#coastline protection

[aanews69]

Dodáváme příběhy. Dáme vám také návody, tipy a triky, jak si vytvořit svůj vlastní.Tento kanál je věnován náhodným věcem, které se objevují na našich stolech.

[sysig]

Just Desserts continental northern map made using this method! :D (Patreon)

[tenth-sentence]

The land capable of cultivation, is scarcely in any part more than a fringe of low alluvial soil, accumulated round the base of the mountains, and protected from the waves of the sea by a coral reef, which encircles the entire line of coast.

"Journal of Researches into the Natural History and Geology of the Countries Visited During the Voyage of H.M.S. Beagle Round the World, 1832-36" - Charles Darwin

[reasonsforhope]

"Many people know about the Yellowstone wolf miracle. After wolves were reintroduced to the national park in the mid-1990s, streamside bushes that had been grazed to stubble by out-of-control elk populations started bouncing back. Streambank erosion decreased. Creatures such as songbirds that favor greenery along creeks returned. Nearby aspens flourished.

While there is debate about how much of this stemmed from the wolves shrinking the elk population and how much was a subtle shift in elk behavior, the overall change was dramatic. People were captivated by the idea that a single charismatic predator’s return could ripple through an entire ecosystem. The result was trumpeted in publications such as National Geographic.

But have you heard about the sea otters and the salt marshes? Probably not.

It turns out these sleek coastal mammals, hunted nearly to extinction for their plush pelts, can play a wolf-like role in rapidly disappearing salt marshes, according to new research. The findings highlight the transformative power of a top predator, and the potential ecosystem benefits from their return.

“It begs the question: In how many other ecosystems worldwide could the reintroduction of a former top predator yield similar benefits?” said Brian Silliman, a Duke University ecologist involved in the research.

The work focused on Elk Slough, a tidal estuary at the edge of California’s Monterey Bay. The salt marsh lining the slough’s banks has been shrinking for decades. Between 1956 and 2003, the area lost 50% of its salt marshes.

Such tidal marshes are critical to keeping shorelines from eroding into the sea, and they are in decline around the world. The damage is often blamed on a combination of human’s altering coastal water flows, rising seas and nutrient pollution that weakens the roots of marsh plants.

But in Elk Slough, a return of sea otters hinted that their earlier disappearance might have been a factor as well. As many as 300,000 sea otters once swam in the coastal waters of western North America, from Baja California north to the Aleutian Islands. But a fur trade begun by Europeans in the 1700s nearly wiped out the animals, reducing their numbers to just a few thousand by the early 1900s. Southern sea otters, which lived on the California coast, were thought to be extinct until a handful were found in the early 1900s.

In the late 1900s, conservation organizations and government agencies embarked on an effort to revive the southern sea otters, which remain protected under the Endangered Species Act. In Monterey Bay, the Monterey Bay Aquarium selected Elk Slough as a prime place to release orphaned young sea otters taken in by the aquarium.

As the otter numbers grew, the dynamics within the salt marsh changed. Between 2008 and 2018, erosion of tidal creeks in the estuary fell by around 70% as otter numbers recovered from just 11 animals to nearly 120 following a population crash tied to an intense El Niño climate cycle.

While suggestive, those results are hardly bulletproof evidence of a link between otters and erosion. Nor does it explain how that might work.

To get a more detailed picture, the researchers visited 5 small tidal creeks feeding into the main slough. At each one, they enclosed some of the marsh with fencing to keep out otters, while other spots were left open. Over three years, they monitored the diverging fates of the different patches.

The results showed that otter presence made a dramatic difference in the condition of the marsh. They also helped illuminate why this was happening. It comes down to the otters’ appetite for small burrowing crabs that live in the marsh.

Adult otters need to eat around 25% of their body weight every day to endure the cold Pacific Ocean waters, the equivalent of 20 to 25 pounds. And crabs are one of their favorite meals. After three years, crab densities were 68% higher in fenced areas beyond the reach of otters. The number of crab burrows was also higher. At the same time, marsh grasses inside the fences fared worse, with 48% less mass of leaves and stems and 15% less root mass, a critical feature for capturing sediment that could otherwise wash away, the scientists reported in late January in Nature.

The results point to the crabs as a culprit in the decline of the marshes, as they excavate their holes and feed on the plant roots. It also shows the returning otters’ potential as a marsh savior, even in the face of rising sea levels and continued pollution. In tidal creeks with high numbers of otters, creek erosion was just 5 centimeters per year, 69% lower than in creeks with fewer otters and a far cry from earlier erosion of as much as 30 centimeters per year.  

“The return of the sea otters didn’t reverse the losses, but it did slow them to a point that these systems could restabilize despite all the other pressures they are subject to,” said Brent Hughes, a biology professor at Sonoma State University and former postdoctoral researcher in Silliman’s Duke lab.

The findings raise the question of whether other coastal ecosystems might benefit from a return of top predators. The scientists note that a number of these places were once filled with such toothy creatures as bears, crocodiles, sharks, wolves, lions and dolphins. Sea otters are still largely absent along much of the West Coast.

As people wrestle to hold back the seas and revive their ailing coasts, a predator revival could offer relatively cheap and effective assistance. “It would cost millions of dollars for humans to rebuild these creek banks and restore these marshes,” Silliman said of Elk Slough. “The sea otters are stabilizing them for free in exchange for an all-you-can-eat crab feast.”"

-via Anthropocene Magazine, February 7, 2024

[perlelune]

All Too Well | Rafe Cameron

A tragedy in your family forces you to return to the one place you fled from years ago. Your hometown of Outer Banks.

Warnings: NON-CON, Mom Reader, Pogue! Reader, Mentions of Abuse, Blackmail, Threats, Child Abduction, Gun Use

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

You sigh as you pass the familiar town sign. Welcome to the Outer Banks. Paradise on earth.

Right, paradise on earth. Until it became hell for you.

You let your gaze wander across the coastline, soaking in the crashing waves and glittering sand. The fresh sea breeze whisks inside the car, its soft, familiar flutter over your face bringing bittersweet memories alongside it. As you take in your surroundings, you’re struck with the realization of how little has changed over the years. Same houses. Same trees. And perhaps, you ponder wistfully, even the same people…

A mix of confusing emotion flows through you at that prospect.

Most of your life was spent here, precious memories having taken place on that very beach you just passed. Lazy days hanging out with your friends, doing whatever it is you wished. Hanging out, goofing off, getting high and enjoying endless summers.

Before mesmerizing blue eyes found yours at a beach party. It’s when your downward spiral began. How sweetly things started. How sourly they turned.

You can still feel the ghost sensation of his fingers around your neck, pressing until you could hardly breathe. Yet another fit of anger. Brushed off like so many until you couldn’t bear it anymore.

Eventually you grew tired of the whirlwind of emotions, of how he always had an excuse, some sort of twisted justification for his horrible actions. How somehow nothing was ever his fault. But yours. Always yours.

And once you found out that you had more than your own well-being to worry about…the decision was made for you. Of course, you needed to run like hell and never look back. It wasn’t just about you anymore. You had someone else to protect, from his mood swings and temper, but most importantly…from becoming just like him.

A heavy breath drops from your mouth as you clutch the steering wheel. The unpleasant flashes are chased away with a sharp shake of your head. You steady your rising pulse. You promised yourself not to not sink into that hole again. That hopeless, desolate place where you’re trapped in the dark and no one can hear you screaming. You’re stronger now. He can’t hurt you anymore.

This was four years ago. All that stuff is in the past. Buried and forgotten. Thankfully.

Your son’s hitch-pitched voice tugs your focus from the backseat.

“Can we go to the beach, mom?” he says, bouncing in excitement. “Please, please, please.”

You swipe a glimpse of him in the rearview mirror. Here he is. Your entire life, on the cusp of throwing a tantrum in the backseat of your car. Your three year-old son, Parker.

Your focus shifts back to the road.

“We have to go visit some friends first, sweetie.”

“Okay…” he pouts dejectedly.

“Once we’re settled in, we can go.”

He beams at that. A smile creeps upon your lips. While raising Parker on your own has been a challenge, you wouldn't change a thing. Seeing his bright, gummy smile everyday makes it all worth it.

You make a few more turns before finally reaching your destination. You soak in the striking sight of the house as you climb out of your car. It’s a lot bigger and nicer than the ones surrounding it, an uncanny sight in the Cut. It still surprises you that JJ didn’t move to Figure Eight. With his flourishing boat renting business, he can basically do anything he wants now. And you know he’d likely get a kick out of pissing off the 

Kooks by moving to their side of the island. So you’re a bit shocked that he chose to keep roots there. 

You suppose, in the end, he will always be a Pogue at heart. 

You pick up your son from the back seat. A yawn escapes from his mouth before he wraps his arms around your neck and begins to doze off. You can’t blame him. This was his longest trip since he was born. He clings to you as you make your way to the front door. 

The door opens, a familiar blond welcoming you with a bright smile.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” he drawls. 

“Are you sure it’s okay if we stay? We can go to a motel.”

JJ huffs his disapproval before ushering you inside. 

“Nonsense. Why stay in a motel when we have plenty of room here?”

Your eyes dart about the place. It’s clean and though the decor screams ‘bachelor’, homey vibes ooze from the space. Memorabilia from JJ’s travels are littered across the shelves as well as pictures of him and the Pogues beneath his surfing board. Melancholy hits you again. You’ve missed so much.

You shoot him a teasing grin.

“Plenty of room, huh? Sounds like someone’s gone full Kook.”

JJ rolls his eyes at your playful taunt. “Do you have any bags?” he asks.

“In the trunk,” you reply, handing him your keys. “I didn’t pack much since we won’t be staying long.”

He takes your keys, concern flashing in his blue eyes. “Which I still don’t get. I could kick his ass for you, so you don’t have to leave again.”

“It’s fine, JJ. Parker and I have a great life in Florida. I just got promoted. I’m saving up so we can move to a bigger place in a few months. Things are good. Really good.”

“I still think you should be here with us.” You supply no answer as he strolls to your car to get your things. You know JJ would tussle with him if you let him, has tried to in the past. He’s your best friend and has always been overly protective of you. It’s exactly why you need to leave once everything is handled. You refuse to let him get tangled up in your mess. It was never his to fix. 

You pad further inside JJ’s home. Astonishment flutters through you as you find another familiar face by the kitchen counter. 

Her long blonde mane swings at her back as she rushes to you. 

“Is that my nephew?” she whispers in an attempt not to wake up your toddler.

“Sarah,” you greet cheerfully.

She bends to get a better look at him. Her expression lights up.

“He’s gotten so big since the last time.”

The sound of Sarah’s voice tears Parker from his slumber.

He rubs his eyes, a broad grin appearing on his little face when he recognizes her.

“Auntie Sarah…”

“Hey buddy,” she chimes.

He jumps into her arms and the two of them giggle as she hugs him.

“I wish I could visit more often,” she says.

You nod in agreement. Sarah used to visit the two of you in Florida on a semi-regular basis, but she had to stop once a certain somebody became a bit too curious about the impromptu trips she was taking several times a year.

“Me too, but we both know it’s not possible.”

The two of you share a knowing look.

JJ reappears with your two bags in his hands.

“Shall I show you and your offspring to your chambers, m’lady?” he says, mimicking a horrible British accent. 

You shake your head at his antics. Though you’d never admit it aloud, you kind of missed them. A lot.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” 

He flashes you a broad grin.

“Hm, I think the word you’re looking for is wickedly handsome.”

“That is more than one word,” you deadpan.

He shrugs. “Just handsome then.”

You sigh as you follow him upstairs. Pleasant surprise courses through you at what you witness when he opens the door to the guest room. 

The interior is warm and welcoming. The blankets have rockets, moons and stars on them. There’s even a nightlight and a few toys lying in a corner. It’s a lot more than you expected and a swell of emotions mounts inside you at the sight. 

“You just had to go overboard, huh?”

His shoulders heave and fall in nonchalance.

“Only the best for my best girl.”

You plop down on the bed, drinking in the animal paintings on the walls. 

“Did you paint that yourself?”

He sits next to you, leaning back in a relaxed stance.

“I did. Mostly. Though Sarah, Kie and the others insisted on helping.”

“You know we’re not staying.”

He studies you, a small smile tugging his lips.

“A guy can hope.” JJ licks his lips, fingers dragging over the colorful blanket. “I just want you to know you have a home here if you ever decide to come back.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

Blue eyes lock with yours, silence stretching between the two of you before he speaks again. 

“I really missed you.”

“Me too,” you say. “Are you and Kie still…?”

“We broke it off a few years ago.”

Your eyes round. They seemed so into each other at the time. Though you surmise, people can change over the years. You aren’t teenagers anymore after all.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. We’re better off as friends,” he states casually. He holds your gaze and smiles. “Some things just aren’t meant to be.”

“Alright Master Yoda, when did you get so wise?” you quip.

He joins his hands, his expression solemn.

“A stupid kid, I am not anymore.” You laugh and his smile widens. “Believe it or not.” He pauses, appearing lost in thought. He then offers, “You should come to the Bonfire celebration tonight.”

“I don’t know…”

Your brows knit. You returned out of necessity. Hanging out isn’t exactly at the top of your list of priorities. 

JJ gives your shoulder a light shove.

“Come on. It’s at the Boneyard, just like old times.” His expression turns serious. “Everyone’s really missed you. It’s not the same without you around.”

He gets to his feet. Your stomach knots when he retrieves an urn from under the night table and hands it to you.

Your chest tightens.

“Are those her…”

“Yeah. Her last wish was to be at sea. Maybe you could do it tonight?”

Your fingers press firmly around the curved edges of the urn, tears welling up in your eyes.

“I should have been there, JJ,” you mumble.

“It’s not your fault.”

“But if I-”

“No, you can’t blame yourself for every little thing. I won’t let you.” Noting your trembling fingers, he takes the urn from you, placing it over the night table. He cradles your face and wipes the tears spilling down your face. “She knows how much you loved her. That's all that matters.” He wraps his arms around you and you sink into his embrace, soaking his familiar sea-salt smell. It’s somehow barely changed since you last saw him. “It was an accident. No one could have done anything. Especially not you.”

You sniffle, swallowing a fresh surge of tears. You may not have been close to your sister, but you still resent that you couldn’t be together before she passed. She barely got to know her own nephew. 

She deserved a lot more from you. A lot more that you weren’t able to give, which you hate yourself for.

You just couldn’t risk it. Not when one look at him would suffice for most people to guess who Parker’s father is. Starting with those piercing blue eyes. The same as his father’s. 

Accidents are accidents. But you can’t help but wonder if being with her would have made a difference. No one even really knows what happened. Just that she was in her house - you parents’ house - and fell. Then she stopped breathing. By the time she was rushed to the hospital it was too late.

Your sister was gone. Ally is gone.

A harsh truth your mind is still wrangling with.

“I don’t know if I can come. Parker’s still so small-”

“I’ll watch him.”

Your head snaps up. You find Sarah in the doorway, your son in her arms. As soon as he enters the room, the little boy gets excited. He starts running around and grabs a toy from the pile to play with.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

“Are you kidding?” Sarah exclaims. Her gaze softens as she looks at your son. “I missed the little guy so much. We’ll have a ton of fun.”

You peer at Parker. He’s found a dinosaur and a soldier and decided to have the two apparently fight in space. You have to admit, JJ’s house is much more kid-friendly than you expected. Perhaps, you can probably release him into his aunt’s care for a few hours. You have no desire to turn into one of those helicopter moms who need their children under perpetual supervision. Parker too, may benefit from some time with Sarah. He never gets to see her after all.

“Well, I guess if you don’t mind,” you say. 

Sarah perks up at your response. 

“See? Everything’s sorted out,” JJ says brightly.

The moment they see you, Kie, John B and Pope hurtle a ceaseless string of questions your way. Your life in Florida. Your job. Your dating life. The weather. How the beaches are there. No inquiry’s off-limits, too strange or personal. They constantly speak over each other, their excitement at seeing you again clear as day. You try to answer everything in between your laughs. JJ was right. It’s good that you came. 

You needed to see them. It doesn’t hit you until you listen to Kie’s bubbly, passionate rant about the foundation she created to clean up the ocean floors. You missed the Pogues. Deeply. You were so absorbed in being a mom that you never took the time to ponder that loss. 

“Guys, you have to give her time to actually answer,” Sarah jests. 

“It’s okay,” you say, waving your hand in nonchalance. Your handle on the urn between your arms tightens. “There’s something I need to do anyway.”

Quiet falls over the group, their lively chatter instantly dying. You see it in the Pogues’ eyes. All your friends are acutely aware how it guts you to do this. 

Kie takes a step forward. She hasn’t changed a bit. Brown curls cascade at her back. Her pretty face is scrunched in concern. 

“Do you want me to come with you?”

You shake your head. This isn’t something the Pogues can help you with. You glance at JJ who stands a few feet behind her. His expression mirrors hers. You’ve used him as a crutch enough times. Too many times. 

You give a tremulous smile.

“No I…I need to do it alone.”

She nods as you stroll towards the rolling waves. Your slow steps trail prints into the sand as you soak in the flaming sun spilling over the horizon. Diamonds sparkle above the mesmerizing water, lights dancing over the infinite stretch of blue. 

You open the urn. Water licks your toes as you move forward. 

As you watch her ashes swirl to the bottom of the ocean, a strange emptiness fills your chest. None of it feels right. She should be here laughing. Or doing something stupid with the Pogues. Doing stupid shit was her specialty. 

Her sunny smile flickers in your mind. 

You don’t notice the tears until their salty taste slips past your lips. You quickly wipe them as soon as you do. You can’t let Parker see you cry. He would ask why, in that sweet little voice of his. “Why are you crying, mommy?”

And you’d be stumped, incapable of producing a suitable answer for him. 

“Princess?”

You freeze. The deep voice feels snatched right out of your worst nightmares. You turn slowly, denial still keeping you mute. 

Your heart drops. 

It really is him, you realize, dumbfounded. He looks the same as the last time you saw him, dizzyingly tall and wickedly handsome in khaki shorts and a seersucker buttondown. A very Kook getup. Not that you’d expect anything less from Rafe Cameron. 

He chuckles at your reaction.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” His smile widens. You feel sick. He points at his chest. “Shit, am I…the ghost?”

Ignoring the rising tide of panic overflowing your insides, you brush past him. 

He follows you, his long legs easily keeping up with your hasty strides. 

“I was gonna offer my condolences but…Really? You don’t even say ‘hi’ anymore?”

“Hi, Rafe.”

Your stomps are halted when he stands in your path.

He bends so the two of you are at eye level. Your breath catches beneath his stare. You somehow forgot. How blue his eyes are. And something else strikes you as you look at him. 

Those are your son’s eyes. 

“There. Did you lose your manners in…Where do you live now anyways?” He snorts but there isn’t a hint of mirth in his tone. “It’s not like I’d know since you changed your number on me.”

Your stomach flips. “It’s good to see you, Rafe. But I was just leaving.”

When you try to get past him again, he grabs your arm to keep you from leaving. 

“Wait, wait, wait. Why the cold shoulder? After all these years…this is what I get from you, princess?”

A lump forms in your throat. 

“Let go of me, Rafe,” you say. 

You try to shake out of his grasp but his grip on you tightens. 

He gets in your face, his gaze narrowing. 

“I haven’t seen you in four years. And this is how you treat me? W-What did I do to deserve that?” You turn your head, tears gathering in your eyes. His fingers latch around your jaw, digging painfully into your cheeks. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Someone pulls you back from Rafe, sliding between the two of you. 

You gasp as you stumble back. 

“Leave her alone, Rafe,” JJ grits out, standing in front of you protectively. 

A derisive snicker bursts through Rafe’s lips. He glares up and down at your friend, disdain burning in his eyes.

“Still hanging out with those Pogues, I see.” He laughs as JJ crowds his space, his jaw clenching. “You tryin’ to get into something, Maybank?”

