#destroy all the seaweed

[silentsenior09]

Time to pick up those elusive Skill Points from Spyro 2 Ripto's Rage/Gateway to Glimmer.

[yappacadaver]

i love to make ramen and absolutely destroy it with nori

[merakiui]

タコの花嫁。

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, non-con, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, arranged marriage, oviposition, breeding, royalty au note - in an effort to bring peace to two warring sides, you are engaged to the sea queen’s son.

If anyone is to blame for the abysmal diplomacy between the Land and the Sea, it would be your ancestors. Pompous and foolhardy, they thought they could rule the grand seas stretching out from the harbor, beyond weather-worn docks with their rotted, seaweed-strewn planks and briny fetor. The ocean was vast, unexplored territory—a dangerous, deceptive beauty harboring life far beneath unruly waves.

And your ancestors intended to claim it.

Sailors would recount tales of fishfolk—uncanny creatures who looked more marine than the two-legged mammals of the land. They’d raise mugs, each overflowing with ale, in drunken merriment, terrifying themselves with the mysteries of the deep, dark sea.

“It ought to give ya a proper scare straight to Davy Jones himself!” they’d say, voices lowered conspiratorially. “Soon as yer candle goes out and all ya’ve got’s the moon to guide ya… You’ll hear ’em slip through the water if yer listenin’ well enough.”

“You ever go and spy one up close?”

“I’d sooner see the Devil himself and let him keelhaul me before facin’ those cursed beasts!”

“The cut of their jib ain’t so pretty. Enough to give men like us a fright and we’ve seen all sorts of somethin’.”

“Monsters, I say! Monsters!”

Festivals were held to keep these beasts at bay—to prevent them from gathering the courage to creep up onto the land. Every year, during the summer solstice, pits were hollowed on the shore and bordered with stones. Flames licked towards the sky, red-orange fingers clawing for purchase amidst the stars above. Townsfolk would sing and dance late into the eve, bellowing songs passed through the generations. Children would skip up and down the beach, torches in hand, and cry out an old chant: “Fish for you and me are meant to stay in the sea! Should you see one on land, may the Heavens strike it down with a gentle, loving hand!”

Their excitement did well to ward off the fishfolk. Sometimes the lone child would spot one in the distance, peeking out from between the rocks before diving back under in a splash.

On land, humans were safe. On land, the fishfolk couldn’t catch them.

It was different in the sea.

Ships were destroyed in terrible tempests. The waves tossed them around as if they were nothing. Many sailors would find their demise at the bottom of the ocean, torn to shreds with shattered skeletons. Viscerally brutalized, they died with secrets on their tongues—secrets of the strange fishfolk who’d drag them down, down, down to a watery grave.

On one cold February afternoon, the octopus prince was brought into the world. In shadowed fathoms, a grand celebration was held. After so much time—misfortune after misfortune—one fry survived out of the entire clutch. He was round and soft and small, colored blue from exertion and fighting through the tug of the current to reach home. The Sea Queen met him halfway and embraced him, ecstatic tears in her eyes, for a mother’s love is stronger than any political power.

“My little Azul,” she said, stroking a hand along his cheek, “how precious you are.”

No ships were sunk; no lives were lost. It was a peaceful day for both the Land and the Sea. And it would continue to be so in the future. Every year on that same February, it was made a day of peace to honor the little prince.

A day of life, not death.

It was on that same February eleven years later when you were tossed into the frigid depths like a hatchling cast out of its nest. Similarly, your birth had been a wondrous occasion. Your parents brought five boys into the world, each just as adored as the last, but they had been hoping for a daughter. It was a miracle when their fervent wishes were finally granted. You were spoiled as all daughters often are, pampered and doted on by your family and the palace staff.

Your brothers, though protective and caring, were a troublesome and rowdy bunch. Kyffin was the eldest. Two years younger was Emyr, and another two years behind him was Owin. A year younger than him were twins Morcan and Martyn. They picked on you as all immature boys often do when caught up in sibling rivalries, aiming to be the only one their parents see. To prove themselves as the best, the strongest, the wisest.

