#and that other oc i had that i made a whole village for

[damneddamsy]

second sight | cregan stark x oc (part viii)

a/n: today on a special angst-fluff episode, war is here. Claere faces off with Sylas and Cregan is pissed as fuck.

"The North remembers," they said, but in the face of dragonfire, memories of ash smouldered in secret.

The saying haunted Cregan Stark’s mind as he stared up at the approaching stone walls of Winterfell, each one steeped in history, in blood, in the scars of northern pride. The wildlings had brought ruin here before, flames that had charred whole villages and left deep wounds in the land and its people.

Now, with Sylas the Grim’s ruthless host threatening their borders, the North knew what it faced—a familiar terror comes to life in a new skin. And yet, this time, that terror was woven with something the North found even harder to bear: Claere. Their frustration with her burned as deep as their fear of Sylas. She was a tempest, one with a dragon’s shadow, and the tempest had now come home.

The ride back from Castle Cerwyn had been tense, Cregan keeping his jaw clenched as Claere remained distant, her silence like a wall. Her eyes held that distant, unreadable look he recognized all too well—the look that told him she was utterly unreachable elsewhere. And when the raven had come, when they’d learned the wildlings had already torn through Queensgate and were now barreling toward Winterfell, Claere’s decision was swift and absolute. She had urged her dragon, Luna, and flown on ahead, faster than any horse could travel, her need for solitude all too clear.

Back home, Winterfell was in turmoil. Word of Sylas’s raiders had spread quickly, stirring panic and outrage among the smallfolk and the highborn alike. Fear clung to the stone walls, and every murmur seemed to echo with the name of the wildling king who rode south of the Wall, the one who dared invoke a queen’s name—a southern majesty who bore a northern title, one that Winterfell was not wholly at ease with. But Cregan had no time for doubt or hesitation. His vassals, his bannermen—they would follow his lead or face his wrath.

In the great hall, the mood was dark and simmering, like a storm straining at its bounds. It has been this way ever since Claere had stepped foot into his home.

Lord Bolton, face sharp as a flint, crossed his arms and let his displeasure be known. “We’re to fight her war now, are we, my lord? Our sons and daughters—our lives spent to drive back the blood she’s drawn? What loyalty do we owe to a Targaryen?”

Cregan’s eyes darkened, his fists tight by his side, but he remained composed. “Our loyalty is to the North. This enemy does not care who reigns here; only Winterfell falls. And you will address Lady Stark with respect.”

Lord Ryswell, his brow heavy with disdain, shook his head. “But it is the White Dread's wings that drew their eye. This Sylas did not come for Winterfell—he came for her. Let her face him with her beast; let her burn them herself. Must we spill our blood to clean up her folly?”

Cregan’s hands trembled, his patience thinning like a frayed cord.

“If you would run when danger calls at our gates, then perhaps you belong south of the Neck, Lord Ryswell,” he spat, stepping toward him with a fury that made the air crackle. “Do not forget who leads here. You’re bound by the oath to fight for the North, and if you turn your back on that now, I will have your head before the wildlings can take it.”

Ryswell tensed, glancing around as other lords shifted uncomfortably. But he did not back down. “This is your queen’s doing, Lord Stark. She must carry the burden she’s brought upon us, and not cower behind our banners while Winterfell suffers.”

With a flash of uncontained rage, Cregan seized Ryswell by the collar, his grip vice-tight, fingers digging into the thick fabric as he hauled the lord off balance. The impact against the stone wall was brutal, echoing in the quiet tension of the hall, and Ryswell’s startled breath hitched, his eyes widening.

Cregan leaned in, his face mere inches from Ryswell’s, voice low and simmering with menace as he hissed, “If you question my wife's allegiance to the North, then you best prepare to prove yours. She has done more for my people than your risen banners.”

Lord Bolton dared to govern order over the Stark court. "My lord, please—"

“Let me make one thing clear." His voice reverberated louder. "I will fight for her, and the North will fight for her—whether you bend or break.”

He released Ryswell, who stumbled back with a dark glare, but Cregan paid no more heed. He swept his gaze over the others, a steely finality in his eyes.

“We stand together, or our realm falls.”

Unbeknownst to them, Claere lingered in the archway of the hall, a palm against the cool stone as if bracing herself against a tidal wave. She had known the risks, known the delicate line she walked when she ventured past the Wall. And yet, in the depths of her mind, she had believed the danger would end there—with her. That it would be her own fate to face, her choice to defend, and her consequence to bear. She had never thought it would ripple out, consuming not only Winterfell but every corner of the North in the threat of savage war. Now, with Sylas the Grim bearing down on them, the cost was spreading like poison through a wound, infecting all she held dear, casting a shadow over the very halls that had given her sanctuary.

The impact of her actions goaded her, as though Winterfell itself whispered its disappointment. She felt her stomach churn as Cregan's voice rang out, his fury cracking against stone and iron like thunder, defiant, desperate to protect her.

“And I will not allow any man here to see that happen.”

But she could feel the resentment in the lords' voices, their scorn a silent sentence upon her. Their words seemed to cut deeper than any northern frost, digging into her heart until the shame became unbearable.

Without a word, she turned away from the door, her footsteps echoing hollowly as she walked into the dim solitude of the hall.

Claere moved through the towering gates of Winterfell as if stepping out from a world she could no longer right. The northern wind tore at her cloak, pulling stray strands of silver hair across her face, but her gaze was steady, her jaw set with silent resolve.

Just beyond the walls, Luna lay blanketed in a thin dusting of fresh snow, her pearly scales glinting beneath as she shook herself free, the icy fragments scattering around her like stardust. Claere approached, running her hand along the dragon’s warm, rumbling hide, fingers tracing the edges of Luna's scales.

"Eman naejot addemmagon se odre," she said to herself and her dragon. I have to pay the price. Only me.

Luna’s golden eyes narrowed as if the dragon understood more than the simple cadence of her words, the fire at the heart of those depths a spark of both promise and warning. The dragon let out a low, vibrating hum, pressing her enormous head down toward Claere in something almost like tenderness. Claere, hands splayed on Luna’s snout, whispered into the space between them, her voice scarcely above a breath.

“Iksan zūgagon, Luna," she admitted in a whisper. "Kessa ao dohaeragon nyke?” I am scared, Luna. Will you help me?

The response was a fierce snort of smoke as if Luna were granting her blessing and all her reassurance. It was not enough.

Dutifully, Claere climbed the ropes of the saddle and mounted her steed, her knees pressing tight against Luna’s warm scales, and then, with a shout that cut the still air—“Soves, Luna!”—they took to the skies. Fly, Luna!

The winds sliced against her, battering her with an unyielding chill as they soared. She had forgone her riding leathers in the haste of her choice, the coarse wind whipping at her skirts and cloak, cutting against her skin. But the discomfort was a faraway thing and such was the spontaneity of dragonblood. She flew fast, intent, her mind ablaze with thoughts of everything she had left behind and what lay ahead. Her vision sharpened as she scanned the frozen lands below, hunting for signs of the enemy’s encampment.

And finally, there—sprawling like some savage scar against the land—a camp of tattered tents and ash-dusted fires spread in defiance of the snow.

The wildlings’ camp was a raw display of grit and disorder, tents lashed together with hide and bone, rings of fire smouldering where warriors gathered in restless clusters. The sight of her shadow looming overhead sent them into frantic motion; men and women darted for weapons, cries ringing out as they readied for the worst. But Claere had no intention of launching fire or fury from above. She descended steadily, bringing Luna’s menacing form to the ground with a long, deafening roar that sent nearby men staggering.

Two wildlings rushed forward, their faces painted in streaks of ash, axes drawn, arrows already nocked in their bows. They moved with lethal purpose, but Claere was unfazed, her gaze like tempered steel.

“I must speak to the one who calls himself Sylas the Grim,” she called, her voice emphatic, tenacious.

She could feel the wild energy of Luna at her back, a silent reminder of the fire she could unleash with a mere command. Her heart hammered in the pause, yet her expression held no threat, no violence. Instead, her intentions were more profound—steeped in duty and sacrifice, fueled by a desperate love that outweighed all her fears. She was not here to rain death but to offer herself to the one who wanted her, the one who had torn peace from her hands.

“Tell him the Dragon Queen in the North is here.”

X

Claere stepped into the dim tent, the heavy fabric rustling behind her as it closed, sealing her within a space that reeked of sweat, smoke, and damp fur. Her eyes adjusted to the flickering torchlight, revealing a figure looming at the centre—a man so solid and coarse that he seemed an extension of the savage north itself.

Sylas the Grim. He was far taller than Cregan, broad-shouldered and massive, his age betrayed by streaks of grey in his wild mane of red hair. He wore pelts and leathers, smeared with the earth and blood of countless battles and raids, and every inch of him seemed sharpened by a life spent enduring the elements and taking what he desired.

Two guards, as fierce as hounds, lingered on either side of him, but with a single dismissive flick of his wrist, they shuffled out.

"I want her to myself," he said to them.

Sylas’s mouth twisted into a grin that split his face into his bushy beard, yellowed teeth gleaming. His eyes traced her form with a gluttonous curiosity like she were some rare prey he’d finally snared after a long, arduous hunt. Claere moved further into the tent, her posture poised, her gaze inscrutable, her calm an unsettling contrast to the predatory air he exuded.

She dipped into a curtsey, uncertain how a man like this might wish to be addressed. “My lord, allow me a proper introduction. I am Claere Stark, Lady of Winterfell.”

He let out a bark of laughter, coarse and unrestrained. “My lord? Am I your lord? I'll be King Sylas soon enough.” His eyes roamed over her, lingering at her shoulders, then her face, savouring every inch. “You’re too little for a queen. Just a baby. How old are you?”

A faint chill settled into her voice. “Six and ten, my lord. My mother is still the queen.”

Sylas’s smile widened, a feral gleam lighting his eyes. “And you will be someday. You're already a woman.”

The words hung between them, fraught with the ominous weight of his intent. Claere’s pulse quickened beneath her skin, but she remained as marble, knowing his hunger for power, for something beyond the life he’d known, radiated from every gesture. Her dragon, her birthright, the North—these were the spoils he craved. He leaned forward, his massive figure closing in, an aura of raw ferocity emanating.

Sylas's lips twisted into a grin that dripped with satisfaction as he stepped closer, his broad frame casting a shadow that swallowed the light around them. He folded his arms, leaning back with a smug, wolfish glint in his eye.

“Did you fly all this way for me?”

“I did, my lord.” Her voice was measured, smooth—a tempered blade he hadn’t yet managed to dull.

“Oh, I like it when you call me that,” he mused, his eyes glinting with perverse pleasure. “Makes me feel like a god.” He let the words roll over her, savouring each one, circling her like a predator with fresh meat. “So,” he continued, his voice lilting with mock surprise, “you’ve come to beg for mercy, then? The little queen, down on her knees? Not to kill the Stark boy?”

Claere lifted her chin, her expression as serene and cold as winter’s first frost. “You wanted me,” she said, her words quiet, unyielding. “Now you have me.”

A ripple of something feral passed through him, his grin widening into a leer, his pride feeding on her defiance.

“I don't plan on letting go. Now tell me, does the North know it bends to me through you?” His gaze roamed over her, possessive, as if she were no more than a prize he had finally claimed. “I wonder, does the wolf know that his doe strayed into the wild?”

“If you require words,” she replied, “then speak them plainly. But do not think to bait me.”

Sylas let out a bark of laughter, filling the tent with his raw, unrestrained mirth.

“Words, little queen?” he sneered. “No, I’ve got no need for words. Only the strength to take what’s mine.” He took another step toward her, his gaze alight with victory, his looming presence attempting to smother the quiet resolve in her eyes.

"Winterfell,” he paused, his gaze hardening, “the Iron Throne. And with you by my side, the North will rule the South.”

She saw it now, the intent beneath his words, as clear as day: he wanted her claim, her blood, her dragon—and through her, dominion over the entire realm. He sought the legitimacy of her claim, so unlike the Free Folk who lived outside the law. She felt the desire in his gaze sharpen, like a wolf that had tasted blood. Claere remained unbowed, every inch of her regal bearing intact, meeting his eyes with a steady defiance that amused him.

“You're a pretty girl. None are like you past the Wall—shiny things are rare in the white woods,” he mused, lifting a calloused hand to touch the edge of her lip with his thumb. His skin was rough, the gesture slow and deliberate, a feigned intimacy that carried a threat.

“I've heard about your kind. Nasty cunts, you lot. Kings with dragons for cocks. Queens that piss fire. Brother-fuckers. What were you doing out there in the snow, hm?”

His thumb lingered, the weight of it pressing against her lip, but her eyes were deadened, as though she were looking through him rather than at him. His proximity, his words—none of it shook her. She saw him for what he was, a man intent on conquest, and she would not give him the pleasure of rattling her.

“Only what’s trivial to your eyes, my lord,” she answered with measured calm, her gaze unwavering.

“Aye, maybe so,” he grunted, though the words fell bitterly from his mouth. His gaze hardened, refusing to be bested by her poise. “But you were still stupid enough to catch my eye.” His words held the bitterness of a hunter who’d finally cornered the game he’d long sought.

In truth, Sylas had spotted her months before, that slip of silver moving through the snow, a ravishing figure set apart from the northern world. He saw his chance then—a dragon rider alone, his path to dominance over more than just a scattered wildling host. He could claim the North through her, and if fate allowed, the world beyond it.

Finally, he moved his hand away and stood back, his grin widening. “But why’d you come to me? These are my lands now. You could’ve burned all my men from up there with that dragon and saved yourself the trouble.”

Claere gave a small, almost careless smile, the tilt of her head catching the dim candlelight in the tent. “You wanted me, didn’t you?” she replied, her voice smooth, level.

Sylas let out a scoff, though the amusement didn’t reach his eyes. “Came for a good fuck with a king?”

Claere blinked. “I've got that settled, my lord.”

“Ooh. No, no, that’s not it. I see it in those weird fuckin' eyes.” He bent to her eye level, the smell of woodsmoke and something sharper coming off him in waves.

“You came to kill me,” he said.

“Hmm.” Claere’s lips curved slightly, her smile a barely there promise, tinged with dark certainty. “Fortunately for you, it isn't my hands that bring your death.”

The smile faded from his face, leaving a flare of anger there, a crack in his façade. His eyes narrowed, and before she could move, his hand shot out and twisted in her thick braids, pulling her head back roughly, his face inches from hers. Claere stubbornly smothered a cry of pain in her throat.

“You think that wolf of yours is going to protect you, huh?”

Claere only sighed, her calm as impervious as ever, even as her hair tugged sharply. Her eyes, blank as winter’s endless fields, never left his face, every ounce of his threat barely a breeze against her. And just as he opened his mouth to press further, a shadow passed over the tent, the sound of heavy breathing growing closer—a thunderous exhale, deep as the earth.

“I was born with a guardian.” Claere countered softly. “My dragon is here. The wolf is a blessing.”

Sylas’s fingers twitched against her scalp, but his grip was weaker now, a flicker of doubt creeping into his predatory stare as Luna’s shadow shifted just beyond the tent walls, her breath a low, rumbling growl that vibrated through the earth beneath them.

Claere’s eyes glinted with quiet defiance as she met his gaze, her lips barely moving as she murmured, “I could say the word.” Her voice was silk over steel. “Let her burn us both here, finish this battle before it ever begins. But my husband waits for me—and he’s ready to repay in kind.”

Sylas’s face twisted, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “You think I'm scared of that boy? I killed his Night's Watch commander. I killed all those crows. I rode through the Wall for you, little queen, I don't care if he's shitting bricks when I put my axe in his head.”

“Strange,” she replied smoothly, “that you would bring all these men to capture a single girl before you march on King's Landing.” Her gaze drifted over him, cool and measuring. “Or is that all you can manage, my lord? Three thousand strong, and not a one with the grit to face the boy who stands in your way?”

He sneered, tightening his grip on her hair, another now closed around her neck, yet something in his posture had faltered, his shoulders stiffening. “I don’t need to fight him to take what’s mine.”

“Then why not march to Winterfell yourself?” Her smile was taunting, almost pitying, like a spark dancing in the shadows. “Do you fear he’ll be waiting for you at the gates? Do you fear he'll cleave your head before you can cross him?”

Sylas’s jaw clenched, his dark eyes blazing with something close to fury.

"I've seen Cregan Stark fight," she went on. "He doesn’t tire, doesn’t yield. Your three thousand could be thirty thousand, and it would make no difference. You cannot break him, he is winter itself."

His grip on her hair tightened. “Careful, girl. You’re not as untouchable as you think.”

“But I am,” Claere replied, unruffled, leaning in until her voice was a whisper only he could hear. “You know it as well as I do. Your strength lies in numbers, yet here you are—grappling with a girl and a shadow.” She leaned back, bored now. “Go home, Sylas, if you value the lives of your men. They didn’t come here to die for your pride.”

Sylas’s sneer softened, a slight uncertainty that only strengthened her resolve. He might have come to conquer, but at that moment, it was clear who held the true power in the tent.

A sudden blink released him of hesitation. His fingers roughly released Claere’s hair with a grudging smirk, as though her words had somehow shifted the game in his mind. He let her step back, looking her up and down as if appraising a newfound bounty. A flicker of excitement gleamed in his eyes—a dark eagerness that reeked of arrogance.

“Go on, then,” Sylas drawled, waving her away with a lazy flick of his hand. “Run back to your wolf and tell him I’m coming. No more raiding, no more warnings. I'll take his head his doe and the entire North at Winterfell’s gates myself.”

Claere held his gaze as she stepped back, unruffled, allowing a cool smile to curve her lips. She brushed her hands down her silver curls, arranging them around her shoulders patiently.

“Tell him yourself. I’m certain he’d love to hear it from you. My husband loves a good fight, you see.”

Sylas laughed, a booming, feral sound. “Oh, I will. I’ll bring him to his knees, make him watch while I put a prince in your belly. You’ll forget that Stark soon enough, little queen, or he'll just go deaf from hearing you scream.”

His smile was wide, boastful, but behind it lingered the faintest hint of unease—a silent recognition of the words she’d left with him, like whispers of ice drifting through the heat of his fury.

“Primitive talk from a primitive man. You’d better bring all of your legions, then,” she replied, her voice soft, but her words as pointed as any blade. “You’ll need them.”

“Little silver-haired bitch,” Sylas indistinctly growled under his breath, as if speaking aloud would bring forth the White Dread's fiery ire.

And with that, she politely inclined her head and turned, stepping out into the icy winds with her chin held high, leaving Sylas in the shadow of her dragon’s looming presence, casting him in darkness.

X

Cregan sat hunched over a sprawling table strewn with hastily drawn maps, half-finished sketches of battle formations, and advice from every corner of his bannermen. Some had urged caution, wary of the wildlings’ numbers and the risk to their forces. Others, bold and battle-worn, advocated for a bold strike north, encouraging him to meet Sylas with all the fire and fury of Winterfell’s strength. Yet for all their words, Cregan found himself constantly drifting back to one thought—to ride north alone, with Ice at his back, and hack down the wildling scourge himself.

The capriciousness of his decision kept him so absorbed he didn’t hear the door open or her soft steps on the stone floor. It wasn’t until she brushed past him, a warm hand resting on his shoulder, that he looked up, startled. All the exhaustion in his eyes fled, a reaction to whenever she graced him with her presence. He sat up straighter, eager to have her close.

Claere. She wore a faint smile, so casual, so beautiful, like she hadn’t spent the last days keeping to herself, hiding in plain sight, avoiding him like winter's fever. Before he could speak, she leaned in and kissed the arc of his cheek.

"Husband," she greeted quietly.

He stilled, pleasantly confused, but found himself responding instinctively, returning her kiss with a soft press of his lips to her temple. She stood beside him, hands clasped behind her back, violet eyes inspecting his plans, her experience an unspoken mystery. A hurricane in the guise of a summer breeze.

Then, he noticed it—a faint, unfamiliar scent. His brow furrowed as he sniffed the air again.

“What is that?”

She held his gaze, placid as ever. “Dragon. I was riding Luna,” she answered, her tone simple, almost childlike. Her eyes sparkled with innocent mischief, but the smell lingered, feral and sharp, more like wild meat than dragon flight.

He looked closer, and that’s when he saw it—a sickly green, darkening bruise hidden under the veil of her silver hair, two thumb-sized marks pressed just below her hairline. He stood up, anxiety overwhelming in a second, reaching toward her, but she sidestepped him smoothly, her gaze sliding to the floor.

“I fell,” she murmured, her voice light as air.

He let out an incredulous laugh, reaching for her chin to tilt her face toward him. “Here I thought you despised lies.”

Claere’s cool, unflinching gaze remained fixed on the floor for a long, unbearable second before she lifted it, unbothered by his anxieties.

"I flew to the wildling camps on the undern. To meet with Sylas the Grim.”

For a heartbeat, there was only stunned silence.

Cregan's hand dropped from her chin, falling to his side as if struck. Finally, when her situation registered, the words came, heated and fierce.

“You what?” Cregan’s voice was low, simmering. He rubbed at his eyes, sighing out, before he pointed to her bruise. "He did that then?"

She nodded. "I pushed him too far. My mistake."

“Are you mad?" he hissed.

She swallowed hard, stroking at the numbing bruise on her neck, and said nothing.

He flouted her concerning remark. "I defended you to my council—to men who would sooner see you gone than risk their lives for you! I’ve called all my banners, raised every able sword in the North—for you—and you thought it wise to stake your life before that wildling scum?”

He looked at her, half-expecting her to flinch under his fury. But she only watched him back, observant, enduring as stone, her lips pressed thin. Her calm only ignited him further.

“I spent hours preparing our defences, convincing them to stand with you, while you—” he clenched his fists—“while you went and met with the very man who could've struck you down with his bare hands. Alone!”

The crack came swift and sharp—a fire flaring to life behind her violet gaze, a flash of defiance as fierce as the flame inside her.

“I don't care, Cregan. I wanted to do the same for you.” she snapped, her silver tongue lashing. “I want to defend you. To protect you, before Sylas. For you.”

A tremor silenced the room. It was the rarest thing, her rage—rare, and somehow more daunting than his. It stole his breath and wiped the words clean off his tongue.

Cregan stared, thunderstruck, a storm gathering behind his eyes. Her words seemed to settle into him only slowly, like a wound too deep to notice at first. Claere’s fingers twitched at her sides, her lips pressed tightly together as if she were struggling to hold back her own words. She looked away, jaw set with a resolve that didn’t quite hide the tension beneath.

He exhaled harshly, dragging a hand through his hair. “Claere…” he began, voice rough with something caught between anger and hurt, “Do you even realize how careless this was, love?”

Her words came out painful. "It's all my fault."

His expression shifted, his initial anger tempered by an ache in his gaze as her admission, bare and raw, settled over the room like the aftermath of a storm.

“It’s my fault,” she echoed, her voice breaking just a little. She didn’t look at him, didn’t dare meet his eyes as the shame tightened in her throat. “I did this. They are right.”

Cregan felt his own frustration melt, a tide pulling away to reveal the harshness of his own words. He moved closer, his arms reaching out but stopping short, hovering as if afraid she’d slip through his fingers.

"Sweetling. Claere," he said, his voice a mere plea. "There's no use in laying blame, especially on you. You know I would raze half these men myself before I let them tear you down."

She shook her head, her hands clenching at her sides. “I've been an impediment for too long. We both know it. I expected things would change with time. Yet I'm playing at something I never will be...” She trailed off, and a heavy silence settled between them, her own helplessness almost unbearable.

Like hell, he would let her forget her worth for a piece of piss.

He reached for her, fingertips tracing the edge of her cheek before coming to rest under her chin, tilting her face toward him with evident resolve.

“The North will fight, but not out of fear or obligation. Because of you,” he declared to her, his voice rough with feeling. “You are of Winterfell now, Claere. And for that, we will fight.”

For a moment, her gaze flickered with uncertainty, her lips pressed tight, yet he held her there in his arms, grounding her with his assurance.

Gently, he brought her into a kiss, his lips brushing hers with a tenderness that spoke of comfort and promise alike. His hands cradled her face, his fingers threading softly through her hair as if each touch could smooth away the weight she carried. The kiss was slow, unhurried, he tasted the salt of her worry and the steel of her will, sensing the guardedness that lingered beneath her quietude. Yet his touch was firm, anchoring, a proof that there was nowhere safer, no one more ready to bear her burdens with her.

When he drew back, he lingered close, his forehead resting gently against hers, his eyes flashed with something like awe, and a low chuckle escaped him.

“You must tell me, how in the gods’ names did you manage to meet Sylas and walk away with but a bruise?”

Claere shrugged with quiet, unassuming grace, her gaze sliding past him as though recalling an idle, inconsequential memory. “I spoke with him, that’s all. Said what needed saying.”

He continued to prod. “That is all?”