“Maybe I am,” JJ replies.

One could cut a knife through the thick layer of tension coating the air between the two men.

You wedge yourself between them. None of them looks away from the other, a nonverbal duel still occurring right before your eyes. 

You heave out a long sigh.

“Guys. We aren’t kids anymore. That’s enough,” you say. You unleash an annoyed sigh when they don’t move and grab JJ’s hand. “JJ, let’s go.”

“Still her little puppy dog, I see,” Rafe sneers. “Too bad she never gave you any treats like you wanted, huh Maybank?”

He blows JJ a mocking kiss, wiggling his fingers and openly taunting him. 

Sensing his urge to pounce on Rafe when he tenses near you, you tug JJ further away. 

“He’s not worth it,” you whisper.

“Good night, princess. I guess I’ll see you around,” Rafe yells from afar. 

“No, you won’t,” you respond, shooting daggers at him with your eyes. “Goodbye, Rafe.”

The events of the evening leave you rattled. For the entire night, you toss and turn in bed, the sound of Rafe’s voice, even deeper after all these years, invading your every thought. You thought you were safe. Freed. But frankly, one look from him had you feeling weak. Defenseless. It yanked you right back to four years ago. Back when you still hung to his every word and thought he held the moon. When you thought that, perhaps, Rafe Cameron was just misunderstood. And you, the only one capable of solving the riddle he offered. You truly were a naive teenager then. 

Guys like Rafe never change. It took you entirely too long to accept that fact. You'll never make such a mistake ever again.

In the morning, JJ leaves to run some errands, leaving you alone with Parker. You plant a kiss atop his head and stroke his blond curls. His tiny fists are curled against the pillow, his lids twitching while he lightly snores. It soothes you, the sight of him soundly sleeping. He’s innocent and happy. You would do anything to keep him that way for as long as possible.

You climb out of bed and make your way downstairs. You get started on breakfast for your son, mashing ripe bananas and oats as you follow along a tutorial online. It’s where you learnt everything when it came to caring for Parker. The internet has been a life-saver in more ways than one. 

You pause your whisking when the doorbell chimes. 

Your brows knit. You’re not expecting anyone. Neither is JJ. A delivery, perhaps? But he didn’t say there would be one today.

You flinch as the sound erupts again. 

Your heart starts to race. Something isn’t right. You can feel it. 

At first, you elect to ignore whoever’s on the other side. You’re alone with your son. You won’t let some stranger who can’t catch a hint inside the house.

But it doesn’t matter. 

The bell rings again. You’re paralyzed. You take tremulous steps to the entrance. Whoever it is, you plan on telling them to kick rocks. You suck in a wide lungful and nudge the door open by a tiny crack. Your eyes fly open in shock at who’s on the doorstep.

Immediately, you try to slam the door closed. He doesn’t let you, placing his foot against the doorjamb as his large hand curls around the wooden edge of the door to keep it open. Fear seizes your throat as he looms over you.

“Rafe? What are you doing here?” you say, trying your best to quell the tremor in your voice. 

He licks his lips and drinks you in.

“Well, we didn't get to finish our talk last night-”

Of course, this is the moment your son chooses to groggily drag his feet down the stairs. 

“Mommy, I’m hungry…” he complains while rubbing his face. 

Your heart drops to your feet. 

Rafe’s eyes grow wide. For a minute, he’s too stunned to utter a word, a million thoughts seeming to go through his mind. You use his surprise to nudge him outside. He doesn’t resist, shock still written on his handsome face. 

You close the door and slump against the wood. 

“Who’s that?” Rafe blurts out once he finds his ability to speak again. He’s pointing at the door as his breaths grow heavier. It doesn’t matter that your son is now out of view. Some doors can never be shut again once they’ve been opened. This is one of them.

Your shoulders heave and fall in feigned nonchalance.

“Nobody.”

His jaw clenches. “Don’t fuck with me, okay?”

You nod and show him the front yard.

“Let’s talk over there.”

He won’t let it go. Just like he never did with anything when you were together. You watch him pace across the yard as he grips his head. It almost seems like you’re not here, a spiral of emotions clearly sucking him in. You stand back warily. You remember those spirals, how destructive they could turn. 

“Fuck, Fuck…” he mumbles under his breath. He takes a deep breath and whirls to you. “You know what I’m gonna ask.”

You cross your arms, pulling the cardigan closer to your shivering frame.

“Rafe. I need you to calm down…”

He slaps your hand away when you try to touch his arm. 

“No you…Y-You don’t get to tell me to calm down, okay? Because it’s fucked. Fucked.” You jump as he gets louder, uncaring about anyone hearing him.  “How old is he? Three? Four? Is he my-”

“His father’s in Florida,” you blurt out. As soon as the words roll off your tongue, you curse inwards, your mistake dawning on you. Why did you say Florida instead of some other random state like Missouri or Massachusetts? You’re gonna have to move. Again.

Rafe’s jaw flexes before a chuckle of disbelief leaves him. 

“Really? You expect me to believe this load of crap? That kid in there looks just like me.”

“It was a one-night stand.”

He squints at you.

“I know you. You don’t do one-night stands. You’re not that kind of girl.”

“Well maybe you don’t know me as well as you think. Maybe I’ve changed.”

That mere suggestion seems to have his blood boiling. 

“I want a paternity test.”

Your stomach plummets.

“No.”

He gives a slow nod, a smirk blooming on his lips.

“Then I’ll court-order it, sue you for custody and make sure you never see our son again.” 

A chill creeps up your spine. Your voice quakes with fear.

“You wouldn’t.”

His face breaks out into a broad grin. 

“Try me, princess.”

You look at him. Really look at him. A determination is etched in his steely glare. One you haven’t seen in years. Not since he relentlessly pursued you until you yielded to his advances. It flattered you then. It terrifies you now.

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” he announces. “And don’t try to run away from me again, you understand? You won’t like what happens if you do.”

Your throat goes dry. When you don’t answer, Rafe’s hand shoots up and latches around your throat.

You whimper as he seethes, “Do you understand?”

“I-I understand, Rafe,” you stutter, your body shaking in his grasp.

He pats your cheek, seemingly satisfied. 

“Good. See you tomorrow, princess.”

Even as he releases you, your chest is tight with dread.

He starts walking to his Jeep. You remain glued to your spot, feeling as if a hole just opened in the ground and you were being swallowed in its depths. 

Rafe’s gaze rakes across your shuddering frame as he starts his car.

He bends over the window and smirks.

 “Oh by the way, you still look good…Didn’t get to say that last night,” he tosses flirtatiously before driving away. 

When night comes, JJ scowls at you while you’re frantically packing. Since he came back, he has tried to convince you to stay. 

But your mind is made up. You refuse to wait for him to have the confirmation he needs to force his way into your life again. You know exactly what the test will say. There’s been no guy other than Rafe. No one before or after.

He left you so bruised, so riddled with wounds that never closed, that you never opened your heart to anyone else again. And definitely not your legs. 

“You should have called me when it happened,” JJ says.

“Call you for what? So the two of you can swing on each other?”

You glance at your son, napping across the large bed. He has no idea what’s going on. No idea his father was here just a few hours ago. A silver lining amidst the dusky clouds threatening to rain hell upon your life. A life you cherish. A life you worked so hard to build. 

A life you just lost. Coming back here was a mistake. You knew it from the beginning. Had that sinking feeling all along. But you were so chock full of guilt about your sister that you didn’t have it in you not to fulfill her last wish. She deserved that at least.

…And now, you’re fucked.

“This doesn’t change anything. We can’t stay.”

“But…”

You whip your head up and whisper to not wake Parker.

“It’s his kid. You know how much sway he has now. How much he could fuck up our lives. Not just mine. But everyone else’s…including you, JJ.”

Annoyance flares in his eyes. You can tell he doesn’t like to be reminded of that. 

“But you don’t have to do this alone. I can-”

You clutch his arm and shake your head.

“No, I already involved you enough. If we go now, he won’t be able to find us, ever again. I’ll make sure of it.”

His frown accentuates. Unsaid words crowd the air. You feel their weight in his silence. Still, none leave his mouth. He heaves out a deep resigned breath instead.

“Just text me when you’ve crossed state lines, okay?”

“Of course. Tell Sarah and the Pogues I’m sorry. I’ll call her once Parker and I are safe.”

He wraps his arms around you. You sink into the embrace, committing that comforting warmth to memory. 

“I can’t believe you’re already leaving,” he says. 

You swallow the onset of tears tickling the back of your eyes. 

“Yeah…Me too.”

When you’re slinking down the road in your hatchback as stars twinkle above you, you genuinely believe you are out of trouble. You didn’t even wake Parker, just lifted him from bed and gingerly placed him in the backseat. Heavy sleeper as he is, your son did not stir. You believe the two of you are safe, sound and on your way back to Florida. That for once, you bested him. All's well that ends well, as they say.

But perhaps you escaped the frying pan to jump right into a blazing inferno. 

It is what occurs to you as you’re hailed by a cop car on your way out of town. The moment you get a glimpse of the sirens, the blood drains from your head. You can never catch a break, it seems. At first, you ponder if you should ignore it, keep on driving. You almost do it. But as the vehicle cuts right across your path, you’re left with no other option. Your nerves flare at the sight of the blue and red lights glaring in the pitch blackness, illuminating the large trees flanking the road.

As Officer Shoupe steps outside the car, your gut wrenches. He chased you and your friends across the island so many times when you were a teenager. You weren’t the most fond of him back then. Now you’re downright on the verge of soiling your car seat as he takes long, threatening strides towards your car.

He knocks on your window. You sigh and lower the glass. You place a hand in front of your face as he blinds you with his flashlight.

“Ma’am. Get out of the car,” he orders.

“I don’t understand. I wasn’t speeding-”

His hand ghosts over the holster of his gun. Your pulse quickens. The clear threat hangs in the night air, stifling your breath.

“I won’t say it again. Get out.”

You take shaky steps outside of the car, raising your hands the entire time. Your son’s in the backseat. You find yourself praying, hoping that he doesn’t wake up and see you like this.

Unspilled tears collect in your eyes.

As he speaks into his walkie-talkie, your heart stops. 

“I’ve got her, sir. You were right. She was trying to leave.”

It doesn’t even surprise you when you see a familiar Jeep arrive on the scene some time later. Of course it was all him. Of course he anticipated you running away, again.

A surge of queasiness mounts within you as his towering frame leaps out of the drivers’ seat and he stomps in your direction. You feel the bear trap closing in on you, the claws sinking deep. Inescapable.

He opens the door where your son is having an oblivious nap and barks at you, “Get Parker and come with me.”

When you refuse to move, he seizes the back of your neck and slams your face against your car window. You squeak as the coolness of the glass seeps into your cheek.

“I said…Get him,” he hisses, pressing something cold against the base of your spine. You go still. You never had one pointed at you before but you’re fairly sure you know what object is kissing your back right now.

As the muffled metallic click of the weapon ripples through the night, a stray tear skips down your cheek.

A gun. Rafe has a fucking gun. Disbelief floods your chest.

Not even your worst nightmares could you have conjured something this sick and evil.

His lips drag along your earshell as you sob. “Get our son,” he articulates. “I won’t repeat myself, princess.” As soon as he allows you some space, you rush to pick up your son from the backseat. He’s thankfully still asleep. You adjust him in your arms as you gulp down a sob, reluctantly making your way to Rafe’s Jeep. He instructs you to put him in the backseat. He then nudges the gun against your hip, quietly heeding you to climb into the passenger seat of his car. 

Your heart shrivels inside your chest as he hops into the car too and slams the door shut.

“All these years and you still haven’t learnt to listen,” he scoffs, irritation bleeding through his tone. His wrath is palpable. Sizzling, red, hot fury you feel all the way to your bones.

He hates you. Who knows what he’ll do if you provoke him any further?

Terror makes your voice slip out hoarse, hardly more than a whisper.

“W-Where are you taking us Rafe?”

The gun - the goddamn gun - is still in his hand as he pinches the bridge of his nose and slaps the steering wheel. 

“I should kill you for this, you know?” he hisses, turning the key in the ignition with his other hand. The engine revs as he turns the car around. He dives onto the road. Any fickle hope you harbored dwindles into the night. 

You lick your dry lips.

“Rafe,” you try again.

His eyes flare dangerously, the gun twitching in his hand.

“Don’t interrupt me when I’m speaking.” A mirthless chuckle bursts through his lips. “S-So what now? You take my son from me, for four fucking years…and I’m the bad guy? I-It’s somehow my fault?”

You swallow past the thick lump in your throat. Tears flow down your face as shaky words bounce off your tongue. “You scared me, Rafe…sometimes.” You glance at the gun and sniffle. “You’re scaring me now. Please just…p-put away the gun.”

He slams his hand into the steering wheel as you gasp.

“Don’t fucking try telling me what to do,” he warns. He draws a long inhale, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opens them again, there’s a peculiar determination burning in his gaze. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna drop off our son.” The corners of his lips curl upward. “Then Mommy and Daddy are gonna go home and have a little grown-up talk.”

A chill shoots through you.

“Rafe, please. Don’t do this. I’m sorry. O-Okay, I admit it. I lied. But please, don’t-”

“Shut up!” he roars, causing you to fall quiet. “You’ve lied to me enough. I don’t want to hear another word coming out of your lying whore mouth until we get home.”

The commotion nudges your son awake.

“Mommy…”

Your nerves thrum in panic. You bend over the backseat and cradle his face, slotting a false smile onto your lips. “Go back to sleep, sweetie,” you urge. 

“Yes, Parker, go back to sleep,” Rafe repeats, his tone veering on sarcastic. 

“Who’s that, mommy?” your toddler inquires, tilting his head.

“Just go back to sleep,” you say, singing a tremulous lullaby to lull him back into slumber. Relief sits inside your chest when his eyes close.

He makes a first stop at his friends’ house. Your heart is ripped outside your chest as you watch Rafe’s friend - Topper or something you believe his name is - take your son away. They exchange words in the dark as you gawk in horror. You only have vague memories of Topper and now he has your son. A scream scalds the back of your throat, one you’re too terrified to let loose.

When Rafe returns inside the car, he is eerily quiet. You nearly find yourself wishing he’d talk, even if it’s to yell at you again. The silence is so unlike him, so profoundly unnerving.

But not another word escapes the confines of his tight lips as he drives.

Tannyhill comes into view and your heart sinks.

The persistent threat of the gun is the only reason you follow him inside. Whenever you drag your feet, he shoves the barrel into your back even more, reminding you what you’re risking if you don’t do as he says. You’re a sobbing, weeping mess by the time you’re in the Camerons’ lobby.

He places the gun on a nearby table and removes his belt.

“So, w-what was the plan exactly? Did you plan on never telling me?” You tense as he loops the belt around his knuckles, prowling forward. 

The golden ring on his finger glints in the low light of the lobby. 

“Did you plan on having that Pogue raise my son?”

“I…”

A sinister smile spreads over his face.

“You know what? I think we’ve been apart too long. I think I gotta remind you who the fuck I am, princess.” Your blood curdles at his words. You dart across the lobby but Rafe catches you, hauling you off the ground before slamming your body across the marble tiles without ceremony. Pain explodes through your limbs. He drags your limp frame to the railings. Your insides lurch as you feel leather bite into your flesh when he ties the belt around your wrists. He attaches the belt to the railings, restricting your arms’ range of motion.

Helplessness skyrockets inside you. A fresh wave of tears rolls down your cheeks.

“Rafe, please…”

Rafe pulls his zipper down. Impatience grunts leave him as he wriggles out of his pants and boxers, freeing his already rock-hard cock. He yanks your shorts and panties down until the bottom of your body is completely bare to him. 

His pupils swell at the sight of your bare cunt, leaving only a thin ring of blue in his dark gaze. 

He lines himself with your entrance, pressing his wet tip against your dry lips. He breaches past the tight ring of muscles as you stiffen. An immediate burst of pain scatters through you. Tears dot your lashes as heavy breaths rush from your chest. 

It’s clear it’s taking tremendous effort for Rafe to force himself inside your unprepared core. Sweat collects on his brow as he pins you with his broad frame. 

When he pushes more of himself inside you, your eyes roll back. You don’t think the agony could worsen but somehow it does. 

Your bound hands clench into fists, your nails sinking into your palms. 

“Rafe, please, it hurts,” you whimper. His fingers cinch around your throat in response. Your core burns, your lips parting in a soundless scream as Rafe bottoms out inside you. Your vision blurs with tears. Pure hatred oozes off his husky tone as he starts moving inside you. “You don’t get to complain. I don’t want to hear another fucking word from your mouth, do you hear me?” He drags his cock out and slams it inside your aching walls again. “This is what you deserve so you’re gonna fucking take it. Take my cock until I’m done with you.”

You’re in hell as Rafe grunts like an animal in rut above you, uncaring of the strangled sobs leaving your throat. 

The expression on his face is downright terrifying, empty of anything but burning rage. In every single thrust, you feel the intensity of his loathing for you. How much he craves to punish you for everything. 

To your utter disgust, your cunt grows slick around him, easing his crude assault. 

As he notes your arousal coating his length, he lets out a bone-chilling laugh. “So wet already, huh?” Hand still wrapped around your throat, he bends to whisper into your ear. “I always knew you were a slut.” Your breath hitches as he buries himself even deeper, touching a sensitive spot that sends a fresh wave of pain through you. “That’s why I had to keep you in line.” He drops a soft kiss on your cheek as you tremble beneath him. “Sluts like you need a firm hand.”

You’re nothing but a ragdoll under Rafe as he uses you as a vessel for his pent-up anger and frustration. Every time you graze your peak, your body jolting uncontrollably, he pulls out of you out of the blue, pinching your swollen clit until you cry out and reminding you that you’re not allowed to come, that you don’t deserve even a sliver of release.

You’ve always known Rafe was capable of terrible things. But this…This is worse than anything he’s ever done to you. This is the point of no return.

Every time Rafe ruthlessly pounds into you, a bullet-like sensation rips through your flesh, tearing apart any semblance of normalcy, safety that you had. Hot tears skip down your cheeks. You will never feel safe or normal again. 

“Did you fuck that Pogue?” he snarls, his warmth breath flowing over your face. You’re so dazed and fucked out, on the cusp of passing out, you can barely keep your thoughts coherent, let alone speak. 

“Don’t tell me I already fucked you dumb, princess?” he sneers, annoyance and a sick dose of mirth mingling in his hoarse timbre.

When you fail to provide an answer, he bangs your head against the railings. Pins and needles drill into your skull. He wrenches your head back, pulling on a fistful of your hair until your scalp stings.

“When I ask you a fucking question, you answer,” he seethes. His voice lowers as his eyes dive into yours. “Did you fuck that Pogue?”

“N-No, Rafe,” you wheeze out, your voice weak and defeated.

The marbled floor chafes your back as he steadily ruts into you again, grabbing under your thighs to fuck you even deeper as you weep in silence beneath him. 

“Good. You’re mine and no one else’s. Do you understand? That fucking pussy was always mine…and still is.” He unleashes a drawn-out purr, lips parting as you clench around him. “Fuck you’re tight. How the hell are you so tight?” he rasps, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He lets go of your neck to focus on your hips, corralling them firmly in his large hands so he can fuck you with abandon. “God, I missed this,” he moans. His gaze narrows. “Don’t think you’re off the hook just cause you’ve got a tight pussy.” 

His thrusts grow sloppier over time. Rafe chases his high while you pant helplessly beneath him. When his warmth spills inside you, a shuddered exhale leaves you. He remains nestled between your bruised walls, his heavy body covering yours as his spent leaks between your ass cheeks, pooling beneath you. He plants a slow, soft kiss on your lips, a disturbing contrast to what he just did to you. 

He cups your cheek and strokes the side of your head. 

“You took four years from me. And I intend to make up for lost time.” A devilish grin splits across his face. Dread fills you as he adds, “Maybe I’ll even put another one in you, make sure not to miss anything this time.”

