#and she fears the endless sea a little. fears the way it calls her to return to its depths. uses bits of vengestone to push it out of

[penofwildfire]

Something so so cool and fun to me about the idea of Nya having this intrinsic connection to specifically her own realm's water. She became the Endless Sea. She could feel and sense every part of it, getting pulled into the sky and forming clouds, raining down everywhere, going through the whole water cycle again and again and again. And yes she's regained a flesh and blood body, but parts of her will always be in the sea, intertwined with it all, with Nyad even. She can control water from other realms, sure. But it's not her water, and she can tell. She can feel where her own ocean ends and others begin, can feel the waters spilling into eachother, every foreign raindrop distinct from herself.

[running-with-kn1ves]

A Siren's Hunger

A/N: Wrote this a year (?) ago but decided to edit it to make it post-worthy. Idk what I was on when I wrote this.

CW: reader losing a lot of blood, biting, graphic fears of being eaten, predator vs prey, sharp teethses Synopsis: Dragged underwater by a siren, you play a series of games to prevent her from devouring you whole, only to offer an uncomfortable proposition in exchange for your life.

"Eight... nine... ten! Come out, come out, wherever you are!" 

You covered your mouth with pruned fingers, roughly cutting off any oxygen as your chest pounded. Your heart was going a mile a minute, as if you were a small, skittish creature hiding from something ready to devour. You peered around the rock you hid behind, eyes darting around the small body of water and searching for any signs of movement. The water rippled in small waves but you couldn't tell where they were coming from. 

The water always seemed to be moving, no matter if everything inside of it stood still. You gripped the rock with one hand, the other still covering your mouth and nose as you tried to breathe as quietly as possible. 

Your eyes were wide and alert, your mind chanting prayers and hopes of being hidden enough to at least last through this game. But a fin flipped to your left, creating waves and reverbed echoes in the shadowy cave. You jerked back behind the large boulder, splashing lightly in the water as you sank lower to hide yourself. Your entire body was wet, hair dripping as your clothes were drenched to the point of sagging. 

They clung to your skin, each layer sticky and damp and refusing to let go. Your shoes made it impossible to swim long distances, and the sweater entrapping your arms and torso made you sink slightly. At this point you were tempted to take it off if it meant you had a better chance at swimming away. 

The sound of slapping on the water was closer now, hums of excitement and curiosity only a few feet away from the rock you desperately held on to. Her voice was so near, crystal clear and beautiful snippets of a song you had never heard. It was enchanting, drawing your hand away from your mouth. Your eyes glazed over, begging to be drawn out from behind the rock and towards the alluring voice. You tried to push back, digging your nails into the boulders surface and even wrapping your legs around it. But it wasn't enough; your body had a new goal that didn't involve survival. Mere attraction, a fatal seduction that would turn you to nothing but clumps of wet meat in the sea.

It felt like your skin was on fire, burning up in the cool water as you tried to shut your eyes and plug your ears. But as the singing got louder, a soft and tempting melodic voice calling to you, you couldn't hold back. Your mind grew hazy, only focusing on the fins sticking out of the deep water and the enchanting voice that clouded your senses. 

As soon as you realized your mistake --stepping a mere few inches beside the boulder rather than behind it-- you were too late. 

"Boo!" She shouted. The end of her siren song caused you to snap out of your trance and shriek at her sunken, angled face. 

You swam back to the rock as she laughed, your nails scraping against the rough surface as you clung to it for security. 

"You're so easy," she giggled, her mouth opening to air rows of shark-like sharp, lethal, teeth. 

"You, cheated--" Huddling into yourself you shyed away from her with a heavy exhale. She made you afraid, every part of her screaming at you to “run away or be eaten” but you couldn't; in this small little pool, stuck in this freezing cave, you had no way out. Well, no way without drowning first, or being “shredded alive” as the siren sweetly put it after bringing you in here.

You shuddered, looking down at the underwater hole opening to the endless sea that tempted you. If you were just a little bit stronger, a little faster, you could make it out of this sparkling, terrifying cave that you got dragged in. 

"I didnt cheat," she licked her lips, bobbing up and down in the water. "You're just a sore loser. Now, my prize?" 

You clenched your teeth, traveling around the boulder to the other side as she pursued you. Her slick, charcoal hair nearly covered the boney and wide features of her face; terrifying electric blue eyes peering deeply at you, like a prey she couldn't let out of her sight lest it bolt. She was bizarrely gaunt, yet possessed an unseen strength and serratedness in her teeth and fingers, her tail a flexible whip that had yet to be used against you.

But, that doesn't count! You used a method I couldn't get away from, s-so--" 

"You could have gotten away if you tried hard enough." She lifted an eyebrow, continuing to float at you around the boulder, but not yet striking. "I've had humans manage to escape. They've been few and far between but..." she grinned maliciously, reminiscing on their taste and fond memories of such chase. "If you really wanted it, you could have won. But you didn't." 

"You have an unfair advantage," you scowled, trying to protect yourself from her hands that seemed keen on grabbing yours. "Please, uhm," 

"Alette. Did you forget already?" 

"Well it's kind of hard to remember when you're threatening to maim me!" You shot back. You were panicking, hardly a head above begging for your life and cussing her out simultaneously. "Please just give me another chance,  just one more game--" 

"That's what you said last time, little fish. And the time before that," She drew closer as you tried to run around the rock again; those eyes, solidly blue and vibrant-- how could something be so bright in such a lightless cave?

 "When are you going to accept your fate? I dont mind an easy meal." She grabbed your hand with a snarl, stopping you from swimming away. "What other choice do you have than to give in, It's not like you're going to escape any time soon." 

Despite how much you resented the siren, she was right. You had gotten yourself stuck in this situation-- night swimming at the beach, ALONE-- and now had no way of leaving or calling for help. And it was clear that Alette wasnt going to provide any assistance away from this forsaken air pocketed cave, unless it consisted of eating you. 

"That doesn't mean I'm just going to let you kill me!" 

"We play this little game over and over again just to let you keep some dignity. Face it-- stop struggling and let me take a bite." 

She opened her mouth, aiming for your throat. 

"No!" You shouted, shoving her pointed, scaled shoulders as you push away from the rock. Alette grunted animalistically through her pearly teeth, diving underwater. You were grateful for your mildly decent swimming skills-- or, the adrenaline that made you move ten times faster. But it still wasn't enough to outswim the creature.

You heard a rough splash before sensing her grip. The siren slammed you against a nearby cave wall, her claws digging into your shoulders as your head pressed against the jagged rock. 

The wind was immediately knocked out of you, your labored breathing not phasing Alette. 

The siren drew closer, her mouth gaping open towards your neck as her claws dug into the wool covering your shoulders. Up close, you could see her less than human features more prominently. Her slit eyes so devious, with thinned eyebrows and a sickly pale complexion. Her mouth naturally curved into a sly, widely unnatural smile, ready and satisfied to eat you. The gills on her neck and the fins replacing her ears faded from ghostly white skin to a dark blue-ish black, like frostbite; the rubbery flesh was wet from all her swimming. She dripped onto you, murky water running from her long, dark hair onto your chest. You had noticed that her upper half was nude, but now it was incredibly visible as her exposed chest pinned against yours. Her sternum seemed to dig into your flesh; tough, sleek skin meant for bumping against hard cave walls or rough sands pressed coldly onto your shivering body. 

"You know, I really do like to play with my food. Trying to see you measly little creatures defy your natural born predator is part of the fun of eating you." Her eye twitched in irk as you tried to push her off again. "But I'm tired of this game. So, I think it's time we end this." 

You turned away with a grimace and tried to squeeze your legs together. Her large, slimy tail was pushed between you as it flickered to stay swimming; the softness of the fins lining her tail were oddly ticklish, making you even more nervous at its foreign touch. 

"Wah-wait!" You shout, trying to open one of your salty, mortified eyes. "What if, I can offer you something else...?" You bite the inside of your lip, hoping she'll listen before deciding to devour you; you could see how thin her patience had become. "In return, you could take me to the surface." 

"In return, I could put off eating you." 

"That works too," you look her up and down, gulping and hardly believing what you're about to say. 

"What can you offer me that's better than eating you?” She asked half heartedly, chuckling at the idea. 

You swallow roughly and, hesitantly, fall limp. Alette raised her eyebrows, surprised at seeing you go slack, an act you hadn't done since she first drug your exhausted, scared figure in the cave. 

Your arms came up against her shoulders as she held yours. She inspected your incoming fingers, curious-- yet not stopping you. You gently slithered upward, leaning against her and pulling her closer by scaled shoulders. 

Your face was only inches away, your gaze on her as she looked at you with suspicious eyes. 

"It may not be much, but it's all I can offer..." you mumble, looking down at yourself and feeling for the soaked waves of hair touching her shoulders.

Before she could pull you away or you could come to your senses, you lean upwards. Your lips come into contact with hers, gently pressing against her hard, damp face. 

You felt the prick of her teeth as her lips parted, staying statuesquely still. 

You let go of her mouth quickly, returning back to the comfort of the wall as she stared at you, neon eyes burning into you. 

She looked oddly surprised for a moment, taken aback by your forwardness; a look you had never seen her wear. It didn’t last long, her smug expression coming back as quick as lightning. 

"So, your body? Are you sure this is a better trade?" She leered over you, letting go of your sweater to trap you between her hands. They hung above you, pressing against the cave wall as you struggled to stay afloat. "I'm quite vicious you know. Being my companion, or even a mere plaything is no easy feat. I personally think you’d be better off in my stomach." 

You shivered at hearing that, sinking into the water the closer she got. Gulping, you stayed silent. 

"Hmm, No reply?" She drew closer, her face as near as it once was moments ago. "Like I said, I like it more when my food cooperates. I want to hear it from your lips." 

She stroked the side of your face with her nail, running it down your cheek with enough pressure to make you feel how sharp it was. How sharp it could be. 

"I want to hear you ask me for what you want." 

You brought your hands to your chest, Alette twisting her head to look at you more deeply. She was much longer than you, her tail making her both thicker and stronger. Her arms were caged around you, drawing closer the more you sunk into yourself. 

--Absolutely not-- you began to protest in your head. But she grinned so perfectly, so hungrily with a tongue running over each toothly blade; what choice did you have? Did your pride really matter, if you were only dismembered parts left in the sea otherwise?

"I want you to..." 

"Yes?" 

She was growing impatient again. 

"I want you to, to have my body..." 

"And?" 

"And use it...however you'd like...In exchange for my life-- don’t forget that." 

Your face twists in shame at the words coming out of your mouth, immediately feeling a deep, gut sense of humiliation. But you were slightly grateful for this chance to say such embarassing words; If she were a lustless creature, this less horrific fate, may not be possible.  

Alette had the ability to eat you whole, to lure you into the depths of the water and consume you. She didnt need your permission to do anything. The only reason you've survived this long is how much she enjoys the chase of her prey, of getting them to the lowest point of exhaustion to where they beg her to kill them, to put them out of their misery. 

"Why, how forward of you!" She feigned shock. 

The half-human smirked, putting both hands on your waist and pulling it forward.

 "But alright.. if you insist." 

Her mouth aimed straight for yours. The siren held out her tongue, mingling it with your own as her teeth nipped and bit. You groaned in her mouth as she bit your tongue, lapping up the blood with her own. She held her eyes open, boring holes into your  squinted ones in a devious, hazy manner. You knew she could see the pain and weakness in your face. The siren shoved you against the wall again, this time with one hand on your chest and the other in your scalp. Her hand gripped your hair, digging nails into your skull as she pressed herself against you. 

Her sharp fangs dug into your lips over and over, creating pierced marks and falling blood droplets as she desecrated your mouth. Your chest heaved, the pain and lack of oxygen from her kisses making your head spin. 

The scales on her hands glittered against the reflection of the water; it was clear she had never attempted this before, being as ravenous and sloppy as an inexperienced teenage boy. And yet, you felt relief in only trying to avoid her teeth, letting the warmth of her mouth make its way into your cold, salty one. 

"Are you still sure this is a better option than being eaten?" She huffed in your ear, grabbing your sweater to lift up at her leisure. "It only gets worse from here. A siren’s pleasures may be… more demanding than what a human is used to." 

You absentmindedly nodded, looking at her with glazed over and droopy eyes. You could handle it, if it meant seeing the sun, seeing your shitty roommates again someday. As long as you didn’t suffer the agonizing wrath of a monster’s claws and teeth. 

Alette laughed, shriekingly beautiful and odd coming from that wide, murderous mouth. A hand trickles up your stomach, tapping what feels like needles against each rib. 

"Well, don't blame me for what happens then."

The siren pulled away to take your wrist to her mouth, her jaw widening as she leans in to bite. You would have jerked away if it weren't the new iron tight hold on your throat, slamming you mercilessly against the wall of the cave. You grabbed the arm leading to your neck with your free hand; the siren’s daggered teeth sank into your skin, its unbrokeness almost inviting her to have a taste. To Alette, it looked so right. 

Your flesh pooled around her mouth, so smooth and vulnerable. Beads of blood fell into the water below, Alette unable to lap them all up as she deepened her bite. You cried out, tears forming on the corners of your eyes as you moaned in pain. They hypnotizing creature shoved you harder against the cave the louder you got, making you choke on your cries, her bite now unbearably stinging. 

But what was once a fiery wound, turned into a pulsating agony the moment she unsunk her teeth. Blood spilled from your arm, Alette’s mouth messy with her serpent tongue covered in red. You looked down at your arm with a cringe. The blood pooled down to your fingertips, making a red swarm in the murky water the rest of your body was submerged in. You screamed behind gritted teeth, cradling your arm as it continued to leak onto your clothes. 

"I thought.. you said you wouldn’t," You hiccuped over your words as Alette looked unimpressed, but oddly sympathetic. 

You were just so simple, somehow more gullible compared to the other simpletons she's eaten. Astray sailors, cruise honeymooners, and idiots who stole their dad’s boats; they were all the same. They begged and pleaded for their lives, too stubborn to give in to death. No matter how many she ripped from the surface to put in this feeding ground, none of them seemed to give in as fast as you had. She always liked them simple; submissive. But who knew today would be the day she finally found a trainable companion.

"I'm not going to eat you," she said sternly. "This is a warning. Look," 

Alette twisted your arm, showing you the indents that her teeth left in your flesh. Deep gashes, ones that would leave clean, punctured scars.

"It’s a symbol of possession. It isn’t easily conflicted with a shark or a fish’s bite; if anyone dares come in here, they’ll know you’re already claimed as livestock." Alette bent down to lick the remaining blood that still gushed from your open bite marks. 

That thought might’ve been more terrifying than death; how many like her were out there, feeding on others like this? Were there those who were… worse? You were lightheaded from the thought, the idea that something with even less mercy might ignore this “claim” and go right for your throat like she had. Or, maybe that was the loss of blood decorating Alette’s face.

By the time she finished cleaning your arm, there were only raw bite marks left. Your tears had dried, but the dulling pain was still tingling, sharp pulses making you groan. 

Perhaps, this wasn’t better than being eaten. But it was clear that Alette’s mind was made up-- atleast, for now. Who knew when her hunger urges and natural instincts would get the better of her, causing you to lose an arm or a leg. 

"How about we see how much your feeble body can take, hm? I've observed some new rituals you humans partake in." 

Before you could respond, Alette was already thumbing your wet pants, nipping teasingly rough at your neck. You tried to grip her arm, but the siren had other ideas. Grabbing your legs, she wrapped your thighs around her scaled waist, lifting your body gently to kiss you. Her nails dug into the space above your elbows with ravenous lips coming to make a messy attempt at kissing your mouth. The slimy kiss had a wet exit, her tongue peeking from your mouth to come graze up your salty cheek in a sultry taste.

"Savory, sweet little human."

[novaursa]

To Hold Back The Night

- Summary: The Stranger was a familiar companion for you. And Jace decides to hold your hand while you dream of death.

- Pairing: sister!reader/Jacaerys Velaryon

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

Everybody dies.

They call it “living,” but in truth, it’s just dying slowly, one breath at a time. You know this because you see it—every death, every scream, every fire-laced ruin. You die each time your eyelids close. You dream, not of soaring, nor of love, nor even of warmth, but of endings. And though you live now, you have died before. You died even before you were born. And you will die again and again, caught in this endless cycle of death and rebirth, trapped in the web of time’s cruelty, a flame only destined to burn itself out.

Tonight, you stand alone on the balcony, looking out at the angry, storm-tossed sea. The storm rages above Dragonstone, a swirling cauldron of lightning and dark clouds, and it feels like a heartbeat—a pulse of wrath in the sky, matching the fury in your dreams. You think of your brothers, each bound to a fate you cannot change.

Jacaerys—the one they call “the Heir,” the one with a fire so fierce it rivals your mother’s, fierce enough to drown even the dreams that haunt you. You see him, armored and cloaked in the colors of your house, riding Vermax into battle. The flames lick at his heels, the heat of dragonfire tearing the sky as he fights against that which cannot be bested. And then, there is nothing. Just silence and ashes, his face turned to the cold earth, eyes empty, his crown no more than a twisted thing in the mud.

And Lucerys. Sweet Luke, with his gentle laughter and kind eyes. You feel his fear as he faces a darkness far greater than any he could’ve imagined. Vhagar’s shadow, vast and relentless, looms over him in your visions. You hear the thunderous beat of her wings, and you feel his last breath, the weight of that terror as he is torn from the sky and cast down into the churning waters below. The waves swallow him, and he is gone, just like that, leaving nothing behind but the ghost of a laugh.

Little Joffrey, too young to understand, too young to dream of anything but glory and warmth. He laughs at death as a child would, thinking himself invincible. But you see him surrounded by blood and smoke, his cries lost in the thunder of battle, his body colliding to the ground so fast it doesn't even make the sound once he hits the ground. His death is swift, brutal, the life draining from him with the innocence of his last smile.

Your mother… Rhaenyra, who burns with a fierce love for all of you, so certain that she can shield you all from the flames. But in the end, it is she who stands alone against a tide of betrayal, against the very people she once trusted. You see her, wounded and broken, betrayed by kin and throne alike. They strip her dignity, casting her aside as if she were nothing. And there, in the depths of Dragonstone, in the shadows where no light dares to reach, you see her final moments—a proud queen brought low, left to die in a darkness so deep it seems to swallow even the flame in her eyes.

You breathe, slow and trembling, as you feel each death, as real as if it were your own. Each night, the dreams claim you, binding you to a fate you cannot escape. And though you dread them, you embrace them, too, for they are all you have of them when the waking world fails to provide comfort.

“Do you think I am mad?” you whisper to the storm, letting the words vanish into the roaring winds. The heavens offer no answer, only a fresh burst of lightning, illuminating the dark waves below.

“She would say so,” you murmur, thinking of your mother’s worried glances, the way she would press her hand to your forehead, checking for fevers that were never there. “Or maybe it is the gods’ cruelty, a torment meant for those born under the shadow of dragons.”