“Yes. I simply suggested that if he truly wanted our kingdom, then why he hadn’t contested the King in the North himself instead of raiding innocent villages .” Her eyes met his with a calm intensity. “It seemed only fair.”

He let out a surprised laugh, brows lifting, “Fair? You took his mind off his prize and sent him marching for my gates, thinking he had something to prove?”

She simply pursed her lips, cool and composed, as if she hadn’t, with a few words, diverted the entire course of Sylas’s plan. “A bit of truth and a bit of pride can go a long way with a man like him. I thought you’d understand that.”

Her eyes flashed, calm yet watchful, and beneath her delicate, almost passive demeanour, there was a quiet ferocity that struck him. She had always worn her strength in the subtlest of ways, but in this moment, he saw her for what she truly was—a fierce, unyielding force wrapped in silks and cool smiles.

The words hit their mark—a subtle, artful dig, he had somehow overlooked.

“Why would I understand that?” Cregan’s voice was thick with mock offence, though a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Claere only arched a brow, sidestepping him with an elegance that was more of a dare than a retreat. “Oh, you’ve always had a certain… charm,” she replied, her tone deceptively light. “Men like you, like him—always so confident of their own strength. Pride blinds.”

“Pride blinds, is it? Huh, c'mere, girl. You dare speak to your lord that way?” he challenged, feigning a warning as he lunged forward, catching her around the waist. He lifted her clean off the floor with a mischievous groan, her soft laughter lilting as he spun her in a playful circle.

“Cregan!” Her laughter slipped out in breaths, both startled and, at last, easy, though her hands settled in half-protest against his shoulders. When he set her down, her cheeks were lightly flushed, her smile lingering. It was as if some sense of normality, away from the chaos, had come back into their lives.

“Guess it’s true then,” he murmured, his lips close to her ear. He urged a line of kisses from her ear to her throat, nuzzling his nose into the soft arch of her neck.

She slid her hands up to his neck, scraping her fingers lightly into the hair at his nape. "And you’re just stubborn enough to prove it.”

“I thought I’d married a princess with a pet dragon,” he teased, nuzzling into the soft curve of her neck, “but it seems I’ve got myself a queen with the cunning of a shadowcat.”

She raised a brow, almost daring him to press further. “And does that surprise you, my lord?”

His laughter boomed out, genuine and unrestrained, as he spun her again in a wide circle. "Not one damned bit."

X

Cregan stood tense in the night, sleep far from him, his silhouette sharp against the faint light filtering in from the slivered moon. The night air was thick with chilling doom, yet inside their chamber, Claere lay curled in quiet repose, her face softened by the kind of peacefulness that had eluded her during the day. It was almost bizarre, the way she could sleep so soundly amid the tension that hung over Winterfell. But perhaps, he thought, this chaos was the very place where she found her solace.

His gaze wandered to the heavy shadows beyond the walls, tracing the dark line of the woods against the horizon. The forests seemed to breathe with a life of their own, brimming with anticipation. He felt it ploughing on his chest, a premonition building like a slow storm.

Then it came—the steady, unmistakable drumming of many hooves and, seconds later, the crackling glow of fiery beacons lighting the night. The panic was quick, the sentries efficient, but somehow, Cregan had known. It was as though he’d been waiting for it all along.

He reached for Ice, his grip steady on the ancient sword’s hilt, and started toward the door. His stride displayed his finality, purposeful toward the death that came for him.

Sylas was here sooner than he’d expected, but in a way, the sooner, the better.

The crunch of hurried footsteps sounded from the corridor, and a guard approached, his face pale under the torchlight. “Lord Stark! Sylas the Grim… he’s come alone, my lord. Just rode up and called for you. What are your orders?”

Cregan’s eyes narrowed. The arrogance—or the conviction—it took to ride unguarded to Winterfell’s gates spoke of Sylas’s brutality and audacity, a message he knew all too well from his Free Folk brothers.

But then, a thought struck, clear as the northern wind. That meant Claere’s plan had worked—her brilliant, precarious little gamble had actually lured him here.

“Alone,” he murmured, almost to himself, and a fierce grin ghosted across his face. His clever Claere had managed to provoke the beast to come alone, his defences abandoned. Sylas had foolishly fallen for it.

With a calm that belied his steely resolve, Cregan replied to the guard, “Open the gates. If he came for a reckoning, then I’ll meet him myself.”

He felt the chill in his blood turn to iron as he stepped into the night.

X

thank you for reading! I'm so sad to be nearing the end :(

question for my loveliest people: who do you imagine as Sylas the Grim? I imagine someone with the same features (but nowhere as close in character) as Tormund Giantsbane.

[ taglist: @pearldaisy , @thatkindofgurl , @theadharablack , @cherryheairt , @beingalive1 , @oxymakestheworldgoround , @tigolebittiez , @cosmosnkaz , @lv7867 , @piper570 , @danikasthings , @acsc8 , @justdazzling ] -> thank you for your endless support everyone!

[aalien-s]

I cant stop thinking about trolls, specifically Floyd. Finally decided to just go wild and draw fanart. Im going insane over this little guy

HE IS THE SIZE OF MY FINGER

Pretty short theory/rant under cut

I also really love the idea that he’s been hanging out with the rock trolls since the brothers separated. It could even kinda make sense. His looks kinda remind me of something you could see a rock troll looking like, just mess up his hair a bit. Ofc he has wayy too bright colors to be a rock troll, but he was born as a pop troll. (I can just imagine how much he would stand out oml.) Not to mention, Prince D said in the second movie that trolls can enjoy more than just one type of music. He was also apparently kidnapped 2 months prior to the movie, and the second movie was just a week before the third, meaning Floyd had been missing for 1 month and 3 weeks by the time of the second movie. Someone would probably try to look for him, but after a while of no signs they could’ve just assumed him dead and given up. By the time of the movie the rock trolls wouldn’t even think to ask anyone of the other tribes about him, because he’d been missing for a while and because the whole rock-apocalypse was going on. Only reason i can see it not working is if the rock trolls were against any type of music the entire time and either would’ve just kicked him out or forced him to only play rock (which i don’t believe Floyd would be able to do). Really going into theory mode here: Floyd showing up could be what made Queen Barb find out about the other tribes and first get the idea of the world tour, but only starting to plan it after Floyd disappears and they fail to find him.

I would also love if this was true and every time Floyd plays rock music he gets aggressive and scares the sht out of his brothers lol.

I literally came up with the oc as i drew this, i just wanted some random guy for the pose and suddenly i had a character. He’s just someone that basically clung himself to Floyd immediately when he got to the village. Bro’s kind of a bully but he’s also a loser. (Just wanna say I’m not the type of person that ships ocs with canon, and i’m not doing it here) They end up having a sort of rivalry, as Floyd gets better at Rock and manages to mix it with his pop, he gets a bit popular. Meanwhile Brick has never really tried to gain an audience, but when Floyd gets followers and Brick was already challenging him, he ultimately gets some attention too. They sort of team up and become a duo, but they ensure that they’re still rivals. Inevitable though, they become friends, hang out a lot, sing and dance, like normal trolls. Brick teaches Floyd some specific things about rock and Floyd tells him about his tribe and brothers. Brick would be the devastated when Floyd got kidnapped and would be the last to stop searching. (Never stopped hoping he was alive though). Of course though, he is a rock troll and theres no way he would show how much he cares about Floyd.

Im currently working on colored designs of Brick and Rock!Floyd

[oh-no-its-bird]

I kind of ended up w a small pile of Hatake ocs and lore to fill the early konoha timeline void, and a big thing is like. They all die to preserve the narrative. A lot of them very young bc again, made to fill the time line, so logically, there had to be some Hatake kids/teenagers who met an unfortunate end.

So I'm kinda sitting here considering a 4 part fic where each chapter revolves around a specific Hatake and their inevitable death, w maybe a bonus chapter at the end being about Sakumo

"Death of the Wolves," the unfortunate end of the Hatake's, told in 4 parts

The Hatake's helped set the Konoha standard rule of "a team can only be made up of so many % of one clan" (with special exceptions) after a large chunk of them got sent on a mission together bc of their specializations and all wound up dead, wiping out a solid 90% of the clan in one night.

Actually, expanding on that bc the tragedy is so good -> I already established that in my time line, the Hatake head, Haruka (Sakumo's mother, Tobirama and Hashirama's aunt) died under a week after Tobirama's death, and she would have lead that failed mission. Does that mean one of Hiruzen's first acts as war time Hokage resulted in the accidental slaughter of his beloved dead Sensei's mother's clan? That's amazing actually, so much drama there. I bet him Danzo and Kagami argued like crazy after that monumental fuck up, probably went on to define how he feels ab being Hokage / what that entails. Fun times!

Anyways, I'd also be very interested in exploring early konoha politics n stuff. Especially from the multiple views of not the people in charge of making the village but the ones who are living in it. The view from the ground up, instead of looking down from the tower. The younger generations being brought to this new village, going from their isolated clan lands to suddenly being surrounded by others their age from different clans, possible for the first time ever depending on their age and their clans level of secrecy.

Also, I really wanna poke at the outsider pov of Madara and other founders— but mostly Madara bc I find his downfall very fun to think about, especially from the POV of someone not in his clan.

I'm so in love w the take of the Hatake's being fond of Madara bc "he'd make a very good Hatake." Something about the two tropes of the Uchiha being a clan that loves love and the Hatake being a clan w similar values when it comes to family and loyalty just meshes so well.

Comedy moment where Haruka is weirdly insistent on Madara potentially marrying into the clan, not even for the politics or anything but specifically bc she NEEDS a cute squishy Hatake baby with his massive hair. She NEEDS IT, MADARA.

Anyways also just the early konoha inter clan drama but like. From the eyes of the clan kids. The Uchiha kids seem to be having some sort of terf war with the Senju— but it was interrupted by the Hyuuga, and now the Senju and Uchiha kids are somehow banding together against the Hyuuga? But oh no now the Nara kids are teaming up w the Hyuuga, and the Hatake kid (singular bc there's literally only like 1) seems to have an actual blood feud going on with the Hyuuga clan heir— but the older Hatake teenagers are fond of the Hyuuga's baby clan heir so it's just a mess. All the clan drama but with none of the tragedy bc everyone involved is a child.

Meanwhile the older clan members are somehow bonding over their children's fights bc they're all struggling to pull them away, or going "what the fuck do you mean you teamed up with the SENJU??" Then sharing a disbelieving Look(tm) w the opposing Senju's parents before realizing what they just did and having a crisis of faith ab it

Meanwhile the teenagers are having a wonderful time, especially those from smaller more isolated clans like the Hatake. There's so much romantic drama, there's probably a whole shinobi soap opera happening in that direction. Hormonal shinobi teenagers from opposing clans just got dropped into the same dating pool it's gonna be a MESSSS.

Even funnier if you take crumbs from my senju weed empire au and like. Some of these clans regularly smoke n stuff. Meanwhile other clans have never touched a psychedelic in their life. Some are especially vulnerable to drugs due to heightened senses (Orochi, Inuzuka, Hatake) while others have been smoking since they were younger and have an insane tolerance and very much distorted views of a reasonable amount of weed to smoke (Senju, Nara, Shiranui) There is no way in hell that goes well. Someone is going to get fucked up in a MAJOR way.

Well-intentioned Nara accidentally gets a bunch of dog wired guys and one snake high out of their fucking minds, the high lasts a full week for some of them and one sometimes wonders if they ever really came down from it

Anyways I got a bit off track but yeah! Early Konoha fic that revolves around the daily lives of differently aged Hatake ocs, taking a look from different angles of Konoha and all the silly clan drama and daily lives of an early Konoha shinobi— each chapter being different degrees of generally lighthearted, but ending in the Hatake's death. The fact that each Hatake is in with a different crowd and is a different age would make it even more fun and easier to explore the different layers Konoha has to offer! It's for sure on my list of things I wanna write

(Also I'd really love to have it just so I can point to it as a good introduction for my Hatake ocs. I love tricking people into learning ab my ocs it's great)

[itsagoodluckkiss]

I Know The End

Pairings: Roronoa Zoro x f!reader, platonic strawhats x f!reader

Summary: This is based on one of my favorite songs, I Know The End by Phoebe Bridgers, and I take the meaning of this song as a "when you're at the bottom, the only way is up" kind of song. Reader is a friend of Nami, she has air powers and joins the Strawhats after they help her save her town.

Warnings: Mild East Blue spoilers, kinda OC Zoro, typical OP violence, otherwise pure fluff, no use of Y/N

WC: 3.7κ

A/N: Oi, hello there! This is my first One Piece fanfic, took me a bit more than I expected but I did it! I have another one for my first request on the way, but since this is my first, I had to post one about my fave! Also, I'm sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language. Anyways, hope you enjoy it, and if you do, pretty please leave a comment! Requests are open! ❤️

“I’m not gonna go down with my hometown in a tornado, I’m gonna chase it. I gotta go now, I know. Driving out into the sun, let the ultraviolet cover me up. Went looking for a creation myth, ended up with a pair of cracked lips… A slaughterhouse, an outlet mall, slot machines, fear of God… Big bolt of lightning hanging low. Over the coast everyone’s convinced it’s a government drone or an alien spaceship.”

Feeling out of place is something you get used to when living in this part of the East Blue and seek adventure; it is called the weakest sea for some reason after all. Even if she loved her living place, she disliked the fact that people mostly minded their own business without blinking an eye to the suffering and corruption around them. She couldn’t entirely blame them; it wasn’t an easy thing caring about neighboring regions when your own was constantly hit by natural disasters, causing deaths and lifetime labors destroyed.

She had just learned that the Conomi Islands had been freed by Arlong’s cruel rule after eight whole years. She wondered how Nami was. They had met a couple of years ago when she caught her rummaging her family’s vault and helped her through it without getting her caught. She hid her in her room while the Navy was looking for the thief. She didn’t need the money and it was obvious to her that Nami did. Nami was her first real friend. The week they spent together, drinking and getting to know each other, talking about their backstories, their wants and plans for the future was the best in her life. She had promised that after she’d buy her village back and free it, she’d come to see her again. She hadn’t heard from Nami since.

They said it was because of the Marines the islands were liberated. She could never believe that for one second. Her curious personality always managed to get her into the Navy’s business, making her family’s influence and prestige on the island take a hit every time she got into trouble with them. She couldn’t help that all this talk from the Marines about justice and keeping the peace made her want to throw up on their shiny uniforms. She knew it was all an act for them and their allies to maintain power. How could Marines talk about values when regions and people were enslaved and the Navy turned a blind eye instead of helping, just for power and some berries?

Her dream was to end all that fake order and bring actual freedom to those in need; to become a freedom fighter and help people. She needed the right opportunity but also, she had to take advantage of every situation if she wanted to get away from that place someday and seek what she so wholeheartedly craved. So she learned her family’s secrets and strengths. It’s not every day you see generations of people knowing how to yield the air around them, giving them a bunch of abilities like flying or sucking the air out of their enemies’ lungs or causing hurricanes of every size. She knew when to play nice and be obedient so that her parents would teach her their ways, thinking that she would grow out of her rebellious phase, would learn about and protect her family’s rule. It’s not an easy task for them to cover up the Navy’s dirt on the island after all.  

The more she mastered her power, the more she could see that something was wrong with her family. She had started to notice the patterns. Every time the island was hit by a storm or a natural disaster, they were never home. At first, it would make sense that they’d go and help their people. Then, after the storms, her island’s Navy unit and its captain started collecting “taxes” for rebuilding the infrastructures. Thing was, the taxes would constantly go up, bringing inhabitants to their knees. Meanwhile, her family didn’t seem affected at all. They would just roam the island, giving advices and pacifying the angry voices that protested the Navy. So, she decided, in the next hurricane, she would learn her parents and older siblings’ sketchy business. She had to know what was the cause of all this and what she could do to change it.

~

Meeting new people travelling between islands and seas was a fascinating thing. She loved hearing stories about their adventures, about different places and bigger dangers, fights between pirates and marines or about the golden age of piracy. About the Grand Line, the different weather conditions in each island, the devil fruits and the abilities they gave their users. She would always wander through the port, looking for more myths coming to life by the sailors that docked their ships on her island for supplies.

When she spotted a beautiful pirate caravel, with a sheep figurehead in its bow and its Jolly Roger with a straw hat, docked in their port, she felt a strange wave of excitement and peace. She couldn’t explain it but that beautiful ship radiated so much love and care, like it had a soul of its own and a smile that made everyone feel like home if they stepped into it. She stood there, admiring it from afar, when she felt someone standing next to her.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she? Her name is Merry! She’s my ship.”

She turned to look at the stranger. A boy around the same age as hers, with a small scar under his right eye and a straw hat on his head, and that made her assume this was the captain. He had a smile so vibrant, it reminded her of the sun. His energy was so welcoming, she felt like she could be friends with him on a whim.

“Hello. She is indeed a sight to behold.”

She gave him a warm smile back, raising her hand to introduce herself.

“That’s a pretty name. I’m Luffy, and I’m gonna be King Of The Pirates!”

She couldn’t help but laugh, but it had no malice. She loved dreamers, being one herself, and even if she met that boy only a couple of minutes ago, she could see he would give everyone in the world a run for their money. A gust of wind blew, taking his hat away, and before he could react, she brought it back to him through the air around her. She placed it on his head and gave him a toothy grin.

“There! You can’t be King Of The Pirates without your trademark, right?”

“THANK YOU! YOU’VE GOT AIR POWERS? THAT’S SO COOL! YOU SHOULD JOIN OUR CREW!”

She was dumbfounded by his enthusiasm and his abrupt proposal. Never had she met anyone like him, so thrilled by her presence and her little air tricks. Before she could reply, she heard footsteps and another male voice behind her.

“Oi Luffy, stop scaring people by asking them to join us like that, will you?”

She turned to look at the deeper voice, and for a moment it felt like lighting coursing through her veins. Taller and more muscular than the boy next to her, he looked a bit older than them both, with short green hair and eyes gray as steel, three golden earrings that gleamed in the sunlight graced his left ear. He had a sharp gaze that radiated a strong and confident energy, one that lacked fear or hesitation. She never believed in love at first sight, but this felt as close as she could imagine it would feel. The man approached them and introduced himself to her.

“Roronoa Zoro? As in ‘Pirate Hunter’ Zoro? In a pirate crew?”

Of course she had heard of his reputation. Who didn’t know the infamous bounty hunter swordsman in the East Blue? He chuckled at her surprise.

“Yeah, well, long story short, this guy here has an effect of convincing people easily.”

“There you are, you idiots! We’ve been looking for you everywhere! We’re not here for me to babysit you not getting lost, we’re here to find my-”

She heard a familiar female shriek before she felt soft arms around her, squeezing her tight, and she immediately knew who it was. She could never forget her best friend’s hugs. She returned the hug as she screamed Nami’s name, before they both started to cry tears of joy. Her hand grabbed her upper arm, and she felt deep scars where her Arlong tattoo should be but was replaced by another, prettier one.

“I was so worried about you! I learned what happened to your village and I didn’t know what to think!”

“You should have known I’d be okay, you know I always pull through. Although, these guys were the greatest help I could get. They are the reason I’m freed and I wanted to keep my promise to you.”

She looked at the boys around them with gratitude, two more joining them, a blond boy wearing a suit, who looked like he would burst into flames from the heart eyes on his face and another one with wavy hair, a long nose and mischief in his eyes.

“I can’t thank you enough for helping my friend. She means the world to me!”

“Whoa, Nami’s your friend? Now you should definitely join our crew! We’ve heard so much about you, the only reason we stopped here before Loguetown was to find you!” Luffy said with enthusiasm.

“Yes, it’s not every day you hear someone born into money giving them away without question, hiding the thief in addition and fighting their way to get them out safely. You must be quite the character.” Zoro smirked at her.

“And to add to that, you’re also a sight to behold, my lady!” the blond boy said as he kissed her hand and introduced himself as Sanji, making her laugh at his advances.

“We’ve heard you have a great mind for plans too. Could use a strategist in this group of idiots that run into danger head on. I always device a plan to beat my enemies. I’m Usopp by the way.”

She was dumbfounded to say the least, taking them all and their kind words in. She met these guys a few moments ago, yet never had she felt such a feeling of being so welcomed by the people around her, she was so used to being ignored that this interaction almost made her sob. She kissed Nami’s cheek before letting her go.

“I… thank you guys… you’re all so sweet… but I don’t think I’m that good-”

“Bullshit, you’ll be the smartest person besides me in this crew. Come on now, I know how much you long to get the hell out of this place, they’ve never appreciated you anyways, and I don’t think anything changed since we met.” Nami proclaimed, smiling at her.

“No… not much anyway. I just learned how to use my powers now… Look, I don’t know what to think of this, I have-”

A loud rumble shook the earth below them. She felt the temperature drop rapidly and she knew what was coming. Now was her chance to find out the truth she looked for, the one that could possibly make her decide to cut ties with her family if her speculations were true. She turned to the Strawhats, as they called themselves, and smiled brightly.

“Thank you guys. But I have to run now. There are rooms for rent down this road, run and cover yourselves and don’t come out before the storm passes. Maybe I’ll see you around after that.”

As they started to protest, she flew off to the source of the hurricane she could see coming from afar.

And sure enough, the feeling of throwing up from disgust and despair overwhelmed her when she arrived at the source. She saw her family controlling the hurricanes and lightings that hit her island, and the Navy captain, who she knew was a devil fruit user, was shaking the ground, causing the earthquake, while his Unit watched from the sidewalks. Bodies were scattered around damaged buildings, scenery of pure horror. Before she could react to stop this, she felt boulders hitting her, splitting her lips and bruising her body, blood running down her jaw as she fell down.

~

Logically, everything fell into place. Emotionally, nothing made sense. She couldn’t comprehend how she could have been raised by such cruel people. Her eyes welled up with tears, but not from the pain she felt on her body, but from the sight in front of her, as her parents approached her, proclaiming she was not mature enough to understand their family’s best interest and how she has always been such a disappointment, never listening, never following orders, an annoying, meddling child.

“Do whatever you want; we can’t do anything about her anymore.” Her parents proclaimed to the navy captain as he too approached.

“You’ve always been a pain in the ass and I can finally get rid of you.” The captain proclaimed as he unsheathed his sword.

She closed her eyes but she never felt the blade on her skin. The captain’s scream echoed as his arm got cut off from the shoulder, his sword hitting the ground.

“Swords are not toys, captain. You don’t get to play with them.”

Her head spin to the male voice behind her and her eyes widen as she saw the five pirates ready to fight. Zoro was the closest to her, having drawn one of his swords that was now covered in blood, leaving a clean cut on the marine’s shoulder. Usopp was standing a few feet behind, a slingshot in his hand as he shoot at the navy soldiers, the collision ended in blasts and the soldiers started to run away. Nami was holding a strange, long, steel pole that seemed by its use to control the weather around them with air bubbles.

“You’re not hurting a lady on my watch.” Sanji proclaimed before his leg collided with the bleeding captain’s face, kicking him to the ground.

“He was already done, curlybrows.”

“Shut your mouth, marimo!”

They were bickering as if they all were not in a life or death situation. The most shocking thing was Luffy, who was stretching his body as he was wielding what seemed to be the bark of a tree around, taking soldiers and her family with it.

“Nami said you had problems with your family. You seemed worried. So we followed you.” He said with a toothy grin.

Zoro grabbed her hand and raised her from the ground.

“You know how to fight I assume?”

“Yes I do.”

“Well then, let’s give them hell, pretty girl.”

~

Either way, we’re not alone. I’ll find a new place to be from. A haunted house with a picket fence, to float around and ghost my friends. I’m not afraid to disappear. The billboard said "The End Is Near". I turned around, there was nothing there. Yeah, I guess the end is here.”

And sure enough, she couldn’t believe the six of them managed to stop the destruction while fighting the whole navy unit and her family combined, who were now running away from the angry crowd that had assembled when the hurricanes stopped and saw the whole thing happening.

“You guys… I can’t thank you enough-”

“Pffff, that was nothing, it was funny being blown away, felt like flying hehe.” Luffy laughed as he grabbed her in a hug. “You’re Nami’s friend, so you are our friend too!”

She had started crying by now as she hugged Luffy back, the feelings she felt in that moment couldn’t be described.

“I think… I think I’ll join you guys!”

~

A week had passed since her family fled off the island that was now filled with marines who listed the damages and arrested their own dirty kind. They had made a futile attempt to take the strawhats in, and before they would even start a fight, the people of the island wreaked havoc, not even letting them close to their saviors. She took the crew in the house that was now hers.

She helped Nami move all the gold from the house onto their ship. She gave Usopp advices for his trinkets and how they would fly through the air easier. She cooked with Sanji and then would catalog the storages that would be taken with them to their journey, with Luffy receiving several kicks from the cook because he tried to eat everything. She had never had so much fun in her life as she had with them. Her favorite moments came at night, usually spent drinking with Zoro. They had talked about their childhoods, he had told her about his family how died when he was a toddler, his promise to his childhood friend who died way before her time, how he acquired that big scar across his chest. The more she got to know him, the more connected she felt to him, like a final puzzle piece falling right in to place.