“Mommy, mommy! Look at me,” Parker shouts from astride the majestic pure breed pony his father appointed for his fourth birthday. 

He waves at you and you return the gesture with a hollow smile. 

“I’m watching you, sweetie,” you reply from your lounge chair by the pool. 

Above the Cameron mansion, the sun shines bright, the sky a dizzying shade of blue. There’s not a cloud in sight, almost as if Rafe paid them off to steer clear on his son’s special day.

Parker trots around the yard with a big, ecstatic smile on his face, his dad cheering him on nearby. The little boy requested a pony ride for his birthday so, of course, Rafe Cameron made it happen.

There aren’t many things Cameron money cannot buy. A fact he loves taunting you with every chance he gets. 

Just like the ridiculous, over the top birthday party he put together, Rafe never misses an occasion to spoil his son rotten since they reunited. Almost as if to show you what you’ve been depriving him of all these years, rub his money in your face and make you feel like a terrible mom. 

You can’t deny that it works. Every time Rafe gives Parker something you never could have provided on your own, guilt chews at you. And it’s clear that he knows it, that smug grin always dancing on his face when he catches you looking dejected. 

One of the moms in the lounge chair near yours lets out a dreamy sigh as she devours Rafe with her eyes. 

“You’re a lucky bitch, you know that? Cute son. Hot husband. What I wouldn’t give to have your life.”

Your teeth clench as you bite down every hateful word searing your tongue. From across the yard, Rafe’s icy blue eyes find yours. He beams at you. A chill travels up your spine. You look away.

“Hm…yeah. I guess I am,” you answer, casting a sour glance at the diamond ring on your finger. The gigantic rock’s shimmer is blinding as it catches the sunlight. To everyone else on Figure Eight, the fancy silver ring is a display of Rafe Cameron’s boundless love and devotion for you. It makes women green with envy. It bruises men’s egos. But you see the exorbitant blood diamond for what it is…An expensive shackle binding you to your gilded cage. A reminder that you’re trapped and there is no safe haven away from him anymore.

Rafe hasn’t failed to find little ways to make you pay since that day. Treating you like an object to satisfy his needs behind closed doors while forcing you to maintain the act of the perfect family in public. Every day you awake dreading he found another way to torment you, some fresh hell to rain upon you.

He never runs out of ways to twist the knife he buried deep within you. Again and again.

When the evening reaches its end, all the guests having vacated the house, Rafe slips behind you as you’re cleaning dishes. 

His large hands sweep over your hips and you recoil.

“Rafe…I’m…Can’t we give it a rest, just for today? I’m still sore from the other night,” you plead, desperation making your voice quake.

Before he can answer, Parker interrupts, trailing down the stairs as he yawns. 

“Daddy?” he utters drowsily. 

The little boy is sporting a brand new pajama his father got him, as he didn’t allow you to keep any of the clothes you got him over the years, calling them low quality and cheap.

He approaches your son at the bottom of the stairs and holds his shoulders, giving him a bright grin. His expression turns fond and prideful as he considers his son. The way Rafe is with his son is a sharp contrast to the way he is with everyone else. The toddler’s become the center of his universe. It nearly makes you feel guilty for hiding him. Nearly. The bruises tattooed all over your skin are a wicked reminder of who Rafe truly is.

“Daddy’s coming soon to tuck you in, okay, P?” He kisses the top of his head. “So go back to your room.”

Parker nods as he lets out another yawn. “Okay.”

“That’s my boy,” he chimes, ruffling his honey blonde curls. 

Parker hops up the stairs. When Rafe turns to you, the smile on his face vanishes.

He rushes to you, his hand shooting up to latch around your throat. His deathly grip on your neck crushes your windpipe. You look at him with wide, terrified eyes, your mouth wobbling. An expression edging on murderous decorates his handsome face. 

He snickers. “You’re sore? You think I give a fuck? I’m putting Parker to bed, then I want you waiting for me upstairs in that red lingerie set I just bought you.” He leans over you, mumbling in a low, threatening tone. “I meant what I said. You owe me four years, princess.” He licks the errant tear sliding down your cheek. “And I plan on getting every single second back.”

[montereybayaquarium]

Vote Yes on California’s Prop 4! ☑️

As Californians, we’ve experienced the increasing impacts of climate change—from wildfires to drought and rising sea levels. 

This November, we have a chance to make waves for our environment by voting Yes on Prop 4! 

This climate bond will fund critical projects to address climate impacts including protecting our coasts, preventing wildfires, and securing clean drinking water for the future. Let's safeguard our beautiful coastlines—every vote counts! 🐋💧

Learn more

[follow-up-news]

More than 4,500 square miles of ocean will soon be protected by the federal government off the Central California coast. The Biden administration is creating a new national marine sanctuary, which will be the third largest in the U.S. The sanctuary is also the first to be led by Indigenous people. It was nominated by members of the Northern Chumash Tribe, who drove the effort for more than a decade to protect the rugged coastline that is their historical homeland. Going forward, the new Chumash Heritage National Marine Sanctuary will be managed in partnership with tribes and Indigenous groups in the area, who will advise the federal government. It marks a growing movement under the Biden administration to give tribes a say over the lands and waters that were taken from them.

[the-puffinry]

As an avid freediver since the age of 12, Allnutt remembers how his local coastline once was – full of lush kelp beds that brimmed with marine life. He used to dive near Hove in an area with kelp so dense that “you’d hardly see the rocks and mussel beds” beneath it. Now, he says, “it’s just disappeared”. Most of the UK’s kelp beds have been wiped out by destructive fishing practices such as bottom trawling that leave the seabeds scarred and barren. “We’ve taken so much out of the sea but we’ve not put anything back,” says Allnutt.

What kelp remains, he noticed, is resilient, and he began to wonder if a restoration project could simply “reboot the whole system”. When a new law in 2021 banned trawling in 200square kilometres of Sussex’s inshore waters, Allnutt was initially excited – but soon he realised that, although the areas were newly protected, the government had no actual restoration plans. If no one else would act, he figured, it was down to him.

He set up the tanks in his garage and planted them with kelp tissue he collected from freediving. To cover the cost of the equipment, he picked up extra shifts at the hospital where he works as a physical therapy technician with patients who have had knee and hip replacements. Later, he launched a crowdfunding scheme – called the Sussex Seabed Restoration Project – which has raised more than £3,000. Local restaurants even donated oyster shells for the kelp to grow on.

I found this fundraiser for a seabed restoration project just today, thought I'd share! you can still contribute.

[missisjoker]

Into the Storm

Pairing • Cregan Stark x Wildling!Reader

Tags • mentions of violence, threats of violence, smut.

Rating: Explicit - 18+

The reader infiltrates the Night's Watch castle with a purpose, but it doesn't go according to plan.

Wind-swept mound of the Eastwatch-by-the-sea creeped up on the horizon, dwarfed by the solemn colossal of the Wall stretching as far as the eye could see as you steadied the swaying boat and stepped on the shore.  The grey and green waters of the Bay of Seals were snarling at your feet, treacherous whirlpools dancing and sea foam licking the salty rocks, and the horizon darkened in anticipation of a storm.

You dragged the dingy boat between the boulders ashore, fastened the knot to a nearby tree, and huddled your leather coat tighter around your chest. The soft sheepskin protected well from the summer chill, but the cold winter gusts bit right through it and gnawed at your bones. You downed a sip of water and started climbing up; there was no time to waste idly, unless you wanted to freeze to death and have your eyes picked by seagulls.

Track to the crows’ nest took less than half a day – the dirt road was still dry, pine needles making your walk springy and fast, and you met no stray fishermen or men of the Night’s Watch patrolling the coastline.

Your heart ached- the plan was borderline suicidal, to sneak into the Crows castle and steal the maps of the Wall – but you had no choice; the merciless King-beyond-the-wall deserved to die, and your resolve to see it through settled in your bones like cold settles in the dead of winter.

You waited until dusk, hidden away from the prying eyes and piercing winds behind rotten logs and piles of stone at the castle’s foothill, watching centuries on the walls change and working out the pattern.

When the moon came up, full and pale like goat’s milk, you climbed up the wooden walls past the sleepy guards and hid yourself in the overhead crawlspace above the pathways. The space was narrow, musty and muddy, but you were called the Wild Cat for a reason.

Stealing food from the kitchens was fun no matter how meager and disappointing the bread and stew was; but even more entertaining was taking a hot bath in the cellar while you could’ve been discovered at any minute- and then gleefully watching two young crows fight about the missing hot water.

The outlay of Eastwatch was simple to remember- four watch towers marking each side, training yard and stables in the middle, the great keep with an armory adjacent to the dining hall, a kitchen, a medicinal room, and sleeping quarters squared around them in the form of a horseshoe, all connected by the timber walkways. And, most importantly, the study. A vaulted room in the southern tower, full of dust, books, scrolls, and maps of all kinds.  

It took you three more days of lurking in the shadows like a ghost to learn the shifts and movements, the change of guards, and to single out the “Maester” – a fat, bald man with a flock of greasy white hairs sticking out of his double chin that spent most of his time looking through books and drawing maps in the study. He, too, was easy to learn- after days of work and bossing younger crows around, when the sun set beyond the sea, he’d take a cup of spiced summer wine and a bowl of stew and leave the study empty until the morrow, giving you enough time to roam through the piles of scrolls in search of your target.

You perched in your hiding space, tasted the salty air on your lips, and shivered; the unmoving stillness that stayed in the air for the past few days dissipated; the harbinger of the storm left, and in its place, the winds were picking up again, relentless. The thin, dark line on the horizon was rolling closer, growing and covering half of the sky; even the daylight seemed to dim a little as a winter storm slowly crawled in from the sea.  

A sound of horses neighing and men talking in the yard tickled your ear and your curiosity peaked, but you couldn’t see around the dark logs of your hiding space, and decided not to crawl closer to look – the walls of the castle were wet, century-old pine logs weeping under the prickly wind, and with each dewy tear the movements became more and more unforgiving. Likely, it was nothing to worry about- perhaps they all were feeling the approaching storm and, just like you, were uneased by it.

Finally, the twilight followed the grey, muted dusk, and when the first torches lit up the courtyard, you went in for your target.

The heavy wooden door of the study didn’t have a lock, just a hook from the inside- and the bald master brazenly kept a stick right below the step to pry it open. You creeped into the room and squinted, trying to see in the dark.  By this time, you already knew the room well enough to move around without a light, you could still make out silhouettes and shapes in the dark once your eyes adjusted; an extinguished fireplace at the furthest wall, a heavy table and chairs in the middle, shelves covering the perimeter, and a sleeping bench near the window. Something felt different though, wrong, and made the hair on your neck stand up. It wasn’t just the sweet and mushroomy smell of the old parchments, spiced berry whiff of master’s summer wine, and smoke from the dead fire; no - you felt a faint hint of fir, rosemary, cedar, leather and something unfamiliar that made your heart beat faster. You reached out for a flint when a pile of furs on the bench shifted slightly, and a voice rough from sleep grumbled,

“What are you doing here?”

You froze for a brief second, blood rushing to your face and throat, then took a deep breath and conjured the most soothing and lulling voice you could master, a sweet lullaby tone you heard from women putting their babies to sleep;

“I’m but a dream, my dear, a shadow in the moonlight. Pay me no mind, precious child, lay your weary head to rest and sleep.”

Your feet tip-toed backward toward the door, heart hammering at your ribs, and for a moment, you heard no movement; you breathed out, thinking that your little trick worked, until your back hit something solid and the same voice, clear and fully awake now, growled right above your ear, sending goosebumps across your skin,

“Do you think me a dimwit?”

You yelped and tried to bolt- but your arm was caught in a vicious grip.

You pulled and twisted, tried to wriggle yourself free, but it did nothing; the grip only hardened, surely to leave bruises by the morrow- if you were to live that long - and the man started to pull you closer. So, you twirled on your heels and swung your free arm to slap him - he caught it effortlessly, cuffing your wrist with his hand, but released your other arm in the process- and you gleefully clocked him with it. The impact him stagger backward a step.

All that rowing did make my arms stronger,

You chuckled to yourself, but the humor was short-lived, as the man launched forward and grabbed you again, harder this time;

“Do not hit me again, boy, or I will break your arm.”

You did what you were told and bit him instead.

He cursed and released you again, more out of surprise than pain- but that gave you the needed moment of freedom to dash for the door.

You almost made it when strong arms snatched you by the by the scruff of your neck and hauled you back as if you were a ragdoll; the bastard was too fast and too strong and seemed to see perfectly in the dark, like an animal.

 In desperation, you reached for a knife and put the blade to the man’s throat.

“Unhand me at once.”

“Nay,”

The man grabbed the blade and twisted the knife out of your hand with ease, as if he was prying a toy out of a babe’s grasp, kicked your feet from under you, and threw you on the floor.

Your back hit the hardwood; you winced at the impact and a cracking sound your head made, and then choked out a whine as you were pinned down, the heavy weight crushing your thighs while an iron grip forced both of your arms above your head.

One hand.

That heathen was holding you down with one hand.

You felt anger and fear swirl together into acid, setting fires to your veins.

“What is this, a toothpick?”

His voice was laced with irritation as he examined your knife and ran a thumb along its dull rigged edge,

“An arse scratcher, perhaps?”

Fury rushed through you like boiling oil, as you thrashed and tried biting him again,

“Release me, and you’ll find out.”

You heard him chuckle as he shifted his legs and pinned you down harder,

“Settle down, you little waif.”

You allowed contempt to seep into your voice,

“I’m do not fear you.”

You could hear a grin on the man’s face as he spoke in a low, husky, taunting whisper laced with a touch of amusement,

“Now that is foolish”.

The knife thudded on the floor as the man threw it away like a broken toy and put his free hand on your throat, not enough to strip you of air, but enough to keep you fully under control.

“How many of you are there?”

“Just me.”

The fingers on your throat squeezed harder, pushing you deeper into the floor,  

“How many more?”

“It’s just me! Why do you need more? You can’t even handle one.”

A thumb pressed into your jugular vein, blocking the flow of blood and sending the sound of your own heartbeat echoing in your ears,

“I’m handling you well enough”.

Your fingers twitched with want to free your hand and scratch that arrogance off his face.

“How did you get in here?”

“I walked…”

The man’s hand suddenly left your throat and started roaming your body. You let out a hiss through gritted teeth,

“That desperate, are you, for a free folk to warm your bed? Your crow brothers don’t pleasure you enough?”

The man tsked disapprovingly and continued patting you down.

“I’m looking for weapons.”

His hand was big and warm, and you hated how it burned a trail of heat through the thin leathery coat and pants, barely suppressing a shiver when it slid down your chest right across your tit.  

It suddenly stopped on your waist.

“A woman?”

Realization barely a whisper from him, but it made the blood in your veins run cold, and you coiled, bracing for an assault that never came.

The weight suddenly shifted off your legs, still restraining, but not enough to hurt, and the man flickered something in his pocket and threw it into the fireplace.

You turned your head on instinct at the crackling sound of emerging fire and watched as the first licks of flame ate away the darkness until a strong hand forced your face straight.

You stared at your captor and, oh, the bastard was handsome.  Strong, sharp features framed by a mop of silky brown hair tumbling down broad shoulders that looked like they could shrug off a mountain, corded muscles, soft lips, and piercing eyes that changed color from blue to the stormy grey.

In another life, you would’ve fought other spear wives for a piece of him.

He grabbed your chin and tilted your head to the side, then to the other, observing;  his eyes traced over your body, you felt a traitorous blush creep up your cheeks, as if you were laid out naked under him, at his mercy and under his touch, and you hated yourself for the reaction. Your body was a wild thing, just like you- and it wanted to live, even if your mind has made peace with soon being dead.

“By the sea, then.”

“What?”

“You have salt marks on your boots. Did they run out of the men to send up here, so they risk a woman?”

“Busy with important things,”

His brows furrowed,

“Like what? Getting piss-drunk and fucking wild goats?”

Your eyes narrowed in frustration as you stared into his steel blue ones,

“As if you’re any better, fraternizing with the enemy in the middle of the night.”

“Aren’t fraternizing yet, lass, just getting acquainted.”

Your stomach did a weird jump at the way words rolled off his tongue, and you noticed a faint blush dusting his cheeks.  

“How did you get across the wall?”

“By flapping my arms.”

He braced himself on the free arm and bent closer to you,

“Why are you here? And do not jest; you’re at the end of my patience, a woman that you might be.”

“I need weapons.”

“How much can you fit into your coat?”

“It’s more spacious than it looks.”

He considered you for a moment while you tried not to move, and definitely not to think how the heat of his body was warming you up from head to toe. You must’ve hit your head too hard, because all you could think of was how good he felt on top of your thighs, and how much better he would’ve felt between them.

“Why not trade with the townsfolk?”

 “They don’t have enough castle-forged steel. And yours are better, sharper. They sing when they hit other steel. They sing when they hit the ice. What’s the secret? What do you put in them, crow?”

“Virgin blood. And I’m not a crow.”

“Must be hard to come by.”

He nodded in agreement,

“Aye, very toilsome. And what do you want them for?”

 “Winters are unforgiving. Bet you know nothing of how hard the winters can get up north.”

His mouth tightened, voice sounded controlled, which made it frightening for the lack of emotion in it.

“I know enough, and your hardships are of your own making.”

The fury bubbled in your chest again as you hissed back at him, craning your neck so your noses were almost touching,

“Yes, we were banished beyond the Wall by the Starks simply because we didn’t want to live on our knees.”

He threw you a dirty look,

 “Instead, now you live on your back.”

Blood rushed to your cheeks, and in a newly found bout of strength, you bucked your hips violently enough to throw him off on the floor. 

He landed with a surprised thud as you scrambled to your feet and rushed to the door, but he was faster, again, and stronger - always has been. He grabbed you by the waist and pushed you into the wall, brought you face to face, his arms and his body caging you in. 

You felt goosebumps of fear crawl over your skin as he snarled at you,

“You think you can just prance in here, take what you desire and leave with impunity? Perhaps I should give you to the guards; they will whip the right answers out of you.”

You braced on the wall as your knees almost gave up under you;

“Please don’t” – barely a whisper.  

His sneer was taunting,

“Afraid of a little pain?”

You suppressed a shiver and looked him straight into those cold eyes, battling back treacherous tears,

“Half of your crows are rapists and murderers, whatever they do to me, it won’t be whipping.”

He froze for a second, then his features darkened as he straightened up, a full head taller than you, muscles rolling under the shirt, dwarfing you by his presence. His voice dropped lower,

“I would never allow that”, and for a brief second, you believed him.

Which gave you a crazy idea.

A violent roar of thunder rattled the glass window, and that was enough for you to slip from his hands and dash away, but not to the door.

You sprinted to the table in the center of the room, grabbed a piece of stale bread from the plate the maester left behind, and started vigorously munching.

The man stopped in his tracks and stared at you with undiluted confusion, 

“What are you doing?”

You chewed faster, and then grabbed a cup and gulped it down in one go.

 This is not summer wine.

Your throat burned, your voice coming out as a rough hiss,

“What’s in there?”

“That’s my chamber pot.”

You choked while the bastard had the audacity to laugh.

“I invoke the guest right.”

Now it was his turn to choke.

“You what?”

The incredulity looked funny on him, almost endearing, the crease between his brows smoothed, leaving behind a pleasant, handsome face of a young man as he tilted his head and looked at you like you’ve just grown a pair of horns.

“You’re uninvited.”

“I invited myself. “

“This is not my house.”

“And yet you move around like you own it. So, will you honor it or not?”

He mused on it for a moment,

“Alright. But it goes both ways. You will answer every question I ask of you truthfully, yes?”

“Agreed.”

“And, don’t try to run again,” – his voice dropped lower yet again, sending a shiver through your spine,

“Because I will catch you.”