So it was with a half-cruel heart that Emyr tossed you into the waves from where he stood in the rowboat.

“Only way to learn is with exposure!” he called down to you, watching as you struggled against the push and pull of the sea. 

“C-Can’t!” you shouted back, choking on salt and flailing about. “E-Emyr, I can’t—can’t swim!”

“Don’t be silly,” Owin added with a sweet smile. “It’s how we learned. That old sod threw us right in. You’re lucky it’s us and not him. He was awfully mean with it, wasn’t he?”

“Terribly so.” Emyr watched your struggling a moment longer and clicked his tongue. He held the oar out just before you could slip under, and you clung to it with shaky hands. “Come on—let’s get you up here. You’re not gonna get it today.”

“Fin got it on his first try.”

“Fin gets everything on his first bloody try.”

Relieved, your heart pounding like a drum, you peered up at your brothers. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get it…”

“Nothing to apologize for. You’ll get it one day.”

“We’ll keep trying until then. And once you do, we’ll throw you a big party.”

“Really? Will you really do that?” Your expression brightened, but your brothers’ faces darkened. They saw the shadow before you did. Saw the webbed hands reaching out, the serrated teeth glinting in a sinister smile.

And then—

Owin leaned over, his arm outstretched. So fluid was his motion that it took you by surprise. “(Name), grab on! Hurry! Before—”

The rest of his warning was muffled by the water. You hardly had any time to brace yourself when you were yanked under, your nails raking across the wood of the oar as you went with the force of the pull. Salt stung your eyes when you cracked them open, peering frantically at blurry surroundings. Teal-green specks slid silently through the shadows, mismatched eyes flicking over your form. And then there was a high, raucous sort of chittering. Like a dolphin’s cry, loud and piercing. You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your palms against your ears.

It only lasted a few mere seconds, but it felt like an eternity trapped in the coils of a creature you couldn’t comprehend. One moment you were holding your breath and the next arms were hooked around your torso, and you were pulled up and into the belly of the rowboat. Your hands flew to your throat, and you coughed up seawater while Owin patted you.

“It’s fine. It’s…okay,” Emyr muttered, his voice shot through with fear. It was the most shaken he’d ever sounded.

Blood fogged in the water, staining the tip of his harpoon. He gazed down at his hand. A deep, jagged gash ran angrily from palm to wrist. He hissed and closed his fingers in a tight fist.

“We gotta get back,” Owin was saying, still rubbing soothing circles into your back. “I’ll row. You rest.”

“Not good,” Emyr said instead, shaking his head in dismay as he watched your attackers retreat.

“We’re still in our waters, right? We didn’t go past the boundary, did we?”

“Let’s hope not.”

“We didn’t, right?”

“Let’s hope—” Emyr paused, collecting his words. “Let’s hope those monsters were in the wrong.”

“Father’s gonna kill us.”

“If not us, the monsters.”

Both brothers looked towards you. Your tunic was torn, stained through with saltwater and blood. You shivered all the way to shore.

Following that mishap, an official meeting was called between the Land and the Sea. The King—your father—met the Sea Queen at the border. He stood proud on his ship, peering down at her with fire in his old eyes.

“Your Majesty.”

The Sea Queen was just as formidable as those who came before her. Her tentacles unfurled as one, and if you looked at them long enough they almost seemed to take on the shape of an obsidian-colored crinoline.

“I believe my mother and your father made the terms quite clear all those years ago,” she said, a wave lifting her to meet the King at the deck of his ship. “So then, with that in mind, there should be no reason for us to meet under these circumstances.”

Emyr and Owin stood just behind their father. You peered through their legs at the Sea Queen, silently amazed. You’d never seen anyone quite like her before. At least, not a real person. You’d seen her in storybooks, depicted as a fearsome beast with devilish features, and though there was something intimidating about her gaze and build she appeared understanding enough. Her grey skin was sleek in the morning sun, her long, silvery strands tied up and pinned with an ornate hair ornament. She looked beautiful in a magical, enigmatic way.