You do not hear the door open, nor the footsteps drawing closer, but suddenly, there is a warmth behind you, a familiar presence.

“Y/N.”

His voice is soft, yet it holds that quiet strength you have always known, a steadying force amid the storms that plague your mind. Jacaerys steps closer, his hand gentle as it finds yours, fingers warm against the cold that has seeped into your skin. “Come back inside. You’ll freeze out here.”

You shake your head, your gaze still locked on the storm-tossed horizon. “I… can’t, Jace. Every time I close my eyes, I see it—all of it. How it ends. How you die. How Mother dies. How… I die, too.” The words spill from your lips, raw and unbidden, the pain of it gnawing at your chest.

His grip on your hand tightens, a gentle anchor pulling you back. “Then don’t close your eyes,” he whispers. “Stay here, with me.”

You turn, finally, meeting his gaze. His face is etched with worry, his dark eyes searching yours with a desperation that tugs at your heart. He brushes a damp strand of hair from your face, his thumb tracing your cheek in a tender gesture that speaks of years of unspoken promises.

“You aren’t alone in this,” he says softly. “Whatever it is you see, whatever you fight against, I will be right by your side.”

Jacaerys found his mother in the solar, a fire crackling in the hearth as she poured over letters and maps by candlelight. Her brows were drawn tight in concentration, shadows dancing across her face, making her look older, wearier, though her fierce beauty still shone through. When she saw him lingering in the doorway, her expression softened.

“Jace,” Rhaenyra said, gesturing for him to come closer. “What troubles you? I can see it in your eyes.”

He stepped forward, closing the door behind him to ensure they were alone. He hesitated, the words feeling heavy on his tongue, tangled with worry and fear. “It’s… it’s Y/N,” he began, his voice quieter than he’d intended.

Rhaenyra’s gaze sharpened, concern flickering over her face. “What of her?”

Jacaerys sighed, running a hand through his hair, his fingers trembling as he tried to find the right words. “She… she’s not well, Mother. The dreams… they’re getting worse. She can’t sleep without seeing death. She told me last night she sees us all… dying, over and over. She’s haunted by it.”

Rhaenyra’s face tightened, the lines of worry deepening. “I know. I’ve seen it too, Jace. The way she wanders, the darkness under her eyes… her heart is burdened with things even I can’t understand.” Her voice grew softer, almost mournful. “I wish I could reach her, soothe her fears, but she holds it all so close. It’s as if she’s bearing the weight of the realm alone.”

Jacaerys clenched his fists, his frustration evident. “She shouldn’t have to, Mother. I can’t bear to see her suffer like this. Last night, I found her standing on the balcony, drenched by the rain, staring out as if she were ready to throw herself to the waves.” He swallowed, his voice catching. “And I know… I know it won’t end if something doesn’t change.”

Rhaenyra looked at him, her expression unreadable. “What would you have me do, Jace? I’ve done all I can to help her, to comfort her.”

Jacaerys took a deep breath, steadying himself. “Let me marry her.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes widened, a sharp intake of breath escaping her. “Jacaerys… are you certain? This is not a simple choice. And that path carries its own burdens.”

“I know,” he replied, his voice firm. “But I love her, Mother. And I believe… I believe she needs someone who can be there, always, to help her bear the dreams, to remind her that she isn’t alone. I can do that. I want to do that.”

Rhaenyra studied him, her expression thoughtful, though there was a hint of pain in her gaze. “You think marriage will save her?”

“I don’t know if it will save her,” he admitted, his voice breaking with the weight of his helplessness. “But I can try to give her something solid, something real to hold onto. Every day, I see her slipping further away, lost to those visions, and it’s like watching a flame gutter in the wind. If there’s a chance—if there’s anything I can do to keep her with us, I’ll do it.”

Rhaenyra’s fingers tapped softly against the table, her own gaze turning inward as she considered his words. “When she was born,” she said quietly, “she was small and frail. The maesters doubted she would survive, but I held her close and willed her to live, every night praying that she would see another day.” Her voice trembled slightly. “And now, after all this… I fear she carries a burden I cannot lift. I see her suffering, and I know the pain it causes you. I feel it too.”

“Then let me be the one to help her,” Jacaerys pleaded. “Let me share that burden. Maybe, if she knows she isn’t alone, if she has someone who understands, it might ease the darkness.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze softened, her maternal love evident. “You truly love her, don’t you?”

“With all my heart,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I would do anything for her.”

She sighed, looking at him with both pride and sorrow. “You are more like your father than you know, Jace. Brave and loyal to a fault. If you believe this is the path, if you think it will bring her peace… then I will not stand in your way.”

Relief washed over him, and he reached out to grasp her hand. “Thank you, Mother. I will not fail her.”

Rhaenyra squeezed his hand, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “See to it that you don’t. Our family has already seen too much pain, too much loss. I cannot bear to lose either of you.”

Jacaerys nodded, a fierce determination settling in his heart. He would stand by his sister, would anchor her against the currents that sought to pull her under. And perhaps, together, they could find a way to break free from the nightmares that bound her.

As he left the room, he felt the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. But in his heart, there was a flicker of hope. He would find a way to reach her, to draw her back from the brink.

And he would never let her go.

The morning sun crept through the windows of your chamber. You lay still, eyes fixed on the ceiling, caught between sleep and waking, lingering in the half-light where dreams clung to you like shadows. Every breath felt weighted, every beat of your heart like the tolling of some distant bell. The visions had come again, the same as they always did—death and fire and faces you loved slipping away into the dark.

The door creaked open, and you felt a presence fill the room before you saw him. You knew it was Jace. There was a warmth, a steady strength in the air that belonged only to him.

“Y/N?” His voice was soft, hesitant, as though he feared disturbing you.

You turned your head, meeting his gaze. There was worry in his dark eyes, the kind that lingered even when he smiled, though his lips trembled in a faint, hopeful curve. He stepped closer, and you felt his warmth, his hand reaching out but stopping short, hovering as if uncertain.

“Are you… feeling any better?” he asked, his voice gentle.

You gave a faint, humorless smile. “Better? I think that word doesn’t mean much to me anymore, Jace.” Your voice sounded distant, hollow, as though it were echoing from somewhere deep within you. “The dreams never stop. Every night, they grow sharper, more vivid. And I… I am powerless against them.”

Jace’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. Instead, he knelt beside your bed, looking up at you with an intensity that made your chest ache.

“Y/N, there’s… there’s something I need to tell you,” he began, his voice thick with emotion. “I spoke with Mother.”

“Oh?” You raised an eyebrow, knowing the weight of his words before he even said them. His gaze softened, and he reached for your hand, his fingers brushing over yours in a touch that was both warm and hesitant, as though he feared you might vanish.

“We are to be married,” he said quietly, watching your reaction, his eyes searching for something—hope, perhaps, or at least acceptance.

You felt a strange stillness settle over you, a quiet that almost numbed the words. You knew his intentions, the depth of his care, the fierce way he held on to hope. But you also knew the truth—the truth the dreams had shown you time and again. You let your fingers slip away from his, folding your hands in your lap as you looked down, avoiding his gaze.

“That shouldn’t happen,” you murmured, a hollow note in your voice.

He looked taken aback, hurt flashing across his face. “Why? Y/N, I… I love you. I want to help you, to share this burden, to remind you that you’re not alone.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the weight of those dreams settle heavily upon you once more. “Jace, every time I close my eyes, I see death. Our family is crumbling, falling to ruin, and I see myself at the center of it all. How can you say you love me when I bring only suffering?”

His hands reached for yours again, stronger this time, refusing to let go. “You don’t bring suffering, Y/N. You are suffering alone, and I can’t bear it.” His voice broke slightly, and you could see the raw emotion shimmering in his eyes. “You don’t deserve to carry this alone. Let me be there with you, through whatever comes.”

You shook your head, swallowing hard as you pulled your hands free from his grasp. “No, Jace. Don’t you understand? In my dreams, I see you die, over and over. I see you fall, burning. If we marry, I will only draw you closer to that fate. I… I cannot do that to you.”

He leaned forward, capturing your gaze with a fierce determination. “Then let me die by your side, if that is what fate holds,” he said, his voice a low, steady murmur. “If the future is as dark as you say, then I’d rather face it with you than run from it alone. Let me be the one to stand beside you, whatever may come.”

Your throat tightened, words tangling in a knot of fear and longing. “Jace… you don’t know what you’re asking. You don’t know what I’ve seen. I am haunted, every moment, every breath. There is a darkness around me that you cannot see.”

“I see you,” he whispered, his voice rough and resolute. “And that is enough.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, and he reached up to brush it away, his touch warm and gentle, like the promise of sunlight breaking through clouds. “Please, Y/N. Don’t push me away. Let me be here with you, let me share the burden.”

For a moment, you allowed yourself to hope, to think that perhaps his love could be enough to shield you, that perhaps this weight could be lightened. But then the visions surfaced again, sharp and unyielding, and you saw it once more—Jace, falling, burning, slipping from your grasp as fate tore him away.

“No, Jace,” you whispered, voice trembling as you pulled back. “It would be selfish of me. I can’t… I can’t be the reason you suffer, the reason you fall.”

He shook his head, frustration and love warring in his gaze. “Y/N, this isn’t just about you. This is about us. Don’t you understand? I would rather suffer by your side than live without you.”

The silence between you was thick, filled with all the unspoken fears and dreams, the shadows of what could be and what would never come to pass. Finally, you turned away, the words barely escaping your lips.

“If you marry me, you will only bring the end closer.”

He rose to his feet, standing over you, his hand still hovering as if he wanted to touch you but feared you would slip away. “Then let it come,” he murmured. “Let the end come, if that is what it means to love you. But I will not turn away, Y/N. I will not abandon you to the dark.”

A part of you wanted to believe him, to let yourself fall into his embrace and allow him to bear the weight of your pain. But you knew, deep down, that the darkness within you was a burden only you could carry.

“Then we will face it as one,” he whispered, determination firm in his gaze, as if he could will away your fears by sheer force of love. “Even if it means standing in the fire.”

And though a part of you wanted to protest, to argue, you felt yourself soften, your heart stirring with a fragile, flickering hope. Perhaps, just perhaps, you could stand beside him in the dark. Perhaps, with him, the dreams would loosen their hold, and you could find a measure of peace.

But the shadows lingered, and even as he held you, the visions danced on the edge of your mind, whispering that love was just another kind of flame, destined to burn out.

[bamsywrites]

And Comes Dawn pt iv

Pairing: sauron/halbrand x reader

Summary: truths are revealed.

Warings: talk of mass murder, mentions of death, family loss, angst, reader gets angry a little bit, flashbacks, I'm sure yall will have more questions

Notes: this part is kinda short. I'm not super fond of it. I don't think I got galadriel down. Idk Idk I just think it doesn't read all that great. Feedback is appreciated. I love yall honestly.

Series Masterlist

He could feel the beast approaching before he saw the masts in the fog. The impending doom of everyone on board this raft was minutes away and the elf set his plans aflame with 4 words.

“I know your face.”

Her words and the look on your face as she spoke them played over and over on an endless loop. He could not figure out what you could possibly have done to gain the elves' attention. You stood there still, looking as if you wanted the sea to swallow you whole.

“Look! There's a ship.” Someone called. Everyone looked toward the horizon, but he slowly made his way towards you. He couldn't let you die, even though it was the sole reason he'd called the beast here. Perhaps he'd never be able to do it either way, but he knew now that your death wasn't an option.

There was a small back and forth, was it a corsair ship or was it help? It didn't take long before he hear your voice whisper the truth.

“That's our ship.”

No sooner had the words left your mouth, did screaming and panic set in amongst the ship inhabitants, one even pushing the elf overboard. He could see the fear on face, feel it emanating off of you. Your arms wrapped around your body and eyes clamped closed. His attempts to block you from his mind had made you feel alone. He could see that much. He knew in that instance he'd never be able to leave you to die.

“Sweet one,” He reaches for you, gently holding your face in his hands and making you look at him. Those eyes. What was happening to him? “Look at me.sweet one, I will die before I allow any harm to come to you. Do you understand? Stay by side.” He searched your eyes to make sure you understood. The way you fear disappeared under his gaze, and the little nod to your head was stirring something, a warmth, deep within him. If he reached back to distant memories within his mind, the feeling wasn't unfamiliar, and he'd once been filled with it.

It was unwelcome now, though, and he wouldn't allow himself to name the feeling. He banished it from his thoughts as his thumbs caressed your cheeks. This was nothing more than a deception to sate his growing curiosity and nothing more. He removed his hands from your face, and you instantly held on to his wrist, keeping him anchored to your side. He could feel your pulse quicken as the beast swam under the raft and again when it pushed its body into it.

“This way, sweet one.” He called over the sound of wood breaking and screams, the waves crashing. His fingers tangled with yours as he was all but dragged along with him. Quickly, he had untied a small portion of the raft, pushing it so you were out to safety.

“We can't leave her out there,” you motioned towards the elf, swimming away from the calamity.

He had no intentions of leaving her for a multitude of reasons, but it was interesting that you wanted to save her. She obviously knew something about you that you didn't want known, and it would all go away if you let the elf drown.

But you didn't want that to happen.

Of course you didn't.

He wouldn't be in this mess if you were that easy to read.

~

You sat back against one of the spikes, the raft causing your body to rock to and fro. You didn't look at Halbrand, nor at the elf - whose name you'd learned was Galadriel. You simply looked out at the waves, memories that you struggled to forget playing over and over in your mind.

“Up, up little one,” a deep voice laughed, picking you up and standing you on the table. Your father rested his forehead against yours, and you giggled. The music from the festival was loud outside the doors to your small home but Mama had said you couldn't go due to your fever. You needed rest, she had told you and your father repeatedly, but your Papa ignored her.

His hands clasped your face, “Perhaps we cannot dance out there, but we will in here.” A kiss pressed to your nose as he lifted you in his arms and danced throughout the living area as your body shook with laughter.

You were pulled from your memory by Halbrands voice, “You needn't keep your distance.”

“I am not keeping my distance. I am simply wondering what manner of man would leave his companions to die,” the elf replied back, eyes not looking at him nor attention away from her task.

“One who knows how to survive.”

Those words tore you back into your memories.

“If you do not do this, you will never know how to survive.” Your brother towered over you with his arms crossed, looking at you expectantly. He was 11 years older than you, and he tried to parent you often.

“Papa says I'm only 6, and I needn't worry about that yet.” You responded by pushing your plate away and crossing your arms, staring up at him with a firey defiance.

“You must always be ready for….”

“For what, boy?,” your uncle interjected, “ I heard no marching of armies? No horns blaring. I simply see a young girl who wishes not to eat the radishes your mother made for dinner. It is hardly a matter of life and death.”

Your brother sighed, sitting back and crossing his arms. He had the best intentions, he truly did. He simply wants what was best for you, wants you to be healthy and strong and not have a hunger in your belly.

Halbrand and the elf continued their bickering as your mind swarmed with the happy memories you had of your family. Your mama helping you make your first pie, which your father ate in its entirety though you suspect it was hornedesly inedible. Your father's deep voice as he'd sing, sometimes rocking you to sleep or dancing with you through the house, it was your favorite song. Sitting atop your uncle's shoulders as he walked along the path to the village. Your brother's jokes and how he'd always sneak you an extra serving of cake.

Your family had been happy, your home full of laughter and light. Your parents had adored each other, and the love they had was the envy of all young girls searching for true love. He brought her flowers and danced with her even when there was no music. You loved your life, and you had taken that happiness for granted. It all came crashing down when your mother caught a fever and nothing could break it. Those were memories you refused to wallow in or entertain. They were locked away so far in the back of your mind that it would break your very being to bring them out now.

“I have pursued this foe since before the first sunrise bloodied the sky,” you were pulled from your thoughts to the heated conversation between Galadriel and Halbrand. “It would take more than your lifetime to even speak the names of those they've taken from me.”

You scoffed. Your body filled with irritation as you shook your head, their heads snapped to your direction. You felt anger fill your veins as you remembered everything you had lost. Not just your family, but your village and all those who lived in it. “Our loss isn't less significant than yours simply because our lifetime is shorter.”

Galadriel appraised you for a moment, her anger written on her face. “You have grown into the spitting image of your brother. It is a coincidence, is it not, that orcs burned your village and a wyrm destroyed your ship and yet you live.”

Halbrand chuckled in disbelief, “What are you saying? That she, of all people, commands an orc army and controls a wyrm. What do you think she is?”

Galadriel never took her eyes off you, she spoke two words in elvish that had been haunting you for 15 years. Whispered behind your back anywhere you roamed.

“What does that mean?”

“Elf slayer,” you said quietly. “Your king himself said I am not the sins of my father. That I was a child. That I was to be unpunished.”

“It is still his blood that flows through your veins,” Galadriel spoke coldly, “Does your companion know that your father was an insane cultist? He has a right to know of whom he travels with.”

Halbrand looked at you, his brows furrowed in confusion, “What is she talking about?”

Your lip trembled, and you caught it in between your teeth. You took a deep breath to calm your nerves, but your breath was still shaky. “My father, uncle, and brother butchered a small village of elves as they slept. They were caught and executed for their crimes.”

Halbrand looked speechless. He turned his attention back to Galadriel as if looking for more answers.

“It was a blood ritual with the hopes of bringing back the enemy,” Galadriel looked to him. “To use elvish blood to resurrect Sauron,” her eyes turned to look at you, her accusation clear in them.

“ I do not wish to bring evil upon this world. I do not wish to subjugate my people's under the will of a tyrant. I have done nothing with my life besides try and repent for the atrocities committed by my family. For you to stand in accusation of me when your people, when your king, absolved me of any guilt. If you recall correctly, I was merely 8 and asleep in my bed when it happened.”

Galadriel opened her mouth in retort but closed it quickly as thunder cracked and storm clouds formed in the sky. This conversation wasn't over, but there were more pressing matters at hand now.

previous next

[acewithapaintbrush]

please, I need to know about the mummy au!!

Hehe this is actually a One Piece/Mummy AU, the story of The Mummy retold with One Piece characters but with necessary changes to the story of course. It's Zolu and I wanna thank you, getting this ask made me reread a scene I have written for this and I'm more determined than ever to finally get this off the ground!

@swordsmans and @svtboo I need you to kick my ass to finally write this! Here's the scene I was talking about, the prison scene but Zolu, yay

⏳⏳⏳⏳⏳⏳⏳⏳⏳⏳

Zoro squints against the unforgiving Egyptian sun. There are people standing in front of his cell. A man with blonde hair and a prominent scar on his face and a black haired man with freckles that, for some reason, has no shirt on. Zoro almost snorts. That's a recipe for an epic sunburn but whatever, not his problem.

The two of them are bickering with the prison warden, throwing Zoro uneasy looks from time to time. There is also a young woman with hair so red it looks orange in the sun. She is standing a bit to the side, arms crossed, trying to act as if she is bored out of her mind. But Zoro can see the way her gaze is fixed on the execution platform and the noose idly swinging in the wind.

