#barefoot on the fire escape (chasing after you) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

littlebird42 · 4 months ago

Text

~~Counting Scales~~ A short Story

~~Note from the Writer~~

To be honest, this little story way longer than I thought it would to write. The finished product ended up being just under 9k words and over twenty pages lol.

I figured I might as well post this around somewhere just to see if anybody was inclined to like it. this is by no means a polished piece of writing by the way, I may have proof read it for grammar and writing mistakes but it has not had any peer editing done.

Either way, I hope you guys enjoy :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If it had been in any other scenario, Mathew would have said that the sounds of the ocean were calming. The soft lapping noises of waves brought back many memories of walking on the beach with his mother and his younger sister.

The thought brought tears to his eyes. What Mathew wouldn’t give to simply be on a long walk with his mother on the beach. To chase his younger sister along the beach barefooted, and to beach comb for the biggest seashell.

In his memories, the coldness of the ocean had barely reached him. It was just the barest of a shiver if he waded too far.

That was nothing like he was experiencing now.

There was no sun beating on his back, nor laughter to be heard, and no warmth to be found in the fathomless waters of the ocean.

��The Mariot’ as his father had named her, was on her last row.

The great ship that Matthew had spent the better part of four weeks on was slowly sinking in front of him. Great plumes of fire were licking at her exposed wood tearing her apart piece by piece, it seemed as if her soul itself was being carried away in the black smoke that careened towards the dark sky.

It had happened quickly, under the cover of night. Much of the crew, including himself, had been asleep as the raiders boarded their vessel. The crew was quickly overtaken, the lonely few who were awake were taken quietly, throats slit wide before they could scream.

Blood had soaked the sleek deck of ‘The Mariot’ seeping into the carefully maintained wood as her crew was taken from her.

To stunt their possible escape, the Mariot’s sails had been torn, left to sag uselessly in the late sea breeze.

It was truly a shame to see such a great vessel be plunged to the depths of the ocean. It was an unnecessary loss.

That ship had been a part of his fathers merchant fleet for just over two decades, and dutifully taken care of by the crew who called her home.

Mathew himself had been there when his father had purchased the ship and named her ‘The Mariot’. Mathew had only been four then, carried lovingly by his father as they did an inspection of the vessel before purchase. He even remembered when his father had scrawled his swoopy signature along the certificate of purchase.

After purchase, his family crest had been proudly hung along the highest point. It had stayed up there for her entire life; A great blue flag that shone the influence and proud nature of his family, and now it was tattered.

It was simply a rag that the raiders had torn down, throwing the fabric into the black ocean to be forgotten and lost beneath the waves.

During the intense overtaking of the ship, it had been the heavy footfalls and clamour of swords that had alerted Mathew to what was going on. He had barely made it to the top deck to see what was happening when he was stopped by a pirate himself.

It had been quick, an assault that he could barely defend himself from before being run through with a garish blade. The knife had been sharp, but it was rusted with an uneven edge from its unkempt time on the salted ocean.

With a solid push, the bandit had slammed the dagger to its hilt, the force of the blow letting the railguard smash into Mathews lower ribs before stopping.

The blow had knocked the wind from his chest, the adrenaline of the situation causing a numbness to leech into his limbs. It was a fatal and untimely development which had hindered his ability to react in the face of a gnarly seafarer who unfortunately wanted him dead.

The bandit took swift advantage of Mathews' shock and rammed the broad of his shoulder into the middle of Matthew's chest.

The rusted blade withdrew from his abdomen with a wet squelch as the force knocked him backwards and over the crumbling rail behind him.

Mathew regained his senses a second too late as he reached for the guardrail; His hand bouncing painfully off of the hull of the Mariot before he crashed into the turbulent water below.

The cold water was breathtaking, throbbing deeply in his chest as he grasped at the air above his head.

Trying to stay afloat, Mathews struggled to tread water in his shock. His head bobbed above the water as he heaved a breath in and watched in horror as more of his crew was dragged from their quarters and slain before being thrown overboard one at a time.

The ship was raided quickly, none of the bandits wanting to stay for long among the wreckage as they set fire to the sails and poured oil along the top deck.

It was clear they weren’t looking for any trails to be left behind, they didn’t want any survivors to tell of who had dared attack a Wathelet merchant ship.

Mathew had barely managed to duck out of the way as another body crashed into the water next to him. The crash of water pushed at his face, the salty water spilling into his mouth as he tried to gasp for air. Only taking a moment to catch his bearings, a choked gasp came from him as he saw who was so haphazardly thrown overboard.

Staring back at him were the glassy brown eyes of his navigator, Renard, a man who had truly been excited for him to finally take on the role his father had been pushing at him. He remembered many times that Renard had come to see his father, gaining insight as they plotted upcoming trade routes and possible weather patterns.

For hours, he had listened to his father and Renard plan business; and now, the elderly man twitched in the water beside him.

Thick blood poured from the skewed gash across his throat as Renard gurgled, his lungs filling with blood and water as time went on.

Warm tears pooled in Mathews eyes before spilling down his face. A strangled sob wracked through his chest, making his wound burn in anguish at the motion.

Mathew had only a few seconds more to grieve before a great crash split through the air. The sound of a cannon going off made Mathew flinch, dipping further into the water to avoid the projectiles flying over his head.

A sharp clap of wood snapping sounded out over the water as the Mariot began to succumb to her abuse.

One of the more rowdy cannonballs had clipped the center mast, that coupled with the licking fire which ravaged her decks was too much for her to bear. Her once beautiful center mast croaked under the pressure as it pitched towards the water, and with one more crack it slammed into the water beside Mathew.

Mathew had been lucky to have been missed by the wooden beam, but his luck was almost run out as he watched his beloved ship pitch to the opposite side. Orange flames trailed closer to the water as she was slowly eaten away.

Mathew felt a well of panic bubble in his chest as he watched the water rise along the Mariot’s hull. A ship this size could definitely pull him beneath the water if he was too close.

Treading water to spite the pain in his abdomen, Mathew pulled himself away from the wreckage. There was nothing else he could do, no one he could even save in his current condition.

The wound in his abdomen ached with every breath he took, the expanding of his diaphragm pulled at the unnatural wound in his gut. The searing pain brought hot tears to his eyes as he treaded water.

A devastated sob shuddered through his chest as Mathew grasped the fire warmed remains of the Mariot’s mast. He was still entirely too close to the wreckage to be comfortable, but a sour thought overtook his mind, telling him it was useless to try and get further away.

He would be long dead by the time the Mariot finally sank below the waves anyways.

Stirring among the darkest parts of the blackest ocean, The blood of man called to her.

A beast as she was, born in the deepest trenches of the saltiest sea she had emerged with a hunger for flesh and blood.

It had just been a fair coincidence that the dueling ships had happened so close to her lair. A happy fortune that allowed to fill her stomach before she truly had to go hunting for a poor lone vessel.

The thick blood of humans had stained the water, drawing her forward with its intoxicating scent.

Much like a shark, Wyn was drawn by the smell, able to track the blood of a bleeding whale over leagues of ocean. The sheer magnitude of blood muddling the water was a great lure, even through miles of water she could tell that there were more than a few casualties.

A crooked smile spread across her face as Wyn pushed off of the ocean floor. Beneath her, Wyn’s great tail stretched out, nimbly swatting at the thick layer of sand and murk that served as a comfortable bed for her listless stay in this part of the ocean.

Stretching wide, Wyn’s yellow eyes narrowed as she gave into the more animalistic side and swam off in the direction of her next meal.

The speed Wyn glided through the water was enough to carry her forward at a much faster pace than any man made ship could hope to out pace.

The fins of her tail were large, big enough to capsize a ship with the correct technique, after all, she had to get food somewhere. There were only so many whales, crabs and squid a girl could eat before she started craving something sweeter.

The thick braids in Wyns hair were swept back as she turned into a particularly strong current. Her dark hair had been braided tightly adorned with shiny stones, ropes and any other pilfered trophies she had gathered from shipwrecks.

As she grew closer to the surface, the water began to get clearer, growing lighter even without the sun overhead. It was a testament to how deep of water she was used to being in that Wyn felt just a tad more exposed even if she kept a good ship length from the surface.

Grumbling under her breath, Wyn pushed herself harder to reach her goal. Her tail, now showing its true navy hue, beat against the underside of the waves with fervor, pushing her along at a faster pace.

Wyn’s braided top made of sewn sails billowed in the current she cut into the water.

Miles of sea passed along in an instant before she came upon the wreckage. The smell was thick in the water even above the smell of oils and burning wood.

Settling far beneath the ruined ship, it was easier to survey the surroundings without the fear of being spotted, just in case there was backup coming or the other ship was still in the area.

It had been a large ship, indicated by the amount of bodies floating in the water around the glowing wreck. The mass of the ship, if it hadn’t been on fire, would have been closer to the size of her torso.

More than likely a cargo ship she surmised.

Wyn counted almost twenty five bodies before she was very rudely interrupted by a shark skimming into her view as it investigated the possibility of a late night snack.

Opening her mouth, Wyn bared her sharp teeth and hissed at the offending shark before she swatted a hand through the water. Her long claws were poised in a half hearted attack as she lazily let the shark skim away from her outstretched fingers.

Confident that there were no imminent dangers, Wyn let herself creep closer to the ship before reaching out and caught a floating body by an outstretched leg between her fingers.

Dragging the body below the surface, Wyn made quick work of stripping off any weapons and metal before stowing away the accumulation of small limbs into her mouth.

The first few crunches were sweet, the remnants of thick blood spilling into her mouth as she swallowed and continued to the next corpse.

This process continued for a while as Wyn began to curb her appetite. She barely paid any attention to her surroundings other than to swat away a few more pesky sharks who were scavenging on what was left behind; that was until her nose got the better of her.

Floating in the water, close to the ship was a delectable smell. It made her mouth salivate in anticipation as she made her way close to the glowing wreckage.

Wyn was searching for a barrel or box, something that contained what she could only assume was fruit or sugars by the way the smell skimmed in the water.

Though, Wyn was pleasantly surprised when her nose led her astray; to the wafting blood of another body, one who was still clinging to the broken mast of the fallen ship.

Taking a bold risk, Wyn climbed closer to the surface, her nose pushing her closer. Only with a breath of hesitation, Wyn gave in to what her instincts were telling her and broke her head above the cresting waves.

Mathew had grown weaker in the past two hours steadily growing more weary as the Mariot filled with water and lowered into the black ocean.

Mathews' brown eyes had dried, no longer shedding tears for his fallen vessel or crew. Replacing his despair was a hollow in his chest, followed by the throbbing in his side in time with his heart.

For the most part, the blood leaking from his abdomen had tapered off as Mathews' body desperately tried to clot the gaping wound. His human body struggled to maintain itself. It pulled at every resource it had, but after everything had been expended, Mathew still found himself slipping past the point of no return.

The constant turmoil of the ocean around him did little to soothe the pain in his side, or the loss he felt for his crew.

In the past two hours of being adrift, he had cried, cursed, and begged for what he had lost, knowing what he was sure to lose very soon. Mathew, at the very end had come to terms with his end, slowly dying out, much like the fire which continued to blaze in front of him.

The proximity to the fire made his eyes water as smoke trailed into the sky but it was still a comfort. The warmth of the fire drew his gaze to the dancing flames, they seemed to taunt him with their vigor, licking at the glowing wood of the Mariot's hull.

The flames were enchanting, they drew Matthew's attention from everything else even when his eyes continued to water from the smoke. Being alone with his thoughts, despair and the cracks and pops of the fire he almost missed the way the currents began to change around him.

Beyond his precarious perch, on the edge of his vision, Mathew caught a flash of something disturbing the surface of the water.

Brushing it off, Mathew didn't care much for the disturbance, there was so much blood in the water that it was only a matter of time before sharks showed up. Hounds of the sea as they were, they would follow their noses to the very end if it meant sinking their teeth into flesh.

Trying and failing, Mathew tried to pull himself further along the mast. His legs felt heavy and deathly cold as they drug behind him. He had no strength to kick his legs as he braced his arms to keep the majority of his torso out of the lapping water. It was one thing to die of the cold, or by sword, but another entirely to be chewed to pieces by a million teeth.

It wasn't long before another stir of movement caught his eye not another twenty feet from his perch. He watched expectantly for a maw of teeth to rise from the water and shear apart his crew; but he was clearly mistaken when two giant and deathly white fingers swiped up from the depths to drag his deckhand below the surface by an arm.

A dagger of fear trailed up his spine as he shuddered in the cold water. It was just his luck that his dying crew and burning ship had attracted the attention of a merfolk.

More tears welled up in Mathews eyes as he choked back another welling sob. His chest quaked with cries he wouldn’t let escape him.

Tucking his head close to the wooden pillar supporting him, Mathew turned his face away from the fire and looked beyond to the open ocean. He couldn’t bear to watch this creature take the bodies of his friends, especially knowing that the beast was more than likely chewing apart their limbs beneath him as he laid dying upon the mast.

