#a little flat by the ocean that I can make a home

[malkaleh]

Good thing. I do not have three week housing gap after all. My little flat will be kind of bare, furnishing wise to start with but I can make it a little home, hopefully. But I do not have to go back to that house ever again. I don’t.

[majinbangus]

happy birthday little simon

"You're inviting me to the lad's birthday?"

At this point in time, he kind of expects to get a knock on his door more times in a week than he ever did during the entire duration he's lived in this flat. Most weekdays- when you leave for work and drop off your lad at school- the boy likes to make a quick stop to say good morning. It's become somewhat of a routine. Sometimes it's a sleepy greeting, but little Simon is a cheerful child who has taken an odd liking to him, and vice versa.

"If you can make it."

Then there's you. The sunny child's mother. An easy presence to be in. Refreshing like the ocean breeze during a calm day. Something addictive he can't get enough of.

"When is it?"

This is new. You switched up the routine by coming a second time at midday after he returned from the gym, freshly showered. You faired better when he opened the door compared to that one time. Granted, he was fully dressed, but it was a little disappointing; however, you did have a reason for visiting.

He could tell by the tension surrounding your eyes. Focused like you were on a mission. He supposes you technically are on one. Inviting Simon to your boy's birthday.

"Saturday."

He furrows his brows. "This Saturday?"

"Yes."

"That's tomorrow."

"I know it's a bit last minute, but..." You sigh, running a frustrated hand over your face, frowning at the ground. "No one RSVP'd."

"No one?" Simon nearly growls, offended on the lad's behalf. "What about his friends? The little fuckers don't want to come?

You purse your lips, crossing your arms. "We sent out invites to all his classmates, but ever since we moved, Simon's been having trouble making friends."

"He has trouble?"

"It's not his fault!" You snap before grimacing, lowering your voice, "Sorry, it's just... Simon tries to make friends, but kids are mean, you know? They're young, but they already have their established friend groups and exclude him because he's new."

New. Different. Any reason along those lines. It doesn't matter to kids. Or it does, and that's why they're unjustly cruel to their peers. He understands. Simon grew up with many of his schoolmates avoiding him for being 'weird', not knowing his home life. Tommy had 'friends' but they weren't exactly a good crowd.

"So you want me to come?" Simon asks, and he's met with a tired expression he's never seen on you before—not even when you were sick and weak and needed to be looked after. You look as if you hold the weight of the world on your shoulders, about to collapse.

"He tries not to let it get him down, but if no one shows up..." You bite your lip, a flash of pain in your eyes at the thought of your son hurting. "Please? He likes you, and even if you're the only one who shows up, it'll mean a lot to him."

Simon looks at you. Really looks at you and takes in the desperation in your eyes. You look as if you'd do anything to convince him to come. Even fight him. Tie him up. Anything to drag him to your son's party. You'd probably do it, mother bear that you are.

But you don't need to do that. You won't ever have to fight another battle. Not if he can help it. Simon will fight your battles for you from now on.

"I'll come."

You have his devotion. You and your boy.

"Really?" You brighten up, the hopeless look in your eyes washing away.

He nods. "I'll bring a mate with some brats around your lad's age. They're friendly. They'll like him."

"Will they? Are you sure your friend will be okay with it?"

"They will, and the bastard owes me one, anyway."

No, he doesn't, but Johnny will pull through. Him and his seemingly endless amount of nieces and nephews, although he'll only need to bring a few.

A wide smile breaks out on your face, bright like the sun, and oh- that's where your boy got his grin. Without warning, you leap into his arms, forceful enough to make him grunt. You hug him, burying your face into his shoulder with Simon's hands hovering at your waist, fingers twitching.

It's rare to catch him off guard. So many new sensations fill his senses. Your warmth, surrounding him like a blanket; your scent, sweet and calming with a freshness to it that makes him want to bury his face into your neck and inhale. Or maybe he would bite into your soft skin to see if you taste as pleasant as you smell. If he wasn't so controlled, he probably would sate his curiosity right now.

You stiffen, your body tensing as if you're aware of what you've done, and move to back away, but Simon stops you, resting his hands on your hips. You gently melt your body against his again.

"Thank you, Simon," You softly murmur into his shoulder. It's a quiet sound, but he hears it and lets his arms wrap you in a full hug. You melt against his body, sighing. He doesn't think he's ever felt so warm before. "And just so you know... it means a lot to me, too, that you're coming."

-

Simon: > Johnny

Johnny: > Yeah, lt?

Simon: > You busy tomorrow?

Johnny: > Yes? > I have a date with that bonnie piano teacher I told you about > ... why

Simon: > Cancel it > Have something I need you to do

Johnny: > Work related?

Simon: > No

Johnny: > Then why can't you do it?

Simon: > I'm already on it > Cancel your date

Johnny: > Then why do you need me? > I'm not gonna cancel my date you dobber

-

"Cannae believe ye made us come all the way to fuckin' Manchester. Do y'know how many fuckin' hours ye made us drive, Ghost? The wee ones didnae like gettin' up so arse fuckin' early, either-"

"Shut up, Johnny. You owed me one."

"I didnae?!"

A giggle from Soap's bonnie piano teacher. "You're accent thickens when you're upset, John."

"Today was supposed to be our date!"

"It's not so bad. I still get to spend time with you."

"... Guess not, but I'll take you out proper tomorrow, promise."

"See, Johnny? Everyone wins."

"Awa’ an bile yer heid, Ghost."

-

Despite all his complaining, Johnny is a good guest and keeps the children entertained, playing the part of the fun uncle by letting the kids wrestle or play tag with him, not minding the grass stains as they roughhouse in the park. Currently, he's playing an informal football game with them—six vs. one. He's mostly blocking the ball from entering the goal, but it's still fun for all of them.

Little Simon is extra happy with his new friends. He's been smiling nonstop since they all introduced themselves, grin extra proud when he revealed his name.

("Like Uncle Simon's?"

"Yeah, he says it's a fine name!")

You also haven't stopped smiling ever since they arrived. Not quite as big as your boy's grin, but it still hasn't left. You and Soap's date get along swimmingly, too. He can already tell you'll be good friends with the teacher.

"Not gonna join them?"

Simon looks to see you standing next to him under the tree, watching the children as Soap 'misses' a shot from one of his nephews.

"Where's your friend?" He asks instead.

"Went looking for a bathroom." You gesture vaguely in the direction Soap's date disappeared off to. "So, not gonna play?"

He shakes his head. "Johnny's got it."

"Oh?" The suspiciously innocuous tone makes his eyes narrow. "Is it because he's the better footballer between you two?"

Simon slowly turns towards you, glaring with no real heat, but it still doesn't stop your panicked giggle when he takes a half step in your direction, making you back up against the tree. He gets closer and leans into your space, nearly brushing his front against yours. You audibly gulp, and Simon places a palm on the tree, hand right next to your head. He gets close to your face, watching your eyes widen then dart down to look at somewhere on the bottom half of his face before meeting his eyes again. You bite your lip.

"Repeat that for me, sweetheart." Simon growls softly, and you give a sharp, little inhale.

"U-um. I'd rather... not." Your voice comes out breathy, and you place a hand on his chest as if to stabilize yourself.

"I wasn't asking." He doesn't give you a chance to breathe, leaning in closer, and your fingers dig a little into his pec, making his muscles flex under your touch. "I'll say again: repeat that for me."

With nowhere to run, pinned to a tree, you tremble against his body, breathing heavily and barely able to meet his eyes, licking your lips. It takes you a moment to build up the nerve to speak with Simon surrounding your senses.

"I um... I um-"

"Simon, Uncle Johnny said to come play with us!"

Instantly, he backs away from you and turns around to see your boy running over. Behind him, he hears you exhale a quiet, little, "Fuck..."

Fuck, indeed.

He turns his attention to the lad once he comes to a stop in front of him. "Is that what he said?"

"Uh-huh! He said we're giving him trouble, and it'll make it more fair so he's not the only one guarding."

Simon looks over to where Johnny stands with the football held casually to the side between his arm and waist. The man smirks knowingly, glancing between you and Simon before giving a cheeky wave. He glares back. "I'll show him trouble."

"What did you say, Simon?"

He looks back at your boy. "Nothing. I'll come play."

The lad's eyes brighten with a celebratory cheer, grabbing his wrist and leading the way to the field. Simon looks back to see you better composed, if a little disheveled, but smiling nonetheless at the two like they're the only ones who matter.

-

After cake and presents, the children return to playing football with the new football that Soap gave as a present for little Simon, along with your boy wearing a jersey from the Scot's favorite team. A petty move from Soap, in Simon's opinion, but he'll let him have this one. He'll get your boy cheering for Man United soon enough.

The adults hang back in their own pairs. Soap and his date finally getting a moment to themselves, nibbling on cake and talking about whatever it is they talk about at the picnic table, and you and Simon are back under the tree, keeping a respectable distance between each other.

"Kid seems happy," Simon idly notes, watching your boy laugh and play with the younger MacTavish's. "You did good."

"Me?" You glance at him. "You were the one to bring a tiny tribe to Simon's birthday. Look at him. That smile is because of you."

"That smile is because you're a good mum," Simon states in a way that leaves no room for questions. "You were the one who made today happen. You gave your lad the birthday he deserved. He'll remember this."

Like how Simon remembers his mum doing her best to give him and Tommy the birthdays they deserved, no matter how small the celebration was.

You're looking at him as if you can't quite believe he's real, a cute, astonished look adorning your face. He's tempted to make a comment about it until you give a quiet, amazed laugh, reaching for his hand to give it a grateful squeeze. You don't pull away, and he doesn't let go.

"Even so, Simon had a great seventh birthday, and a lot of it is because of you. You did more than you had to- more than his father ever did! Bastard didn't even send a happy birthday text, son of a bitch." You exhale a heavy, calming breath. "But never mind that... What I'm trying to say is thank you. You didn't have to do what you did, and ever since we met, you've been really good to him."

You shoot him a teasing look. "What's your secret? Have a hidden family out there or something?"

A darker part of Simon is tempted to laugh. You're kind of right, in a messed up way, but he doesn't hold it against you. He hums, contemplating. "I had a nephew."

"Had?" The information takes another second to process. "Oh! I mean..."

"Don't have to say anything." Simon stares out to where the kids are playing. He imagines another boy running among them. Both younger and older than the children out in the field. Taken too young with no opportunity to grow. To live. He squeezes your hand. "He reminds me of him. Joseph. Would have been a couple years older than your lad by now, but I think they would have gotten along."

"Think so?" You send him a soft smile, stepping closer to hug his arm. "Tell me more about him?"

Simon looks at you, the warmth of your body pressed against him, and it suddenly feels like there's no one else in the world. There's just you and him under this tree, with your boy's laughter ringing like bells in the air, and that's when it hits.

Settle down... He's finally starting to get it, Tommy.

-

soap's piano teacher is something i want to write out, but idk if i'll get to it

[plaguedocboi]

We all love the beach, right? I sure do. Where the sea meets the land is a magical place. It is the overlap of two very different worlds; our sunny, sandy, beautiful home and the alien waves that beckon you into the inhospitable wilderness of the ocean. When crossing that foam-fringed boundary, one must remember that you are no longer in your world. You are entering the sea, and the sea is vast and dark and dangerous. It is more untamed than the wildest jungle and full of creatures that can kill you in a hundred different gruesome ways. Every wave whispers to you that you do not belong here, you may only visit for a brief time if you want to leave with your life. Hold tight to the warm sunlit sand that fringes the barrier of this place, or you may never see it again. Welcome to the beach. Enter at your own risk.

1. Tamarama beach, Australia

This is know as both the smallest and the most dangerous beach in NSW. There is a permanent rip current that runs along the rocky northern shore, but at any given time there could be more hidden in the surf. Large waves break just a little ways offshore, posing a hazard to swimmers but an attraction for surfers. Although there are rarely deaths here, lifeguards have to rescue multiple people a day. Interestingly, this beach is only around sometimes! Occasionally all the sand will wash away and all that’s left is a rocky outcrop. There’s no way to be certain when the beach will come back or how big it will be or what it might look like. I guess it never gets boring to visit.

2. Isle of Ré, France

This island is not the only place you can go to see square waves, but it is one of the places most famous for this strange phenomenon. This is called a cross sea, and occurs when two opposing wave patterns intersect. Although this is certainly a tourist attraction, it is best to observe from a distance, as cross seas can be very dangerous to both ships and swimmers. Cross seas can cause powerful rip currents and walls of water up to 10 feet high, rolling ships and dragging people underwater. (As a side note, my mother thought I had made up cross seas as a freaky supernatural event in my book. Unfortunately, I did not.)

3. Dumas Beach, India

This is supposedly one of the most haunted places in India. Although this beach is full of tourists during the daytime, no one remains after dark, for fear that they will become the next ghost to wander the sand. Apparently, this beach was once used as a burial ground, and said to be black due to the human ashes mixed in. At night, people report hearing voices and seeing apparitions, and even dogs behave strangely once the sun goes down. There have also been multiple unexplained disappearances and at least one recorded death. Whether you believe in ghosts or not, there definitely seems to be something eerie happening on this beach.

4. Morecambe Bay, UK

This is an interesting one, as it’s not technically the water that’s dangerous. The ground is. This estuary features extreme tides, with the water level dropping and rising up to 32 feet twice a day. This exposes an expanse of mud flats and channels which are composed of loose, wet material that can absolutely suck you in and trap you. If this happens when the tide is coming in, it can quickly turn deadly. This has happened many times going back through history, including one incident in 2004 where 23 people died. Yes, all at the same time. No, I don’t want to delve into that incident too deeply in this list as it’s extremely horrifying and tragic. Feel free to research it yourself.

5. Monastery Beach, Oregon

This has earned its nickname “mortuary beach” by being extremely dangerous. Over 30 people have died here, including people who weren’t even in the water. In 2015, a woman walking along the beach was dragged in by a wave and drowned. The beach has multiple factors that make it so deadly, including a steep drop off, unpredictable waves, and strong undertows. This beach isn’t even safe to walk on. I um. Don’t like that.

6. Hanakapiai Beach, Hawaii

Despite its beauty, this Hawaiian beach is not recommended for swimming except for expert surfers. During the summer, this beach is a popular place for hiking, sunbathing and sightseeing, but during the winter the sand is washed away and the waves crash against the cliffs directly. Even in the relatively safe summer months, this beach has no barrier reef to break up the strong waves and powerful currents, which leads to a dangerous situation where swimmers can quickly be swept out into the open ocean and drown. At least 30 people have died here, and 15 of the bodies have never been recovered.