There was a hint of a threat in the tone, but also something else – amusement, perhaps, or even enjoyment, as the corners of his mouth trended upwards in a barely concealed smile.

An unexpected knock on the door.

You jerked at the sound and looked back at the man, fear flooding your chest again, as he looked at you for what felt a very long second, then made a decision and motioned you to come forth;

“Here, now!”

You moved closer and allowed him to grab you by the shoulders and gracefully move you around the room as if in a dance,

“Not a word.”

He maneuvered you behind the doorframe while holding your wrist, shielded you out of sight with his body as he talked to the man on the other side.

“M’lord, the preparations are done. Stables locked; food lockers secured. Orders?”

“Double the centuries, wake up the captain, and send a patrol through the castle, we might have uninvited visitors.”

“Yes, m’lord”.

As the heavy door screeched shut, you stared at each other.

“M’lord? I’ve never been with a Southern Lord before.”

“Southern?”

“We are south of the Wall, yes.”

A lord, here, at the wall? The Eastwatch… Must be… Lord Umber? What a strike of luck.  

His hand was still on your wrist, thumb rubbing a careful circle on your pulse. You felt your cheeks color again under his gaze, and heard yourself speak before you could stop your own mouth, fighting to keep yourself from purring;

“I heard all southern lords are wanton, have some… strange pleasures, quirks even. Are you one of those? Or the opposite, boring and unbending?”

He leaned in, hot breath tickling your ear,

“I’ll gladly bend my knees for the right woman.”

You steadied yourself with a hand on his waist and gods be damned if that small contact didn’t make heat coil between your legs.

“What is your name?”

“Cregan.”

He didn’t resist when you pushed him into the wall… and thrust a dagger you kept well hidden from his curious hands into the wood right next to his neck.

“Impressive”, he gritted out a little less composed as he pretended to be.

“You should’ve checked better, my lord. “

 Steel bled into your voice as your knife traced a scar on his cheek, then went lower, blade scraping his jaw and following the line of the vein on his neck, pricking the skin just enough to make a dent but not enough to draw blood.

He watched you with an unreadable expression, eyes dark and gleaming. He could easily snap you like a twig, he’s fast and strong enough to do that with ease. Yet he stood there unmoving, like a living statue, steady deep breaths making his chest rise and fall, something akin to hunger burning deep inside the stormy eyes of his, following your every move like a wolf watching his prey.

Excitement thrummed through your veins as you saw his carefully crafted façade crack, little by little.

“You’re threatening me again, guest.”

You traced your fingers over his cheek and jaw and his lips parted in a quiet sigh.

“I have much more to offer.”

He caught your free hand and pulled you even closer,

“You’re going to play a wench now, while you hold a blade to my throat?”

“And what if I’m not playing? Why are men allowed to want and have but gods forbid a woman does the same?”

“Because men can fuck and forget about it the next morning while you might die on a birthing bed.”

There was pain and sorrow in his voice even though his stoic face betrayed almost no emotion, and you wanted to reach out and cup his cheek again to give him comfort.

“Fear of death shouldn’t stop you from living.”

You pulled the knife away from his neck,

“Now, please allow me to explain, I have a lot to tell you.  Think you can do that with a free folk, Lord Umber?”

You flipped the blade in your hand and offer him the hilt as he arched an eyebrow at you. It was a huge gamble, it could easily end up carved into your heart, but…

He took the hilt and nodded.

 “I can do that, yes. What is your name?”

“Y/N, but everyone calls me Cat.”

“A little feral Cat? How very fitting.”

“I’m not little.”

He tilted his head to the side and moved into your space, making you angle your head to look up into his eyes as he almost dwarfed you.

“But you are.”

You flinched, and he moved back, motioning you to move,

“Sit down, say your piece.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and moved to take a chair at the heavy oak table at the center of the room. Your heart was racing, trying to hammer its way out of your chest, and you had to take a breath to steady your voice. This Lord was a blessing sent by the gods, a strike of luck you never dreamed of getting, and you had to make it work no matter the cost.                

 You told him about your people and the new King-beyond-the-Wall Merzymir, the reason of your visit, and the target of your plan.  Merzymir was unhinged and violent man, cruel beyond measure who took pleasure in unrestrained and public brutality. You told Cregan About his sacrifices “to the Others” - gruesome and unforgivable, little suckling babies left in the carved-up mouths of the weirwood trees in the night, with nothing left of them by the morrow but some bones and a red paste. Whole families fed to rabid bears or left outside to freeze to death, doused in water. Men tied up to trees and ripped limb from limb for speaking up against him. About your own family and what he did to them, and how he made you watch. About his plan to find a tunnel under the Wall and cross South, spreading chaos and death wherever he went.  

Cregan remained silent, face betraying little emotion but his fierce eyes were now soft, with a certain gentleness to them, with a trace of sorrow hidden in the deep of the blue and grey. He was hard to read, this lord, so you pressed on with another argument to get him on your side.

“The King-beyond-the-wall has a farther reach than you think. He’s been negotiating with your own kin, and while you sit idly in your pretty castle and think you are safe, the war is coming to you.”

His brows furrowed as he leaned closer,

“I need names.”

“I don’t know the names, but when they met with him, spoke about flaying the Starks and making new coats out of them.”

You watched his lips twitch into a barely concealed snarl and his hands curl into fists; his lithe body twitching with barely restrained fury. 

Suddenly, your heart filled with dread,

“You’re not one of them, are you?”

“No, I’m the one they want to flay”.

You blinked.

Then you blinked again, and twice more, while the cogs in your brain turned faster and then screeched to a halt.

A Stark.

He is a Stark.

A fucking Stark.

He noticed your stare and chuckled,

“I never said I was an Umber.”

You finally closed your mouth,

“Right.”

“What do you want of me?”

“I need a map”.

“Of what?”

“The wall. The tunnels beneath it.”  

“That doesn’t tell me much.”

“I want to get him into a tunnel and kill him there. I want to watch him choke on his own blood, I want to watch his life go out in his eyes, and then I want to piss on his grave. Does that tell you enough? You should want the same, Stark, for he will get across one day, and on that day, your people will be in for rape and slaughter.”

“And you want me to believe you didn’t know I was coming here? That it was all a coincidence and not some wretched plan of yours?”

You let out a tired sigh,

“Some would call it fate. And no, you were not in any plans of mine, but I’m glad you were here.”

He looked at you with those eyes that changed color in the dim light of the fireplace, his fingers tapping on the blackened wood of the table, and you felt like you haven’t convinced him.

“You’re safe now; why risk going back?”

“I made a promise.”

“You promised the dead, they will forgive you for staying alive.”

 “He has my little sister.”

The silence thickened and draped around you like cold summer fog. He looked away for a long moment as the room fell quiet, silence broken only by cracking of the fireplace and your own heartbeat.

Finally,

“So, you were going to steal the map, and get him to cross the Wall, and then what? How would you escape?”

“I didn’t plan that far.”

He stilled.

“Your plan is shite. You’ll get yourself killed before you even reach him, and your sister won’t be any better off for it.”

“I’m not you, m’lord, I can only risk my own life to do justice. Don’t have an army to do my bidding for me.”

“You do now.”

“What?”

“I won’t allow a savage to cross the Wall, nor would I fight on two fronts. You will have your map.”

He got up and dug a map from a pile of scrolls, rolling it out in front of you, and motioned you to come closer. 

“Here’s a tunnel we can lure Merzemir in. There is another tunnel ten miles to the west, but it is well-protected by the Umbers, stay away from there. I will not give you the others. But this one, this will be perfect. It is far enough from the manned castles to be watched properly, and it is not collapsed in, yet.” 

He guided your hand to a small dot on the parchment, and you burned under his touch. His hands were big, rough and calloused but warm and surprisingly gentle, and you wondered how they would feel like caressing your breasts, and thighs and what’s between them.

By the gods, I want to survive, I want to live.

You swallowed a lump in your throat and watched instead how his hair fell off his shoulders and blocked half of his handsome face. You barely restrained yourself from moving the hair out of the way,

 “You should braid that.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Pay attention.”

“So, this is where I kill him?”

“This is where you lead him.”

You threw him a confused glance as he started explaining.

 Cregan’s plan was so simple and yet so clever, and you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry- you shouldn’t have expected anything less; Starks didn’t hold the North for over 8 thousand years because it was given to them, but because they could keep it. You thought when you first saw his face that he was green as the summer grass and never seen the war- but now you knew there wasn’t a mere boy in front of you, but a ruthless and seasoned warrior, and it filled you with dangerous hope.

He sat beside you, the wooden bench creaking under his weight, explaining the plan further. You couldn’t help but steal glances, saving his face, his voice to your memory. The room was cold yet you feel burning, as if he were a furnace, enveloping the space around you into a warm embrace. It was almost suffocating, but you couldn’t get enough, you wanted to roll yourself in it, rub it into your skin until it seeped through your pores and became a part of you.

Was it because he was so easy on the eyes and his rough hands handled you with ease, making you feel alive? Or was it because he just threw you a lifeline and gave you hope that you could actually win?

Perhaps, both.

He broke you out of your daze by reaching behind him and putting a hunting knife next to your hand.

“What is this?”

“Your weapons are shite, but this is castle-forged steel. Take this with you to the Wall to protect yourself. Or, give it to your sister. You said she’s too soft for the wild space, too kind? Then send her to Winterfell with it so my men know who she is, and she will be safe there.”

The emotional turmoil in you picked up, promising to swallow you whole, and you barely bit back the tears.

“You would have her?”

“I would have both of you.”

He reached out and grabbed your chin between his thumb and index finger, and stared through your eyes down into your very soul.

“You’re a little feral Cat, are you not? Then use one of your nine lives and bring it back to me.”

The true meaning, the weight of it all, made you close your eyes to stop your head from spinning, and you can feel his thumb gently caress your jaw and trace along your lower lip.

You shifted back, and take a full breath of air, without looking at him,

“I will do my best, I promise.”

The moment was broken, Cregan lowered his hand and moved back, giving you space, as your body cried at the sudden lack of warmth. Hope was addicting. He was addicting, this Lord Stark.

“I will get going now,”

“The storm ‘s not over.”

A roll of thunder shuddered against the castle walls as if to give the truth to Cregan’s words, but you persisted;

“I’ve already overstayed my welcome,”

“Is everything going to be a battle with you, lass? You’d know by now I will not hurt you, so what are you afraid of?”

That if I stay much longer, I might not leave at all.

He considered you for a moment, then sighed in surrender,

 “Fine, here.”

A black wool coat wrapped around your shoulders as you threw Cregan a confused glance.

“It’s one of the watchmen’s, cover yourself and walk fast. I’ll lead you out.”

***

The mother of all bad ideas slammed into your face with the first gust of wind; the storm outside was raging, painting the whole world around you dark grey. The torches were all blown out and the rain slashed at the walls relentless. You hid behind Cregan’s back as he shielded you with his body, and followed him through the passage way.

You didn’t get far when the beams above you cracked and moaned and buckled under the weight of the storm, and crashed down onto you.

You threw yourself forward, pushing Cregan out of the way and down the stairs; you both tumbled and landed hard on the lower platform.

“Y/N!”

“I’m alright,”

And you were, except for your right foot that was now screaming in pain. You tried to move, but every time you put even a little of weight on it, a scorching bolt of pain shot through, making you hiss. Wind didn’t help either; you were swaying on your feet like a young silver birch, failing to find your balance.

“We’re going back.”

“I’m fine, just go, I’ll find my own…”

He hauled you up into his arms as if you weighted nothing, holding you so tight you couldn’t wiggle your way out of his grasp even if you wanted to,

“I wasn’t asking.”

His commanding tone left no room for arguing, so you kept silent and wrapped your arms around his neck instead.

He placed you carefully onto the bench and discarded both of your coats. You wheezed  in pain as he took off the boot and examined your ankle, kneeling in front of you and placing your bare foot on top of his thigh. You leaned backwards, allowing him to work his hands over the sensitive skin, kneading the muscles and soothing away the soreness.

“It’s just a strain, but you shouldn’t walk at least until tomorrow.”

Then he noticed a bruise from the rope sneaking and coiling around your calve, old and faded, already turning green and yellow, and traced it with his fingers up to your knee.

“He did this to you?”

“It’s almost healed.”

“He will pay for it.”

The silence thickened while his hands were firm on your thighs, your skin burning through the clothes under his touch. He hesitated,

“Do you…”

Your hand cupped his cheek and caressed his face, making him look up at you, and smiled,

“Do you want to take me up on my other offer?”

“And if I do?”

Your eyes flickered to his mouth and you felt like a desperate, starving woman, the need to touch and to taste crawling under your skin and curling in your chest; his hands rested on your waist now, caging you in, and you wanted to be caged, to be taken and devoured, you wanted him to place you underneath him and do whatever he desired, without mercy. And when your eyes met his, you saw your desperation mirrored in them; you were both starving animals that wanted to feast, so you finally snapped.

The first kiss was angry, but almost chaste; just pressing your lips into his, melting into the warmth. You let out a sigh and ran your fingers along the side of Cregan’s face.  That was enough to get him to move, to grab the side of you neck and maneuver you to deepen the kiss. His mouth ravaged yours, tasted your lips, your tongue, placed a careful nib on your lower lip, traced your jaw and the side of your neck. You felt ablaze, alive, by the gods, you were trying to survive so hard and so long you forgot how to live. You wrapped your arms around him, curling your fingers into his hair to keep you steady, and tilted your head, letting him kiss the other side of your neck down to your shoulder.

You gasped in protest when he suddenly pulled away and drew a steadying breath, avoiding your gaze.

His body vibrated with barely controlled restrain as he finally looked up at you,

“If you want me to stop, say it now.”

You grabbed a fistful of his shirt and leaned back onto the bench, wrapping your legs around his waist and tugging him on top of you, looking into his eyes with pupils blown with lust you were so eager to satiate,

“Don’t you dare.”

That’s all it took to break the last of his resolve. Cregan pressed his mouth into yours, much rougher than before, licking and biting moans out of you, your mouths molding into the shape of each other.  You sighed and arched into his touch, pride swelling in your chest for you just did the unthinkable- you set the stoic, composed Lord of Winterfell free from his lordly chains.

You didn’t have to be quiet, thank the Old gods, the storm outside drowning your moans from unwanted ears, so you let it pour out. Cregan’s hold on your waist tightened as he kissed you harder and nipped on your bottom lip, then pushed your legs open wider with his knee, rocking between your thigs with his arousal, creating perfect friction and stealing another moan out of you.

His nimble fingers made a quick work of your coat and shirt, and then your pants, and you were splayed bare, blushing as he ran his hands over your sides and looked over your body with something akin to reverence, taking it all in.

You grabbed onto his shirt and tugged,

“Take it off”.

He complied immediately, pulling the shirt off in one swoop and lowering himself back into another deep kiss, his chest rumbling with an approving groan as you whined into his mouth at the contact.

He’s burning hot, and your body curled into the heat and melted under it, nipples perking up at the friction of skin on skin as you ran your nails down his back.

He wrapped his hand around your throat and tilted your head, giving himself full access to your neck, kissing all of it, hot breath tickling your ear and lips sucking at your pulse. He pecked on the sensitive skin in the crook of your neck, making you whine and buck your hips, and went lower, cupping your breast as he slowly kissed his way down to the other one.

You wriggled underneath him, wetness pooling between your things and your cunt clenching at the emptiness so desperately it was borderline painful.

“Just fuck me already, what…”

Cregan ran his tongue over your nipple cut your protest short; sucked on the little bud, and wrapped his lips around it, making you whimper louder underneath him.

“Patience, my little cat, we have time.”

 His kissed a trail lower, to your belly, to the dips of your hips, to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.  You shuddered as his fingers finally reached your folds, inquisitive, sliding through the damp heat as he cursed,

“Fuck, you’re dripping wet,”

“Damn, Stark, I’m not one of your blushing virgin maidens, I don’t need you to… “

His tongue lapped at your folds and you let out an obscene moan, hips involuntarily jerking up but he pushed them down and kept them in place as he licked and prodded and nibbled, circling your pearl in a teasing repetition, sending shock through your spine, making your back arch and hands desperately grab the furs.

You slapped your hand over your mouth to keep you from moaning louder as the pleasure crested and your body tingled in anticipation. Suddenly, he reared back, watching you whine and struggle at the loss of friction from between your thighs.

“Why’d you stop?”

You protested in an outraged whine, but he just smirked, lifted himself up and entered you in one move, the burn of the stretch and the sudden fullness making your mouth fall open and you letting out a string of curses. You buckled your hips against him like you couldn’t stop yourself, grinding and pushing yourself split open on his cock as he stilled your waist with a heavy hand and simply watched your desperate thrashes. The friction was enough to send you over the top, and you clenched violently around him, your thighs struggling to close around his waist while your heels kicked on the furs, riding your orgasm. As you came down, he rubbed your belly and kneaded your meaty thighs and buttocks.

’t was to your liking then?”

“you bastard!”

He was smiling, and it was the most beautiful thing you’ve seen in a long time.

He ran his hands over your body, thumbs playing with your nipples, caressing your waist, rubbing your thighs as you slowly adjusted to his girth inside you;  he was big, almost too big, but your cunt sang being filled up to the point of bursting.

He whispered, “spread ‘ll more for me, love” and you immediately spread your legs wider, allowing him to sink deeper in you. He moaned quietly, sheathing himself fully in your body, and it’s the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard.

His hands grabbed your waist and lift your butt up to rest your thighs on his. He picked up an achingly slow pace, savoring every moment, making you feel every inch of his cock sliding in and out of you, sweet torture with each claiming roll of his hips. You tried to mirror his movements, arching your back and pressing into him, as he let out a soft appreciative laugh,

 “Such an eager thing,”

 He picked up his speed, sinking himself into you with fast, powerful thrusts, reducing you to a moaning, whimpering, withering wench fully under his control.  You dragged your nails over his bare chest, his arms, his back, as the sound of wet skin slapping skin filled the room. The sensation was maddening, but you couldn’t get enough of it, of him, of being filled up and being alive.  

Cregan dipped his body onto yours and caged you between his arms, kissing your mouth, your jaw, your neck as he continued  to thrust inside of you, until the pleasure coiled and burst and your vision whited out. You felt his hips stutter, losing the rhythm, shortly after, as he chased his own pleasure, cursing and moaning your name into your ear.

He dragged his nose along the line of your neck, inhaling deeply, voice rough and raw,

“You’re here to steal my sanity, aren’t you?”

You ran your hand on the side of his face, looking into his eyes,

“Would it be such a bad thing?”

He looked at you almost in awe, the sheen of sweat glistening on his brow, and then pressed his forehead to yours,

“No, it would not.”

You curled closer to him, soaking his warmth and feeling his heartbeat echo under your skin, as he caressed your face and your jaw,

“You have to stay alive, y/n.”

The softness of his voice clawed at your heart and made it bleed,

“Cregan, I…”

Your eyes met his, full of understanding and resolve, as he whispered against your lips,

“I know.”

He said nothing else for a while, just tracing his fingers along the lines of your body, rubbing his thumb over a spot where he sucked on your skin just before.

“Admiring your work?”

Your tone was teasing, but he replied in absolute seriousness,

“And what if I am?”

That prickled you and your brow arched at his shamelessness, as you pushed him down and crawled on top of him,

“You know, two can play this game.”

His hands instinctively grabbed your waist while you wasted no time and started kissing his mouth, his jaw, down to his neck, and then sucked a hickey onto it.

A deep sigh he let out encouraged you to continue,

“You shouldn’t”.

“What? You don’t like it?”

You felt him writhe under you and knead your ass as you peppered his body with kisses and small nibbles in revenge,

”Kitten, stop.”

You persisted, kissing and sucking as his hands roamed your body, and then found the tender skin in the crook of his neck, and bit down, not enough to draw blood but hard enough to leave a mark by the morrow,

“Fuck!”

Cregan suddenly surged up, lifting your hips and lowering you on his hard cock, drawing a maddening moan from both of you,

“Oh, so you do like it”.