Holding his breath, Mathew felt the cold water stir around him, water pushing and pulling under the guidance of a being so large.

He flinched hard when he heard it break the surface nearby. The tumbling and trickling of water created a cacophony of noise that filled the air with suspense as he refused to look at his demise.

It wasn't until he felt something brush up against his calf that he sucked in a gasp, the startled noise filling the air as his eyes snapped open.

In a million years he couldn’t have imagined what the giant sea beasts would look like; after all, he had only ever heard stories.

The way his father spoke of these creatures, he called them treacherous monsters that would kill for sport and eat the flesh off the bones of living men. They were the giants that sprouted from the darkest trenches in the ocean; created by the gods to keep those born on land in check. Every story and every dramatically drawn image in the history books made Mathew think of some twisted representation of humanity, a monster that would smile at him before it ate him.

That was the monster that he expected when he opened his eyes, a mouth of gnashing teeth attached to a beast that was just as smart as it was wicked.

But that is not what he saw.

Mathew was astonished, his mouth parted in surprise, and his eyes wide as he met the gaze of the mermaid.

Her face had broken just half way above the water, her mouth and nose still hidden beneath the waves lapping delicately at her cheeks. Her hair was skillfully braided back in tremendous dark waves of rope and beads that made her hair seem wild and foreign. Mathew even saw the curved end of a polished anchor glinting above her left temple as it hung from a thinner braid tucked behind her ear.

Her skin was pale, almost translucent in nature. It was a testament that she was truly a creature of the deepest parts of the ocean.

Though, most captivating of all were her golden eyes. Hovering just above the waves, her gaze reflected the flickering of the dying flames in an array of golds and oranges that reminded Mathew of a shiny gold coin.

She was utterly captivating, and nothing at all like the bloodthirsty creatures he had heard in the tall tales the other crew members had told him.

Another shudder quaked along his skin as he watched her face contort in confusion. Her eyebrows pinched together and her eyes narrowed as she honed in on his face.

Snapping his mouth shut with a clack of his own teeth, Mathew felt himself begin to tremble. Her gaze was heavy as she analyzed him and despite her beauty and otherworldly aura, she was still very much a deadly unknown.

Mathew let out a startled cry when he felt a pressure build around his calf, looking down he was horrified to see that she had reached out to grab him. With two giant fingers she had snagged his calf in her thumb and forefinger which came to rest heavily along the side of his leg.

The skin of her hands were warm, a stark contrast to the icy water as the giant quickly yanked him away from the wreckage and into open water. The force of her tug agitated the injury in his chest making him wince as he broke eye contact.

Mathew panicked as salt water rose deathly close to washing over his head before she pulled him from the ocean. Two giant palms came up beneath his back catching him swiftly before his head could sink below the cresting waves.

The speed of her movements left him reeling in their wake, and after the hectic night he had had, Mathew barely had enough energy left to try and tread water; much less try and fight against the giant woman who apparently wanted to hold him.

Her long fingers gathered around him, crowding into his vision as he found himself sprawled in her grasp and unable to move due to mounting exhaustion.

One of her long nails caught Mathews' attention as she moved, the blunt end of her fingertip being laced with what he knew was a nail sharper than even the blade that had tried to kill him.

Feeling the twitching in her fingers and both of the palms beneath him his eyes snapped to attention, his gaze quickly travelling from her sharp nails back up to her golden gaze.

Leaning down, it was easy enough to smell the blood on his small form. Pulling her hands further from the water, she began to see the small man clearer.

The ocean scattered away from his body, bestowing Matthew into Wyn’s care as if it had always meant to be so.

He shook in her palms, tiny legs and arms shivering from the cold as he met her gaze weakly in the fading firelight. The action of meeting her gaze sapped at the fading strength he had. He was trapped in her gaze, the wicked hue of her eyes wracking another tremble along his limbs.

Even as the rest of her face rose from the waves the small man neither tried to scream nor fight as her hands wavered in mid air.

Her bright eyes were much akin to the brilliance of a predator, the color reflecting the hunger which drove her to eat the floating bodies of his fallen comrades.

A blossom of red swelled in the well of Wyn’s palm, the dregs of human mortality spilling from the young man as he slipped closer to unconsciousness.

The blooming red was almost too much for Wyn to bear. The smell of the human made her want to eat him, to simply stuff away his small limbs into her mouth and take him from the world above, but another smell stopped her.

Despite her sense of smell being skewed above the water, at this range it was unmistakably obvious to smell the sweetness of land upon his skin.

This man was not of the sea.

He was not made for the endless oceans, and so did that mean that he was not hers to take.

His skin smelled of the nectar of fruit, the lusciousness of the unsalted air and the crispness of grass. It was a testament to his place in the world.

It would have been a mercy of her to simply end him, to give him the last push in the direction of death, but it was not her place.

She was to eat the people of the sea, those who smelt of the ocean and its sea breeze. To eat the flesh of man who basked in the rays of sunlight which dared not to touch the land.

But, it truly was not above her to simply let a snack slip away without a taste of what she would be giving up.

Cocking her head to the side, Wyn advanced upon the small man, bringing her face closer to his sweet red which continuously poured from that gaping wound in his chest.

Mathew twitched in her grasp, drawing in a shuddering breath as she grew near, her mouth becoming dangerously close as she made her decision. Mathew sincerely hoped that it would be over quickly. A passing thought remarked that it may be better to die in the belly of a beast than to drown or die when his body finally failed him.

Mathew tensed as her lips parted in front of him, her hot breath pouring from her full lips over his body. The warmth made him whimper in surrender, there was nothing he could do at this point but lay in her clutches and wait.

The warmth of her skin would have been soothing to his cold clammy skin if not for the imminent threat of being eaten waiting just beyond the plump flesh of her lips.

Turning his head away from his demise, Mathew’s head spun as he squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to console himself.

Wyn closed her eyes to savor the moment, her chin settling in the careful divot her hands created around her mysterious temptation.

Pushing forward with a thinly veiled impatience Wyn dipped her tongue down, caressing the flesh of her own palm as she made her contact.

The tip of Wyn’s tongue gathered the barest of tastes of his red before lapping at the blood pooling in her grasp.

Pushing the bounds of her oath, Wyn treaded onward, trailing forward to brush her lips against the man's chest. It was the barest of tastes, her lips parting to flick her tongue out to find the delicious source.

Her instincts called for more. She desperately wanted to take him as she continued, almost becoming lost in her ministrations as her tongue found its way beneath his tattered shirt to press against his bare stomach.

Even as she was being gentle, it occurred that her poor morsel was more than certainly fearing for his life.

The thought made her sigh a warm breath over him, her lips curling into a soft smile as she felt him press against her upper lip with a deathly cold hand.

Beneath the force of her tongues caress, she felt the man breath out a shaking sound much akin to a sigh. His own puffs of breath dancing along the sensitive skin of her lips as his chest rose and fell against her smile.

Mathew had never felt so small in his life, he had kissed his fair share of women in his time as the son of an influential merchant, but none of it compared to this.

The giant merfolk was easily the most breathtaking creature he had laid eyes upon, even in his final moments he could see the beauty in her.

The ache in his ribs subsided against her warm breath which she laid upon him as if it was a comforting blanket.

The heaviness of Mathew’s limbs felt far away as her mouth drew close, his left arm which had been delicately cradling his wound was pressed against his chest under the soft pressure of her lips.

Mathews left arm sunk into the soft skin of her lower lip as she pressed forward. Shuddering in a soft breath against her skin he was alarmed to feel warmth spread along his chest as her lips parted.

Mathew prepared himself, signing away his last memories he leaned into her, his right hand finding the warmth of her skin as he winced. She had found his wound, her saliva creating a trail of smoldering embers along his torso as she worked under the fabric of his shirt.

Another warm breath flushed across Mathews' skin, as he began to relax, sighing into her dewy lips.

He was losing himself.

The tremble in his limbs began to quell as the numbness spread through every arching artery and vein. His arm that was braced against Wyn’s upper lip fell away, numbly landing at his side in her palm.

Falling into delirium, it was a twisted fact to say that he was thankful; He was finally warm enough to sleep even if he believed he would die in the belly of a giant mermaid.

Giving in, the warm grasp of sleep wrapped its fingers into his mind as he was pulled further from his senses.

He was succulent, the blood pouring from his side was just as delectable as Wyn could have imagined. He tasted of exotic fruits and decadent sugars, meats of the land and other creatures she couldn’t place.

Withdrawing her ministrations from his frail form was difficult, with just a taste it was hard not to follow through; but she followed her family code with strict control of herself.

If a creature smells of the land then it is the responsibility of the land beasts to take them.

It was not her place.

Pulling away, she lolled her tongue in her mouth lazily, gazing back at the man through half lidded eyes.

Her lips were blushed pink with the red of his blood which she quickly licked away and focused back in on his smaller features.

The paleness of his skin glowed under the fading firelight as she watched his chest slowly rise and fall.

Wyn had seen this hundreds of times before. She knew he was fading quickly as his eyes stared off into the sky beyond her.

Mathews brown eyes glazed over as he stared past her and into the endless sea of stars. The fluff of brown hair that had once been stuck to his head was drying in the ocean breeze, flitting around his face in loose waves.

Mathew didn’t react when Wyn leaned forward, her face once more crowding into his vision. He was too far gone as he blinked slowly, closing his eyes for what would have been the final time if it had not been for Wyn.

Breathing slowly, Wyn gathered a breath in her expansive chest and called upon the well of energy within herself. Tugging at the thin pulse of power that was always slithering beneath her skin, Wyn ripped at it, pulling the ribbon until energy spilled forth in billows of glowing light.

A cerulean glow danced beneath her flesh, racing across her skin much like the occasional shooting star along the night sky.

At her call, the inside of Wyn’s mouth filled as she inhaled deeply. The well of magic took the form of a swirling wisp crossing between the elegance of smoke and the turmoil of waves.

A puff of it escaped between her lips, glowing intensely in a beautiful and unnatural cloud. The rippling energy floated in the air above him before crashing against Mathews middle along with Wyn’s pursed lips.

Releasing the breath she had been keeping, Wyn pressed her moist lips against his small frame, effectively forcing her glowing energy into the small man.

The effect was almost immediate.

A budding grin grew upon her face as she felt his cold flesh stir against her. A miniscule gasping breath brushed along her cheek as his chest quaked beneath her lips.

Rolling the half awake man into one hand, Wyn’s left hand plunged below the crashing waves to pick at her billowing tail. Using one of her long nails, she ripped out a single navy scale from her side.

Pulling away from Mathew, Wyn watched as he began to heave for breath.

It was heartening to see that her powers could still be used in such a fashion. It had been many years since her own mother had shown her how to transfuse magic to help wounded creatures. Though, she supposed that her mother had never counted on her to use it on a human.

Cerulean tethers of magic linked them, trailing from her mouth as she drew back from the man who was so newly imbued with her blessing; but her work wasn’t done.

Magic itself could only cure a problem for so long before it began to spill out of such a spurting wound. Wyn was quick to act as she already saw the trailing ribbons of energy try to escape his flesh.

Invigorated from his new found energy and his time so close to death, Mathew began to squirm as he began to wake up.

He didn’t understand what had happened, he could have sworn he was dead. He had been gliding along the knife’s edge, swiftly teetering into the direction of death when he felt it.

A sharp spear of warmth dug into his chest. It felt as if he had been crushed beneath the weight of an ocean swell twenty feet high.

The force of it slammed into him without remorse, a painful and yet, relieving sensation that tore him from death's hands. It brought him back from the darkness as if it had all been a wicked nightmare.

Coming to, had not been pleasant.

Mathew’s head swung with vertigo and confusion as he was swiftly deposited into one hand and restrained.

He tried in vain to push at Wyn’s thumb which came down hard against his side, consequently brushing against the newly throbbing wound.

Hissing in pain, Mathew tried to push her thumb off of his chest, a feat that even if he hadn’t been injured would have been impossible. The mermaid's fingers beneath him were long and rivaled him in size, each of them strong enough to snap him in half if she wished.

Methews mind raced as he tried to right himself in her grip, a thick slice of panic trailed up his spine reinvigorating his trembling limbs.

Mathews' gaze shot up to her distant face, trying to gauge, or even find an inkling about what was going on, but she didn’t meet his eyes.

“W-Wait! What are you doing?” He belted out, his voice high with nerves.

He didn’t receive an answer.

It wasn't that Wyn didn’t hear him, she just didn’t understand; Nor did she care to try and mime her thinking to a man who wouldn’t grasp what she was doing.

Instead, against his thrashing arms she readjusted once more.

Wyn gathered both of Mathews' hands above his head as he continued to protest, holding his two wrists under the pressure of her thumb.

With his abdomen unguarded, Wyn had more room to work as she shifted his shirt up with the pinky of her other hand to expose his belly.

As the gentle flesh of his abdomen was born to her, Wyn felt the man grow very stiff in her grasp.

His shouts and mildly confusing strings of foreign sentences had trailed off, leaving just the melody of the ocean. Scrunching her eyebrows in confusion, Wyn finally looked at his face.