7. Lake Michigan. Just, all of it.

Despite all the Great Lakes being somewhat terrifying, Michigan takes the title of the most dangerous lake in the country. Yearly, Lake Michigan has more drownings than all four other Great Lakes combined. The reason that Michigan is especially hazardous is that, well, it’s kind of weirdly shaped. Thanks to its 300+ miles of uninterrupted parallel shorelines running north-south, it forms huge waves and strong riptides and long shore currents. It is also a question of numbers; Lake Michigan has more public beaches and large population centers than the other Great Lakes. All in all, a recipe for disaster.

8. Playa Zipolite, Mexico

This is also called the “beach of the dead”, so it’s inclusion on this list seems pretty self-explanatory. These waters have strong undercurrents that rotate in a circular pattern, either pushing you into shore or pulling you out to sea. There is a pervasive rumor that 50 people drown at this beach a year, although this is… somewhat exaggerated. In fact, very few people drown at this beach these days, as it has actually gotten less dangerous over the years. There used to be a steep drop-off that would catch people by surprise, but due to several severe storms in the early 2000s, the beach has eroded back and now gently slopes down instead. Although very few people die at this beach nowadays, multiple rescues are performed every day due to the dangerous currents.

9. Cyclops, Australia

This is a particular type of wave that forms off the coast of Esperance, Australia, as the sea floor rapidly goes from deep, open water to a very very shallow reef. It is… unsettling. The longer I look at it, the weirder it gets. It’s like an ai generated image. I couldn’t even pick one picture of it so I made you a collage.

It is considered one of the most dangerous surf spots in the world, and can only be accessed by boat. To quote pacific surf dot com, “the reason the wave is dangerous is because it does not act like any other wave in the world. It engulfs itself due to the massive change in the ocean floor when the wave rolls up.”

10. Nazare, Portugal

This area of Portugal is home to some of the biggest waves in the world. Just offshore is an underwater canyon, plunging down to 16,000 ft deep. This allows large, fast deep-water waves to move into shore unimpeded, and when they hit the shallows close to shore all the water gets suddenly pushed up, resulting in waves up to 80 ft tall. I think the picture speaks for itself in this case. Probably best to not get in the water if you see that shit.

That was fun, wasn’t it? Before I go, let me end this on a different note than the rest of my lists; some actual advice for if you should you ever decide to visit these beaches (or any beach, really). Rip currents are incredibly strong (believe me, I know) but very narrow currents that run perpendicular to shore. To get out of a rip current, swim parallel to shore. Trying to fight the current will just tire you out and eventually leave you exhausted and way the fuck out in the ocean, which is typically when you die. Swimming parallel to shore will get you out of the current, and once you’re free you can swim back in at your leisure. And, just in general, never fight the sea. The sea will win.

[rainyorca]

I'll swim down with you 𓇼 Kenji Sato X Reader

Content warnings: F!reader, Established relationship, childhood friends, kissing, fluff, a little bit of smut.

Words: 1,916

Notes: Rewatching Ultraman made me realize that Kenji does in fact have pools on his deck but I don't know if they're meant to be swam in, however, i really wanted to write something involving them soooo…..I am very deeply in love with this man and have seen this movie more times than I’ve seen my dad this summer.

𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼

The setting sun casts beautiful rays of golden light on the Earth, blanketing everything in warmth. It’s mid-June, which means baseball season is at its all-time high right now. For Kenji, it’s rather exciting but for you, it’s a little upsetting. You don’t get to spend as much time with him anymore due to practice and his games, but you still attend his games, all of them in fact as long as your work schedule doesn't overlap. As well as his duties as Ultraman, sometimes you don't even get to have him in bed next to you. 

You sit in one of the pools on his wooden deck, bathing in sunlight. You like to sit in the water and watch the sunset over the ocean, the view is out of this world. It's one of the many things you like about living with him. Ken is currently at practice, which he has practically been at all day in your mind, then again you left for work early this morning so you haven't seen him at all today. You close your eyes, sinking further into the pool and letting your head rest on the edge. The wood is smooth beneath your head, but you slide your hands under your head for more cushion. There's music playing softly in the background, one of your favorite songs from your favorite playlist. This was your idea of relaxing after work, especially with such a hectic day you had. 

“Ken is home,” Mina’s voice erupts softly from behind you, making you jump. You turn around to face the floating supercomputer. “I'm sorry, did not mean to startle you,” she says, her tone flat as usual. “It's okay,” you smile softly, “thank you for letting me know, Mina.” The floating circle gives you a nod before flying off to greet Kenji. You turn back to the sunset, waiting for Kenji to come by. You can hear him talking to Mina inside but it stops momentarily before starting up again. Kenji’s footsteps could be heard approaching you now, but you're too lost in thought to turn around or even notice.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks, you can practically hear the smile in his voice. You turn around, smiling when you see him. “I’d enjoy it a lot more if you joined me,” you respond, tilting your head at him. He shakes his head with a smile, “I know, that's why I put my swim trunks on.” You watch him lift his shirt over his head, the golden light hitting his toned body perfectly. He looks warm, and the light makes his skin look supple and soft. He dips his feet in the water, pulling back from the slightly coldness but slowly easing himself in. The water isn’t too deep, he can stand perfectly straight and it only goes to his waist. He rests his back against the edge just like your doing but he follows your movements when you turn around to face the sun. He squints a little, turning his head to look at you rather than the bright sun. “How was your day?” he asks, his voice as soft as silk. You peer into his big gray eyes, resting your head on your hands again. “Hetic,” you respond simply, “How was practice?”

He picks up on the simplicity of your answer quickly, dropping the subject knowing you don't want to go into detail. “Practice was good, but I was a little distracted today,” he responds, reaching up and brushing a water droplet off your face only to get more on you. “Why’s that?” you ask, giggling softly at his failed attempt. “Because I kept thinking about you,” he smiles, almost teasingly because he knows what you’re gonna say. “You’re so corny,” you scoff, smiling brightly, “why were you really distracted?” He shrugs, “I'm serious, I was thinking about you.” There's humor in his voice and his expression is rather playful. You roll your eyes, turning your head to face the sun again. 

His eyes linger on you for a moment, taking in the softness of your face and admiring how your eyes look in the sunlight. A few thoughts from the past show up in his mind, like how upset you were when you found out he had to move back to Japan, or the sweet moments in high school when you went to all the school dances with him. You have always been a special person in his life and for so long, he feels rather grateful that you're back in his life as his lover rather than just a friend. He snakes a hand around your waist, turning you around so you're facing him and not the sun. Your back is pressed up against the edge again and he's standing in front of you, staring down into your eyes. 

“You’re so warm,” he says softly, running his hands up your exposed torso. “I’ve been out here a while,” you respond, reaching up and resting your arms on his broad shoulders. “I can tell,” he hums, reaching up to cup your face with his large, wet hand. “You’re warm too,” you point out, tilting your head a bit so you can melt into his touch. He drops his hand, sneakily lifting you so he's carrying you. You wrap your legs around his waist, holding onto him as he backs up from the wall of the pool. He smiles, spinning you around slowly in the water. You close your eyes, throwing your head back and hanging off him a bit as he spins you. 

There's a mischievous look in his eye, but it all goes away when you dip underwater. He surfaces you quickly, laughing at your surprised expression. “Oh you asshole,” you splash him with water, wetting his hair and face. “I couldn't miss the opportunity, sorry,” he lets go of you, protecting himself from your splashes. You give him your best angry expression, but it doesn't last long. You can't resist his charms, and that award-winning smile always makes you smile. He swims up to you, reaching out to grab you again and pulling you into his chest before you can get away. “I won't do it again, I promise,” he says, shaking his hair and sending water flying. “If you do, we're going to have problems,” you respond, pressing your hands into his chest. 

His eyes glide over your face, his smile still plastered on his lips. He cups your face again, making you tilt your head upwards so he can have access to your lips. He tilts his head a little, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your lips. You kiss him back almost immediately, sliding your hands over his shoulders as you have done before. The soft, pillowy feeling of his lips is enough to send you into a trance, parting your lips for him. Your heart rate spikes a little when you feel him pull you in tighter, his brows furrowing and what seems to have started off as an innocent kiss was now becoming something more euphoric and titillating. He tilts his head a little more, deepening the kiss with a quiet grunt before moving you back to the edge of the pool. Your back hits the smooth edge, the coolness of it suddenly more noticeable. 

His grip on you tightens, his knee coming up to part your legs slowly before pressing into your clothed cunt. The sudden shift in demeanor, and movements, makes you gasp a little. He pulls away slowly, a new look in his lidded eyes. He leans down to kiss the line of your jaw and then your neck. “I haven't been able to give you much attention lately,” he says softly but sensually, “the attention you need and crave.” You tilt your head back just a little to give him more access to your neck. His breath is warm and it fans over your neck, the tickling sensation making goosebumps rise on your skin. His knee presses up against your cunt again, a little harder this time making you squeak in surprise. You lift a leg slightly, opening yourself up more. 

Ken moves his hand down, further and further until stopping at the waistband of your swimsuit bottoms. He slips his lithe fingers underneath the fabric, inching closer and closer to your cunt. His lips find yours again in another aggressive, hungry kiss as if he's trying to devour you through the kiss alone. One of his fingers brushes over your sensitive clit, causing you to startle, and a sharp gasp erupts from your throat. The sound is like music to his ears, the noises you make are just perfect to him. You brace yourself, one hand on the edge of the pool, the other digging into his shoulder while he holds you still. He rubs agonizingly slow circles on your clit, drinking in your expressive behavior, soft moans starting to slide off your sinful tongue. 

You were his weakness, just like he was yours. It was hard to resist him really, a struggle you’ve had since your younger years with him. In moments like these, it was even harder. The sun was still setting on the horizon, however only half of it was visible. The night sky started to pool in, blanketing the sky with specks of stars. He couldn't help himself, hearing your delightful and heavenly moans, he needed to hear more, to feel more. His fingers speed up, rubbing a little harder but oh so perfectly. You part from his lips with a rather pathetic gasp, your mouth staying slightly open as he continues to draw his fingers over your clit. 

He leans in, mouth open against your soft neck, tasting, feeling, the area with his mouth. “I wanna memorize every part of your body,” he hums, breath ragged, “I wanna touch you everywhere, make you mine.” He blabbers, his words digging deep into your core, making you squeeze around nothing. He lifts his head to look at you now, bumping noses as he continues his movements against your clit. His eyes bore into yours, lovingly but lustful. You keep your eyes open, or at least try to. You can't help but close them every time a shock of pleasure rushes up your spine. “I wasn't lying when I told you,” his lips curl into a smug smile, “that I was thinking about you. I’ve been thinking about this all day.” 

“Ken,” you breathe, your moans melodic and messy. “You seem more sensitive than usual,” he points out a little teasingly. That warm tingling feeling starts to build up in your stomach, pleasure shooting up your spine as your climax starts to work its way out of you. Just as you're about to release, Mina’s voice sounds from behind Kenji causing both of you to stop. 

“A phone call from your father, Ken,” she says monotone. Kenji sighs, looks back at Mina, and then back to you, his fingers still positioned on your clit. “Before you try to put it off, it's urgent,” Mina continued before Ken could even speak. He groans, clearly irritated, and then gives you an apologetic look. “I’ll be back,” he says, kissing your forehead before releasing you gently. Your body relaxes, and you catch your breath, watching him get out of the pool and follow Mina into the house. A sigh escapes your lips, irritated but otherwise calm. You decide to stay in the pool until the moon comes up.

𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼

[alienbycomics]

Ready to Stand: A comic retelling The Little Mermaid with a twist 🏳️‍⚧️

[Begin image description- Comic with 10 panels inspired by Disney’s The Little Mermaid. Comic title: “Ready to Stand” by Alienby comics.

Panel 1: Ariel, a mermaid, holds a dress up in front of her and looks into a mirror longingly. Ariel’s flat chest covered in scales and gills makes her gender ambiguous. Ariel is in her underwater cave surrounded by trinkets from the human world. Ariel’s voice over: “Maybe Father’s right. Maybe there is something wrong with me.”

Panel 2: Ariel leans on a rock on the surface of the water, looking hopefully at 2 human women walking along the beach in the distance. Ariel’s voice over: “But I want this more than anything.”

Panel 3: Ariel is seen swimming away from her home in a shadowy nook, looking back at her father and sisters, who are laughing together. She is sad to leave them. Ariel’s voice over speaking to Ursula: “So you can really turn me into a human?”

Panel 4: Ariel approaches Ursula the Sea Witch in Ursula’s lair pleadingly. Ursula speaks to Ariel over her shoulder. Ursula answers: “I can. You’re not the first, honey. Life down here is so drab, isn’t it?” Ariel replies: “Yes. I don’t belong here. Please help me.”

Panel 5: Ariel and Ursula’s conversation continues as we see a flashback of Ariel’s father Triton, who has angrily destroyed Ariel’s trinkets from the human world with his magic. Triton holds Ariel by the arm in one hand and holds her dress, which is now in shambles, in his other hand. Ursula’s voice over: “What do you have to offer me?” Ariel’s voice over: “I have… well, I had a trove of treasures until my father…” Ariel trails off. Ursula’s voice over: “How about your voice?”

Panel 6: Ariel looks over her shoulder back at Ursula. Ursula appears more devilish now and lurks in the shadows behind her. Ariel asks: “My voice?” Ursula replies: “You can’t get something for nothing, kid. Your voice for your legs. Do we have a deal?”

Panel 7: Ariel and Ursula now are at opposite sides of a bubbling purple cauldron, full of a potion that will make Ariel human. Ursula holds a vial of this potion out to Ariel. Ariel’s fists are clenched and her face is poised in resolve. Ariel simply says, “okay.” Ursula warns Ariel: “But the transformation will be painful, and you can never return home. Are you sure this is what you want?”