On their last night, everyone was fast asleep, getting the rest they’d need since they would cross the entrance to the Grand Line the next day. But her anticipation wouldn’t let her sleep. After tossing and turning for what seemed like hours, she got off her bed and walked around the house, taking it in one last time. She had decided to gift it to a large family whose home got destroyed. It was a fact that she didn’t want anything to do with that place anymore. Tomorrow morning her life would change forever. Her mind leading her nowhere in particular, she walked to her terrace. The wind, soft and gentle, rustled through the leaves of the trees, creating a soothing melody, and she could see the sea ahead, illuminated by the moon, which casted a silvery glow on the water. It was a peaceful scene, yet she could feel her heart racing when she saw Zoro sitting on the bench of her terrace, polishing his swords. 

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” he asked as he glanced at her.

“I… I guess I’m nervous about tomorrow.”

“It must be a little overwhelming, I guess. Don’t worry though, we’re a good crew, we’ll take care of you.”

A small smile played on his lips. His words were reassuring, but there was something else in his tone, something that made her heart skip a beat. She bit her lip, walking to the edge of the terrace, her hands holding on to the railing as she tried to find the right words to say.

“I know I’ll be safe with you, guys. It’s just… it feels like the end is near for me in this place… and being in a pirate crew is going to be something so new and big… and I don’t feel like I bring a lot on the table…”

He chuckled softly as he placed his swords down, walking towards to stand next to her, taking her hand in his to give a firm squeeze.

“The end is near for this part of your life, indeed. But you’re strong, you’re brave, and you’re a great fighter. You’ve been through a lot and yet you’re one of the kindest people I’ve met, still standing here, ready to face whatever comes next. That takes a lot of courage, and it takes character. I think you bring a lot, and you’re going to fit right in with us. You’re not alone.”

She smiled shyly, feeling warmth spread through her chest, her eyes almost welling up. He smiled back, his expression genuine.

“Thank you, Zoro. You really have no idea how much that means.”

“I think I do. I know what it’s like to be uncertain about the future, to feel like you don’t belong anywhere. But you belong with us now. You’re going to make a great crewmate. It’s good to have you on board. I have a feeling you’re going to surprise all of us with what you can do.” He paused, his expression a bit more serious. “And… if you need to talk… or vent or… anything… I’m here.”

A deep blush crept up across her cheeks. “I… thank you… for everything. Same goes for me.”

She felt her heart flutter as he continued to hold her hand, her stare moving to meet his gaze. She couldn’t help but feel more at ease with him and he couldn’t deny the way he felt either.

“For now, I think we should just enjoy being together and explore this new thing we’ll find ourselves in. Who knows what kind of trouble we’ll stumble upon?”

“I’m looking forward to seeing what awaits us.” She leaned a bit closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “And I’m looking forward to get to know you better too.”

It was time for his heart to skip a beat at her words. Her eyes widened but before she could shy away, he leaned in closer, and their lips met in a tender, hesitant kiss, a slow, gentle brushing of lips. The sounds of the forest faded away, leaving only the beating of their hearts and the rush of blood in their ears.

~

“Take care!”

“Come back soon!”

“Sorry I was mean to you, can’t wait to see you again!”

“Be safe and make us proud!”

“Don’t disappear!”

Most of the town’s people were at the port to give their regards to the strawhats and her. The others were already abroad, her being the last to climb the rope ladder on to her new home. She turned around before hoping on to the deck, and took in how weird and eerie her town looked now, like looking at a haunted house from afar.

“So, the end is near, then?”

She lifted her head to see Zoro’s smirk as he gave her his hand to lift her on to the ship. Someone shouted at her to not disappear. She wasn’t afraid of that. She was afraid of staying still. Her head turned around one last time and she saw nothing there.

“Yeah, I guess, the end is here.”

And she took his hand.

[eds-gryff]

The Weight of Beauty

Edmund Pevensie x Reader

(Requested by @popsixsquish

‘Could I perhaps request some Edmund comforting an insecure reader?’

Again, very sorry it took me over a year to finally get to this! 😬)

A/N: So, this is kind of a confession- I write all my requests and x Reader one-shots with my OC, Sanya, in mind. I write her name and her country and her hair colour, and then I change it to Y/N, etc, after I finish writing.

If you would like, I have a four-part Narnia series on my Wattpad, which is Edmund x (plus-size, POC) Original Character; it is called The Alliance Series (‘Alliance’, ‘The Heirs’, ‘Moonshine’, and ‘Fairytale?’, with ‘Sultana’ as a companion AU), which you might enjoy! If you enjoyed my fics here, and if you liked the Y/N in them, you’ll love Sanya as well as her relationship with Edmund. The marriage and overall background of Edmund and Y/N in this fic are actually based off Edmund and Sanya in Alliance!

Here is the link to my Wattpad⤵

A/N2: You know, I am personally very insecure myself and I am pretty chubby, so writing this down was actually rather cathartic. I’m not madly in love with Edmund like I was when I was sixteen (when I started writing The Alliance Series, btw), but it is still quite comforting to write one of my favourite characters being so complimentary and sweet about something most people are not.

Anyway-

Y/N= Your Name, Y/C/N= Your Country's Name, Y/N/n= Your Nickname, Y/H/C= Your Hair Colour, Y/E/C= Your Eye Colour. Reader is plus-size.

Happy Reading!

---

Y/N knew she had a terrible expression on her face as she strode back to her bedchambers, and she knew it wasn’t the most fitting expression for a Queen whose main work that day had been a diplomatic excursion- but she could not help it! She was usually very good at hiding her innermost emotions, but today had simply gone too far.

“Ugh.” Was the first word- or, sound?- that left her lips as she shut- rather violently- the door of the bedchamber. She let her feet carry her to the large canopy bed that stood in the center of the room, and she immediately fell back on it, absolutely uncaring how it would mess up the hair that her maid had carefully arranged. She couldn’t care less about what she looked like in this moment.

And then she let out a hacking laugh at the irony. This whole predicament was because she cared too much about what she looked like.

After a few minutes- or perhaps hours, Y/N did not know, she was prone to dissociating from reality- she heard the door open. If it had been any other room, she would’ve sat up quickly, ready to fight if it was an intruder, but there was only one other person with the key for this room- and thus, it could only be one person to be coming in the bedchamber currently, for it was his bedroom as much as hers.

Her husband, King Edmund the Just.

“Y/N/n.” Edmund’s tone was rather humorous, and Y/N felt the urge to throw a pillow at him. “I know you are prone to sleeping in, but didn’t you have a diplomatic tour today? With- Terabinthia?”

Curse his good memory.

She made a sound that resembled Troll, but thankfully Edmund knew her well enough to know that she was simply affirming his question.

“Did the delegation not arrive? I am sorry I could not be with you,” Edmund sat down next to his wife, and smiled when she automatically held her hand out to him, which he clasped in his, “but the matter with the villagers took all day. Lucy is still there, I only had to return for a courtier needed a signature very urgently.”

Thankfully, Susan had already signed for it by the time he’d reached, and so he had made his way to his bedchambers instead, for some rest and relaxation.

“They arrived.” Y/N mumbled, eyes closed. She did feel slightly better, though, just the simple act of her husband holding her hand was a comfort. “And they left.”

“Already? Good for you, my antisocial darling.”

She felt the corners of her mouth lift despite herself.

But she said, “I made them leave.”

“Er- not a diplomatic action, that.”

“No, husband, not like that.” Though, she had done that many times before. She was absolutely not the royal who was the first choice for such missions. “They were too embarrassed, so they excused themselves after an hour. Because of me.”

The Just King’s brows furrowed, “Why were they embarrassed?”

She did not answer, but she did open her eyes. Edmund’s chocolate-brown eyes looked down at her, concern and some amusement in them, and she let out a sigh.

“Don’t you wish you were married to someone thin?”

There were not many things or people that caught Edmund off-guard, but his wife was very much an exception, as he learned more and more ever day.

As such, he could only say, “What?”

Sluggishly, the Queen sat up, “Well, you didn’t want to marry me.”

“You didn’t want to marry me, either.” Edmund pointed out immediately. Their marriage had been arranged, part of a political alliance between Narnia and Y/C/N, Y/N’s land. The bride and groom had not been pleased. “And we both loathed the state of our marriage for the first few months.”

This was true. Y/N- who had been titled the Y/N/T not long after this hated wedding- had actually taken to hiding in the Stables to avoid her husband.

Then things had changed and evolved, and they had spent time together and grown closer- and now, now she was so besotted and in love with him, she felt like one half of a couple from some dramatic romance novel.

And she was rather sure he felt the same way.

“Well, yes. But I was attracted to you from the beginning, you know. You are so beautiful, husband. If there is any human worthy of the title of the God of beauty, it is you.” Her voice was soft, and Edmund almost instinctively moved closer to her. “I may have hated you and our marriage, but the saving grace was your beauty and your respectfulness. Oh, and your freckles.”

The accent didn’t hurt, either.

He grinned, “Oh, speak on, please. I am enjoying this turn of conversation very much.”

To her surprise, she laughed out loud, “Of course you are.”

But it seemed she had spoken too soon, for at the same time, Edmund had spoken, “But I would like to finish the previous topic first. What was that about me wanting a thin spouse?”

“Um.” Y/N was regretting saying that suddenly. She was not one to bare her innermost emotions and thoughts often, unless it was in a diary. “Nothing.”

“Y/N.”

Oh, it really was serious if he was calling her by not a pet-name.

“What exactly happened with the Terabinthian delegation?”

The Queen groaned, and fell back in bed again.

“Your Majesty!” The head of the Terabinthian delegation, came over to the carriage in front of which Y/N stood. Curtseying, she spoke, “I am the Duchess of Terabinthia.”

She curtseyed as well, “The Y/N/T Queen, at your service.” While in Narnia, she preferred to use the epithet awarded to her because of her marriage to a Narnian King. If this had been her country, she’d have called herself the High Queen of Y/C/N. “Welcome to Narnia.”

“Thank you verily for making the time to meet us. We are grateful.”

“No need for gratitude, it was our honour.” Y/N said, wishing she could go home already. Why had Peter assigned her to do this? He knew she hated this- oh, that must be exactly why. She was absolutely going to bonk her brother-in-law on the head with her sword the next time they had a duel. “We are most glad you visited Narnia on your tour. And Y/C/N is next, I believe? I will make sure you have the best guide for your travel in my country.”

The Duchess bowed her head in gratitude, and her eyes widened.

“Oh, I did not know! My most heartfelt congratulations.”

Y/N blinked, “Thank you, but for what?”

Yes, she had new shoes on- not by her choice, but her most comfortable pair had actually fallen apart- but that wasn’t something to be congratulated upon.

“You are expecting! It has not been announced, as far as I know, so that must be why you are surprised.” Her face broke in a wide smile, and she did not notice as the Queen’s face withered. “You and King Edmund must be over the Moon.”

Y/N could not say anything. What could she say? That, no, she wasn’t pregnant, she was simply fat. That, no, her breasts had not grown because they would soon nurse a child, but because she had always been ample? That, no, the weight around her middle was not because there was a babe in her womb, but because she was unhealthy and unfit and always had been?

“How far are you along, Your Majesty? I imagine it must be the second trimester- Your Majesty?” The Duchess’s smile faltered. “Is everything- is all well?”

“Yes.” She had to be gracious, diplomatic. She could take off her new shoe and throw it at her, or go hide in her carriage and have a breakdown like she was a teenager again. “But I am not with child, my Duchess, my husband and I have yet to be blessed in that way. I am simply- this is simply how I am.”

The other woman’s eyes widened, and she took a nervous glance back, to the rest of the delegation, who were surely wondering what was taking so long.

“I am so- I cannot apologise enough, Your Majesty, I had no idea- I thought that, because of what you- because you are- I- forgive me.”

“Yes.” Y/N said, though she did not. It wasn’t the Duchess’s fault, she was fat, she knew, which was not common among royalty or nobility.

Still, she couldn’t help but harbour a grudge.

“Well. Shall we on?”

“Oh, I will be sending them a very strongly worded letter.” Edmund said, his face even paler than usual and his eyes burning with anger. Who in their right mind would speak to his beautiful, wonderful, courageous wife in such a way? “How dare-”

“Because it’s the truth. I am fat.” Y/N said, and looked down at herself. She was still garbed in exactly what she had been wearing then. “I can’t even tell myself that she misunderstood because I was bundled up in a cloak and shawl- I wasn’t and am not.”

It was a warm day, in summer. She’d worn a gown with cap-sleeves that the Royal Tailor had recently delivered, with intricate embroidery in an art style belonging to her homeland around the hemline, bodice, and sleeves. It was scarlet and purple and gold, and she had liked it, even loved it, but now she did not think she’d ever wear it again.

Not to mention, she was no beauty, but at least the jewels and crown distracted from the ugliness of her face.

“Y/N/n, you aren’t-”

“Oh, please. You have seen me naked enough times to know I speak the truth!”

He had seen, felt, touched the pudginess of her stomach, the curvy rolls around her sides. He’d gripped her thick thighs, he’d kissed them, and he’d slid his fingers over the dark-red stretch-marks that were present all over her body- her flabby arms, her fat thighs, her plump sides.

She squeezed her eyes shut, “I hate feeling like this. I know my weight does not equal my worth, I know it doesn’t matter that I’m ugly, and I know getting so upset is utterly stupid, but I cannot help it.”

She had felt insecure about her body for as long as she could remember. Even as a child, as one with little care for anything but her playthings, she remembered how she’d been upset when a pretty outfit gifted to her did not fit her, or when she’d preferred to wear something oversized to conceal her heaviness. Granted, no healer had ever said she, then the Princess, was overweight, simply that she was healthy and stout- but when compared to the slender, picturesque folk around her, she had felt and still felt like an elephant in silk.

“How could you not want someone thin- someone beautiful? Someone- someone who’s not me.”

Edmund felt rather at a loss. He always knew what to say, how to take charge of a conversation, how to keep the other person calm- but he felt utterly speechless in the moment. His oft-praised silver-tongue had all but disappeared.

But he knew one thing- he did not agree with his wife.

“My darling.” He lay down beside her as well, and pulled her to him, nestled in his arms. He felt a soft breath of comfort escape her lips, and he was glad. “You say you were attracted to me the moment we met?”

Y/N nodded, hiding her face in his chest, “Even more so when I heard your accent.”

He held back a laugh, and went on, “And you know how I felt when I saw you?”

She shook her head, her Y/H/C hair falling over his blue-and-grey tunic, and Edmund berated himself for never telling her this before.

“I was mesmerised.” He said softly, so softly that Y/N had to look up, her Y/E/C eyes wide. “I would say enchanted, for that would be very true, but you know I have a rather difficult past with enchantments, so let’s stick to mesmerised. I could not take my eyes off you.”

Y/N muttered something that was probably ‘because of the corset’, but her cheeks were on fire.

Admittedly, his wife’s breasts had been rather pushed up and obvious because of the corset she’d worn under her outfit during their first meeting- and, yes, Edmund had not been able to stop himself from blatantly staring for a few seconds- but he was not speaking of that.

“You were rolling your eyes as you were formally announced-”

Almost predictably, she rolled her eyes again, and her husband did laugh softly this time.

“And I remember you were holding onto your own arm, as if comforting yourself, as if reminding yourself to be strong.” He spoke, dipping his head to press a kiss to her forehead. “Just by those two actions, you had my respect and my admiration, and then your beauty had my enthrallment as well.”

“Edmund...”

“You may not be what utterly vapid folk all over the world consider to the epitome of beauty,” which he absolutely did not, “but that did not stop me from thinking you to be the goddess of my dreams.”

She pressed her body closer to his, almost instinctively, as if her very skin wanted to be nearer to him.

“A thought I still have every single day.”

Emotion sparkled in her eyes.

“Really?”

And she still doubted him. Of course.

“Yes.”

“Even though I’m fat, and lumbering, and don’t even get me started on my nose-”

He wanted to throw a pillow at her, but restrained himself to saying, “Would you do me a favour?”

“I would die and kill for you, Edmund.” Y/N gave her husband a fond look. After what he had just said- oh, she had not thought she could have loved him any more than she already had, but she did! So, so much. She wanted to kiss him already. “Yes, of course, what is it?”

Edmund’s lips curved, “Could I undress you?”

Well, she would never be saying no to that.

She nodded, far too excited yet far beyond caring about seeming pathetic- and, soon enough, Edmund’s clever fingers were undoing laces and pulling down fabric and ghosting over her bare skin.

Once she was naked, Y/N reached for her husband, to make the situation equal, but he took her hands in his instead, before she could grip and tear at his tunic.

“What?” She asked impatiently. She wasn’t insecure in front of him anymore, she hadn’t been in years, not since the first time they had made love. All she thought when she was nude around him, was that she wanted him to be that way as well. “Let me undress you already, so we can-”

“That’s not what I meant.” He said, his freckled cheeks blushing. His wife cocked her head at him, and he elaborated, “I want you to know something- see something.”

Her eyes narrowed, “If you’re going to stand me in front of the mirror to look at my bare body, I will get my sword right now and tear your limbs instead of your clothes.”

Edmund’s intentions may be noble, but there was nothing Y/N hated the sight of more than her ungainly figure in the mirror.

Except vegetable mash. Ugh.

Ah, how delightfully murderous his darling wife was. Her country and his own was lucky to have her.

“No, no.” And he lay Y/N down on their bed, her hands clasped under her breasts, and she was giving him with a quizzical look the entire time.

He climbed carefully on top of her, half-covering her body with his, and pretended he didn’t notice Y/N rolling her hips against a part of his body that was extremely fond of his wife and extremely susceptible to her- to her everything.

“I want you to know exactly how I see you- and, hopefully, one day, via you gaining some sense or via osmosis or whatever, you’ll see it, too.”

What was osmosis?

Y/N was about to ask, but her words and her breath was stolen when she felt Edmund’s kisses on the space between her breasts.

But his hands were not on her breasts, as she’d hoped- they were on her plump upper arms, and he was speaking in a whisper to the hollow of her throat, “I see these as strength. I see these as proof that you are the most skilled swordsperson I know, the strongest person I know.”

His hands wandered down her arms to the pudgy rolls of her stomach, and Y/N squirmed. She could not help but think she was glad she had missed breakfast and had yet to have lunch, otherwise she’d be even fatter.

But Edmund was not thinking about her diet, he was speaking, still in that soft, reverential tone, “You call these pudgy, you think this is fat? Even if it is, I don’t care. Because I see this as you being healthy, as a sign that you will be with me for a long, long time, that you won’t be snatched away from me by cruel disease or anything like that.”

“Never.” Y/N vowed breathlessly- she would never leave him, she would fight time itself if necessary. “We’ll always be together.”

His response was a kiss to her throat, and his hands finally reached her breasts.

She wanted to close her eyes, to revel in his touch and know no other senses- but he was looking at her, his dark twinkling eyes never wavering from her face, and she could not look away.

He squeezed them, fingers glancing over her hard nipples, and said, “Want to know what I think of these?”

Y/N could only nod, too eager and too wanton and too in love.

“Fucking sexy.”

And his mouth met hers, finally, finally, finally.

It was a passionate kiss, for there had not been a single day in their lives together they had not desired each other- but as much as there was lust, there was love. As they kissed, Edmund’s heart was soothed because Y/N’s lips were warm on his- and Y/N’s soul was comforted, because Edmund’s mouth was steady against hers. His hand grazed against her breast again, and she slid her tongue inside his mouth, and they both drew even closer together in their embrace.

One of Y/N’s hands slipped inside Edmund breeches, inside his boxers, and wrapped itself around him. Edmund gasped into his wife’s mouth as he felt her touch, and Y/N’s hips rolled against his, her hands already stroking her husband’s cock.

But all too soon, Edmund pulled away, panting.

“Too daring, darling.” He said, as breathless as she’d been minutes ago. “I was trying to make a point, not-”

“Make love?” Y/N asked, her brows raised. She was sopping, needy, and she didn’t think she’d ever loved him more. Please, please, please could he take off his clothes already? “If there is a vote between the two, husband, I will be voting the latter, just for your information.”

“Noted,” Edmund kissed her shoulder, “but I am not done.”

He drew away from her, and Y/N groaned. Sitting up between her parted legs, Edmund took a moment to look down at his wife. At the expanse of her soft skin, occasionally marked with a mole or pimple or scar. At the curves that had made her ravishing to him the first time he’d seen her, and which had continued to only grow in loveliness over the years. At the valley between her legs, at the dips in her sides as her hips flared out.

Y/N was curves and dips and valleys, and he could not help but be glad she was not thin as a lamp-post, and Edmund thought of how- to him- her body was perfect to kiss and hold and caress and love.

He smiled suddenly, “You know, sometimes when I can’t sleep, I look at you, and I try to decide which is my favourite curve on your body.”

She blinked very rapidly. That was far more romantic than counting sheep- or dragons, as she preferred.

Sometimes, in her most lovelorn moments, she would count Edmund’s freckles. She usually got too distracted by them to actually sleep, though.

“Have you- have you ever made a decision?”

Edmund shook his head, his unruly bangs falling into his eyes.

“Sometimes I think it’s this.” He ran her hand down the bend of her right side, “sometimes this-” he gripped her left thigh just above where it met her knee, “and sometimes- often, actually- your tits.”

Y/N giggled.

Edmund bent his head low then, still holding her thighs. He peppered kisses to the stretch marks painted over her thighs and her waist, and felt a tight, hot coiling inside the pit of his stomach as Y/N trembled in pleasure underneath him.

“What do those tell you?” Y/N asked, her voice a murmur. She wrapped her legs around him, locking him in place. If she could keep him here forever, she would. She felt so content, so calm in his arms- apart from the raging want to fuck him. “My stretch-marks?”

“You’re marked by the Heavens.” His voice caught, almost, and he almost shivered at the intensity of her eyes. “They resemble lightning strikes, you know? And lightning, like storms, like the rain, comes from the Heavens.”

Hm. She’d compared her stretch marks to dead worms before, because they were roughly the same shade, but beautiful rain, which covered the earth with an even more beautiful smell whenever it fell?

“How am I supposed to keep thinking of myself as ugly, if you keep saying things like that?”

It was not quite a victory, but it was close enough.

“Exactly. You’re not supposed to think of yourself as that, because you’re as far from that as I can imagine.”

Her heart thudded in her chest, and seemed to grow. They had made love so many times in- in so many ways, so many places- but she was certain that this was the most intimate moment they had ever shared.

“You can’t just kiss away all of my insecurities.” She spoke with a small laugh, as Edmund lifted his head up to gaze at her. She really wished he could, but neither of them could wholly and fully heal the pain inside each other. “Try as you might, it’s not possible.”

“Well, I’ll still keep trying.” He shrugged, and pressed a very light kiss to her clit, which made Y/N moan out loud. He would absolutely have to lavish more attention there, he decided firmly, he was as amorous as she was. “I love you. I love you, and you are the love of my life, Y/N/n, and you are beautiful.”

She pulled him down next to her again, and she nestled herself closer to him. Edmund’s arms encircled her, and she was glad to be the little spoon. She was usually very glad to be the big spoon, holding her husband in her arms, but she loved this position very much, too.

Y/N didn’t think of herself as truly beautiful, and perhaps never would; Y/N did not think of her being plump in a positive light, and perhaps never would- but in this moment, and many other moments after this, Y/N would look down at herself, and she would not recoil, she would not grimace, she would only remember her husband’s words, and she would remember her strength and her bravery and the fact that she was alive, and she would no longer be cruel to her own self.

In this moment, and in many other moments after this, there was peace- in her mind as well as his, and in their hearts and souls, which perhaps were as joined together as the Moon and the stars.

Until there came knocks on the door minutes later, and Y/N all but shoved Edmund to open it. He gave her a look, but could do nothing more- she was naked, after all, she couldn’t open the door. Drat, he really didn’t want to get up.

Regardless, he kissed her nose, which scrunched up in the most adorable manner, and got out of bed.

Ah, the struggles of Kingship.

“I’m sorry to disturb, Your Majesty, but Queen Susan asked to inform you and Queen Y/N that lunch has been laid.”

“Oh, thank you very much,” Edmund said, after a glance back at his wife, who was smiling lazily at him over the tops of her breasts. He felt a blush coming on again. “But my Queen-wife and I are both feeling a bit under the weather, and I was about to request someone to bring our meal up to our chambers. Perhaps after half an hour?”

The faun bowed, “I shall have that be done, Your Majesty, thank you very much. My well-wishes for you and Her Majesty Y/N to soon feel better.”

Edmund nodded his head at him, a gracious smile on his face- and once the faun had departed, he closed the door and returned to the bed.