 “I do.”

His voice was rough as he started fucking you face-to-face, at a frantic pace, almost desperately, hands gripping your waist as he moved you back and forth on his cock.  You mirrored his movements, griding down on his hips, grabbing a fistful of his hair, cupping his face to kiss.  He fucked you like he owned you, or like you were out of time- and he was right at both.  You threw your hands around his neck and brought the two of you even closer, bracing on his arm and pulling his head down to your shoulder, letting his soft moans fill your ears as his hardness mercilessly filled your cunt.

“You are as feral as I am,” you whispered, realization hitting you hard and his hot breath tickled your ear,

“You’re right in that”.

The admission was open and vulnerable, and you forced yourself to look into Cregan’s eyes, at his face, beautiful and disheveled, and thought for a second that maybe he was as much gone for you as you were for him, even if only for just one night.

Cregan lifted you up once more and lowered you on your back, pushing your legs to your chest, allowing him deepest access. Your toes curled as he fucked you senseless, each stroke getting harder and faster, and you came with his name as a prayer on your lips.

When his movements became erratic once more, you wrapped your legs around his waist and pushed him deeper into you, grabbing him by his hair,

“Spill in me, Cregan, I want ALL of you. Make me yours.”

He groaned at the sound of it and closed his hand around your neck as he slowed down his hips and savored every thrust, filling you with his hot seed and sending you over the edge, again.  

You’ve never been on such a high before, body floating, mind whiting out in euphoria like an open field shining in the sun under the first cover of snow. Cregan draped over you, keeping you caged in and warm, and you curled into him, soaking it all in, taking his warmth, his smell, his voice to memory for future cold-biting nights, catching them in your mind like you’d catch fireflies to keep you company in the dark.

You knew by then, that whatever the future held for you, he ruined you for any other man. It would never be enough; nobody would ever be enough - and you made your peace with that.

As you both drifted to sleep in each other’s arms, your fingers found their way into his hair.

“’t are you doin’”

“Braiding your hair.”

“Hmm… I’ll allow that.”

You barely stopped a laugh as he nuzzled into your neck and let your fingers do their job.

***

You left at dawn, while he was still asleep, taking a moment to look over his peaceful sleeping frame and take his handsome face to your memory, placing a soft kiss on his brow.

The storm had lifted up, but the gusts of wind swept through the air, making you stumble.

You hid in the forest for a while, waiting for the last whirls of the storm to dissipate and yearning for… what?

Him.

You finally saw him ride out the castle with a small group of men, with your braid still in his hair. It made your throat itch and eyes sting, but then you took a deep breath and straightened up.

You were the Cat of the North. You were going to do what you planned, you would survive it, and then you would make your way to Winterfell.

[lizardboiii]

Tongue Tied┃One Piece

[Protective!Dracule Mihawk x Poneglyph Speaking!Reader]

│Summary: Washed up on a gloomy shore, your only solace is a dark an empty castle. Yet, when the castle's only resident finally returns, you are met with an undeniable problem. The language you speak is completely dead to his world.

"Flailing your hands around isn't going to make me understand you any more."

"𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐!"

・❥・

│cw: 18+, SFW, violent undertones, f!reader, mihawk's eyes, terrible nicknames

│wc: 1.8k

│chapters: I II III

│notes: poneglyph writing/speaking in different font. normal font is any other language as written. enjoy <3

・❥・

│Chapter I: Bird of Prey

Squawking.

Soft and high pitch, the incessant cries of seagulls flooded your ears like a symphony. You groaned audibly at the noise. An action you almost instantly regretted as a sudden rush of frigid sea water seeped into your cracked mouth. 

Hacking up a storm, you were quick to come to your, mostly delirious, senses. You laid sprawled out on a strange gloomy shore. The water, almost too calm for your liking, combined with an eerie fog rolling in from the seemingly endless coastline, felt as if you entered purgatory. 

Stumbling to your soaked feet, you tested your balance. Though your legs wavered slightly, you managed to pull yourself from the water’s surprisingly strong tide. You felt like you might be sucked back out to sea. 

Swallowing nervously, you grimaced at the bitter taste of salt still lathered on your tongue. It was a sickly reminder of your current predicament. You were completely stranded, alone. Clenching your eyes shut, you replayed the moments before the disaster. 

Your rickety fishing boat swayed innocently on the open water, unaware of the massive storm brewing overhead. You had no time to prepare, no time to act, no time to ensure any self-preservation. In the blink of an eye, the sky blackened.

The small white capping waves surrounding you abruptly grew in size and violence. Your small boat stood no chance. The futile struggle to stay right side up only lasted moments. With one final wave, your boat capsized from the continuous abuse.  

Shrieking, your body was thrown into the raging sea like a rag doll. You struggled hard against the current, only managing to break the water’s surface every couple of seconds. 

Eventually, your arms grew too tired, too weak, too heavy. It became more of a struggle to convince yourself to stay afloat than to fight the waves dragging you beneath their depths. Then, the world went dark.

Taking a deep breath, you willed away any more dreadful thoughts. The sooner you could find another spare ship the quicker you could go back home.

Scanning your surroundings, you searched for any ships, abandoned or not. Immediately your eyes caught a shocking scene. Nestled far beyond the shore, a massive crumbling castle towered over the island. You couldn't help but remark how fitting it was.

The discovery did little to encourage you. An abandoned castle meant no life, and no life meant no ships. You threaded your fingers through your hair. How could this get any worse?

The sound of thunder mocked your internal monologue. Groaning loudly, you began your venture towards the lonesome castle in an attempt to escape the rapidly forming storm. 

You managed to reach the half point mark before your skin began to crawl. You couldn't help but feel like something, or someone, was watching you through the underbrush. Though you tried to chalk it up to paranoia, you swore you saw something red glowing within the trees. It was just your luck to be marooned on a haunted island.

Whether it was divine intervention or simply uninterest, you managed to reach the chipped steps of the castle unscathed. Although that didn't stop you from hightailing it inside. 

A closer look inside the fortress told you just how regal it once appeared to be: large stained glass windows, tall decorative pillars, and corridors that seemed to stretch for miles. You were in awe from the moment you entered.

In due time, you found your way to an equally extravagant dining room. The wood of the table was scratched and weathered, but ultimately well taken care of. However, the real centerpiece of the room was a massive chair befitting the end.

The plush seat was adorned with gold trim and a deep red leather. You wondered if someone had lugged it in there from the throne room. Swiping a finger across the armrest, you rubbed your fingers together. A thick layer of dust slowly floated to the ground.

You hummed more so to yourself, “𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚍.”

Spinning on your heel, you shamelessly plopped yourself down on the gaudy throne. It wouldn't hurt to live in a palace. For a short while at least. You could stay there until you were able to either build another boat or be lucky enough to be rescued.

You smiled, “𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚎𝚗.”

・❥・

After a month of trial and error, it seemed like you greatly overestimated your raft crafting capabilities. The trees on the island were far too thick for you to cut down with no ax, and any driftwood washed up on the beach seemed to crumble from even the gentlest touch.

You were starting to wonder if you’d be trapped there forever. 

That was until you ventured out on your daily search for partly salvageable driftwood. Aloft the gentle waves was an all too strange… ship? Raft? Casket? To be honest, you weren’t exactly sure what it was.

There was only thing you knew for sure, the small vessel was currently barreling towards your remote island. You could barely contain your excitement. 

You were going home.

Dropping the withered planks in your hands, you allowed them to shatter against the plush sand before bolting to get closer with the ship. Your eyes remained locked in on the crossed shaped mast that grew ever closer. Its black sails signaling “Freedom”.

Your tunnel vision made you stumble and trip over your own feet as you ran. And when you weren't running - you were crawling. Your hands desperately clawed at the damp sand in order to lift yourself back to your feet. You could not bear to lose your fleeting chance of leaving your island prison.

Eventually, the gothic ship docked. Its black sails were slowly being pulled into bundles when you finally managed to reach it. And reach it you did. 

You met the ship with little discretion. Squabbling and frantic, you made no effort to contain your emotions in front of the ship’s presumed Captain. Manners could wait until your safety was secured.

Thrusting your hands in the air, you made your presence widely known, “𝙴𝚡𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚎!”

The man before you hesitated slightly before releasing his hold on the black stained linen. Turning his obscured face, you noted the lackluster expression he wore. He seemed neither surprised nor unsurprised, merely…inconvenienced.  

“𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞,” you laughed awkwardly, “𝙸 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗, 𝙼𝚢 𝙶𝚘𝚍, 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝙸 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎? 𝙰 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑 𝚋𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚠!”

The man greeted your pitiful tangent with a stagnant silence. If you hadn't noticed his previous disinterest, you definitely noticed it now. Taking a deep breath, you internally assessed your newly appointed “savior”.

He stood tall, extremely so. He was taller than any man you knew on your home island. You assumed you'd only reach his chest if you stood side by side. However, he certainly did not lack in the muscle department either. He was broad, thick even. You wondered if his shoulders were as firm as they looked.

Gradually, your eyes wandered to an elegantly crafted coat. The dark red of his sleeves were a stark contrast against his unnaturally pale skin which, unsurprisingly, he left on full display. Not that you minded of course.

However, the most striking attribute he bore was his eyes. They shone brighter than any golden jewel found on the Grand Line, rivaling the sun itself. You certain even Helios swooned over his canary colored irises.

Entranced, you allowed yourself to be captivated. The thick black rims surrounding his pupils produced an almost stained glass appearance. All you wanted to do was consume more, read into them like a devout worshiper. It was as if they bore scripture.

You unconsciously shifted forward, trying to get a closer look. That was your first mistake. Abruptly, those very eyes sharpened with hostility, sizing you up like a hawk. It seemed your sudden movement labeled you a threat.

“Who are…”

The temperature felt as if it plummeted. Icy and thick, you didn't need hands around your neck to feel like you were being strangled. You couldn't understand why this was happening, mainly because…

“You?”

You had no idea what he was saying. 

Hands trembling, you stared at the man above you in confusion. You were sure if you did not respond he could, and would, take action. Maybe if you weren't quick enough in answering he’d kidnap you and sell you off for some pocket change. Or worse, he would kill you for just causing him trouble.

You racked your brain for any semblance of a response. What could you have even done to warrant such an intense reaction?

“…𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝,” You swallowed hard, “𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍?”

The tense atmosphere gave way slightly, releasing its invisible hold on your throat. 

Sighing quietly, the ravenette grumbled to himself, “It seems we don’t speak the same language. How inconvenient.”

Annoyed, the taller man searched your person with his honey laced eyes. Satisfied with his findings, he returned his attention back to his vessel. You pondered if your lack of weapons made you into a problem that could be “dealt with later”.

However, you didn't want to be tossed aside until later. You wanted to return home. And if that meant attempting communication with a hostile vampiric asshole, you'd have to try!

“𝚄𝚖,” You scrambled to the other side of the man's ship in an attempt to regain his attention.

“𝚂𝚒𝚛, 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝!”

Goldy, newly nicknamed, paid you no mind, favoring to strap down his ship without haste. You chewed on the inside of your cheek in frustration.

Shuffling beside him, you implemented drastic measures. However, your hand only managed to move a centimeter towards Goldy’s arm before your wrist was swiftly snatched in a painful grip.

Not wasting a moment of Goldy’s notice, you began frantically pointing at yourself with your free hand, “𝙸!”

You motioned at the ship, “𝙽𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚊𝚝!”

Goldy released his iron grip and stood to his full height, “Stop being troublesome.”

“𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚊𝚝. 𝙸 𝚌𝚊��’𝚝 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎!”

The ravenette merely continued to stare at you disinterested. Perhaps he was debating if cutting you down now would be easier than listening to nonsensical ramblings.

Nevertheless, you waved your hands down your body, “𝙼𝚎!” 

You gestured at his ship, “𝙱𝚘𝚊𝚝!”

You clasped your hands together, “𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎!”

"Flailing your hands around isn't going to make me understand you any more."

"𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐!"

Goldy easily ignored your pestering and walked around you, “I don’t have time for this.”

“𝚆𝚊𝚒𝚝!” You ran after his form, “𝙱𝚘𝚊𝚝! 𝙱𝚘𝚊𝚝! 𝙱𝚘𝚊𝚝!”

You followed Goldy with continued pleas. Yet, his long legs persisted across the desolate beach to the hidden pathway located in the tree line.

Your brows furrowed at the observation. It took you a week to find the secret trail that led from the beach straight to the castle. How could he have found it so easily?

You finally fell silent as Goldy traversed the path like the back of his hand. He walked confidently. It was as if he had been on the island before.

A sudden thought crossed your mind. 

Goldy lived here.

・❥・

[seventies-arcana]

PAC: you're someone's muse; this is how they'd describe you

good evening lovies, i hope tonights super moon is treating you well. in this pac reading, you will find out how someone would describe you if you were their muse. this reading is purely for entertainment and enjoyment purposes.

ask upon your guides/higher self to help guide you to whichever pile/photo you should pick, then read the corresponding message. images are not mine

pick a picture to begin✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

pile one (the field): pleasing + give way

you are such a pleasing and enjoyable person to spend time with. the things you are able to do, no matter how minuscule you might find them to be, are awe-striking. there's a passion behind your eyes that adds to the radiance that surrounds you. with this, you are very attentive. you remember things people say which makes others feel seen in a way they've never felt before. you're down for whatever in the best way possible and it makes you someone that could only ever be described as fun to be around. you're adventurous at heart and consider home to be wherever your loved ones are. this makes people feel safe around you. the smell of late summer, campfires and sunflowers is something to be associated with you. you're a breath of fresh air.

pile two (the clementine): care + apple of the eye

oh, you are just so sweet. so kindhearted. you care for people so deeply and love so wholeheartedly. you make people see their insecurities as something to find beautiful. your hugs make people feel protected, it is easy to fall asleep when wrapped up in your arms. your eyes are mesmerizing, so easy to get lost in. one moment, they are doe-like, the next, the exact opposite. it's the way you flirt with your eyes that makes others feel so weak in the knees. but this doesn't make you cheeky. in fact, you are loyal and committed to the one you love. because when you love, you love intensely. you are a romantic at heart. your energy is reminiscent of candle lit homemade dinners that begin a night of endless cuddles. of fresh florals and luscious baths. you are a place of comfort.

pile three (the cat): challenge + puppy energy

you will never lower your standards or settle for someone who isn't what you want, and that is just so attractive. you know what type of relationships you want and that adds to your appeal. not just anyone can be the reciprocator of your divine affection. you speak to people once and they cant help but want to learn more about you. you're siren-like without even intending to be. once you truly let someone into your heart, you become such a lovable softie. you are so sweet and wholesome when you love, no one would ever guess it. your reminiscent of fresh linen blankets in perfectly cool rooms. your touch is soft and soothing. when you smile, genuinely smile, it brightens the mood of anyone around to see it. to be able to receive the love you give is one in a million. you are unlike anyone else.

pile four (the beach): no judgements + new perspectives

you are the model example of how everyone should be. you are accepting of people, no matter their status, and care deeply for those who may have been overlooked by others. you treat people however they treat you. you know your worth and will never let someone tarnish it. you are unapologetically yourself and that is something so rare to find, it makes others captivated by you. nonetheless, you are mysterious. you savor some aspects of yourself and only show them to the people you love. these aspects of you are the most rewarding thing to experience. every now and then, you can be mischievous. but it is all in good fun. you are filled with surprises and each one of them adds to your allure. you remind others of violets and nights spent walking along the coastline. you are utterly captivating.

please like, follow, and reblog! i appreciate it a lot :)

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

A Father’s Embrace

word count: 733

Pairing: Toto Wolff x Wife!reader, ft. Jack

Summary: A peaceful day on the yacht brings Toto, Y/n, and their son Jack closer, as they share a heartfelt moment wrapped in the serenity of the ocean and the warmth of family love.

______________________________________________________________

The sun hung lazily in the sky, its warm golden rays spilling across the ocean's surface, casting glimmers that danced on the calm water. The gentle hum of the yacht's engine was soothing, a low murmur that blended seamlessly with the distant calls of seabirds. The air was filled with a quiet peace, the kind only found far from the bustle of their daily lives.

Toto sat with a soft smile playing on his lips, his arms wrapped protectively around their son, Jack, who had curled up into his chest, lulled by the rhythmic sway of the boat. His normally energetic little boy had been worn out by the sun and the excitement of the day. Jack's head rested against Toto’s chest, his small arms clutching his father, who wore his favorite white sweater. Toto’s sunglasses reflected the serene blue of the sea as he glanced out across the horizon, then down at Jack, his expression softening even more.

You leaned against the railing of the yacht, watching the two of them with a fond smile, the sight melting your heart. It wasn’t often that you saw Toto so still, so utterly at peace. He was always moving, always thinking, whether at the track or managing the pressures of his team. But here, in the quiet embrace of the ocean, with Jack asleep in his arms, he seemed to breathe a little easier.

“Mommy,” Jack had mumbled earlier before drifting off, his little body cocooned in warmth. You had smiled and kissed his head, the soft curls tickling your lips. Toto had reached out then, gently pulling you closer into their cocoon of warmth.

Now, as the yacht drifted along the coastline, you moved closer and sat beside them, your hand finding Toto’s. He squeezed it gently, a silent acknowledgment of the peace between you all. No words were needed—this moment spoke volumes. It was the kind of quiet joy that came from simply being together.

Toto turned slightly to meet your gaze, the sunlight catching his eyes behind his reflective glasses. “He’s out like a light,” he whispered with a grin, careful not to wake Jack. His other hand stroked Jack’s hair absentmindedly, the gesture so full of love and tenderness that it made your heart swell.

“He had a big day,” you replied softly, your thumb running over the back of Toto’s hand. “Couldn’t wait to follow you around the boat earlier.”

Toto chuckled, a deep sound that rumbled in his chest. “He’s always got so much energy, just like his mother.”

You laughed quietly, leaning your head against his shoulder. “He’s got your determination, though. He doesn’t give up until he gets what he wants.”

Toto smiled, a glint of pride in his eyes. “That’s true,” he murmured. “But right now, all he needs is to rest.”

The wind picked up slightly, causing the edges of the water to ripple. You pulled your jacket tighter around you, and Toto shifted, drawing you in closer without disturbing Jack.

“We should do this more often,” he said after a long pause, his voice low. “Just us. No races, no meetings. Just our family.”

You nodded, your heart warmed by the sincerity in his words. “I’d like that.”

For a while, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the only sounds around you the gentle lap of the waves against the yacht and the occasional soft breath from Jack. The world felt far away here, like nothing could reach you.

As the sun dipped lower toward the horizon, casting the sky in hues of pink and orange, you looked up at Toto, the man who held your heart just as securely as he held your son. He caught your gaze and smiled that soft smile reserved only for moments like this, where it was just the three of you, wrapped in a cocoon of love and tranquility.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the wind.

“For what?” he asked, brow slightly furrowed.

“For being you. For always being here.”

Toto’s grip on your hand tightened, and he brought it up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “I’ll always be here, love. For you, for Jack. Always.”

The yacht continued its gentle journey across the water, carrying with it the quiet promise of more days like this, filled with love, laughter, and the warmth of family.

[vestaignis]

PHLYCTENACTIS TUBERCULOSA.

Phlyctenactis tuberculosa, широко известная как блуждающая морская актиния или плавающая актиния, является видом морских анемонов семейства актиний. Она произрастает в мелководных морях вокруг Австралии и Новой Зеландии, а также встречается в Чили. Впервые была описана французским зоологом Жаном Рене Константом Куа и французским натуралистом Жозефом Полем Геймаром. Они были военно-морскими хирургами французского флота, которые собрали значительные коллекции различных организмов во время путешествий.