Panel 8: The comic cuts to after Ariel’s transformation. She breaks the surface of the ocean and takes a sharp breath of air. She no longer has gills or scales, and she now has noticeable human breasts with seashell coverings. Ariel’s inner monologue voice over: “Air in my lungs…”

Panel 9: Ariel is seen in 2 poses. The first pose shows Ariel sitting in the shallow water on the beach, admiring one of her feet on her brand new legs. She has a huge smile on her face. The second pose shows Ariel trying to stand, now wearing a skirt made from a piece of canvas from nearby ship debris. Ariel teeters and falls over with a chibi-like expression that exaggerates her panic. Ariel’s inner monologue voice over continues: “Sand between my toes, the warm sun on my soft skin…”

Panel 10: Ariel blissfully but silently laughs while laying in the warm sand on the beach. Her arms and new legs are sprawled out in relaxation. Ariel’s inner monologue concludes: “Now I’m home.” / End image description]

[1800titz]

The vacay piece I teased ages ago. One night stand :D

CONTENT/WARNINGS: p-in-v, oral, brief size kink (if you squint), praise kink, this one’s p vanilla.

WC: 2.5K

It starts like this:

A bohemian beach with a high riding tide, where ripples surge and flood the shore. Sand tears from its home, coasting the verge in the breeze like a fog under the overcast, and when the clouds split open, the rays hug her skin. 

She’s sprawled over a chaise lounge in a little red thing that’s all skimp and no cover besides the intimates. When she rolls onto her side and tips to her tummy, he eyes the flash of skin behind dark tint. His arms brace over the porcelain border of the pool that overlooks the beach up ahead — he’s watchful from a distance. Someone swims up to the bar behind him. Chlorine laps at his back, teeming over the grout between the tiles as he wraps his lips over a straw and nurses something cobalt and strong.

By the time he culls a second one, she’s up, all glistening skin in the sunshine, hips swaying as her toes make doughy prints in the sand. She trails to the sea, and the ocean eats her until she’s just a little silhouette in front of his sunglasses with water-slicked hair and lines that cinch and swell in all the right places. 

He sees her like that, outlying his bubble, in brief pieces like the flashes of skin. Fragments in the horizon, like the border of a stranger’s leg in the background of a photograph. He sees her in slivers where eyes interlock from across the room and linger. This bohemian summer is painted in teal, and it’s waves swathing the coast, warm skin coated in cocoa butter. 

It ends on a night where the teal metamorphose indigo, and then nearly denim, with orange on cords, glinting like miniaturized, splintered orbs of the sun have been caught to glare forever on strings in the night. Harry sees her through that indigo, this stranger’s bare leg waltzing in the depths of his touristy snapshot, mingling in the dancing horde. He trails closer, shouldering through the throng and squeezing through in polite gaps, and she twists like it’s fate — just enough to smuggle a glimpse in her peripherals. 

Eventually, Harry leans in to murmur, “What are you drinking?”

The plush of his mouth ghosts over the cartilage there, and his cadence smooths over like honey, low and deep over the pounding bass of the music. Waned tobacco and spice; a warm, pleasant musk in the flurry of scents. 

She doesn’t immediately respond, observant like she’s weighing whether the invitation is worth entertaining. It only takes a second. Then, there’s a hand over his pec, like she’s already made friends with the filth of his intentions. His red-lycra-skimp mystique rolls up on her toes. 

Harry twists his head just enough for her to respond, “It’s a Blue Lagoon.” 

Saccharine — rich and lux and smooth, something that has her skin glowy and sweeps up her throat, tucks behind her ear, enough so that the scent billows off with the motion of her hair as she flips it over her shoulder. 

Harry casts his gaze to the drink. A red straw is tucked into the ice, and the only remnants of the beverage mingle at the bottom. The ice shimmers in faded teal, much like water sloshing over the flat tides. Her fingers cradle over the cup, and that’s where soft, thin lines of gold coil. Despite the broad array, there’s no wedding band. 

“Can I grab you another?” 

That’s when she does the thing; this patently flirtatious, brazenly get-under-my-crocheted-midi-skirt sort of thing, lashes coy in their sweep and eyes innocuous as the tips of her manicured fingers pinch at the straw and siphon it to her mouth. There’s an elegant presentation to the polish — neat, short lines with a nude base and a white tip. 

The remnants of the beverage vanish until all that’s left is crushed ice painted with blue curaçao. Harry watches the straw. He watches her lips, the way they unlatch and the way the pink tip of her tongue offers a glimpse before it hides away behind her front teeth. 

When she pulls the drink away, she tips her head — an inclination for his ear again — and when he ducks his chin for her answer, she tells him, “Can you make it worth my time?” 

A tongue swipes — his — like it’s already hungry and yearning. Dimples form beside the curling edges of a mouth after the pink muscle retreats. Home in its hungry cavern; limitlessly craving. He doesn’t bother going for her ear again, instead opting to fix eyes that have wandered, all week, onto her face. Definitive, close. Mesh of saccharine and spice. 

“I’ll make it worth your time,” Harry assures. 

His eyes are virid, even in the indigo, under all the miniature suns as the lanterns throw them back into a roll of blue — it climbs over the crowd and seeps with the music. They’re virid and intent. They’re virid, and there’s something lewd that dances in the mottled talc. 

She watches him. A set of eyes flits to his mouth and stays, brief like a fragment. She nudges the cup — the fragment splinters and fades — extending it against his chest until he raises his hand and his ring clad digits curl over it slowly, wet with condensation. 

“Blue Lagoon,” sweet mystique reminds him, a little curl to her mouth. 

Harry heads to the bar. He orders a Blue Lagoon and refreshes his tequila. Double. He winds through the half-clad crowd, prodding and slipping through sweat-slicked bodies until he finds her again. 

He makes it worth her while when they’re dancing, when her arms are slung over his shoulders and the tips of her fingers graze at the little curls at his nape, like an intimacy beyond a summer fling, or maybe like a restless hunger — its touches only test the waters with dips of toes under lapping ripples. He makes it worth her while when his hand cups the meat of her hip, and she tips her head up for their mouths to meet, when their dancing slows and the kiss turns feverish, cushiony mouths teasing at the seams until they split. 

He makes it worth her time when they make the stroll back to his room, heels clicking over tile and bouncing off from lofty wall to lofty wall, a good bit of distance between them strictly for the sake of avoiding shagging in the middle of a hallway. He makes it worth her while when he braces his wrist band to the lock over the door, when she’s leant against the wall with her irises lingering on him and her lashes batting coyly. She’s well-behaved, hands tucked behind her back like a combat to handsy temptation. 

It’s a different story behind the door. 

He makes it worth her while when her fingers toy at her crocheted halter, index perusing at the fabric below cleavage and brushing over chalky yarn. He makes it worth her time when he steps into her space all slow-like, face tipped down and the pink below his cupid’s bow worked into a soft curve, lengthy, deft digits working over the buttons of his shirt. An untamed tendril teases over one of his brows. Her hands meander from fondling at her own tits, at rogue pieces of yarn in the stitches, to straying up his ink-etched forearms. That’s when he lets her take over the work, when his arms snake over the vale of her waist. When his colossal hands cup lower, when he nudges forward and their mouths brush again. He licks into her mouth and rolls into the gap between her teeth.

Filthy kisses are shrouded behind closed doors, even in the easy ambience of a resort. Furlough on the greedy pursuit of pleasure, on some secluded island with crystalline waters, plus tequila — that’s practically a petri dish for hook up culture. But filthy kisses are saved for the bedroom, and there it’s taste buds doused in citrus limon and gray goose, a tip of a tongue swiping along a row of teeth, basking in the ridges. 

“What do you like, little minx?” Harry murmurs. He climbs the column of her throat with the ruddy border of a hungry cavern, and her pulse murmurs back under his mouth. “Hm?” 

The blunt tip of his forefinger traces her collarbone, follows a line of cleavage, toys at the cinch in her top; unravels her. It splits down the center, and the straps follow limply down her shoulders. Harry pinches a nipple and scrapes his teeth over her neck, humming again. 

Behind closed doors, his red-lycra-mystique (bare, her tits are bare now, in the backdrop of his picture) gets denuded to flesh when she shimmies the dress down her hips. He helps her and then tears his own shirt over his head. It’s hasty, like disrobing takes too much time from a place where time moves slower, riding the water in leisure. Harry still doesn’t know her name, and she slips to her knees, batting her lashes, and takes his buckle apart like unslotting puts the last of the puzzle pieces together. 

When her tongue rides under the ridge of his tip, delving and dragging over the prominent vein jutting on the underside of his shaft, he cranes his neck back and makes a sound like she’s torn into his chest with the tips of her french-polished manicure. He punctuates every pornographic, wet sound with dialogue.

“Christ, you’re a dream.” 

“Fuck, you’re pretty with cock in your mouth.” 

“Yeah, that’s it, just like that, sweetheart.” 

“—Y/N,” red-lycra-mystique supplies, gaze bouncing from the twist of her wrists at his base to his face, and then sweeps his bubbling head over her bottom lip and swallows him down halfway. 

“Y/N,” Harry mirrors, tone bathed in the same sweetness she radiates at his feet. 

And then she trails the very tips of her blunt nails up his sac, and the shiver that rolls up his spine short-circuits every feasible attempt of formulating something in english. Just… gone. Something splinters. 

Harry doesn’t cum all over her tongue, despite the pretty mental image he’d cherish of Y/N on her knees with ribbons of silky white coating the insides of her mouth. He thinks about the way he’d dip the pad of his thumb against her tongue, the way he’d stir and scrub it in. He thinks about her lips latching and her cheeks hollowing. 

He’s got immense willpower, particularly when she takes him all the way down until her nose nearly brushes the neatly-trimmed tuft of hair the tributary of his happy trail pools into. Because then, she pulls off, chin sloppy with saliva, mouth wide, and stares up at him with this wickedly indelicate curl to the corners of her mouth as she gasps in breaths. Like she wants him to. 

Instead, they make it to the bed. He splits her thighs with his palms and spits where she’s puffy and warm, leaky with longing, toying at the seam of her hole with his digits. Smooths the wetness with his thumb when he tucks two fingers in and laves his tongue at the crease between her inner thigh and her cunt. He bumps her clit with the tip and rolls, and her spine arches like the highest point of her torso peaks at the clouds of nirvana. 

“You’re a good girl,” Harry tells her, and his voice is so soft, like he’s reassuring an animal that’s backed itself into a corner, “Want you to drench my face.” 

And she does, because when he holds a placid, unwavering hand out and talks her so sweetly, lips suckling in a vacuumed ‘o’ between her thighs, what can she do besides roll her hips against his mouth in little, desperate juts, face creased before bliss spumes through every major artery.

When Harry sits back, his chin is sticky, glinting in the buttery cast of the lanterns drilled into the ceiling. He kisses her again until her jaw is stained with her own slick, and despite the entire basis of a one night stand, his tongue meddles into her mouth with the same passion of a man carving a piece of her open. A cozy lacuna just for him in the depths of her chest, something that’ll linger and yearn. A hungry chasm that’ll grumble when her cunt pulses — when he’s not there to fill it. She’ll think of him; a stranger’s leg flitting like a passing speck in the background of her photograph. 

Y/N’s cunt hugs him like it can’t get enough. 

Eventually. 

Because at first, it’s: too big, won’t fit, pleated brows when he’d split her spongy walls apart on the latex-coated tip, stretching to tuck in and hovering to imbibe in miniature ticks of her expression. A twitch in her lashes, a shift in the line of her mouth, a little swallow bobbing down the column of her throat. 

“You’re a good girl,” he’d crooned, smoothing a thumb over a rib and then her clit, just to see her squirm more over his cock. 

Eventually, she clambers over his lap, planting her palms back over inky, firm muscle. It’s leverage as she bounces to fill that starving cavity — the one he’d drilled with his tongue, like the shape of him can fill every square inch of space before they never see each other again. Hungry, hungry, hungry. 

“Come on, baby, come on,” Harry coaxes, a low groan mottled with breathy pants, “—Shit.” 

Momentarily, he pauses the guiding grasp he’s got over her hips to drag the pad of his thumb over his tongue lewdly, smearing spit over the digit and swiping circles over her clit, instead. In response, the rolling pace Y/N has set stutters, knees jolting, and her mussed hair spills off her shoulder as she cranes her neck back. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Yes, yes, yes—“

His eyes flit from her cunt to the ethereal line of her neck, the borders of her shoulders, the shape of her tits bouncing. 

Ultimately, of course, his gaze winds back down to ogle where they connect, because that’s the view — that’s where she swallows his cock, thighs splayed and trembling, gliding from the tip until about midway before rising and repeating the cycle. Rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat. He draws his thumb lower, lets it meddle where they merge, where her hole flutters and rolls over him, gleaning the sticky arousal that coats his shaft and bringing the pad of it back to her clit. His eyes linger. Flicker up. Return to watch her ride and nearly roll back into his head. 

He’s carved the void, and later, when she tips forward and her nails scrape over his pecs, feral, she whittles her own. Later, the space between his thighs aches and heats. Something pulses on the underside of his balls. It yearns for blue curaçao, pellucid, crashing waters, and a skimpy red bikini. 

[moonstruckme]

hi!! ngl i’ve never actually requested anything so im kinda nervous to do so but if it’s possible, do you think you could write something along the lines of eddie munson with like an anxious reader? maybe she has a panic attack and he’s there to help in the aftermath or just an overall anxious person. i know you’ve written something similar with the marauders so i hope that this is okay for me to request. i love love love ur writing!

Thank you for requesting lovely <3

cw: aftermath of panic attack

Eddie Munson x fem!reader ♡ 642 words

Eddie’s rambling hasn’t stopped since you sat down, but it’s become background noise for you, like ocean sounds or the music they play in grocery stores. You know well enough how to get yourself through this. His hand on your back is a steady, if somewhat frantic, reassurance. 

“You okay?” Eddie asks, his rhythm slowing as you blow out a lungful of air, bending your head towards your knees. You hold up a weak thumbs-up, and it picks up again. “Shit, yeah, you’re okay, baby. You’ve got it.” 

You feel bad that this is Eddie’s first time dealing with you like this, though it’s nice to be in his trailer and not at the mall or in a restaurant or something. His couch is familiarly uncomfortable, lumpy in places and nearly flat in others, and the air smells like weed and grease, the electric fan Wayne brings out for the summer months whirring diligently in the corner. You’re glad Wayne’s not home now, though someone should probably be around to comfort Eddie after he’s done comforting you. 

“Anything I can do to help?” he asks again. “You want some water or something?” 

This time, you nod. Your boyfriend all but springs up from the couch, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and hustling it back to you like he’s training to be one of the NASCAR pit stop people. You take it from him, rubbing the condensation from the bottle on the back of your neck before taking a sip. The chill is grounding. You rest your head back on your knees.

“You feeling better, sweetheart?” Eddie grabs another water bottle from the fridge once he sees what you did with the first, holding it to your neck. “You seem better. Sounding less like Darth Vader.” 