Mathews' mouth was open slightly, as if he was struggling to speak, but he wasn’t in any true distress.

His chest heaved with breath in her palm, his heartbeat fluttering wildly against her own skin.

Mathews' brown eyes caught Wyn’s golden ones in a heartbeat. He looked wild, shaken and afraid. He was unsure, and Wyn had not given him any notion that she was indeed not going to eat him after whatever had already happened.

But, he knew that she had brought him back, and that alone was enough to give him pause.

The glowing magic gushing from his side suggested that she had, as it was too obvious that the same magic made her lips glow in a stark shade of blue.

Seeing her eyes again was like being set under a great magnifying lens, but it wasn’t so unsettling this time around.

Wyn’s face softened under the careful scrutiny of the man. Her gaze warming as she drew closer. She kept careful eye contact with him till her face hovered a few inches above her palm.

She waited for him to continue, to shake or scream, or do anything she could assume from the smaller species that inhabited the land, but instead his mouth closed.

He was still afraid, but there was no reason for her to save him, and no way he could stop her.

She could have easily eaten him when he had lost consciousness before, or simply dragged him below the water, but she hadn’t. These facts alone left him with very few possible outcomes, some bad, and some so tantalizingly hopeful.

So, with a resolute expression, Mathew held her honey gaze, clenched his jaw and nodded.

With both of his arms restrained above his head, Mathew braced himself for whatever she was doing. Closing his eyes he felt a few stray tears fall down his cheek, he desperately hoped he was going to at least live through this.

He had already given up once tonight; and it was cruel for him to have to make that decision again.

Mathew turned his head away from the mermaid, finally breaking their silent exchange as he let out a shaky breath into the tattered sleeve of his shirt.

Wyn had been content to wait a moment for the man to calm down, though she had expected for him to thrash for longer. It was an anomaly, but she supposed that not all of the smaller folk could be counted on to be flighty, maybe it was just a land-people thing.

Moving slower for his sake, Wyn continued with her mission; she had already waited long enough to be finished.

Using her left hand Wyn quickly pressed her own navy scale along Mathews torso, restricting the flow of escaping magic.

The thin scale was as sharp as a whip. The texture biting harshly into Mathews skin making him groan as Wyn effectively plugged the hole in his side with a scale the size of a dinner plate.

Leaning down once more, Wyn closed her eyes as she gently pressed her lips over the given artifact.

Mathew hissed in pain as the billowing ribbons of magic spilled from Wyn’s mouth to seal the scale over his skin.

The flesh of his abdomen warped over the obtrusive material, stretching as they were melded together with magic.

Mathew groaned as he finally opened his eyes again, greeted with the close up of Wyn’s face as she pressed her lips to his chest. The warmth was almost unbearable as he watched more strange energy pour from the crease of her mouth.

The entrance of magic made him woozy, the massive amount of energy itself causing him to lose focus on what was happening. With a last drowsy thought, Mathew realized that he was drifting back towards unconsciousness.

The thought itself should have inspired some anxiety, or fear to be stranded with a giant mermaid in the middle of the ocean, but with her magic pouring directly into him, he couldn’t bring himself to distrust her.

It became clear that with her lips pressed heavily against his chest, that she was trying to help him.

A last bright flash of light seared into the scale as it began to glow vibrantly under the last dregs of�� Wyn’s magic. Making the finishing touches and using the rest of her well of energy, Wyn felt the man completely relax under her.

Pulling away, Wyn herself was a tad lightheaded from her expenditure. Finally allowing herself to dip deeper into the water she held both hands above the waves as she let go of his wrists.

Catching herself, Wyn pushed herself back up to see the small man again, only to find him asleep in her palm.

Dragging a wandering finger down his side, Wyn smiled at her handiwork. The blue of her scale had fused with his skin nicely and created a discolored area on his abdomen. There wasn’t a trace of any stab wound in sight.

A trill of excitement rumbled in her chest as she smiled brightly.

Spying the small man's face, Wyn pushed his arms back down to his sides. He looked much more at peace like this. There was no shaking or shouting or fighting. He was calm.

With the smallest brush of her finger, Wyn tilted Mathews head straight so she could get a good look at his face before deciding that it was time to go.

With a careful glance around, Wyn was sure to check for any nearby ships along the horizon. When she found none, Wyn ticked her tongue in annoyance, there would be no easy dumping of her new pet on some passing human vessel. She was going to have to carry him back to shore if she didn’t want her efforts to go to waste.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Wyn candidly searched for something to carry him in. If she was going to have to swim to the nearest human settlement, then she would have to have both hands open.

Among the debris, there was mostly wood, a few floating boxes or barrels, but other than that, the sails had burned up a while ago and sunk with the Mariot.

Wyn searched for multiple minutes before her eyes managed to pick up something discolored in the water nearby.

Dredging closer to it, Wyn pulled the blue scrap of fabric from the water. Spreading it out over her hand, Wyn was surprised to see a symbol she actually recognized.

Adorned on the blue sun bleached fabric was the emblem of a silver whale beneath a yellow sun. She had seen the emblem multiple times during her time in the area.

The ships that carried these flags were usually ladened down with lots of cargo, they were heavy and hard to take down so she usually left them alone. Not to mention that they were very sorely missed by the settlements nearby Wyn thought sourly.

Passing a look over to her passenger, Wyn decided that the fabric would be plenty big enough, and with the added insignia to her knowledge, she knew exactly where he belonged.

Thinking again, Wyn looked around, taking into account the lack of little barrels or boxes that usually accompanied a sinking ship of this size. It was unusual for a ship to be this empty even when it was obviously not weighed down by extra cargo.

Wyn let a wicked grin spread across her face. There was another ship in the vicinity that was moving slower than usual.

A soft trill escaped her chest as she planned her next meal, all the while carefully wrapping up her precious cargo in a fabric hammock.

Tying all the ends together, Wyn made a big knot before bringing it up to her mouth. Holding the knot between her teeth, Wyn let herself sink lower into the water so she could swim, and with a few testing strokes she was off.

Using her powerful tail and navigating with her arms, Wyn was quick to get closer to shore. The longer she strayed from her territory, the more likely the other ship was going to get away.

The swim took a little less than three hours before Wyn began to see the signs of human civilization along a stretch of land. The small shimmerings of lanterns speckled the hillside in different clusters. Wyn could have almost mistaken it as a continuation of the night sky if it hadn’t been for the musky smell of earth and fish that clung to the air.

In her time around the area she had observed many ships come and go from this port, and in some cases she had indulged in a bit of thievery.

Sometimes it was better to simply steal things off the deck than it was to capsize the entire ship. If too many boats went missing, the pesky coast militia would be out in force.

Ships especially with this silver whale were good at stocking boxes of exotic fruits and snacks she had never seen before, but beyond that, Wyn had no idea what the insignia meant.

Though Wyn thought it was a fair assumption that if her mysterious boy woke up at the port flying his matching banner that he would be okay.

Making sure to glide as closely to the water’s surface as possible, Wyn tried to not get seen or stir up a fuss. The last thing she needed was an angry fleet of ships trailing after her over a ship she didn’t even destroy.

Rolling her eyes at the thought, Wyn waded closer to the emptiest part of the docks. The ships in this area were smaller, belonging to local companies and personal fishing vessels. Coincidentally, they were also furthest away from any of the funny looking buildings which more than likely had people in them.

Using her right hand, Wyn was careful to gather the bundle hanging from her mouth and place the man along the wooden slats of the platform.

Trying to stay low in the water, Wyn’s chest rumbled with a low groan of frustration as her tail was drug across the sharp rock face in the shallow water. It was hard enough to move when this close to shore, and it was even harder when trying to be inconspicuous.

Struggling a bit more than she had liked, Wyn managed to untie her clumsy knot before letting the edges of the flag fall to the damp wood.

Beneath the edges of the wet cloth was Mathew, still asleep from the effects of her magic. He was peaceful, sleeping with his mouth open and his head turned away from Wyn’s gaze.

Glancing around the docks before she moved, Wyn rose a bit above the tide. Using a careful finger and the barest of pressure Wyn lifted at his shoulder to roll him towards her.

Under the barest flutterings of light from the western sky Wyn’s yellow eyes dilated. Mathews' face was tranquil, none of his previous fear or worry was present on his face; it was as if the night had never happened.

Wyn wondered idly if when he woke up in the morning he would be able to chalk this night up to a very vivid dream, or a simple rowdy night of drinking that left him sleeping on the docks.

Though she supposed it would take just over a fortnight for her scale to be completely absorbed, and then she would be just a memory. A discolored blemish on his side to remember her by.

Sighing abruptly, her breath tousled his brown hair away from his face as she withdrew from the docks sinking back into the water. Turning from him, Wyn spared one backwards glance before she pushed off from the sandy shore and sunk her head beneath the waves.

It was unlikely that she was ever going to see him again, and even more so that he would ever look upon her favorably; but it was probably better that way.

Flipping her tail heavily, Wyn quickly drug herself back to deeper water to catch up to her runaway pirates.

Consciousness hit Mathew over the head like it was a steel pipe.

It was a fortunate gift that he truly hadn’t rolled off the dock in his sleep, though what was waiting for him wasn’t much better.

A stab of nausea dug into Matthew's temple like a nail as his head lolled to the side, neither did it help that the brilliant light of the sun was high in the sky and trying its best to blind him.

The dried crusting of sand and salt clung to his clothes in a way that managed to chafe all of the wrong areas. As he rolled over on his side, Mathew first became aware of the swimming feeling of vertigo that made his head spin and his stomach swell.

His brown eyes tried their best to focus in the bright light, but it was no use. Mathew only managed to crack his eyes open a peek before his stomach lurched and he was forced to retch up a stomach full of bile and seawater.

Gagging hard, Mathews stomach tightened as he pushed himself to his hands and knees. His head swam with the constant barrage of questions and prayers. He was happy to be alive, but incredibly confused as to why.

He was at sea? The last thing he remembered was the giant. The Magic?

Mathews hand grazed down to his side before brushing away his starchy shirt and feeling for his wound.

Over where there should have been a tattered hole in his abdomen there was nothing. His skin was smooth to the touch, albeit colder than the rest of him, but there was no hole, and there was only a remnant of soreness.

Over the crashing sounds of the water, some of his nausea subsided as he began to gather his bearings. Opening his eyes fully, Mathew felt the sunburned sin of his face crinkle under the strain of his surprised expression.

He was on a dock.

Around him were small fishing vessels and dinghies used for shallow water cruising. They were all orderly tied off to the posts of the dock, and not a thing seemed out of place.

The only actual thing that did seem odd was him.

Over his cresting confusion, Mathew heard a voice cut through the noise of waves hitting the wooden posts.

“Huh, to be hones’ kid.. I thought ye were dead.” he heard a hearty voice laugh out from one of the nearby boats.

Snapping his head to attention, Mathew met eyes with an older gentleman who had been idly watching him from his vessel.

Mathews' mouth was dry, and in desperate need for a drink of water but he still tried to answer the man anyways.

“Wh-What?” he croaked, his voice cracking.

The older man simply cocked an eyebrow at him and began to chuckle.

“Boy” he laughed, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he smiled.

“I remember those days.. though out of all of the odd places I ‘ave ever ended up, I don’t think I was ever drunk enough to end up sleepin’ on the docks.”

Mathew was even more confused. The docks? His mind reeled as Mathew struggled to find a coherent question.

“What port are we at?” Mathew asked, trying to figure out where the giant mermaid could have brought him.

His question only seemed to make the man laugh harder at his predicament, and Mathew was left to flounder on dry land.

With a groan, Mathew finally pushed himself to sit on the creaky boards. Flipping his shirt back down, he carefully covered his torso as his bare feet splayed out in front of him. With a look of thinly veiled nausea and incredulity Mathew wiped a hand down his face and cringed as his rough palm scraped against what was definitely sunburn on his cheeks and eyelids. Beyond his form, the lone fisherman wiped tears from his eyes as he tried his best to regain his composure.

“We’re a’ port Allerbell” The man laughed, finally regaining his composure enough to meet Mathews' gaze once more.

Allerbell? Mathews' confusion grew even more. That was at least two days southeast from where the Mariot went down.

In his confusion, Mathews' gaze swept downward and caught sight of a familiar blue fabric beneath him.

His right hand splayed out along the fabric as he ran his hands along a sunbleached edge. A soft smile split across Matthew's face as tears welled in his eyes which were quickly swept away.

Beneath him, there was the rumpled and tattered blue fabric of his family crest. It was the flag that had been hung on the Mariot and then tossed overboard.

The mermaid had brought it with him, he concluded. The thought was sweet as he managed to pull himself together.

The skin on his face was radiating heat at this point, and Mathew was severely uncomfortable if not ecstatic to be alive. He had to get under cover at this point and find a way home.

His family's estate was only a few hours north of Allerbell. There he would be able to recuperate and tell his father his own tall tale about a beautiful sea beast that had saved him and brought him to shore.