“I couldn’t agree more,” came the clipped response of your father. “Alas, misfortune has brought us here.” He stepped aside to allow her to behold Emyr’s bandaged hand. “Harm has befallen my son and daughter. I suppose you might have an inkling as to why they find themselves in their current state?”

She frowned, but you couldn’t tell if it was out of sympathy or some other emotion. “Perhaps one of them can give reason to the wound now marring one of my subject’s sons.”

Your father glanced overboard at the snake-like merman cradled in the arms of another merman. They looked near-identical, their features unmistakable. He glanced back at Emyr, his gaze hard. “Go on then. Explain yourself.”

Emyr stepped forward. “With wholehearted respect, Your Majesty, it was out of self-defense. Your kind—they attacked us first.”

“You were in our waters!” one of the mers exclaimed, pointing a clawed finger towards Emyr. “It’s all your fault Jade got hurt!”

Owin hurried ahead, his hands gripping the taffrail. “He’s playing it up! It was a graze!”

“He could’ve died! You almost killed him!”

“That is enough,” the Sea Queen said, jutting an arm out to silence both sides. “I understand everyone is hurt here. Our feud lies in misunderstanding.” She gazed at you next. “Little one, we have yet to hear your story. Do share.”

You glanced at the guards, at Owin and Emyr, and then at father. He nodded encouragingly. “U-Um!” Shyly, you approached the Sea Queen. “My brothers were teaching me how to swim. I don’t know anything about whose water is whose. I just wanted to learn how to swim.” You met the fierce scowl of the mer holding his twin brother and quickly looked elsewhere. “He grabbed me before my brothers could pull me up.”

“Because you were trespassing. Anyone who tresspasses ought to—”

“Floyd.”

At the not-so-subtle warning in his father’s voice, he shut his mouth and snarled. His brother—Jade—was handed off to their father, who assessed his state with a frown.

“He will live, but it will take time for him to recover. My son is right. Your son could have killed him.”

“Just as your sons could have killed my sister!” Owin shouted, glaring.

Floyd stuck his tongue out, remorseless.

“It is impossible to know which side is in the wrong,” your father began, turning towards the Sea Queen. “Seeing as both have been injured, I am willing to apologize on behalf of my sons.”

“What?!” Owin’s head turned towards his father. “You’re bloody mad! Have you not seen—”

“Father,” Emyr interjected evenly. “We have nothing to apologize for. We were within our waters. We had no ill will towards the others. It was completely innocent.”

The Sea Queen hummed her contemplation. “The boundary was drawn for a reason, decided upon by those who came before us, and yet it does more harm than good. It is not for safety’s sake. It is to keep us divided—to ensure that neither side will ever know peace.”

“And you’re implying that we get rid of it?”

She nodded, quite serious. Everyone looked on in equal parts shock and disbelief. “Why do we continue to fight? It does nothing but open old wounds, rendering them incurable. Innocent lives are lost in petty squabbling. And for what?”

To that, no one could offer a smart reply.

“Therefore I propose peace. A union to welcome a new era—one in which we embrace one another as allies without animosity.”

“A union?” Your father raised a brow, suspicious but willing to listen. “I suppose it would be beneficial. My people would be free to travel the seas at their leisure.” “And mine would no longer have to live in fear of being thoughtlessly slaughtered and taken as trophies.”

“Unbelievable,” Orwin muttered.

Emyr elbowed him. “Knock it off.”

“We’ll collaborate on a contract. One that dissolves the invisible boundary that has been the cause for so much suffering. In order to attain true peace, I shall offer you my only son.” She glanced at you and then back at your father. “Your daughter shall marry him when they are of age.”

“What?! No way! Ew! Gross!” Your voice came out shrill and you shook your head in protest. “I don’t wanna marry an octopus! No, I won’t do it!”

Your father stood in front of you. “She’s my only daughter. If something were to happen—”

“Which is precisely why I bring up this engagement. Should they be betrothed, we as their parents will promise to uphold peace to give them bright futures and they will act as the first example of a human-mer alliance. Unions between humans and merfolk are unheard of, but is this not the best way to foster harmony between the Land and Sea?”