You laugh a little, and he laughs back nervously. 

“Yeah,” you say, “it’s mostly better now.” 

He blows out a breath. “Phew, okay. Jesus. You’re a fucking champ, you know that?” 

“Thanks,” you chuckle. “Sorry I put you through that.” 

“I’m pretty sure I’m not the one who went through something just now, so consider your apology heard and nullified.” Eddie’s lips come down on the back of your head. “I’d tell you where to shove it, but I’m feeling kind of bad for you right now. Count your blessings.” 

“Oh, I’m counting them.” You smile down into the semi-dark valley between your legs and chest, taking one more deep breath in and out before lifting your head. “Okay, I’m good.” 

“Yeah?” As he pulls back to see you, your boyfriend doesn’t look so sure. His eyebrows are pulled up in the middle, freakishly huge eyes full of freakishly sweet worry. “Good enough for a hug?” 

You hum your assent, and in the next second you’re in his lap. Eddie goes all the way, curving his body over yours as his arms wrap protectively around your back and his cheek squishes into yours. 

“It scares me when you’re scared,” he admits. 

“Sorry.”

“No—goddamnit, what did we say about that? You’re lucky you’re cute, I swear—don’t be sorry. Obviously it’s not your fault, I’m just sorry that happened to you. It seemed really fucking shitty.” 

“It felt really fucking shitty,” you agree. “I’m wiped.” 

“Honestly? Me too.” Eddie chuckles. “Nap?” 

“Yes, please,” you say, but wriggle closer to him, preventing him from getting up. Eddie doesn’t seem to mind. He starts rubbing your back again, contemplative. 

“You wanna sleep here, or on the bed?” 

“Bed,” you answer immediately. 

“...right. But are you gonna get up and go to the bed?” 

You make a thoughtful humming sound, grasping him tighter. “Probably not. Maybe you could carry me?” 

A sigh, long and dramatic. “Yeah, maybe I could.” Eddie’s hands move to grip you more securely, and he grunts as he stands. “You’re seriously lucky you’re cute, trouble.” 

[naffeclipse]

Little Chicks

Penguin!Reader x Orca!Eclipse

Commission Info

I'm so excited to share this fic! The lovely @pluck-heartstrings requested a continuation of Cardinal Instincts with a mix of fluff and typical Orca Eclipse with some angst/backstory for the harpy reader! I also enjoy writing baby sirens Sun and Moon as well <3

Content Warning for mentions of death and angst.

———

Tiny flukes flip along the ocean’s surface. You watch the siren young closely, perched on the edge of the ice with your winged arms folded tightly against you. Though you’ve grown used to how the orca siren tests the babes’ abilities, your heart flutters nonetheless whenever one sinks a little too deep below the surface without acquiring a deep enough breath and you must swallow back a squawk of fear when the other gives anxious, tired chirps after swimming for a moment too long.

But Eclipse is there, scooping the little ones into his hands, and if they refuse to calm, he presses them into your lap and allows the familiar, comforting touch of your plumage to soothe them.

Your siren young, you remember. Emotion thickens in your throat as Sun flips his tail, flashing cream and golden colors. The orca siren child struggles across the shallow water in the half-submerged alcove. Moon’s teeth gnash together as he whines. Eclipse chirrs gently, encouraging the children as if they were of his own blood. It still surprises you that they are not, with their eyes each containing at least one yellow or scarlet hue. The brothers share a blue color to their gaze, however, and confirm that they are twins.

The icy alcove sheltering them from the harsher, direct light outside is comfortable. Though it’s far from your natural habitat of flat icy plains with plenty of diving holes into the water, you’ve dared to settle into this home.

Eclipse courts you still, and though you both share the work of caring for the siren young, he makes it clear with a flash of his hungry eyes that you are the only mate for him. The only one who will raise Sun and Moon with him.

You watch him now, while the boys occupy his attention. His sleek, black and white form dipped in deep red and dark orange is lethal in every capacity. He is the apex predator of the seas. His body is lithe with toned, sleek muscle. His jaws split wide into a maw full of shark-like teeth. Yet, his claws curl carefully over Moon while he lifts him back to the surface, and the soft sounds of the babe’s sputtering pull your muscles taut, insisting you dive after the babe. 

An instinct within understands how easily Eclipse’s natural weapons can turn on you, could rip you apart to feed his young, but then Sun is squeaking in anger. Eclipse turns to him quickly. He rumbles a soothing hum while holding Moon in the crook of his arm and gathering Sun in his other hand. His gentleness is always at the ready for his adoptive children. Your heart softens.

The siren lifts his eyes to you. In the light that refracts from the ocean surface and icy walls, his gaze glows brighter, hungrier. A shiver falls down your spine. How naturally your body remembers your place in the food chain. He closes the distance. His dorsal fin arches high behind him while strong, smooth motions of his tail push him until he’s looming over you on the shelf of ice you reside on.

A pulse starts in your throat. You gaze up at him, small and easily devoured, but he leans closer to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. The thick feathers covering your body ruffle under his persistent touch. A soft squawk escapes your mouth at the graze of his teeth over your sensitive, vulnerable throat.

“Sun and Moon must be getting hungry,” you breathe, fighting the heat that longs to stain your fluffy cheeks.

“They’ve worked up an appetite,” he agrees over the sharp squeaks and chirps of their demands. “They’re getting stronger.”

And hungrier, you note. Eclipse has been a provider, killing and retrieving meals of squid and other soft meat for the boys to tear apart with their nubby teeth. Eclipse explained to you once that these milk teeth will fall out once the boys have grown enough and will be replaced by sharper, more capable incisors. 

It might have scared other harpies like yourself to know these children who depend on you for food and warmth will soon become as capable and dangerous as Eclipse, but only a swell of pride fills you with the thought. They will become strong. They will thrive and no one will ever harm them. A gentle need to watch them flourish propels you to open your arms.

“When will you hunt for food?” you ask softly. Your dainty clawed fingers brush gently against the squirming, wet forms of Sun and Moon held in the crook of Eclipse’s arms.

A low grumble, deep and chilling, rolls through the orca siren and into you. You still when this jaws nears your lips. The press of his forceful kiss pushes you back slightly, and you give an indignant squeak under his mouth, tasting you like he may or may not sample the flesh hidden under your feathers.

“I’ll go now, birdie,” he murmurs. “I won’t keep Sun and Moon hungry. Wait here for me.”

He draws back to capture your gaze with his own. The intensity of his eyes, one red, one yellow, pierces you with the strength of the sun. A desire to look away, to shrink from underneath his power nearly takes you, but he growls softly.

“Be good, birdie.”

“I will,” you answer, then immediately flush. 

He nods smugly then presses a kiss to your cheek. You close your eyes though you are no less attuned to the sharp squeaks of protest of being slightly squashed between yours and his exchanges of fondness.

“Eclipse,” you mumble against his mouth, “The babies.”

A chortle escapes from his wicked jaws as he parts from you. At least, he eases Moon then Sun into your arms. The most natural embrace overtakes you as you cradle the precious siren young, though they are steadily growing, becoming just a little bigger for your arms than a regular chick might have been. It doesn’t matter to you. They are slick, warm, and safe.

Sun chirps soften into babbling chatter, his wide eyes beautiful and bright. On your other arm, Moon turns against your chest. His little nubby fingers grasp your feathers, clenching and unclenching, as his mouth roams for milk he will not find here.

“It’s alright, little chicks,” you coo at your children. “Your bellies will be filled shortly.”

You spare a glance at Eclipse, prodding him with a look but he lingers on the edge of the ice shelf. You lift your head, curious.

“They’re hungry,” you remind.

“I know, birdie.” His gaze slips into something like snowmelt as if he finds you simply adorable. “You’re beautiful. I simply had to admire how you take care of them.”

Your mouth opens but silence tumbles out. 

He flashes a wicked grin to your dismay. Pushing off of the ice shelf, the orca siren dives out of the alcove and leaves you simmering with pink heat. Your words fail on your tongue, but there is little you can say to the orca siren who has decided to make you his.

You are unable to resist sinking softly in the after waves of his boldness and courting gestures. A small pile of beautiful stones and gems has piled in the far corner of the ice shelf. Tokens of his love. Each beautiful pebble made you believe he couldn’t find a better one, and each time, he has proven you wrong. 

Pebbles are for building nests for a chick. To accept a pebble is to build towards a future, to prepare for the young that will come once two penguin harpies agree to be mates.

You press the memory of a small nest and a tiny, new life away from your thoughts. A nibble along your fingers draws your attention. Gazing down at Moon gnawing his nubby teeth along your hand, you smile. You gently free your fingers and stroke his head, sliding along the deep midnight blue appendage that falls down his head. The small bulb at the end is frilly and yellow. 

“Oh, my darling,” you murmur in a soft voice. You slip back along the ice shelf, waddling carefully to not slip with the babes in your arms before gently rearranging them to rest in your lap. Wrapping your winged arms around them, they will stay warm.

A sharp squeak turns your head towards Sun. Hunger rips through him loud and clear. You laugh gently as he begins wiggling, impatiently and restlessly. His sharp, golden, and white gold fins crowning his head twist importantly with the jerks of his head.

“I know, my love, I know,” you softly cup his cheek and pull him closer to your chest, holding him to keep him from slipping away. “Your father is getting you squid. Patience, Sun.”

The high-pitched demanding chirp that falls from him squeezes your heart. He is far too loud, too excited, and you laugh. Softly taking Moon against you as well, you lean back against the alcove wall and try to hum. They adore when Eclipse sings to them, but his vocal cords are powerful and entwined with magic. Yours are too strained and, in a word, unfit for a lullaby. The best you can give them is your warmth and protection. 

Your adoptive children.

Your mind drifts to a distant echo of sharp chirps. Insistent, hungry, and then, silent. 

A slow collapse shuts away your throat. Your hum cuts short.

The memory takes you like an ocean wave, pushing you down, deeper and deeper until you can no longer breathe.

Your chick was so small. He was beautiful. He chirped fiercely. Then he did not make a sound at all.

Shoulders heaving, your breath becomes ragged. It scrapes out of your throat. Your chest tightens. Tiny bodies squirm in your arms, little fingers sinking into your plumage and grip tightly, demanding attention, but your vision is far, far away, lost on an empty ice plain dusted in snow.

You held your little chick in your arms. He didn’t move. Your mate told you to let him go.

You couldn’t. You didn’t, not until your mate pried him from your hands and forced you to leave him, to let the snow bury him and the ice creep over him until he was cradled in the Antarctic cold forever. He has to be warm. You were keeping him warm.

What did you do wrong?

No one answered. 

A splash echoes in the distance. Wiggling bodies attempt to crawl away from you, eager chirps filling the air, but your vision is blurred over ice and water. A deep, abysmal voice calls out. You don’t answer.

You hold tighter to Sun and Moon, clinging to them. Their tiny voices grow louder as they fill with hunger. 

Another wash of water echoes throughout the alcove, and then a shadow looms over you. Something wet splats just a few inches onto the ice shelf. Then, a low rumble and claws crack the ice, dragging over the uneven terrain.

A hand falls on your shoulder. Claws threaten to sink into your flesh.

“Birdie, what’s wrong?”

A gasp wretches from you. You blink, staring up at the looming orca siren. His eyes blaze, searching for threats and wounds, but only finding you unlocking your fierce grip from Sun and Moon. The babies gleefully slip away from you. Their wiggling tails flip and flap, and Eclipse watches them carefully before pinning you with his stare again.

“What happened? Are you hurt?” he demands, growling with an abysmal darkness.

“No,” you gasp, “No, the babies—they need to eat.”

Eclipse hovers. When did he pull himself onto the ice? His tail sweeps along the cold terrain, his flukes curling to form a barrier between you and the water. You want to shrink. You want to bow your head and swim away—it wouldn’t be so different from when the colony decided you couldn’t stay any longer. 

A mush pile of chomped squid lies near Eclipse’s side fin. The siren young cry out. Slowly, Eclipse takes Moon, then Sun, setting them down by the food so they can begin tearing the soft flesh apart in their young moths. Securing them in the bow of his tail, he turns back to you.

“Birdie, tell me what is going on. I will make it right.” His clawed hands cup your face. You want to fall back, push him away until you can escape.

You can’t leave. Even wandering, you were trapped with what you’ve done.

Fear and shame form into a fine, frozen layer within you. You can’t look at Eclipse. His hand insists, pushing you by the chin until you're locked under his gaze again. 

“Be good, birdie. Tell me so I might rip apart whatever is causing you such pain,” he insists, snarling just under his breath. You tremble and touch his arm.

“I,” you gasp and it wheezes through you. Your throat closes up. You look once to Sun and Moon devouring their meal, unaware of their harpy parent dissolving into sea foam. “I was driven from my colony.” 

Something snaps within you. A great and terrible acceptance. A truth so ugly and rotten, you have no hope of holding its broken bones.

Eclipse’s jaw slackens. Teeth no longer bared, he slowly tilts his head.

“Why?” his eyes narrow.

He’ll know now you are unfit. He won’t have you raising his babies. You won’t hold Sun and Moon again.

You close your eyes and whisper, “I tried to steal another’s chick.”

Eclipse’s thumb slowly brushes along the fluff covering your cheek. 

“Go on,” he says in a shockingly gentle and low voice, as if you needed a lullaby in the dark of night, “Tell me, birdie. It’s alright.”

You quake. Opening your eyes slowly, you are filled with Eclipse’s soft gaze. His attention is fierce, ever sharp, but when he holds you, everything else falls to the wayside. 

A rattling breath fills your lungs.

“My baby,” your voice cracks. Eclipse’s gaze widens. “My poor baby died. He was so small… I don’t know why.”

“Such things can happen,” he says so firmly, you long to believe him, “It’s not kind, but little ones simply don’t endure by no fault of their own nor yours.”

“Eclipse, wait,” you grasp onto him tighter. He is your last island in the sea of your grief. He doesn’t understand.

“What of your mate?” he asks instead, his teeth glint.

“He left me,” you say quietly. A fact you have accepted long ago. Whenever you looked at him, you only felt the same grief again. “After my—our chick died, he left.”

Eclipse dips his head in the slightest, not exactly pleased, but reassured, in some way. You don’t know what to make of his expression.

“Then what became of you?” he asks in his growling cords.

You quake. 

“I don’t know why I did it. I just couldn’t stand it. Everyone with their chicks, hearing their little cries. I was alone,” you pull in a breathless gasp, “I didn’t stop myself. One little chick was unattended, for just a moment. Her mother was looking away. I wasn’t thinking at all. I just did it—I swooped in and stole the babe.”