Wobbling like a baby bird, Mathew managed to pull himself to his feet and gather the worn fabric from the sun bleached docks. He counted his blessings as he tried to maintain his balance through his nausea and dehydration.

He had been on many trips to Allerbell before, there was a Wathelet merchant outlet not too far from here; all he had to do was make it there.

A smile spread along his face, and despite his sunburn he grinned at the old man sitting in the nearby boat.

“Thank you” he breathed before his gaze swept out to the brilliant blue ocean.

Mathew beamed at the distant horizon, sending another silent thank you to the open water.

Turning away, Mathew waved a hand over his shoulder at the man as he made his way towards the shore.

He supposed it was better this way. It was just a shame that he hadn’t been able to thank her, or even ask her why she had put so much effort into saving him.

Shaking his head, Mathew concentrated on what was immediately important, which at the moment was his balance.

Putting one foot in front of the other Mathew slowly made his way to the shore, and on his way, he made himself a promise.

He would find her again.

#giant/tiny #size difference #g/t writing #handheld #sizetumblr #macrophilia #gentle giant #giant tiny #mermaid #pirates

10 notes · View notes

unicorncornflakes · 2 years ago

Text

Little One - Story AU! | Chapter 3

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Paring: Reader x Aemond Targaryen.

Summary: You are the only daughter of Jacaerys Velaryon, future lord of the tides. After the victory of Aegon and his side in the war, your family suffers the rejection in Driftmark. There you must always give an account to the king's new hand, Aemond Targaryen. However, when the time comes, Aegon and his court claim you as Queen Helaena's lady-in-waiting. As a new piece of the Greens' strategy to coerce your father, you are taken to King's Landing to begin your life in high society. Aemond will be, much to his pleasure, in charge of guiding you in this new stage.

Tags: Alternate Universe/ Enemies to Lovers/ Emotional Hurt/Comfort Drama & Romance/ Eventual Smut.

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st, at some points.

Tag-List (If you wanna be tagged in thi series or all of my work, let me know): @thedamewithabook @bluevxnus @tempt-ress

Author´s note: Pls, enjoy! Feedback, shares and comments are always welcome!

Word Count: 5K

The jaws of that dragon were approaching you. There was no escape. There wasn't. It didn't exist. Had it ever existed? It was a golden dragon. His scales glistened in the sunlight and he was chasing you. You glanced back at that Driftmark cliff for a moment. His wing membranes were pale pink. While you tried to run barefoot, that monster was chasing you with its mouth open, ready to spit fire at you if you didn't stop. But you weren't going to stop. To stop meant to die. Something inside you told you. You kept running. Run. Run. Run. That was all you could do. Your feet ached and began to bleed from the sharp rocks of that cliff. The threads of blood clung to the rocks. Sticky and garnet. Dense but recent blood. The dragon growled, frustrated that you wouldn't give in, that you wouldn't hold back. He was going to spit all his fire on you.

Just as he was about to expel a hot, destructive mass, Vhagar appeared. The old dragon caught him by the neck, and she squeezed. She squeezed until the other dragon ceased its attempt to destroy you. He made a plaintive sound. A roar that was heard all along the coast of Driftmark. However, the older dragon did not relent in her grip, and she kept squeezing him. You finally stopped. Bloody feet on that cliff as the two dragons fought to see who possessed you… you could feel it, you could see the tension in both mounts. The golden dragon kept screeching. Vhagar squeezing until a sound, a nauseating crack was heard... the golden dragon's neck gave way to that deadly grip and then Vhagar roared at the sky, only to end up looking at you. His reptilian eyes fixed on you. So you did feel it, you shouldn't have stopped. You were sold. She roared, lunging at you.

Helaena screamed at the sight of her vision and Aemond held her close in the dead of night. The prince didn't know what was up with her, but he knew that the days after a dream that woke her up screaming were always difficult for her.

And then your eyes snapped open. You wanted to scream, but you just covered your mouth to suppress it. You let out a plaintive sound. A muffled moan in the middle of that empty room in the Red Keep. You breathed hard and cried. You wanted to come home. However, at that moment you felt a pinch in your lower stomach very similar to... No. No. No. No. Your body couldn't do this to you. It Could not. It was being a full-blown betrayal. You felt betrayed when you just pulled back the sheet and saw the big bloodstain emanating from between your legs. Not only did it hurt more than other times, but it was twice as abundant. What was happening to you? Your body betrayed you. The blood came out sticky and thick maroon. You cried even more bitterly. And you quickly got out of bed. Sore. Your stomach was pricking. Your breasts looked like they were going to burst from the tension... your whole body reacted badly to the evidence that you were bleeding more than any other month. It seemed as if your body wanted Aemond to know that you were already bleeding… What would become of you? You got up as fast as you could. You felt how the blood slipped down your legs and you tried to convince yourself that you could eliminate the evidence. Yeah. That was. You would remove the sheets. You would be able to burn them if by doing so you avoided being discovered. You didn't want anyone there to know you were already bleeding. Even less after the terrible dinner the night before. The king did not take his eyes off him while he drank and ate as if he had no measure. Aemond thought he was more discreet, but you had also seen how he looked at you. The mere prospect of ending up in one of his beds or even both of them made you sick, and made your stomach hurt even more. You removed them with difficulty, drenching them even more in your blood. It was being a disaster. Then you heard the door creak right behind you. You froze, afraid to look at who was behind you.

"But what the hell are you doing?" Mistra scolded you, slamming the door behind her. The maid scrambled up next to you, and she gripped the sheets even harder than you did. "The one-eyed man said you didn't bleed," she hissed, pulling back the sheets.

"And I don't" you told her forcefully while you also pulled the sheets in pain. "I have a wound..."

"Yeah, sure. Do you intend to keep lying until you're fifty?" said the woman pulling the sheet just like you. She looked at you for a moment and saw the fear in your eyes. You were still nervous removing them from the bed, but you realized that you had stained even the mattress. You wanted to die “I have to tell someone. This is a mess. It takes more than two hands to clean this up here.” With difficulty and breathing hard, the old woman went to the door of your chambers, ready to ask any other of her companions for help. You squealed, plaintive with tears in your eyes.

"No, please, no" You pleaded, kneeling down. “Please don't tell anyone. No one can know" was what you told her, not daring to look at her. Defeated in that situation. The old woman looked at you. She looked at you pityingly and turned to you. Lifting you up with a sweetness that you didn't think possible in that woman.

"They're going to find out sooner or later, girl. What's the point of hiding it?" she whispered to you. And you looked into her eyes, looking for complicity that you knew you shouldn't look for.

“Please…” you whispered to her, remembering your father's words. You shouldn't trust anyone. In absolutely no one. Yet there you were pleading with a woman you barely knew. She had simply helped you get dressed one day and she had helped you with your bath. It was already more than anyone else had done. Aemond had put her at your service for something. You knew that, but you expected female complicity from her, sisterhood. After all, she knew what the fate of any woman was in those days. She herself must have suffered.

"Do you want the one-eyed man to hang up on me because I haven't informed him?" she hissed, in case you weren't understanding her situation. Your fate when they found out you were bleeding, would be rape at best. That woman's if they found out that she had betrayed her lords would be her death. For a poor palace maid, who had lived through what she had lived through, she knew which of the two fates was worse.

"I beg you. Don't tell him" you insisted again. And she just sighed, turning back to bed in defeat. You saw that she was taking her sheets by herself and you helped her in silence. You knew that she was going to help you at that moment. She groaned as she picked up all the sheets and loaded them into a sack.

“I am going to prepare a bath and I will bring you some rags so that you can put them on today. If anyone finds out about this, I don't know anything” she told you with little love and pain as she left the room. She was tired of the green ones, and she felt that the one-eyed man was going to kill her, even if she spoke or not.

Already dressed and arranged by Mistra, the old woman silently guided you through the corridors of the Red Keep. No one had bothered to show it to you. After all, no one really knew what you were there for. But, that same morning, the one-eyed man had told Mistra to take you to the queen's chambers, and so she was doing. She always faithful and well commanded. Dressed in green and yellow, she trudged for her age, but she was still one of Aemond's most trusted women there, even if she always called him one-eyed.

She kept walking while you followed close behind, aching from your lunar blood. She looked at you out of the corner of her eye just to check that you were following her. She stopped dead in front of the door to Queen Helaena's chambers and turned to get a better look at you.

"I suppose they did teach you protocol in Driftmark, right?" she asked you trying to catch her breath. She had tried to get as fast as she could to meet her masters, but you and your lunar blood had not made it easy for her that day. Now she was afraid that any of them would suspect her treachery.

"Yes, I have to revere the queen when I see her" you said, tilting your head in a subtle and sweet movement, and Mistra thought that you also had the same problem that Helaena had had all her life: Lack of lights . The woman frowned.

“You won't last here, little one. They're all going to devour you” was the only thing she said when she opened the door, and you froze at her words. However, you didn't even have time to respond. She opened the door and pushed you into the Queen's chambers. You swallowed hard as you saw Queen Mother Alicent scowl at you as she noticed your presence. She sighed and you bowed to her as she looked back at her daughter who was sitting on the bed, staring blankly at the wall. Alicent caressed her daughter's face gently.

"You're late" was all Alicent said. Her voice cold and her eyes even harder. You didn't even know what to answer. You did not expect that no one was waiting for you. "My son informed you of your duties, right?" she said, getting up and placing herself with difficulty in front of you. Age had wrinkled a face that should have been beautiful, and she had turned it into a grimace and pain. Alicent hadn't lost any children in the war, but she certainly hadn't been victorious in that contest either. What was left to her was only offal. The remains of three children. The remains of a daughter who barely made any sound.

"Yes, my lady" you said sweetly. "He told me…"

"'Yes my Queen'. This is how you have to address me” she said diligently, soberly, haughtily. Alicent was not going to allow a daughter of traitors to speak to her in a disrespectful manner. She was your queen whether you liked it or not.

"Yes, my queen" you answered with a scared and intimidated voice. You wanted to come home. You needed to come home. There you were not going to get a single ally.

"Good. You will come here every day at dawn. You will accompany the queen so that she does not feel alone. You will watch that nothing happens to her. You will feed her. You will accompany her. You will have lunch with her every day. You will go for a walk with her…” Queen Alicent began to list all your responsibilities. You almost looked like a caretaker, more than a lady-in-waiting. The poor queen continued with her eyes lost against the wall while the old queen continued with all the great list. You kept looking at her while she continued talking. She went on and on instructing you until Queen Helaena seemed to make a plaintive sound. She almost seemed like she couldn't breathe. Alicent stopped talking to you and she ran to see what was wrong with her daughter, her face full of concern. You stayed put while that poor woman nearly convulsed in bed. Her eyes rolled back and she nearly foamed at her mouth. You've never seen anyone like this before. You understood that your father had shielded you too much from the real world. The Queen Mother looked at you in disbelief.

"What's the matter?" she asked you in a scream. “Are you going to come help me or are you going to just stand there?” she told you and you ran to meet her even though you didn't really know why. The queen kept ordering you before what you had to do. She asked you to bring a piece of wood closer and place it inside Helaena's mouth while Alicent opened that same cavity for her. Everything had the function that she did not bite her tongue while she had that attack. You watched the queen writhe on her bed, screaming and wailing as she rolled her eyes. “This is all your family's fault…if they hadn't killed her children…my sweet girl…” And you went pale as the queen continued to convulse. You knew who the greens in your family had killed, but you didn't expect that anyone in your family could have killed two small children. You needed to come home. Another seizure. Another muffled scream. You really needed it.

"Don't dare to tell me that you brought her here to help Helaena." Aemond heard his mother's voice behind him. His hands resting on the balustrade of that balcony that overlooked the palace gardens. At the same time, he was watching you strolling in the distance with the queen. You led her in silence, followed by a bunch of maids. You had noticed that, for being a queen, Helanea had no lady-in-waiting but you. It seemed as if the rest of the great houses of Westeros, whether big or small, weren't the least bit interested in joining the new royal family.

Aemond continued to watch you. At the time putting his hands behind his back while he ignored his mother. Alicent sighed heavily and moved to her son's side, undermining Helanea with concern.

"What have you brought her for, Aemond?" she heard him sigh with pity and sorrow. "That girl... that girl is only going to bring us trouble" she said, looking at him while her son kept staring at you. Alicent had always dreamed of knowing what was going through Aemond's heads, as if he were the most difficult to decipher of all her children. Just when her mother was going to give up and leave, Aemond spoke, looking at her sideways.

"I have plans with her" was all he said and Alicent looked at him confused. The queen mother raised her chin, as if she at that moment had understood why her son had really taken you to the king's landing.

“Are they like the same plans you had with the witch you found in Harrenhal?” her mother attacked him, and Aemond looked at him without love. As if reminding him of his own weakness and stupidity with Alys, he made him feel like a mortal and not the deity that he was for being a Targaryen.

"No," he hissed through his teeth, hurt that Alicent, his own mother, had reminded him of that. "I'll never fail the realm like that again" he spat without any love, wanting to mark his authority, but, he had discovered that the only one he couldn't do it with was her. And, perhaps it was better that way.