“I won’t do it! No! Don’t make me marry a gross—” Emyr gathered you in his arms, holding his uninjured hand over your mouth.

“Let the grown-ups talk.”

Owin frowned. “I still don’t agree with this…”

Your father mulled it over, his eyes glazed in thought. “Very well. We will create a contract—an official peace treaty.”

Both leaders shook hands and planned to convene at the end of the week to discuss further.

You watched the mers depart, each one slipping under the sea. Floyd was the last to go, staring at you with a mean sort of vitriol. And then he, too, dove under.

“He didn’t mean it, right?” you whispered to Emyr after your father gave the order to turn the ship around and head for land. “I won’t have to marry an octopus, right?”

Emyr could only offer a commiserate frown.

“She’s a brat,” Floyd spits. “Stupid, evil Two Legs.”

Jade chuckles and runs his fingers over the scar. “I consider it an honor.”

“Yeah, well, I think it’s messed up. She’s the reason you can’t ever swim naturally again. While she’s up there in her pretty, little tower, safe and sound, you’re still hurting.”

“It’s not as much of a hindrance as you may think. I’m not weak, mind you.”

Floyd grumbles. “Still. She’s mean.”

Azul gazes up at the palace, sighing dreamily. “She’ll be my wife someday. That’s what humans call it, yes? Husband and wife… What wonderful words.”

It’s been one year since the peace treaty. Since then, humans and merfolk have made an effort to get along. This is the second time Azul will be meeting with you. He’s nervous. The first time you went out to sea to greet him, and he’d gotten so anxious that he inked right then and there. His mother entertained you from where you sat in the boat with your personal guard. It was a mortifying experience—one that had taken him months to recover from.

Now he’s going to try to meet you in the shallows. Try is the key word here. He’s scared, all three hearts beating as one. Is it too late to reschedule?

“I can’t believe you’re actually okay with this. You that lonely?”

Azul turns to scowl at both twins, but it’s mostly directed at Floyd. “I never asked you to tag along. Leave me alone.”

Jade smiles. “And let the Queen’s little prince swim to his death?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Sure you can. But what about when Two Legs gets ya? What then?”

“She wouldn’t do that.”

Floyd rolls his eyes. “You saw what her brothers did to Jade.”

“Because you tried to kill her.”

“Because she was in our territory!”

Azul huffs and pushes him away with a tentacle. “Regardless, we’re supposed to be on good terms now. You’ll break the contract if you try anything dangerous.”

“He’s right, Floyd.”

“Ugh. Whatever.” Floyd turns away, stubborn. “This is lame. I’m not stickin’ around.”

Jade lingers long enough to observe the way Azul lights up when he spots you on the stone steps. And then he disappears beneath the water.

Barefoot, holding your dress up and out of the way, you pad across the beach.

“Why are you here? I’m busy. My brothers are taking me into town.”

The smile that had been fighting to break out on his face frosts over. “Oh. I… Um…” Azul fumbles with the conch shell he’d collected on the way here. A gift for you. He made sure to study human speech patterns in the months leading up to this meeting. He’s fully prepared! And yet you look so displeased. “F-For you! I found it…”

You stare at the shell clutched in a dark tentacle. Tentatively, you reach for it. “Why?”

“Ah. W-Well, my mother says gifts are an important part of any bond. In the sea, we give gifts to the ones we care about. To friends and family and o-other halves…”

You turn the shell over in your hands. “We’re not friends.”

“Not yet,” he tries, but you shake your head.

“You ran away from me the last time we met. That’s not very friendly.”

His face flushes blue and he opens his mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. It wasn’t on purpose.

You’re already turning on your heel. “I don’t have time for this.” You toss the shell over your shoulder. Azul watches it land in the sand, just out of his grasp.

“W-Wait! I… I want to talk to you. Please don’t go. You’re going to be my other half one day, so I’d like to—”

But you’re already dashing across the beach to get to the stairs.