He snuggled close to his wife, who wrapped her arms around him. He felt perfectly, incandescently warm, and spoke into her shoulder, “I figured you would not want to face the world again today.”

She kissed his hair, saying, “You assume right, but what about you?”

“Oh, I prefer you to the world, by leaps and bounds.”

“I love you, husband.” Y/N said simply, and he pressed a short, chaste, yet endlessly loving kiss to her lips. “Anyway, now will you take off your clothes?”

Edmund matched her smirk with his, “How about you take them off for me, Y/N/n?”

Not another insecurity was thought of again that day, and the faun had to return with their meals four times before the King and Queen finally opened the door.

--

[furious-blueberry0]

Theret

This is a place that was originally in a personal project of mine that I abandoned, but that I decided to bring back to life by putting it into star wars! I don't have the strenght to draw it, so for now I'll just use images to illustrate how this planet looks. Enjoy!

Theret is the birth place of Baheera Lee (OC), this is a planet located in the Mid Rim Territories, and is part of the Chommel sector. It's also part of the Republic, and is represented in the Senate by Senator and Princess, Madiha Akel.

It's an incredibly brightly colored planet, whose mountains, grass lands and beaches are composed by a multitude of natural colours.

Because of this biome, the human population of the planet also enjoys to surround themselves of these colors in their clothing and cities.

The cities and villages are, in fact, made of the same rocks as the mountains, and the glass of the windows are made from the colored sand, creating stunning rainbow cities that can effortlessly blend themselves with the landscape.

The people here also wear clothing and veils dyed with the natural colours of the planet, and their Tanneries are the most famous and proficient of the whole Sector.

In fact the most expensives gowns are often dyed here, like the clothing of various senators, politicians, rich merchants and even some of the gowns of the various Queens of Naboo.

Their homes are full of art of any form. From the stained glass of the windows, to the colored bricks of the walls, from the rainbow baskets to the painted vases, from the intricate embroidery of the veils to the jewelry that decorate their hands, necks and heads.

It's a planet full of joy and life, whose people are considered to be some of the happiest of the galaxy.

The planet suffered an huge attack during the Clone Wars, but the people managed to fight back and have a series of victories even before the Republic could intervene to help them.

A Battalion was then stationed there for the remain of the war, and they collaborated with the already existing, but small, military of the planet, to protect the population from the various attacks the CIS made even after their defeat.

The majority of the clones of the Battalion, by being in such close contact with the people of Theret, started to adopt their colorful lifestyle, by painting their armors in far more colors than any other clones in the whole GAR, which also had the advantage of helping them camouflage themselves on the battlefield.

[peakyswritings]

Meet the Ferrante Family

It’s incredible that in less than two weeks it’ll be a year has passed since I posted the first chapter of Heart, Body and Soul. Thank you so much for those who have stuck with me despite the slow updates🤍

Finally, I made a post with the face claims I found for the Ferrante family (although Nina doesn’t have one yet). Are most of them from the Godfather movies? Yes. Do I regret it? No. And note that a great number of aunts, uncles and cousins are missing, but I decided not to introduce them since they are not relevant to the story.

Nina Ferrante is the OC from my ongoing Tommy Shelby x OC series Heart, Body and Soul.

NINA’S FAMILY

Vincenzo and Maria Ferrante

Pietro, Salvatore and Nina’s parents

Vincenzo Ferrante: he runs the Italian side of the business. He’s the oldest brother (older generation). Despite being a very traditional man, he has a soft spot for his daughter that leads him to give her a bit more freedom. In fact, Nina’s the only girl in her family who was allowed to finish school.

Maria Ferrante: she’s a conservative woman, very religious and apparently meek.

Her mother had spent her whole life convinced that all she was born to do was to take care of someone else, without ever being able to make a single decision for herself, or voice her thoughts, and that conviction was too deeply rooted inside her to be eradicated. (Excerpt from CH.6)

However, there’s more to her than she lets on.

Pietro and Salvatore Ferrante

Pietro Ferrante (on the left): he’s the oldest of the Ferrante siblings, and he’s expected to become the head of the Italian side of the family business after his father. He fought in the war and almost lost an arm in combat, and sometimes it still hurts. After the war, he built walls around him.

Pietro, the older one, had almost lost an arm in combat, and even though two years had passed, sometimes it still hurt. But in exchange for the arm, the war took something else away from him. There seemed to be nothing left of his once caring nature, and his innate attention for details had turned into a urge to have everything under control. (Excerpt from CH.5)

Salvatore Ferrante (on the right): he’s the middle child. He fought in the war and returned with a deep scar on his face.

As for Salvatore, the war had enhanced the restlessness that had always distinguished him. He was angry, easily triggered, spiteful. And now he had a deep scar which crossed the left side of his face, making his expression appear even more grim. (Excerpt from CH.5)

Nina Ferrante

Nina Ferrante: she’s the youngest child and only daughter. Her fiery nature and unusual views make her a bit of an outcast in her family. She’s believed to be a witch by many of her cousins and other girls from the village. She rather enjoys the rumours.

There was nothing soft about Nina. She was all sharp edges and searing looks. […] She was outspoken, and defensive, and angry. Angry at her family, whose judgmental stare burned on her skin. Angry at her mother, who had wanted her different since the moment she had drawn her first breath. Angry at her father, who still treated her like a little girl who knew nothing of the word. Angry at Tommy Shelby, who thought he could just barge in and state some claim over one of them. (Excerpt from CH.2)

However, behind the mask, she’s extremely sensitive, and feels everything deeply.

Winston

Winston: Nina found him when he was just a kitten, and took him in without a second thought. He’s a little shit, just like his owner.

AGNESE’S FAMILY

Mario and Rita Ferrante

Agnese, Rosa and Sofia’s parents

Mario Ferrante: he’s the youngest among the Ferrante brothers (older generation) and runs the Italian side of the business alongside Vincenzo.

Rita Ferrante: she’s Agnese’s mother, and has a love-hate relationship with Maria Ferrante. They care about each other in their own way, but are stuck in an endless competition.

Agnese Ferrante

Agnese Ferrante: she’s Nina’s cousin, and the one Tommy is expected to marry. She’s considered the most beautiful girl in the village, she’s soft and kind and probably the only one of Nina’s cousins who doesn’t ostracise her. Being the oldest child, she feels responsible for her sisters. She knows she needs to get married, cause she has no brothers and if something were to happen to her father, which is likely, considering the family’s line of work, they’d have no protection. Of course their uncles would take care of them, but it wouldn’t be the same.

Rosa and Sofia Ferrante

Rosa Ferrante (on the left): she’s the middle child.

Sofia Ferrante (on the right): she’s the youngest child.

OTHERS

Antonio Ferrante

Antonio Ferrante: he’s the middle child of the Ferrante brothers (older generation) and runs the English side of the business. He has two sons, Alfredo (the oldest) and Angelo (the youngest), who are expected to run the English side of the business after their father. Their mother passed during childbirth. No face claims for them yet.

THE SPINIETTA FAMILY

The Spinietta family is another Mafia family who operates both in Sicily and New York. There’s a delicate balance of power among the Spinietta family and the Ferrante family, and they’re struggling to keep the peace. Spinietta has two sons: Vito (the oldest) and Stefano (the youngest). They didn’t fight in the war thanks to their father.

They walked around as if they owned every street, every shop, every person; as if everything was owed to them, because they had money and power. (Except from CH.5)

Stefano Spinietta

Behind the courtesy and the charm, Stefano is actually a monster. He has been obsessed with Nina for years, and recently started pressuring her father into arranging a marriage between them.

Stefano Spinietta was a disgusting person. He was the son of one of her father’s business partners, the boss of another mafia family, which operated both in Sicily and in New York. In the last few years, Stefano had been very clear about his intentions towards Nina, and he had taken too many liberties with her, to the point where she had found herself in the position of putting a knife to his throat. But the threat didn’t have the intended effect; if anything, it only made him more relentless. (Excerpt from CH.3)

Stefano still has a scar on his neck from that episode with Nina.

-

Heart, Body and Soul taglist

@zablife @queenofshinigamis @raincoffeeandfandoms / @justrainandcoffee @call-sign-shark

@kmc1989 @babayaga67 @kmhappybunny240 @diorrfairy @mariaelizabeth21-blog1

@gaslysainz @brummiereader @loverhymeswith @fairypitou @prettywhenicry4

@mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @woofgocows @girlwith-thepearlearring @goblinjnr @outlanderuniverse

@citylights31 @neonpurplestars89-blog @red-riding-wood @evita-shelby

@look-at-the-soul

General tag list:

@iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys

@lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24 @kmc1989

@call-sign-shark @jomarch-wannabe @ce1iat

@red-riding-wood @optimisticsandwichgladiator

Tommy Shelby taglist:

@50svibes

[mayullla]

Quest: Find a lost boy who ran away from home to the forest.

Character(s): Orc (Oc / Original work) Summary: You headed to the forest in search of the boy and happened to find an orc camp and somewhere on the side saw the boy in the hands of a tall orc. Tags/warnings: Yandere!monster (male monster), fem!reader, kidnapped/trapped, violence (both to the reader and outside), constant fear of being eaten, running away, being treated like a pet Note: Just to make sure while I was writing this I wasn't thinking the dnd style kind of thing but more so the generic common monsters that you find in games that you must kill RPG. (.... just that the orc is very tall and buff...)

{ - JRPG Quest masterlist - }

Find a boy who ran away from home. The boy had gotten into a fight with his father because he didn't want to help out with work preferring to go out and spend time with his friends. The boy had run away in the morning but didn't come back home even after the sun started to set. His parents were worried and looked everywhere in the village but no sight of the boy.

They found out that someone had seen the boy running to the forest alone. They were in terrified when they heard it and the father wanted to walk straight into the woods and search for his son but was stopped by his friends who tried to calm him down. The man was nothing more than a farmer and it would be dangerous for him to go into the forest like this when there was many monsters lurking within the woods. It was preferable that someone who had the skills to handle it.

That is probably where you come in when you took the quest. Their pay wasn't really luxurious which was understandable for a farmer's family you thought that there could be a chance that their friends also chipped in a bit of money to help out in paying the fee.

But what you found in the search was something different and more severe for it could cost the lives of the whole village.

Ho... you looked at the camp made out of goblins and orcs. This was too dangerous for you to handle alone you thought to yourself as you looked at the armed orcs and the laughing goblins carrying rusty swords.

Goblins in this world are not necessarily the smartest, or most powerful strength or stealth wise as a matter of fact they are known to be weak alone and even beginner hunters can mostly take care of them if given the right training. And while many tend to stick in groups of 30 or less you never really saw this many of them at once.

There were more than 80 goblins from what you can see. Wild monsters that laugh so painfully to your ears as you were sure that there were more. Yet you could not help but gulp when you saw the many orcs around the tribe while not as many as the goblins they were half the many as goblins. Tall green-skinned monsters were taller than the people that you know. Long canine teeth show as they guard the borders of the camp with strong builds, tattoos, and necklaces of skulls both humans and other creatures you knew that these orcs were not for show.

You were supposed to run away and tell the guards of a nearby village that about the camp when you heard a small child screaming voice.

Running to the sound, you found a boy held by his collar by an orc. The boy tried to kick the orc yet it was useless when you compare their builds, the orc was too strong. That child was about to be taken by the orc when you screamed at them with your dagger out ready to hurt. "Realise the kid, unless you want to die." You warned the orc who stared at you. He didn't seem intimated at you, almost as if looking down at you with his bored stare.

He was taller than you, taller than humans. To him, you were nothing but a plant of wood at best or very thin twigs of bones.

Glancing at the child then at you as he moves the child back facing you, closer to you. You wondered if the monster was going to mock you for even trying, when you see his muscles you knew it might as well take three to four knights moving all together to even have a chance to take it down compared to an adventurer like you.

"Trade."

.... What...?

The gruff voice told you, not expecting them to say something like you have to do a double take wondering if you heard that wrong. Yet it seems that you weren't mistaken as he huffed in your silence.

"Trade boy. You stay."

"What..." You could not believe what the orc was talking telling you to trade your life if you wanted the boy to live. You considered it but fear swelled in your heart till you heard the boy's whimper and looked at him. Tears in the boy's eyes, he was terrified.

"You stay... boy let go. You mine." The orc repeated again, looking at you waiting he still held the boy on the neck.

The boy's life was within your hands. The boy whimpered again as the orc's grip tightened on the boy's clothes. He wasn't patient. "Trade!" You screamed at the orc your eyes on the boy.

The orc looked satisfied as he dropped the boy to the ground and as you tried to take the boy away cautious of the orc instead of attacking from a change of mind or taking the boy away saying that was all just him mocking you he instead grabbed you.

"HEY! LET GO OF ME!!" The orc tossed you on his shoulder as if you were nothing but a potato sack. You tried to scream as you beat his back with yours but he didn't seem bothered by your feeble attempts.

You yelled at the boy to get away from here and that you can handle yourself, the boy tried to help yet the moment he tried to grab a strong the orc growled at the flinching boy.

When you could not see the boy, far away that you were sure that he had time to run away if something goes terribly wrong you started to protest demanding that you would let down this instant as your leg and fist hit his muscles you knew he wasn't pained by any of your feeble attacks and what weapon you had was quickly tossed away by him the moment he threw you on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

You were getting close to the camp...

You gulped as the goblins and orcs all stare at you in the arms of the orc, some goblins staring hungrily at you as if you were a meat buffet and maybe that was what they thought of you when one tried to reach out for your arm.

Only to freeze when the orc glared at the goblin growling as if warning the smaller weaker monsters to watch it. The goblin quickly backed away from you fearful of their own monster ally. You wondered if you were safe for a moment. Just a moment you thought that you would not be eaten at least not by them. You wondered if the orc wanted to eat you all to himself.

Into a camp hut, you were tossed into the stiff bed as you wondered if you would die right at this moment. Ripe limb from limb, you wanted to defend yourself but without a weapon and the orc being too tall, you didn't think you could even win much less escape as you will be mobbed by the monsters outside either way.

You didn't know what to do when he didn't do anything to you leaving you to do whatever you please in the tent, yet he did set boundaries when you tried to step out for a moment to look out or when you went too near to his weapons. He was watching you as sharpened his weapon, growling at you when you did something that you were supposed not to do.

While he let you go about the tent under his watch you could not help but flinch when he planned to head out for a moment, suddenly standing from whatever he was doing, grabbing you, and tossing you again to the bed with your leg tied with a rope to something heavy. After a while, he would come back with berries and fruits for you along with unknown meat (what tasted like a rabbit) and a water bucket.

At night he would join you in the makeshift bed holding you in his arms, you looked away from the monster that held you your heart beating fast as it was too close wondering when it would just bite your head off yet instead of that with his tight hold over you slowly he fell asleep, his breathing can be felt by your hair as you fearfully stayed still.

You thought of running, late at night unable to sleep you thought that this could be your chance to run away when all the other monsters were also asleep but the orc's arm was heavy, hugging your waist you could not help but move a little more than intended. As you tried to get up you checked to see if the orc was still sleeping only for you to stop breathing when you see him staring down at you, warning.

He was awake.

You can't help but wince as you tried to pull away in fear when the rope tied to your ankle stopped you from going any farther. You totally forgot about it... you looked down in instinct as if trying to show that you were small and that you were guilty and sorry. The orc huffed as he pulled you closer to his chest. Your head bumped into his long tusk.

Because of how you have been trying to move you were facing his chest now and pulled closer to him your nose bumped into his chest. You closed your eyes trying to act as if you were asleep sure that he was still watching you, daring to make any sudden movements.

He wasn't much of a talker and without your weapon, you weren't much of a fighter, you were a tiny human that a buffed orc kept like a pet in his own home. All he did was command you with one word, not fluent in human language but knowing just enough to force you to do something. For a moment you thought that the orc was actually nice when you noticed how careful he was around you as if you were fragile like glass.

What a horrible thought.

"Eat." A grape in from of your face but you looked away. It wasn't like you didn't want to but right now you just lost hope as he took you farther and farther away from your home. Tossed like a potato sack as the monster went farther and farther away from the nearest village. Yet when they found a village smaller than the one you save the boy was from, you could not help but feel bile come to your mouth as you heard the screams and fires a little away from you. You could not help them not when you were placed in a cage with other pitiful humans and guarded by more orcs.

As you pushed yourself away from the orc who finally collected you when the fire died down a little and more human slaves both young and old. How his clothes were tattered and burnt from the fire and blood stain his weapon and his hands as he grabbed you again and pulled you out of the cage to take you back. For a moment you thought that there was a reason why that skull necklace was on his neck and that it was something that was decoration.

You bite your lip as tears leaked from your eyes when he warningly growled if you were not eating something bad would happen slowly you took the grape to your mouth slowly munching in fear. He huffed again as he took another grape that you were sure was from the village that they raided killing anybody who tried to fight back.

You had to get away. Otherwise, you will really die.

It was a few days after the whole situation as you looked for a chance to run away when the whole place. When the orcs and goblins were moving again that day took a short break near a lake, the orc had left you under a tree to get some water. Maybe he trusted you a little that you would not run away anymore, at least he thought you didn't have the guts to actually run away.

But you did. When nobody was looking, already so used to your presence as the orc's pet you slowly sneaked away and when you were far enough made a mad dash.

You ran and ran even as you felt pain in your ribs you push through the suffering caring about living than a short pain. As you pant tired you still kept running through the forest but you tried your best in fear that this might be your first and last chance you could ever get away from the monsters. You were so desperate even as your legs wobbled you kept on running and didn't see a root of a tree sticking out that your foot caught on and tripped.

"Ow..." You mumbled as you tried to get up but could not help but hiss when you felt the pain in your ankle. You sprained it yet you could not dwell on those thoughts when you heard a loud roar, you knew that he found out that you left.

You need to hide, you need to hide. Looking around you crawled into a hollow log hoping that the orc would not find you. In a few seconds, you hear the sounds of stomps and you knew it was him pulling your legs closed to yourself you prayed that the orc would not look into the log and just give up.

However that hope was only shattered when you saw his face from the hole you crawled in, he was furious you could see in his eyes as he growled that he found you. Before you could crawl deeper into the hollow log away from the monster he grabbed your sprained ankle.

"Mate. Mine." You yelped when he dragged your feet pulling you out of the log with one hand, with how tight he was holding your ankle it hurt so much as he pulled you out upside down. Above the ground, you fearfully looked at the monster as blood rushed to your head. The monster was angry you could see it as he glared at you.

As he looked at your leg, you feared what was going through his head as his hand tightened around your ankle even more as if trying to break it. You screamed in pain as tears flew from your eyes to your forehead and hair. "I AM SORRY!! I AM SORRY!!" You cried out in fear that he would crush your bones to pieces making you unable to walk anymore.

Maybe he understood that you were scared and that you were actually sorry as the strength lessen. Tears still flowed from your eyes as he moved you to his arms now upright as he let go of your leg. You knew that you will not be able to walk for while not when you already sprained your ankle while running away and not when the lingering pain worsened because of the orc hand who was so close to breaking it as punishment for running away.

You are his mate or at least that was what he called you and now you could only doubt that you will ever be able to run away from his grasp. Not when he warned all the other monsters to watch you if you ever escape to catch you, not when he threatened you to dare leave and that he would break your legs if you do. Not when he placed a dog leash on your neck as he held the rope making sure that you will never leave him again.

Note: Okay gotta be honest orcs/goblins are deff not my thing but I had to add either them or goblins one way or another cause it is like one of the most common monsters in RPG games apart from slimes. And since it is like probably impossible for me to think of any goblin scenarios (I tried ;-;) I went for orcs. My mind the whole time was most deff thinking of a buff man than an orc so it may or may not have leaked in my writing. BUT ANYWAY HOPE YOU LIKE IT~!

[drchenquill]

✨ Writerblr intro ✨

[Because my old one was crusty and in dire need of a revamp]

Hello lovely person who stumbled upon this blog! I'm glad to have you and I welcome you to my writeblr! Let's start with a little writer introduction, shall we?

About me~

✨ 21+

✨ she/her

✨ You can call me anything you want! I don't have preferences in names!

✨ Animal lover! (proud owner of four dogs and four cats!)

✨ English is NOT my first language. Motherlanguages are Italian-German.

✨ I only write in German so everything you see here got translated.

✨ You can go check out my Pinterest where you can find boards of some of my OCs!

About my writing~

My favorite genres to write in are fantasy and romance (I dabble in other genres, but those are my main ones). I just love the fluff, the angst, the magic, everything to do with those genres.

I have a lot of WIPs, and I won't bore you by listing them all (because, let's be honest, the number can change at any moment.) But I do have some stories I've finished and translated that I can list!

Who's to judge?

"Humans, vampires. They always existed, they always fought for a place in this vast world. Some succeed, some lose themself in the journey to freedom. Thana was different. She never fought, she never stepped out of line. Thana gave up. She had nothing to fight for, nothing to hold onto.

But what would happen if one accident forces her out of her comfort zone? What would happen if she had to fight for something she had long forgotten? Fight for people she thought meant nothing to her?"

Crime/Mystery/Thriller/Vampires

The Monster's Pearl

"There was once a castle. It was huge and dark, not a soul dared to go near it. It was called "The Gate of the Underworld" because a lonely man lived there. Rumor had it that he was a demon who had crawled out of hell.

There was once a simple family. They had a healthy boy. He had black curls. They were so dark that even the night was afraid to get lost in them. His eyes were so bright that even the sun had to look away to avoid being blinded. His voice silenced the birds so that they could listen to him.

The little boy grew up healthy, unaware of the background to his birth. On his eighteenth birthday, he received two suitcases and a letter that would change his whole life.

Will he be able to adjust to his new life, or will he throw it all away?"

Romance/Drama/Fantasy/LGBTQ+

The Shadow of Her Dreams

[currently being translated]

"Molly Potts is an ordinary young woman who lives with her family in a small village in the middle of nowhere. Despite her peaceful life, she feels a great need to leave, to go somewhere where she can experience something instead of dying of boredom. But her monotonous life is quickly thrown off course when she and her brother discover something that will shake up their entire lives. And who is this woman who keeps appearing in her dreams?"

Fantasy/Adventure/Romance/Greek Mythology insipired

Short Stories

"As the title already explains, this is a collection of short stories that are too short to become a book, but still wanted to be told."

a lot of different genres

WIPs

There are some WIPs I mentioned here and there, so I will make a little introduction for those~

Him and Me - Bound by Fate

"Leon Martens. A young art teacher ready to start a new life. He has a new job, a new apartment and maybe a change for peace. Sure, he struggles with human interactions and he'd rather not meet any humans in general, but he's happy with what he has. But since fate was something Leon couldn't prevent, he was thrown into a whirlwind of situations that made him question reality and, more than once, his own mental stability."

Fantasy/Mystery/Romance/LGBTQ+

Daisy

"Daisy ran, she ran as fast as her legs could carry her. She fled from a fate that was being forced upon her. She fled from her pack, or rather, from her alpha. The young Daisy was an omega. Ever since she was born, she knew that being born an omega was a curse. Her alpha believed that she belonged to him, that he could mark her, but Daisy wouldn't let that happen. Daisy wanted freedom, but what if her freedom led her into another pack? Will they be the same? And who is this nameless alpha that is considered as monster but manages to make her forget her fear?"

Werewolves/Romance/Drama

The Memories of The Future

"Sophie is an easily excitable, cheerful young girl. She lives with her aunt after her parents tragically passed away. Unfortunately, she doesn't remember much about them since she was just a baby. Her aunt and her border collie, Pepper, are the only ones Sophie has in her heart, and she'll spend the rest of her life with them. The only problem with her idyllic life is that little old Sophie has the attention span of a squirrel and it's hyperactivity. She misplaces, forgets, runs around, misplaces again, and those silly dreams and sudden flashes don't help. Also, who is this tall man who suddenly appears and claims that Sophie has visions? No, those are not visions, she just has a very vivid imagination, right?"

Fantasy/Adventure/Comedy

Adelaide

"Adelaide Blackmore, the gossip of all Povington. Growing up as the youngest of four children, with three full-grown and well-behaved sons, she was the worst thing that could have happened to her parents. Wild red hair that the maid had to style every day in vain. Her chemise dresses always had to be dark in color, as she didn't feel the need to avoid puddles or stay out of mud. The look in her dark eyes was penetrating, never receding. She grew up with three brothers, her whole childhood was spent fighting with the boys, so her noble mother couldn't expect her to grow up as a lady, not when she had to assert herself on a daily basis.

But Adelaide must be married, or her poor mother may never rest in peace. Enter Mr. Duncan Gilingham. A young man in his early 30s, he has just moved to Povington with his dear mother to find peace in the country. How nice, he was not married yet! But… oh dear, no wonder he is not married, the poor man was blind. How will Adelaide deal with this? Will she have pity on him, or is not even his blindness safe from her sharp tongue? How will she react when she finds in him a match for her rude nature, a man she thought incapable of taking care of himself?"