"That time was enough for us to be like this now" Alicent snapped just before leaving. He stopped looking at you. You didn't need supervision. You were very sweet. You would end up getting along with what was left of Helaena. He only returned to his chambers to run his kingdom. If they were in that situation, it was his fault. And Aemond knew it very well.

Sitting back in Queen Helanea's chambers after a short walk, you looked up at the ceiling. You needed to get away from there. However, at that moment when both you and the queen were alone, Helaena made a plaintive sound again. You were afraid, what if she had another attack? You were alone, if it had been difficult for you to control it while the queen mother was there, what would become of you if she gave it to you while you were alone? But, only at that moment that you got up to see what was happening to her, she suddenly looked at you, fixing her violet eyes on you. You stood still while those violet eyes, with tiny pupils, scrutinized you in silence. "Watch out for the dragons, little one" she whispered.

"What?" you asked scared. But, she did not speak again. She made no sound. She just cried and you dried her tears. You could only think, sore from your lunar blood, that this was the best thing that could happen to you. After all, at least you weren't warming anyone's bed.

"The girl can't wear a dress like that today." Mistra broke up the conversation the tailor and Aemond were having in his study. This first one was showing him the dress that he had ordered for you. In the next tournament, you would wear a dress with green and gold transparencies that covered your buttocks, your breasts and your pubis at most. The rest of the skin would be exposed. The Hand was dying to see you in that dress that he had ordered almost from the first day he had seen you swim naked on the beach of Marcaderiva, two years ago. He had patiently waited for you to have bled. A pity they hadn't told him. He would have given you that dress for your birthday himself. Aemond sneered at Mistra, raising a single eyebrow. Not only had she interrupted him, but she was denying a direct order of his and she hadn't even addressed him by his title.

"Why not?" he asked to the old maid. The tailor was silent, displaying the dress on his arms. At Mistra's silence and her penetrating gaze, Aemond sent the tailor out of his study. The little man complied, clutching the dress, and only when he was gone did Mistra speak. Aemond sat in his study just to continue writing edicts. He was the only thing he dedicated himself to those days. He was the law.

“She has bled this morning. Just when I entered her room she was trying to eliminate the evidence” Mistra told Aemond and he stopped typing abruptly. He just looked at her silently. Silence always invited the other to continue speaking. The silence made people uncomfortable. He leaned back in his chair, while Mistra continued talking "she made Me promise that I wouldn't tell you anything" commented the old maid "she was scared".

“They have been telling me for two years that she does not bleed. I would be too if I were her” Aemond smirked as he lifted the glass to his lips. He took a small sip. It was the right moment that he had been waiting for too long "But... let's continue her game..." Mistra looked at him confused and he continued speaking. “You are going to earn her trust. I'm going to pretend you didn't tell me anything. I want… I want to know what it tells you about her life in King's Landing, about my family… about me…”

The old maid made no gesture, but she also knew what Aemond wanted from you. She must have known better than the one-eyed man himself, who was beating the air trying to avoid her true intentions. But, the old woman was as old as the devil and she knew even more than he did. She knew that the one-eyed prince's plans passed through your bed and between your legs. Although he did not want to admit it.

"As you wish" the maid answered sincerely. She was a servant of Aemond, who should truly reign, though she was now content to be merely her brother's hand. A true loss to the kingdom. Mistra could have been faithful to you, but that put her head in danger. With that you would learn, she told herself. You would learn to play the way they played in the capital.

“Tonight, I will have dinner with her. Prepare everything so that she is ready. You may retire,” was all Aemond said to her, and Mistra wondered if tonight would finally be the time when you would know the true feeling of being a woman in King's Landing.

You helped Alicent take one last bite of her dinner for Queen Helaena. After their outburst that morning, Aemond had decided that they would all dine separately. Aegon would dine quietly and alone with his whores. Jaehaera and Daeron would dine in the former's chambers. You had noticed that they spent a lot of time together. Alicent would dine with Helaena… And Aemond would do it by himself. You thought he was always alone. But you didn't care. If you were there, it was his fault. He was the one who had taken you to King's Landing. You thought it would have been nice to have dinner with Alicent and her daughter, but you really knew better. So you decided that she would have dinner alone. With no one to bother you, you once helped Helaena to bed.

Once all your labors were finished, you went to your chambers. However, Mistra intercepted you on the way and told you that the one-eyed man wanted to see you. You looked at her confused, what if she had blabbed and told Aemond? No, it couldn't be. You trusted her. It must have been a coincidence. You walked after her again, for the second time that day. Following her like a slaughtered lamb. Was it that you were something else?

Aemond lifted his wineglass to his lips with a smirk as he watched you enter the doors of his chambers. You were beautiful, but you always were to him. Mistra nodded goodbye to him and you timidly entered his chambers. You were dressed in green and black on that occasion, with a discreet neckline, but one that would delight many. He got up as soon as he saw you and fixed his only eye on you. His face completely stoic.

“My prince" you greeted him with a bow of the head and the sweet voice that Aemond imagined you would have when you were tangled between the sheets of his bed. 'My prince'. He imagined that you whispered it with a smile in his ear while he was kissing the skin of your neck. He could see that you were afraid of him. You were still standing in front of him, even when Mistra had closed the door behind her. But that didn't bother him. Rather the complete opposite. That turned him on.

"(Y / N), you look very beautiful tonight" he told you as Aemond with his hand invited you to sit next to him at a small table in his private chambers. On the table were two plates, a few meats, and fruit. He didn't throw the big feasts that Aegon did to impress a woman.

"What do you need from me, my lord?" you spoke in a sweet voice, but without moving from the same place next to the door where the maid had left you. Aemond looked at you confused. The old woman should not have informed you. She only should have told you that he wanted to see you. Nothing else. You grabbed the skirt of your dress. You obviously didn't want to be there, but Aemond…he wanted you to be.

“We could have dinner together. Both you and I would have dinner alone tonight if not” he told you as he offered you a seat again. And you doubted so much kindness. That arrogant smile that he outlined as soon as he saw you. That cold purple eye that you didn't think could be happy with anything.

You slowly approached and sat next to him. You weren't going to deny him what he wanted, no matter how much you wanted to run away from there. Aemond always terrified you. He always did. Once in the chair, the prince sat back down as well. You pursed your lips when you felt him so close to you. He smelled of steel and leather. The scent of a man who, despite his skill at arms, still continued to train every day.

"Why don't you serve me wine?" he asked you, looking at you with an arrogant smile and you nervously picked up the jug of wine, almost trembling. You had never been alone with him. That must have been one of your father's worst nightmares and… one of Aemond's best dreams. You served him in silence while he pinched a few grapes and put them in his mouth with amusement while he watched you in silence. Seeing how you didn't pour wine for yourself, he took the jug himself. Willing to serve you. He would show you that he could also have nice gestures with you. Yet you put your hand on your cup. He raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “It's a fine Dornish wine. I'm sure you would enjoy it."

“No, I… I don't feel like it” you whispered. You took the jug of water and served yourself. He sighed, setting the wine jug back on the table. You didn't intend to drink that night. You couldn't afford to dull your senses with the enemy so close. You took a sip of water and helped yourself to some of the little meat that was on the table, Aemond did the same.

You began to dine in silence. You could only hear the night sound of the city at the foot of the Red Keep and the cutlery you were using. You saw that Aemond barely ate or drank, it seemed as if his presence manifested itself only from the air he breathed. He was methodical even in his way of eating. He was even disciplined in that. You both dined on the balcony that was in their rooms. You thought that he must have seemed like the best place of all those that existed in the sobriety of his rooms.

"Do you like the dinner?" he asked again, trying to talk about something with you. You didn't even know what to answer. Everything tasted like ashes. Things had stopped smelling and tasting since you'd left Driftmark, and really, you were glad. King's Landing just seemed to smell and taste like a rat's nest. It was better to have neither smell nor taste in this city. You just nodded your head and took a couple more bites. Aemond spoke again “I have asked for figs. I know what you like” you looked at him incredulous. How did he know that? He had only seen you eat at your father's last birthday celebration. You knew he hadn't taken his eye off you, but that…

At that moment, a dragon much smaller than Vhagar but still imposing, passed through the red keep on its way to the Dragonpit. You stayed silent. Admiring him. They really were beasts that scared you. You had only seen Vhagar. She was the only one you'd seen, but that's why you weren't going to be shocked to see another. Aemond chuckled sweetly. It was the first time you heard him, a different laugh than the arrogant one he always had.

"They're impressive, aren't they?" he asked, bringing his hand to yours, but you quickly pushed it away, hiding it under the table, much to Aemond's disquiet, who drank his wine again in a vain attempt to hide the shame he felt for such a bold move with you.

"I don't like dragons" you said as you turned your attention back to the food, ignoring the young dragon that kept flying to his home. "One murdered my uncle Luke, another two my grandmother Rhaenys, another my grandmother Rhaenyra" you blurted out without thinking, looking at him full of contempt, in a gesture you never thought you could do... and that turned Aemond on again. If before he had found you fascinating, now he found you irresistible, although he would never accept it. He was too proud for it. He just smiled at you as he amusedly leaned back against his chair. He went back to take another sip of his drink without even stopping to look at you with his only eye. You also had him for a Kinslayer. He would never have thought of you, but certainly, what did he know about you? Beyond seeing you naked on the beach a couple of times, or seeing you read in your rooms in Driftmark, or seeing you dance at your father's last birthday party…gods, He was crazy about you. He realized at that moment that you were trying to reveal yourself against a dragon.

"I see... that your father has told you about the Dance, even briefly" he smiled amused. "I'll tell you a secret..." he approached you and whispered in your ear. “History is written by the winners, and in this case, the losers were also jerks. It could be said that those who died won…” all your skin stood on end as you felt his hot breath against your skin. You lifted your chin arrogant and haughty. How could a man like Aemond cast a spell on you like that? It was impossible. He smiled when he saw your reaction, and at that moment, he gently caressed your bottom lip. In a gesture that he would never have thought himself capable of doing, he joined his lips to yours.

As you experienced your first kiss with your father's enemy, Helaena stared at the ceiling with unfocused eyes. Aegon was choking on a sip of wine that he tried to drink with his misshapen mouth. Your father silently mourned the death of your little brother. Jaehaera and Daeron held each other silently in her chambers. Alicent lit two candles in the sept. One for each dead grandson…everything had been torn apart by the Dance with Dragons. But right now, while the rest of the world suffered, Aemond Targaryen, a Kinslayer, was kissing the woman he liked... who happened to be the daughter of his worst enemy.

#aemond x y/n #aemond smut #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader

200 notes · View notes

kindergrrl · 2 years ago

Text

Courtney Love at the Hollywood Palladium for a Hole show.

November 9th, 1994.

Hollywood, CA.

In the first photo, Courtney is backstage. The 2nd photo is from the after party.

Hole performed here in front of some notable names such as Ringo Starr, Danny Devito, and Juliette Lewis just to name a few.

According to a show review, Courtney had brought Frances Bean out on stage and said that she didn’t care if anyone thought she was exploiting her, Frances Bean was the most successful thing she’d ever done in her life.

The After Party story is quite a trip. Mary Lou Lord who Kurt was going out with right before he got with Courtney made the grave mistake of showing up to this after party.

From Mary Lou Lord herself, here is the story -

“Well, in retrospect, it was quite a night. I was there because we had the same booking agent and I was invited by the entire William Morris people. I liked Hole. I thought it would be ok. I never did anything to her. If anything, I should have been the one pissed off….but yea, the night proceeded in her chasing me down Sunset. Her dress straps fell down, so at that point in the chase….barefoot with a blue thing around her waist. I had torn myself away from a security dude at the gate and in the process my shirt, bra, hat…all that came off. I was running down sunset topless with her essentially topless and barefoot chasing me. I hid behind a big lamp post behind the denny’s and sort of had to crouch and circle around it when she got close. I pissed my pants I was so scared….ugh.”

“She chased me down the entire side of the Palladium on the fire escape in her bare feet screaming the whole way “I’m gonna k!ll you!” the guard guy at the fence thought I stole a guitar or a mic or something and was trying to keep me in the gated area. I pulled away leaving him with my clothes. shit, I never ran so fast in my life. The funny thing, is that many of the people from the remains of the party also followed down that long fire escape to watch the action….I distinctly remember a person with a movie quality camera catching this whole thing running behind us.”

Credits:

1st review used cited from lonesomebeehive .com

Mary Lou's story cited from rocknyc .live

Live shots by Kevin Estrada.

#90s #grunge #music #alternative #nirvana #kurt cobain #seattlesound #courtney love #hole band #kinderwhore

115 notes · View notes

ohbo-ohno · 2 years ago

Note

Obessed with the idea where you’re just really damn fast in the ghoap serial killer AU.

So Simon and Johnny let you go thinking it’d be a fun little game for them, except— much to their shock— you make them work for it. (Maybe you’re muzzled during this so that you don’t try to scream and attract attention from anyone nearby?)