Azul deflates against the rock. Tears overflow in floods. Is it because of him? Is he to blame? Why don’t you want to be his friend? Is it because of the peace treaty? Why?

Why? Why? Why?

Azul doesn’t want to think negatively of you. Humans are sensitive creatures. He reads up on them in the palace library, poring over literature and textbooks in an effort to better understand you. But as the months pass and you seem to simply tolerate him for the sake of the alliance, he begins to suspect something.

It’s made apparent the next time he sees you, where you walk right past the beach to catch up with your brothers. He hides behind the rocks, two blue eyes following your figure until you’re out of sight.

Floyd was right. You are a brat.

And yet he can’t hate you.

On the eve of your eighteenth birthday, Azul meets you in the shallows.

Nowadays you send letters, preferring strained long distance over the personal intimacy of face-to-face relations. These exchanges are purely diplomatic. But now that he’s asked to meet with you, a rare occurrence, you’ve deigned to greet him in person. It’s the least you can do after he’s gone through the trouble to travel here. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him that he’s almost unrecognizable. You remember the round, baby-faced octo-mer from your childhood. The one who lounges against the rocks is leaner now—his features defined, jawline as sharp as his eyes. They cut through the gloom to find you.

“You wished to see me?” You’re in your nightwear, a silky gown with an even softer robe. A cool breeze blows across the beach, and you wrap your arms around yourself for extra warmth. “Azul?”

He hesitates, his gaze trailing up your legs. You’ve also changed a lot in the time you’ve been apart. You’ve grown taller, filling out in places he didn’t know humans could fill. What he’d give to hold you… His mother says he needs to be patient. Fickle thing that you are, you’re the reason he’s spent six years trying to appease you through letters—to win you over and be anything more than that “annoying octopus” you’re doomed to marry. Perhaps it would have been easier to act just as you do if it weren’t for the fact that he’d been elated at the premise of having someone to love. When his mother broached the idea in the days following her meeting with the Land King, he’d stared at her with wide, excited eyes.

“There’s a human girl who wants to be my friend?” he asked, to which his mother smiled and nodded.

More than a friend, actually, but then all he was focused on was finally getting to experience the one thing he’d never known or had: friendship.

Sighing, he foregoes formality and holds out a necklace. It dangles from the tip of his tentacle. Strung on a dainty, silver strand, pearls wink back at you under the moonlight. Azul averts his eyes, his cheeks a pleasant periwinkle.

“Happy birthday…”

“Oh.” You move in closer, taking the necklace from him. His tentacle pursues you, twining delicately around your wrist. “Um… What is it? Do you need—whoa!”

Azul tugs you closer. The sea laps at your ankles. Beneath a tapestry of stars, you meet his azure stare. His features are set with a determination you’ve never seen before.

“I want to start over.”

“Start over?”

“I’d like to be on friendly terms with you. We’re so cold. Distant…” Azul frowns, seeming unsure of what to say or do next. The tentacle laced around your wrist like a bracelet tightens its hold. “We’re to be wed one day. I want to make this work.”

You blink at him. He thinks he may have gotten through to you, having finally broken through layers of stone and ice, but then your nose scrunches and odium shimmers in your gaze.

“That’s impossible. I’m a human. How am I supposed to live with an octopus?” You shake him off with a huff. “I’m not sure what our parents think this will accomplish. I don’t want to be a pawn to be moved around for the sake of peace. I’m my own person.”

Azul’s expression sours. His lip curls up into a sneer. “Well, I don’t find it very enjoyable either. You’re not the only victim in this scenario.”

You exhale an exhausted breath. “Azul, I appreciate the gift, but it doesn’t mean anything if you’re only giving it to me to curry favor.”

I wasn’t, he thinks, but he doesn’t say that. Admitting it would be a weakness. Admitting it would mean coming to terms with an unrequited opinion.

“At least one of us is making a conscious effort.”

“At least one of us isn’t trying so hard. It’s pathetic.”