There is also that fucking clown, Buggy. The one that stole from him and got him into this mess.

“You!” he growls and is gratified when the guards standing behind him take a step back even though his ire wasn't even directed at them. The actual target of his bloodlust pales and then tries to cover his nerves up with a high pitched laugh.

“No hard feelings, eh, Roronoa? You lost that key fair and square.”

“And the second I get out of here I will cut your throat. Fair and square.”

Zoro knows that he looks absolutely feral, dirty and still bloody from a recent fight. He must look like the demon they love to call him. The two men and the warden stare at him and the girl squints at him from the corner of her eyes, her shoulders tense. The clown looks like he is about to piss himself and Zoro loves it, loves that even behind bars with shackles around his wrists and his swords locked up in the warden's office he can strike fear into his enemies.

Except that there is suddenly someone else crouching down in front of his cell, so close he fills Zoro’s entire field of vision. A young man with a straw hat and a small scar right under one of his eyes. Zoro doesn't understand how he could have missed him until now. The eyes are dancing and his smile shines bright like the sun. He is definitely smaller than Zoro in stature but something about him feels endless. Vast like the sea Zoro hasn't seen in years.

“So cool!” the man with the scar says and he leans even closer, close enough Zoro can smell his breath. It inexplicably smells like the sea. The dust and the grime of the desert suddenly feel far away even though Zoro is kneeling right in it, bleeding right into it from a wound that hasn't healed yet.

One of the men interrupts his discussion with the warden to shout a quick “Don't get too close, Luffy.”

Luffy subtly rolls his eyes and doesn't move. Zoro grins and the man grins back. Sharp. Dangerous.

Zoro leans closer too. “Luffy, eh?”

“Yep. And you are Zoro. Boogy says you know the way to Hamunaptra.”

“Maybe I do.”

Luffy hums and leans his forehead against the bars of his cell, a smirk playing around his lips. The guards at Zoro’s back move as if they want to intervene but ultimately decide to keep out of it. Smart men. “They wanna hang you tomorrow. My brothers are trying to buy your freedom.”

Zoro laughs a little and delights in the way Luffy's eyes widen with curiosity. “How nice of them.”

“Hm. They are the best. Sabo really wants to find that mystery place.” His voice lowers. It feels like they are alone. Their noses are almost touching through the bars. “Will you show us the way?”

Zoro exhales. “Let's make a deal. You get me out of here, and I'll be your guide to wherever you want to go.”

And before he can change his mind he surges forward and presses his lips against those of the man in front of him. The kiss is messy, not his best work at all, but hey, his execution is scheduled for tomorrow and he hasn't been intrigued by anyone like this in many many years. The only shots you miss are the ones you don't take.

He can hear the guards scramble forward to restrain him and a distant part acknowledges Luffy's brothers shouting bloody murder so he starts to pull back. Before he can, Luffy grabs his shirt through the bars and pulls him right back in, pressing their mouths harder against each other. As Zoro is finally ripped away by the guards he feels teeth slightly pierce his lower lip, drawing a bit of blood.

The guards pull him backwards towards the door that leads inside and the last thing Zoro sees is Luffy's face, pressed against the bars, eyes on fire and grin almost a little bit too wide, a tiny spot of red glistening in the corner of his mouth.

“It's a deal.”

[refigiowen]

All I Need - A Celebration For A Nascent Butterfly

First 30%

I know not when it started, that agonizing pain within my heart. When i started to feel it, i felt like a butterfly that was soon to be.

Let me tell you about it, about me.

This city is an endless inferno, one even those at the top cannot fully escape. People are desensitized to everything, emotions as a whole, may they be love or fear - death as well has become a daily sight for everyone. The gods of this city, sitting atop their corporate thrones have taught us that the more you dare to feel, the less value you have. After all, emotions dictate the mind to think logically. Such is the biggest thorn in the eye of the corporations. And so many of us have stopped feeling alltogether, without any of us even realizing.

And i too was one of them, until i met her. She, who lit a flame within me that consumed all the grey and burned colors into the darkness that was my soul. But who she was, i cannot tell you. I don't know who she was myself.

It all started on just another, monotonous day at work. I walked into the office of Diveroli Workshop, my workplace, and was immediately approached by my co worker and dear friend Gabriel. I will not lie, i first saw him as a strange man, someone whom i should stay away from. But for some unknown reason i simply couldn't. Perhaps it was his openess to me, the fact that he would ask me about my day and my hobbies that locked away all feelings of negativity towards him and, instead, replaced them with feelings of friendship. Him and i would chat during work about all kinds of things.

And one day he would mention his wife and his son to me. It's not the fact that he had a wife and a son that surprised me, it was the entire concept of a family. A family, in most cases, is built on love between individuals. Love. Love is what stood out to me. What even is that? I did not know. "Say, you love your wife dearly yes?" I said to him, not looking away from my work. "Yes, of course, she's all i could ever wish for." He would answer. That wasn't the answer i was looking for.

"What makes you love her so much, then?"

"Her simply being her true self around me, i guess? We don't need to be doing anything and i would feel at peace as long as she is next to me."

"Just that?"

"Well, i suppose that her showing me a side of her that no one else knows is also something worth mentioning? I fell in love with her because of her true self, good and bad points, and because she felt like my other half. She was like a ray of light in a sea of fog, that fog being my own heart."

What he said sounded like nonsense to me. I could not understand his words, they sounded like gibberish in my ears. I nodded and we dropped the topic. But little did i know, i would soon come to understand them more than anyone else.

But his words kept echoing in my mind. Is that all this thing we call love is? I could not wrap my head around it.

Either way i finished my work and went home, before that i remembered to say goodbye to Gabriel. He told me that people do that.

I often times find myself questioning who i am as a person. I hardly even know what brought me here, to the Diveroli Workshop, and where i am now. I am a woman with a single friend, i make swords and all kinds of meele weapons for a living, and i live in a small apartment on the bottom floor. Truly, this life of mine is almost one which i don't lead myself. And yet i find a strange comfort in this loneliness. After all, this loneliness allows me to focus. But then again, focus on what? I hardly know myself, i hardly am aware of who i wanted to be, who i want to be now. Am i really [BUTTERFLY]? I felt a single tear run down my left cheek as i sat on my bed.

This post will be updated in the coming days. This is only the first 30ish percent of the chapter as this will cover A LOT of backstory for the Butterfly. Thank you.

[docdetective]

In The Woods Somewhere

Chapter one

Logan growled a little as a small plane skimmed just over the treetops. It wasn’t a rare occurrence, as one of the main types of transportation in the remote Alaskan bush, but it ruined the illusion of being completely alone. And that was why he was here. In a self imposed exile, away from responsibilities, the X-Men, and everything he had failed. For the first few months, he had slept on the ground, the few belongings he kept under a tarp next to him, his head propped up against a tree. He just kept moving, no particular goal in sight, he had an inexplicable need to keep moving. He mused it was the animal in him, just as the pattern in the migrating geese as the seasons changed. Trudging through the rain, then the snow, waking up in the morning and shaking it off his body. That was becoming a nuisance, he thought.

As he came across small towns, he would frequent the bars to drown in a little whiskey for a few hours, and a cigar, if he was feeling particularly out of place. In his wet flannel, long hair, and boots, he looked like any other woodsman braving the winter. On his way back into the woods those nights, he let the wolverine take over, and took out his anger and disappointment on the trees. The sensation of splintering wood under his claws was satisfying, though fleeting. It was a temporary release, a way to keep the inner turmoil at bay. But it never lasted. The rage always crept back, like a persistent shadow, reminding him of the things he couldn’t escape. He found solace in the wild. The cold air bit at his skin, the icy wind stung his face, but it made him feel alive, present. The physical discomfort grounded him in a way that nothing else could. Here, in the frozen wilderness, he could be the animal without fear of judgment, without the burden of others’ expectations. Even in this self-imposed exile, Logan couldn’t completely escape his past. The memories were always there, lurking just beneath the surface. Every crackle of the fire, every rustle in the brush, reminded him of battles fought, friends lost, and the endless cycle of violence that defined his existence.

Some nights, when the wind howled through the trees, he swore he could hear the ghosts of his past whispering his name, mocking him for his attempt to find peace in a world that had never offered him any. One evening, after a particularly brutal storm had passed, Logan stood on the edge of a frozen lake, staring at the reflection of the northern lights in the ice. The colors danced and shifted, a stark contrast to the darkness within him. A fascinating sight, such a beautiful difference to why he was here. He wondered if there was anything left of the man he used to be, or if he was now just a creature of the wild. The thought didn’t scare him. In fact, it was comforting in a way. To be the beast meant to be free, unburdened by the complexities of human emotion, of pain, of loss. For now, though, he would take what little peace he could find in the solitude of the Alaskan wilderness. He would let the snow cover his tracks, the trees hide his scars, and the silence drown out the noise of the past. At least until the next plane flew overhead, reminding him that he was never truly alone.

Andi looked out the window as she flew over the treetops. She loved to fly, the freedom it provided her to reach the most remote areas of the wilderness was a thrill she never tired of. As a behavior analyst and tracker for the Forest Service, Andi's job took her to places where few dared to venture. Her expertise in studying wildlife patterns and tracking elusive species had earned her a reputation for being one of the best, something her male counterparts certainly couldn't believe, with the amount of poachers she had had a hand in apprehending.

Locating the riverbank she called her home, she descended, skillfully guiding the small plane through the narrow valley. The dense forest below seemed impenetrable, a vast sea of green stretching out in every direction. She spotted a small clearing near the riverbank and smoothly landed on the pontoons attached to the bottom of her plane, the water gently rippling as she brought the aircraft to a stop. Her home, a small cabin, sat at the edge of a riverbank where her plane was able to land. Andi jumped out, her boots splashing lightly in the shallow water as she secured it to the dock jutting out from the bank. She unloaded the supplies from town, then attached her belt and adjusted her backpack, double-checking the supplies she had meticulously prepared for her mission of the day. It was a short trek easily accessible from her home, locating the tracking signal of one of the older bears in the area, affectionately nicknamed Zorro. Although it was early to hibernate, his signal had stopped moving, and it was Andi’s job to find out if it had fallen off, he had went to sleep early, or heaven forbid, humans had taken it off. She moved easily and confidently, this area had only one other small cabin that belonged to someone that hadn’t stuck around for the winter, so she wasn’t worried about humans in the area for once. Thankfully, when she reached the coordinates of the tracker, Zorro was found slumbering peacefully in a dug out area under a rock outcropping. Andi noted this and radioed the information back, then decided to take a different route back to her cabin, knowing the area quite well. It was rare to have such a short task for her days’ work, and she wanted to explore a bit more on foot before heading back.

Humming along to the song stuck in her head, Andi traversed a bit west before heading back north parallel to her cabin. She always had a good supply of snacks to occupy her on her journeys, and a dried apricot was halfway in her mouth when she stopped short and all senses went on alert. Ahead of her, many trees bore the usual sign of grizzlies, long claw marks dragged in the bark. Unlike all times she had seen this occurrence on one or two trees at a time, however, every tree was slashed in an unmistakable path leading forwards. She put her hand against one. It seemed cleaner, deeper than the ones she was used to seeing. She frowned. Grizzly bears and their claws were noted as being one of the strongest animals to exist, and if they didn’t make these marks, what on earth did.

Next Part

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Cycles of You, Cycles of Me | Chapter 09 Chapter 09 | divine trial⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

The journey to Olympus felt both endless and far too short.

The towering gates loomed ahead, carved from shining bronze and silver, their edges etched with the intricate stories of the gods. As you passed through them, your eyes widened, overwhelmed by the grandeur of the divine realm. The streets glimmered as though paved with sunlight, and every column, every surface, seemed to hum faintly with power.

You clung to Persephone's hand like a lifeline.

Your gaze darted around, taking in the towering spires of marble and gold, the faint wisps of clouds curling around the buildings. Everything about Olympus was larger than life, and yet it moved with an order that felt both deliberate and chaotic.

Demeter glanced over her shoulder, her golden eyes catching yours briefly. "Keep moving," she called, her tone firm but not unkind. "They're waiting."

The three of you ascended a long, winding staircase, the air growing heavier with divine energy the closer you came to the heart of Olympus. When you reached the final landing, you were met with a set of enormous golden doors.

From behind them, the sounds of raised voices filtered through, the muffled shouting growing louder with each step.

You froze, your grip on Persephone's hand tightening.

Her thumb brushed over your knuckles reassuringly as she leaned closer. "Breathe, ____," she whispered.

As if sensing your fear, Demeter stepped back toward you. Her hand moved to gently rub the top of your head, her touch a quiet comfort. "It'll be all right, little one," she said softly, her gaze meeting yours for a fleeting moment.

And with that, she turned and pushed the doors open.

The brilliance of the room struck you immediately, the overwhelming glow of divine auras reflecting off every surface. The glow was overwhelming, so radiant that you instinctively raised a hand to shield your eyes, squinting as the intensity pressed against your senses.

The air felt heavier, charged with an otherworldly energy that seemed to hum through your very being. Slowly, your vision began to adjust, and the brilliance settled into clearer shapes.

When your vision cleared, your eyes widened further, taking in the sheer magnificence of the room.

The Council Hall of Olympus was vast, a space that seemed to stretch endlessly upward, its towering columns carved from gleaming white marble veined with gold.

The ceiling was high and domed, its surface painted with vibrant, moving depictions of the gods' triumphs. Light poured in through enormous windows, refracting through crystal fixtures and casting rainbow-like patterns across the room.

At the center of it all was a long, golden table, its surface flawless and glowing faintly as though it held the essence of the sun itself. Around it sat the twelve Olympians, each radiating a presence so powerful it made the air thick and difficult to breathe.

You couldn't help but stare.

Zeus stood at the head of the table, his towering form unmistakable as his sharp eyes, like molten amber, were fixed on Poseidon and Hades, the three locked in quiet conversation. Poseidon's sea-green robes rippled faintly as though caught in an invisible tide, while Hades' darker presence seemed to drink in the light around him.

On the opposite side of the table, Hermes hovered slightly above his seat, his winged sandals fluttering as he exchanged quick words with Athena, whose steady, calculating gaze remained fixed on him. Artemis stood beside her, her silver bow resting at her side, her sharp features unreadable.

Every god was larger than life, their divine energy filling the space in a way that made you feel impossibly small.

You barely took a step inside before the heavy doors behind you slammed shut, the sound reverberating through the hall like thunder.

The sudden noise made you flinch, your body tensing as every Olympian turned their attention toward you. Their gazes landed on you like the weight of the sky itself, sharp and curious, some tinged with curiosity.

You tensed, your heart pounding as the weight of their attention settled on your shoulders. Your feet remained planted, but subconsciously, you took a small step back, your hand letting go of Persephone's to clutch at the hem of Demeter's dress like you had when you were younger.

The familiar texture grounded you for a moment, but it wasn't long before she gently nudged you forward. Her hand moved to your shoulder, her expression softening. "Shoulders back," she whispered, soft but firm.��"You'll be fine."

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you obeyed, though your legs felt like they might give out beneath you at any moment as your eyes darted around the room, trying to avoid the piercing gazes of the gods.

Demeter stepped forward, her golden robes swaying as she addressed the room. Her voice was steady, but the tension in her shoulders betrayed her unease.

"This is ____..." She paused briefly, her gaze sweeping across the table, settling on Zeus before continuing. "...the personification of the seasons."

The room fell into a stunned silence, save for the faint rustle of Hermes' wings. Every eye was on you, their expressions a mixture of shock, curiosity, and disbelief.

It was Hermes himself who broke the silence, tilting his head as his lips curved into a sly smile. "He's a bit small to be causing all this havoc, isn't he?"

Heat rose to your face, and you looked down quickly, your hands curling at your sides in embarrassment. You shifted uncomfortably, mumbling an apology under your breath, though no one had asked for one.

The comment wasn't cruel, but it stung, mostly because it was true. Though you were physically twenty, you barely reached Persephone's waist. Her petite frame still towered over you, making you feel small, fragile, and impossibly out of place among the divine.

And her being one of the shortest in the room didn't help your case.

You tightened your hands into fists, unsure of what to say or where to look, feeling out of place among their overwhelming presence, until you felt a warm hand brush against yours.

Persephone stepped closer, her touch subtle but reassuring as her gaze flicked toward Hermes. "He's small, yes," she said, her voice light but edged with a quiet warning. "But don't let that fool you."

Hermes raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening, but he said nothing more.

Demeter's hand remained firm on your shoulder as Zeus' golden eyes turned to you. His gaze was heavy, like the weight of thunderclouds before a storm. For a moment, you couldn't breathe, the sheer presence of him pressing down on you.

But then Persephone's hand squeezed yours, grounding you, and you found the strength to lift your head, meeting Zeus' gaze with all the courage you could muster.

Zeus' golden eyes bore into yours, heavy with expectation. His presence was overwhelming, his towering form radiating authority as he gestured for you to step forward. "Come closer," he commanded, his voice calm yet unyielding.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and your legs felt like they might buckle beneath you, but you obeyed. You released Persephone's hand reluctantly, taking a shaky step forward, and then another, until you stood alone in the center of the room, all eyes fixed on you.

Zeus studied you for a long moment before speaking again. "Explain yourself," he said, his tone even, but there was an edge of steel beneath it. "What are you, and why has the mortal world suffered under your storm?"

You hesitated, your hands trembling slightly at your sides. The weight of his question pressed against you, but as you opened your mouth to speak, the words didn't come immediately. Instead, your thoughts churned, dragging you back to the beginning.

"I... I don't know where to start," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Zeus raised a brow, his gaze unrelenting. "Start from the beginning."

You swallowed hard, nodding, and closed your eyes briefly to gather your thoughts. When you spoke again, your voice was steadier, though the weight of emotion clung to every word.

"I don't remember being born, not in the way most beings do. I woke in the cradle of my tree, wrapped in vines and petals, surrounded by quiet." Your gaze drifted downward, your fingers curling slightly as you spoke. "From the moment I opened my eyes, I felt... different. Not like the nymphs or the spirits around me. They were lively, full of joy. But I..."

You paused, struggling to find the right words. "I felt like I was watching everything from behind a veil. I didn't laugh or cry. I just... absorbed. I observed."

The room was silent, the weight of your words hanging in the air.

"Demeter cared for me," you continued, glancing briefly at her before returning your gaze to Zeus. "She taught me about the world, showed me how to weave garlands, how to listen to the wind. But even then, I always felt... out of place. Like I didn't belong, even in the world she created for me."

Your voice grew quieter, more reflective. "As I grew, I started to notice things. How my emotions weren't my own. How they shifted with the seasons. In spring, I felt light and curious, like the world was full of endless possibilities. In summer, I burned with frustration and anger I couldn't control. Autumn brought a heavy sadness, and in winter..." You hesitated, the memory of that emptiness clawing at you. "In winter, I felt like I wasn't even there. Like I was fading."