Just imagining Johnny being giddy with excitement and Simon cocking his head ever so slightly as they watch you disappear into the forest. They’d take off after you, feet thundering against the ground and echoing throughout the forest— and somehow, you seem to speed up even more.

Feel like you would have the advantage of being lighter than Simon and Johnny, letting you gain more momentum, enough to prevent them from capturing momentarily; but I also feel like they’d have shitloads of stamina and their military training to boot.

So maybe in the beginning they take it easy, perhaps underestimating you�� something they make sure to not do next time— and just yelling out to you in the forest. Johnny would taunt you with a big shit-eating grin on his face and Simon would say the most ominous shit that would internally freak you the fuck out.

The start to get worried when they notice some smoke and realise some campers or something are nearby.

You notice the same time they do and you take off with them hot on your heels. (Knowing that Death in the form of two men are following close behind you, that these people will likely die because of your choice— knowing and choosing to anyway, praying that they’ll be enough to distract Simon and Johnny long enough so that you can escape.)

Your start to hear sounds, and something stirs in you; but before you can make it another step you’re slammed into the ground and the air is forced out of you. Maybe you’re dazed and can’t focus on anything but breathing at the moment- you don’t even notice when you’re picked up or being moved, can only scream in frustration later when Simon and Johnny have chained you up as punishment.

(Simon ends up putting a leather shock collar on you next time they play so that you don’t get to far— unbeknownst to you of course. You just think that they’re fucking insane and logically, in your brain, said territory just comes with weird kinks on top of that.)

🍋 Anon

Lemon you’re my soulmate

I’m always so torn on how much of a Character to make a reader insert, because I don’t want to actually make an OC. I never describe readers in my WIPS either (so anyone can read them - please let me know if I ever use descriptive words and I’ll cut them out) past having them be AFAB and fem presenting, but the temptation to give them a decently unique background is sooo strong.

I love love love the idea of the Serial Killer AU!Reader being from like, rural southern America (like me lol) and having grown up chasing friends through the forest, so this whole “playing tag with a serial killer” thing ends up being just That taken to its most extreme version. She’s a little bit feral, she’s run barefoot through the woods before, she can do this

The scenario you wrote with the campers has my heart pounding. I could see that going one of two ways

(a) You make it to the campsite. As soon as you spot the smoke you’re off like a shot, and because you’re closer to the campers than Ghost and Soap, you get there first. The poor campers are having a lovely night toasting marshmallows and bam - a naked, muzzled, and filthy woman bursts into the clearing like her ass is on fire.

You try to rush them out - don’t worry about the muzzle you have to fucking go they’re literally right behind you - but they’re not listening, crowding around you instead and prying at the muzzle, at your sluggishly bleeding cuts (from the bushes you’d skimmed). They’re weirdly touchy, and you end up desperately shoving their hands away and near screaming through the muzzle to be heard.

The first one is shot through the head. One second he’s panicking and telling his friends to get away from you, the next his head is just gone - just an explosion of red and brains from a shotgun blast. That gets the others screaming, gets them dashing away from you. But you know it’s too late, can only fall to your knees and squeeze your eyes shut in hopes that it’s over soon.

You only stay like that for a moment, their screams already fading a little with your disassociation, when a rough hand grabs a chunk of your hair and yanks back. Your eyes fly open, and Simon rumbles in your ear, “No, look. Look at what he’s doing to them. Look at what you’ve done to them.” You thrash a little, throwing yourself this way and that to try and get away but Simon’s grip doesn’t loosen at all, and you don’t want him to tear chunks of your hair out. You squeeze your eyes shut to block out the axe Johnny raises high above his head and the screaming girl beneath him, only to feel a heavy smack against your cheek. Simon snarls, his anger radiating through every word. “No. You fucking look. This is your fault, these people wouldn’t have died if you hadn’t fucked everything up. You’re going to watch them suffer, and then you’re going to dig their graves.”

And you do. You watch Johnny decapitate the girl, watch him guy another person and force their head down to see it, watch him strangle a third, bash a fourths head in with a rock. The dirt is more red than brown by the time he’s done, and you can’t hold back the sobs and pained moans, loud enough to be heard even through the muzzle. Johnny sits with you and the corpses while Simon grabs a shovel, reiterates again and again that these people died because you were a fucking idiot, and the three of you are out until sunrise while you dig a grave for them.

Later, Simon bandages your wrecked hands and Johnny coos over you, kisses your palms and apologizes when you whine at the sting. Simon gives you painkillers, and neither of them make you lift a finger until you’re all healed up

(b) You don’t make it to the campsite. Johnny and Ghost have already got you in their sights, and the half second you pause in surprise before taking off to your gives them enough time to catch up. You run with everything you’re worth, sprinting faster than you ever have before to get there before them and pray to God someone has a gun.

You’re almost there, you could nearly throw out a hand and be seen in the clearing, when you’re tackled to the earth. You go rolling, breath knocked out of you and your back erupting in pain as you’re viciously held to the ground. There’s a hand locked around your throat, and body straddling you, and it takes a minute for you to be able to blink past the pain and see that it’s Johnny.

“What were you gonna do, huh? Gonna go running off and beg for help? No one can fucking help you out here, bonnie. We’d slaughter them - might just do it anyway. That what you want? Huh?”

His teeth are bared, sweat dripping from his face to yours and eyes alight in a sort of primal rage. He flips you onto your stomach, fucks you deep into the dirt right there as you stare at your would-be saviors. You scream, cry, beg, and more, but the muzzle muffles you so you’re not even sure if Johnny can hear you. Your orgasm comes just as the first person’s head is blown to smithereens

Love the inclusion of the shock collar again. I feel like it fits more in this AU than the other one tbh

#🍋 anon #asks and answers #bo writes #serial killer ghoap x reader

92 notes · View notes

madlad-link · 20 days ago

Note

Hello. Please talk about Burning Cathedrals I am intrigued.

and you rolled… the angst fic!

so I really don’t have a lot of this written right now 😅 life’s been crazy man. So I’ll give you a larger snippet and talk a bit about it!

I kind of intend this to be sort of a character study of what’s happening with korra and asami in the b3 finale. I really want to get in their heads during such a tense episode and I think it’ll be fun and honestly healthy for me to explore. I intend to have two chapters, one from korras perspective and one from asami’s (but we’ll see how long that takes lol)

I also found it interesting, especially coming right out of b2, that korra only uses the avatar state… twice in b3. Once in I believe the first episode to try and tame spirit vines, which is a peaceful use of the avatar state, and then…, you know. The finale. I think she of course would still have open wounds about loosing her past lives, and I imagine the AS being very empty, and a very loud reminder whenever she goes into it. Lots of unresolved traumas that we can look at here.

She could never forget how it felt to have her uncle, and the growing darkness that possessed him, reach into the deepest sanctums of her soul. How he ripped Raava from the fibers of her rib cage and dragged her out her throat with as much care as a beast would show a carcass. How pain raced up her back, collected in her head and screamed in her ears, and threatened to turn her stomach inside itself as he killed off everything that people told her made her necessary.

She had watched them leave. Saw them rapidly fizzle out, one by one, as if ten thousand years hadn’t gone by to lead up to this moment. What was it all for?

What was it all for?

Another pulse of sharp pain tore through Korra’s body and she howled. Agony and rage erupted inside her chest, where the catalysts of mercury and eighteen years of her short life wasted fed the fire eagerly.

The cords of her neck felt like they were about to pop out or snap, which she began to anticipate as every single muscle in her body somehow found it within themselves to tense up further. She felt white hot flames sitting just behind her tongue, pacing around and crackling like a caged animal.

She knew what that felt like. Had an intimate relationship with the large part of her that was hunched, wild and angry, that stalked through her lungs and her head when things grew too large, too frustrating, too far out of her hands.

She let the fire scream out of her mouth with a guttural cry, straining against bodily limitations to try and force more out of her.

Everything and nothing stopped as she caught sight of a grey blur taking off through the damned cave he thought he could keep her in. She could rip the whole mountain apart if she wanted to.

Zaheer, the man who took the last of the Air Nomads, the man who — like so many others — wanted her dead. The man who wrenched her away from everyone she loved and killed her father.

The cave was collapsing, something Korra thought she weirdly prided herself in causing, and Zaheer was trying to escape.

Escape what? The cave? Or her?

It lit her up inside knowing it was her he was running from.

In the strangest way, she could have almost been thankful that Unalaq took her past lives from her. She lost their knowledge, knowledge that she rarely got the chance to tap into, but she also lost their shackles. She was on her own, with her own power, and using it she shattered the platinum chains that the Red Lotus tried to keep her in.

Fire ignited under her feet, rocketing her forward to chase after Zaheer in the air.

Here, as she was dying, fighting for her life by the skin of her teeth—

—Zaheer ducked and flew out of a small crevice in the mountain—

She was barefoot and her hair was down, she was angry—

—She broke through the mountainside and took off after him—

Mercury was in her blood and she was free. No one held her back. No promise of life restricted her.

Restraint had no place in the face of an eroding, metallic death.

#oops that was more than I thought #thank you for the ask miss bottles!#asks #korrasamibottles #korra

4 notes · View notes

mjonthetrack · 5 days ago

Text

vice

Chapter 138: Caught You Slippin’

The house was too quiet. And for once, it wasn’t because the Fatu compound had emptied out—it was because their littlest troublemaker had escaped again.

Jey stood in the hallway barefoot, shirtless, wearing only a pair of black shorts, looking around with a scowl like he was the one being hunted. He rubbed a hand down his face and muttered, “How the hell he keep gettin’ out that crib?”

Just then, he heard the soft slap of little palms on the hardwood. A tiny giggle echoed from the kitchen.

“JJ…” he warned, turning the corner—only to freeze.

There he was. Little man was completely naked, two tiny baby teeth poking out of a wide, guilty grin, a single sock on, crawling at top speed with a pacifier dangling from his mouth like he was on a jail break. His curls were wild. His little butt wiggled like he knew he was about to get caught.

“Oh hell nah,” Jey mumbled, dropping into a crouch and pointing, “You got five seconds to turn yo little ass around before I call yo mama.”

JJ paused. He looked at his dad. Then burst out laughing and took off crawling faster toward the open sliding glass door that led to the lanai.

“You really gon’ do this today?” Jey muttered, already jogging after him.

“Jey, don’t scare him!” came Nadia’s voice from the hallway.

And then—there she was.

Curvy. Glowing. Her waist snatched, body looking like she’d never been pregnant, skin smooth and glistening from fresh lotion, wearing a fitted tank top and a pair of soft shorts that gripped just right. Her hair was up, curls wild but pulled back, and a pink gloss shimmered on her full lips.

Jey’s steps stuttered. He forgot he was chasing anyone. Forgot JJ had just flung himself into a flowerbed.

“God damn,” he muttered under his breath, eyes dragging over her like he was starving.

“Don’t start,” Nadia said, shooting him a look as she bent to scoop up JJ, who shrieked in betrayal. “You the one who said we was waiting till the wedding. That was you.”

“Yeah but you the one walkin’ ‘round lookin’ like that.” His voice dropped a whole octave as he stepped up close, eyes dark, hungry. “You tryna test my patience, Nana?”

JJ, nestled in her arms, popped his pacifier out and let out a dramatic baby sigh—like he’d had enough of his parents’ nonsense.

Nadia grinned, cheeks dimpling, pressing a kiss to the top of her son’s curls. “Your daddy the one forgettin’ we got a wedding to plan and a baby who don’t sleep.”

Jey leaned in, his hand sliding around her waist. “I ain’t forget. I just think maybe… we move the date up. Like tomorrow.”

“You horny, that’s all.”

“You damn right.”

JJ let out a loud squeal, breaking their moment, arms reaching for his daddy. Jey took him easily, kissing his chubby cheek as JJ latched onto his chain like he was trying to rip it off.

“You gon’ pay for all this mischief one day,” Jey said, bouncing him gently. “Yo mama already got me in a chokehold, now you too?”

JJ giggled, baring those two little teeth again, and reached for Jey’s nose.

“And you,” Jey added, glancing at Nadia again, “gon’ be stuck with me forever. Soon as you say ‘I do,’ it’s over.”

Nadia smirked, brushing a curl off her face. “Boy, I been stuck. Just waitin’ on you to make it official.”

Chapter 139: The Dress. The Damage. The Baby Don.

“I don’t need the veil,” Nadia said confidently, smoothing her hands down her hips as the aunties bustled around her, adjusting delicate lace and soft satin. “That man ain’t gon’ be looking at nothing above the neck anyway.”

The women cackled. One even had to wipe her eyes from laughter. But it wasn’t a lie, and everyone in that room knew it.

Nadia turned in the mirror, proud. Confident. Her body was back and then some—curvier in all the right places, skin soft and gleaming under the white of the gown, like it had been kissed by God and reborn in fire. The dress clung, dipped, and flared in all the places that turned grown men silent. This was her moment. And she knew Jey? He was gonna lose his whole damn mind.

“He gon’ fold like laundry,” one of the older aunties whispered, fanning herself.