“You’re not obligated to accept my goodwill.” He smiles, smug. “Yet you do every time. I’d wager you enjoy my materialistic affections.”

“As if.” Despite this, you hold the necklace out of his reach when a tentacle flexes towards it. “It’s mine now.”

“So you are fond of my ‘pathetic’ ways!”

“I’m not!”

You jerk away with a vicious scowl, but your foot catches in the sand and you quickly find yourself tipping backwards. If not for the tentacles that coil around your waist to steady you, you would have fallen on your rear. Your chest heaves with adrenaline. Stunned, you stare at Azul.

“You…caught me,” you breathe, lips parted in awe.

“Did you think I’d let you fall?” He cocks his head at you, grinning playfully. “Why, I’d never! Unless it’s me you’re falling for, in which case I gladly welcome the—”

“You’re such a pest.” Untangling yourself from his grasp, which he allows without scrimmage, you step away from the water’s edge. He watches you secure the pearls around your neck, and his hearts stumble in his chest when you point an accusatory finger at him. “Don’t delude yourself with foolish nonsense. I have no interest in you.”

With an indignant harrumph, you start towards the palace.

“May we meet here tomorrow?” Azul calls out after you, testing his luck with what little chance he has.

“Don’t push it.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“Good. Keep waiting, dummy!” You break into a sprint, hurrying off into the shadows.

Azul smiles at the empty beach. Whether or not you like him, it doesn’t matter. You’re to be his one day. You’ve always been, ever since he was eleven.

He’ll wait, even if you won’t show.

Ostensibly, twenty-one years wise, you’re getting married today.

Your gown is just as exquisite as your hair and makeup. Pearls cling to your throat and arms—classic wedding attire for merfolk. A thin veil shields the scheme in your stare.

This was an inevitability, but you’re determined to fight it until the end. No matter how quickly time seems to pass, you’ll do everything you can to stall and slow it.

Gripping a sharpened dagger in a resolute fist, you drag it through the long, sprawling train of your gown.

“As if I’d marry an octopus,” you grumble, cutting fine fabric until you’re permitted smoother movement. Gazing at yourself in the mirror, you scowl. “I’m no one’s bride.”

By the time the maids arrive to check on you, you’ve already stolen out the window.

The rowboat sways on choppy water. You’ve watched your brothers do this enough times to have the technique engraved in your memory. Your arms strain with the oars, every muscle screaming in protest, but you fight through the pain. The palace looks smaller and smaller with every passing minute. Eventually, you’re so far out that the land is but a mere speck.

It’s going well. You’re escaping towards a better future—a future without the octopus prince.

You glance towards the horizon. Your boat undulates with the waves.

You’ll miss your brothers, your maids, your personal guard…

Water slops over the edge. You yelp, startled. Have the seas always been so rough?

Despite everything, you’ll miss your father.

Just as you think this, your boat rocks to the side. You grab onto the edge to steady yourself, but it’s already too late. It tips over and you go with it, careening into the sea with a noisy splash. Twin shadows cut seamlessly through the murky water. You catch sight of a yellow eye before you propel yourself towards the sky, coughing and heaving once you break the surface. You grab onto the overturned rowboat, your dagger clutched in one hand.

You search the surface for them, eyes flicking to and fro in a frantic panic.

Somewhere… Anywhere… Where are you?

And then you find them, peering at you from the other side of the boat.

“Go on then,” you spit, glaring. “Kill me.”

Floyd bares his teeth at you. “This time I ain’t gonna leave a scar.”

“You know we mustn’t. That’s not why we’re here.” Jade smiles at you, but there’s something in his eyes that unnerves you. “Your Highness, you should know it’s poor manners to leave the groom on his special day.”

Floyd circles you restlessly. “S’not fair we gotta be nice when you’re so mean.”

“I’m not going to marry him.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in that matter.”

“What’d Azul ever do to you?”

You attempt to answer that before realizing the truth. Nothing. He’s done absolutely nothing but be kind and understanding and patient. And I took that, chewed it up, and spat in his face.