Zeus' expression remained unreadable, but his eyes stayed locked on you, waiting for more.

You let out a shaky breath. "I didn't mean to cause the storm," you said softly. "I didn't even know I could. I just... I felt so much, and I didn't know how to hold it in."

Zeus was silent for a moment, his piercing golden gaze heavy as it bore into you. The quiet stretched, filling the space with an almost suffocating tension, the divine energy in the room pressing against your chest. Finally, his voice came again, quieter but no less commanding.

"Do you know where you came from?"

The question struck you like a physical blow, forcing your breath to hitch. Your hands twitched at your sides, your fingers curling into your palms as your gaze dropped to the shimmering marble beneath your feet.

You shook your head slowly. "No," you whispered. "I don't."

Zeus' expression didn't change, his features remaining carved in sharp, stoic lines. He looked as though he were about to move on to the next question, his gaze flickering briefly to Demeter and Persephone.

But before he could speak again, you found yourself continuing, the words slipping from your lips unbidden, your thoughts trailing outward like threads unraveling.

"But..."

The single word hung in the air, catching the attention of everyone in the room. A ripple of energy passed through the Olympians, their gazes sharpening as they turned back to you. Zeus' brows lowered slightly, his eyes narrowing in curiosity as he gestured for you to go on.

You hesitated, your fingers tightening at your sides as you searched for the right words. "In the quiet moments... I feel things," you admitted, your voice trembling. "I see things, too, sometimes. Or maybe I just... know them."

Aphrodite sat forward interested, her pale blue eyes sparkling as though she were already unraveling your secrets. Apollo, seated with his usual effortless confidence, tilted his head, his curiosity evident. Even Hera's stern features softened slightly, her amber eyes focused intently on you.

Zeus said nothing, waiting, his silence pushing you to continue.

"It's hard to explain," you said slowly, your words halting as if you were trying to piece together a puzzle. "There's this... warmth. It feels soft, like sunlight filtering through leaves in spring. Gentle, but strong. It reminds me of Persephone."

Your gaze flickered briefly to the goddess beside you, who straightened slightly, her lips parting in surprise.

"And then there's another feeling," you continued, your voice growing quieter. "It's heavier, but steady. It's comforting, but it carries... weight. Like the earth itself. It feels like Demeter."

Demeter's breath hitched audibly, her golden eyes glistening as she stared at you, her hands clenching into loose fists at her sides.

You swallowed hard, your voice faltering as you pushed forward. "But there's something else, too. It's faint, like a shadow in the distance. It's cold... sharp, like the edge of a blade dipped in ice. It's not bad, exactly, but it's different. Distant. It feels like..."

Your voice trailed off, subconsiously drifting towards Hades.

The room grew heavier, the weight of your words pressing into the silence like a storm building on the horizon. Several pairs of eyes turned to the Lord of the Underworld, whose dark gaze was fixed firmly on you.

He didn't speak, didn't move. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something deep, something ancient—that sent a shiver down your spine.

You quickly looked away, your heart pounding in your chest. "I don't know what it means," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just know it's always been there. All of it."

Zeus' gaze lingered on you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. The silence in the room stretched once more, heavy and tense, as if the very air held its breath.

Finally, Zeus leaned back in his throne, his golden eyes narrowing slightly. "And do you feel this now?" he asked, his tone deliberate.

You hesitated, glancing toward the floor before nodding slowly. "Yes. It's faint, but it's there. It always is."

Zeus let out a low hum, his gaze flickering briefly toward Demeter and Persephone before settling back on you. "I see," he said, his voice carrying the weight of his authority.

The gods exchanged uneasy glances, the gravity of your words settling into the space like a gathering storm. The room remained silent as his golden eyes bore into yours, his expression sharp and unreadable. He straightened slightly in his throne, the faint crackle of static humming in the air around him.

"Tell me," he began, his tone quieter but no less commanding. "Where have you spent your life? How were you raised?"

You shifted uncomfortably as you tried to gather your thoughts. "I grew up in Demeter's domain. She... she raised me. Taught me about the seasons, the earth, the cycles of life."

Your gaze flickered toward Demeter, who gave you a small nod of encouragement. You continued, your voice growing steadier. "I grew up among the fields, the nymphs, the forests... but I never left. She wouldn't let me."

"And did you ever question why?"

You hesitated, your gaze dropping to the floor. "Yes," you admitted. "I didn't understand at first. I thought... I thought she was afraid."

Zeus leaned forward slightly, his tone curious but edged with suspicion. "Afraid of what?"

Your voice trembled as you spoke, the words heavy on your tongue. "Afraid of what I might be. Of what I could do."

His gaze remained steady, sharp and unyielding. But as the silence stretched, you found yourself continuing, your thoughts unraveling like threads.

"But now... now I think it was more than that. I think... " You paused, your hands fidgeting at your sides. "I think she wasn't afraid of me or what I might become. She was afraid of what could happen to me. She shielded me, not because of my power, but because she knew what the consequences might be if something went wrong."

You swallowed hard, glancing briefly at Demeter once more, whose expression had softened, her golden eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

"She didn't want history to repeat itself," you continued, your voice quieter now. "She didn't want to lose me the way she felt she lost Persephone—taken, misunderstood, caught in something bigger than myself."

Zeus was silent, his golden gaze flickering briefly toward Demeter, whose head dipped slightly as though she were silently confirming your words.

"I see," Zeus said finally, his tone less cutting now, carrying a weight of contemplation. "So it wasn't fear of you, but fear for you."

You nodded slowly. "Yes."

The room was still, the other gods exchanging glances, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and unease.

Zeus' gaze lingered on you, his expression unreadable. "And now?" he asked after a moment. "Do you believe she was right to shield you?"

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. "I-I don't know," you admitted. "Maybe. But I also think... maybe if I'd learned what I was sooner, then none of this would have happened."

His gaze remained steady, and for a moment, the room felt as though it were holding its breath. Zeus then straightened in his throne, his sharp features casting shadows across his face as he shifted his attention to the rest of the gods.

"What this spirit has caused cannot be ignored," he said, his voice firm, carrying through the chamber like thunder. "The mortal realm has suffered greatly. A storm unlike any seen in history. Crops destroyed, rivers frozen, countless lives lost to famine and cold."

His words struck like a blow, the weight of them sinking into your chest. Your breath hitched, and your heart felt as though it had dropped into your stomach. The edges of your vision blurred as sadness and guilt wrapped around you like a heavy cloak.

Your voice trembled as you spoke, barely able to meet his gaze. "I apologize. I.. I didn't mean to—"

Zeus held up a hand, silencing you. "Enough."

You flinched at the word, your shoulders hunching slightly.

But then his tone shifted, softer, though no less resolute. "You didn't know," he said, his voice quieter now, almost reflective. "And that is precisely the problem."

You looked up hesitantly, confusion flickering across your face.

Zeus's golden eyes locked onto yours, and for the first time, there was something other than judgment in his gaze. "You are not at fault, ____."

The words hung in the air, their weight heavy but surprising. The other gods exchanged glances, a few murmurs rippling through the chamber.

Zeus' gaze softened just slightly, though his tone remained firm. "You didn't ask to be born. You didn't choose this power, nor did you wield it intentionally. You are as much a victim of this chaos as the mortals below."

A flicker of hope sparked in your chest, but it was faint, weighed down by the devastation his earlier words had brought.

"But..." Zeus continued, his voice sharpening again, "this does not absolve you of responsibility. You must learn to control what you are. To understand your power."

You nodded quickly, your voice trembling as you said, "I will. I promise."

Zeus leaned back in his throne, nodding slowly. "Good," he said at last. "I'm glad to hear that. But words alone are not enough."

His gaze sharpened, his tone growing heavier as he continued. "We must ensure that you not only keep your word but that this never happens again."

Just as your mind thought of the worst, he raised his hands and clapped twice, the sound echoing through the chamber like thunder.

The double doors at the far end of the hall swung open almost instantly, two nymphs stepping through with a practiced precision. Their movements were fluid as they held the doors wide, their glowing forms casting faint light across the room.

A moment later, the steady thud of uneven footsteps echoed through the hall. Hephaestus' hulking form emerged, his movements deliberate and unhurried. He leaned heavily on a large, intricately crafted cane, its surface adorned with molten designs that glowed faintly, as if alive with fire. Each step was accompanied by a faint metallic scrape, his limp a testament to both his pain and resilience.

Behind him, an automaton wheeled in a large, ornate box, its metallic limbs whirring softly with every calculated movement.

The box was an imposing sight, its surface dark and unyielding, etched with intricate runes that pulsed faintly with a golden light. Its edges were reinforced with celestial metal, giving it an almost otherworldly presence as it came to a stop in the center of the hall.

Hephaestus paused near the box, his fiery gaze sweeping over the gathered gods, lingering briefly on the King of Olympus. "It's done," he said, his voice low and gruff. "Just as you requested."

Zeus inclined his head, his expression solemn. "Thank you, Hephaestus."

The automaton stepped back, its task complete, and the chamber fell silent once more as all eyes turned to the box.

Just as the faint hum of the runes began to settle, another figure entered the room. Hestia followed behind the automaton, her presence soft yet radiant. The warmth she carried felt like a balm against the tension that thickened the air, her calm energy offering a quiet contrast to the sharp heat of her nephew's presence.

Hera's sharp voice cut through the quiet, her golden eyes narrowing as she addressed her sister. "Hestia? What are you doing here?"

Hestia met Hera's gaze calmly, her expression serene. "I was called," she said simply. "Zeus thought my presence might be of use."

Zeus nodded in confirmation, his attention shifting between the two goddesses before returning to the box. "Hestia's wisdom is invaluable here," he said firmly. "She has always understood the balance between chaos and calm, creation and destruction."

The room was silent as all eyes turned to the goddess of the hearth. Hestia stood quietly for a moment, her presence a soft glow against the harshness of the situation. Her gaze moved from Zeus to the box, and then to you, her expression warm yet steady.

Zeus gestured toward her with an open hand. "Hestia, if you would, please begin."

Hestia inclined her head as she stepped forward, her hands clasped lightly in front of her. The automaton beside the box moved with mechanical precision, its gears whirring softly as it opened the container.

The lid lifted slowly, revealing a golden choker nestled within. It gleamed under the flickering light of the torches, intricate designs etched into its surface—patterns that seemed to shift as the light hit them, as though the choker itself were alive.

Hestia reached inside with both hands, her movements deliberate and careful, as if she were handling something sacred. When she withdrew the choker, the faint hum of power rippled through the air, stirring the silence.

Without hesitation, she turned and made her way toward you. Her steps were steady, her expression calm, but the weight of what was happening pressed against your chest like a stone.

When she stopped before you, she bent slightly, lowering herself to your level. Her warm, golden eyes met yours, and for a moment, the tension in the room seemed to lessen. She smiled gently, her voice soft but firm. "Don't be afraid, little one," she said, her tone soothing. "This is not meant to harm you. It is to help you."

You swallowed hard, your hands trembling slightly as you nodded. Slowly, hesitantly, you allowed her to lift the choker toward your neck.

The cool metal touched your skin, and you flinched slightly, the sensation strange and unfamiliar. Hestia's fingers were steady as she clasped the choker in place, the designs glowing faintly as they locked into position.

She rested her hands lightly against the choker, her warm touch grounding you as she began to murmur a series of enchantments under her breath.

The words were ancient, unfamiliar, but they carried a power that made the air around you hum. A soft breeze picked up in the room, swirling gently at first before growing stronger. The torches lining the walls flickered, their flames dancing as though caught in the wind.

Hestia's eyes began to glow, a soft, otherworldly light that seemed to pierce through the dimness of the chamber. The golden choker responded, its designs shifting and pulsing with energy.

You gasped as a sudden heat spread from the metal, searing through your skin and into your body. Your muscles tensed, your breath catching as the sensation radiated outward, filling you with a strange, overwhelming warmth.

Unbeknownst to you, your own eyes glowed faintly, the same light coursing through the veins beneath your skin. The patterns of the choker seemed to extend into your body, faint lines of light tracing down your neck and shoulders before fading.

The power built to a peak, and then, as quickly as it had started, it stopped.

You staggered slightly, your breath uneven as the heat faded, leaving a strange emptiness in its wake. Your body felt heavy, your limbs weak, as though something vital had been drained from you.

Hestia removed her hands from the choker and turned to Zeus, her voice calm but firm. "It is done," she said. "His powers—his influence over the seasons—are temporarily disconnected."

As she stepped away, the absence of the power hit you fully. Your legs trembled, and the room seemed to spin. You tried to steady yourself, but the exhaustion was too much.

Your knees buckled, but before you could fall, Demeter was there. Her arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly as she steadied you.

"I've got you," she murmured, her voice low and filled with concern. Her hands gently guided you upright, her warmth a stark contrast to the emptiness you felt.

You leaned against Demeter, your breath coming in slow, shaky bursts. The ache in your chest was unfamiliar, a heaviness that wasn't just physical but emotional, as though the weight of everything that had happened had finally caught up to you.

Hestia turned back to you briefly, her gaze warm but firm. "Rest now," she said gently. "You've carried too much. Let us carry the rest for a while."

You exhaled a shaky breath, your eyelids fluttering as exhaustion overcame you. Demeter tightened her hold, her arms cradling you closer to her chest as your body went limp.

"It's all right," she whispered softly, her voice low and soothing. "I've got you, my little one."

She gently shifted her grip, her golden robes pooling around her as she knelt, holding you protectively. Your head rested against her shoulder, your face pale, your breathing slow and shallow.

When Demeter looked up, she found all eyes in the room fixed on her. The Olympians were silent, their gazes ranging from curiosity to something softer, though none dared to voice it aloud.

Surprisingly, it was Apollo who broke the stillness. He stepped forward, his golden robes catching the faint light, his expression thoughtful as he regarded you in Demeter's arms.

"How long has he been in your care?" he asked, his voice calm but edged with curiosity.

Demeter hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering down to you before returning to Apollo. She took a steadying breath, her fingers brushing lightly over your hair as she answered.

"As ____ told you earlier," she began, her voice quieter than usual but steady, "he came from a tree."

The gods exchanged glances, murmurs rippling through the room, but Demeter pressed on, her gaze unwavering.

"The tree Persephone gave me centuries ago..." She paused, her voice softening as she glanced briefly at her daughter. "...It grew under my care, nurtured by the seasons. I thought it was just a gift, a symbol of love. But last year..."

She paused again, swallowing hard as she looked down at you, her expression filled with both pride and sorrow. "Last year, it changed. It bloomed in a way I'd never seen before, and from its center, ____ was born."

Her words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. The room fell silent once more, the weight of her revelation settling over the Olympians.

Zeus leaned forward slightly, his sharp gaze fixed on Demeter. "And you knew nothing of what he was?"

Demeter shook her head, her golden hair falling over her shoulders. "No. I thought he was just...unique. A spirit tied to the seasons, perhaps. But I never imagined..." Her voice trailed off, the unspoken truth hanging in the air.

The gods murmured among themselves again, their voices low but filled with a mixture of curiosity and unease. Hades, who had remained silent until now, leaned back in his seat, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he watched the scene unfold.

Demeter's grip on you tightened slightly, her gaze flickering between the gods as she braced herself for whatever judgment might come next.

The silence was broken by a soft chuckle.

"Weird-looking little bugger, isn't he?" Hermes quipped as he floated closer, his wings fluttering faintly as he hovered just above the ground. His sharp eyes gleamed with mischief as he leaned in, studying your face.

Demeter's scowl was immediate, her eyes narrowing as she shifted you away from him, her arms pulling you closer to her chest. "Careful, Hermes," she murmured, her voice low and warning.

The trickster god raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening. "Hey, I didn't say he was ugly," he said, his tone playful. "Just... unique-looking. You've got to admit, Demeter, he's one of a kind."

Before Demeter could respond, a new voice cut through the tension.

"Move aside, Hermes," Aphrodite said, her tone laced with amusement as she strolled over, her presence immediately commanding attention. With a flick of her hand, a soft wave of magic shimmered through the air, gently nudging Hermes to the side.

"Ah, always so dramatic,"  Hermes muttered, floating back slightly but remaining close enough to watch.

Aphrodite stood in his place, her radiant form glowing faintly as her curious eyes fell on you. She tilted her head slightly, her golden curls catching the light as her lips curved into a thoughtful smile. "Honestly, Hermes, the last time you had this much interest in something unique-looking, we ended up with your child Pan. Let's not repeat history, hmm?"

Hermes raised an eyebrow, his grin undeterred. "What can I say? He's got charm. Takes after his father."

Aphrodite waved him off dismissively, her full attention now on you. As she leaned closer, her gaze softened, the mischief in her eyes giving way to something deeper.

The longer she looked at you, the more her divine aura began to glow. A faint pink light radiated from her, delicate and warm, spreading through the room like the scent of fresh blooms. Her luminous blue eyes sparkled, the color deepening as a soft flush crept up her cheeks.

She held a hand to her chest, her voice breathy with wonder. "Oh, my," she murmured, her tone rich with admiration. "He's absolutely scrumptious."

Demeter bristled slightly, her hold on you protective, but Aphrodite was undeterred.

"No wonder he's so unique," the love goddess continued, her gaze lingering on your face. "I can feel it—the love that created him. It runs through his veins like a song, every thread of his being woven from it."

Her words were light, almost playful, but there was a reverence beneath them that made the room grow still. The faint glow of her aura grew brighter, her voice softening further.

"He is a creation of love, pure and profound. A love that transcends the ordinary."

She leaned back slightly, her gaze shifting briefly to Demeter and Persephone before returning to you. "It's... rare. Beautifully rare."

For a moment, even Hermes was silent, his sharp grin fading into something softer as he watched Aphrodite's reaction. The rest of the gods exchanged quiet glances, the gravity of her words sinking in.

You stirred faintly in Demeter's arms, your body still weak but drawn to the warmth of Aphrodite's presence. Her glowing eyes softened further, her hand brushing lightly against your arm.

"You're precious," she said gently, her tone carrying a warmth that seemed to reach past the exhaustion clinging to you. "And you deserve to know that."

Demeter tightened her grip protectively, her expression wary, but she didn't interrupt. The room remained quiet, the weight of Aphrodite's words lingering as her glowing aura slowly dimmed.

Dionysus, leaning lazily against his seat, broke the quiet with a casual question. "So, does he belong to someone? Like a parent or something?" His tone was light, but his sharp gaze suggested more curiosity than his nonchalant demeanor let on.

The gods shifted slightly, their attention flickering to Demeter and Persephone. But before either could answer, another voice cut through the room—commanding and resolute.

"He belongs to no one," Hera said, stepping forward from her place at the table.

The movement was subtle but deliberate, the soft rustle of her robes drawing every eye in the chamber. The gods, one by one, stepped back instinctively, creating space as the Queen of Olympus made her way toward the center of the room.