“And then some,” Nadia smirked, adjusting the slit that hit dangerously high. “Might need to carry some smelling salts for him.”

She glanced around, eyes narrowing. “Where’s JJ?”

The room went still.

“Wasn’t he just here?” one auntie asked, then froze when she heard a distant, mischievous baby squeal.

Oh no.

Meanwhile, outside on the massive back lawn, the men were in chaos of their own.

Jimmy was doubled over laughing, Sefa had his phone out recording, and Jey?

Jey stood frozen, shirtless in the sun, hands on his hips, trying to make sense of what was happening in front of him.

Little JJ was marching—yes, marching—across the lawn in a baby tuxedo, one suspender hanging loose. His chunky feet waddled confidently in soft white dress shoes. A tiny gold Cuban link glinted around his neck. And atop his head? A pair of toddler-sized sunglasses, tilted just so, perched like his daddy wore his.

JJ let out another joyful squeal and extended his little arms wide like he was about to body a linebacker.

“That’s yo son,” Jimmy wheezed, tears in his eyes.

Jey blinked. “Where the hell he even get that tux—”

“Your mama had it made two months ago,” Sefa said. “Said y’all was takin’ too long to tie the knot, so she got her grandson ready just in case.”

JJ squealed again, crashing into Jey’s leg, wrapping both arms around his shin like he was planting a flag. He tilted his head up, shades slipping, baby teeth gleaming in a wide grin.

Jey scooped him up and looked him in the face. “You tryna outshine me at my own wedding, lil man?”

JJ, ever the Fatu, gave him a wet kiss to the cheek and a fart sound against his neck before giggling like he knew exactly what he’d done.

Jey shook his head, grinning wide. “You dangerous.”

And then—

The door to the house opened.

Every head turned.

Silence fell.

Nadia stepped out in the dress.

Not her wedding-day entrance, not the aisle moment. But it didn’t matter. The sun lit her up like a goddess walking out of myth. Her hands on her hips, her brow raised like she dared someone to speak.

Jey’s mouth parted. No words. Just a blink. A stare. And then—

“God damn.”

Even JJ gasped.

Nadia grinned, smug. “Told y’all he’d fold.”

Chapter 140: The Real Dress. The Real Damage.

“You sweatin’, Uso,” Jimmy said, smirking as he leaned against the side of the groom’s tent, flicking a toothpick between his teeth.

Jey glared at him, pacing like a caged animal.

“I’m not sweatin’,” he muttered, yanking at the collar of his silk shirt. “Just hot.”

“It’s seventy-five and breezy, bro.”

“I SAID I’M NOT SWEAT—damn.” Jey exhaled sharply, running a hand down his beard, palms already clammy. His heart hadn’t stopped thumping since he woke up. Scratch that—since yesterday. Nadia hadn’t let him see her or the real dress, had banned him from the dressing areas, her phone, even JJ. Every time he tried to get a peek, someone’s mama or auntie blocked him like a linebacker.

“She gon’ look good, man,” Sefa offered, sipping on something golden. “You actin’ like you ain’t already seen her in a dress.”

Jey stopped pacing and pointed at him.

“That wasn’t the dress.”

The first dress? That was bait. A tight, curve-hugging decoy she let him see just to have him talking wild and nearly combusting two days early. He knew better. That wasn’t what she was walking down the aisle in. That was strategy.

“I’m tellin’ you—she plannin’ something. She tryna kill me on that aisle.”

“Wouldn’t be the worst way to go,” Jimmy joked.

Then—

“DADA.”

The voice came small but proud.

Everyone turned just in time to see JJ—little legs wobbling, arms wide for balance—stumbling toward Jey with a fierce, determined toddle. The baby tux was swapped now for a tiny custom lava-lava and a pair of soft, ceremonial sandals. The Cuban link still sat at his neck. His baby curls were shaped up clean and sweet-smelling, eyes twinkling with pride.

Jey scooped him up, holding him against his chest like a shield and a lifeline all at once.

“You tryna walk to me now, huh? Right before I gotta stand still the whole damn time?”

JJ drooled a bit and then grinned, patting Jey’s face. “Dadaaaaa.”

Jey closed his eyes, forehead against his son’s. “Alright. Lemme get my shit together.”

On the other side of the estate, it was quiet.

Soft classical music floated in the breeze, the aunties lighting sage and whispering blessings over Nadia as her final veil was pinned and her heels were adjusted.

She sat calmly, letting them fuss. Hands folded. Breathing steady.

“Are you nervous, baby?” one asked.

“No,” she answered, eyes on her reflection.

She looked like a dream carved from danger. The custom silk taffeta dress fit her like it was made by the gods themselves—liquid pearl against her skin. The slit up her leg carved all the way to the curve of her hip, lace delicately tracing the edge like temptation’s whisper. The open back dipped to the lowest part of her spine, her skin gleaming in the light.

A few loose coils of hair curled beside her cheek, the rest pulled into a rich, soft updo. A glint of light caught her mouth.

At the bottom row of her teeth—diamonds.

The word: wifey.

She smiled at herself. Calm. Powerful.

“He’s gon’ cry,” one of the aunties said softly.

“I know,” Nadia murmured, standing carefully.

As she made her way to the back of the aisle, her bouquet in hand, she exhaled once and whispered to herself:

“Time to break his damn soul.”

The doors opened. The crowd stood.

And Jey—

He looked up.

And broke. Silently. Completely.

Mouth parted, eyes glossed, chest tight, arms full with their son who cooed quietly at his mama like he recognized God’s favorite in front of him.

Nadia stepped forward.

One stride at a time.

No fear. Just power.

His fiancée. His woman. His ride or die.

But in a few more steps?

His wife.

Chapter 140 (Continued): “The Moment Before the Moment”

Jey had officially gone nonverbal.

The closer the ceremony got, the more his brain betrayed him. He couldn’t sit. Couldn’t drink. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t even speak without fumbling his words.

“This man is broken,” Sefa said, grinning as he watched his older brother pace the outdoor holding tent like a stressed-out lion. “Somebody get the groom a sedative before he faints and makes the highlight reel.”

“Shut up!” Jey snapped, yanking at his collar again for the fifth time in five minutes. “The collar too tight, the weather too humid, and I can’t feel my left hand.”

“Bro, it’s not the collar. That’s your blood pressure.”

Jimmy chuckled, laid back and cool with a toothpick in his mouth and a drink in his hand. “Why you actin’ like she gon’ run, Uso? That woman tricked you into seeing a fake dress. You think she not gon’ show up? She been plannin’ this hit job for months.”

“Exactly!” Jey’s voice hit a new octave. “She tricked me! This is a set-up. You don’t understand—she said the dress was ‘cute.’ Cute, bruh. Not fire. Not sexy. Just cute. That woman been curvy and evil since birth and she ‘cute’ in a wedding dress? I’m gon’ pass out.”

Jimmy and Sefa burst out laughing, but Jey was damn near pacing a hole into the grass. “Y’all think this funny? I’m serious! What if I cry? What if I ugly cry?”

“You will,” Jimmy confirmed.

“She gon’ eat that up,” Sefa added. “That’s wife material bait. Cry hard enough and she might hump your leg after the kiss.”

“Goddamn,” Jey muttered, dragging his hand down his face. “What if I get hard? My son’s right there!”

“Then he’ll know his dad’s in love,” Jimmy deadpanned. “And bricked.”

Jey groaned and nearly folded over. He was about to lie flat on the grass just to calm down when—

“DADA!”

All heads turned as a blur of wobbling legs and confidence came barreling across the lawn in a baby tux and sunglasses.

“JJ!” Jey dropped to a crouch and scooped his son into his arms just as the tiny Cuban link clinked against his chain. “My little man!”

JJ squealed and clapped, smacking Jey’s face as if to say pull it together, fool.

He kissed his son’s cheek, pressing their foreheads together. “You see what Mama do to me? I ain’t even seen her yet and I’m losin’ motor function.”

The music shifted.

Everyone froze.

The aunties began moving in their flowy silks. People were being ushered to the main chairs. The crowd murmured with rising excitement.

Then—the signal.

“Line up,” one of the uncles barked.

“Fix that crooked-ass boutonnière, you not gettin’ married in a JCPenney photo pose!”

“Why you sweatin’ through silk? You better not faint—if you fall, I ain’t pickin’ yo’ big ass up!”

The insults flew just as quickly as the support, and Jey, bouncing JJ slightly on his hip, tried to steady his breathing as he took his spot.

He couldn’t see her yet.

But he felt it.

Something was coming. No—she was coming.

And then the crowd stood.

The softest, most haunting arrangement of violins drifted out over the crowd.

The breeze lifted.

And the doors slowly opened.

For a second, no one moved.

And then she stepped out.

And the crowd gasped.

Jey forgot to breathe.

There was no poof, no veil, no princess ballgown.

Just pure, destructive finesse.

Nadia glided forward in that custom silk taffeta gown like sin dipped in honey. The slit rode her thigh up to the heavens, the lace catching the light like spiderwebs spun from gold. Her back was bare—bare, carved to the base of her spine like God herself sketched it in low light.

Her hair was curled and stacked in a big, elegant updo, with soft coils framing her face like a goddess risen out of heat.

And when she smiled?

The grill caught the light.

“Wifey.”

It flashed right there on her bottom row.

The diamonds winked. Jey staggered.

“I’M GONNA THROW UP,” he choked, handing JJ to Jimmy.

Jimmy was wheezing. “Breathe, dumbass!”

But it was too late.

She was already halfway down the aisle, eyes locked on him, walking like she knew exactly what kind of damage she was doing. Her red bottoms peeked out with every step, slit dancing, skin glowing, that damn grill flashing with every curl of her lips.

And Jey?

Jey was gone.

Mouth open. Knees buckled. Soul in a chokehold.

“This is it,” he whispered hoarsely, palms over his chest like he was pledging allegiance.

“My ass is officially hers.”

Chapter 141: “You Already Know”

Jey wasn’t blinking. Couldn’t.

Not when she got close enough for the slit in her gown to flirt with wind.

Not when those red bottoms glided like sin across silk-white petals.

And definitely not when Nadia cracked a full smile—diamond grill gleaming, lips plush and curved like she was walking into a championship, not a ceremony.

The music dipped lower as she neared the altar.

She stopped.

Grinned.

And the first thing she did?

Dapped up Jimmy.

A perfectly executed handshake, full of rhythm and attitude. The crowd erupted into laughter and claps.

Jimmy wiped an invisible tear. “Man, I love her,” he sniffled, only half-joking.

Then Nadia turned and caught Sefa by the collar.

“Ay—headlock!” she called, before yanking the baby brother down into her side, locking his big ol’ frame in a playful squeeze.

The family was crying laughing now. Sefa tapped out with dramatic flair, flailing. “I GOT ASTHMA!”

Someone yelled, “SHE THE GROOM NOW.”

She blew a kiss to the audience. “Just gotta make my rounds.”

And then…

She faced forward.

Turned her full attention to him.

And Jey?

He was damn near fetal.

Heart sprinting. Chest aching. Mouth dry.

This was not the “cute” dress she claimed. This wasn’t even legal. It was sculpted silk, sinful lace, and the face of a woman who knew she had him for life. The diamonds in her grill twinkled like they knew something he didn’t. Like they were winking for God himself.

“Hey, baby,” she whispered, standing just inches in front of him now.

Jey couldn’t respond.

He was just breathing in disbelief, eyes trailing from her face, to the way the slit curved over her hip, to that damn grin that said I got you now, big boy.

“You look…” He couldn’t finish. His voice cracked like puberty ran it back. “You look like heaven. Like hell. I don’t know. I think I blacked out.”

She giggled. “You bricked, huh?”

The groomsmen howled. Jimmy buckled at the knees.

Jey dragged a hand down his face. “Bruh.”

But then, the world got quiet again.

Just the two of them. Her smiling. Him speechless.

The audience settling. The music fading to a gentle hush.

He reached for her hands.

And even then, his fingers shook.

Because no matter how much chaos, how many jokes, or how hard he clowned every other second of his life—

This woman?

Had him chopped and screwed.

His voice finally came, raw and low. “You came back for me. For our son. You didn’t have to, and you still did. And I promise you, Nadia Carver, you walk down that aisle right now, you ain’t ever gonna walk alone again.”

Her lips parted, eyes soft now.

The grill still sparkled, but that wasn’t what hit hardest—it was the way her soul was shining through every inch of her.

She nodded.

“Good. ‘Cause you mine,” she whispered back. “Forever. Just remember that when I cuss you out mid-vow.”

And with that?

She stepped forward, slid her hand into his.

And the ceremony began.

Chapter 142: "Soft Spot"

Jey tried.

Tried to keep it together. To breathe steady. To look like the same stoic man the whole world knew—the lion-hearted, tatted-up wall of muscle who didn’t blink at chaos.

But Nadia?

Nadia Carver in silk taffeta, skin gleaming, smiling at him like the sun itself bowed to her?

Yeah.

He lost that battle fast.