Eclipse rumbles deep within his chest. You glance anxiously at Sun and Moon. Sounds escape Sun even as he chews vigorously. Moon is quiet, slurping down a tentacle. Eclipse draws a black-bone claw down your cheek, returning your attention to him.

“What happened?” he asks softly.

“I tried to feed her, but she refused to take any food from my mouth.” A strained sound, like a sob, escapes your throat. Eclipse hushes you softly, stroking the back of your feathered head. “She was crying—I told her I was her momma but she wouldn’t stop.”

The tiny babe was not your own, though just as small and hungry and fierce. The chirps were just a little off. They weren’t your babe’s.

Your heart twists. How could you ever have your little chick back? How could you try and replace one by taking from another? You were selfish and mad. You were trying to force another mother to go through what you just had.

“She wasn’t yours,” Eclipse answers simply, as if he might understand wanting something so terribly, and doing awful things to have it, but not being able to keep it.

You hold his gaze, wetness blurring your vision.

“It was cruel of me.” You shudder again. “They caught me. The colony decided I could no longer be a part of them. They sent me away. I could never return.”

Eclipse is silent for several heartbeats. You sit, heavy with shame and grief. His flukes brush against the little ones eating. A small complaint of being bothered during their meal rises in a sharp squeak. You glance over them, wishing to pull Sun and Moon into your arms again. What if you can never hold them again?

“That’s why you were waddling alone.” Eclipse sweeps a claw down your temple, almost touching your eye. Your eyelids flutter, and a great fear takes over you. Does he not want you anymore? Has he decided you will make a better meal than a parent?

“I still don’t know why I did it,” you mumble. You felt mad. You still feel unstable with loss and emptiness. You could only take and take to try and fill up the gaping place left within you. The baby you love so dearly was gone without a whimper.

And now two little sirens need your care. They are so beautiful and precious. Your heart bobs within you for longing to tend to them.

“You wanted your child back,” Eclipse hums. Your eyes lift to him, stained with tears. “You love your child. Now you have two little ones who need you. And you have been a beautiful mother to them.”

Stunned into silence, you blink. “You… you still want me?”

Eclipse chortles, looking at you as if you were simply precious.

“I have already chosen you as my mate. I have witnessed how tenderly you tend to Sun and Moon. I will have no one else but you, birdie.” He leans in and kisses your tear-wet cheeks. Your feathers ruffle underneath his affection. “Breathe, and when you are ready, you will hold our children again.”

Our children.

You cling tightly to Eclipse for one moment. His eyes widen. Leaning up, you lay a kiss on the corner of his mouth and smear salty tears on his maw unwittingly. You hope he doesn’t mind. All the while, he holds very, very still.

“They’re my little chicks,” you whisper.

“They are,” he rasps softly. Eclipse holds you until the Sun and Moon finish eating. Their cries of attention are answered as the orca siren scoops them up, one by one, and places them in your arms.

Your family.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[2:49 am]

(cw: mentions of sex but there’s none I promise)

"Agh! Oh fuck!" You heard, even through the flat pillow pressed to your ear.

You were frustrated, on the brink of angry crying. Sometimes you hated being at the frat house, and this was one of those moments. These moments didn't happen often. One, because fratboy!Jaehyun often spent the night at your dorm, or two, his frat brothers weren't fucking at 2- nearly 3 in the morning!

You couldn't even tell who it was and you didn't want to know, all you wanted was to fall asleep and hope that you didn't hear this girl moaning in your sleep.

But it didn't happen, in fact, you started hearing bumping against the wall. God, this was awful.

You sat up angrily, ripping the comforter off your body and got out of the bed.

Jaehyun blinked his eyes open groggily, "Baby? What's wrong?"

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes to find a sense of calm and only felt brief relief of your burning eyes. "I'm going home," you answered bluntly.

You moved around the room, pulling on one shoe while grabbing one of Jaehyun's hoodies.

Jaehyun got out of bed, too stumbling after you, clearly tired and confused. "It's like 3 in the morning, you're not going home right now."

"Exactly! I've been laying on a mattress barely thicker than a textbook, with flat pillows, a sheet that clearly doesn't fit, and one of your disgusting frat brothers has decided this is the perfect time to fuck at normal volume. I'm just so tired!" You exclaim, tired tears filling your eyes.

Jaehyun's eyes widen in shock, he pulls you into a hug, rubbing a comforting hand up and down your back. When he finally listens in, he can hear the moans and grunts coming from nearby and wonders how that hadn't woken him up too.

"I'll handle all of it ok? You're not leaving, it's late and I'd rather you stay here. Just lay down, I'll get you another blanket, and you don't have to worry your pretty little head about anything else," he tells you before pressing a kiss to your forehead and leading you back to his bed.

He quickly adjusts the sheets, fluffing up his pillows, and lays out another blanket for you. He pulls some white noise machine he'd won as a white elephant gift out of the closet and puts on calming ocean noises on for you before he slips out of his room, making sure his door is closed behind him.

He walks down the hall until he finds the door where the noise is coming from. Haechan's door. He knocks for a while until the door opens to reveal a smiley, fully dressed, Haechan. "What's up, bro?"

Jaehyun raises his eyebrows as he peeks inside, there's no one there. "Did your girl escape through the window?" Jaehyun asks.

"What girl?"

"I heard you fucking bro. There was some girl moaning and you were banging on the wall. My girl has been awake for hours trying to sleep because of you," Jaehyun explains, running a tired hand down his face.

Haechan flushes bright red, he looks a little embarrassed, "So I was up gaming, but you guys get mad when I yell so I started playing porn really loud so you guys might understand more."

Jaehyun deadpans, "for four hours? Your ass can't hang that long. What the hell was the bumping into the wall?"

"Some fucking noob on my own team killed me," Haechan rolls his yes, "And yes I can hang. Ask your mom."

Jaehyun shoots him a look, crossing his arms across his chest, almost asking Haechan to keep talking about his mom.

"Sorry, I mean ask your girl. Night bro, tell our girl sorry. I'll make it up to her later," Haechan adds before quickly closing and locking his door. This fucking kid.

Jaehyun shuffles back to his room, tired and cold. He steps back into the room, confused when he hears whale noises before remembering his new white noise machine.

He pulls the covers back only to find you sprawled out across the mattress with a few inches of space left for him. He can't even resist the affectionate chuckle that escapes him. He slips into bed and you immediately turn into him unconsciously, cuddling him in your sleep.

He doesn't think he's ever going to love anyone as much as he loves you.

-

a/n: while I have you here, please check out this post and let me know your thoughts, thankssss🫶🏼

[libertyybellls]

FEMALE ROBBERY !

pairing; finnick odair x dist4!victor!f!reader

summary; meeting finnick at your capitol victor party, he is nothing short of entranced.

contains; fluff! just pure fluff, innocent- sweet, comforting, brief mentions of forced prostitution but no detail.

a/n; i was lowkey turning into anakin skywalker when i started writing about how much reader hates sand but it adds personality ok…

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

you were shivering, teeth practically chattering. the wide doors that led to the back of the luxurious party-mansion were wide open. your dress offered little warmth and neither did the people around you- their arrogance and bright colors offered no heat, no coziness, no reminders of home.

your wearing a corset dress- low cut, your chest on great display, you feel like the short hemmed bottomed makes you out to flash everyone at this party.

your hair has braids scattered about- your original hair texture is long gone with the amount of heat styling they’ve done on it throughout your victory tour and interviews. bows adorn the ends of each small braid that lays on your now, flat- straight hair.

the meaningless conversation, and congratulations throughout this party is enough to drive you mad. you need air- oh-so cold but nonetheless you needed more air. you’re feet are moving past people- people who grab at you, yelling praises, trying to get a passing word with you.

but you’re mind is racing, you need to sit in silence and breath.

you find a garden- you don’t have enough greenery back in your district, more ocean, too much sand, too much heat.

the sand got everywhere. you couldn’t complain about the ocean- oh, how you loved the water. but once the sand got in your hair, your shoes, your towel, your clothes- it couldn’t get out. it seemed sand would never leave you alone- president snow reminded you all too much of sand.

it felt like an infirmary sentencing, a life estimation. once the words ‘capitols doll’ left his mouth, ‘desirable’, ‘young, sweet, and pretty’ you felt sick- you’d live your life in misery until another innocent tribute would come along and take all of the heat. but you’d always be in a hotel room, in the capitol, entertaining the people like a puppet on a string.

you don’t think you’ve been warm since you heard those words, you don’t think there’s been enough air- but now, in this garden, everything seems okay.

you sit on a bench, rose bushes surrounding you, a few flowers you can name but never seen- only in books.

your hands are in your lap now, fingers playing with one another- your deep breathes began to lower your blood pressure.

until you hear footsteps nearing on the cold- crunchy grass that’s been frozen over from the weather.

he’s tall- shirtless. what stylist would do that to someone in this nippy weather? but you think your stylist would send you off to these parties naked if he had no decency, too.

he’s finnick odair. even the wind flirting your eyes can recognize that. how couldnt you? the poster boy of your district, sex symbol of panem, but you don’t comprehend any of it.

“you’ve found my spot.” he’s smirking, you can understand why people in the capitol swoon over him- not even six seconds and your body rushes with warm blood.

then you process his words, slowly scrambling to grab your clutch and rising to your feet. he puts his hand up, signaling for you to halt your movements.

“it’s nice to have company.” and so you move your bag over , allowing him more room to sit on the bench.

you don’t speak, atleast you don’t know what to say- you don’t ask questions or say something stupid. finnicks voice breaks the thick barrier of silence; “nice party they gave you.”

he’s joking, and his slight laugh makes you laugh. you’d won nearly a month ago- many sleepless nights covered with makeup and fake eyelashes. “yeah, i’m so grateful for them all.” you breathily laugh off.

the playfulness of this all is refreshing. it almost makes you long forget about your grim past and even darker impending doom.

he turns his head towards you, scanning your face- then to the rose bushes surrounding the both of you- then back to your face. “too many roses every where, i’m starting to hate the smell of them.”

you pick up on his small talk, and you almost laugh a little- he’s acting like a grade-school boy. “i’m beginning to think it possibly the ugliest thing natures created now.”

“mags told me about how mentoring you went, we were all relieved when you won.” you wince when you think about that, he knows that better then anyone here. the heart sinking feeling when your brain slips up for a second- that you don’t let yourself think to hard about, nor too long.

“thanks.” he doesn’t even know you yet, but he know that even if you don’t speak too much the ones you do vocalize have meaning, no vacancy in them. “are you cold?” you can’t help but voice your curiosity.

he looks down on himself, almost as though his body brings him guilt in a way. like he’s ashamed to own it, you’re sure you’ll understand soon.

but within seconds his guard is back up, back to the capitol darling. he simply places your hand on his shoulder, he’s forcing your body to move but in the most genuine way anyone has ever done so.

you feel your cold finger tips merge with his radiant shoulder, like a hypothermic to a heater.

finnicks aura is simply heat, not a touch of coldness. you wonder if it’s his insides pouring into his physical being. does he not have any cold feelings in his heart? is he genuine? “how are you warm right now?”

he only laughs as you try to remove your hand from him in the least awkward way you can, placing your hands back into your lap. there’s so many things you want to ask him, tell him. his soul is like a confession booth, that you’ve heard before. all the secrets he knows, all of the words only he’s been told.

“does it get better? even if you’ve been told something that doesn’t make you think it will?” he can only imagine what your last words mean, and now his heart drops. no- not someone like you? so young so unsuspecting, but weren’t they all?

“if you have someone to lean on, you’ll be okay.”

you frown at this, despite your fear of making yourself seem like a complete and utter loser to the golden boy of panem- you say; “and if i don’t?” you can’t help but think about your overworked tired parents, never home, never cared too much. your friends who you don’t see all too much.

“if you don’t,” he looks up from his lap now, eyes locked onto yours, only your eyes ever- not your exposed chest or the dress that rides up your thighs. “you have me if you’re willing, i think we’ve gotten on well.”

this makes you smile to yourself, you can’t look into his eyes any longer you think you’ll get lost. you feel like a school girl, unable to breathe around the presence of your crush. “i don’t know you all that well, finnick odair.”

he shakes his head, “haven’t you read the news, y/n l/n?” he’s mimicking your words, almost in a sing-song way.

“i don’t tend to make premeditated decisions on who someone is based on what the capitol news says. i prefer to get to know them instead.”

“well, let’s get to know eachother then.” his body turns toward you. flattening his hands onto his lap. “favorite color?”

you look at the grass before you, the stems of the flowers around you, the feeble, poor excuses of barely full bushes that line the sand before the water in district four. “green, not a dark green. something in the middle.” your eyes flick back to his, almost the perfect green you were talking about. “and you?”

“blue.” his two fingers pick up the bows at the end of your hair, you almost roll your eyes at this. too charming you could laugh.

“what are you scared of?”

he thinks about this one, taking a moment to relay his thoughts. it wasn’t death, no. he wouldn’t be scared when his time came, he would just hope the people he loves would be okay, that they’d get through it without him.

“becoming one of them.” he nods his head back to the people scuffling about in frilly dresses and skirts around the main party center. “so moral-less, so demanding. so many things i don’t want to be.”

you shake your head now, “i don’t think you could ever be one of them.” to anyone else this would be an insult, being apart of the capitol was little girls and boys dreams. to live so lavishly and carefree. but once you’ve seen it all, you just want to be by the ocean- at peace, unbothered with those who meant the most to you. “you’re much too good for that.”

finnick believes you, it’s like all he’s needed his whole life was your words that had no hint of second meaning. only pure, true, clean. “if it means anything, i know you couldn’t be anyways. no matter how many bows they put in your hair.” he laughs again, that charming chuckle that sends a butterfly to your stomach. “you have a good heart, i hope that it stays that way.”

it’s all so honest , the whole interaction. but you’ve been away from your own party far too long and you’re almost scared to upset people. “i have to go. i’ll see you around, finnick.” his name is foreign to your tongue almost, but its welcome.

finnick then stands quickly, “when will i see you again?” he almost looks worried.

“soon. we live in the same village after all.”

-

inspired by my favorite, @mrsnancywheeler ‘s fic

masterlist

inbox open!