Hera's presence was regal, her every step measured as her gaze swept over you, Demeter, and Persephone. She stopped a few paces away, her piercing eyes lingering on you briefly before lifting to meet Demeter's.

Her voice, when she spoke, carried the weight of both authority and understanding. "But if we are to understand what he is, we must first look to how he came to be."

Demeter stiffened slightly, her arms tightening around you protectively. Persephone shifted closer, her green eyes narrowing, but neither spoke as Hera turned her attention fully to them.

"Your account, Demeter," Hera began, her tone calm but deliberate, "has made much clear. Persephone's twiglet, nurtured by your care and love, grew over the centuries into a tree unlike any other. A tree that bore not fruit, but him."

Her gaze softened briefly, glancing down at you before returning to Demeter. "It is a creation born from your longing, your grief, and your hope—yes. But there is more to it than that."

She turned slightly, her gaze sweeping the room, drawing the attention of every god present. "This was not just Demeter's work. Nor Persephone's alone."

The air in the chamber grew heavier, the divine energy palpable as Hera continued.

"The twiglet was crafted with sorrow and longing—emotions tied not just to Demeter but also to Persephone, who left behind the love she bore for her mother each time she returned to the Underworld."

Her words hung in the air, the weight of them pressing down on everyone. She turned, her sharp gaze settling briefly on Hades.

"And there lies the missing piece. Hades."

The Lord of the Underworld raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. He didn't speak, but the subtle shift in his posture suggested he was listening intently.

Hera gestured faintly toward him. "Each time Persephone left for the Underworld, her presence carried with it the essence of that place—the stillness, the cold, the quiet power of death itself. Those threads, however faint, mingled with Demeter's care and the natural magic of the earth."

Her voice softened, but her words remained steady. "The result was something none of us have ever seen before. A being born not from a single god's will, but from a convergence of love, grief, and opposing forces. Life and death. Growth and stillness."

The chamber was silent as her hypothesis settled over the room, the gods exchanging glances filled with both awe and unease.

Hermes, however, couldn't resist breaking the tension. He burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the stillness.

"Well, look at that!" he exclaimed, shooting a wide grin at Hades. "Welcome to the daddy club, Unc! Guess you've got yourself a kid now."

Hades' scowl deepened, his dark eyes narrowing dangerously as he shot Hermes a withering glare. The trickster god floated back slightly, still grinning. "Hey, I'm just saying," Hermes added, his tone light. "Technically, you did contribute."

The laughter faded as Hades shifted his gaze back to you. For a moment, his expression remained cold, but as his eyes lingered on your small, exhausted form in Demeter's arms, his features softened, ever so slightly.

Once again, he didn't speak, but the subtle change in his demeanor did not go unnoticed.

As the room settled into an uneasy silence, Athena stepped forward, her movements measured and purposeful. Her grey eyes gleamed with sharp interest, the gears of her mind clearly turning as she studied you from head to toe.

"This is fascinating," she began, her voice steady but edged with curiosity. "There hasn't been a birth like this since my own, eons ago."

Her words drew a ripple of murmurs from the other gods, a quiet acknowledgment of the rarity of such an occurrence. Athena's gaze remained fixed on you, her analytical tone carrying across the chamber.

"But the question we should be asking is what comes next. Will he ascend to godhood?"

Her question struck a chord, the weight of it reverberating through the hall.

"Athena raises a good point," Hermes chimed in, floating closer to the table. "He's far more powerful than a typical nature spirit. Honestly, he's already stronger than most minor deities."

He shrugged, his grin sly but genuine. "It's only right he gets the recognition he deserves."

Athena nodded in agreement, her tone thoughtful as she continued. "He is the personification of the seasons themselves. His power, even untrained, is immense. It's unlike anything we've seen. There are gods for concepts and elements far less grand—Harmonia for harmony, Iris for the rainbow, Nyx for the night..."

She turned her gaze to Zeus, her expression calm but expectant. "And yet... there is no god of the seasons."

Hermes floated higher, his wings fluttering as he clapped his hands. "Arty's right! I mean, Hera said it herself earlier—____'s got the essence of life and death, of growth and change. If that doesn't scream godhood, I don't know what does."

The gods murmured among themselves, the sound rising and falling like a tide as they exchanged glances. Even Posideon, who had remained quiet for most of the trial, nodded in agreement.

Zeus, however, remained silent. His golden gaze shifted between the gods before settling on you, his expression unreadable.

The tension in the room grew thick as the King of Olympus leaned back in his throne, his fingers drumming lightly against the armrest. He seemed to weigh the arguments in his mind, the crackle of faint lightning dancing around him as he considered his verdict.

Finally, Zeus spoke, his voice low but decisive. "Very well."

The room stilled, every eye turning to him.

"When he awakens, he will be recognized as a god. The seasons will have their personification, and his power will be bound to the balance of the world."

A ripple of energy moved through the room as his words settled, the finality of his decision washing over the gathered gods.

Zeus stood, his commanding presence filling the space. "The trial is dismissed. For now, ____ will remain here on Olympus under Hestia's care until he has recovered."

He paused, his gaze sweeping the room before returning to your form. "When the time comes, he will take his place among us. But until then..." He gestured toward the doors, the hum of divine energy dissipating. "This matter is concluded."

The gods began to stir, murmuring among themselves as they prepared to leave. Athena's sharp eyes lingered on you for a moment longer, her curiosity clearly unsatisfied, but she said nothing more as she returned to her seat.

Demeter adjusted her hold on you, her arms steady as she glanced toward Persephone. The two exchanged a brief, wordless look before turning to follow the others out of the hall.

As the heavy doors of the Council Hall began to close behind you, the weight of what had just been decided pressed against your chest. Even in your exhaustion, you couldn't ignore the enormity of the path that lay ahead.

[itsagrimm]

He Who Comes From under the Water

Chapter 8 - A Fishing Line of Memories

Monster!König X she/her afab Reader

CN fear of water, mentions of previous sexual assault, drowning, women drowning or cannibalising their abusers, blood, isolation, mentions of death, accidental bondage and rope play

Notes for better understanding at the bottom!

Beta-read by the amazing @queenquazar.

2.5k words

Masterlist

I am really unsure about this one since i am dragging both character and plot development with highspeed into something dramatic that I have planned. I really would like to have some feedback on this chapter.

Time moved on like it always had. You barely remembered how the summer days had gotten longer as it all flooded into one endless string of memories, closing in above you. Just like the sun rose and set, your mood and memories changed from the highest of highs to the lowest you have ever felt. Nothing was anchoring you anymore, leaving you lost and confused in a sea of impressions.

X

First, there was the Palace.

It was an odd sight as it grew in shape with frightening inevitability.

The lake in which the Palace was built was green, dark, and deep. Surrounded by a thick forest as if blanketing the palace to keep out the harsh outside world. In the middle of it was an island. It had become the centrepiece of the ‘Half-palace’ as König called it. Half in the water, half above it. Half for you. Half for him. Like an odd creature lifting its head out of the water, the Half-palace rose from the lake, reminding you more and more of König as time progressed and the high time of summer approaching with the beginning harvests, merriments, and festivals… And weddings.

The moment König showed you the spot of your new home, you had asked for a boat. There was no way you would be able to fight and crawl your way through the forest to live there. As much as you had gotten used to being guarded and accompanied, there was no way you would ask for help every time you wanted to leave the palace for a simple stroll. At least you hoped you would not have to, not wanting to exchange one cage for another.

Much to your relief, König had obliged without any further question. And so, you had ended up with a boat, built by your fiancé to ferry you to and from the palace as you pleased.

It had a fish head (of course) and little rows for you to move it. Not that you had to do much rowing. Often rusalkis picked you up quickly, accompanied you and curiously asking you about the life on land while pushing your boat where you needed to go as if you were a cousin that rarely visited who had stories to share from far off lands.

Yes, as you had started to move on the water more often you met them - beautiful women with long hair, laughing and playing in the waters and around it. They were human - sometimes. Sometimes they were terrifying goddesses, singing songs about eating unfaithful husbands and drowning rapists. You had shivered when you had heard them the first time, the images of violence invoking memories you weren’t entirely over with. But they laughed and assured you that as long as you were no cheating husband, they would not eat you, making you smile.

“Alright then,”you had replied once, “sounds like I should not become a cheating husband then.”

They had giggled, calling you to play in the water with them but you had only waved from afar. No matter how inviting the rusalkis might be, how nice the thought of finally having friends to talk and laugh with, they were in the water. And you couldn’t imagine anything more terrifying than getting submerged in the dark abyss, be it in play or not.

X

Second, there was the net incident with König.  

Once you had tried to fish after finding an old net left by your grandfather.

It had some holes, and you spend half a day trying to fix it with the Heron giving advice about fishing and the Fox sticking around in the hopes of stealing a few bites, should you be successful.

You weren’t successful.

Instead, you had gotten yourself tangled in the net, forcing the Heron to get König as the only one with suited hands and fingers to help you free yourself instead of tearing the newly mended net into pieces.

He had laughed at the sight of you.

“Did I catch myself a bride?” He teased and you felt yourself going from irritated to relieved knowing that König would save you.

“I might have done that for you, dear.” You wiggled, showing how you had gotten yourself stuck, “Can you help me?”

He bowed down and traced the knots and threats with his eyes before tilting his head in concentration.

“May I?” he asked, and you nodded, your lips suddenly too dry and brittle for words.

His fingers felt warm on your body, not clammy like when he passed you something right out of the waters or unpleasantly hot like steam for a burned pot.

It was as if his hands belonged on you as they glided over the curve of your waist, your hip, your legs. You lowered your gaze as he untangled you, unsure if you could not breathe from the tight net around your chest or because you forgot how to. König was so close and you wanted to lean into him, stay bound in his arms. The tight threats on your skin made you feel like drunk as he moved your body with his hands like he needed to.

It was over so quickly.

“Thank you,” You rasped coarsely and he turned away from you, leaving as quickly as he had arrived to continue his work on the Half-palace.

That night was the first time you had dreamed of him. A few blurry thoughts and dreamy images of König coming into the house instead of always guarding your sleep. You felt breathless and confused as you woke up and stared at the all-familiar ceiling and not König leaning over your bed, asking you to stay the night. With you.

I am doomed. You thought as you tried to ignore the heat and warmth in your chest and abdomen, burning persistently with dreamy temptations.

It will never happen. Get used to your maidenhood for it will stay. Just be a friend to him like he had become to you. Nothing more.

X

And like a friend you had continued - pushing and locking your desires away deep within you where you kept all those little other maiden secrets.

Instead, you tried to be like you had always been. A nice smile there, a joke here. Physical touch grew rare between you as you kept away from him, not daring to taste more of his warm skin and feeling like a thief every time you accidentally did.

Sometimes, it could not be avoided when he asked for your help.

“Why are you building along the island in the lake and not just on it?” You had asked as you helped König with his hair one day. It had become a nuisance to him while building and he had requested your help to comb and braid like you did with your hair to keep it out of the way.

That’s what friends do. They help each other out. This is normal.

He shrugged, sitting before you as you weaved.

“Don’t you like plants? I saw you grow them at your house. Thought you liked that.” He answered.

His words coaxed a smile out of your concentration pressed lips.

“Yes. I do like that,” You said. “Thank you very much.”

He nodded and you protested he shouldn’t move around so much or else you would not be able to braid his hair properly which had resulted in him groaning but stilling under your fingers.

When you were done with the braid, you tied it with a band you had knotted and dyed for him.

Little things friends do for each other.

You were finished with braiding his hair. Yet you did not want to be.

He was so close, his shoulders strong and that pleasant warmth like his hands had on your body as they leaned against your legs. It would have been easy to lean forward and embrace him as you bathed in his oh so warming presence. You could whisper that you liked him. That every new discovered piece of König was precious to you. That you trusted him and that you wanted more than what he had offered.

And then you did nothing.

Foolish girl. Foolish, foolish girl. You scolded yourself as you stepped away. He is just friendly. You are just a lucky girl marrying a man that became a friend. Don’t be a burden.

Embarrassment flooded you every time the memory arose despite your best attempts to suppress your amorous thoughts and turning to more pragmatic things.

You needed a new dress to marry in. Your old clothes were fine to work in or crawl around the forest. But it would not do for a wedding. More importantly, it would not do for your wedding. You might marry a man from the swamps and waters, but your mother would not stop haunting your dreams if you would not at least attempt to do your part in looking like a proper bride the day you married. So, you spent much time behind the loom spinning and weaving in the hopes of at least finishing something resembling a proper dress until your fingers bled, while you did not even attempt making a kokoshnik in time. I will be his show-off wife. Nothing else. I just need to look and play my part as well as I can - you reminded yourself as you worked on your dress, bloody and in misery while trying to not think much about your life after the wedding.

It was best to forget that part. Best to forget how you had giggled with friends talking about who had kissed whom. Best to forget how you had tasted lips before. None of that for you anymore. You would be a married woman soon – unharmed, unkissed, untouched.

What else could you ask for?

You would be a proper woman with a palace!

You stilled, the spill in your battered hands.

Oh my, you would be a proper woman with a palace!

The dread and horror of it washed over you as the realisation caught up to you. How were you supposed to run a palace on your own? And what was it like to be a proper woman? Suddenly you were hit with the grief of missing your mother who would have known. In your despair you wished for Baba Yaga back. At least Farah was alive and would have had answers for you.

But your mother was dead, and Farah was away. You did not know how to reach the lady of the chicken legged house, not even able to write a letter because you hadn’t mastered that yet except for a few scribbled words König had taught you until now.

No, you were on your own.

Desperation was another persistent memory of those hazy days, waved into your mind like the blood-red stains into your wedding dress.

X

But there was hope.

Every evening you walked with König, nearly swaying drunk from his attention, and talking about your days, wondering what the personal sacrifice was that König had to do to save you from potential drowning.

“Is it maybe some kind of pendant for me to wear? A pretty stone from a riverbed you kept or some magical jewellery that can protect me?” You wondered aloud as you slowly walked the little beach at the lake.

“It sounds more like you would like to wear something pretty.” König responded.

“Well, I wouldn’t object.”

He chuckled, a deep grumbled sound - like bubbles coming up from the bottom of a forgotten pond.

“I am sure I can dive and find you some pretty stones in the water if you want, Bride.” König said, “but I have none now for I never had use for them. So, I cannot sacrifice what I never possessed or cared for.”

You sighed.

“I suppose just something pretty out of the water for me to wear would have been just too easy, wouldn’t it?”

“We can try it out.” He suggested.

You eyed the lake you walked along, the Half-palace rising in the middle of it surrounded by water – so much deep water.

“No thank you,” You squeaked.

He hummed.

“I am sorry, you know.”

You glanced at König.

“I am sorry how we met and how I…” He tried.

You watched him as the mighty King of Everything from Under the Water searched for words. How he struggled with those dreadful and disrupting things in your odd coexistence.

“I am sorry for being so careless back then and nearly drowning you,” He finally said, “I regret how I, a Ruler from the Waters, instilled you with a fear of water. You will be the queen of a kingdom you not only cannot enter, but fear. And that is because of me. I am sorry.”

X

You stopped. And with it the memory, floating away like a piece of driftwood.

A part of you wished that you remembered what had happened that evening.

Maybe you said something funny or forgiving. Like that you did not blame him or that fear of water was well deserved considering unkempt men from the swamps lived there to snatch away women as brides. Maybe not. You wished you remembered anything, but your memory of those hazy days was slipping out of your fingers as you floated down through the water and the last bubbles of air escaped your screaming lungs.

This was it. Foolish girl. Foolish, foolish girl. You thought to yourself and closed your eyes. I should have said something. I should have been brave when I had the chance.

XXX

Cultural Context Notes

A kokoshnik is a crown worn by eastern european women* of often high status. It’s an old tradition of complex significance so who and why it is worn has changed and shifted since at least the 10th century. The Kokoshnik is part of the traditional Slavic Russian wear. However, it is not a ‘just Russian’-tradition and to say it’s just Russian plays into many cultural imperialist norms perpetrated by mostly Russian nationalists. I read this crown as an important symbol for female dignity and power, noticeably showing up in resistance and empowerment movements in the region. Since it is also a very traditional and romanticised headwear, the kokoshnik can be found among more right-wing, nationalist, and the local equivalent of the ‘trad wife’ movements as well. The kokoshnik has a wide variety of shapes, colours, and decorative elements on it, depending on the region and taste. Also, I personally don’t think that those who have no ties to the region and no interest in learning about us but just want to wear a kokoshnik as a pretty costume, should do so as this head wear is loaded with complex cultural codes. Eastern European heritage and culture is open, and everyone is welcome to participate, but it comes with the commitment to learn and be respectful as well.

At least among Russians it is rare for men to braid their hair, but we can do whatever we want here. This is the gender affirming masculinity hair braiding edition. Also, doing each other’s hair is something done mostly among family and very close friends.

The German word ‘Hochzeit’ = wedding is a compound word of the word high / highest and time. Historically many important festivities were ‘highest times’ or highly honoured celebrations but at some point the wedding as the ‘most highest time’ linguistically stayed. In at least Russian folk traditions, the time for engagements was in spring with the wedding then following in the high time of the year so the summer when lavish celebrations outdoors with good food and enough space for everyone was possible. Kind of leaving this here for a bit of folk practice background on why König and protagonist not really plan but just follow the cultural norm of marrying in the foreseeable future of this summer.

X

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[ashleftstick]

Mafia Ash

In the bustling city of New York, where the shadows whispered secrets only the night knew, a young girl named y/n tried to navigate the treacherous streets. At seventeen, she had seen more than her fair share of hard knocks, her eyes a little too old for her face, which bore the map of a life riddled with struggle and survival. She wore her fiery hair like a crown of defiance, a stark contrast to the dull grey of the buildings that loomed over her. y/n had learned to live in the shadows, to trust no one, and to rely only on her instincts.

Her latest gig was serving drinks at a high-class club that catered to the most affluent and notorious figures of the city. It was a place where deals were made in hushed tones and glances slid over the top of crystal flutes filled with the sweetest poisons. On a stage, shrouded in velvet and dim lights, a band played a soulful melody that seemed to echo the pain and ambition of every patron present. y/n moved through the crowd with the grace of a ghost, her tray balancing precariously on one hand while the other clutched her shaky heart, beating like a drum in her chest.

Tonight was different. Among the sea of faces, one pair of piercing blue eyes caught her attention—eyes that belonged to Ashton Irwin, the infamous mafia boss that even the cops whispered about in fear. His presence was palpable, a dark aura that seemed to suck the air out of the room, leaving a trail of silent respect in his wake. He sat at the back, a king surveying his kingdom, and y/n felt like a pawn dragged into a game she didn't understand.

Their eyes met and held, a silent conversation that sent a shiver down her spine. There was something about the way he looked at her, a hunger that was both terrifying and thrilling. He was handsome, if one could call the sharp angles of his face and the hard line of his jaw that, but it was the cold, calculating gleam in his eyes that truly made him captivating. y/n knew she should look away, but she found herself unable to break the gaze.