His throat tightened before the officiant even said a word. A single blink too long and he caught the sway of her dress, the shimmer of diamonds in her bottom grill, the soft curl of hair teasing her face.

Then she squeezed his hand. Just once. Soft.

That was it.

That was the final straw.

His face crumpled.

Full lip-tremble. Brow folding. A watery sniff he tried—and failed—to hide.

“Aw hell,” Jimmy whispered behind him, already tearing up too. “This fool done broke.”

Jey tried to speak. Tried to say something smooth like, you look beautiful or I love you so bad it hurts, but all that came out was a cracked, “Damn…”

Voice hitched. Chest hitched harder. Tears spilled.

Nadia’s eyes widened, but her smile only grew. Soft. Warm. Familiar.

She didn’t tease—not yet. She leaned in instead, thumbs sweeping gently under his eyes to wipe his cheeks.

“Shhh,” she cooed, trying not to let her own voice crack. “You gon’ cry your whole beard off, baby.”

He huffed out a wet laugh, blinking fast, lips pressed tight.

“I just…” he choked, shaking his head. “I don’t even deserve you. I don’t. You look like God said let me flex on everybody real quick.”

Nadia laughed, trying not to. “Stop,” she whispered. “Don’t make me mess up my lashes, bruh.”

But her fingers lingered at his jaw. Her thumb pressed at the corner of his mouth. That was her soft spot—seeing him soft for her.

And he didn’t care who saw.

He leaned in, resting his forehead against hers, eyes shut tight as the tears kept falling. “You’re it for me. I love you so damn bad it hurts.”

“I know,” she whispered, closing her eyes too. “Now pull it together before JJ sees this video and starts roasting us both.”

Too late.

From the front row, their son—mini sunglasses still on, sitting in Jimmy’s lap—let out a loud happy babble like he approved of the whole show.

The guests melted into more laughter and claps.

And in the middle of it all, Jey kept crying—just less now. Because the only woman who could break him this cleanly…was the one who was about to be his wife.

Chapter 143: “Say Less”

The wind softened over the ocean.

Aunties were already fanning their eyes. Uncles were trying not to cry. JJ was clapping in someone’s lap, completely oblivious. Sefa had bet Jimmy that Jey would cry through the whole thing. Jimmy said he’d bet back—but he couldn’t afford to lose, not when he had been wiping tears since Nadia walked in.

But now?

Now it was time for the vows.

Jey exhaled a breath like he’d been holding it for a decade. His big hands trembled, the paper he swore he didn’t need suddenly being palmed like a lifeline. He cleared his throat.

“Uh…” He looked around, eyes shining. “So… y’all know I don’t really be talkin’ like that. I keep it in, always been better at showin’ up than talkin’ about what’s inside.”

A pause.

He looked at her.

“But you, Nadia Carver—you unlocked me.”

Murmurs. Sniffs. One of the aunties gasped.

“You showed up to my life bare-faced, barefoot, and mad as hell. First time I seen you, I thought, who this small-ass girl talkin’ like she got a whole army behind her? Then you pinned my uncle to a pool deck. In a bikini.”

Laughter rippled through the crowd.

Jey chuckled, too, eyes warm. “And I was done for. All the game I had? Canceled. You got in my blood before I could stop it. You been driving me crazy ever since.”

Nadia covered her mouth, already blinking fast.

Jey’s voice caught for just a moment.

“You been my chaos, my calm, my match, my mystery. You gave me a reason to change, to grow, to finally say I’m done running. And then you gave me our son—and I ain’t been right since. You made me a dad. You made me soft. And I don’t care who knows it. I love you more than I love air in my lungs.”

The guests let out a soft, damn in unison.

“I vow to keep choosing you every damn day. Even when you’re yelling at me in your bonnet, even when your feet cold and you put ‘em on me under the covers, even when you threaten to shank me in your sleep. I’m yours. For good. I vow to protect you, honor you, carry you—even if you hate being carried—and love every version of you from now ‘til they put me in the ground.”

The audience was DONE. Applause. Weeping. A couple aunties had to be fanned with towels now.

Nadia bit her lip and stepped forward, voice already shaking with a half-laugh. “Aight, bet. So… you wanna talk about first meetings?”

The crowd perked up again.

“I thought you were rude as hell. You stood in the corner not saying nothing, arms crossed, looking like security. And then you gave me this little smirk like you already knew I’d end up yours. I wanted to fight you on sight.”

Laughter.

“But then I saw how you handled your brother, how you took care of people, how you protected even the stuff you didn’t have words for. And I thought... Damn. I might’ve just met my match.”

She took a shaky breath. “You never once asked me to be smaller. You let me curse, cry, collapse, cook barefoot in a thong, and swing a wrench while pregnant—all while calling me ‘your queen.’”

Someone from the crowd yelled CHEEHOO, and Jimmy had to elbow them to keep it cute.

“You make me feel safe, even when the world’s on fire. You taught me trust. You gave me JJ. You gave me a home in your family. You brought me peace in the most chaotic way possible. And I vow to never let you forget just how lucky you are, big head.”

Laughter broke out again.

“But for real? I vow to stand with you, argue with you, grind with you, build with you, raise our son with you, and stunt on our haters in matching chains until the end of time.”

Even Sefa was biting his shirt now trying not to cry.

The officiant wiped their own eyes, sniffling. “So… do you, Joshua Fatu, take Nadia Carver to be your wife?”

“I do,” Jey said fast, like he’d been holding it in for hours.

“And do you, Nadia Carver, take Joshua Fatu to be your husband?”

“I do,” she whispered, voice cracking through a smile.

“That’s it, then. By the power vested in me—”

Jey didn’t wait.

He grabbed her, dipped her, and kissed her like it was a finale. The crowd exploded in cheers. JJ let out a squeal, giggling at his parents being loud and in love.

Nadia, still in Jey’s arms, breathless, laughed as he held her up, forehead pressed to hers.

“You so damn dramatic,” she whispered, grinning.

“You married me anyway,” he murmured, smile crooked and eyes wet.

“And I’d do it again.”

Chapter 144: “Reception Chaos, Fatu-Style”

If the wedding was a tearjerker, the reception was pure, beautiful chaos.

The sun had begun to dip below the ocean, casting a golden hue over the open-air beachside setup. Tables wrapped in crisp linen were decorated with bold tropical flowers, woven mats, and shining candles. An auntie had brought the good punch—the one with the unspoken warning label—and uncles were already halfway into roasting people on the mic before appetizers had even been served.

JJ was on ten. Crawling out of laps, tugging at his little tuxedo pants, his chubby baby chain swinging as he squealed at anyone who gave him attention—which was everyone. Sefa had hoisted him on his shoulders at one point and little man decided that was his new throne, smacking his tiny palm on Sefa’s head like a drum.

“I swear to God this baby thinks he owns us,” Jimmy said through a laugh, eyes wet from the last speech. “And he right.”

“Look at ‘im. He JJ Fatu the first,” one cousin chimed, “like he got a legacy to uphold already.”

The food was plentiful—plated in waves—and cooked with soul. Aunties swarmed every table making sure guests had seconds before they’d finished firsts. The dance floor was already flexing under the weight of wild cousins and a few uncles in lava lavas breakdancing to old-school hits.

But then the DJ cleared his throat.

“Ladies and gentlemen… time for the couple’s first dance.”

The crowd whooped. Cheehoos bounced off the walls. Cameras were up. Everyone turned to see Nadia, curls still perfect, barefoot now, holding the bottom of her wedding dress as she stepped forward with a mock-innocent smile. Her grill glinted—wifey spelled proud on her bottom teeth.

Jey was waiting in the center of the floor. Fresh white-on-white suit open just enough to flash his necklace, his eyes locked on hers like he was starving.

“C’mon then,” she whispered when she reached him.

“I’m serious,” he murmured, hand on the small of her back, the music swelling around them. “You so bad. I’m puttin’ baby number two in you tonight.”

Nadia snorted in laughter against his chest. “Bruh—what is wrong with you?” she hissed, swatting his arm.

“Look at you,” he whispered against her ear, the two of them swaying. “You smell good, you feel good… you marriednow. I’m unleashed.”

“I just got my abs back, bro!”

“I’ma give you a workout plan—me.”

She slapped his chest again mid-dance, still giggling.

The guests, watching them spin and laugh and whisper like high school sweethearts, melted on the spot. Some wiped tears. Some howled with laughter. Everyone felt it—that raw, real, ride-or-die love. The kind that survives car chases, heartbreaks, babies, dead bodies, and midnight cheehoos.

They finished their dance to thunderous applause and a cheer that sounded like a whole stadium went up.

Then came the toasts.

Jimmy got up first, mic in hand, slick grin already in place.

“Aight, I’ma keep it short,” he said, adjusting his chain. “Because we all know Jey ‘bout to leave early. On purpose.”

Laughter exploded.

“But I just gotta say, man… I never seen my brother smile the way he smiles at her. I knew it was over when he started sharing his food. That’s real love right there.”

Sefa stood next, holding JJ who’d stolen someone’s sunglasses. “I’ma make mine simple. Jey—you cry again tonight, I’m telling everybody.”

Another round of laughter.

“And Nadia… we all know you’re the best thing to ever happen to this whole family. You’re ours now, permanently. No take backs. JJ stamped it with his whole face.”

More laughter. More tears.

By the time the dance floor was open, everyone was on it. Aunties two-stepping barefoot. Uncles reliving 1984 with stiff knees and no shame. Cousins forming a whole soul train line that ended in a surprise Samoan haka tribute—with the women leading.

Somewhere near the end of the night, Jey found her again—alone for a second by the dessert table, sipping from a coconut.

He slid behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and kissed her shoulder.

“You good?” he asked low.

“Yeah.” She leaned into him, smile lazy, soft. “We really did it.”

“We been did it,” he grinned. “This just the party part.”

She twisted to face him. “You still talkin’ about putting a baby in me?”

“Oh absolutely.”

She laughed and raised her drink. “Cheers to your delusion.”

He leaned in, kissed her slow and deep. “Say less, Mrs. Fatu.”

Chapter 145: "Pimp Down! Pimp Down!"

The evening had wound down, but there was one last thing to handle before the honeymoon—the little man.

It was tradition, a joke among the uncles, but when it came time for Jey to finally drag his new wife out of the reception, his hands full with her kicking feet and her body over his shoulder, things were about to get chaotic.

Nadia’s voice rang out loud enough to echo through the emptying beachside venue. “Pimp down! Pimp down!” she yelled, her laughter mixing with frantic desperation. “Heeeeelllppppppp! He gone get me!”

Jey grinned from ear to ear, his muscular arms holding her tight as he walked toward the car. The excitement was palpable—his moment of ultimate victory after all the madness of the wedding day. But Nadia, ever the wildcard, was about to throw one last wrench in his smooth-sailing plans.

Her heels clacked and slipped against the pavement as she kicked her legs in the air, wiggling, trying to escape the man who was now dragging her toward their getaway car. “Jeyyyyyyyy—stop! You ain’t about to take me nowhere, not like this! I’mma fight you!”

“I’m taking my wife on our honeymoon, whether you like it or not,” Jey growled, his voice a mixture of affection and mock threat.

But just as they reached the car, the cavalry arrived. Jimmy and Sefa rounded the corner with their hands raised, eyes wide.

“Oh hell no,” Jimmy laughed, pointing at Jey. “What the hell did you do to her, man?”

Sefa grinned, his arms crossed. “Yo, Jey, you really taking her like that?” He wagged a finger. “What kinda honeymoon you tryna have, bro?”

Nadia was still flailing, twisting and turning, trying to get loose. “Help me, y’all! He is kidnappin’ me! I swear to God, I’m gonna kill him when we get back! I need my freedom!” She threw in a high-pitched dramatic groan for effect.

Jey, unable to stop laughing, finally threw open the door to the backseat of the car, settling her in. “Get in there, woman. The uncles got him.”

Jimmy shook his head. “Bro, you better make sure you don’t lose her at that hotel. We’ll be getting a call in a few hours, I bet.”

“Man, go on with that negative energy. She’s my wife now,” Jey said, zipping the door shut with a grin before leaning down to give Nadia a quick kiss. “I do what I want, Mrs. Fatu.”

“You ain’t slick,” Nadia muttered, but the smile on her face was all love, her voice a little breathless as she stared up at him. “You lucky I love you.”

“I’m lucky, huh?” Jey raised an eyebrow as he slid into the driver’s seat. “I know I’m lucky. But you lucky too, Queenpin.”

“Mmhm,” she grinned, relaxing as the car started rolling away, the bright lights of the beach and the laughter of her family fading into the background. “We'll see how lucky you feel after the real honeymoon activities.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m prepared for everything,” Jey smirked, his hand sneaking over to hers, giving it a squeeze.

As the car sped off into the night, the distant echoes of her uncles’ teasing and the shouts of her brothers echoed behind them. But for now, it was just Jey and Nadia—on their way to whatever wild adventures were next.

And she had a feeling, this wasn’t going to be the last time they’d be shouting “Pimp down!” when it came to their chaotic, beautiful love.