[cherryandsugar]

Hello! I’d like to request a post-game or post-Cazador fic where the reader/Tav takes Astarion on his first real date (or first in 200 yrs anyways). It would be so cute to see Astarion all surprised/excited/flustered to experience something so ‘normal’. Thank you! :)

did it take me 8 months to answer your request? yes. am i sorry? absolutely. will it happen to someone else again? most definitely. either way, i hope you enjoy, this was very fun to write!

Title: You And Him and the Ocean

Pairing: Spawn!Astarion x Reader

WC: 1,133

Warnings: none! all fluff!

Summary: You plan a surprise for Astarion

---

“Keep them closed!” you commanded giddily as you led a bewildered Astarion through the lower city streets, “It’s a surprise!!”

“So you keep reminding me, darling,” Astarion sighed behind you, exasperated by your secretive behavior. His grip on your hand tightened as he felt another slight tug, your excitement palpable. “But you have yet to tell me what this ‘surprise’ of yours is for.”

“Of course, silly, that would ruin it,” you reasoned.

“Well we can’t have that,” Astarion huffed. Despite his seemingly annoyed tone, he kept his eyes dutifully shut at your request, trusting you to guide him to your destination, wherever that may be. Although he may not understand your secrecy, he’ll be damned if he’s the reason your excitement wavers. 

A cool breeze washes over the both of you, ruffling his hair. He has to fight the urge to run his hands through it, to make sure he was still presentable, of course. Faintly, he can hear the distant lapping of waves upon a shore, and he wonders just how far you’ve dragged him from home.

Since the fall of the Nether Brain the two of you had been living in a lovely little flat near the Society of Brilliance in the Lower City. He had insisted you find something more suitable in the Upper City, but you had laughed and said “Sure, my love, as soon as they clear the rubble and rebuild it from the ground up.” He supposed you had a point there. Besides, the Lower City wasn’t awful. The people there were much more familiar with your exploits, having spent most of your journey there, helping people where you could before ultimately saving the entire city. The people were also much more accepting of his vampirism, which was quite difficult to keep secret with the absence of a certain tadpole and the publicity of your groups’ good deeds. People knew him here, or knew of him at least. They accepted him. And you were happy here, having grown up and lived in the Lower City before all of that illithid nonsense.

And he was grateful for your apparent familiarity with these streets as you led him around another corner, never faltering in your guidance. The sounds of (what he assumed to be) the ocean grew louder, and the breeze ever so slightly stronger. The night air is chilly of course, but nothing he’s not used to, not after his lamentable return to the shadows. 

You slow in front of him, stopping for a moment before you speak, “Okay, now be careful, we’re about to go down a few stairs,” you warn.

He’s about to make another quip about your foolishness before he feels you start walking again, slower this time as you descend. He’s slower still, taking his time to find each step before trusting himself to shift his weight.

“Almost there,” you reassure him, “Last one!” and his shoes sink slightly into sand. Right, so definitely the beach, then, he thinks.

“Honestly dearest, whatever it is you can just tell me,” he jests, “There’s no need for all the drama.”

“Hush you,” you respond, “Come along, just a few more steps.” You guide him along the sand until his feet step onto something more solid. “Okay, okay, and… open!” you exclaim.

Finally, he opens his eyes. He was right, standing on the beginning of a short dock he sees the ocean stretch out before him, as if the salt in the air hadn’t already given that away. The clear night sky allows the moonlight to reflect off the shimmering waves. But what’s less obvious to him is what lies directly ahead. Lining the dock are lit candles of every color, leading to a lovely little overwater-gazebo. You, never having dropped his hand, begin to lead him towards it, walking slightly in front of him on the way. He followed soundlessly, taking everything in as you ducked under the roof of the gazebo.

Sitting before him, was a cozy looking blanket, set with two glasses, a bottle of wine and a lovely vase of roses. All around you, lanterns hung from the rafters, illuminating the space in a warm glow. The light seemed to swim in your eyes. You took a seat on the quilt and looked up at him expectantly.

Hesitantly, as if his bones were made of lead, he lowered himself down, still looking to you for assurance, “What is this?” he all but whispered. 

You tilted your head slightly to the side and blinked at his question, Gods you were adorable. “What do you mean?” you half-laughed, “It’s a date! Do you like it?”

If he had to breathe, he’s sure the breath would have been cleared from his chest. All this, for him? The lights, the wine, the romantic setting? Surely it was too good to be true, you were too good to be true. He looked around, almost as if lost, and he noticed a furrow form between your brows, whether from concern or confusion he couldn’t tell.

“You did all this for me?” he breathed, slowly lowering himself to join you on the blanket.

“Of course I did. It’s just wine and a blanket, Astarion. You act like I’ve built you a palace, are you okay?” you finished on a concerned note, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

“Yes, I’m quite alright, it’s just… no one’s ever done something like this for me,” he explained, still looking out over the water.

“Oh,” you hesitated for a moment, “then I guess I’ll need to do things like this for you more often,” you finished with a cheeky smile, taking his hand back into your own and giving it a gentle squeeze.

He squeezed back, turning to lock eyes with you, “Gods, I love you. Have I told you that recently?”

“Hmmm, let me think, only every single day. But, you could tell me once more if you really feel like it,” you joked.

“I love you,” he stated. No frills, no embellishments, just love. Just you and him and the ocean. 

“I love you too,” you replied, closing your eyes and leaning forward for a kiss, which he eagerly supplied. Your lips were soft and light against his own. A slow, lazy thing between two people who had all the time in the world, and no one they’d rather spend it with. You gradually separated, and opened your eyes to meet his. The lantern light sparkled in your eyes. He'd never felt so loved, so valued.

You broke eye contact first, taking the bottle of wine you'd prepared and pouring two glasses.

"Shall we?" you asked, raising your glass.

"We shall," he agreed, lifting his own to clink against yours.

"To the first of many," you toasted.

The first of many indeed.

[wileys-russo]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGJv9uRjT/

can you write a fic where reader annoys lessi like this while she is trying to order at a drive through for us plsplspls

inspired by the tik tok obviously and also alessia looking good af driving her mercedes

iced coffee II a.russo

you adjusted your seatbelt and tucked one of your knees up to your chest as alessia pulled up to her favourite cafe, which now did drive through. a god send for the blonde who struggled out of bed every morning despite your insistence she wake up or the two of you would be late to training.

it meant it left little to no time for either of you to stop and get a coffee, or make one at home, and so a drive through was the perfect option.

though today neither of you had training, in fact you really weren't sure how you'd ended up passenger princessing for the day alongside your favourite blonde. ring clad fingers drumming the steering wheel her hair was pulled up into a messy bun and her favourite pair of black prada sunglasses covered her ocean blue eyes.

your girlfriend for once was the first awake today, gently shaking you and kissing your forehead, sweet nothings mumbled in your ear as she held you tightly while you slowly awoke. you were startled at the time, not planning to have gotten up until eleven without any commitments on today.

you also hadn't thought you'd be waking up next to alessia given she had two photo shoots back to back today with adidas and oakley. when you'd gone to bed the plan had been she’d be out until around three in the afternoon, and you’d not needed to go with her.

but as alessia’s alarm had gone off and she groggily awoke, seeing you dead asleep beside her was a sight she rarely saw given that she was always the last one up between you.

your nose twitching every now and then you stirred and cuddled into her more, tucking your face into her chest as she swooned, your cheeks flushed and hair sprawled across the crisp white linen, rosy pink lips slightly pursed.

alessia was absolutely smitten with you and so in that moment as her heart soared with love for you, she decided you were coming with her today wether you wanted to or not, the thought of leaving you all alone like this was one she simply refused to bare.

however with your day planned to include sleeping, napping and lazing around on the lounge you were much less appreciative of the early wake up and the somewhat forceful change to your schedule.

"good morning! what can i get for you?" the barista chimed out happily as alessia rolled down the window. “good morning! can i please start with a large skim iced caramel-“ the blonde squealed suddenly as your fingers poked beneath her armpit where you knew she was incredibly ticklish.

“what are you doing?” she whispered as she shoved your hand away with a frown, turning back to the window and rambling out an apology as you poked her again with a grin as she flinched.

“oh my god.” her hand shot out to tightly grip your wrist, pinning your hand down in her lap as she realised what you were up to.

“sorry! can i please get a skim iced caramel cappuccino with an extra shot? and also a regular oat flat white with-?” alessia began to rattle off both your orders as usual.

“baby no I want the same as you.” you nudged her with your foot, desperately trying to pull your hand away from her iron vice grip but it was to no use as it remained pinned in her lap.

“sorry can you please make that two of the large skim iced-“

“actually no i’ll have my regular order.” you changed your mind, not missing the warning glare thrown your way by the very irritated blonde beside you who without having had her morning coffee yet, was running on a thin level of tolerance for your antics.

“sorry no i will have the same as you!” you changed your mind again as alessia was mid way through re-ordering your normal choice. “are you serious right now?” the girl flicked her sunglasses on top of her head and scowled in your direction, a simple action which was unexplainably hot to you.

“sorry i’m a bit lost. could you start your order over?” the barista requested politely and you winced as alessia’s nails dug into your wrist in warning as she hastily rattled off two of her regular orders, still trying to pull yourself out of her grip.

“beautiful. can i get anything else for you? we actually just added a brand new breakfast sandwich to the menu. it has bacon, egg, hash brown, sausage patty and cheese!” the barista recounted, clearly having been told to push the newest item.

“ooo that sounds lovely!” alessia nodded along with wide eyes, her stomach grumbling at the thought.

“ooo that sounds lovely!” you mocked her, definitely loud enough for the barista to hear as a slight laugh was quickly covered up by a fake cough and echoed through the speaker.

you only smiled innocently as alessia shot you a murderous glare, her jaw clenched as she opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it, turning back around.

you licked your finger and when she wasn’t paying attention you shoved it in her ear, jumping away as she reached over and tried to hit you, her fist thumping into the leather head rest of her merc.

“you’re testing my fucking patience.” the striker warned quietly, nostrils flared as once again you smiled innocently, finding her ungodly attractive when she was angry with you.

“will that be all?”

“actually can I get both those coffees with light ice?” alessia remembered how quickly it would likely melt in the warmer weather, hardly wanting to water down her favourite beverage.

“no i want regular ice.” you shook your head as alessia started to repeat that. “no actually light is fine!” you changed your mind, shoving the blondes shoulder and tickling under her arm now she’d let your hands go.

“oh my god.” alessia forced herself to take a deep breath, apologising calmly to the barista and repeating her order back at the girls request. but as you started to interrupt her she lunged at you, one hand grabbing the back of your neck and the other slapping over your mouth.

she managed to somehow get through the rest of the order, thanking the barista and moving forward, taking her hand off the back of you neck to steer.

alessia battering off your ongoing attempts to annoy her, settled somewhat by the fact she would have a coffee and breakfast in her hands soon, eventually collecting everything and pulling out of the driveway, not without giving you another withering glare as you happily picked at your food and sipped on your coffee with a grin.

“you are such a brat.”

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

Home At Last

Sherlock is restless. He hates waiting. Especially when he doesn’t know how long he has to wait. It’s fine when he’s on a case, but not when it’s related to the two Watsons. His patience is stretched to its limits and his skin feels taut and itchy.

“We’ll be around some time in the afternoon on Sunday,” John had said when he last visited.

What Sherlock wants to know this instant, is what John had meant by some time. Was it 1 pm or 4 pm? 

He paces back and forth in front of the fireplace and startles when he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His curls look like a birds’ nest and that is intolerable. He must look his best when John and Rosie come home.

Did he shower at all today?

The last couple of days have passed in a frenzy of organising, planning, rearranging, and tidying – making 221B fit to be inhabited by three people instead of one. Sherlock doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Everything is in place; there’s nothing more he can do but wait. One more look in the mirror makes him stride to the bathroom.

***

The hot water pours down his body. He sighs contentedly and revisits his last encounter with John. 

He’d left Rosie downstairs with Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock’s heart leapt to his throat when he realised that John wanted to talk to him undisturbed. This could mean all sorts of things. He dared not hope for anything positive for his own part, though things had improved between them. John’s hostility and reluctance to even look at Sherlock, had evaporated.

“A stern talking to from Molly,” John explained.

“Oh,” was Sherlock’s response.

What did that mean? Didn’t John know that he needed it spelled out to him? 

“You need more data, I reckon,” John said, his lovely smile from before directed at Sherlock.

Sherlock nodded and didn’t take his eyes off John’s face, lest he miss something important, some clue that could enlighten him if John left anything out.

John sat down in his chair opposite Sherlock. He was tense but not excessively so, and Sherlock relaxed a fraction.

“Molly made me realise what I was about to lose. That you wouldn’t wait forever,” John started.

I would wait for eternity if it meant that I would have you back in my life, Sherlock thought to himself, but he stayed silent.

“I’ve been an idiot. Nothing new, really.”

John chuckled but Sherlock couldn’t detect any mirth. Before he could respond, John continued.

“My legendary stubbornness and anger got the better of me. Again. But then I realised that…this, 221B, is the only place I’ve ever felt..it…”

When Sherlock met John’s gaze he saw tears in those ocean-blue eyes, and he knew what John couldn’t say.

“Home,” Sherlock murmured. “From the first time you set foot in this flat, it felt like home.”

“Yeah,” John agreed. “That.”

John’s breath was heavy, and Sherlock didn’t known what to do. Before he could make a fool of himself, John asked the question there was only one answer to.

“Can I come home, Sherlock? With Rosie.”

***

The glee Sherlock felt at that moment, still lingers in his chest. His expectations are great, grand, glorious, and the sensation is utterly addictive. When he hears the familiar steps ascending, Sherlock stands in the doorway, ready to greet the two people he loves the most.

Rosie beams at him and stretches out her chubby arms, chanting “Lock!”

He takes her in his arms and buries his nose in the nape of her neck. A sharp pain makes him yelp a little. The little girl’s tiny fingers have grabbed a handful of hair and pulled hard.

“Careful, darling. You don’t want Sherlock without those beautiful curls,” John says and carefully entangles Sherlock’s hair from the surprisingly strong grip.

Sherlock expects John to move away, so he’s taken by surprise when a strong arm is placed around his waist. John rests his head on Sherlock’s shoulder and exhales.

“Home at last,” he whispers.

Finally, Sherlock wants to say, but his throat is uncooperative. So, instead he pulls John tighter and tries to just breathe.

The trio stands enveloped in a cocoon of bliss and contentment for a small amount of time; Rosie isn’t a patient girl, but it’s enough for Sherlock to create an art installation in the newest wing in his Mind Palace. A wing that is light, kept entirely in pastel colours reminiscent of Turkish delights. 