Ashton signaled her over with a crooked finger, a gesture that sent a flock of butterflies into a frenzy in her stomach. He was the last person she wanted to serve, but she had no choice. As she approached, her heart hammered so loud she was sure he could hear it. He took his drink from her tray, never once breaking eye contact. His thumb brushed against her hand, a touch so light it could have been a mistake, but she knew it was deliberate. His eyes narrowed, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "You're mine," he murmured, his voice low and seductive, the words a promise wrapped in a threat. And just like that, y/n's world was irrevocably changed.

In the days that followed, she felt his eyes on her even when he wasn't there. She'd catch glimpses of his men, lurking in the shadows of the alleyways she walked, their presence a constant reminder of who owned her now. The fear grew like a tumor, eating away at her resolve to resist him. The more she tried to ignore it, the stronger the pull grew. It was as if Ashton had branded her with his gaze, leaving an invisible mark that screamed of his possession.

One night, after a particularly grueling shift, she found herself standing in front of a sleek black town car, the engine purring like a beast waiting to devour its prey. The door opened, and a large, silent man gestured for her to get in. y/n knew better than to argue with fate—or the mafia. She slid into the plush leather seat, her heart racing as the car glided through the city streets, leaving her old life behind like a forgotten shadow.

The ride was endless, the anticipation a knot in her stomach that grew tighter with every passing minute. When the car finally stopped, she was ushered into a penthouse that reeked of power and money, the walls whispering of dark deeds and secrets. Ashton was there, waiting for her, his eyes never leaving hers as she was led into his opulent domain. He was dressed in a tailored suit that hugged his muscular frame, looking every inch the predator that he was.

"Welcome home," he said, his voice a velvet caress that sent a shiver down her spine. The word "home" sounded foreign on his lips, a concept she hadn't known since she'd been on her own. Yet, there was something in the way he said it that made her feel both safe and trapped.

y/n knew what was expected of her now—what Ashton had bought with his cold, hard cash. She was his property, a prize to be used and displayed. But as she looked into the abyss of his eyes, she couldn't help but wonder if there was something more, something hidden beneath the layers of his dominance. Was there a spark of humanity, or was she just another pawn in his twisted game of power and control? Either way, she was in too deep to back out now.

The penthouse was a labyrinth of opulence, with gleaming marble floors and windows that offered a panoramic view of the city she had once called her playground. The air was thick with the scent of expensive cologne and the faint hint of something else, something that made her skin crawl—fear. But amidst the grandeur, there was a surprising warmth to the space, a sense of comfort that she hadn't anticipated in a place owned by a man like Ashton.

He led her to a room, and for a moment, she allowed herself to hope that it might be a place of refuge, a sanctuary from the world outside. But as the door clicked shut behind her, she realized it was nothing more than a gilded cage, a prison dressed in silk and velvet. She felt his gaze on her as she surveyed her new surroundings, a mix of trepidation and anger simmering beneath her skin.

Ashton leaned against the doorframe, watching her with a curious expression. "Take a seat," he said, his tone a command rather than a request. y/n perched on the edge of the bed, her legs trembling slightly. He approached her, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the cavernous room. He reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his touch surprisingly gentle. "You're safe here," he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. "But remember, you belong to me now."

The weight of his words settled over her like a shroud, suffocating and heavy. Yet, there was a strange comfort in his claim, a perverse sense of protection that she hadn't felt in years. He was dangerous, yes, but he was also the one person in this world that had chosen her, that had seen something in her that no one else had. And as much as she hated to admit it, she found herself craving the certainty that came with being owned by a man as powerful as Ashton Irwin.

He stepped closer, his hand tracing a line down her neck to her shoulder. "You're mine," he repeated, his voice a low growl that sent a thrill through her body. "Mine to protect, mine to pleasure, and mine to punish." y/n's breath hitched in her throat as she felt the beginnings of a heady submission. It was wrong, she knew that, but she couldn't fight the allure of his dominance. It was like a siren's call, luring her into a world she never knew she wanted.

His hand slid further down, coming to rest on the bare skin above her collarbone. His thumb stroked the pulse point there, and she couldn't help but lean into his touch. His eyes searched hers, looking for something—permission, maybe. And before she could think better of it, she nodded, a silent agreement to the terms she didn't fully understand.

With that single gesture, y/n felt a shift in the air. The tension that had been building since the moment she'd walked into the club snapped, and she was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Ashton's lips found hers, and she melted into the kiss, letting him consume her in a dance of power and passion. It was a dangerous dance, one that could lead to her destruction, but in that moment, she didn't care.

The kiss grew more demanding, his hands exploring her body with a possessiveness that both terrified and excited her. y/n's heart raced, her mind swirling with a tornado of emotions—fear, anger, desire, and a hint of something she dared not name. But as his touch grew more intimate, she felt a strange sense of belonging, as if she'd been made for this moment, for this man.

Ashton pulled away, leaving her gasping for air. "Good," he said, a smirk playing on his lips. "Now, let's begin your education." And with that, y/n knew she was about to embark on a journey she never could have imagined, a journey into the dark, seductive world of Ashton Irwin, where the only rule was his will—and the only escape was through his cold, unyielding embrace.

The first act of disobedience came a week later. y/n had been given a simple task—to sit quietly in the corner during one of Ashton's meetings with his men. But as the minutes ticked by and the tension in the room grew, she found her curiosity piqued by the whispers of their conversations. She leaned in ever so slightly, trying to make out the words that were not meant for her ears. A mistake that would not go unnoticed.

Ashton's hand shot out like a snake, gripping her chin and forcing her to meet his gaze. "What did I tell you?" he snarled, his eyes blazing with fury. The room fell silent, all eyes on the girl who had dared to defy the mafia boss. y/n's heart pounded in her chest, but she held his gaze, a spark of rebellion flickering in her own eyes.

He stood, his chair scraping against the floor like a gunshot. "You will learn your place," he said, his voice icy and controlled. He dragged her out of the room, his grip tight enough to bruise. y/n's eyes widened as he led her to a space she hadn't seen before, a dimly lit chamber with a single chair in the center, surrounded by various instruments that looked more suited to a torture chamber than a penthouse.

He sat her down, his hands firm and unyielding. "You will learn to obey," he murmured, his voice a dark promise. "And if I have to break you to do it, so be it." His hand raised, and she braced herself for the pain she knew was coming. The first strike came swift and sharp across her cheek, the sound echoing through the room. She gasped, tears springing to her eyes, but she didn't look away. There was something in his gaze that told her this was just the beginning.

He continued, his strikes methodical and precise, each one a lesson in obedience and pain. She felt the sting across her skin, the burn as it blossomed into bruises. But with every hit, she felt a strange sense of exhilaration, a thrill that danced with the agony. It was a dance of dominance and submission, and she was the unwilling pupil learning the steps.

Through the haze of pain, she heard his voice, a constant drone in her ear. "You will not disobey me," he said, his hand never faltering. "You will submit to me in all things." And as the last of her resistance crumbled, she realized that she wanted to. She wanted to give in to the darkness that he offered, to be consumed by the fire of his dominance.

Finally, he stopped, his breathing heavy, his eyes alight with a fierce satisfaction. y/n's body was a canvas of pain, but she felt alive in a way she hadn't in years. "Do you understand?" he asked, his voice low and rough. She nodded, the fight draining from her like sand through an hourglass. "Say it," he demanded, his hand still holding her chin.

"I understand," she whispered, the words a surrender. "I'm yours, Ashton." And in that moment, she truly was. The fear had transformed into something else, a desperate need to please him, to be the one he sought to control.

He leaned down, his lips capturing hers in a brutal kiss that left her gasping for breath. His hands roamed over her body, claiming it once more, and she didn't fight him. Instead, she melted into him, her body responding to his touch like it had been made for this purpose. The line between pain and pleasure had blurred, and she was lost in the storm of his dominance.

As he pulled away, she felt a strange sense of peace settle over her. The world had narrowed to just the two of them, a twisted dance of power and submission that she didn't want to escape. Ashton's eyes searched hers, looking for something, and she knew she had given it to him. Her complete and utter surrender.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm to her bruised soul. He took her hand and led her back to their shared bed, his touch gentle now, almost tender. y/n knew that she had crossed a line, that there was no going back. But as she lay beside him, his arms wrapped around her protectively, she found a strange comfort in the aftermath of the storm.

The following days were a whirlwind of passionate exchanges and subtle power plays. Each encounter grew more intense, more intimate, as Ashton pushed her boundaries and she tested his limits. His grip on her was unyielding, a constant reminder that she was his to command. Yet, within the confines of his dominance, she discovered an unexpected freedom.

One evening, as the city lights danced on the horizon, y/n stood before Ashton, her body trembling with a mix of fear and anticipation. He had instructed her to undress and kneel before him, and she had complied without question. His eyes raked over her, a silent challenge that sent a jolt of electricity through her. "You're mine," he said, his voice a low growl that resonated deep within her.

The struggle grew more heated, their bodies tangling in a dance of desire and domination. y/n found that she craved his touch, the way he claimed her, the way he made her feel both powerful and powerless. Each time he punished her for an infraction, no matter how small, she felt a thrill that grew into a deep, dark ache. And when he took her, it was with a ferocity that she matched with her own burgeoning fire.

Their encounters became ritualistic, a silent war waged on the battlefield of pleasure. Ashton would demand, and y/n would give, each surrender a victory and a defeat wrapped into one. But she was learning, adapting to his games, finding ways to push back, to challenge his control without overstepping the invisible line.

One night, she took the initiative, her eyes gleaming with a rebellious spark. She approached him slowly, her hips swaying with the rhythm of a siren's call. His gaze followed her every move, his pupils dilating with desire. Without a word, she straddled his lap, her hands on his shoulders, her breath warm against his neck. He stiffened, surprised but not unwilling.

Their eyes met, and she saw the challenge in his gaze. But she didn't back down. Instead, she leaned in and whispered, "Teach me." It was a dare, a declaration of war, and she knew it. The air crackled with tension as she waited for his response.

Ashton's grip on her hips tightened, his thumbs tracing circles that made her skin burn. "You want to play?" he asked, his voice a dark promise. She nodded, her heart racing with excitement. And so, the game began anew, the rules ever-shifting in the tapestry of their twisted relationship.

Each night brought new lessons in submission, new battles to be won and lost. And with each victory, y/n felt the chains that bound her to him tighten, the invisible links forged from passion and pain. But she also felt something else—a connection, a bond that went beyond the physical.

As the weeks turned to months, y/n found herself torn between her need to rebel and her desperate craving for Ashton's dominance. She had become addicted to the high of their power play, the exhilaration of never knowing where the line between punishment and pleasure lay. It was a dangerous game, one that could easily consume her, but she couldn't bring herself to walk away.

Their dynamic grew more complex, the lines between captor and captive blurring until she wasn't sure who was truly in control. But she knew that she was in too deep to escape now. The darkness in Ashton's eyes had become a mirror, reflecting back the part of her she had buried deep, the part that craved the very things she feared most.

And so, she embraced it, letting the fire of her rebellious spirit meld with the icy steel of his dominance. They were two halves of a whole, locked in a passionate battle that neither could win—and neither wanted to lose. Together, they danced on the razor's edge, balancing the fine line between love and obsession.

Their nights were a tumultuous symphony of moans and whispers, of flesh against flesh and hearts beating in sync. y/n knew that she was changing, that she was becoming something more than she had ever been. And as she looked into the abyss of Ashton's eyes, she realized that he was changing too, that their twisted dance was etching lines into the very fabric of their beings.

One evening, the storm within them grew too great to be contained. They collided in a fiery embrace, their teeth clashing as they kissed, each struggling for dominance. His hands were everywhere, claiming her with a desperation that bordered on violence. She met him with equal ferocity, her nails digging into his back as she pulled him closer.

Their love-making was raw, an unbridled passion that left no room for gentleness. Ashton's grip on her hips was punishing, his thrusts deep and demanding. y/n cried out, her body a battleground of pleasure and pain, each sensation heightening the other until she couldn't tell where one began and the other ended. He took her to the edge and held her there, his eyes never leaving hers, a silent challenge that she couldn't refuse.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, her heels digging into his back as she urged him deeper, her body a living flame that only his touch could quench. His teeth sank into her shoulder, and she screamed his name, the sound a declaration of war and surrender all at once. They moved together in a rhythm that was as old as time itself, a dance of dominance and submission that had become the very essence of their existence.

In the aftermath, their bodies entwined and slick with sweat, they lay panting on the rumpled bed, their hearts hammering against each other's chests. The air was thick with the scent of sex and power, a heady mix that intoxicated them both. y/n felt the tremors of his muscles beneath her, the aftershocks of their shared climax, and she knew that she was irrevocably his.

Their relationship grew more intense, a tapestry of light and dark that wove together to form a bond that neither could break. They knew each other's every weakness, every desire, and they used it against one another in their endless game of cat and mouse. Yet, amidst the chaos, there was a strange peace, a sense of belonging that she had never felt before.

But the shadows of their pasts lurked just outside the penthouse walls, waiting for their chance to slip in and tear them apart. y/n's old life was a ghost that haunted her dreams, whispering of a freedom she had lost. And Ashton had enemies, men who would stop at nothing to see him fall. They were a match made in hell, two souls dancing on the precipice of disaster.

One night, the storm outside mirrored the tempest within the penthouse. Rain lashed against the windows, a mournful wail that seemed to echo their tumultuous love. Ashton held her tightly, his arms a cage of warmth and protection. But she knew that the outside world would not be kept at bay forever. The time was coming when they would have to face the demons that lurked in the shadows—together or apart.

y/n looked up at him, her eyes filled with a fierce determination. "Whatever happens," she whispered, "I'm with you." His grip tightened, his gaze dark and unreadable. "Forever," he murmured, and she knew that she had just made a deal with the devil himself.

The days passed in a blur of stolen moments and whispered secrets. Ashton taught her the art of power, the subtleties of control, and she absorbed his knowledge like a sponge, eager to be his equal. But she also saw the toll it took on him, the weight of his empire a burden that he bore alone.

One morning, she found him standing by the window, the city sprawling below like a treasure map of sins and secrets. His eyes were distant, his mind a million miles away. She approached him, her hand tentative on his shoulder. "What is it?" she asked, her voice soft.

He turned to her, his expression haunted. "We can't stay here," he said, his voice tight with tension. "It's not safe." The words hung in the air, heavy with the promise of change, of danger lurking just around the corner.

y/n's heart skipped a beat, but she didn't flinch. "Where will we go?" she asked, her voice steady despite the fear coiling in her stomach.

"Somewhere they can't find us," Ashton replied, his eyes never leaving hers. He took her hand, and she could feel the tension coiled in his grip. "Pack your things. We leave tonight."

The hours ticked by with agonizing slowness, each minute a reminder of the impending danger. As the sun set and the city transformed into a neon jungle, Ashton led her to the bedroom. The air was thick with the anticipation of a storm, and she could feel the electricity crackling between them. He turned to her, his eyes blazing with a hunger that sent a shiver down her spine. "One last time," he murmured, and she knew what he meant. One last time before the world came crashing down around them.

Their clothes fell away in a frenzy, a dance of desperation that left them both breathless. His hands were everywhere, claiming her as if she were the last piece of himself he had left to lose. They tumbled onto the bed, their bodies a tangle of limbs and need. His kisses were bruising, his touch demanding as he reclaimed her once more. y/n met his ferocity with her own, her nails raking down his back, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

Their lovemaking was a battle of wills, a fierce struggle for dominance that neither could win. Each thrust was a declaration of ownership, a silent promise that he would never let her go. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, her body arching to meet his. The room was filled with the sounds of their passion, the slap of skin against skin echoing in the silence.

As they reached the peak, the storm outside broke, the thunder a cacophony that drowned out their cries. They clung to each other, their hearts racing in time with the rain, the lightning flashes casting them in stark relief. In that moment, she knew she would follow him anywhere, into any darkness that awaited them. They were bound now, linked by a chain of desire and danger that was unbreakable.

When it was over, they lay tangled together, their breaths ragged and uneven. The storm had passed, leaving the city washed clean and gleaming. Ashton held her close, his arms a warm cocoon that she never wanted to leave. But she knew that this was just the calm before the storm, a brief reprieve from the chaos that was to come.

They dressed in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. y/n packed her meager belongings, her heart heavy with a mix of fear and excitement. This was the life she had chosen, the path she had taken with open eyes. And as she zipped up her bag and turned to face Ashton, she knew that she would walk it with him, come hell or high water.

As they descended the stairs, the penthouse felt like a prison she was both desperate to escape and terrified to leave behind. The walls had held their secrets, their battles, and their love. But it was time to move on, to face whatever the world had in store for them.

The car was waiting, the engine purring like a living beast. As they slid into the backseat, y/n felt the finality of their departure. Ashton's hand found hers, his grip reassuring. "We'll be okay," he said, but she could hear the doubt in his voice.

The city streets blurred together as they drove through the night, the neon lights a kaleidoscope of colors that painted the windows of the town car. They didn't speak, the weight of their unspoken fears too great to be voiced. But as they left the city behind, the horizon opening up before them like a gaping maw, she knew that their future was a blank page, ready to be written in the ink of their shared destiny.

And so, they ventured into the unknown, two lost souls bound by a love that was as dark as the night and as fierce as the storm that had brought them together. They had no map, no compass, just the unyielding promise of each other's hearts and the shadow of Ashton's empire looming over them.

[vespaer77]

Snippet Sunday

Thanks for the tag @waterdeep-weavemoss ! You got it! Tagging @mumms-the-word @alls-fair-in-pride-and-prejudice @alpydk @lanafofana @this-is-seer @dr-demi-bee @miradelletarot

Snippet from the next chapter of I'll Tell You in a Song which can be read here :

Shayla Moonsong hadn't run this hard in what felt like a very long time. Yet only two years ago, so much of her life was spent running.

Running after hags fleeing an honest fight, or chasing hyenas before they could summon packs of gnolls, or leaping to miss a Harper before he stepped into a ravenous, consuming darkness. Or escaping the blast radius of an exploding fireworks factory. Oh, especially that one. Even in her mind's eye, as her calves ached and her lungs burned, she could still see him way up there on the peak of that abandoned house across the street, feet planted and hips square, robes flapping and arms twirling, drawing arcane figures and composing magic the way she would the chorus of a song. Demonstrating the full mastery of his craft. The memory was as bright as the fire in his eyes, alight with an incendiary glow.

The human flame thrower.

Gale of Waterdeep.

And now she was running after him.

The instant she crashed through the front door of the theater she doubled over, gulping for air as her hands gripped her quivering knees. It was there that she met those eyes once more, for the first time in two years.

She expected to see something alien in them, some change in the man that had occurred in her absence. She was prepared to face the longevity of her departure from him, and the distance she'd always maintained from him. She was prepared to face the confusion, or even revulsion, that she certainly deserved to earn from him, given how she'd made the inauspicious choice to murder him on a stage, right before those very eyes. It was the least of what she deserved.