Romance/Drama

Foliè

You can read it directly here!

Chapter 1 - The Beginning

Dystopian/Fantasy/Psychological

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

I am not a big rambler because I don't want to annoy anyone but I'm always open to questions or any sort of interactions. Also, i'm very tag game friendly!

Thank you for reading this far, I appreciate it! You are an amazing human being, don't let anyone tell you otherwise!

[ashroomy]

Can't stop thinking about fnv ocs so I'm gonna ramble about them alllll

Jasper: He's my courier who's yes man aligned. He tries to be extremely upbeat and cheerful (think, useless ray of sunshine). He always tries to see the best in people's which means he's very good at getting scammed. If someone were to overcharge him for some medicine he would go "aw must have taken them so much time and effort to produce, and they're offering it to me, worth every cap :)" He also will see actual horrors unfolding and still try to see the good in a person. Like in Nipton seeing Vulpes. Whilst horrified at the crimes, he looks at him and goes "oh :( what made you this way. You can be better. I'm sorry they made you like this" despite the fact that the whole town is actively on fire. He believes in peace and diplomacy but can be a huge pushover. However he is extremely good at bandaging wounds. If he didn't get shot in the head and demand answers, he'd be a doctor.

August: My legion frumentarii who hates the legion! He got taken by the legion when his village was invaded. He's not violent by nature. But he knew that being peaceful would lead to his death. He did what he could to survive and discovered his knack for spying. Allowing him to become a frumentarii, he was pleased, hoping he wouldn't have to kill anymore. He was extremely devastated when he found out this wasn't always the case. A skilled actor. He uses this to his advantage, if he had his way, he would be performing on stage in many shows. Has a habit of taking notes on everything he sees. This has a tendency to wind up the other people around him.

Noah: Originally a joke character between me and a friend who became his own decently serious character. He works for the NCR designing propaganda for them. He likes being left alone and drawing hunched over. Has a strange relationship with the legion, as he knows he should despise them, but he has friends and family who are surviving in there. So he believes there must still be good people in there somewhere, despite the atrocities. In his propaganda, he will draw people who loosely resemble those who got taken by the legion so that on the off chance those people see the posters, they know he's still thinking of them.

Claire: Noah's older sister and dedicated NCR soldier. She takes extreme pride in serving the NCR and is passionate about following all orders to a T. She attacks most tasks with a frightening zeal and many are pleased she's on their side. Unlike her brother, she holds nothing but disgust for the legion for taking her family and friends, and vows to crush the legion to prevent anyone else going through the same fate as her loved ones. Every time there is a potential chance for a NCR and Legion clash. She is the first to volunteer to step in.

Ferox: My horrible horrible centurion, he holds the legion in high regards and vehemently believes in their ideals. Ruthless and bloodthirsty, he has little in the way of friends in the legion due to his offputting and intimidating air. He doesn't mind. As he believes that he is the most loyal person in the legion and everyone else is below him, he refuses to talk to anyone he believes is "lesser" than him. His violent nature and arrogance make him highly detested and feared in and out of the legion. From the same village as August, he fought hard to survive, but came to appreciate the legion over time, losing sight of how he even got there in the first place. Claire later defeats him. (Which is good because I hate him and he's only a character so I can practice writing awful people)

[akoyaxs]

Dangerous Games - II

✮ Pairing: Aonung x Tayrangi/Omotikaya fem reader ✮ Tags: Reader POV, oral sex (m and f recieving), slight voyeurism if you squint, banter, fluff, friends w benefits ✮ Read Part 1 here Note: this (backstory and character dynamic) is heavily based of my wattpad fanfiction "Dangerous Game", it's just a little more mature than I would post on my WP so I'm doing a Aonung x reader part now instead of the Aonung x OC in the fanfiction ˙ᵕ˙

So maybe things didn't go exactly to plan - not that there had ever been a plan in place.

But when you and Aonung returned back to the village, the others hardly failed to notice the marks you'd left all over each other.

Neteyam had been quick to notice the nips and hickeys along your neck, and Lo'ak's eyes nearly bulged out of his head when he saw the scratches you'd marked along Aonung's back.

The two Sully boys had instantly pulled Aonung aside. By their gleaming eyes and slight frowns, you could tell they were torn between their obvious disbelief that Aonung managed to have sex with you and their brother-like protectiveness of you (which was completely unnecessary as you outranked them both put together).

Kiri and Tsireya had been raising their brows at you, which you ignored after sharing the whole story with them. Tsireya had been slightly disgusted with her brother yet amused with your easy control of him, whilst Kiri had just listened intently with an incredulous grin on her face.

Unfortunately, in the moment where you and Aonung made that bet and engaged in certain activities in that soft forest clearing, you hadn't though about the longer term consequences.

One of them was Aonung himself. He couldn't stop shooting you strange glances despite your insistence that it meant nothing.

You had thought that finally giving him a taste would satiate his inexplicable fixation with you, but if anything, he was just seems to want you more.

You sigh as you walk out of your hut, forgetting the crucial fact that your kelku was next to the one the Metkayina were staying in.

You're striding past without your weapons when you hear a voice call your name from inside.

Tsireya is smiling at you from the entrance, nestled comfortably against Lo'ak. You can spot Kiri and Rotxo by the fire, chatting with Neteyam.

Not spotting a certain someone, you follow Tsireya's welcoming wave and duck into the kelku.

Yet upon entering, you realise you made a mistake in assuming Aonung wasn't there, because your foot catches on a thick turquoise tail, and you find yourself promptly falling into someone's lap.

Stupid ass skxawng, leaving his tail lying wherever for people to trip over. Why does he just have to be so stupidly massive.

You grumble a little as you push yourself up, finding Aonung's face suddenly inches from yours, an amused little smirk on his face.

"Shut up and get off me fish lips," you snap, gripping his shoulders to push yourself out of his lap.

"You were the one that sat on me," he points out, before he cuts himself off.

You don't miss the way his eyes instantly travel over him as you sit up and push yourself away, but before you can snap at him that your eyes actually aren't on your tits, Tsireya speaks up.

"You look beautiful," she gasps, smiling at you. "Where are you going?"

"There's a party tonight," you say, frowning at Lo'ak.

"Oh yeah," he says, shaking his head slightly. "I forgot about that- that's why we came here, to invite you!"

Immediately, your eyes widen, but Kiri's grabbing Rotxo's arm and begging him to come.

Which only means-

"You're coming too bro, right?" Neteyam asks Aonung.

Aonung clears his throat and peels his gaze away from you. You hadn't even noticed him staring- you'd gotten so accustomed to his bright blue eyes on you.

"Yeah," Aonung shrugs, and Neteyam grins.

"We had some good times in the reef- now it's our time to show you a good time in the forest."

"Here's your chance," I whisper to Aonung, so only he can hear.

"Chance to what?"

"To fuck around with some villagers and leave me alone," I hiss, grinning at him.

"I think you like having me around sweetheart," Aonung whispers back, not in the least deterred by the words.

"And what gives you that impression? My overwhelming love and affection for you?" you taunt.

"That and the way you were moaning in my ear the other night," he grins, teeth glinting sharply, and you feel the places where those very fangs lightly sunk into your skin prickle under his bright blue gaze. "Oh yes, yes, yes-"

"Shut your stupid mouth," you snap, quickly checking that the others couldn't hear your whispered, furious conversation.

"I thought you liked my stupid mouth," Aonung grins, before you whip his leg hard with your tail. "Ow."

The others turn to see him rubbing his leg and wrinkling his nose at you.

"Sorry, accident," you say, rolling your eyes.

"Yeah well, we should go before you murder Aonung," Kiri smiles, hauling you up and away from the stupid skxawng. 

You allow yourself to be led away by Kiri, Rotxo on her other side, and the others trailing behind you as you walk together towards the party.

You can hear Tsireya giggling at Lo'ak's stupid jokes, and Neteyam and Aonung are having a low, quiet conversation, though you can feel eyes burning on you.

You'd bet anything they were a very familiar ocean-blue set of eyes with that strange, unreadable expression.

Thankfully, you get a distraction as soon as you arrive at the party - alcohol.

It's been a long fucking week, what with training Aonung and scolding Aonung and avoiding Aonung and the other business with Aonung, and this is a time where you can just get away from fucking Aonung.

It's so stupid, the way he just always seems to be there, and when he isn't physically, it's just imprinted in your mind.

You don't love him - you don't even like Aonung - but there's just something about him that just remains with you wherever you go.

It's something about his faint sea-breeze scent lingering after he's been in the forest for weeks, something about the way his large blue eyes glitter no matter if they're illuminated by sunlight filtering through the foliage or the forest bioluminescence.

You grunt, downing a sweet, very strong drink of some unfamiliar sort.

You can still almost feel the ghost of his hands all over you, feel your fading nips and hickeys prickle when he's near, hear the faint groans and curses he left, messy and hot, along your neck as your back arched against his muscular chest.

Fuck, this isn't good.

The alcohol isn't drowning away these constant thoughts of Aonung.

Never once have you ever spared two flying fucks for a guy after you fucked.

It's not like you like Aonung, but you've hardly ever felt this level of... awareness... with any other guy before.

Each encounter has been the same, a quick fuck then you leave before things can get awkward, or worse, intimate.

So okay, maybe seeing your whole clan get murdered and destroyed by sky people at a young age could be traumatising, maybe even give you a few silly little intimacy issues, but your total aversion for intimate affection had always been uncomplicated.

You didn't need people to protect or defend you, you didn't need someone to take care of you.

Not once had you ever wished to stay and be cleaned up and praised and loved after sex; sex was just meaningless escape and occasional enjoyment.

These repeated thoughts of Aonung didn't mean anything. Nothing at all.

The next drink is even stronger, a whole coconut full of some shiny sapphire liquid that tastes faintly of lime, and you sloppily down it before swiping away the droplets.

Aonung didn't matter- it doesn't matter that you can feel his eyes on you from across the party.

But you only notice the burn of those ocean-blue eyes when it suddenly disappears.

You frown, turning to where you last saw Aonung, to find him speaking to some other girls.

Ha. Ninat was, simply put, a slut. She was named after her obviously egocentric mother, who Neytiri had once told you had put quite a few moves onto Jake.

Now Ninat 2.0, not exactly improved, was giggling obnoxiously at Aonung, twirling her long dark hair and batting her long lashes at her.

You just scoff and turn away, sipping another coconut. You don't like Aonung, but you know he can do better than that.

"Quite a step down, don't you think," a voice whispers in your ear, before you realise Neteyam's standing beside you.

"What do you mean?" you ask, frowning drunkenly at your friend. 

"Come off it," Neteyam grins, rolling his eyes. "It couldn't be more obvious you fucked Aonung, he's even more pussy whipped than before."

"He's not pussy whipped," you mumble. "He's just-"

"Totally obsessed with you and everything you do and everything that has to do with you?" Neteyam suggests.

"Sure," you shrug, too hazy to argue with him as you down another drink.

"But I mean, who isn't," Neteyam grins. "All the other guys in the clan are furious - they know how picky you are about lovers and the fact you chose an outsi-"

"Gross Tey," you swat at him. "They aren't my lovers, I'm just having fun. I'm still young, just let me live, mighty warrior."

He laughs, but lightly holds your arm to steady you.

"Look, Khalo has been glaring at Aonung this whole party. Moy'ka is working up the courage to come talk to you, and those five guys over there are literally fighting over who gets to shoot their shot."

"What's your point," you frown. 

"My point is that you are literally the most desired girl in the clan, and it speaks volumes that you're fucking a guy that has been here for weeks when every other guy has been bending backwards to get you to look at them their whole lives," Neteyam says sternly.

"I'm not fucking Aonung," is all you reply with. "It was a one-time thing, and now I'm ready to move on and forget about it."

"He won't."

"Come on Tey," you grumble. "I heard a million stories about Aonung when you were in the reef, he was fucking girls left and right and he never got hung up on anyone. Why would he be so obsessed with me?"

"Because you aren't falling at his feet," Neteyam points out. "Look, Ninat is practically trying to suck his dick already, and he couldn't give two fucks. You have him hooked, and I know you're intrigued by him too."

"You mean annoyed," you grumble.

"No I mean intrigued," Neteyam says sternly. "I mean, why else would you be avoiding him, then having all these weird whispered conversations with him when you think we don't notice, then taking him so far away to train?"

"I take him far away so no one can hear his screams of pain," you grin, drunkenly cackling a little.

"You're fucking demented," Neteyam says fondly, tucking your face back behind your ears.

"True," you shrug carelessly feeling eyes snag back onto you.

You don't need to sense that it's Aonung looking, but you turn to meet his gaze anyway.

He's shameless about his staring, pupils tiny slits in large blue eyes like an ocean trench, before a voice interrupts you.

"Hey," Moy'ka says nervously, holding a small wrapped leaf of meat. "I brought this for you."

"What is it?"

"Yerik meat," he says awkwardly. "From my hunt. I saw you hunting one a few days ago with um... with..."

He trails off nervously, and you follow his gaze to where Aonung stands.

Aonung looks normal, half-listening to Ninat chatter on about some stupid shit, but you can see his tail flicking agitatedly behind him, and you can sense the hard coldness of his gaze from here, snagged right on your face.

You have a moments hesitation before you turn back, ignoring Aonung and smiling at Moy'ka.

"So I hunted it for you," Moy'ka says nervously.

How cute, going to the trouble of hunting a hexapede and bringing you a meal. It's not much to impress the best hunter and warrior in the clan, but you accept it graciously, and he looks so relieved and jittery that you can't help smiling.

This is another strange idea that the men in the clan have, bringing you gifts from their hunts as tokens for your "affection". It never seems to occur to them that you could easily hunt for yourself, could easily murder them too, but it seems to be some pathological need for you to accept their silly little gifts.

Moy'ka seems to be mumbling about something or another, about hunting and archery, and you find yourself thinking more about his large hands then the words he's speaking.

"Really?" you sigh, struggling to pretend you aren't bored out of your fucking mind.

"Well," Moy'ka says, before looking nervously down at you. "We could discuss it in a more private area."

At this, your ears prick up.

You're drunk and need a distraction and to be frank, you're horny.

So you grin agreeably up at Moy'ka, and follow him away from the party.

It's a little shy and messy, your head banging uncomfortably against the back of the tree you're propped against as Moy'ka clumsily holds you up.

You've barely been at this for more than a few minutes, which is undoubtedly long enough for you to realise that your standards really have slipped.

First Aonung and now this, bumbling, clumsy fucking with this endearingly nervous but not at all worthwhile guy, who's grunting - like a hog - his praises of your tightness and sweetness and beauty and other stupid fucking bullshit.

This is what you get for trying to be nice, you think. Give a sweet nervous guy a chance opposed to the cocky stupid ones, and end up with steadier rhythm of your head slamming into the tree than his thrusts.

You'd never ever fucking admit it, but Moy'ka feels like a fucking twig compared to Aonung.

You can tell Moy'ka is getting close - a good fucking thing so this can be over and you can go sleep - and he looks up at you.

"Can I-"

"Yes, yes fine," you wince, reaching up to clutch the branches in an unsuccessful effort to stop your head knocking.

He comes undone in an embarrassingly quick, loud groan, shaking with the orgasm and the effort of holding you up and against the tree.

When he finally pulls out, you wince and steady yourself on the ground, feeling extremely disgruntled and unsatisfied.

The one good thing about this interaction was that you smartly chose to go near the river, so you quickly slide away from Moy'ka.

It's only when you turn back, you spot the figure in the shadows of the trees. There's no mistaking that massive outline, or the distinctly paler, more greenish tint of their skin. 

But it's the large blue eyes, seemingly gleaming out of the darkness with cold amusement that makes you shiver slightly. You duck underwater, knowing he saw you notice him, before resurfacing.

"Are you alright?" Moy'ka asks.

"Yes," you say, trying not to sound bitter about your overwhelming lack of pleasure. "You should be going."

"Are you sure?" he asks, looking slightly hurt. 

"Yes," you say, eyes travelling over Moy'ka's shoulder to Aonung again.

Moy'ka also looks, and completely freezes when he sees Aonung.

"So I'm fine," you say pointedly, waiting for him to leave.

"Are you um..." Moy'ka says nervously, his gaze constantly flicking between you and Aonung. "Are you alri-"

"Yes yes I'm fine," you grumble, resisting the temptation to roll your eyes.

Finally, he slides up and tentatively steps away.

He gives Aonung a wide berth, cautiously avoiding his gaze as he scrambles away, and Aonung steps forward.

"What, skxawng," you grumble, not bothering to look at Aonung as you slide out of the river.

"Nothing."

You glare at him, able to sense the waves of his amusement from miles away.

"Mhm, and how long were you standing there?" you ask suspiciously. "Watching him fuck me-"

"Is that what that was?" Aonung scoffs. "It looked more like he was trying to hammer your head into that tree."

"Perv," you scowl. "Don't you have better things to do then stalking me?"

"Not really."

"So you were stalking me then?"

"I was going for a walk," Aonung says elusively, and your eyes narrow. "Then I heard him grunting like a fucking pig. Oh, you're so fucking tight- uhg, uhghhhhhh-"

"Didn't sound that different to you," you snap, feeling your face grow hotter.

Aonung raises an eyebrow and straightens up, so he's a good head and a half taller now.

"At least you had a good time with me," he grins.

"You are such a dick," you snap, glowering at him.

"And you have terrible fucking taste. Besides me, obviously."

"That was just one thing," you say hotly, "It wasn't that bad-"

"Not that bad," Aonung repeats incredulously. "That wasn't bad?"

"Well-"

"He was literally about to send you through that fucking tree," Aonung scoffs. "You looked so uncomfortable, I thought I'd have to come rescue-"

"I don't need your rescuing," you hiss.

"No, I think you need a good fuck," Aonung grins. "Because if that 'wasn't bad' then someone's royally fucking up with you, princess."

"Well I tried, didn't I," you hiss. "So I didn't get a good fuck, I admit it. Can you fuck off now?"

Aonung just scoffs.

"Is that really what you want?"

"What else would I want," you snap. "The great pleasure of your delightful company?"

"Have you had a good fuck?" Aonung asks instead, ignoring your sarcastic words.

"Yes."

"Besides with me," Aonung says.

You turn to glower at him, but instead of finding the expected cocky smirk on his face, you find him looking genuinely interested.

Ugh, why does he have to be so fucking invested? Why is he actually fucking caring?

"What does that matter?" you grumble.

Aonung blinks, looking sincerely engrossed.

"You haven't?" he whispers.

"I have," you grumble. "I just... I don't have very high expectations when it comes to guys."

"Oh paksalin-"

"Don't call me that," you snap at the name, which seems taunting and cold in this conversation. "I'm tired and unsatisfied so-"

Aonung settles back slightly, leaning against the same tree you had just been fucked against, if you could even call it that.

You're disgruntled to see that because of his stupid height, his head is resting against the same spot yours had repeatedly been knocked against.

"I wouldn't leave you unsatisfied," Aonung says coolly.

It takes you a moment to process his words before you snap up and stare incredulously at him.

"Really?" you say dryly, trying not to let your emotions get the better of you. 

What is he on about now? Is he saying what you think he's saying? Aonung nods simply.

"I think you know I wouldn't," Aonung whispers, tilting his head a little so he's looking down at you.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

But also you're tired and impatient and still annoyingly unsatisfied, so fuck it.

"Get to the point," you snap. "Or get lost."

Aonung doesn't waste any time, pushing himself off the tree and striding towards you. It seems like he only took a single step, but suddenly he's a foot apart and you're having to tilt your head to look up at him.

"Do you want me to help you?"

His question tumbles in front of you, seemingly trapped in the little space between your body and his.

He's a smug little skxawng. He knows what the answer is, but he also knows how fucking impossible it is for you to say the answer.

"Yes or no?"

You growl under your breath, growing more irritated by the minute, but the air between you is thick and charged with tension and you can feel the anticipation growing inside you.

It's pretty fucking obvious where this is headed, but it's just so... infuriating.

Infuriating that what you want happens to be offered by the most annoying dick you've ever known in your life.

"Fine," you grumble under your breath.

"What was that princess?" he asks, fangs glinting in his familiar grin.

Not bothering to speak at all, you just crash your lips onto his and snake your hands around his neck.

There's no need for the kiss, and both of you know it. The deal was for sex and sex alone, pleasure alone, and you know what it means that you kissed him.

You kissed him.

You can feel his heartbeat picking up against your chest as he shifts, one of his hands on your waist and holding you up so your faces are closer, the other tangling in your long hair.

He smells good, like amber and sea-salt, and his lips are so soft and warm that you nearly forget about everything else and get lost in the kiss.

Then it deepens further and everything is hot and warm and tangling, his hand sliding lower, nearly at my ass.

It hardly ever occured to you how little you've kissed in your lifetime- probably less than you've fucked, but now here you are, pressing yourself as close as you can to this infuriating, uselessly hot skxawng.

If you weren't so fucking horny then yes, maybe you would have paused to think, to remember your previous distaste for him, your principal for not giving in to his amused and persistent seduction.

But you are so fucking so you just kiss him harder as one of his hands cups your jaw, the other clasping around the back of your neck and tilting your head farther up to meet him.

Your height difference seems ridiculous, and after a few moments he smiles against your mouth.

"Up," he whisper, hands travelling down.

He catches you as your legs wrap tightly around his waist, arms snaking around his neck to steady yourself.

His hands automatically move to hold you in place, one on your back and waist, the other arm propped under your ass, the hand gripping your thigh.

The kiss is messy and airless and hardly graceful, but you wouldn't have it any other fucking way.

You're all greedy and breathless, desperate for anything, and the feeling of his soft lips against your own, his fangs lightly sinking into your lip before his tongue lightly licks away the small pearls of blood just... does something.

You can already feel him growing harder below you - you think he might have already been hard before you even noticed him, watching you get clumsily fucked against that tree.

Now your head is spinning slightly, and you feel more hungry than ever.

It's infuriating, but you know out of most of the clan, this stupid outsider with his massive body and pretty paler skin is probably the best person to be doing this with.

The knowledge - knowledge you'd never speak aloud - that Aonung is the best you've ever had by a long fucking shot doesn't exactly piss you off in the way you think it would.

It isn't some aggravating, world-shattering fact, because you simply know that Aonung would be more than happy to be in this position again, offering you more pleasure because he cockily knows he can give it.

And with that, you're suddenly being pushed against the tree again, but it's different.

His hands are easily holding you up, arms cushioning under you so you aren't knocked against the hard wood. You hadn't even noticed him slide your loincloth away, but suddenly your legs are tossed over his shoulders and he's gazing up at you. 

It's that same fucking look. Of the smitten, puppy-dog variety, but also with a note of hunger and lust that makes you clench around nothing.

You just look back, and there's a few moments where you just stare at each other, both of you hungry and silent, then before you know it he's dived between your legs.

It's too risky to grip his braids as you had last time - you don't want to fall down even though you know Aonung wouldn't let you drop - but you need something to hold anyway. Your hands fly to the branches above to steady yourself, nails digging shamelessly into the bark.

"Fuck," you growl under your breath as he flicks and kisses and sucks, pressing his tongue against and in you as you throw your head back against the trunk.

It isn't just his admittedly amazing talent for giving head that is just so overwhelming- it has something to do with the way he's so effortlessly holding you up, something to do with the little growls and hums he lets out against you, something to do with the realisation he's not holding himself back.

Last time, even though he had been trying to impress you, he had still restrained himself somewhat.

But now he knows your hungry, and he could probably get away with doing anything.

His hands are holding so tight to your thighs you can already see the little purple blooms of a bruise under his fingers, and he's making sure to sink his fangs lightly into your inner thighs every now and again.

The tiny pearls of scarlet blood are smearing with slick and spit all over the lower half of his face, but he's just humming delightedly against you, his tail swinging happily behind him and a dopey, self-satisfied grin on his face.

Your legs begin to shake around his head, eyes rolling all the way back as you moan louder and claw at the branch you're desperately clutching. 

"I- I'm fucking close," you manage to choke out between loud moans, and Aonung growls against you, not even bothering to look up. "Don't you want to-"

Aonung pulls away, looking distinctly disgruntled that you're talking to him and making him stop his relentless attack on your cunt.

"Go ahead, I'm planning on satisfying you much more than once princess," he says off-handedly, before diving back down with more fervour than ever.

The words you were going to say die in your throat as you gasp loudly, and before you know it, you're tumbling over that edge he had you teetering on.

He licked your essence greedily, growling with every swallow as though he was starved. But he didn't stop, continuing to lick and suck with reckless abandon, grinning at your increasingly whiny moans.

"Okay, okay," you laugh shakily, pushing lightly at his head. "I got-"

"Just one more," he mumbles against you.

You're about to protest, to tell him he doesn't need to, when he gives you large, pleading eyes and you realise this isn't just about you.