“If you used that brain of yours, you wouldn’t have thrown yourself to the sharks. We can’t get to you on land.” “But it’s fair game in the sea,” Floyd finishes, every syllable dripping with pride. “Stupid Two Legs.”

“I’m inclined to agree. You’re not the brightest human. A pity.”

“My brother should’ve gutted you when he had the chance. Maybe then—”

You see the whites of Floyd’s eyes when he strikes, launching himself at you with a clawed hand, sharp, pointed teeth aiming for your jugular.

This is it. You’re dead.

…or not.

The searing pain never comes, nor does the impending laceration. You cling to the boat and watch dark tentacles rise from the depths to close around Floyd, ensnaring him in a firm hold. He thrashes, snapping his jaws like a deranged beast.

“Let go of me, Azul! Lemme at her! She’s a bitch! I’ll kill her!”

“There will be none of that.” Azul tuts. “I don’t intend to marry a corpse.”

Jade swims over to you. “My feelings aren’t hurt in the slightest, Your Highness. If it weren’t for your status and connection to Azul, I’d have disemboweled you ages ago. Quite a relief for you, yes?”

You swallow your horror, allowing him to detach you from the boat so that Azul can turn it over. A tentacle curls around your waist, lifts you from the water, and places you back in the boat. You stare at your hands. They’re trembling. You can hardly hold the dagger properly.

It takes some convincing and a lukewarm apology from you, but Floyd promises to be good. He doesn’t do anything as you’re pulled back to shore, but he does stare at you for the duration of the trip, his eyes tracking your every movement. You press yourself into the belly of the boat, defeated and riddled with anxiety.

Your father isn’t pleased. When you see his enraged expression, the debate dies on your tongue. “You are to marry the prince,” he seethes, pulling you aside, “or else you jeopardize the peace of our kingdom.”

You’re washed and fitted in a new dress. Guards are stationed at all possible routes to prevent another escape.

When you walk down the beach to meet Azul in the shallows, your veil shields the sadness in your stare.

The ceremony carries on without incident. Floyd watches from the water, lurking like Death. You speak rehearsed vows in robotic monotone, mindlessly floating through the rigmarole like it’s second nature. Azul smiles at you through it all, sweetly smitten.

It’s a nightmare lived in real time.

Humans and mers alike congratulate you, cheering for this momentous occasion. Your tongue is numb by the end of it all. You’ve expressed faux gratitude so many times that it hurts to even force the words. And now, as night descends and the party kicks into full swing, you’re left reflecting on the day.

Freedom feels so far away. You’ll never know it again, will you?

Azul guides you away from the crowd. Firelight grows dim with the distance. Eventually, you find yourself taking refuge in a tiny inlet cut into the beach. A rocky outcrop hides you from the moon’s spotlight.

“I’m not upset,” Azul murmurs, curling a tentacle up your leg. “But Floyd is.”

“His brother’s the one who hurt me all those years ago.”

“That was before the union.”

“I’m not letting it go.”

“Perhaps not now, but you will. One day.”

You don’t believe him.

“Our people are at peace. Aren’t you pleased, my love?”

You shove him away, gathering heaps of your dress to walk in calf-deep water. “I’m not your love.”

“Legally, you are.”

“That means nothing to me. Absolutely nothing.”

Azul sighs. “Even now, after everything, you’re still trying to flee.”

“For good reason. I don’t want to be tied down.”

Azul inches closer. Another tentacle wraps slyly around your ankle.

“You’re so beautiful. I feel like the luckiest mer in the sea. To be able to call you my own… My beautiful bride.” He pulls you closer. You resist weakly. “Now that we’re alone I can finally tell you the very thing I’ve thought of ceaselessly for years.”

A tentacle slides up your leg, straying closer to your inner thigh. You flinch away.

“Azul, wait. I don’t want—”

“I love you.”