A sign over the door, white with green letters, reads:

The Baker Street Family

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

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[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

Kiss Me Softly: Leon Kennedy x Pregnant!Reader (NSFW)

someone sent this to the old blog and I forgot to move it over here when I killed off the ask box but I do remember what you want the premise to be anon, I got you.

Contains: Pregnant sex, breast worship and good ol' dirty talk

The sensation was almost burning in your core. Slowly, heating up more and more somewhere deep in your gut to the point you had started to even wonder if you’ve ever felt normal since you had gotten pregnant; Especially since you’ve hit your third trimester. The sensation only got worse when he would leave, off to some little corner of the world for God knows how long before he would always find his way back home to you. Days like those were always exciting.

Even now, as you were alone and lying on the couch, you couldn’t help but feel giddy as you stared at the clock on your phone. He would be home any minute after spending all day in some office, and any minute, he’d walk right through that door.

The feeling inside of you was blazing at this point. It wasn’t heartburn or trapped gas, but a lustrous heat that only your loving husband could stomp out. It clawed up at your ribcage, spiking right through your heart, clawing right at your mind. The heat inside of you was heavy and warm, especially where it sat nice and pretty right in between your legs.

You could feel it pooling right at your cervix, you could feel your own heartbeat through the delicate skin. You could feel the warm honey dripping from your petals. Your own attempts of getting off didn’t work out well. Not only was it hard to do being so far along, it also didn’t feel right. You needed to feel the stretch only his fingers and especially his cock could give you.

Fuck, you wanted him- no, you needed him. You needed Leon to take you so badly that it started to hurt. You needed his touch, you needed his sweet words in your ear, you needed his lips on your body. Just the thought of him taking you like this had the heat blooming hotter.

And then you heard it, the soft clicking at the door of Leon inserting his key and turning. You sat up as quickly as you could but didn’t stand, eyes alert and staring at the door as you watched intently at it swing open to reveal your husband.

His face lit up upon seeing you, his normally cold eyes shined like oceans at just one look at you. And that smile, shit, how it made your spine tingle in all of the right places.

“You waited up for me?”

His words were sweet and dark, like a fine wine you craved to drink.

“I wanted to,” you purred.

You tried to stand up, barely able to lift yourself at an awkward angle before Leon had helped you out. His strong hands on either hip gently lifting you up from the couch, making sure you were steady on your feet, both of you facing each other now.

His hands drifted to your swollen belly, pressing his palms flat against the delicate skin as he leaned down and pressed his forehead to yours.

“How have my girls been?” he glanced up into your eyes before falling back to your belly.

“Your daughter’s been using me as a punching bag all day since you let,” you huffed. “And I’ve been missing you.”

“I’m sorry,” he pressed a kissed to your lips as he rubbed soothing circles against you. “But just think; One more month and she’ll be here.” And he’ll be given a very generous paternity leave too. “Can I get you anything? You have to be so tired by now, sweetheart.”

Oh, how the lightbulb went off in your head.

You brought your arms up and trailed them along his forearms up to his strong biceps to his broad shoulders. Your massaged at his shoulders and traced at the strong columns of his neck with a soft hum.

“There is one thing you can do,” you purred.

You know for a fact that Leon did not miss that little mischievous look in your eyes.

“And what might that be?”

You knew he knew just from his tone, all heavy and dark. His lips pulled back into a knowing smirk as he brought himself as close to you as your pregnant belly would allow. Just being under his gaze had your knees feeling weak.

“I need you,” you whispered to your husband. “Please, Leon, I need you.”

He could listen to your begging all day long and never get tired of it.

Before you could process it, Leon had wrapped his arms around and scooped you up, holding you bridal style as he stepped lively towards the bedroom. You gasped softly and clung to his shoulders, earning you a deep chuckle from him as pressed a kiss to your neck. The scratch of his stubble felt so fucking good that it pulled a soft moan from your lips, one of your hands came up to his hair and carded your fingers through his thick dirty blond locks. Were you this touch starved for him that just the scratch of his facial hair would do you in?

Leon barely stumbled through the hall before he gently kicked open the bedroom door with his boot. His long legs strode right across the bedroom as he gently set you down at the foot of the bed. He didn’t get up though, and only pushed you down until your back was flush with the sheets and he was hovering over you. He leaned down and captured your lips in a kiss once more, one of his large hands embedded itself in the sheets right next to your head while the other grabbed onto your body, gently kneading your soft hip causing you to purr into the kiss.

Leon pulled back with a smirk, your noses brushing against one another, his eyes cloudy with hazy lust.

“I’m barely touching you and you’re already a mess,” he chuckled darkly. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“Fuck me, Leon,” you spurred him on. “Please?”

Leon pressed a kiss to your lips as his hand on your waist slid down to your thigh. He squeezed the soft flesh before inching your legs apart. He pressed his knee between the part he had created, you knew he could feel just how wet you were. He hummed against your lips as he stood up fully. He moved his knee away to make room for his other hand, agile fingers rubbing your pussy through the fabric of your pants and underwear. His eyes lit up with a devious glint at just the feeling of how horny you were for him.

“Already this wet for me, dove? All I did was just kiss you.” His eyes briefly looked down at your clothed pussy and then back at you. “Or did you already get started without me?”

“I-I’m sorry Leon. Please, I need you,” you whimpered.

His hand that had parted your thighs traced mindless shapes on the side of your belly.

“I can’t blame you. You’ve been insatiable since I knocked you up, always needing me, always begging for more.” God, just the way his hair fell into his eyes, how he was standing over you, how he just looked at you - it was all perfect. He slid his hand past the waistband of the loose yoga pants that sat around your waist and curled his fingers around your panties. You lifted your ass just a bit like a good wife so he could slide the damned things off your legs and let them pool to the floor. His eyes immediately locked onto your perfect pussy all wet and dripping just for him. “Look at this; All for me.”

“Leon-”

He snatched at your waist and hoisted you more onto the bed until your head hit the pillows, propping you up just a bit. Leon climbed onto the bed and spread your legs apart as far as they would go. The cool air of the room sparked at your exposed womanhood, the poor thing throbbed with a carnal need for your husband as he bent over. He grasped at both of your ankles and drew them over his shoulders as he finally buried his tongue into your pussy.

You found yourself crying out of pleasure instantly. Your back arched a bit off the bed as your eyes screwed shut, the pillows cradled at your neck while your mind went completely blank. Leon growled a bit into your pussy as he tongue fucked you, he held your ankles loosely, encouraging you to wrap them around and squeeze his head. You mewled and moaned, hands snatching at the blankets as you panted and cried. Your throat seized, your heart fluttered, your core was dripping with hot honey for him to lap up with that tongue of his.

One of his hands let go of your ankle to finger your poor womanhood, his finger rubbing with vigor as his tongue lapped up your sweet taste. He never left you empty, when his tongue would roll out he would immediately replace it with his finger only to repeat the process.

You squeezed your eyes closed and sank your head back into the pillows even more only for Leon to abruptly pull away. Your eyes flew open and your head shot up to look at him with those desperate eyes.

“Look at me,” he ordered, “and don’t stop looking.”

You shivered at his voice, all dark and bossy, just like how he would order you around in bed before you were pregnant. A part of you missed that side of Leon, the part that always pushed you past your limits, forcing you over the edge multiple times, dragging on your agony before he would let you climax. You missed how rough he could be. He never did that to you while you were pregnant, though.

You maintained eye contact to the best of your ability despite your fluttering eyelids threatening to squeeze shut as your orgasm started to clench at your core. He had propped you up so you both could look at each other over your pregnant belly, his stormy blue eyes were truly something to get lost in as you came against his mouth.

You cried aloud as he continued to tongue fuck you, adamant on lapping up your sweet taste and not missing a single drop until you had run clean. He gently placed your legs back down on the bed before he stood up. He wiped his lower lip with his thumb, gathering what little of your orgasm that had been left before he licked it off. His cheeks were blushed with a soft pink and his pupils were blown wide with lust.

“It’s almost like you got sweeter when I got you pregnant,” he purred.

He shucked off his jacket and threw it aside before he swiftly pulled off his shirt with a single motion. You couldn’t help but flush at the sight of him. Sure, you’ve seen him naked, and especially shirtless, plenty of times but you couldn’t help it. You had him all to yourself. He snatched at his belt and undid his pants, letting them fall to the floor and leaving him only his boxers. His erection was obvious, the poor thing straining against the thin and dark material. You could a little wet spot forming as his head leaked his salty precum.

God, you wanted to taste it so badly.

He noticed you watching intently and decided to give you a little show. He slowly peeled away at the waistband of his boxers despite your soft groans of protest. His stupid smirk really only showed how much of a little shit he really was.

“Please, don’t tease me,” you begged, still out of breath from getting fucked with his tongue.

Leon dropped his boxers, letting his poor dick spring free. He groaned a little bit when it sprung free, one of his hands squeezed at the base of his cock and pumped himself a few times. He ran his thumb over the precum that had beaded out, smearing it across his head as he continued to eye you.

“I love how you look,” he said near-breathless, “all soft with my child. You look so fucking gorgeous. I should get you pregnant more often.” 

Your face lit aflame at his words. He really did have a pregnancy kink, huh? Leon once again climbed on top of you, caging you in his arms. His hands planted themselves on either side of your head, fingers curling against the wooden headboard. You spread your legs as you felt the head of Leon’s cock rutting against your swollen pussy, barely splitting your petals apart, teasing you unjustly.

He slowly thrust into you, your mouth fell open into an airy cry of pleasure that had drifted into a content sigh when he buried himself up to the root in you. Your chest seized and your back arched into him as much as you could. Your hands came up to grab at Leon’s brawny shoulders, desperately needing something to ground you as your nails sank into his skin. Leon moaned as your pussy squeezed around him, panting like a dog from just one thrust inside of you.

Leon unscrewed his eyes as he started to thrust at a slow pace, his hips rocking back and forth to ease open your clenching walls. His eyes landed on your breasts, his throat bobbed, his hands snatched at the headboard so hard that it started to groan and creak under his grip.

“God, just look at you. I love how you look like this, dove,” he said breathlessly.

He unlatched one of his hands to grab at your breast, pawing and kneading it as you bounced in his grip from his thrusts. It was heavy and warm in his hand, full of developing milk. He brought his head down and latched his mouth on your other breast, biting and kissing the plump flesh until he latched onto your nipple. You moaned aloud, the crown of your skull burying deeper into the pillow as Leon sucked at your breast like a man starved. His other hand had started to knead slower, his fingers coming up to pinch at your nipple. You hissed and sighed over and over as he drank from your breast, your nails driving in deeper.

When Leon had had his fill, he unlatched himself from your nipple but not without rolling his teeth gently over the poor abused thing to illicit a shrill moan from you. He buried his lips in your neck as his quickened his pace, his stomach flexing and his back arching in with his thrusts. His stubble scratched at your skin deliciously as his teeth ghosted over the crook of your neck.

“I could drink from you all day,” he growled in your ear. You moaned, you couldn’t form words right with your mouth, your mind was too fuzzy as you chased your second orgasm. Leon chuckled darkly in your ear, biting gently at your throat. “I can’t wait until I’m home on leave. I’m gonna pamper you, you’re not gonna lift a finger. I’ll take care of you. Do you want that?” You nodded your head, unable to form words, only moans and cries. “I can’t wait until I can knock you up again,” he growled right into your ear. “I’ll knock you up like the slut you are.” Your walls fluttered around his cock, your eyes started to flutter shut when Leon snatched at your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “Look at me when I’m fucking you.” Fuck, his words really drove it home for you. “Cum for me, sweetheart. Cum right on my dick.”

[oisins-stuff]

aurora eyes

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

neteyam x male!metkayina!reader

warnings: cussing, homophobia (internalized and against another", violence, blood, threats, breaking down and sex jokes

summary: neteyam falls head over heals for the chiefs son, actual love at first sight situation.

word count: 2.6 k

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

neteyams heart was beating faster then he knew it could. lo'ak was drooling out of a girl who was coming out of the water, but neteyam found his attention glued to the boy behind her. his icy blue eyes, dripping wet hair. the way water dripped off of his hips and his walk seemed so elegant, like the ocean he had just swam out of. everything about him was captivating. the boy looked up, tossing neteyam a soft smile before he started talking to someone else. his attention was brought back to his family when a few boys started circling them, grabbing at their hands and tails, inspecting the foreigners for imperfections that they could point out. "look at his thin little tail!" the tallest boy said, grabbing at neteyams tail in an attempt to show it around like he was on a stage. "ao'nung!" a voice shouted, pushing through the crowd and flinging sand behind them with every angered step. "are you serious right now? leave them alone! you're lucky i don't grab your tail and rip it off of your body!" the boy neteyam had been staring at earlier was yelling, his voice almost reaching a scream, at the one he assumed was ao'nung. his face was scrunched up, and every time he pronounced his r's and o's his fangs showed as if he were about to rip someone to shreds. "aw! y/ns defending them, like the little hero he is! put that effort into something more useful sometime, yea? like getting a girl?" he was immediately scolded. "ao'nung! go, stay in the pod for the rest of the day. that's enough." the chief of the clan had shouted, interrupting his conversation with neteyams father. ao'nung stomped away, trying to shove y/n on his way past.

neteyams family started walking towards some place- he hadn't payed enough attention to know where -as the crowd around them dispersed. that night, neteyam and lo'ak discussed the days activities. "who was that guy fighting with ao'nung?" neteyam tried to sound casual about it. "i think he's like the chiefs son or something.. and so are ao'nung and tsireya." neteyams ears arched back a little bit at the thought of ao'nung being related to the angelic creature he'd seen with him. he was barely grasping the fact that ao'nung and y/n were from the same clan, but brothers? blood related, raised by the same people, same way, around the same age? how did their parents end up with such an ugly, rude, pitiful creature and the most beautiful boy neteyam had ever seen in the same family?