He's sincerely enjoying himself - your taste, your moans, your heels digging into his back and legs trembling on his shoulders from the increasingly overwhelming overstimulation.

You just whine loudly when he blinks pleadingly at you, but you aren't about to back down now.

He's watching you carefully, eyes flicking between your trembling body and your rolling eyes and shamelessly loud moans.

Your breath is so shaky that your body trembles with each desperate inhale you attempt at, but it's hard to beat off your moans and whimpers for a moment long enough to draw breath.

Finally you just let go, squirting all over Aonung with a keening cry, trembling all over and nearly going limp in his arms.

You're mortified at how intense your orgasm was, even more so when you open your eyes and see yourself limp against the tree, propped up carefully by Aonung.

"Are you alright?" he asks, looking distinctly pleased with himself but also a little concerned.

"Sure," you say with a shaky laugh as Aonung sets you back down. "Where did you learn that shit?"

"I picked it up," Aonung shrugs modestly, at complete odds with the cocky confidence gleaming in his ocean eyes. "Just here and there."

"Right," you say, rolling your eyes at him, before noticing the bulge in his tewng.

He's painfully fucking hard now, and you can see the seams of his loincloth straining.

"Do you need some help?"

Your questions surprises you both. But then again, he did do a great job with you, and you weren't selfish. You're happy to help him out.

"I'm supposed to be helping you," Aonung points out, shifting slightly to cover his erection.

"You did," you argue. "Don't be up yourself, you can ask for help too."

When Aonung just stares at you, you shift closer and lightly trace his bulge.

Instantly, his breath hitches and his body instinctively moves to follow your touch. You teasingly let your hand drop and he exhales as you turn to raise your brows at him.

"So?"

"Yes," he breathes.

"Yes what, Aonung," you ask, feigning stupidness.

"Please help me," he begs.

It was easier than you thought as you grin and oblige, moving to your knees and sliding his tewng down, reaching out to grab his cock before it smacks against his admittedly very toned abs. 

It feels fucking massive in your small slim hand - the smooth teal colour looking prettily pale against the azure blue of your forest na'vi skin, the glowing blue tahnì gleaming invitingly at you.

You pump his cock a few times, grinning as he chokes out a groan, and lick a stripe along him before closing your lips around the tip. Instantly, his hand closes on a fist full of your hair as his head tips back against the tree, swallowing a choked groan as he watches you take him into your mouth.

He jerks when you open your mouth wider. You don't hate the way it stretches your lips - he's the biggest you've ever had and it makes the hinge of your jaw ache as you force him down your throat. 

When he hits the back of your throat, he groans loudly and inadvertedly thrusts his hips forward. You choke a little and his grip on your hair loosens slightly as he mutters a bashful apology, but you just grin slightly to yourself before taking him even deeper, suckling on the head and the sides over and over. 

You're pulling groans and curses out of him as easily as he pulls your head gently up and down on his cock. You don't mind it, he did a good job and this is his reward.

You feel him getting closer, twitching in your mouth. His moans are getting louder and breathier too, and his grip on your soft dark braids is only getting stronger and stronger until you're just letting him move your head, mouth open for him and eyes watching him all the while.

But as he's nearly at his peak, he pulls you off him, not wanting to cum in your mouth, but you just grab his hips and push him deep into your throat, moaning slightly and sucking faster. 

That alone makes him come, letting out a stream of low groans and softly mutter your name again and again as you keep moving through his high until he's cursing, catching his breath and lightly pulling you off him.

His pupils are blown wide, large black spheres ringed in a fine line of bright icy blue as he looks down at you, hand absentmindedly moving to cup your face and gently wipe away the rest of the mess he left on your face.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "You didn't have to do-"

"I wanted to," you say without thinking.

Aonung blinks, still struggling to catch his breath as he realises what he's doing and quickly drops his hand away.

"Well," he says thoughtfully. He looks like he's trying to wrench his gaze away from you, yet those large blue eyes stay stubbornly fixed in yours.

You don't exactly want to look away, but you have a strange feeling that even if you wanted to, you wouldn't be able to tear your own gaze away either.

It's something about the way you're both standing, him hunched and slumped slightly against the tree, you drawn to your full height, and the fact that he's still nearly a foot taller.

Then there's a shout of laughter through the trees, and you remember about the party and the village and every other single fucking thing that you just happened to forget when you were with Aonung.

Stupid skxawng.

"We should go back to the party," you say quickly, the first words that jump into your mind.

You know what you're doing. For the first time in your life, you're backing down. And it's not because he intimidates you- quite the opposite.

It's what you see as the possibilities that frighten you. Because sure, the night was obviously going to end with you and Aonung doing that, because the fucking tension was just unbearable. Because when he looks at you like that, it's pretty fucking obvious what he's thinking.

Neteyam was right, but he isn't just fucking pussy whipped. Despite all of Aonung's cocky joking comments, he doesn't only like you. He's not just attracted to you. 

He wants more than these little forest quickies, and you... you just have no idea what you want.

So maybe you have intimacy issues. What do you do now? This has never happened, feeling a desire to overcome those very issues.

WHAT HAS THIS STUPID, MASSIVE, FISH-LIPPED, MUSCULAR, INFURIATING, HANDSOME, RIDICULOUS, COCKY, SWEET, GENTLE SKXAWNG DONE TO YOU?

Aonung just nods, eyes still following you as you pass him his loincloth and slide on your own.

"Hey," he says, nudging you slightly as you walk back towards the village. "If you're ever left unsatisfied, just come and find me again."

"I'm pretty sure you'll be the one to come and find me if I'm hooking up," you grumble. 

"At least I can deal with you," Aonung shrugs. 

"Same with you," you grin with raised brows. "Seems like we can't have a conversation without you getting hard."

Aonung swats lightly at you, and you shove him into a bush.

"So is that a yes then?" Aonung calls after you, struggling to stand back up and brush the leaves off himself. "We'll help each other out? Friends with benefits?"

"Not friends," you point out. "We'd have to like each other to be friends."

"I don't have a problem with you," Aonung shrugs. "I think you're quite fantastic."

"Okay I already sucked your dick, don't try to get in my pants again," you grumble. "I'll see you later."

"Alright," Aonung says, grinning at you as you return to the village.

No one pays any attention to the fact that you returned together, though you notice Neteyam's golden eyes on the pair of you as you walk towards your kelku.

You don't bother saying goodnight as you and Aonung split up to go to your neighbouring homes.

But as you duck into the shelter of your kelku, you can still feel the burn of that icy gaze on you.

Friends with benefits?

You're still pretty drunk, but you can't bring yourself to bother about anything else as you crawl into your woven bed.

You can worry about the events of tonight tomorrow, but it's not like your agreement to Aonung's proposal means anything. Just sex- just helping the other out.

Nothing intimate.

At all.

[sorceresssundries]

The Faerie Tale of Demelza Starsong

Chapter 1 of 2

I have written a very self-indulgent backstory for my new OC! Inspired by classic fairy tales. (I just had to get it out of my system)

She is a Wood-Elf Warlock, and this is how her story started.

Deep in the Neverwinter Woods, where the forest teemed with so much life that the wind that whipped through the trees could be mistaken for its very breath, a small community of wood-elves thrived.

Their world was vibrant and joyful. They prospered below the towering trees crowned by clouds and birdsong, and above water that gathered in pools so green and still, outsiders had mistaken them for sheets of untouched jade. Many times, the lost or the bold had been dragged into their emerald depths by creatures not even the most ancient of forest-dwellers could name. Often, as the elves bathed and the little ones splashed in the woodland waters, the bones of the covetous and curious crunched beneath their bare feet, destined to feed the floor of the land they had tried to pillage. To nurture the forest as unforgiving as it was beautiful. 

In this place, a great beauty was born to parents who worshipped the hunter Mielikki. With hair as black as winter midnight, and eyes as gold as sun rays through shadow. The girl grew in peace and contentment, nourished by the warmth of her family and the sanctuary of the forest. She flourished, as the beautiful often do. 

But…the brightest flowers are easily plucked, and so it was with Demelza. 

As Demelza blossomed, so too did her pride and vanity. She became acutely aware of the beauty that set her apart and the adoration it stirred in others. Eyes that once merely passed began to linger, hungry and captivated, and what had begun as innocent gazes soon turned to greedy, covetous stares. Hands that were once respectful became bold, reaching out to touch her. She basked in it, revelling in the flattery, in the sensation of being wanted. She believed herself blessed with all that mattered, certain that everything else would follow. 

But, it was never enough. She possessed the heart of a dreamer and the soul of the wild.

Restless and unsatisfied, Demelza sought solace beyond the boundaries of her village. The warmth of community no longer called to her—what was it compared to the thrill of romance and adventure? Many evenings, she would escape into the deep woods, climbing into the boughs of untouched trees, where she could be alone beneath the stars. There, she would gaze at the heavens, her thoughts flickering like the distant lights that peeked through the canopy. She bathed, unafraid, in the jade pools that few dared approach, her naked form glistening beneath the moonlight. Creatures that made mortal men tremble flitted about her, their dark eyes watching as if mesmerised. She laughed as they swam around her feet, her laugh a bright, clear chime which, eventually, summoned and enraptured a being of deep and ancient magic. 

She was discovered by an Eladrin. A fae creature of beauty and grace who had been touched by the seasons. 

He was tall and lithe, with skin green and soft as the year’s first leaves. His long, flowing hair was unlike anything she had ever seen. Lush and mossy green, threaded with delicate flowers —petals of pink, white, and lavender woven seamlessly into his strands. The fragrance of them clung to him, and the air was sweeter for it. His eyes were the deepest emerald, and as they gazed at her, she felt as though the whole forest had turned to look at her. 

He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, and for the first time in her life she felt dull and grey in comparison. The air felt lighter, the colours of the forest sharper, more vivid. Demelza felt something stir deep inside her, a flutter in her chest that was new and exciting. 

He told her his name was Panos, and like the spring he resembled, he brought her to life. 

He spoke words made of silver and starlight. Of unending devotion, and unbreakable bonds. 

They fell into love like a dream unfolding, slowly at first, then all at once.

He would meet her in the quiet places of the woods where even the wind held its breath. They shared hours beneath ancient trees, exchanging whispers that felt like secrets. They began to explore each other’s hearts - and, inevitably, each other's bodies. 

One evening, under a canopy of blossoms that he summoned from the branches above, they laid together on a bed of soft moss. The air was thick with the scent of spring flowers, their petals drifting down like confetti. Their gazes met, and in that shared glance, something unspoken passed between them. His hand reached out, fingers tracing the line of her cheek, the curve of her jaw, before tangling in the dark waves of her hair.

Her breath hitched, heart racing as his touch set her skin alight, each brush of his fingers making her feel more alive, more desired than ever before. They moved slowly at first, exploring the contours of one another like explorers holding a precious discovery between their fingers. His lips, warm and soft, placed kisses along her neck, her collarbone, her chest, and to her it felt like worship.

Beneath him, Demelza felt herself unravel, her pride and vanity stripped away. His touch was different from the lovers she had known before - She could feel it in her soul and not just her skin. 

She was not just beautiful to him; she was everything.

As their bodies intertwined, they moved in rhythm with the pulse of the forest. The soft rustle of leaves, the gentle hum of the night, mirrored the beat of their reckless hearts. Time felt as though it had slipped away, and there was nothing else but the two of them.

When it was over, they lay together, limbs entwined, her head resting against his chest as he wove his fingers through her hair. The stars above seemed brighter, the air fresher, as if the forest itself had blessed their union.

From that night on, they were rarely apart. They made love in hidden glades, beside the jade pools, and beneath the swaying boughs of the great trees. With each touch, each whisper of her name, Demelza felt herself fall deeper under Panos' spell, lost in a love that consumed her more with every passing day.

As their love deepened, Demelza began to pull away from the life she had known. The village that had once been her home, the family that had cherished her, began to feel distant and small. What were the simple joys of her people compared to the wonder and magic that Panos had shown her? She spent less and less time with her parents and her friends. Her bow gathered dust, and the songs of the forest that had once called to her now were only echoes of music heard countless times before.

Her new home was with him, deep in the untouched corners of the forest, where no mortal had ever set foot. Panos would tell tales of the Feywild, of its endless twilight and shimmering courts of faerie. He spoke of rivers made of silver, where the moon herself bathed, and meadows that bloomed with flowers painted colours mortals couldn’t even imagine. Every moment with him felt like a dream she could not bear to wake from. 

Her parents noticed the change in her, but no words of warning could reach her. They pleaded for her to return, to remember her roots, but Demelza was lost. In her heart, she knew that she would soon leave her village for good, and the thought brought her no sorrow. After all, Panos had promised her a life of eternal beauty and love. What more could she want? She would often dream of the Feywild, imagining herself crowned with flowers, dancing through its endless forests, her hand forever in his. And every time Panos spoke of their future together, it felt as though the Gods themselves whispered his promises in her ears.

But there were moments - fleeting, like the shadows of clouds across the moon - when Demelza felt a strange unease. Sometimes, in the quiet moments when Panos was not speaking, when his touch lingered just a little too long, there was a darkness in his eyes, an unsettling depth that reminded her of the creatures lurking beneath the jade pools of the forest. But these moments passed quickly, brushed away by his gentle words and his radiant smile.

And so, Demelza remained entranced, unaware of the shadows his ancient light cast. For he was no ordinary Eladrin, he was a noble, an archfey, and a being of spectacular power. 

One sweltering day in the height of summer, when the air hung thick with heat and the forest buzzed with the languor of it, Demelza flitted through the treetops like a wisp of wind. Her steps were as light as a shadow, the golden sunlight dappling the earth far below her. The canopy above whispered secrets only the wind could carry, and something caught her sharp eyes - a visitor.

A human. Young, awkward, lost.

Demelza could tell from the way he moved, uncertain and slow, his armour too large for his slight frame, clinking and groaning as he stumbled through the undergrowth. Sweat trickled down his neck, dampening the blonde curls that clung to his flushed skin. His expression was one of determination, but his steps were full of hesitation. She smiled to herself. How sweet he looked with his rosy cheeks and wide, sky-blue eyes, so out of place in the ancient, untouched forest.

Perched silently in the boughs, Demelza watched him for a moment longer. She could see the way his gaze darted nervously, how he wiped his brow in frustration. His lips moved in prayer - a plea to a God she did not know. 

"A boy" she whispered to herself, though he was no child in the eyes of men. But, to Demelza, and in the world of the fae and the forest, he was something fragile - a leaf caught in the currents of a much older magic, blown far away from home. 

Deciding she would help him, for he was no threat to her, Demelza descended gracefully from the trees, her feet barely making a sound as she landed softly before him. The human gasped, stumbling back, his armour clinking loudly in the stillness of the forest. His eyes widened at the sight of her - her black hair falling like night around her shoulders, her golden eyes molten and warm. 

"Pardon me, my lady," the youth stammered, bowing clumsily, his armour creaking under the strain. His face flushed red from more than just the heat. "I did not mean to trespass... I would not wish to anger a nymph" His voice cracked with nerves. "I’m searching for my company, but I seem to have lost my way."

A nymph? How human, she thought.

Demelza’s smile widened. “Do not be afraid, sweet stranger,” she said, her voice like the rustle of leaves in the wind. “You are no trespasser here. Let me guide you.”

Her voice was the softest sound he had ever heard, and his anxiety melted away. He stared at her in awe, barely able to believe that such a creature had appeared before him. She looked nothing like the spirits of his stories. She was more radiant, more perfect than anything he had ever imagined.

Demelza extended her hand, gesturing for him to follow. The young man’s cheeks flushed deeper, and he nodded, unable to take his eyes away from the beauty of her. As they walked, Demelza guided him effortlessly through the dense undergrowth, her steps barely making a sound, while he stumbled and clanked in his heavy armour. 

When they reached the edge of the forest, the young soldier hesitated, his gaze lingering on her, filled with the light of a first love. “Thank you, my lady,” he said, his voice thick. “Without your help, I would have wandered for days. I... I must repay you for your kindness. I am Jorge. My company is camped nearby, and we will be here for another tenday. Please, allow me to bring you offerings. I—" He hesitated, then added with an innocent earnestness, "It would honour me to see you again.”

Demelza’s grin turned soft, amused. “Your presence has been gift enough,” she replied, but he shook his head insistently.

“No, I must repay you,” he said, his eyes filled with devotion. “I will leave my gifts here at midnight, and I pray you will accept them.”

“Very well,” she agreed, indulging him. “I will look for your offerings, and I shall meet you here again, at midnight.”

With a clumsy bow, Jorge turned and walked back toward the world of men, leaving Demelza standing at the edge of the forest, her eyes lingering on his retreating form. It was a sweet, harmless encounter, she thought—a pretty distraction, nothing more.

But the forest had eyes, and not all of them were kind.

Over the next few nights, Demelza slipped away from Panos while he slept, making her way through the trees to meet the boy who wished to honour her. She had no need for his gifts—golden coins, silk, and shining stones—but she accepted them all with a playful smile. After all, she had done him a kindness, had she not? Surely, she deserved some small reward for her good deed.

Jorge would always be there, waiting for her in the moonlight, his face full of youthful devotion. One night, he presented her with a topaz, gleaming like sunlight trapped in stone.

“The colour of your eyes.” He said. “The gods themselves must be artists to create eyes in such a shade.”

Demelza’s heart thrummed with the thrill of being adored, “Keep it,” she told him with a smile. “As a reminder of me.”

She would stay with him for an hour each night, and he would tell stories of his home and his family who waited for him, he would read her poetry he had written - and his words shone with such fervour, she thought she had never heard such truth or beauty before. 

“Read me more, please” She had asked as he rested against the trunk of a great oak, and she lay upon one of the boughs above him, her raven hair dangling down like sweeping tendrils of blackest willow.

“I will read you them all” He promised. “When I return, after the war, I will recite every work of the great poets. The ones who crafted whole worlds and endless magic out of ink and paper. Who have forged oaths and built cities for their beloveds out of nothing but words. I would read you the first letters of love ever written, and every one since - and it would still not do my feelings for you justice.”

He was only twenty, untouched by another’s heart or hands, and he believed, in the purity of his love for Demelza, that this was the happiest a person could ever be.

Demelza did not love him as he loved her. Yet she had enjoyed his company—more than his gifts, more than the trinkets and baubles he brought. It was his poetry, his stories, his innocent and unblemished adoration that had woven itself around her, like the softest silk, binding her to him in a gentle, fleeting affection.

And so, when the time came for him to depart, the boy from the city was stricken with grief. His heart was heavy as he wandered through the forest for what would be their last meeting. There were no poems on his lips this time, no glittering stones or silks in his hands—only the weight of sorrow. His wide eyes gazed up at the branches where Demelza had often perched, committing every detail of her home to memory, as if doing so might keep her closer.

He felt it then—a sensation of being watched.

“Looking for someone, young one?” a voice called out from the shadows.

Jorge turned and beheld a figure stepping out from between the trunks of two great oaks. Panos, shadowed and skulking, his eyes shimmering in the dark. Though the boy had never met him, the presence of the Eladrin filled him with awe - and dread.

Panos had changed. He was no longer the embodiment of spring with his fresh green hues and delicate blossoms. No longer the nimble figure of beauty that Demelza adored. Now he was summer, fierce and searing. His skin had deepened into a burnished copper. His hair, once a crown of wildflowers, now blazed like fire—a mane of molten red that crackled and shimmered as if alive. His once bright, chime-like voice had transformed into something darker, heavier—a slow burn of embers beneath a surface of smouldering fire.

"I… I am meeting somebody," Jorge stammered, his voice trembling. "My love. I’m… I’m bidding her farewell."

Panos smiled, though there was no warmth in it, only a thin curve of cruelty. "Ah, Demelza," he said softly, the name rolling off his tongue like a sigh. His eyes bore into the boy's, sharp as a dagger. "She does not love you. You are a fool to think otherwise."

Jorge hesitated, his confusion deepening, caught between the weight of Panos' gaze and the strange mixture of jealousy and something resembling pity in the Eladrin's words. 

Panos stepped closer, his movements graceful, his voice now smooth and silken, wrapping itself around the boy’s mind like ivy choking a tree. Each word slipped beneath his skin, sinking deep, and squeezing his freshly-touched heart. The voice was no longer just around him, it was inside him—low, feral, an echo that rumbled through the tender caverns of his innocence and kindness. It scraped at those gentle parts, tearing them apart, shredding them into raw strips of pain and confusion.

"But you could make her see," Panos purred, his words like velvet over glass. "You could make her understand. Don’t you deserve more from her?"

The boy’s heart quivered. He loved Demelza with all the purity of youth, but this ancient magic, the subtle malice in Panos' voice, began to twist it. It began to rot. He no longer felt the sweet joy of loving her; instead, a creeping bitterness seeped into his bones.

"I… I don’t know," Jorge whispered.

Panos circled him like a predator, his gaze never leaving the boy, his words soft, darker now, almost a whisper in his ear. "You were nothing more than a passing fancy to her, a pretty trinket, a toy. Is that what you want to be? A discarded thing?" His eyes gleamed with a cruel light, "Or do you want more?"

Jorge trembled, his heart torn. This ancient, insidious magic, was too strong for one as soft as him. It dug into his mind, warping his thoughts. The pure, untainted love he had for her now festered, darkening into something light could no longer reach.

Panos' voice slipped deeper, each word like venom. "You deserve her love, her devotion. She should be yours."

"I just… I want her to know… how much it hurts"

"Then go," Panos whispered, his voice dripping with poison disguised as honey. "Go, and make her understand. Show her what it means to cast aside a heart so freely given."

Jorge’s eyes glazed over, the life and light that had once danced in their blue depths now dulled, muted, dead. His mind was no longer his own, fully entangled in Panos' thrall. The love he had once cherished had soured into vengeance. 

With a final nod from Panos, Jorge turned and began to walk back into the forest, his steps steady, his heart twisted, his hand drifting toward the hilt of his blade. He marched toward the place where Demelza waited, all of his poetry forgotten.

[theunfortunateplace]

Say you love me (Neteyam X OC!Na’vi) Chapter 18

Read On Ao3 Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Pairing (Neteyam X Original Metkayina Female Character)

Synopsis: follow Luaewe as her world literally gets turned upside down with new na’vi joining her village. Never having to face many obstacles besides finding her way back home. How will she be able to handle the constant jealousy she's faced with and an unwanted love triangle. Disclaimer: All characters in this fic have been aged up for the convenience of storytelling and to match the aging system up with both Pandora and Earth

AGES

OC Luaewe-22 Neteyam-23 Kiri-23 Lo'ak-21 Ao'nung-23 Tsireya-21

Warnings: Smut, Thigh fucking, P in V, Marking, Heavy impreg talk, Breeding kink, Creampie (let me know if I missed anything else)

I awoke bright and early along with the Sully family. 'Teyam and I said goodbye to my mother with her of course not sparing me the kisses. Even Neteyam got smothered in some. This trip was originally supposed to be us two but it quickly turned into a family trip. Was Neteyam happy about that? Nope. Not one bit but he eventually got over it. I on the other hand was excited regardless I never traveled that far before.

Travels like that were only meant for the traders of the clan. “Are you sure you packed everything?” I heard Reya ask as we approached the others by the ikran. “Of course I did! I even packed extra for you.” Lo’ak answered back while giving his ikran a pet. She was tagging along too her mother insisted it was the right thing to do and Lo’ak didn’t want to leave her alone. 

“Why do I have the feeling they will be bickering the whole travel?” Neteyam whispered in my ear as we approached his ikran. I chuckled and looked up at him. “ because it’s highly likely that it’s going to happen, but I’m sure if you fly fast enough we won’t hear it.” I winked at him causing him to smirk at me. He leaned down and kissed my lips. 

I felt his hand caress my face as he deepened it. “Ma teyam did you drink the tea this morning?” I asked in between kisses. He pulled apart resting his forehead on mine. “Yeah…I did…maybe we should have made this trip sooner.” He said in a worried tone. 

I tossed the items my mom requested for me to bring on his ikran and cupped his face. “You'll be fine… if you feel like you need to take a break do it. Don’t push yourself harder than you need to.” He nodded his head placing one last kiss on my lips.

“OK, love birds, are you guys done sucking face so we can fly out?” I heard Jake call out as he finished loading everything up. I heard Neteyam groan pulling away fully reaching to secure the sack I placed on top. 

I chuckled and quickly placed my hand on his. gesturing for him to check if the saddle and everything else were secured. I looked over at Kiri as she talked with Spider who sat in front of her. I still have yet to have a proper conversation with him… every time I try to it’s like he avoids me as if I were ill.  I shook my head turning back to the ikran that was staring me down. I gave him a pat on the head only for him to blow air through his nose at me nudging while against my hand. “ you ready for the ride big guy?” His face changed making me raise a brow confused by his reaction, but he quickly licked a long strip on my cheek. I groaned and patted his head. 