But she wasn't prepared to face the familiarity. She wasn't prepared at all for the swell of their shared story, and how it spilled from those eyes, so soft and dark and deep. Fathomless, like the siren call of an endless sea. How one could easily drown in them. How one could want to.

Those eyes locked with hers the instant she opened the front door. They were filled with the same wonder at the serendipity of having been rescued from a stone. The same stark solemnity he'd cast over them when he'd held her hand to his heart and told her the tale of the Netherese orb in his chest. The same reluctance to trust, outweighed by the need to admit he needed her help.

The same loneliness he'd hidden when he'd tried to convince her that the image of Mystra held privately in his hand was merely an incantation he was practicing.

The same resolute melancholy and grace, when he'd accepted the terrible fate that Elminster had bestowed upon him.

The same bravery and fear, when he'd believed that fate had come to pass so quickly, in the bowels of an illithid colony buried beneath Moonrise Towers.

But it was the betrayal that stole the air from her lungs, shining through those eyes from the basement of Sorcerous Sundries. Raw with desperate hurt that, after all their time together, through what little emotion was permitted to pass beyond the veil of an unstable orb, through what few needs and wishes he didn't have to obfuscate, she could still understand so little of his perspective. That the Crown of Karsus was his only gambit toward survival. How she made it unequivocally known that his pursuit of it would still have such a steep cost.

And it would cost him everything.

What little he had left.

[evolutionsvoid]

For years, there has been debate and wondering about what truly is down there in the abyss. It is the never ending topic amongst sea folk, and the ceaseless, fruitless endeavor of researchers and philosophers. There is a world down there, no doubt, and the creatures down there share a familiarity with us that we find strange and unsettling. From the odd fish caught in nets, to the words of wisdom granted by the aquatic messengers that come to our shores, we know there is a faith below. What else can explain the Bishops and Monks? How else would you describe the carved trinkets of ambergris and whale bone, whose visage is alien yet exudes an aura of reverence? And then there are the visions, which some can easily cast aside as odd dreams or fits of fearful hallucination, but so many of these glimpses share similarities and the way the seers speak of it all shows that there is something more than mere imagination.

The abyss has a religion, it has its beliefs. So much so that there are even some folk up here on dry land who seek its teachings and wisdom. Yet, there is little in physical proof to show what this faith entails, what do they believe in, what do they preach? At night, upon the calm ocean, sounds of prayer and faithful chanting can be heard emanating from the deep, but these words hold no meaning to us. Even the script carved into the ambergris totems that have been collected elude translation, so there is much left as a mystery. However, there is something to their faith that is known, and cannot be denied. A figure that hangs above it all, whom we must assume all these prayers and offerings go to. Though no one has ever seen her in the flesh, the many carvings and artifacts that bear her visage cannot be ignored. And when those who come in contact with the abyss dream, they speak of her flowing form drifting through the endless blue void. To the beings that live down in the bowels of the ocean, she is their god. A figure of the abyss, of life and death, and the endless cycle that all living things follow: she is the Mother of Snow.

From glimpses in visions and study of found carvings, her body is shaped by death and decay. Flesh, bones, scales and rot are a part of her form, and so are the ravenous scavengers that feed upon them. She is born from the death of leviathans, and congealed of the countless piscines that perish in the vast depths. Yet, her deathly form shows no aggression, no malice. Her carvings show a reverent nature, slow and delicate. When they dream of her, they see her drift almost lifelessly through the void, like a floating corpse destined to be devoured. And to her followers, that is what she offers in her infinite kindness. From her body drifts the ceaseless marine snow that nourishes the world below. Her flesh is in a constant state of rot and decay, sloughing off in crumbling flakes that rain down upon her followers. Those who pray to her rejoice in her offerings, singing out in praises as they collect the manna from the sky. To the creatures of the abyss, life only exists because of their divine Mother of Snow.

The gentle drifting of rotted flakes are not the only things she bestows upon the faithful, as she can grant great bounties and feasts at times. Dead fish and ravaged corpses can fall from her hand down below, but the real miracles come when she beckons to the dying leviathans. It is said that when one of these great beasts of the sea is on their death bed, they will hear her song. She sings to those who are doomed and dying, calling upon them to follow her to the cycle beyond. The leviathans will answer, and seek out the kind Mother. Their journey ends inevitably with death, but it is believed that their passing is done in the exact spot where their corpses may fall upon the billowing cathedrals below. From their death comes a great feast, a great bounty of nutrients that shall feed the people of the deep for a good long time. They sing, pray and give thanks for the food, all while happily holding the knowledge that the time will come when their flesh will do the same. This is the nature of the cycle, where death feeds life, and life needs death. She is the embodiment of this, and her followers preach it to all who will hear.

While the Church is lenient on those who ascend from the abyss, able to use their similar acts of worship as evidence that the Church and its golden Ichor is truly divine, they do not speak much of the Mother. For all is fine and acceptable as long as their idol is held the highest, but the presence of this goddess challenges their position. In some sects, they refuse to acknowledge her existence, pretending it is all some silly sailor's story. Others claim that she is more symbolic of the offerings that fall from the hands of those above, where "foolish" abyssal beasts mistake the scraps of humanity as something godly. At worst, strict members of the Church see her as a blasphemous symbol, one that denies golden Ichor and the true gods that fall from the skies. Her song and offerings are twisted into malicious an deceptive things, luring people to their death. There are certainly a fair share of land-based depictions that show her as something wicked and vile. However, this vision of the Mother is often only held by those who stay far from the sea, never meeting its shores or sailing upon its waves. For the sea folk who live their entire lives near and upon the waters, they hold a different belief that they are sure to keep secret from the Church.

Spend enough time on the vast expanse of the sea, and you will learn some things that cannot be explained on land. When you rest upon the blackened waters at night, rocked to sleep by the gentle undulations of the waves, things may come to your dreams. Even those who do not make their living on the oceans can experience these odd visions, often triggered by exposure to its benthic artifacts and strange creations. Those who hold these carved tokens or cling to weapons made by abyssal hands can find themselves dreaming of an endless watery void, and life humming far down in its depths. It is through these strange dreams we have learned what we have about this strange underwater world, and it is also how we have seen the Mother of Snow, or more so, felt her.

There are no writings, no explanations to what she is and what she wants, and these dreams never have words to them. The abyssal creatures will chant and pray in tongues unknown, and those visited by the Mother will find her to either be silent or emitting her gentle song. She will give no words, no wisdom, so we do not know her intent, yet all who are visited by her are certain of what she is. They speak of kindness, of a serene calm that washes over them in these dream depths. They find peace in her presence, a feeling that often sends the speaker into tears merely thinking about. She says nothing, but they know of her love, there is no denying it. Her mere visage settles all fears and unease, and her song brings something that words fail to describe. It is a gentle and calming tune, leaving no doubt in why the leviathans follow her when the end comes. They find comfort in these final moments, an understanding that this shall end but bring forth something miraculous. Death will bring blessings to others, and your own essence shall continue on into the cycle, guided by her song and motherly presence. The beasts of the sea know this peace, and some who have encountered death upon the ocean have witnessed it too. When a ship is lost at sea, there are many horrid ways to die, but some who have been rescued have spoken of strange times where their pains and fears vanish. Of fellow sailors smiling as they sunk below the waves, of times where they let go of their rafts and supports so that they may be taken by the sea without fear. A famed tale speaks of rescuers pulling a survivor from a sunken ship, where all hands had been lost save for one. Despite this salvation, the lost man refused their aid and fought as they pulled him on board. He made attempts to throw himself back into the sea, weeping and begging to join the others. He heard her song and felt her arms, and he wanted nothing more than to find that peace.

In most of the visions and dreams, the Mother of Snow is silent, drifting about with her flesh and form billowing in the current. It is said that if you see her, than blessings are sure to follow, raining down upon you like her own rotting gift. However, in the rare instances you hear her song, the sea folk would say that your time is coming. The end is near and she is visiting you to give you peace before it happens. Do not be scared, do not fight it. It is simply meant to be, with no cruelty or hate attached. On the ships, those who share the fact they have heard her will often gain a reverence from the crew, who will not fight them if they give an odd request. They will nod their heads and let them be, knowing that their end will soon be here. However, there will certainly be some subtle distance kept between you and the rest of the crew, who want to be sure that they too don't get swept up in your inevitable demise.

While the Church tears down her image and claims her a false idol, there are plenty of whispers about the Mother of Snow and our own gods. The humors and Godly Fluids that feed our world fall from the sky, carried to us by the corpses of the divine. And yet down below, another god sheds her own flesh to feed her followers. If this is how they thrive, then how are we any different? We all pray to the heavens for manna to rain down, for divine death that may bring forth life. We bow before great corpses, and feed upon our deities with reverence and respect. We both look to the skies and hope, wondering what hangs so impossibly high above our own heads. Are we truly separate in our ways? Are these not our fellow brothers and sisters in faith? Or perhaps, something more than we are willing to admit?

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

"Mother of Snow"

Here is a remake of an old piece of mine, a concept that I have always enjoyed: the Mother of Snow. Once I got going with FOI, I knew she would fit right in! Even then, I feel like she would fit in with all my worlds. I am really happy with how she turned out, which is good, because DEAR GOD SO MANY FISH TO DRAW!

[valyalyon]

1 Azure Amore

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SEA MASTER LIST OR #LYONSEA

DIVIDERS

CW: MC heat exposure/saved by paramedic, public smut. MDNI. 4K Words.

These blue beaches remind me of my home, freedom, and him… That Blue Man.

If someone were to ask Calliope how she came to be, she’d tell you she didn’t remember, just like every other time. Calliope’s earliest memories were of that beach in Mableshore.

The waves there were always a little intense, and few surfers would stay when the water would get worse.

Calliope wore a little bikini she didn’t remember purchasing, it was scarlet red. She sat under the shade of an umbrella, holding her volleyball and waiting for the weather to clear.

Her skin had darkened a bit in the coastal sun, but it was still Calliope. Her hair no longer blonde, but now a ginger red… how much time had passed since killing Arthur, she was unsure of.

In the distance, she saw a surfer still riding the waves. The water was slightly high at the time, with the surfer still seemingly gliding through it effortlessly.

He relaxed a bit as he turned his board towards the shore, trying to ride it standing up along the rough waves for as long as possible. He held it for several feet, ultimately settling down onto the board and finishing his swim to shore.

Calliope turned her eyes away from the man and took some fruit out of a container, having some for herself. She had a cube of watermelon, followed by a grape and a strawberry.

Her green eyes scanned the beach after a few minutes, seeing if the waves and winds had calmed down enough to play volleyball.

It looked peaceful enough, so she stood. Calliope patted as much sand off her body as possible, and made her way along the beach to the net.

Since she was by herself, she was planning on just practicing her serves. She wanted to enjoy her new life and just tried to distract herself. Remembering what she did to Arthur was hard.

Still, the memories of all the men lived on. Calliope suffered from endless nightmares, and whimsical dreams, consistently. She couldn’t let go of her love for them.

While she had chosen to walk away from Lazarus out of fear, she had never stopped loving him. Now, she was the furthest she’d ever been from his environment and she wondered if he could feel that distance.

The last time she saw Lazarus was inside Cain’s penthouse. He was promising to find her again, saying he loved her. How was he feeling now? And why could she never stop thinking of him?

And Jasper… All she hoped was that if Jasper was right, if there was a God — she hoped that he had asked for forgiveness in his final moments and that he wasn’t really stuck in Purgatory like she had seen when Arthur tried to drown her.

Calliope wished for him to have entered Heaven, where he could just relax for once and live like he wanted. Hell was what the man spoke of fearing in life, so she hoped he wouldn’t have to face disappointment in death.

Even if sometimes he did deserve it.

“Hey!” A man’s voice shouted, forcing Calliope out of her recollections and lackluster volleyball practice, “I’m an EMT. Are you alright?”

She blinked, not sure of what he meant. Then, she felt her face and it was hot to the touch. Her skin was burning, “sorry… I didn’t notice…”

As she said this, she turned to see the man. He was much taller than her, with tanned skin, crystal blue eyes, and black hair. The dark beach, the palm trees, and the cloudy blue sky were his home.

But, everything started to spin for Calliope, and she saw the world begin to darken, her head felt heavy. All she heard as she passed out was the man’s voice, calling out as he caught her, “Ma’am!”

The man moved her into the shade, where he quickly worked on getting her to wake back up. He fanned her and continued to check her pulse through her neck, speaking to her, “I’ve got you, okay? Wake up, I’m here for you…”

Her face was starting to go back to her normal color, the red beginning to fade. Slowly, Calliope shifted and moaned as her eyes opened.

She saw the man’s blue eyes first, and she thought they were the sky.

Her heart raced as she came back, as his face became clearer in her view. His dark hair was swept to the side, his clear blue eyes looked at her only with concern, “hi there, how do you feel?”

Her green eyes swelled with tears, “I’m sorry, that’s so embarrassing, I didn’t realize how hot I was getting.”

He looked taken aback and quickly shook his head, “no, don’t apologize. There were clouds on you most of the time, but towards the end they had moved. You turned and faced me after a serve, your face was blood red so I knew I had to check on you.”

“Thank you for checking on me,” she told him, honestly, as the tears fell without her permission. She went to wipe them off, but her arms were shaky and weak.

The man’s fingers were on her cheeks, and he rubbed the tears away slightly, looking into her eyes, “don’t cry… I’m Beau Emerson, what’s your name?”

He pulled his hands away as she responded, “Calliope Marlowe, nice to meet you, Beau…”

Beau thought she looked familiar, but it was her voice and eyes that gave it away for him. She had been Ember Conrad and now she was Calliope Marlowe, what a chameleon.

The man encouraged Calliope to have some more of her fruits, picking the container up for her and holding it out, “I can hold it while you eat, your hands are still a little shaky.”

Calliope nodded her head, picking some strawberry pieces, eating those, then moving onto some watermelon. She finished snacking on a few pieces of grapes, “have whatever you want, too, Beau.”

Beau grabbed some grapes too, ate them, then reached for some strawberry at the same time as Calliope, “sorry, you have it, you need it more than me.”

Calliope thanked him, and ate the strawberry.

Beau had some more pieces of watermelon, and started to ask her questions. He didn’t bombard her, but they went back and forth for several hours as the day got darker.

Calliope realized pretty early on that this was the same paramedic from Carcos, but she couldn’t lie to herself. She was attracted to him, and the more they talked, the more her mind felt alive again.

“So, you were born on the island of Olahia,” his clear blue eyes expressed his surprise, and he smiled at her, “I’ve heard its gorgeous but never gotten to meet someone from there.”

“I haven’t been back in a long time, though,” Calliope commented, lowering her eyes and rubbing her legs in an effort to soothe herself, “Where are you from, Beau?”

“Sunwoods… have you ever heard of it?” the man looked out at the beach, making note in his mind of the time and the approaching darkness.

“Yeah, actually,” the girl nodded her head and looked up at Beau, trying to figure out if she had seen him when she was there but not remembering, “why did you leave Sunwoods?”

“I would call it family conflict… If you ask my parents, I’m sure they’ll have another story,” the man laughed slightly then met Calliope’s green eyes, and stopped to smile at her.

The young woman felt her skin burning and her heart racing, so she turned her eyes away from him and looked at the cove-like beach of little Mableshore, “this is a good place to run away to.”

The ocean was a dark blue, but Beau’s eyes were baby blue even as the darkness of night began to settle around them.

The man looked around, then back at her, “I’m sorry, it’s so dark. I can walk you back to your place.”

Calliope nodded her head, preparing herself to stand just as Beau got back on his feet. He looked down at her and reached his hand out to her.

For a moment, she froze staring at his hand, but when she looked in his face she saw a soft smile and the kindest eyes, “I got you, I’m here.”

Her skin felt like it was burning up again. She reached her hand up to his, her hand dwarfed in his, and he pulled her to her feet easily.

He took his time to get her up, though, like he didn’t want to startle her head.

When she finally stood up beside him, she was a foot shorter than him. Calliope’s eyes went up to Beau’s and he looked down at her as a smile stayed on his face.

His smile was so warm, but he pulled his hand away from her when he got her to her feet, “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable in anyway, Calliope. I’ll walk with you and leave when you get to your place.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” the girl smiled at him but dropped her eyes to remember the trail back to her apartment.

Before long, the two were walking along the path back into the main part of Mableshore. Half the buildings were houses along one side of the beach, and the other were streets of wall-to-wall apartment homes.

Beau would ask her questions about herself, telling her more about himself as well, and walked beside her like an ominous message to strange men.

He made her feel comfortable and seen, in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. Her attraction for him was building, with Calliope feeling as if she had to have him.

Yet, she wondered if he was attracted to her or if he was only being nice.

She looked at him for a moment as they walked, and he made eye contact with her, smiling and asking her, “so if you could go anywhere in the world do you think it would be back home to Olahia?”

Calliope was so surprised, but she saw the beaches of her island in his eyes and she blushed as she felt herself begin to flirt, “your eyes make me feel like I’m there.”

“Damn, yeah… I’d go back in time and used that on you earlier,” Beau felt like this was all so much better than he could have asked for, he looked into her green eyes and smiled differently than before.

Before, his smile was sweet. It wasn’t malicious or evil now, but it was almost hungry and needy.

He dropped his eyes, catching himself as he got out of hand, “I can’t think of anyway to be as smooth as you, just know I’m into you but I know this is your world.”

“My world?” Calliope raised her eyebrows and looked up at Beau as she crossed her arms, “care to elaborate?”

“I’m just saying I won’t be disrespecting you,” Beau explained, but his eyes ran along her face and focused on her eyes, “I like just being around you.”

The girl blushed and decided she had enough of playing with him. She reached up, clutching his loose shirt in her hands, pulling him close and standing on her toes.

She pressed her lips to his.

Beau closed his eyes and leaned into the kiss, spreading her lips with his own. His hand ran along her body for a moment, but he caught himself, “if you want me to stop, tell me.”

Calliope nodded her head, kissing him again. She closed her eyes and melted into his lips, opening her mouth for his invading tongue.

Her hands were pulling along the buttons of his short sleeve shirt, but Beau opened his eyes as he remembered they were still on the sidewalk.

He pulled her into a water drainage area along the streets and continued to kiss her as they were out of sight. Beau took her bikini top off, his eyes running along her breasts, “you’re gorgeous, Calliope.”

“Are you actually attracted to me?” the girl asked breathlessly, her green eyes wandering along his face for any hint of deception.

Beau laughed, kissing her hotly as his hands groped her breasts, then greedily ran down her body, “more than attracted. You’re the kind of woman that stops the world.”

She smiled but raised her eyebrows, “I thought it was my world.”

The man nodded his head, watching as the girl finished pulling off all the buttons in his shirt to reveal his muscular frame. He was tanned and strong, tall and handsome…

Beau was everything she wanted.