Эта актиния покрыта пузырчатыми мешочками и бывает разных цветов: от коричневато-оранжевого, лилового, светло-серого до коричневого. Щупальца светлее и могут быть бледно-желтого, серого, коричневого или оранжево-желтого цвета. Она вырастает до максимального размера 15 сантиметров (6 дюймов) в диаметре ,со стеблем, который может достигать 25 сантиметров (10 дюймов) в длину. В течение дня блуждающая морская актиния остается скрученной вместе, выглядя как шар из печеных бобов.

Этот ночной вид актинии, обитает на открытых побережьях и среди защищенных коралловых рифов на глубине до 35 метров. Он прикрепляется к камням, морским травам и водорослям, но может отцепить свой педальный диск и обычно дрейфует по морскому дну. Плавающая актиния передвигается по морскому дну, ползая с помощью своего базального диска, а ночью взбирается на морские травы или водоросли, чтобы найти лучшее место для перехвата проплывающей мимо добычи.

Странствующий морской анемон ядовит, и прикосновение к щупальцам может вызвать болезненный укус. Пловцам рекомендуется избегать прикосновений к анемону и надевать защитную одежду.

Phlyctenactis tuberculosa, commonly known as the wandering sea anemone or floating anemone, is a species of sea anemone in the family Anemoneidae. It is native to shallow seas around Australia and New Zealand, and is also found in Chile. It was first described by the French zoologist Jean René Constant Coix and the French naturalist Joseph Paul Gaymard. They were naval surgeons in the French Navy who made significant collections of various organisms during their voyages.

This anemone is covered in bladder-like sacs and comes in a variety of colors, from brownish-orange, lilac, light gray, to brown. The tentacles are lighter and can be pale yellow, gray, brown, or orange-yellow. It grows to a maximum size of 15 centimetres (6 in) in diameter, with a stalk that can reach 25 centimetres (10 in) in length. During the day, the wandering sea anemone remains coiled together, looking like a ball of baked beans.

This nocturnal species of sea anemone lives on exposed coastlines and among sheltered coral reefs at depths of up to 35 metres (115 ft). It attaches itself to rocks, sea grasses and seaweed, but can detach its pedal disc and usually drifts along the sea floor. The floating anemone moves along the sea floor by crawling with its basal disc, and at night climbs onto sea grasses or seaweed to find the best place to intercept passing prey.

The wandering sea anemone is venomous, and touching its tentacles can cause a painful sting. Swimmers are advised to avoid touching the anemone and to wear protective clothing.

Источник://t.me/+E4YBiErj0A8wOGUy,/collections.museumsvictoria.com.au/species/8618,/atlasoflife.org.au/creaturefeatures/2021/01/07/an-early-brief-snorkel,/www.reeflex.net/tiere/8754_Phlyctenactis _ tuberculosa.htm,//www.realmonstrosities.com/2015/01/wandering-sea-anemone.html,//shapeandtheidea.wordpress.com /2015/10/11 / wandering-anemone/,/animalia.bio/index.php/phlyctenactis-tuberculosa.

[rosedere]

The Pearl Brooch

(Yan Sea god! Azul Ashengrotto x Afab sacrifice reader)

Cw: Yandere, (actually this story is pretty tame tbh)

-

“Do you think your roommate is going to get the pearl brooch this year?” 

You stopped suddenly behind the girl you were walking besides on the walking trail, the only trail, that led towards the end of the craggy coastline that protected your village. You didn't really know this girl, only that they’d occasionally talk to you once in a while in passing from school, and in cases like this, just randomly running into them on your walking trail.

However, it didn't mean you liked running into them.

”Probably,” you scoffed, kicking a stray rock on the path.

”She does have all the qualities the Great Sea witch wants in his Pearl brides,” you shrugged.

The girl ran a few fingers in her teal strands, combing the black streak, attempting to put her hair in a half-ponytail, half-down hairstyle.

”I would argue she doesn't,” she hummed.

You looked over at her to read her expression; she was merely looking up at the bright, sunny sky above the two of you, enjoying the clear weather that had been a welcomed surprise after the tsunamis that plagued your small village around this time of the summer.

”Okay, I'll bite; you wanna tell me who you think is going to get it this year?” You scrunched your face in annoyance.

”Not her, that's for sure,” your strange friend quickly responded.

”Come on, tell me! Let’s make a wager. I need some money and entertainment since I’ve aged out of the brooch ceremony.” You held your hands in a fist of determination, stopping in front of your strange, tall acquaintance.

She finally stopped walking beside you, smiling towards you with a glint of sincerity. Pausing in your movements, you made eye contact with her mismatched eyes.

”Im afraid to say so in case you let it get to your head,” she shrugged, “and this year is supposed to be a special year anyhow, why ruin the surprise, especially since my accuracy on who the next bride is never off”.

Confused more than ever, you furrowed your brow.

”So you're saying Alaina isn't the pearl bride this year?” You scratched your head.

”That's a very bold claim to make,” you thoughtfully added.

Your friend only nodded, still walking close to you.

“Is it maybe one of the girls from the inner village—I heard our village leader's daughter has great potential to be a pearl bride” 

only silence from your teal-haired friend as she kept smiling to herself, it almost annoyed you, seeming like she wasn't listening to a word you said.

”Okay, what if it's the fisherman’s daughter! She’s got the prettiest eyes; they remind me of a babydoll!” You confidently said.

Your friend only kept walking straight, most likely ignoring your guesses.

Getting annoyed at this point, whoever it might be, you decided to have a little fun with your answer.

”Oh well, guess Im going to be the pearl brooch holder then,” you laughed to yourself, “I do love the ocean, so I doubt he'd need to summon me to the ceremony,” you continued teasing.

But instead of a uncomfortable grimace youd normally recieve when you'd talk about yourself her small smile stayed firm before she eventually stopped walking, only looking down at the rocky and gravel path ahead of the two of you.

”Oops, sorry if my answer offended you." You apologized, “Im sure you are probably pretty enough to be given—“

”(Name)”

You looked to your side in confusion, only seeing her with a coy smile on her lips her eyes never meeting you once.

”Just be looking out,” she mumbled.

The sea witch is always watching.

-

The next morning, you awoke not expecting much; it was a weekend, meaning you were free to go back down to the misty ocean below past the forest and down the slope where you lived.

Recoiling and grabbing your foot to make sure it wasn't bleeding was when you looked down to find the source of the cut now stinging harshly on the bottom of your foot.

Only as you unceremoniously stepped out the door to your small home beginning your benign routine instead was followed a sharp cut straight through your bare foot.

For a moment you were numb until the sharp end of whatever was beneath your foot fell off.

You assumed at first it was one of the shells you had left a few days ago on your doorstep, only to discover that you had forgotten it when you went back inside the other day just now.

But when you picked it up to give the intricate bundle of shells a closer look, you realized it couldn't have been any shell you'd found—the way the shells were fused together created a small ornamental piece that was most likely not formed naturally.

The shells being also too massive for you to have found on the shoreline reminded you of shells you'd heard were at the bottom of the ocean near the reefs; again unnatural for your receeding shoal you picked from.

Turning it around to look at the back made a soft jingling from where the porous shells were tied using some kind of plant you had never seen near by.

Just like the rumored brooch would.

Turning the shells once more your eyes widen when you saw the small, intricate deep sea pearls tied around the shells at the bottom, creating an iridescent shine that inflected any light the sun rays hit.

Quickly dropping the brooch on the doorstep you looked around, You knew no one would have seen what had occurred considering how far you lived off the grid, the fear of accidentally being seen and being jailed for touching the mythical brooch was not in your plans today.

Staring in awe at the brooch for a while after settling down, the realization that no one had ever seen it before unless you were the recipient reminded you of how special the small palm sized relic was.

Your heart was wildly beating before now with fear was beginning to calm down.

Limping on your way, you looked at the entrance besides the side of your connected house's own small enterance way. They were very close to each other, two footsteps away from each other at the very least you deduced.

Maybe the pelican got confused and delivered it to your entrance, thinking your house was your roommate's...

That's it; the pelican delivered the brooch to the wrong door you sighed to yourself.

It wouldn't be a crime to deliver it to its rightful owner now.

Bending over, you scooped the brooch up carefully, holding it in your cupped hands. Hobbling down the rocky sediment around your yard to avoid being seen, you made it to the other entrance where your roommate lived, the lively garden she had blooming to life as you passed by the different vegetation she had nearby.

Dropping it as carefully as you could on the stone entryway, you left it in the middle of her doorstep.

Without hesitation or another word, you left, going back on your journey to the sea below to collect shells.

-

It was around the early evening when you went back home to make dinner that you saw the crowds around your house.

your roommate in the middle of the immense crowd, all in a daze over the brooch on her wrist as she showed all of the gawking women and children around her.

”I knew she’d be the last bride of the sea witch.”

”The sea witch must really love her if he added that many pearls to it.”

”Of course he’d pick a young maiden, it means we’ll have a fertile crop season this year.” 

You felt your heart sink a little. Despite not having any interest in being a bride, it still hurt to know you weren't as beautiful to be picked to be the last Pearl bride of the great sea witch.

Instead of retiring for the day, you went back out to the slope with your dinner in the hopes you could find some rare shells to sell in town for the ceremony.

Despite your dull heartache, you gave congratulations to your roommate before you went inside to make your dinner.

Which like most things that would bother you, your doubts and self loathing disappeared as you made your meal for the evening of crisp fish and potatoes and vegetable bake.

Little did you notice the mismatched eyes blending in with the throngs of people; watching, as you trekked on the trail you always took away to the coastline.

Nevertheless, you went through the various obstacles including masses of rock and trees, a few different sandbanks that were revealed by the low tide. Reaching the base of the tall rocky shelves and doing some careful hiking down, you went about your usual walk: starting from the cliffs all the way down the peninsula in search of shells that would fetch a high price.

Letting your toes be soaked in the crystal blue water, you let the sea foam gather around as you sifted through the sand in search of anything new.

You walked over the squishy sand in pursuit of whatever was in the water, hoping it wouldn't move once it sensed you.

It was only when the golden hour began was then that you noticed that beyond the receding water was something further out in the rocky seabed besides you.

At first, you could only see the darkness like a shadow in the water; small specks of luminescence filled the spot that was catching your attention.

As you approached the dark spot, it slowly began to rise from the water, eyes of a clear glacier looked back at you in the water.

After a few footsteps too close, slited eyes focused on you, almost as if it were trying to recognize you.

The shadow in the water began to grow, making the everclear water seem inky with blooms of obsidans.

You backed up.

It only crept closer to you.

With adrenaline coursing through your veins, you ran carefully, dodging the rocky sands in the water and making it to shore.

Not daring to turn back, you climbed a lone stone wall to get to the top of the cliff.

When it felt like you were safe from whatever that thing was in the water, you turned back to the sandbar. It wasn't as if you could see that far if the creature was still in the rocky shoals. A few hyperventilated breaths, you made the agonizing walk back through the now crowded forest leading to your safe haven.

-

As the day approached for the pearl bride to be received at the festival the village threw, You were reminded of the ceremony every time you stepped out.

Either finding shipwrecked treasure or different pearls and sea glass where you had previously found the pearl brooch from a few weeks ago.

Repeating the process with a dull heartache, you would grab them and return them to your roommate's doorstep before going out to fulfill your quota for the week.

After all, you were hoping the masses attending the festival would bring new revenue to you since almost everyone from the island and a few from beyond would come just to see the Venus be given away.

You were about to walk out early in the morning to avoid the throngs of people at your roommate's door praying to just miss the whole occasion until she called out amongst the crowd for you to be one of the few that would escort her to the ceremonial grounds. 

And finally today was the day you will be reminded of the event when you watch the townspeople take her away, decorated in frills and lace with adorning pearls, looking like a Venus in a shell.

The sudden attention from several men and women made you agree, as you took a spot behind her besides a few of the other people holding her dress and veil.

Quietly following behind the crowd as they sang praises and songs in case the Benevolent Sea Witch could hear them as they got their bride ready.

For living in the town your whole life, though youd never witnessed one of these ceremonies, only ever being occupied looking at the different vendors and stalls of food that would come from all over the island to celebrate the Sea Witch.

As you all approached the harbor, walking down the steep and uneven cliffside you had both lived on for several years unbothered, you could begin to see the many people line the streets eagerly waiting to see a glimpse of the Venus bride, She walked with a slow gait, letting the dress pool around her slim figure, shining like fish scales with every step she took on the sandstone road leading to the harbor's mouth.

You felt bad not being able to see the importance of this festival as the people around you did, but most of your thoughts were revolving around how fast you could make it back home with the few shells you had collected for the week to try to peddle off after the bride would be received.

Suddenly, you felt yourself go off balance. Looking around your surroundings, everyone around you also followed your lead. 

The ground was shaking.

The witch was arising from the depths.

Everyone began to enthusiastically pick up the pace, holding the bride's clothes to make sure she wouldn't get dirty from the kicked up dust before meeting her betrothed.

Approaching the harbor's mouth, you could see even more people gathered there around the harbor ropes, eager to get a glimpse of the water and the bride.

Looking in the crowd, you saw your friend, her mismatched eyes accidentally meeting yours.

Your breath hitched when you saw beside her—well, what seemed to be her, the same teal hair and the same dark black stripe in her hair, They both looked at you in silent interest as you and the precession walked past her.

Deciding it wasn't worth it to think too much about it, you began to focus on the seascape before you. The aftershocks meant the sea witch was finally arising from the depths.

“She’s ready,” a villager from the front said.

You all, in unison, let go of her clothing, stopping a few meters away from the decorated area where the ceremony would take place. You could see a little bit past the throngs of people, her walk a slow and elegant gait; a befitting walk for a Sea queen, towards the ceremonial ground as you all stood in awe, watching for her to take her place.

Looking up at the sky, you noticed the clear and sunny sky seemed to waver a bit—not exactly cloudy and stormy, but the sky was turning a light shade grey maming the sky seem muted.

A rumble shook you once again, causing you to fight to stay upright as a mass of darkness began to form in the crystal waters ahead of you.

“He’s here!”

“The Benevolent Sea Witch”

A few people began to run to the waterfront and stop to bow in respect.

You stayed with a few other spectators, watching the bride eagerly fix her hair in anticipation.

The first thing you saw was that the dark, meaty tentacle rose from the water.

Then it was followed by six more monstrous-sized tentacles.

It was when he rose that you felt yourself gasp.

But the sea witch did not say a word, only scanning the crowd before resting his eye on the ceremonial grounds in front of him.

The monstrous entity looked around the crowds of people praising him.

Half man; Half mer.

His Striking otherwordly blue hues focused below him at his subjects.

A noise was made that sounded like gargling or clicking—you weren't entirely sure—before he crawled closer to the harbor, opening ever so slowly.

Your eye was caught by the huge nauctulus shell around his neck, which was shining gold.

It reminded you of the few shells you found littered around your doorstep.

His many tentacles eventually came into clearer view as he began to lift the two that you presumed acted as his second pair of arms began to slither on the sandstone towards the shell.

“your highness”

The tentacles stopped slithering.

“Im afraid your people have tried to deceive you,my lord.”

You felt someone grab both of your arms from behind. 

Wildly trying to flail out of the grasp, you soon felt them tugging you towards the monstrous being looking down straight at you.

Or who was behind you.

Your weird friend was walking before the monstrous being, who was staring with icy-slit hues.

“Your endless sea is right here.”

You flinched as they threw you down on the ground, only a few meters in front of the huge tentacles.

Too scared to look up, you only looked besides you to see your friend and her double beside and behind you. Your roommate confused as she stood with the veil and brooch on her intricate dress looking at your cornered self.

A loud rumble resounded above you; the sky was not a dark and angry one; rain seemed imminent.

“You dare lie to me.”

A powerful timbre spoke from what seemed to be everywhere.

A tentacle began to rise and violently swipe at the harbor ropes where everyone was gathered, many people being violently tossed in either direction, some hitting into buildings while a mass of unlucky ones were thrown into the deep frigid harbor below.

“She had the brooch of our almighty.”

“The gifts were laid on their doorstep.”

“Please have mercy on our mistake.”

You were still trying to absorb the scene laid out for you in front of the harbor opening, but you failed to notice the large tentacle start to slither and writhe towards where you were being held against your will.

The cold, suctioned tentacle began to wrap around your waist, attaching to your skin.

It twitched around you before it grasped hard around your waist, causing you to yell.

“This is my bride,” the voice boomed once more.

You felt yourself being lifted from the ground, everyone around you shrinking into colorful dots as your familiar land became distant.

Little did you know this was the last time you’d seen the village you lived your whole life in.

Waves of torrential size rose from the now-dark and raging waters before they swallowed everything and everyone you knew.

Watching the punishment of a divine being was the worst thing to have witnessed.

And it was your last memory before you were engulfed in your beloved sea, and your life before being crowned the benevolent sea witch's wife and Queen of the depths.

-

Note: oh man the temptation to make this an actual fic fic haha.

also forgot but requested on Ao3 by a guest <3

[blakeswritingimagines]

Yesterday Seems So Far Away

Summary: Tactics and Whims in the midst of an impending war don't quite work out unless you're a throuple.

Word count: 8.3k

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Rhaenyra is sitting by a room window, staring out into a dark night, lost in her thoughts. She is clearly troubled. Her heart had been hurt countless times, and she felt like her life was spiraling out of control. She heard the door open, and she turned her head. She smiled but quickly realized that it was not one of her advisors coming to visit her with news of victories across the Seven Kingdoms. It was you and Daemon. Daemon looked at the woman before him, the two he had given his heart to and was willing to do whatever he could to protect his wives. His thoughts were in a mix as he witnessed the troubled expression and wondered what was wrong. His eyes followed her gaze, and he saw nothing but the darkness of the night outside the room. He was curious as to what had her troubled and asked softly as he sat by her side. “What is troubling you, my love..?” He asked, placing his hand on hers. “Dear, tell us what’s bothering you?” You softly asked.

Rhaenyra slowly sighed and looked at you both, her eyes were full of unshed tears. "I am worried about everything." She whispered quietly. Rhaenyra couldn't really put her feelings into words. The world seemed so fragile, and the weight of her responsibilities was overwhelming her. She was trying to make the right choices and keep everyone safe, but it just seemed like everything was falling apart. She felt like she couldn't trust anyone, and that everyone had a secret agenda. Her heart was heavy with stress and fear. The prince listened to her speak quietly. He could already tell that her stress had her mentally and physically exhausted. He was beginning to understand her thoughts, but he didn’t wish for her to feel that way. The crown was a dangerous thing that could easily swallow a person, and he could tell that was what was about to happen to Rhaenyra. “Shhh, quiet now..” Daemon whispered, stroking her soft blonde hair. “Do not let the world get to you.” He said, gently taking her into his arms. Daemon placed a comforting hand on her cheek and looked at her with eyes full of love. It was one of the worst things to see either of his wives troubled by stress. The last thing he wanted was for you two to have to suffer. “My love, listen to me, you’re doing everything you can to keep the kingdoms safe, and I’m so proud of you for that. We are always here for you, no matter what may come.” You told her softly with a reassuring smile, your hand still placed on her cheek.

Early the next morning, you were sitting on the edge of the bed, having just woken up next to Rhaenyra and Daemon. You yawned and stretched but didn't move too much so as not to disturb your partners. The events of the previous day were still fresh in your mind and you couldn't help but worry about her. Rhaenyra was always a strong woman, but you could see that she was carrying so much weight, and you hated seeing her like that. You knew that the crown must be heavy, especially now during the dance of dragons. Rhaenyra was sitting at her desk, trying to focus on the map of the Seven Kingdoms laid out before her. She was tracing her fingers across the coastlines of the Realm, studying it and trying to plan out their next move. She was clearly still consumed by her worries and responsibilities. You could see this and came up behind her, pressing a hand on Rhaenyra's shoulder.