“Yup-yup, I love you too.” I walked off wiping all the slobber away and shook my head that dude needs to work on expressing his feelings in another way. I climbed on top and sat towards the front in my normal spot. I can’t believe I would be going to the forest…. Let alone meeting his grandmother. I felt his eyes lingering from behind me causing me to look and sure enough he was. 

We didn’t have much time and every second we spent here the less time we had to make it there before his rut. “OK, is everyone ready?” I asked shaking the worriedness from my voice. I gestured to 'Teyam to get on and he followed. “All set!” Jake called out. Before I could even reply back I felt 'Teyam wrap his arm around me tightly inching closer to me. “You know the drill hold on tight.” I gripped the leather strap and he took flight. 

I gasped feeling the wind rush past my face as the ikran screeched out. No matter how many times I fly with him it never gets old. 

Jake took his position leading us in the front while Neteyam followed closely behind. Ever so often I could hear their voices communicating their next move or to ask questions. The technology was all new to me. Neteyam didn’t wear the device often but I guess since we are going to the forest it’s necessary.

I wonder if they use it because you can’t hear anyone when flying and it’s not like us, the Metkayina, where we have sign language….

My mind was filled with so many questions. Sure I’ve wondered how different clans lived their life but it just dawned upon me that the Omaticaya use many forms of human technology… 

My mind was like this for hours new thoughts popped in. Questioning many different things it wasn’t until I felt a drastic shift in our direction that I realized we were making our first stop. 

He landed the ikran and got off. Holding a hand out to assist me, I smiled and thanked him with a kiss causing him to smirk. 

“Gosh, I have to pee!” I hear Reya say as she practically runs off somewhere. I chuckled and looked over to Kiri and Spider. I locked eyes with Spider and I saw nothing but fear in his eyes. Even though I was waving and smiling at the pair. I bit my lip and turned back to Neteyam who was looking at me with a confused face. 

“What's wrong?” He asked I shook my head reaching for the snack bag and pulling out some dried fish. “It's nothing.” I looked up and smiled at him only for him to caress my cheek. He leaned down moving closer to my lips, when I suddenly I heard a crunch. I opened my eyes to find this man chewing on my damn fish. 

“You little-“ he abruptly kissed my lips and started running away. “ I’m gonna get you once we get to the forest, you fish thief!” I yelled out. I huffed and ate the remains fish in my hand and walked over to Lo’ak who was stretching his legs out. 

“How was the ride so far?” I asked he scoffed and smirked. “ I’m sure you can guess what it was like Luaewe.” I chuckled and shook my head. 

“Well, it’s almost eclipse she will go to sleep soon, and the crankiness will wear off.” He smiled slightly and looked away for a short moment. “ I don’t suppose you have something that will help with nausea?” I smiled and patted his shoulder. 

“And who would I be if I wasn’t prepared for everyone? Come I’ll give you a couple of things to give her.” He let out a sigh of relief and quickly walked over with me. 

I undid the knot on the satchel that held all my medicine and took out some candy I made. “These should help.” He raised a brow. “You sure, because it just looks like candy to me.” 

I chuckled. “It is candy, I made it. I figured we wouldn’t have time to sit and brew tea and all that extra stuff…well you guys might but Neteyam and I don’t.” 

He hummed.” You know that’s a really smart idea. I never seen something like this.” I smiled and thanked him. He looked off again and scratched the back of his head causing me to raise my brow. 

Is there something else wrong? Why is he acting like this? Normally he’s cracking jokes or goofing around or something. “OK, what's going on? This.” I moved my hands in a circular motion. “ is making me worried.” 

“ I- shit…. You know this is really awkward to talk about especially considering you’re my brother's mate and now my sister...” I huffed and placed my hands on my hips.  What the hell is he trying to say? And why is it so hard? “Lo'ak?” He looked at me directly. “ Just say it.”

I chuckled, causing him to smile. “How did you know you were in love… what did it feel like?” I blinked slowly, completely stunned by the question. 

“Wow ok, I wasn’t expecting that um…. Well ha….At first, I was extremely conflicted due to some stuff that happened in my past… I don’t think there was a specific incident that made me love him, it was really everything combined. Like sure when you like someone you feel a pull or whatever but every second I wasn’t with him felt emptiness… when he held me even at the most awkward times.” I chuckled and looked off into the distance. “ It's like this warmth engulfed me and I’m not talking about body heat. I could literally feel his love. I don’t know, it's hard to explain but when you know you know.” 

I looked back at him only to find him in a transfixed state. As if he were thinking really hard. It wasn’t until Reya called out to him that he snapped out of it. We don’t have deep conversations together but I could tell he was going through something.

I felt arms wrap around me from the back and I smiled leaning into his chest. He placed a kiss on my forehead and hummed. “ Where did you run off to fish stealer?” He looked down and chuckled. 

“ I had to handle some business before we headed back out.” I raised a brow in confusion. I mean if he had to use the bathroom he could of ju- ooooooooh. I turned around and he tilted his head. 

“ Why didn’t you ask? I would've helped.” I said lowly. He smiled and gently grazed his thumb against my cheek. “Ma orae if I did that I definitely would have not been able to hold back and would have pushed myself into an early rut.” I pouted but accepted his words. That’s the last thing either of us want. “You're right.....well, did you at least get the satisfaction you needed?” He laughed out and gently ran his hands up and down my back only for him to firmly grasp my ass making me gasp out in shock. “‘'Teyam, your family is right there!” I whispered, yelled, looking around quickly to make sure no one was watching 

He lowered his face to my ear and playfully nipped it.“Shh, it's not like they would notice.” Of course they would you’re literally gripping my ass in broad daylight gosh I hope Tuk isn’t looking over here!

“It was enough, but I would have preferred that tight little pussy you have.” I playfully swatted his arm causing him to chuckle moving his head away. “You can be touchy all you want but you better keep that mouth in check!” I pointed my finger at him and furrowed my brows. 

“OK, I’ll keep it in check. Wouldn’t want to accidentally turn you on, or we would be stuck here for days and I probably would end up with a broken arm again.” 

Too late for that ‘'Teyam, and I’m sure he can tell because that damn smirk on his face is staying put. He leaned down kissing my lips. I felt his hands starting to grope my ass as he tried to deepen the kiss. I pulled away quickly and pushed his chest away. He looked at me as if I had betrayed him but quickly came back to his senses. “Shit, I’m sorry.” He pulled back fully and let out a frustrated sigh. 

I shook my head and gave his arm a squeeze. “It's okay, that’s why I’m here to keep you in check.” I said trying to lighten the mood, he let out a soft chuckle and nodded his head. “We should head back out. I’m not sure if everyone else is ready but we gotta go.” He said while looking around. 

He pressed his fingers on the device and spoke. “Me and Luaewe are gonna head out first.”  I watched as Jake popped his head up from whatever he was doing. “OK, we will meet at the third stop.” 

I reached back into the back and took out another piece of dried fish. I was just standing there watching them both communicate but I had no clue what they were saying. I felt Neteyam’s hand graze my lower back. 

I turn away from the bag making sure to close it and look up while taking a bite of the fish. He chuckled and leaned down. I instinctively moved away having a feeling he would take another bite from me but he held me in place and kissed my forehead.

“Come on, my pretty girl it’s time to go.” Heat suddenly rose to my face causing me to look away. But I quickly grabbed the saddle and hopped up. He positioned himself behind me swiftly connecting his kuru. He wrapped his arm around my midsection and before I knew it we were off in the air again. 

I have no clue when the next stop will be maybe hours from now well into Eclipse. I bit my lip feeling him reposition himself behind me as we leveled out in the air. Gosh, this was going to be a difficult ride. I mean I knew it was but shit his fucking dick is pressed up against my ass and it’s taking everything in me not to reach back and grab it. 

But the last thing I want is for us to crash into the ocean……this is gonna be a long trip. 

-

“OK, we will camp here for tonight leave out early morning and meet up with everyone at the third stop.” I hum as he helps me back off the ikran. 

“How many more stops till we get there?” He walked over to the bags and took some off. “maybe two more, it all depends on the weather really.” 

I smile and fold my hands together. That’s awesome we’ll I’m sure the weather won-“ the sound of thunder crashed interrupting me. “Well shit.” He chuckled as I looked up to see if there were any rain clouds. 

I quickly walked over to him and took some of the bags. “Will those be alright in the rain I’m not sure how your material holds up?” We moved under a tree and set everything down. “Yeah, it's made out of leather and we waterproofed it…. It would be ideal if we found a cave if it’s going to rain but we will have to make do with this tree.” He said fiddling with something in the bags. I tried to help but he told me to just sit so I did. 

If I knew one thing about Neteyam it’s that if he tells you he’s got it and doesn’t need help he doesn’t. Well until you hear cursing or a loud noise. I watched as he strung up the material that would keep us dry.  

I shook my head subtly walking back over to him and went into the bag taking out the blanket we would sleep on. I heard his playful scoff from behind me and I smiled. He should have known I wouldn’t stay put. I jolted up feeling a sudden wetness on my back. “Looks like we landed just in time.” He said while quietly moving the other bags under the material. I hummed and sat down watching the rain hit the sand. “ I should have known not to jinx the weather.” I lightly chuckle as I feel him pull me closer and wrap his arms around my waist. 

“It's fine, at least we get to enjoy the rain together…. You know I just realized this is the first time since mating  we will sleep alone.” I smiled and rested my head against his chest. 

“You're right… it’s weird not having Tuk trying to infiltrate our cuddle time or my mom waking us up.” I shook my head. I’ll never forget the day when Neteyam and I were about to have our afternoon nap. Anyone walking by would think we were about to have sex with how intense we kiss before we sleep. 

But that didn’t matter to Tuk. She ran into our area and jumped on us complaining how it was unfair we didn’t spend time with her as much as we do with each other. 

“Mhm, we are finally alone. Maybe when we get back our marui will be finished hopefully not though. It’s my duty- well back in my clan once mated the male or one who initiated creates the hammock or   marui as you guys call it.” 

I raised a brow confused do they not sleep in marui’s like us. “ wait so how do you guys sleep?” 

“ in hammocks. There are individual ones, then ones for couples, and lastly the family ones but after moving to the mountains because of the war… we had to set up tents you can still sleep in the hammocks inside or sleep on the floor…. It’s kinda complicated you’ll see when we get there.” I hummed and moved forward reaching for some fruit. 

“ I’m excited especially since you guys really talk up the forest.” He chuckled while placing a kiss on top of my head. 

“ because it deserves to be talked up!” He held his hand out and I placed some of the fruit in his hand willingly. “ you think Sa'nok will make some porridge for me?” He let out a laugh and I looked up with a serious face. “ I’m serious! You said it was better so now that I’ll be there I can’t leave without tasting it!”

“You'll get your porridge don’t worry… and the other delicious foods,” I closed my eyes and hummed. That’s another thing I had no clue about. The types of food they ate… 

I felt his face dip against my neck lightly nipping at my skin. “Why do you have to smell so good ma Orae?” He grunted against me. I bit my lip feeling his dick press against my back. “ I don’t know why this time around is so hard for me but shit!” I felt him squeeze my hips trying to lift me up but continued to restrain himself. 

“Let me help you-“ I said trying to turn around he lowly hissed warning me to stay put. “Luaewe, you know we can’t.” He strained. 

“But it’s hurting you! I can’t stand seeing you this way, 'Teyam. You don’t have to put it in. I can jerk you off or you can put it in between my legs.”  

He nipped my neck again as his hand slid around to the front forcefully cupping my pussy. My breath shuddered at his fingers grazing my clothed clit.

He let out a deep chuckle against the back of my neck but cursed as I touched his thigh. I was still wet from earlier. It’s probably what’s driving him to behave like this. Gosh, I feel so bad! And the fact that I can’t even help. “My hand isn’t even fully touching your pussy and I can feel how wet it is.” 

He playfully tapped against my clit causing me to jolt back in surprise. “What I would do to be inside you right now… feeling that tight hole squeeze me as I fill you up with my cum.”  I let out a whimper as he continued to speak in my ear. 

Fuck I don’t remember him talking this dirty before. I let a moan slip from my mouth and I could feel him smirk against me. “But this will have to do. Lay down for me sweetie.” He patted my thighs letting me know what he decided and I followed his instructions. 

I laid down on my side with my thighs pressed together looking back waiting for him to move closer to me. He looked at my ass hungrily grabbing it with his hand. Even with hands as big as his some of it flowed out between his fingers. 

He chuckled lowly moving his hands up my hips speedily undoing my tweng. His chest pressed up against my back causing me to lean into him. He dipped his face back into the crevice of my neck and let out a deep growl. “You smell so good.” His fingers found their way to my folds massaging my entrance. I let out an airy moan reaching back to hold his forearm. “So wet for me. Fuck I just want to be in you!” 

You and me both! “Please?” I let go of his arm reaching back further for his cock that was pressed between my ass. “ I don’t want your fingers. Put it between my legs ''Teyam.” I gave up trying not to sound desperate right now. I wanted my mate and I couldn’t even have him the way I wanted.

He moaned as I gripped the base of his cock as I lifted my leg up slightly. “mmmm.” I bit back my moan as I rolled my hips back into him. Setting him in place nestled snugly between my folds.  He forcefully grabbed my face detaching his lips from my now abused neck and latching them onto my lips. 

He started moving slowly at first. Almost antagonizingly slow. Even in his horny pre-rut filled brain he still had it in him to torture me. But that all came to an end very quickly. His hand caressed my body spending extra time on my breast. When suddenly he sped up out of nowhere causing me to jolt forward with the increase in stimulation. 

“ ssshit!” I moaned out while gripping his arm once again as he pulled me back holding me still. “I’m not even in you and you’re running?” He scoffed “How is my mate supposed to tend to me when she can’t even take my cock rubbing up against their tight little pussy huh?”

He lowered his hand to my clit rubbing it ferociously. I gasped, feeling an orgasm fast approaching but he switched up the pace on purpose. “Please please please please please-“ I choked out begging for him to make me cum but he refused. He pulled his hand away gripping my breast again. 

“Fuck, I love these! And your fucking ass. I wonder how big they’ll get when you swell with my child.”  It’s just his pre-rut talking. It’s just his pre-rut talking. I chanted to myself trying to rationalize his words. He leaned down kissing me once again quickly deepening it. “Please let me cum.” I begged against his lips. 

He smirked moving to my ear. “You wanna cum? Yet my cock isn’t in you? You think I’ll let you do that?” I whined getting frustrated with this game! “All you have to do is-“

“Just fuck me already damn it!”  I shouted out fed up with all this teasing and non fucking. Maybe I’m out of my mind maybe I’m just fucking horny but if he cheats me out of another orgasm I will lose it! 

I felt him smirk pulling back slightly and slowly pushing into me. “Yes yes yes yes!” I chanted as the swell of his cock stretched me. His lustful moans filled my ears as he settled deeply into me. I gasped, feeling our Kuru’s connection. I didn’t even feel him touch mine. 

He moved slowly trying not to hurt me but he could tell I was fine and quickly picked up pace. The sounds of our skin hitting and the sound of my squelching pussy overpowered the downpour that was upon us. Thank Eywa we were alone or else this would be an embarrassing thing to happen with everyone there.  Though his speed picked up his strokes were deep and with the curve of his cock it almost felt like it was intentional. 

“T- 'Teyam, you're too deep!”  His hand went back to my breast rolling my nipple in between his fingertips. I moaned out arching my back from the new stimulation. He chuckled sinisterly knowing exactly what he was doing. 

“You're mine.” He nipped my ear with his teeth “If your breasts are this sensitive now just imagine what they’d feel like full of milk.” His stroke grew deeper, more aggressive. I cried out feeling him grow larger. How is that even possible? “Fuck ‘'Teyam please you’re too-“ 

He growled tightening his hold on me refusing to let go. “ I’m gonna fucking breed you! I’m gonna get you pregnant muntxate.” My pussy clenched vigorously around him causing him to chuckle. “You like that huh? You like when I say I’m gonna get you pregnant hm?” 

His hand moved to my belly causing me to gasp. “ I’m gonna love watching you waddle around the village parading that round belly. Having it be a physical example of what I did to you.”  He said while caressing my belly as if a bump were already there 

He bit down onto my shoulder pushing me right over the edge. He held me tight as a scream of pure pleasure ripped through my throat. My body convulsed from how intense the orgasm hit me. But despite how forceful it was he continued to rut into me as his knot began to swell. I couldn't help but get turned on even more. Knowing the risk of us already performing tsaheylu. If he were to knot me, I would for sure get pregnant.  

He bit down harder as his cock twitched inside of me spurting his hot cum against my cervix. I can only imagine what it feels like to be stuffed with his knot. 

I reached placing my hand on his thigh and rubbing it as he came down from his high. His soft lips peppered my neck with kisses causing me to smile. “Fuck.” He breathed out, “I- I'm sorry, my love…… I got carried away shit.” I shook my head while attempting to look back. 

“It's okay, you're alright right?” 

“Mhm,” he said lowly while dipping his face in my neck still trying to calm his breathing.  I reached back brushing the braids out of his face. “Then everything is fine and you feel relieved no?” He nodded his head and I smiled. 

“Then there’s no need to worry ‘'Teyam.”I tried to pull away to fully check out his arm but instead, he tightened his hold around my waist. I chuckled while tapping his hand. 

“Alright big guy, let me go I need to properly check your arm.” He groaned and I couldn’t help but let out a little laugh at his antics.  But my laughter was quickly replaced by a shudder of my breath as he pulled out of me causing the cum to rush out of me. 

“Gosh!” It felt almost erotic feeling the warmth of his seed run out of me and onto my inner thigh. I looked back to see his glistening cock slowly relax and knot fully deflate. I sat up with him following suit and reached for his arm. 

Unlike Ronal, I wouldn’t be able to tell the healing status when most of it had healed already but I can’t tell if it’s broken. I felt around for anything out of place and listened to him for any small sounds to slip from him. But there was nothing everything was fine. I looked up and smiled while letting his arm down, “Nothing is broken.” I said softly 

He reached up to caress my face and pulled me in for a kiss. “Thank you.” I giggled against his lips and patted his thigh. 

“It’s my duty.” I squealed as he pulled me into his lap and laid down. “ ‘Teyam! We have to wash up.” I whined only for him to shush me. 

I let out a groan and laid my head on his chest accepting defeat. His cum is gonna get all crusty! “You're gonna be the one scrubbing your cum off of me!” Laughter erupted from his chest 

He cupped my ass while sitting back up. Good because I didn’t want to deal with that in the morning. “You just won’t let me enjoy my muntxate huh?” He said while standing up still holding onto me. 

“You must want a crusted-up muntxate then if you thought I would just let you let me lay there! Skin as smooth as mine takes care!” He shook his head playfully and scoffed. 

 I felt him playfully tap my ass, “alright, let's make it quick then”. He looked out from under the material keeping us dry and hummed. “It looks like the rain slowed down but we should still make it quick. 

“Are you gonna put me down?” I asked while tilting my head he smirked. “No, this is payment for not letting me lay down with you.” I groaned playfully but I enjoyed it when he carried me. To him, I practically weighed nothing. I leaned that quickly from how many times he scooped me up and placed me in his lap. 

I smiled and shook my head as I pushed my face into his neck. “Nga yawne lu oer“ 

“ I love you too,” he says.  I tried to shove my face deeper and he chuckled. The rest of the night was spent with us bathing and playing around in the water longer than we should have but we eventually got out and went back to ‘camp’ as Neteyam called it. 

I was cuddled up against his warm chest with his arms wrapped around me. I listened to his heartbeat while the sounds of light rainfall could be heard in the back. I gasped while closing my eyes feeling the connection of our kurus. 

His hand grazed my back as he placed a kiss on my forehead. “Sleep Ma Oare, I’m not going anywhere.”  He said in a low tired voice. I continued to listen as the sound of his heart beating turned into a trance….

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[anna-the-undertaker]

Shadows of Divinity

I got to thinking about Nephilim (the children of humans and angels) and it gave me an idea: What if MC had the characteristics and strength of a Nephilim, except much more subdued so she isn't 4000ft tall, but a more manageable height of 8 or 9ft (I pictured a physique like Lady Dimitrescu from Resident Evil Village). So now I have created an OC and this may turn into a whole thing of its own.

Summary: Summoned unexpectedly to the Devildom, Nephila—an imposing figure with an ethereal grace—finds herself navigating a world of demons, secrets, and hidden truths. Towering above those around her, Nephila’s presence commands attention, but it’s the sense of something more, something ancient, that truly unsettles those she encounters. With no knowledge of her own mysterious origins, Nephila must uncover the secrets of her family's lineage while contending with the intrigue and suspicion that follow her every step. As the Brothers, the Royals, and the angels attempt to unravel the enigma that is Nephila, they are drawn into a web of past events and divine legacy that could reshape the very fabric of the Devildom.

Chapter Two

Chapter One: Arrival

The sensation was unlike anything Nephilia had ever experienced. One moment, she was at home, enveloped in the familiar hum of the mundane, and the next, she was hurtling through a vortex of swirling shadows and distant, echoing whispers. The world around her blurred into a tempest of colors, the edges of reality fraying as she was pulled inexorably toward an unknown destination.

Then, with a suddenness that left her breathless, everything snapped back into place. The disorienting whirl of magic ceased, and Nephilia found herself standing in a room unlike any she had ever seen before.

She blinked, her vision adjusting to the dim, amber light that filled the space. The room was vast, its high, vaulted ceilings disappearing into shadow. Ornate pillars carved with intricate designs of twisted vines and serpentine creatures lined the walls, their surfaces gleaming faintly in the flickering light of countless candelabras and the chandelier. The air was heavy with the scent of incense and something darker, more ancient—something that spoke of power and age.

Before her, arranged in a line upon some kind of dais, were seven thrones, each distinct in its design and ornamentation. They were grand, crafted from dark wood, and adorned with jewels and precious metals that caught the light. Yet, despite their grandeur, they were dwarfed by the throne that sat above them. This throne was larger, more imposing, its back carved with intricate patterns that seemed to shift and twist when looked at too closely. It was a seat of power, unmistakably so, and its presence filled the room with a quiet, oppressive authority.

Nephilia took in her surroundings with a steady calm. She had always been tall—taller than most men, with a presence that commanded attention whether she sought it or not. Her height, combined with her statuesque build, had often made others wary of her, though she had grown accustomed to the stares and whispers. But here, in this place, she felt something different. Not intimidation, but a sense of anticipation, as if this room, this gathering, had been waiting for her arrival.

As her gaze moved from the thrones to the figures seated upon them, Nephilia felt the weight of their attention settle on her. There were five of them, all male, each as distinct as the thrones they occupied. They watched her with varying degrees of curiosity, surprise, and—at least in one case—something close to indifference.

The first to break the silence was the man seated in the largest throne. He was striking, with dark red hair and golden eyes that gleamed with a warm, welcoming light. Despite the grandeur of his throne, there was an openness to his expression that put her at ease, even as the power he radiated made it clear that he was no ordinary being.

"Welcome to the Devildom," he said, his voice deep and resonant, filling the hall with its warmth. "My name is Diavolo, and I am the ruler of this realm."

Nephilia nodded, her mind racing as she processed his words. "The Devildom," she repeated, more to herself than to him. "As in... the devil... and demons?"

Diavolo’s smile widened, clearly pleased by her composure. "Indeed. This is the Royal Academy of Diavolo... though we just call it RAD. This is where we officers of the student council hold our meetings and conduct our business. I'm the president of said council. You have been summoned here as part of an exchange program between the human world and the Devildom. We’ve been expecting you."

"Expecting me?" Nephilia echoed, a hint of confusion slipping into her tone. "What exactly is this exchange program?"

Another voice cut through the air—this one smooth and authoritative, with an edge of command that demanded attention. The speaker was a man with midnight-black hair slicked back in perfect order, his sharp features accentuated by the dark, tailored suit he wore. His eyes, a piercing crimson, were fixed on Nephilia with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.

"This exchange program is designed to foster understanding between the demon realm, human realm, and celestial realm" the man said, his tone measured but with an undercurrent of suspicion. "You are one of two chosen to represent humanity. However, this... was unexpected."

"This is Lucifer," Diavolo added. "He is the Avatar of Pride. He's also the vice president of the student council and my right-hand man...and not just in title, I assure you. Beyond that, he's also my most trusted friend."

Nephilia met his gaze evenly, unflinching. "What was unexpected?"

Lucifer allowed a slight frown to crease his brow. "Your appearance. We were prepared for the arrival of a human, but we weren't expecting this."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Nephilia asked, her confusion deepening.

"Lucifer," Diavolo interjected gently, "we can address those concerns later. For now, let us properly welcome our guest and introduce ourselves."

Lucifer inclined his head slightly, though his gaze remained wary. "Of course, my lord."