neteyam spent the whole night thinking about it, he didn't even realize he'd fallen asleep untul he woke up the next morning. he immediately ran out of his new home, remembering he was being taught by the chiefs children today. he spotted two green figures standing by lo'ak, tuk and kiri. "aye! get down here!" lo'ak yelled up to him. before he knew it, he was standing by his brother. in front of y/n. up close he was even prettier. the way his eyelashes fluttered over his sapphire eyes almost made neteyam smile. "big guy finally woke up.." y/n winked at him, probably in a playful way, but it made him feel a way he'd never felt before. "it's alright, anyone would be tired after your long journey," tsireya spoke more directed towards lo'ak, "lo'ak, you and tuk can work with me. y/n, you work with neteyam!" she nudged her brother with her elbow at the last part, making his eyes go wide and his ears press flat against his head. "shut up.." he mumbled, glaring at tsireya as she led her students away. y/n put his hand out, neteyam hesitated before grabbing it. he led them to a clear part of the beach, away from anyones view. "okay, so just dive in. i wanna see something.." y/n waited, deciding to dive in himself since neteyam wasn't. neteyam dove in right after, following y/n like he was on a leash. y/n started doing something with his hands, which neteyam had only seen metkayina do. he raised an eyebrow and y/n giggled, going up to talk to neteyam. he looked so amazing every time he came out of the water. the way it dripped off his hair... "neteyam, you need to learn sign. it's how we talk underwater."

neteyam stood on a rock above y/n as he explained what they were about to do. "i'll need to teach you more about breathing, and you'll need an ilu. when you learn how to swim quickly i can take you out by-" y/n was cut off. ao'nung ran behind neteyam and pushed him in, his knee making direct contact with y/ns face. neteyam crawled back on the shore coughing, and y/n resurfaced with a bloody nose. he practically jumped out of the water, grabbing ao'nung by the tail and throwing him down. he crouched on top of him, pulling his arms behind his back and securing them with his foot as he shouted. "skxawng! i'm so tired of you! you act like the children! you're so immature! what is the matter with you? why do you act the way you do? you're such a- a- argh! i'm going to make you rip off your own tail and bite off your fingers!" y/n screamed at him, drawing a few peoples attention, including tsireya and lo'ak. he smacked him in the back of the head so hard his face flew into the sand before getting off. his hands were in fists by his sides, his tail was swinging so hard it could knock someone out, and his ears were flat against his head. "shoo! before i cut you up like a fish!" y/n was shoving him until he ran away. neteyam was dumbfounded. y/n seemed like a calm, quiet guy. "damn! what'd he do?" lo'ak came down the bank laughing, his hand over his mouth. tsireya kicked the back of his leg, shaking her head as if it was dangerous. she was carrying tuk. "shut up or i'll do the same to you." y/ns beautiful blue eyes looked as dull as steel. right now he'd probably follow through on his threats, so lo'ak took it as his sign to leave. he grabbed tuk, thanked tsireya, and ran away like a scared animal. "are you okay?" y/n suddenly went back to his caring self. he switched around so fast it was giving neteyam whiplash. "uh- yeah- are you? you're kinda.." he wiped some of the blood off the others face with his thumb. "maybe you should go show that to your mom.." y/n simply wiped it off with his knuckle. "i think we're done for today, it's getting dark.." he walked away ashamed. he didn't mean to act like that. he really didn't want neteyam to see him the way everyone else did. he ruined it, let neteyam slip through his fingers like the sand he lived on.

neteyam and lo'ak were on their way to see if y/n was alright when they heard the yelling. y/ns parents were out hunting, leaving the children alone in their pod distant from the others. "i can't believe you! i really like him and you know it! you ruined it! i hate you!" shadows of y/n and ao'nung could be seen through the thin walls. "not my fault you're such a weirdo. maybe if you liked girls it'd be safer. i doubt kiris knee would've busted you in the face like that." ao'nung was chuckling. "ao'nung! enough! you don't say that! apologize!" tsireyas shadow, the shortest, could be seen marching over. "for what? i'm not the one drooling over a guy. he's acting like one of the girls and it's disgusting!" y/n ran from the room like he'd heard the most heartbreaking thing ever. he marched down the pathways and onto the sand, shoving his head between his knees and gripping his hair like his head was going to fall off. "hey, go back to tuk and kiri. i got this." neteyam waved lo'ak off, and he left.

"hey are you-" he was about to check up on the boy when he noticed the gasps and sobs he was hearing. kiri used to get like that. she wouldn't be able to breathe, like she was dying. he ran to y/ns side. "bro? are you- can i help?" his teary eyed crush brought his head up from his shaking hands. "i- he- i'm a weirdo and he's right!" he collapsed into neteyams chest, sobbing harder. neteyam pulled him close and stroked his hair. "shh. it's okay. i'm sure it wasn't. just breathe. what happened?" after y/n calmed down he started telling the story. he didn't set up, he was quite comfy in the others lap. "it was my fault. i was distracted. i should've seen him run past but i didn't because i'm such a freak and i was staring at someone like a lovestruck girl- why am i even hiding it anymore i was staring at a guy. another dude and i bled because of it. i was staring at you and i got what i deserve for being such a creep! i'm so disgusting i can't help but hate myself and i know if the rest of the clan found out they'd hate me too! i wouldn't be the chiefs kid anymore id be the perverted little outcast and ao'nung would just love that. he wants that. i deserve that..." he trailed off. the only thing that could be heard were sniffles and the ocean. neteyam was trying to move past the fact that y/n just openly admitted to staring at him so he could comfort him.

"it wasn't. you couldn't have done anything. you're not a weirdo, y/n. you're perfect. you're the best fucking guy i've met and you deserve so much more then that. you deserve to date a great person- a great boy -because its okay to be that way. boys who like other guys aren't weirdos. unless i'm an absolute freak too, you're perfectly fine liking whoever you do. you like guys. guys like you. i like you-" he stopped talking. he just came out, confessed and comforted the boy in his lap all at once. he was gonna get his family kicked off the island if ao'nung found out, but he didn't care. "fuck- i'm sorry. ignore that." the teary eyed boy in his lap sat up, his face unintentionally close to neteyams. "is it true?" he whispered, sending shivers down the blue boys spine. "well- i-" his words caught in his throat, "i'm sorry. it is, but i shouldn't have said it. just please don't tell anyone, i don't want to ruin this for my family. they're just start to fit in and-" he was interrupted by lips meeting his. it wasn't a lip crashing into lip, sloppy kiss. it was gentle. everything about it was so perfect. it was exactly how he'd expect the gentle boy to kiss. it was soft and understanding. it felt like home. it was warm and caring and he didn't feel like anything was expected of him. he didn't have to push himself to being anything right now because he was home. this was home. sitting on the beach, a breeze blowing and crashing the cold water up onto the shore. a kind, beautiful boy in his lap kissing him. it was where he belonged.

y/n and neteyam woke up around the same time, y/n finding himself curled up against the taller. thankfully not many people saw, and those who did didn't care. "oh my god! did you get laid?" lo'ak tumbled down the bank speaking without thinking again. "kä neto!" neteyam hissed. y/n sat up, rubbing his eyes and yawning. "no- it's okay. we should start work again anyways, you need an ilu!" he jumped up as if last night hadn't happened. as if he hadn't broken down and kissed another boy.

when tsireya and tuk were ready to train, they all went back to their designated areas. "today i'm gonna teach you how to breath! aha-" y/n was trying to avoid any conversation of the night prior. "sit." and neteyam sat. after he taught him how breath underwater easily, which was a grueling task considering how flustered both men got touching each others chests to feel the breathing, it was time for ilu. y/n called his over, immediately hopping on. "this is zeriah," he connected his braid, "hop on and we'll get you one." neteyam awkwardly sat behind y/n, not sure how to hold on. "i'm not contagious ya know.." y/n grabbed neteyams hands and wrapped them around his stomach. "oh- sorry..." he was glad he wasn't visible. before he knew it they were flying- just like his ikran. "we're going under be ready.." y/n said literal seconds before they dove underwater, going so fast that neteyam had to grab on tighter, pushing himself more against y/n and putting his head down. it was definitely on purpose. it didn't take long for him to wrangle an ilu and connect with it. he was slightly disappointed at the fact that he had to ride back without touching y/n, but he did anyways. when they got back lo'ak was already waiting to taunt them. "hey lovebirds. how many rounds did you fit in out there?" he looked at tsireya, waiting for her to laugh. "none, unfortunately." y/n pulled neteyam down to his height and gave him a dramatically long kiss just to prove a point. "but hopefully you get some in with my sister, seeing how obsessed you've been lately." he flashed the cockiest grin while walking past a shocked lo'ak, dragging neteyam with him.

"net, what are we?" the question was so sudden it stunned him into silence for a moment. the two were sitting on a pathway outside of neteyams pod just before eclipse. "oh- i uhm- i'm not sure-" he knew they both wanted it. "neteyam sully, can i be your boyfriend?" y/n got on one knee like he'd seen jake do to netytiri. "of course, my love." he replied the way he'd seen hit mother reply. they were centimeters away from a kiss when they heard tuk, "if you guys have kids will their eyes be blue or yellow? or both?" she was jumping up and down. jake walked out behind her, "i hope it would be both, like the aurora. but i guess that probably won't happen with you two." he winked at y/n before pulling tuk back inside to leave them alone.

"oh my god!" neteyam wanted to jump off the pathway until he stopped breathing out of embarrassment. his dad 100% did that on purpose. "it's okay, it's kinda cute. aurora eyes."y/n laid his head in the others lap. "i guess.. when it isn't my fucking father saying it!" he said the cuss word quietly, which made y/n laugh.

"hey net?" y/n looked up, hearts in his eyes. "yeah?" they were so in love it would make a single person cry. "i think i want you to be my mate. i think..." he paused, "no. i know it. i see you. neteyam." he flashed the same soft smile he did when they first met. "i see you too, y/n." he was still as fascinated at he was when they first saw each other. his heart still beat faster than he used to know it could when he was around him.

they wanted those babies with beautiful aurora eyes, even if it was impossible.

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Stranger 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Destroyer!Chris

Summary: A stranger buys the farmstead nearby and disturbs your sleepy village life.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You keep a frantic pace away from Clyde's place. Well, it isn't his anymore. You realise then you didn't get a name. You didn't get much of anything. Oh god. That was horrible. You told your grandmother you didn't want to bother. That man doesn't need a pie.

You come to the end of the drive and turn down the country road. At least it's good exercise. You shrug to yourself and cringe as you try to shake off the humiliation. Just stop thinking about it.

'Pie.'

Ugh, could you not think of anything else to say? You mutter to yourself about how stupid you are. What are you going to tell your grandma? She'll have a thousand questions, as nosy as she is.

As you carry on, wiping your sweaty palms on your flowy linen pants, you hear a rumbling. It's the familiar noise of a farmer's truck. You sidle over on the shoulder to make way for the passerby. To your surprise and chagrin, they don't pass. Instead, they slow and keep a snailish pace with you.

"Hey," the man calls. You know it's the stranger, his voice is stamped in your head; 'pie'. His eyes too. His bold blue irises stormy like the ocean. "Hey, let me give you a ride. Must be quite a ways you came down here."

"It's okay," you refuse to look over, "I'm fine."

"It's not too much trouble. I'm headed into town for some supplies. Maybe you know where I can find some chain."

He revs the truck, idling then bouncing forward with each step you make. You ball your fists tight as you stomp on. Why won't he let you go hide in shame?

"It was real sweet to bring that pie," he says, "what kind was it? I couldn't tell."

"Rhubarb," you answer, still bearing down on the country road. "I can walk, sir."

"I... I hope I didn't scare you," he says.

You're silent. You stalk onward. Home, home, always so far away. His stick shift cranks and the truck stops. He leaves it running as the door pops open and his footsteps march over the pavement onto the gravel.

"Will you please stop?" He comes up behind you, "look, where I'm from, we keep things even. You brought me a pie, I'll give you a ride."

You just want him to leave you alone. He might go away quicker if you just let him drive you. Then again, you don't like the idea of being alone in a car with him.

"No thank you."

"Hmm," he as good as growls, "you're the first unfriendly face I've met around here."

"I'm not..." you let your voice trail off, "sorry sir, but it's not far."

"Then it's no big thing."

"I like to walk," you squeak.

"Damn stubborn," he comments as he stops.

You keep going as his footsteps trail away. You don't look back as his engine roars again. He falls back into the same pattern as before, lurching forward little by little with your steps. You want him to go away so badly. You have tears in your eyes.

You look across the field. The Berrys are nice people. You gauge the distance to the trees. There's an old path you haven't been along since Cassidy still lived at home, your old babysitter.

You veer suddenly and fall into a sprint across the expanse of tall grass. You must look ridiculous but you've already made such a fool of yourself that it hardly matters. You're not really thinking, you're panicking.

You hear his engine stop and grumble in place. You pump your arms as you race over the flat ground and disappear behind the old well and down towards the brush. Your lungs burn but you don't stop. You can't.

He wouldn't follow you, would he?

You don't stop until you have to. You gasp and gulp and peer over your shoulder into the trees. There's nothing but the moss and scrambling critters. You stumble and lean on a thick trunk.

Great. You really outdid yourself. That man must think you're insane. Maybe you are.

You catch your breath and set back on the path home. Too bad the village is so small. The only way you'll never run into him again is if you take on a self-imposed exile.

Or you could just become a hermit.

You come in sight of your grandma's house. She's on the porch, swaying in the bench swing as she crochets. You tramp up the steps as she glance over without turning her head.

“That was quick,” she comments. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing,” you lie.

“You're a mess,” she scowls at your pants, mud splattered up the chambray.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you shrug. “Just took a shortcut.

“Mhmm, aren't you going to tell me about them?”

“Um,” you move to lean on the porch railing, “it was just some guy.”

“Some guy?” She wonders, needles clacking. “Young, old?”

“Er, I guess, pretty young…”

“So no wife? Single, hm,” she mulls.

“I think. I didn't ask.”

“Well, what's his name?”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” She narrows her eyes.

“I didn't… get it.”

“Ugh,” she frowns, “I should've gone myself but my hip. I'll have to call Lynette and see if she's heard anythinf else.”

“Sorry,” you pout.

“Well, you never were very social,” she tuts, “but I'd say you're more than old enough to learn. I'd like to have a great grandchild or two before I'm in the ground.”

“Grandma,” you exclaim, “don't talk like that.”

“You need me too. You need sense. You have no sense of urgency, dear. In a place like this, that's saying something.”

You deflate and throw your hands up, “sorry to disappoint… again.”

You push yourself off the railing and drag your feet towards the door.

“Oh don't be a child,” she reproaches.

You ignore her snipe, “what do you want for dinner?”

“Already in the oven,” she states tritely, “silly me, I thought you might invite the new neighbour to meet me, since I'm a but limited at the moment.”

“I… didn't think.”

She hums in disapproving agreement. You continue inside before she can make you feel any smaller. You know you're behind, you always have been. You're just as disappointed as she is.