Jacaerys and Lucerys entered the room, giving Rhaenyra a small bow. As they approached her, she could see that they looked nervous and worried. They didn't say anything, as they waited for her to speak. She immediately felt their anxiety but tried not to show it. "Is there anything you would like to tell me?" Rhaenyra asked with a soft smile. She tried to hide her own worries and fears and to be strong for her sons. Jacaerys and Lucerys exchanged a look before Lucerys spoke to her, his tone was nervous yet sincere. "We wish to volunteer to go and gather more allies…" Lucerys gulped, hesitant to say the next words. He held his breath and waited for a reply from her. Jacaerys and Lucerys looked at each other nervously again, before turning their attention back to their mother. Jacaerys spoke up finally, his voice steady as he was confident in this choice. “We have decided to go and forge alliances on our own. We have discussed it between ourselves, and we have decided to go to Storm's end and the North.” He said, speaking quickly and nervously. His eyes were fixed on everyone, waiting for a reaction.

You could feel something about Lucerys going to Storm's End, like a premonition or a bad feeling. You couldn't quite pinpoint what it was, but something about it just felt off. You decided to trust your instincts and speak up. You walked closer to Rhaenyra, wanting to pull her aside and speak with her privately. You whispered in your wife’s ear, “I have a bad feeling about Lucerys going to Storm’s End. Something just doesn't feel right about it.” Your voice was soft, yet filled with a mixture of worry and concern. You didn't want Rhaenyra to overreact, but you also felt like you had to speak up and say something. "I trust him," Rhaenyra whispered, giving your hand a squeeze as she leaned in to speak. Something about going to Storm's End just didn't feel right, but she tried to push those thoughts away. She had always taught her sons to be strong and confident, and she didn't want to undermine that by showing her own doubts. She also trusted Jacaerys to look out for his brother, and she was confident in their abilities to forge the alliances they needed.

Rhaenyra slowly turned her head to stare at Lucerys. Her face was solemn she knew that you had a good gut instinct, and she also knew that she shouldn’t ignore your concerns. She spoke carefully, trying to choose her words carefully. “But if you really feel that Lucerys shouldn’t go, then you have a good reason. Tell them. I will make adjustments in our plan.” A few more months had passed, with the tide of war slowly shifting in the Black's favor having intercepted the supplies to the Green capital. The news that came through the reports filled the couple with a sense of relief, knowing that the efforts were paying off. Rhaenyra can't help but allow herself a small smile as news of the victories comes in. The war is still far from over, but the tide is slowly turning in her favor. Having managed to intercept the supplies going to King's Landing, preventing them from reaching the Green base of operation. This means that the Green forces are stretched thin and they have a disadvantage on both land and sea. The Queen feels a sense of relief wash over her, knowing that everything is making progress. She can only hope this continues.

"I'm glad to hear about our victories. But I must admit, I'm worried about the common people. I know that we're fighting for the Throne and the Seven Kingdoms, but I can't help but think about all those people dying. And all those who lost their homes and loved ones… It breaks my heart. Do you have any idea what we can do to help them… to alleviate their suffering?" You ask your partners with a genuine concern in your voice. Rhaenyra sighs deeply as she hears your genuine concern. She understood the concern about the innocent lives caught in the crossfire of the war, it breaks her heart too. She knows that there is little that can be done now, but once winning the Crown, she intends to do as much as she can to rebuild the kingdom and help those who have suffered. "I wish there was more we could do, but for now we have to focus on fighting this war. We will rebuild when it is over, I promise." The Queen replies solemnly.

Daemon paused as he listened to your words, and a solemn expression quickly covered his face as he thought about the innocent people suffering the most from the war. He listened to you, his hands clasping your shoulder as he stared at you with a thoughtful look in his eyes as he spoke. "We have to win the war, that is the only way to stop the suffering of our subjects, that's the best way to help them." He paused for a beat before a pained expression crossed his face, "We cannot allow the Greens to win." Rhaenyra looks at you thoughtfully as you suggest doing more than their part. She appreciates the concern but also the initiative taken to help the common folks. The Queen sees the value in your efforts. Despite the war they are fighting, the Realm is still their responsibility and they must look out for the people within it. Despite not being able to act on it currently, Rhaenyra is open to exploring possible ways for them to help the common people during times of war.

Although the war has brought about great losses and suffering to the people of the Seven Kingdoms, you were determined to help them in any way you could. Over the next few weeks, you dedicated yourself to providing aid and support for the common folk, who have been hit hard by the conflict. You arrange for food and supplies to be sent to villages and towns throughout the land, providing relief for those who have been struggling as a result of the hostilities. Your efforts gain the recognition and appreciation of many of the locals and even win some of them to Rhaenyra's side. Daemon was glad to hear the news of how you were helping the common people, they were the ones taking the brunt of the war and needed all the help they could get. He had heard of how the locals were praising your actions and felt pride swell in his chest as he watched his love doing good for the people. In the weeks that followed, Daemon would join you in some of your efforts, doing all in his power to help the innocent people of the Seven Kingdoms. Both of you making sure not to let a single person go unhelped.

You paused as your thoughts were interrupted by a sudden feeling ill and your stomach had a sharp pain. This sudden sickness had struck you by surprise, and you could feel the nausea overwhelming you. You felt weak and felt the room begin to spin around you as you gripped your stomach. Both Rhaenyra and Daemon were immediately concerned when they noticed your sudden illness. Both were quick to your side and taking your hand, gently stroking it as Rhaenyra looked at you with worried eyes. "My love, what is it? Are you feeling alright? Rhaenyra said with a concerned look on her face, clearly worried for your well-being. You groaned as the nausea became overwhelming, and you gripped your stomach tighter while letting out a small cough. You managed to raise your head to look at both of them, your eyes were heavy and you looked washed out. A small sweat on your forehead, you attempted to smile at the two of them, but your efforts was in vain as you felt more ill. Daemon was by your side watching closely, his eyes filled with concern for your well-being. He placed a hand on your forehead briefly, and could feel your body burn up. "I-I'm fine."

The Queen was quick to notice the symptoms that you were experiencing. Your body temperature felt hot to the touch, along with the sweat and cough were signs enough that you weren't well. She glanced over to Daemon, their worried faces were telling enough. They knew you weren't okay. "My love, you are not fine," Rhaenyra said with concern in her voice. "Let us go see a maester about this." You nodded weakly, as you grasped tightly onto Rhaenyra's hands for the support you needed. You could barely stand up on your own, your legs were shaky and you felt as if you would faint. Despite your weakness, there was no denying how ill you were, and a maester was the only answer. Daemon supported you on one side, his hand tightly grasping yours. Rhaenyra gently wrapped her arm around you, while Daemon supported you on your other side to hold you up while they walked her to the maester's quarters. Both of your partners were concerned to see the state that you were in, it was clear that you were very ill and needed medical care. In the moments it took them to travel there, the Queen spoke softly to you. "My love, stay with me. I am right here, nothing will happen to you."

Daemon's hand grasped yours tightly as they led you through the halls, taking you toward the Grand Maester's office. As they reached the office, the Grand Maester stepped towards you, his expression concerned as he observed the condition you found yourself in. "What seems to be the problem, my Lady?" The Grand Maester asked, his eyes scanning the three of them, before narrowing at you. "Our wife has fallen ill, but we don't know with what," Daemon said, his voice serious as he watched the Grand Maester's expression. He could tell that the man's concern mirrored their own, the expression on his face was enough for him to know. You remained quiet next to him, letting out a small cough, while still clinging onto the Queen's hand. You smiled weakly as the maester approached, Rhaenyra's grip on your hands had given you some form of comfort, you were thankful that you could be able to lean on Daemon and Rhaenyra when you needed it most. Daemon's presence by your side was also a comfort, knowing that he was beside you, keeping his presence close. The maester's words alerted all of them in a quick motion, and Daemon spoke up again. "She doesn't feel well, she is nauseous and feels like she couldn't stand on her own," Daemon explained for you.

"I see." The Grand Maester's expression remained serious, observing your demeanor as you clung to your partners. His eyes darted from you to Daemon. When Daemon explained the symptoms you were experiencing, the Grand Maester sighed, before nodding to himself, as if something had just fallen in place. "May I speak with her in private, please?" The Grand Maester requested. Daemon and Rhaenyra both looked at you with concern, yet neither said anything as they awaited your response. Despite the feeling of nausea, you forced yourself to nod as the Grand Maester asked to speak with you privately. Your lips curved upward, and a weak smile was still possible on your face. You had a feeling of what the maester was going to say but decided to let him say it, you would not deny any help you were offered at this point.

The Grand Maester led you to a secluded room, away from Rhaenyra and Daemon. They all sensed the possible nature of the subject the Maester might bring up but remained silent as the two entered the room. The Grand Maester motioned for you to sit on one of the seats in the room, his look was sympathetic. "Now, dear Lady, I must ask you some questions." The Maester began, his tone was kind and patient. You sat on one of the chairs, feeling even more dizzy and ill than before, your mind was a blur and you could barely think straight. The room seemed to spin once more, and you thought you might faint. You gripped the sides of the chair, to keep still, and glanced up at the maester, feeling yourself getting tired. "Of course." You said to the maester in a small voice of your fatigue, your breath coming out in shallow rasps. The Grand Maester studied the condition you were in, with signs of nausea, weakness and fatigue. He sensed the possibility of one specific diagnosis given your symptoms. It was a diagnosis that they were all hoping it wasn't true right now, but deep down, they knew it could possibly that. "My Lady…" The Maester began again. "When was the last time you had your moon's blood?"

You paused for a moment, struggling to recollect your memories, it was all a bit of a blur to you due to the large fight taking place. You were exhausted at this point, even thinking was taking a toll on you. But you remembered, it had been a while since you had last had your moon's blood, far too long than it should have been. "I don't remember exactly, but it has been some time. Why?" You asked the maester with a faint look of confusion, feeling the weakness wash over you. The Grand Maester knew that he had his answer. His expression turned somber and his voice lowered to a somber tone. He didn't want to deliver the news, but someone had to. The Maester could only see the sorrowful and concerned faces when he revealed the truth. "Dear Lady," He began again. "My guess is that there might be a possibility that you are with a child. Do not lose hope, however, my Lady, my examination was not definite. I shall perform some tests and will confirm it."

When the Grand Maester emerged from the small room when the tests were done, his expression was grim, and the faces of Daemon and Rhyraena were also somber. Daemon was watching the maester with a keen eye, he was still on high alert, but he knew deep down the maester would confirm what he already feared. "The Lady of Dragonstone is pregnant with a child." The Maester spoke, and both Daemon and Rhaenyra remained silent as if they were still unable to accept it. They had suspected as much, but the confirmation made it even more real for them. The tense atmosphere remained, as they remained with the silent news for a few moments. Daemon took the lead again, as he took a step toward the Grand Maester. "How far along is she?" He asked with a solemn expression, his eyes fixed on the Maester. The Grand Maester looked back to Daemon, he saw the genuine concern and care for his partner in his eyes. Despite the severity of the situation, he had a sense of understanding that Daemon and Rhaenyra wanted to be there for their wife during the pregnancy. The Maester was quick to give your partners the information he found of your pregnancy. "She is about three months along, we can say she is halfway there." the Maester answered in a serious tone that matched Daemon's as he kept his gaze low.

The two of them entered the room with a sense of quietness to them, both of them were filled with concern and worry, and their steps were gentle as they walked towards you. You were no doubt in a fragile state of your pregnancy and their presence could only be a form of comfort to you at this point. Their eyes scanned the room as they approached, the room was quiet except for your soft breathing. You were still seated in one of the chairs in the room, you were clearly in a fragile state given your exhaustion and nausea. You kept your breaths slow and deep, you could still feel some nausea, but the feeling was slowly beginning to lessen. You could hear Daemon and Rhaenyra slowly approaching, their presence alone was enough to calm you down. Your eyes met theirs as they approached, you took note of the worry in their eyes and the gentleness with which they treated you. You were grateful for their presence. Each of you was filled with worry and concern, the pregnancy felt more real than ever - which was a blessing, but the thought of bearing a child under such circumstances was both a blessing and a curse. Your thoughts were mixed, and your mind was still foggy from the news. "I don't wish anyone to find out yet."

The two of them could feel the fatigue and discomfort that which you were facing, and so they remained a good distance from you, trying to avoid causing you any discomfort. Daemon understood the concern about the news being released to the world, so he did not want to rush into releasing the news so soon. He knew you were still in a delicate place, and wanted to ensure your well-being. Rhaenyra spoke gently to you. "We understand, no one shall learn the news until you are feeling better, we will tell no one our news." She said with a reassuring smile. "We would never tell anyone about this, your secret is safe with us," Daemon replied to you, your concern was evident through your expression and his voice held a level of kindness as he spoke, Daemon knew the stress and exhaustion that came with the news and decided to try and calm you down. The Greens were bound to know the news, after all, the Grand Maester could not keep such a thing hidden for long. This news had been leaked to the Greens, and then it had spread like wildfire across the Seven Kingdoms, and the Green faction had all the more reason to oppose you now. The people loved that you three were having a child, especially in this situation. Your pregnancy was seen as a blessing by the little people, the Greens hated it, but the small folks were praising it.

The small folk praised the pregnancy, not only for the reason that it was a blessing for you, Rhaenyra, and Daemon's marriage, but also because it symbolized the new era and new hope that would come with the child. The small folk would stand by the Black side, for you were the ones offering hope and prosperity to the common people. You were aware that Greens would oppose your pregnancy, but they could not deny its potential and the possibility of a new hope it brought with it. The child carried within you would change the entire scope of the conflict. The Greens are clearly dissatisfied with the news, in fact, the Greens find themselves completely appalled at the news. The knowledge of a child only made it more certain that they would oppose the Blacks, for this would be an outright declaration to crown Rhaenyra as Queen.

Otto attempts to sway the people back to their side, he tries everything to sway them away from the Blacks. However, the people were unwavering in their devotion to your pregnancy, and the Blacks, did not heed his words and simply ignored Otto. The Black supporters would have their devotion to the Blacks further confirmed, and would find themselves even more set in their choice to defend your pregnancy and support the Blacks. Larys would mention that he had a possible spy named Ada, which was no secret, as everyone knew about his network of spies across the seven kingdoms. He would go on to further mention how he was able to influence the thoughts of people and alter their views possiably, using this method to his advantage he would propose using the spy to sway some of the people's favor. He would offer his services to Otto as the two planned on how to combat the growing support for the Blacks and the unborn child.

Ada had infiltrated one of the inns near Dragonstone where the Black's supporters would often gather to exchange information and show their support for the Black's cause. The spy observes the people of the inn, noting down the conversations and thoughts, and listening to the concerns and what the perceptions of the Greens were. Particularly watching out for any whispers or conversations concerning your pregnancy, and how the common people felt about it. She would report all the findings back to Otto. During the next few weeks, the spy worked late into the night in the kitchens, before slipping some poison into the tea secretly, she managed to do it discreetly, slipping it inside the cup of tea that she had learned was part of your nightly routine without anyone suspecting anything. Delivering it to you before being dismissed for the night just to quickly leave without a second thought. You were feeling quite a bit better after resting for a while, you had no more nausea and the feeling of exhaustion was slowly beginning to lessen slightly. However, you still felt a little weak, the fatigue was still evident in your expression. You were currently sitting on one of the chairs in your shared room, trying to remain comfortable as you did so. You were not feeling as terrible as before but were still in a fragile state.

You had drank the tea given to you, unaware of the poisonous properties, and slowly you were suffering from the effects of the poison slowly spreading throughout your body. You began to experience discomfort and nausea again, with chills beginning to set in. You began to feel weak and lightheaded, and your fatigue became more profound. Rhaenyra and Daemon would find you sick and in an almost unconscious state, the pregnancy had weakened you already, and now the poison made things worse. Rhaenyra and Daemon's faces both turned grim, and their expressions grew solemn as they saw your fragile state of health when they entered the room. The exhaustion and fatigue were evident within you, along with the slight nausea and chills that were setting in. Your weak and lightheaded state caused greater concern for both of them, the pregnancy had already been taking its toll on you, and they feared what might happen to you and the unborn child. "We have to get the grandmaester right away," Daemon spoke firmly, taking note of your state. He could see the sudden sickness taking root and growing stronger and stronger, and the more time it had, the worse the effects would become. His words seemed to indicate that he had a gut feeling about how serious this could be, and a sense of urgency began to manifest in him.

They both knew they needed a Maester, to examine and attend their partner. Both Daemon & Rhaenyra frantically ordered a Grandmaester to come immediately. It was their worst fear realized, but they had to act quickly. You and the unborn child were suffering from the effects, they could not afford to lose you both. The order for a Maester had been heeded, and the Grand Maester soon entered the room and moved towards you. Daemon and Rhaenyra remained aside as the Maester examined you, they were both still in a state of panic, they prayed the Grand Maester would have good news for them, that he would be able to save you and the unborn child. Their hope remained that a maester would have knowledge that could cure you without harming the child. Both you and the baby meant the world to them. The Grand Maester examined you, observing your symptoms of fatigue, exhaustion, weakness, nausea and chills. The poison was slowly taking hold of your body and was the most likely culprit of your current condition, the poison was spreading in your system at rapid pace. The Grand Maester, in all of his knowledge, knew that the poison was not an easy matter to deal with, but he had to find a way to cure it without harming you or the babe. Knowing your safety and well-being was foremost in everyone's mind, most importantly in the minds of Rhaenyra and Daemon.

The Grand Maester worked immediately to counteract the poison, attempting to find an antidote or remedy that could neutralize it enough without harming you or your child. The curing process was risky and difficult, especially given the fragility of their partner and the pregnancy, so the Grand Maester had to be extra cautious to not make the effects worse. Rhaenyra and Daemon watched in silence, their eyes were fixed on the Grand Maester with intensity as the process took place. Their expressions were stoic yet worried, trying to keep strong for not only you but also their unborn child. The Grand Maester's efforts to counteract the poison continued for what seemed like ages. He worked tirelessly, monitoring both you and the unborn child's health to ensure the safety was not further compromised. After a significant period, he finally managed to find an antidote that effectively counteracted the poison's effects. He proceeded to administer the remedy, carefully observing your condition and waiting to see the impact it had on your health and the baby's.

The Grand Maester managed to find an effective antidote that helped counter the effects of the poison, allowing you to begin to recover. It took time, and the Grand Maester had to monitor your condition closely, making sure the antidote did not have any adverse effects. Daemon and Rhaenyra remained present in the room, watching intently as you began to show signs of recovery. Rhaenyra's expression relaxed, her tense demeanor from before had eased somewhat and she seemed more hopeful. As your condition improves, Rhaenyra realizes the need to find out what happened and how the poison ended up in your tea. She looks at Daemon and quietly speaks to him. "My love, we need to find out how this happened. Find out who put poison in our dearest's tea. The culprit must be found and brought to justice. Daemon nodded his head, knowing the gravity of the situation. He understood the need to get to the bottom of it.

Daemon nodded in agreement as he listened to Rhaenyra's words, he knew she was right. They needed to find out what happened and who was responsible for putting poison in their partner's tea. His expression hardened as he considered the gravity of the situation. He knew what needed to be done…the culprit needed to be found and brought to justice, and he was determined to do just that. "I'll find out who did this," Daemon said sternly as he locked eyes with Rhaenyra, his determination and anger were evident in his voice.

The atmosphere was tense as the Black Council gathered, the events that had taken place left an uneasy feeling over the group that lingered in the air. No one could deny the gravity that loomed over them as they all assembled, some faces looked tired, some still held an expression of anger and some showed relief. The Black Council had gathered amidst the storm of chaos, their conversations now held an air of importance. Rhaenyra sat at the head of the Black Council table, her expression stoic and filled with a sense of authority. She surveyed the group and the faces of her trusted council members, she could see the varying emotions on their faces as they sat before her. From the tired expressions to the ones full of anger and relief. Her eyes flicked between each and every one of them, waiting to hear their reports on the current situation.