“I want you to feel me,” he took her by the wrist, but she happily let him, and he pressed her hand over his swim trunks where she felt his rock hard rod, “this is what you do to me.”

“How big are you?” Calliope asked as her eyes widened, her hand moving along the imprint of the shaft to try and figure it out herself.

“10 inches,” Beau stared into her eyes, then cleared his throat, “you’re real small. Would I be torturing you by putting that much inside of you?”

She nodded her head, her ginger hair flowing around her in beach waves, but her hand was obviously still very busy feeling him, “absolutely you would be.”

The man nodded his head, but scanned her face and eyes. The hunger he had shown in his smile earlier was all over her eyes, and the two did desire one another equally.

Beau couldn’t help but crack another smile, pressed his lips to hers and let his shorts down.

One hand was groping her ass, the other hand was wet and on his shaft now, “you’d like it though. That’s the problem, isn’t it? We both want it so bad.”

Calliope tore her face from his and dropped to her knees in front of his 10 inch cock. Her green eyes were a whirlwind of wild desire, and she happily wrapped her lips around his tip.

She ran her tongue in circles around his tip, then slurped up his entire shaft, allowing him to thrust his 10 inches as far down her throat as possible.

At first, Beau couldn’t fit it all in her mouth with Calliope gagging a little, but after a few seconds the man figured out an angle and got all of it down the girl’s gagging throat.

He closed his eyes from the pleasure, but pulled out to make sure she got to breathe from the gagging.

The girl immediately pulled him back towards her, begging for more, so he did it again and again and again. When he pulled out, it was because he was fed up…

He wanted her so bad.

Beau tossed Calliope onto the wall, smacking her ass and pulling her cover up shorts off. He saw her little red thong and admired her ass in it, before getting it off too.

He knelt down to taste her pussy, facing in such a way so that his nose was at her clit and his tongue was buried in her wet pussy.

The man was convinced that he fell in love with her in that moment, that the taste of her alone was enough to make any man go insane and fall helplessly in love with her.

His tongue swirled inside of her, looking for her g spot while he rubbed his nose against her clit to stimulate her, but he breathed out some words against her pussy, “you taste just like honey.”

The pleasure Calliope felt was unreal, with the girl rolling her eyes helplessly as she felt every nudge of Beau’s nose or the feeling of his devious tongue, “fuck, Beau… ahhh…”

Beau continued until the girl was near crying from the deep orgasmic feelings he gave her and then he pulled away quickly, standing up to insert himself into her, “get ready and tell me to stop if it’s too much.”

The girl felt herself swoon, leaning her head back to listen to him, then she felt his tip start to enter her.

Calliope leaned into the excitement, the wildness, the randomness of everything that had happened. She closed her eyes, her pussy opening up for him to continue entering.

He spread her apart, but all ten inches found room inside of her with the girl moaning once he filled her up, “Beau… oh… fuuck…”

The man started getting into a rhythm. His thrusts were going deep, all the way inside of her, at a steady pace.

For him, it felt amazing inside of Calliope. Her walls gripped around him, her pussy wet as she accepted all of his inches and she was tight in such a good way.

She tossed her hair out of her face, and Beau’s eyes wandered along the ginger strands, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were a natural red head.”

Calliope tried to respond, but as she opened her mouth to answer, Beau’s thrusts began to speed up. The girl’s only response was turned into loud moaning.

He pushed deeper inside of her, pressing against her cervix in several pounding strokes. He put his hands on her shoulders and leaned forward to kiss her lips while he continued his aggressive thrusting.

That summer night was hot and dry, with the ocean smell everywhere. The heat against Calliope’s skin was from a day of hot temperatures, but also from a burning fire that her and Beau had started to cultivate.

She realized just seconds before he was about to cum, that she was off of birth control. Her lips quivered as she pulled away from Beau, she looked into his blue eyes.

“Your eyes drive me crazy… please don’t cum inside my pussy,” her hips were rocking along his cock, meeting every thrust happily as she looked into his eyes, and she cooed sweetly, “please cum in my mouth, Beau…”

“Yes, Honey,” Beau’s desire caught up to him, so he kissed her with an open mouth before pulling away suddenly.

Calliope turned quickly, squatting down to take his cock down her throat. Her eyes closed as she began to pleasure his shaft as if it was still in her pussy.

Beau groaned quietly, holding onto her by the hair, and pushing his hips deeper into her throat as he came.

His cock pulsated with cum for several seconds, and Calliope was collecting the cum in her mouth to swallow it all at once, her eyes were showing her intense pleasure.

The entire sexual interaction with Beau had Calliope in a state of orgasmic bliss. There, as he finished cumming in her throat, she came even more.

When Beau was done cumming, he pulled out of her mouth slowly and watched her for a second.

Calliope was holding onto his arms as he helped her stand from the ground but she opened her mouth to show him all his cum. She swallowed it all just as the man pulled her up into another deep kiss.

Beau kept kissing her, but grabbed her clothes and helped her get dressed again, “I’m sorry I let myself get carried away.”

“That’s one way of putting what I started,” the girl teased him, trying to remind him that she was into him.

But, she noticed hesitance in the man’s expression.

Beau knew who he was and he was starting to learn who she was. He didn’t want to stop learning about her, he wanted to be around her, but, “I’m going to be working until next Saturday.”

“Saving lives for an entire week. You should be proud of yourself,” Calliope smiled at him and continued leading him to her apartment.

When she looked at him, she noticed pain in his baby blue eyes. The girl took his arm in hers and looked up at him sweetly, “you look all sad, Blue Boy.”

There’s a crushing silence where loves a disease. Like a fever it grips me, like a lover it holds.

Beau finally cracked a smile, his eyes lighting up slightly, but that was only because he was so enthralled by her. She was perfect for him and he wanted to be half as good for her, “I am slightly. You deserve more of my time, and you know I need more of yours.”

“I don’t expect anything from you,” she told him honestly, but held his hand in hers, “I’d be so happy to give you more of my time.”

“Next Sunday, before sunrise, I’m picking you up and we’re going to the beach,” Beau made the plans with conviction, looking into her green eyes with his crystal pools.

Calliope smiled sheepishly but tore her eyes away as they started approaching the door of her place, “I’m home. Thank you, Beau. Sunday for sure.”

“Do you have a cellphone?” the man curiously asked. His voice was tender and sweet. Despite that, he was tall, strong, and almost scary?

Not to Calliope. He was so calm, he was so gentle. He was everything she’d ever dreamed of.

She shook her head, “no, I don’t… I’ve honestly been blacking out every so often. I barely remember the last few weeks.”

Beau frowned sympathetically as he patted his pockets for his wallet. Once he had it, he opened it up and pulled out six hundred dollars, “here. This should hopefully be enough for you to get a phone. Could you bring me a pen and paper?”

Calliope nodded her head. She opened the door with her key and disappeared inside the house for a few minutes, coming back out with it, “I can’t take your money…”

The man shook his head, folded the bills and put them into her hand as he took the notepad and pen, “here’s my number. Go get yourself a phone and a data plan tomorrow, and text me.”

The girl opened her mouth in protest, “you gave me too much money… I’m going to just give it back to you when I see you again.”

“I’d prefer you give yourself to me the next time I see you. Keep the money, we’ll talk soon,” Beau smiled down at the girl and then leaned forward, kissing her on the lips.

Calliope leaned forward into the kiss, opening her lips, then pulling away as she looked up at him, “I’ll see you, then.”

The tall man started walking backwards along the street, his eyes were still on her, “I gotta watch you go inside and lock the door.”

I will never get used to you.

Her heart fluttered, she felt lost in his eyes. Calliope couldn’t believe he was real and she wanted to watch him disappear, but he was a gentleman.

She smiled at him, swooned internally as she walked into the apartment, and locked the door behind her.

For a second, she just paused and listened in the silence of her home. She could hear Beau’s footsteps disappearing along the street.

The heavy sounds of the giant, kind man that had fucked her roughly yet treated her so sweetly.

She set his money and the notepad with his number down on the coffee table, about to walk away when she felt butterflies in her stomach.

Returning quickly to the table, she immediately noticed there was a note. She knelt down and read it in her head, her heart racing while her face started to burn.

Beau wrote: I can’t wait to see you again

Calliope memorized the note and his number that night.

HE'S HEREE!!! ahhh I'm so happy, I've been so excited to tell Beau's story but I kept putting his story later and later in the series because I knew his story would be worth the wait.

Let me know whatever you think of him <3

SONG REFERENCES

Haze by Amber Run

Never Stop (Wedding Version) by SafetySuit

[secretsofthestorymakers]

The Saga of Aren

I absolutely love Arendelle History, so when I read Forest of Shadows and learned about the Saga of Aren, I was so excited. The only thing that disappointed me was that we didn’t get the entire thing. So, being the obsessive overachiever that I am, I wrote my own idea of the rest of it. I worked super hard on this for like a month and a half, and I am so proud of how it turned out! I had never really written any poetry before, but I had more fun with it than I expected, and have even written a little more since (not Frozen related, sorry). I might post an in depth analysis later, but for now I’ll just say that I wrote this to be intentionally vague, and to represent Anna and Elsa’s story as well as Aren’s.

The parts in italics and quotes are from FoS, so were written by Kamila Benko. I wrote the rest. (With a few exceptions that are quotes from something else, noted at the end)

The Saga of Aren

By: Kamila Benko & SecretsOfTheStoryMakers

“A long time ago in a time before time, a great darkness swept over the land”

A dark fright came, the people fought, but could not make their stand

They fled their shores and took to the seas, their homeland all but lost

To Dark and Cold and Past and Fear, the silence and the frost

As ages passed and people still were trapped upon their ships

The storm roared on, there was no end to the sun’s total eclipse

They begged the earth, the wind, the flame, the oceans heard their cries

And from their unknown, watery depths a spirit did arise

The water spirit too, had felt the chill of endless night

It told the people, for a price, it could help bring back the light

The people were so fearful, urgently they did agree

In return they promised someday that the spirits would be free

As the earth’s ancient spirits have foretold, there will come a fearful age

All that live upon the earth will be trapped within dark’s cage

The sky will be shadow, fade away, as the spirits lose their song

The world needs a leader and protector, someone to right this wrong

To scale fear’s greatest precipice, as the mountain’s facade comes crashing

To face the fear with light’s greatest strength, upon past and present’s clashing

It comes on the world’s great eve of change, as the north wind’s song is turning

Beware what you may think you know, for “the past has a way of returning.*”

The mythic Nokk came to the end of the spirits’ prophecy

It bowed its head and flashed its eyes, returning to the sea

The people knew it spoke the truth, the world would be free again

They only needed a bridge, a bond, to let the light back in

They needed someone fearless, with love enough to light the dark

Only one of their number was brave enough to bear the spirits’ mark

“Young as the morning, as fierce as a twig, Aren stepped out onto the land”

He’d made his choice, to protect his people, against the dark he’d stand

And so Aren set off, alone as the sun, armed only with his love

His plan was simple; persuade the moon to make peace with the sun above

Night’s dark creatures of memories corrupted, tried to stop him on his quest

But Aren persevered, held on to love, despite fear’s every test

He scaled the greatest, northern mountain, and when he reached the top,

He called to the moon, showed her their pain, told her this night needed to stop

The moon felt remorseful, her tears fell to earth as she realized what she’d done

She crossed the sky, returning home, to find her sister sun

The moon and sun were reunited, together at long last

The sisters agreed they’d rule together, “the past was in the past**”

Their strengths combined would bring peace to the world, as the spirits had foretold

With a “yellow diamond, bright as an eye”, they made Aren a blade of gold

“Revolving moon and spinning sun forged a crescent blade

From light and dark within the heart, the burnished sword was made.

He raised it high above his head and smote the edge of land”

The curve of his blade struck the earth and carved the kingdom’s span

As he cracked the ancient, unbroken rock, Revolute began to glow

The earth’s core tremored, shaking, shifting, disrupting the water’s flow

“The sea rushed in as hidden power flowed from the gleaming sword

And shaped the rock and forest crown of the first majestic fjord!”

The people rejoiced as they came to the land and deemed it “Arendelle”

At last they’d returned, to summer’s embrace, where they’d forever dwell

“As revolving moon and spinning sun, once forged a crescent blade,***”

Forever may true love endure, “may the flags of Arendelle ever wave”

*This is a quote, but it is not stated to be in the Saga. It is the tagline of Forest of Shadows.

**This is a quote from Frozen (Let it Go to be specific), but it is not stated to be in the Saga.

***I slightly adjusted this line from what is said in the book. The direct quote is: “Revolving moon and spinning sun, forged a crescent blade.” Normally, I wouldn’t adjust the line that was directly stated, but this was only said once, by Anna, who also said “something something something something” for the first part of the next line. I’m just assuming that maybe she made a mistake with the first part she said too, since the line that she actually said is definitely in the Saga elsewhere.

[vera27]

Some drabbles I made for a shrios fic I'm working on.

Shepard's POV

It's whispered sometimes. In between soft touches, gentle reassurances, and endless warmth, she hears it. It calls, a sweet siren's song, and draws her ever so closer. She doesn't fight it, at least not at first. The way it offers sweet respite is too comforting to refuse. But as she comes closer, reaches the precipice, and realizes it for what it is. Her feet freeze. Fear gripping her tightly in it's apprehension.

It's when black pools catch the light, green scales flicker with a tinge of blue, that her breath catches, heart pounds, pulse hastens. And she knows. She hesitates. She fears. The realization that her heart is much to fragile, much too beaten, cut, torn to bear any more is all too weighty on her mind.

Because when she falls into it, when she feels it, a part of her soul is given away freely.

And she knows when it's lost, when he's lost a drift for another shore, that it'll never come back. A part of her soul taken away somewhere far where she can never hear it's song.

She's lost too many pieces to not horde away what little is left.

Thane's POV

Thane wonders if perhaps his heart stopped the moment he saw her laying there, red pooling around sickly yellow scales painting the floor in a life stolen, torn, broken. But then he thinks perhaps it stopped the moment he'd taken up his job once more.

And from there the thoughts spiral.

Regret is a horrible thing. It's tendrils are vast, strong, terrifying. It's easy to get lost in it. Easy to fall into the memories. Thane knows, he's been lost before. Trapped and trying to change something that's already happened. Trapped and hoping that things will change. But that's the problem, regret stems from the past, an unchangeable, permanent thing.

And so he waits. Waits for the tide to rise, for the sea to claim him. So he'll no longer feel the weight of his actions, the permanence of his mistakes. He doesn't want to feel his soul suffering, screaming, blaming, cursing. His heart stopped the moment the waves had come crashing down over her and he has no intentions on reviving it.

[acewithapaintbrush]

MUMMY AU MUMMY AU MUMMY AUUUU

Well well well, should have known that you would ask about the One Piece Mummy AU with Luffy as Evie and Zoro as Rick O'Connell. It would also star Ace and Sabo as overprotective brothers and Nami as the thief we all love her as. I wanted to share the very rough summary I have done months ago but for you, my dear, I instead typed out Zoros and Luffy's first meeting! I did this just now so it's very rough but hope you enjoy ❤️

************

Zoro squints against the unforgiving Egyptian sun. There are people standing in front of his cell. A man with blonde hair and a prominent scar on his face and a black haired man with freckles that, for some reason, has no shirt on. Zoro almost snorts. That's a recipe for an epic sunburn but whatever, not his problem. 

The two of them are bickering with the prison warden, throwing Zoro uneasy looks from time to time. There is also a young woman with hair so red it looks orange in the sun. She is standing a bit to the side, arms crossed, trying to act as if she is bored out of her mind. But Zoro can see the way her gaze is fixed on the execution platform and the noose idly swinging in the wind. 

There is also that fucking clown, Buggy. The one that stole from him and got him into this mess. 

“You!” he growls and is gratified when the guards standing behind him take a step back even though his ire wasn't even directed at them. The actual target of his bloodlust pales and then tries to cover his nerves up with a high pitched laugh. 

“No hard feelings, eh, Roronoa? You lost that key fair and square.”

“And the second I get out of here I will cut your throat. Fair and square.”

Zoro knows that he looks absolutely feral, dirty and still bloody from a recent fight. He must look like the demon they love to call him. The two men and the warden stare at him and the girl squints at him from the corner of her eyes, her shoulders tense. The clown looks like he is about to piss himself and Zoro loves it, loves that even behind bars with shackles around his wrists and his swords locked up in the warden's office he can strike fear into his enemies. 

Except that there is suddenly someone else crouching down in front of his cell, so close he fills Zoro’s entire field of vision. A young man with a straw hat and a small scar right under one of his eyes. Zoro doesn't understand how he could have missed him until now. The eyes are dancing and his smile shines bright like the sun. He is definitely smaller than Zoro in stature but something about him feels endless. Vast like the sea Zoro hasn't seen in years. 

“So cool!” the man with the scar says and he leans even closer, close enough Zoro can smell his breath. It inexplicably smells like the sea. The dust and the grime of the desert suddenly feel far away even though Zoro is kneeling right in it, bleeding right into it from a wound that hasn't healed yet. 

One of the men interrupts his discussion with the warden to shout a quick “Don't get too close, Luffy.”

Luffy subtly rolls his eyes and doesn't move. Zoro grins and the man grins back. Sharp. Dangerous. 

Zoro leans closer. 

“Luffy, eh?”

“Yep. And you are Zoro. Boogey says you know the way to Hamunaptra.”

“Maybe I do.”

Luffy hums and leans his forehead against the bars of his cell, a smirk playing around his lips. The guards at Zoro’s back move as if they want to intervene but ultimately decide to keep out of it. Smart men. “They wanna hang you tomorrow. My brothers are trying to buy your freedom.”

Zoro laughs a little and delights in the way Luffy's eyes widen with curiosity. “How nice of them.”

“Hm. They are the best. Sabo really wants to find that mystery place.” His voice lowers. It feels like they are alone. Their noses are almost touching through the bars. “Will you show us the way?”

Zoro exhales. “Let's make a deal. You get me out of here, and I'll be your guide to wherever you want to go.”

And before he can change his mind he surges forward and presses his lips against those of the man in front of him. The kiss is messy, not his best work at all, but hey, his execution is scheduled for tomorrow and he hasn't been intrigued by anyone like this in many many years. The only shots you miss are the ones you don't take. 

He can hear the guards scramble forward to restrain him and a distant part acknowledges Luffy's brothers shouting bloody murder so he starts to pull back. Before he can, Luffy grabs his shirt through the bars and pulls him right back in, pressing their mouths harder against each other. As Zoro is finally ripped away he feels teeth slightly pierce his lower lip, drawing a bit of blood. 

The guards pull him backwards towards the door that leads inside and the last thing Zoro sees is Luffy's face, pressed against the bars, eyes on fire and grin almost a little too wide, a tiny spot of red glistening in the corner of his mouth. 

“It's a deal.”

******

I do realize the irony of making Zoro a guide but I intend to have some fun with that