As the tension in the room eased, another figure spoke up—a man with champagne colored hair and a striking, ethereal beauty that was almost otherworldly. His eyes sparkled with curiosity, and a playful smile tugged at his lips as he regarded Nephilia.

"My, my, aren’t you a fascinating sight," he purred, his voice laced with charm. "I’m Asmodeus, the Avatar of Lust, but you can call me Asmo. I must say, it’s been a while since I’ve seen someone so... commanding. You must be quite popular back in the human realm."

Nephilia raised an eyebrow at his flirtatious tone but chose to ignore it. "I wouldn’t say that," she replied simply.

Asmo chuckled, clearly amused by her lack of reaction. "Well, we’ll see about that. There’s something about you, darling. You’re like a breath of fresh air in this dark, dreary place."

A soft grunt of agreement came from the next throne over, where a towering man with broad shoulders and a serious expression sat. His hair was a deep orange, and his eyes were a striking shade of amethyste that seemed almost unnatural. Despite his intimidating size, there was a gentleness and indifference in his gaze as he looked at Nephilia.

"You look strong," he said simply, his voice rumbling through the hall. "That’s good."

Nephilia offered him a small smile, sensing that his words were genuine. "Thank you."

Diavolo smiled again, "This is the Avatar of Gluttony."

Lucifer’s crimson eyes narrowed slightly as he observed the exchange. "It is unwise to judge based on appearances alone, Beel," he warned. "Strength in one realm does not necessarily translate to strength in another."

Beel shrugged, unfazed by Lucifer’s caution. "Maybe. But I still think she’ll do fine. Are we almost done? I'm hungry, Lucifer."

"That's too bad," he replied. "Behave yourself."

Beel looked away sadly, his stomach rumbling loudly.

Before Nephilia could say anything, the final figure seated on the furthest throne, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. His voice was cold, analytical, and carried an undercurrent of intellectual superiority. He was lean, with sharp features and blond hair that contrasted sharply with the darkness around him. His eyes, a piercing green, were fixed on Nephilia with a calculating gaze.

"Strong or not, it is clear that she is not an ordinary human," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "Her aura is highly unusual."

Nephilia met his gaze steadily. "And you are?"

"Satan," he replied coolly, "the Avatar of Wrath."

"Figures," she muttered under her breath, eliciting a faint smirk from Asmo.

Diavolo clapped his hands together, drawing the attention back to him. "There’s someone else you should meet," he said. "Allow me to introduce Barbatos, my most trusted butler and advisor."

Nephilia’s gaze followed Diavolo’s gesture, her eyes widening slightly as a figure stepped forward from the shadows behind the prince. Tall and composed, Barbatos moved with the quiet confidence of someone who was not only accustomed to blending into the background but who had mastered the art of it. His presence was so subtle, so unassuming, that Nephilia was genuinely startled that she hadn’t noticed him before. It was as if he had materialized out of thin air.

Barbatos bowed deeply, a gesture of perfect grace and respect. His dark green eyes, sharp and perceptive, met Nephilia’s with a hint of curiosity as he straightened. "It is an honor to make your acquaintance," he said, his voice smooth and polished, yet carrying a weight that suggested layers of knowledge and experience beneath the surface.

Nephilia gave a slight nod of her own, surprised by the formality of it all. "It's nice to meet you all, I am Nephilia, but you can call me Neph." she replied, her voice steady despite her internal surprise at the butler’s near-invisibility moments before.

Barbatos’s gaze remained fixed on her, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. "Your name is quite unique," he observed, his tone polite but inquisitive.

A wry chuckle escaped Nephilia’s lips, and she shook her head slightly. "My parents thought they were being clever," she explained, a trace of humor lacing her words. "It’s derived from the Hebrew word Nephilim, which can be translated as ‘giants’ or, in some religious circles, ‘the fallen ones.’ They always found that bit of etymology amusing because of my size."

The room seemed to still for a moment, the weight of the name hanging in the air. Diavolo raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Were your parents religious, then?"

Nephilia shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Not at all. They were more the type to poke fun at religion than to adhere to it. They enjoyed the irony, I suppose."

Barbatos’s expression remained thoughtful as he considered her explanation, his eyes flicking briefly to Diavolo, who gave an almost imperceptible nod. Whatever unspoken communication passed between them was lost on Nephilia, though it did not escape her notice.

Lucifer, who had been silently observing the exchange, stepped forward, his presence immediately commanding attention. "As enlightening as this discussion has been," he began, his tone authoritative yet laced with a subtle resignation, "there are practical matters to attend to. During your stay in the Devildom, you will require someone to assist you in navigating our world and ensuring your well-being."

Nephilia raised an eyebrow, sensing a catch. "And who exactly will be looking after me?"

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if considering how best to phrase his next words. "That responsibility will fall to my brother, Mammon," he said, his tone calm but with an underlying exasperation. "He is the Avatar of Greed and... how should I put it?"

He sighed, clearly grappling with the task of summarizing Mammon’s myriad complexities. "Oh well, you’ll understand soon enough."

Before Nephilia could respond, Lucifer produced a device from within his coat—a sleek, black object that looked somewhat like a high-end smartphone but with a distinctly otherworldly design. He handed it to her with the air of someone passing on an essential but bothersome tool. "This is a D.D.D.," he explained. "It functions similarly to a cell phone in your world. It is yours to use for communication and other tasks while you’re here in the Devildom."

Nephilia took the device, turning it over in her hand and examining its unfamiliar design. "So, I use this to contact your brother?" she asked, glancing up at Lucifer.

"Precisely," he replied, his tone brisk. "You’ll find his number, along with the rest of ours, already programmed into it. Simply press the call icon, and he’ll answer—eventually."

Curiosity piqued, Nephilia navigated the device’s interface with surprising ease. Within moments, she found Mammon’s contact and pressed the call button. The D.D.D. rang several times before it was picked up with a click, followed by a voice that was casual and carefree.

“Yoooo,” the voice drawled.

“Yo,” Nephilia responded evenly, her tone calm and collected despite the unusual situation.

There was a brief pause before the voice turned suspicious. “Are ya foolin’ around? Who the hell are ya?”

“I’m Neph,” she replied, keeping her introduction simple. “A human.”

The line went silent for a split second before Mammon’s voice erupted in surprise. “Whaaa? A human? Geez, I was gettin’ all chilly here thinkin’ it was Lucifer again. Ya should’ve told me right away! So, what business does a human got with THE Mammon?”

Nephilia’s lips quirked up slightly at his self-assured tone. “You will apparently be in charge of me from now on.”

Mammon’s voice shifted from confidence to confusion. “No way! There’s nothin’ in it for me. Whaddya even mean by ‘be in charge of you’?…” A sudden realization seemed to dawn on him, and he let out a loud exclamation. “AAH! I get it now, you’re the other human—the new exchange student! G’luck with that, and see ya.”

Just as she was about to respond, Mammon clearly intending to hang up, Nephilia quickly added, “Lucifer asked me to call you.”

There was a brief pause, followed by a dismissive scoff. “Pfft, whatever. Ya think THE Mammon would listen to ya just ‘cause you’re tryin’ to scare me with that name?”

Suddenly, the phone was abruptly snatched from her hand. Lucifer’s voice cut in, smooth and authoritative. “You’ve got 10 seconds...9...8…”

“YESSIR!” Mammon’s panicked voice came through loud and clear before the line clicked off abruptly.

Nephilia raised an eyebrow, glancing up at Lucifer who handed her back the D.D.D. with a calm expression. "You’ll find that Mammon can be... difficult," Lucifer said, his tone carrying the weight of years spent managing his unpredictable brother. "But he’ll do as he’s told, eventually."

Nephilia accepted the device back with a nod, tucking it away. "He’s certainly... something," she replied, her voice dry.

Lucifer almost smirked, the faintest trace of amusement in his eyes as he regarded Nephilia. "He is," he said, a hint of something almost resembling sympathy in his voice. "There are seven of us brothers in total. You’ve met four of them," he continued, gesturing to the demons present. "The other two aren’t here at the moment, but... well, we can get to them later. All in good time."

Nephilia nodded, still processing the strange new world she’d been thrust into, her thoughts racing with questions she couldn’t quite form yet. The atmosphere in the room felt heavy, not with malice, but with the weight of untold stories and secrets that lurked just beneath the surface. She could feel it in the way the Brothers held themselves, in the way their eyes flicked toward her with a mix of curiosity and something darker.

Before she could dwell on it further, Diavolo spoke up, his voice warm and reassuring. "During your stay in the Devildom, the seven brothers will lend you their strength. Each of them is unique, as you’ll come to see, and they will help guide you through this year-long exchange."

Nephilia blinked, her focus sharpening on his words. "How long will I be staying?" she asked, her voice betraying a hint of unease.

"A year," Lucifer replied, his tone flat and matter-of-fact, as though such a duration was of little consequence.

Nephilia’s eyes widened, her calm exterior cracking slightly as the implications of his words settled in. "A year?" she repeated, disbelief coloring her voice. "You do realize that I have a job? A house and bills that have to be paid for, right? What will happen to them while I am here?"

Diavolo’s expression softened with understanding, though his eyes remained resolute. "Rest assured, Neph, everything in the human world will be taken care of. Time in the Devildom moves differently than it does in your world. A year here may not feel the same back home."

Lucifer nodded in agreement, his tone measured. "You’ll find that many things in the Devildom defy the expectations of the human world. Your obligations will be seen to, and when you return, it will be as though no time has passed."

Despite their reassurances, Nephilia couldn’t shake the gnawing anxiety that gripped her. The thought of leaving everything behind for an entire year, of having her life paused while she was trapped, was overwhelming.

"I suppose I don’t have much of a choice, do I?" she asked, her voice tinged with resignation.

"Not really," Lucifer replied, his tone slightly softer than before. "But you’ll find that the Devildom has its own rewards."

Diavolo smiled warmly, stepping forward to place a hand on her shoulder. "Think of it as an opportunity," he said, his voice full of optimism. "A chance to experience a world unlike any other, to learn, to grow... and to discover things about yourself that you never knew existed."

Nephilia took a deep breath, steadying herself. The uncertainty was still there, gnawing at the edges of her resolve, but she could feel a flicker of curiosity burning beneath it. Maybe they were right. Maybe this was an opportunity—a terrifying, overwhelming, but potentially life-changing opportunity.

“To keep you safe, you are to stay with the brothers at the House of Lamentation,” Diavolo continued, his tone gentle but firm.

Nephilia raised an eyebrow, her voice laced with incredulity as she repeated, “The House of Lamentation?”

“Yes,” Lucifer interjected smoothly, his gaze steady. “It’s quite spacious and should accommodate you comfortably. The house was originally cursed in the human world, so I assume it won’t be a problem for you—a human—to live there.”

Nephilia couldn't help the dry chuckle that escaped her lips. A cursed house? she thought, amused by the irony. Of course it is. It seemed the more she learned about this situation, the more it felt like she was living in some twisted fairy tale. Yet, there was a strange comfort in Lucifer’s matter-of-fact tone, as if he was already certain she would be fine. But still, the name “House of Lamentation” didn’t exactly inspire confidence.

Before she could ponder further on the ominous name, the sound of hurried footsteps and frantic yelling echoed from the hallway outside. The clamor grew louder, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of someone tripping over their own feet in a desperate rush.

Lucifer sighed, the weariness in his expression clear. “Well, it seems the idiot has arrived,” he muttered just as the doors flew open with a loud crash.

Mammon burst into the room, panting heavily, his eyes wide with irritation as he tried to catch his breath. “HEY! Just who do ya think you are, human? You’ve got a lotta nerve summonin’ the Great Mammon—!”

His rant cut off abruptly as his gaze finally landed on Nephilia. The words seemed to die in his throat, and for a moment, he stood frozen, his eyes widening in shock as he took in her towering height and imposing presence. His bravado evaporated, replaced by something that looked like genuine surprise—maybe even awe.

Nephilia observed the sudden change in Mammon’s demeanor with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. So this is the infamous Mammon, she thought, noting the way his expression shifted from irritation to stunned silence. It was clear that he hadn’t been expecting someone like her, and she could practically see the gears turning in his head as he tried to reconcile the confident human he’d been prepared to yell at with the reality standing before him.

His reaction wasn’t unfamiliar—she’d seen it many times before in the human world. People often didn’t know how to handle her height or the natural authority she seemed to exude, and they either backed down quickly or doubled down on whatever attitude they’d started with. But Mammon… he was an interesting mix. She could tell he was cocky, probably used to getting his way with bluster and charm, but now, faced with her, he seemed to be at a loss for words.

After a long, awkward pause, Mammon finally managed to find his voice, though it came out weaker than before. “Uh… um…” He cleared his throat, struggling to regain his composure. “I-I mean, ya still shouldn’t go ‘round summonin’ me like that without a good reason, ya know?”

Nephilia’s lips twitched in amusement. He’s certainly something, she thought, biting back a smile. Despite his attempts to sound intimidating, there was a kind of charm to his flustered reaction. It was almost endearing in a way, though she could see why Lucifer had referred to him as an “idiot.”

“Well,” Nephilia replied calmly, her tone even and unbothered, “I was told to call you, and you're here now. It’s nice to meet you, Mammon.”

Mammon blinked, still trying to process the situation. “Y-Yeah, uh… nice to meet ya too,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. He glanced over at Lucifer, who was watching the interaction with thinly veiled amusement.

“Get used to it,” Lucifer said dryly. “She’ll be living with us for the foreseeable future, and you’ll be responsible for showing her around.”

Mammon’s eyes widened again. “Wha—Me?!” He looked between Nephilia and Lucifer, his disbelief evident. “I gotta babysit a human for a whole year?!”

Lucifer’s expression remained impassive. “That’s correct. And I expect you to do it properly.”

Mammon groaned, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Aw, c’mon! There’s gotta be somethin’ in it for me, right?”

“Consider it an opportunity,” Lucifer said with a pointed look. “You might actually learn something.”

Nephilia watched the exchange, silently taking note of Mammon’s reaction. Despite his obvious reluctance, she could see that there was more to him than his blustering attitude. He was clearly a bit overwhelmed by her, but he wasn’t backing down. That, at least, was something she could respect.

“Aww, lucky you, Mammon! I’m so jealous…” Asmo cooed, his voice dripping with feigned envy.

Mammon rounded on him, frustration evident in his furrowed brow. “All right, then why don’t you do it, Asmodeus?!”

“What? Hell no, too lazy.” Asmo replied with a dismissive wave, his usual carefree demeanor firmly in place.

Mammon’s eyes narrowed, his irritation bubbling over. “I thought ya said ya were jealous of me?!”

Satan chuckled from his seat, arms crossed casually as he observed the exchange with mild amusement. “Just give up, Mammon. There’s no getting out of this. You know you can’t refuse a direct command from Lucifer, right?”

Mammon clenched his fists in frustration. “But why does it have to be me?! What about Beel? Why can’t he do it?!”

Asmo shook his head, an indulgent smile on his lips. “This isn’t a job we can entrust to Beel. We might as well ask him to eat her.”

Beel, who had been quietly watching the back-and-forth, hummed thoughtfully. “Mm, yeah. I can’t promise I wouldn’t.”

Mammon clicked his teeth in annoyance. “You’re useless, ya know that?!”

Lucifer sighed heavily, the sound filled with exasperation. “...Mammon?”

Mammon froze, his bravado deflating in an instant. “...Wh-what?”

Lucifer’s gaze sharpened, his presence growing heavier as he spoke. “Surely you’re not going to tell me you object to this arrangement, are you?” His tone was calm, but the underlying threat was unmistakable.

Mammon flinched, his bravado quickly crumbling under the weight of Lucifer’s stare. “Ugh… I hate you guys! Every last one of ya!” He huffed, crossing his arms in a sulky gesture. “Fine… FINE! I’ll do it, okay?!”

Turning his attention to Nephilia, Mammon’s expression was a mixture of irritation and reluctant resignation. “All right, human, listen up. As much as I don’t wanna look after ya, I’ve got no choice. It’s a huge pain in the ass, and I’m too important for this kinda thing, but Lucifer told me to do it, so I will. But in return, you better make sure ya don’t cause me any trouble, got it?!”

Nephilia tried to stop herself, but the sight of Mammon’s dramatic posturing and the absurdity of the entire situation proved too much. A laugh bubbled up, escaping her control before she could stifle it. The sound echoed through the room, warm and genuine, catching everyone off guard.

The brothers all stared at her in varying degrees of shock, their previous banter forgotten. Even Lucifer raised an eyebrow in surprise, though his expression remained stoic. Mammon, however, was frozen, his indignation momentarily eclipsed by disbelief.

“I’m sorry,” Nephilia said, her voice light with amusement as she tried to contain her laughter. “I don’t mean to laugh, it’s just… I don’t get talked to like this very often.”

Mammon blinked, utterly dumbfounded. “Huh? What’s so funny?”

Nephilia’s smile softened as she met his bewildered gaze. “It’s just… you’re so serious about it, but the whole thing is so… ridiculous. I mean, here I am, standing in a room full of demons, and the biggest concern is who’s going to ‘babysit’ me. It’s just… unexpected.”

Mammon’s expression twisted, a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance. “Tch, don’t go makin’ fun of me, human! Ya don’t know what it’s like dealin’ with these guys! I’m just tryin’ to survive here!”

Lucifer allowed a small, almost imperceptible smile to grace his lips as he watched the exchange. “It seems Nephilia is already adapting to our unique dynamic,” he remarked, his voice calm. “Perhaps you’ll find her easier to manage than you think, Mammon.”

Mammon grumbled under his breath, but there was no real heat in his voice anymore. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just don’t make me regret this, okay?”

Nephilia’s laughter faded into a warm smile as she nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

As the tension in the room eased, Diavolo clapped his hands together, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. “Wonderful! I think this will be a fascinating year for all of us. Welcome to the Devildom, Nephilia. I’m certain you’ll make quite an impression here.”

With the atmosphere lightened and introductions complete, Nephilia felt the last vestiges of her earlier anxiety begin to ebb away. This was going to be an unusual experience, to say the least, but if the brothers were any indication, it wouldn’t be boring.

[rileys-battlecats]

How difficult was it to create a whole another clan, and do you have any tips for those wanting to start? I've always been wanting to make one but honestly my worldbuilding skills are not that great and procrastination levels are high😿

Honestly I never really set out to make an entire clan! It started with just a little handful of OCs, and then it just sort of.... expanded on its own HAHA

My advice would be to start small! I started by focusing on a little handful of characters, really only fleshing out two of them (mudpaw and wrentail), and then branching out from there based on their relationships. Mudpaw needed peers, so the other apprentices were designed and eventually their personalities were developed. Then those apprentices needed mentors, and needed dynamics with those mentors, and then the mentors needed dynamics with each other, and at that point I had so many cats it was just logical to design a leader, deputy, and med cat! And then I just designed a few background characters to fill in some spaces (sometimes reusing old designs I'd made but hadn't used for anything), and then I had an entire clan!

It definitely helps that I LOVE designing cat characters, it's actually so fun for me HAHA. Any excuse to make up a new kitty cat is good enough for me :P

The worldbuilding for the clan was built mostly from what I needed it to be for the characters/story! I've been putting it together piecemeal for quite a long time. Don't feel pressured to figure everything out all at once! I left a lot of blank spaces in the clan's history/culture in the beginning; I only really started filling it out over time and with a lot of help brainstorming from the people leaving their questions and thoughts on this blog! Even now, I still sometimes have new ideas that I want to integrate into the clan's lore

My biggest tip is to just have fun with it! Use concepts that are cool to you, make stories that YOU love, and don't worry about making it appealing to other people. They're your OCs, they're there for you to have fun with! Don't worry about making everything cohesive and finished all at once, you can make things and develop them in little bite-sized bits, then just put them together whenever you want!

A more concrete tip is to think about what little pieces of clan culture affect the characters and their thoughts/feelings/relationships! For instance, I have one of Micaclan's most important traits being that they are deeply insular as a group; this means that outsiders are treated with suspicion, but it also means that they care about their clanmates immensely. Those considered to be part of the "in-group" are met with support, love, and loyalty. So, anything or anyone that breaks from this loyalty is treated very harshly (ex. Possum leaving the clan was seen as a very serious betrayal). This insular trait affects how the clan treats Mudpaw (a perceived outsider), it affects how the clan treats their kits (they all share responsibility for each kitten equally/"it takes a village" approach), and it affects how the clan sees its individual members' shortcomings (ex. Wrentail being seen as a harsh mentor, sure, but ultimately believing him to be a good cat; they can't really conceive one of their own as being in the wrong without some serious proof).

Another tip is to include fun little details that might not seem important to a story, but still add a little bit of flavor to the world! Micaclan values storytelling, and Wrentail was one of their best storytellers. The elder Snaptail keeps clan history alive by imparting old stories to each new generation. The clan teaches their kits to swim at a young age, due to their history of losing cats to a flood and now living close to water. The clan doesn't have frequent access to Starclan, because their holy place is dangerous to approach. The clan's healers meet with Starclan each half moon only symbolically, by traveling to their mountain's peak to stargaze. Little details like that can do a lot to make the clan feel more alive!

I know this is sort of an eclectic mess as far as tips/advice goes, but I hope it helps!!

[achaotichuman]

TELL ME ABOUT CEPTHIZ!!!

Also do u wanna hear me stupid joke??????? It’s a pun on the name

YES YES YES YES YES I GET TO RAMBLE ABOUT THIS

So, when I started the fic, I wanted to include my own OC monsters, because I love it when life is born from death, and creatures that blur the lines between this life and the next. And since my whole fanfiction (A Witch A Warrior And A Reckoning) revolves around this kind of dance on that line, I thought why not create a creature that plays around with that idea.

So, the Cephtiz are actually quite sad in how they exist, they are the bodies of people who were unfortunately caught in the battle of Hybern, and Koschei in the Spring Court. When Koschei died (he was killed in the Spring Court, but that's a whole story) the life in Spring began to turn rotten. It festered, and these Fae bodies still had the remnants of Spring Magic in them, and since Faery bodies are built to house life (souls etc.) they became the vessels for these creatures called the Cephtiz.

Now, the Cephtiz cannot be killed by physical force, and even as Spring began to heal, they still roamed the land, killing off breathing creatures and feeding on their Life force and magic to rejuvenate themselves. Its like a sick twist of the whole magic of the Spring Court itself, which is all about rejuvenation.

And the more magic they stored, the more their bodies began to heal. Some Cephtiz becoming so recognizable, they could walk into villages and be invited back into houses, fooling grieving families into believing they are their lost relatives. Then they will feed on the families lives.

As the Cephtiz cannot be killed, they have to be warded off. Things that can prevent the Cephtiz from targeting a town, village or household are things like basic warding spells, cleansing spells. They are fairly easy to ward off, since as people became more aware of them, they stopped falling for their tricks, and the Cephtiz began to starve, weakening their magic. But for the stronger Cephtiz, stronger rituals are needed to prevent them entering homes. So, rituals that involve communicating with the dead can prevent the Cephtiz from entering, since the Cephtiz are uncomfortable and sometimes (if the person who once housed their body was strong enough) fear the soul they stole their body from.

The Cephtiz can only be entirely killed if they are starved completely, and the only people who can go near them and come away relatively unharmed are Tamlin and Dahlia (his daughter) since their magical influence over the earth takes precedence over the Cephtiz. As the Cephtiz can manipulate the earth, causing foliage to rapidly rot and die off, can cause the magic in the air to feel drained, rotten or sour, and can manipulate the area around them to change paths or change the growth pattern of plants very quickly.

Tamlin and Dahlia are really the only ones strong enough to trap the Cephtiz, and then starve them over a period of weeks before finally having the empty rotten corpses burned, the ashes are then buried as a final send off to the person the Cephtiz had possessed.

Some other lore about the Cephtiz. They can replicate voices from their preys past and use it to lure them further into their grasp. They can behave in manners that is very akin to Suriels, speaking in riddles, rhymes or singing words that sound prophetic, leading some to believe the Cephtiz are harbingers of impending doom, or imminent death.

The Cephtiz are also likely to hunt in packs, and behave very similarly to each other. Often formulating plans, enacting strategies and changing their behaviors quickly without so much as giving any kind of signal to the others, leading to speculation that they may be a hivemind. Or in a similar way to fungi being able to communicate without noise or movement, they have some kind of system of communication through foliage.

Also fun fact, the name by itself 'The Cephtiz' is entirely made up, but I based it off of the Persian name Sephtis which means Eternal Death (feel free to pull me up on that if I am wrong, I checked across multiple sources to make sure I was correct, but sometimes even in depth research doesn't pay out entirely) but in any case, I also like the name Cephtiz because it just sounds like sepsis and this creature is extremely infection-like and it sounds icky and death-like and all the lovely disgusting things I want my readers to feel when they read about them.

Anyway, anyway, thank you for letting me ramble, and please tell me what the pun is!!!