As you made your entrance into the room, the atmosphere was immediately filled with an air of solemnness and tension. Though you were supposed to be resting, you couldn't stay away as you were compelled by guilt for what happened. The coldness and detachment in your expression didn't go unnoticed as you joined the Black Council, and Daemon and Rhaenyra, despite being relieved that you looked better, were concerned about your behavior and well-being. Despite your exhaustion and the recent events that had taken place, was present and sat between Daemon and Rhaenyra at the table. Your expression was cold and distant as you looked over the other members of the Black Council, your eyes lacked the warmth that was usually present. Your gaze was firm and determined, but there was a sense of pain lingering beneath the surface.

Daemon moved toward you, his expression filled with concern. He knew you were supposed to be resting, but here you were, showing up to the Black Council meeting and acting cold. He could tell you felt guilty for what had happened, and it was clear you needed rest and time to recover, but he knew you felt compelled to be here as well. He gently took hold of your arm, attempting to pull you aside for a moment. Seeing the cold expression on your face and the firmness in your eyes, Daemon couldn't help but immediately go to you, he reached out and gently grasped your arm, his voice filled with genuine concern. "Darling…you should be resting," he said gently, looking at you as if pleading with you, trying to persuade you to let them take care of things. You looked up at Daemon for a brief moment, your gaze softening for a moment. You understood his concern for you and the baby, you could see it in his eyes. Despite the firmness on your face, you couldn't help but feel the need to be here in the Black Council meeting even in your weakened state. You nodded your head in acknowledgment of Daemon's words of concern, but you gently placed your hand on his, silently reassuring him that you wanted to be here before you sat down. Your tone filled with a fierce sense of determination to be in the meeting. Your words were sharp, leaving no room for debate. "I will rest when the matter is handled. Until then, I will need to be here. Please do not fret over me, my love," you said firmly to him, your voice filled with a certain authority.

Daemon looked back at you with a mixture of concern and a reluctant acceptance. He could see the determination in your eyes, and he knew that nothing would change your mind. He nodded to you, reluctantly at first, but then with a sense of understanding. "Very well then," he said with a sigh, his eyes softening slightly as he took your hand in his. He understood how important this was to you, and he didn't want to add to your stress. Later on into the night as you lay there, sandwiched between Daemon and Rhaenyra, you could feel a mix of emotions swirling within you. The events of the day had been a rollercoaster of anxiety, concern, and uncertainty. However, being close to your partners, their bodies providing warmth and a sense of security, made you feel a little more at ease but couldn't seem to quiet your mind like normal causing you to get up carefully and step closer to the window. Daemon and Rhaenyra were both sleeping peacefully, oblivious to your turmoil. They seemed content, but you were too worried to sleep like they were, you had a weight on your shoulders, and it was keeping you up at night. Daemon stirred slightly as you stepped closer to the window, his eyes flickering open for a moment before he saw you standing alone. He silently sat up in bed, watching you with a look of concern.

Seeing you standing alone by the window, Daemon could feel the tension emanating from you. He slipped out of bed and approached you, his movements gentle and deliberate. He stood behind you with a sense of concern and understanding, his hand reaching out to touch your shoulder. "What's troubling you? Why can't you sleep?" Daemon asked you gently, his voice tinged with worry. He hated seeing you so troubled and wanted to help alleviate your pain if you'd let him. The feeling of Daemon's touch was grounding. You leaned into his touch, feeling a sense of comfort in his presence. You took a deep breath and turned your head slightly to look at him as you responded to his question. "It's the incident, the poison that was put in the tea… the thought that someone could do that to me, to us… it's troubling," you admitted softly, your voice laced with a hint of vulnerability. His expression darkened as you explained your worries about the incident and the poison. Daemon gently drew you closer to him, wrapping his arms around you in a protective embrace as a sense of anger and protectiveness took over his features. He hated it as much as you did, and he wanted nothing more than to shield you from any harm. "I know…I know," he said, holding you close, his voice filled with a mixture of sympathy and anger. "But I will not let anything come to you. Neither will Rhaenyra. We will keep you safe, I promise."

You allowed herself to be enveloped in his embrace, finding comfort in his protective hold. You nodded in understanding, knowing that Daemon and Rhaenyra's support and protection meant a lot to you. However, there was a flicker of a small, wry smile on your face as you responded softly. "I don't doubt your determination, my love," you said, your voice filled with affection, your eyes glinting with a hint of playfulness. "But… you do understand I'm not a damsel in distress. I can protect myself too, you know." Daemon couldn't help but chuckle at your words, his expression softening slightly as he felt a sense of admiration for your determination. He grinned as he replied, a note of affection in his voice. "Oh, darling, I know you can protect yourself. You're a force to be reckoned with, but let us take care of the problem, yes?" He reached out to caress your cheek, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and respect. "We just want to keep you safe. You and our child." Daemon couldn't help but chuckle softly as you spoke, acknowledging your determination and strength. He knew you were no damsel in distress, and he recognized your ability to take care of yourself. "I know you can protect yourself," he said with a wry smile, his eyes gleaming with admiration. "Yet I will always want to guard and protect you. Our enemies will rue the day they ever threatened you or our unborn child," he said, a touch of steel creeping into his voice.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you heard Daemon's reply. You reached up to place your hand over his, holding it against your cheek. "You do love being the knight rescuing the fair lady," you teased, your voice filled with affection and a hint of teasing. "Thank you, my love. I am lucky to have your protection," you added, a flicker of sincere appreciation shining in your eyes. Daemon chuckled at your remark, enjoying your teasing banter. He gently pressed a kiss to your cheek, a soft and tender gesture. "Aye, rescuing fair maidens is just one of many of my talents," he responded with a wry smile. His expression grew more serious as you thanked him for his protection. His eyes held a gentle and caring gaze as he looked at you, his hand squeezing yours softly. "And I'm always here to protect those I love. You and our unborn child are my priority." The atmosphere in the room suddenly shifted, becoming more intimate and serious. Your eyes locked onto Daemon's, a flicker of regret and sincerity shining through. "Daemon," you started, your voice low and sincere. "I want to apologize. For earlier, for distancing myself and being cold. I should have let you in more, and I'm sorry for not considering your feelings. You're more than just my lover; you're my partner, my confidant. And I value your support immensely."

Daemon's expression softened as he listened to your words, his gaze filled with a mix of understanding and affection. He could sense the sincerity behind your apology and the regret in your voice. "Darling…I appreciate your apology, and I accept it. I understand that you've been under a lot of stress and going through a lot. But please, from now on, let me in. Share your worries and thoughts with me. You are never a burden to Nyra or me, and I want to be there for you, just like you are for Rhaenyra and me," he said, his voice gentle and sincere. You felt a pang of guilt in your heart, knowing that your distance had affected your partners as well. You reached out and gently took his hand, intertwining your fingers. "I will. I promise. I'll try not to shut you out and keep everything inside. From now on, we'll face everything together, as a team."

The months had gone by, and your pregnancy proceeded smoothly. As the time drew closer to your due date, you were constantly checked and monitored by the Grand Maester, given how risky the poison had been for you and the baby. Rhaenyra and Daemon never left your side; their constant presence provided you with comfort and reassurance. As the day of childbirth approached, your contractions grew more intense, and soon enough, you were ushered into the birthing room by the midwife and Grand Maester. In the birthing room, the atmosphere was tense as the midwife and Grand Maester prepared you for childbirth. Daemon and Rhaenyra stood by your side, their hands tightly clutching yours as you went through each contraction, offering their support and doing everything they could to try and soothe your pain. He whispered words of encouragement, his voice filled with love and worry. You squeezed Daemon's hand tightly, your grip almost painful but he did not flinch. Rhaenyra took a wet towel and wiped your forehead gently, whispering words of encouragement and support as well. “You’re doing well, sweet girl,” Rhaenyra's voice was steady and calming. “Just breathe through it, just like we practiced.” Daemon winced slightly as you squeezed his hand tightly during the contraction but held strong, his gaze filled with a mix of worry and admiration for his love's strength.

"You're an absolute warrior, darling," he said to you tenderly, his voice filled with awe and pride. Rhaenyra continued to wipe your forehead with the warm towel, her whispered words of encouragement filling the room with a sense of reassurance and love. She whispered soothing words and guided you with her words, supporting you through each contraction. You took deep breaths, feeling the pain and contractions growing more intense. You gritted your teeth as you shook your head, your grip on Daemon's hand never faltering. "I… I don't know if I can do this. It’s too much…" you managed to gasp out, your voice filled with a hint of despair. Then, you let out a low groan as your body tensed with another painful contraction. As the contractions grew more intense, Daemon tightened his grip on your hand, his heart clenching in worry and solidarity. "You can do this," he spoke firmly, his gaze locked onto you. "You're one of the strongest people I know, and you've got this. Just a little bit longer," he said, his voice filled with determination and belief in your strength.

The Grand Maester observed your condition closely, the pain and exhaustion evident on your face. The contractions were growing in intensity, and he could tell the childbirth would be difficult and dangerous. He turned to Rhaenyra and Daemon, his voice filled with concern and caution. "My Queen, my Prince, I fear the baby is in distress and the contractions are growing too painful. We may need to consider a cesarean section to ensure the safe delivery of both the mother and the babe," the Grandmaster said cautiously. Hearing the suggestion, your eyes widened and flashed with a mix of fear and defiance. You vehemently shook your head and protested against it. "No... No, I refuse," you gasped out, your voice a mix of pain and determination. As the Grand Maester spoke, both Daemon and Rhaenyra immediately tensed, worry etched across their faces. Rhaenyra's grip on your hand tightened, Daemon's heart filling him with dread and anxiety. He glanced at Rhaenyra before turning back to you with a mixture of worry and understanding. "Darling, the Grand Maester only wants what's best for you and the baby," he said softly, his voice tinged with concern. "Please, darling. Let's consider all options to ensure a safe delivery."

After refusing the c-section, you insisted on giving birth naturally. You ordered the Grand Maester out of the room and had the midwives fill a warm tub with water. Once everything was prepared, you let yourself be helped into the water, your body finding a little relief from the pain as the water gently cradled you. You reached out for Daemon's hand, your grip tight, while Rhaenyra remained by your side, ready to support you. Daemon turned to you, his voice filled with love and worry. "My love, do you truly want to go through this without the Grand Maester's assistance? The risk…" Once you finally allowed yourself to get into the water, you felt a slight relief from the intense contractions as the warm water enveloped you. Your grip on Daemon's hand tightened further, squeezing it firmly as though seeking his strength through your own. Rhaenyra stayed by your side as well, her presence a silent comfort and support for you. The midwives had left the room, leaving the three of them alone. Daemon's voice, laced with worry, rang out as he questioned your decision.

You nodded your head resolutely, your eyes filled with determination and resolve. "Yes, Daemon," you said softly, your voice betraying your pain. "I want to try to do this without the Grand Maester's assistance. I trust you and Rhaenyra to help me through. I know the risk, but I have faith in us. We can do this together." As the hours passed and your contractions intensified, the pain becoming almost unbearable, you began to waver in your decision. "I… I don't know if I can do this, my love…" you gasped out, your voice filled with despair. Yet, you steeled yourself and shook your head, your expression determined. "But… I have to." Daemon squeezed your hand, his expression one of love and encouragement. "You can do it, my love. Just a little more. You're almost there." After what felt like an eternity, the room filled with the sound of a wailing baby. Rhaenyra carefully placed the newborn baby, a healthy baby girl with tufts of blonde hair, in your arms. Tired but relieved smiles spread across their faces as they witness the arrival of their child.

Daemon stared down at the newborn child in your arms, his eyes filled with a mixture of awe, wonder, and a profound sense of overwhelming love. He reached out, gently cradling the baby's head in his hand, his touch filled with tender adoration. His gaze flicked between the baby's face and yours, his heart swelling with an unquantifiable amount of love and pride. As the sound of the newborn's cry filled the room, a wave of relief washed over Daemon and Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra looked at you and the infant with a mixture of love and wonder in your eyes, your own exhaustion mixed with the radiant joy of a mother. Daemon's eyes widened in awe and pride, his fingers tracing gently over the baby's soft skin. "You did it, sweet girl," Daemon whispered tenderly to you, his voice filled with admiration and love. "She's…. perfect."

Tears streamed down your face as you held their newborn daughter in your arms, your expression filled with a mixture of exhaustion, joy, and awe. You looked up at Daemon and Rhaenyra, your voice filled with overwhelming emotions. "She's here… she… she's real." You whispered, your voice choked with tears. You held the precious baby girl in your trembling arms, feeling a well of love and joy, unlike anything you had ever experienced before. Rhaenyra's heart swelled with pure joy and love as she watched the tender scene unfolding before her. She gently placed a hand on your shoulder, her voice filled with tender contentment. "Yes… she's real, and she's beautiful," Rhaenyra spoke softly, her gaze flickering between you and the tiny bundle of joy they had brought into the world. Daemon's eyes softened as he watched the scene unfold, his heart filled with an inexplicable love and gratitude. He reached out and gently brushed a stray strand of damp hair away from your forehead, his touch tender and filled with affection. "She is real. She's ours," he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of warmth and a hint of awe. Rhaenyra leaned in closer, her own eyes gleaming with adoration and love as she gently wrapped her arms around you, creating a tight embrace.

As the three of them embraced, cherishing the precious moment together, Daemon leaned in close and whispered in your ear. "I am in awe of you, my love. Your strength, your determination… you're a force of nature. And now we have this beautiful, miraculous girl, all because of you. I will forever count myself lucky to have you ladies in my life." You leaned into the embrace, letting the exhaustion and joy wash over you. You were overwhelmed by the love and adoration that filled the room, the feeling of your family surrounding you creating an indescribable sense of fulfillment. You looked down at the newborn daughter, your eyes filled with love and wonder. You gently caressed the baby's soft cheek, your touch filled with a mother's tender adoration.

"I love you, sweet girl."

[froggibus]

Beach Day - Overwatch Women

Includes: D.VA, Mercy, Widowmaker, Mei, Kiriko, Brigitte & Junker Queen

Genre: fluff, some crack

Summary: spend a day at the beach w your favorite overwatch lady

CW: lots of sunscreen, mention of skin cancer (Mercy), some suggestive parts but nothing nsfw, drinking & alcohol, mentions of sharks, Kiriko is a brat (affectionate), rare Mitzi appearance

This is part of my Summer Suntacular event, come check it out!

D.Va:

beach gremlin

she has a giant collection of bathing suits & sunglasses that she never wears from doing brand deals

brings a portable speaker so she can blast her favorite summer tunes (much to the dismay of nearby groups)

you best believe she’s asking you to play mermaids

it is near impossible to get her out of the water or to reapply sunscreen

however PLEASE force her to apply sunscreen or else she’s going to turn into a lobster 

wants to have a contest for EVERYTHING

diving, swimming, sandcastles—everything is a challenge

the kids on the beach love her though & ask for a million pictures

she has a dork ass 2D pool floatie of Tokki that she refuses to swim without

you’ll have to bribe her with ice cream to get her out when it’s time to go

it WILL be a three scoop monstrosity of the weirdest flavour combos—like bubblebum, mint chocolate chip & orange 

she’ll want to have a beach themed movie marathon after but fall asleep twenty minutes into the first movie 

Mercy:

she is the beach volleyball PRO

always says she won’t get sucked into playing but ends up in some tournament (and WINS)

total stickler for sun protection—everyone is reapplying their sunscreen every 90 minutes

“I already put some on, I don’t need it”

“Skin cancer does not care.”

you could swear you’ve heard Baptiste say the same thing…

she’ll apply it for you in all the places you can’t reach though & expects you to do the same 

she has a super cute bikini BUT it’s hidden under board shorts and a rashguard (that she totally pulls off)

packs tons of yummy homemade snacks, sandwiches and enough water bottles for a small family

makes friends with the lifeguards on duty and offers them her water

mostly spends time reading on the towel but if you ask her, she’ll come into the water with you to cool off

longingly sighs and looks at those lounge beach floaties like it’s her long lost lover (please bring one for her next time)

she hates sand getting in her house so you’ll have to shower off as soon as you get back (but don’t worry, she’ll shower with you to make sure you’re extra clean)

Widowmaker:

she’ll only go if it’s a private beach, or somewhere more lowkey

she has a total soft spot for tropical cocktails served in plastic cups with swirly straws

somehow her cup is always full even when you swear it was empty a second ago

she mostly wants to lay on the sand and sunbathe, maybe listen to some music

she’s not brash enough to bring a speaker so she just listens to it with her headphones

only goes in the water to cool off, or if you ask her to

get her a pool floatie with a cupholder and you could keep her in the water all day

she’s the one on the lounge float that Mercy wanted

somehow her hair and makeup look perfect even when she’s been swimming

talks constantly about Ĉote D’Azur and the gorgeous beaches there

if you splash her at all (not recommended) she WILL retaliate to her fullest extent 

she’d never admit it but she secretly has fun playing in the water with you

promises to take you to the French Riviera next time you have a beach day

Mei:

nobody deserves a beach day more than her

she’s dragging you down there as soon as the sun rises and not leaving until way past sunset

has a HUGE pouch of different kinds of reef and eco friendly sunscreens that she forces you to apply

brings a book to read while she lounges in the sand and offers to share it with you if you’re bored

has a cute flamingo floatie with a cupholder so she can just drift along the coastline

brings you one of her spare floaties and ties the two of them together so you can float with her

she swears she left Snowball at home but as soon as her soda runs out he shows up with another one

he actually makes a pretty good waiter

even long after the sun goes down, she wants to float with you and relax

“It’s been so long since I’ve been to the beach…thank you.”

Kiriko:

no matter how many times you ask her or she promises not to

she WILL pretend to be a shark and almost get the beach closed and you guys kicked off

loves playing in the sand with the kids and helps them build a HUGE sandcastle

gives one (1) kid a piggyback ride through the water and has to spend the next hour giving piggyback rides

she has a cute donut floatie that looks like a bite is missing that she sprawls across

forces you to wear a hat in the sun, which ends up being an extra one of hers

so you’re walking around all day with a fox eared baseball cap on

oh and she’s also pounding back mudslides the whole day, so good luck with that

this mf is so lazy that when she wants another drink she just teleports there and scares everybody around to death

“you’re gonna give someone a heart attack doing that”

“good thing I’m a medic then”

you’re all doomed

Brigitte:

INSISTS on bringing Mitzi 

“babe he’s a cat. they don’t like water.”

“yeah but he can just hang out!”

you somehow win the argument by pointing out he doesn’t have swim goggles (however he does have a swimsuit for some reason…)

builds a structurally sound sandcastle that’s over four feet tall with a moat and working sand traps

everyone who walks by is completely awed by her sand guillotine 

accidentally squashes some poor kids sand castle and is DEVASTATED over it

spends an hour with them trying to help them rebuild and buys them ice cream to make up for it

lets you wrap your arms around her neck so she can tow you around through the water

probably makes corny engine noises too

brings sunscreen and a hat but forgets about both of them and burns 

takes you to the shops along the coast and buys you the cutest souvenirs

and of course something for Mitzi

insists on buying the two of you dinner after at some nice restaurant with AC and good seafood

Junkerqueen:

are there even beaches in junkertown/junk city?

crazy good at beach volleyball

hanging out at the beach is not really her thing though—she’d much rather wakeboard or rent a jetski (with your credit card lmfao)

however if that’s not your thing, then she’ll suck it up to spend some time with you

probably swims in her jorts

spends her time swimming laps underwater and trying to scare you by brushing up against your legs

challenges every couple that comes near you guys to a game of chicken

you guys win every single time 

breaks at least 2 sandcastles and doesn’t even notice

brings you food and drinks periodically without you needing to ask

refuses to use sunscreen but somehow doesn’t even burn??

steals borrows someones floatie so she can tow you around on it through the water

“Faster, faster”

“Oh, you’re in for it now”

flips over the floatie with you still on it when she gets bored

but she buys you ice cream to make up for it

Summer Suntacular | Masterlist | Overwatch Masterlist

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