You squirm in his hold, attempting to thwart the tentacles that grab at your every limb. You trip over yourself in the process. This time Azul doesn’t catch you. Water laps at your dress, soaking through at once. He’s radiant beneath the moon. Dreading his touch, you scoot as far from him as you can get in the water, hoping to reach land. Azul seizes your wrist and pulls you into his arms. You fight him with more force.

“No… No, let go of me! Release me!”

“Why should I? You’re mine now. Is it not customary for a married couple to consummate their new bond? We do something similar in the sea.” A tentacle brushes your veil back so that he can look upon your pretty face. “I’d take you to a quiet space in the seagrass, lay you down in the sand, and then—”

“I don’t want that! No!” You lash out, swinging blindly. A tentacle shoots out to stop your arm before it can smack him. “Azul, please—”

“I was patient. I waited and waited in hopes that you might warm up to me. I cherished you in silence. I learned your language. Your customs. Your habits. I wrote to you. Traveled to meet you. And yet you look at me as if I’m a monster…”

It’s not the devastated look in his eyes or the edge in his voice that scares you. It’s the startling gentleness with which he handles you. Tentacles loop around your body, exploring beneath your gown. You wriggle in discomfort, yelping when suckers brush against the frilly garter secured around your thigh. Azul hums and holds you up in his tentacles, using two to spread your legs so that he may slide it from your leg.

“I wasn’t forceful. I courted you kindly. You accepted all of my gifts. You wore them proudly and I thought—I knew you would love me, too. You were mine from the moment our parents signed that agreement. And if you leave me, you’ll break a political promise and then our kingdoms will go to war and I’ll be sure to collect the heads of your family first. Each one of them, and you will watch as I bring ruin to the kingdom you love so fondly.”

“N-No… Please stop. Please.”

“I’ve waited ten years for you.” A tentacle hooks around your panties. You thrash again, shaking your head at him. He remains unconvinced, watching with gleeful eyes as your nudity is revealed to him. “And aren’t you an angel? Oh, you’re so pretty…”

Like your hopes, your panties are cast aside.

The tip of a tentacle prods curiously at your pussy. Your breath hitches.

“W-Wait! You… You can’t.” His eyes find yours, and you swallow the rising sob. “T-That can’t go inside… It won’t fit. It won’t—”

Azul smiles. “Of course it will. The human body is capable of marvelous feats.”

Even though it’s pointless, you struggle. “I can’t! Please… Azul, I’m scared. Please don’t do this…”

A lone tentacle slides into your hand. Thoughtless, you hold tight.

“My love, there’s no need to cry. I’m not going to hurt you.” He brings you closer, kissing your tears away. “I’m here for you. I’ve always been here, even when you didn’t seem to need me.”

You hiccup, your chest heaving. It’s not lonely for long, for he pulls your dress down your shoulders. Your breasts spill free and are quickly cradled in cold hands. Azul watches your expression with an intense focus while he rolls your nipples between his fingers. You grit your teeth, refusing to respond. But then the tentacle between your legs finds your clit and a sucker affixes to it, suctioning slowly. You gasp and throw your head back, bolts of pleasure racing up your spine. It happens in a white-hot flash. You slacken in his grasp.

Azul laughs, astonished. “Did you cum? Already?”

“Nooo,” you whine, closing your hand around the tentacle once more. Another one strokes your cheek. “You’ve had your fun. Now let go of me…”

“What a silly demand.”

He tugs on your nipples. You groan, lashes fluttering. “Ooh… Stop. No, stop it… Don’t touch there. Not—haa… Not there!”

“You’re so sensitive.” He drags the underside of a tentacle along your cunt and shivers. “And so wet… Is this your season? Do humans experience such a thing?”

You’ve no idea what he’s referring to, but before you can dwell on it he leans down to take your perky bud in his mouth. Your free hand grabs at his hair, pinning him to your chest. His tongue laves across it, warm and wet. You shouldn’t enjoy it so much, and yet you can’t stop yourself from crying out.

He hums against your skin, beaming like a devil. You can’t hate him. He’s your husband. He’s yours. You shouldn’t hate him.

You’re falling apart in his tentacles, grinding down to chase the bliss provided by the underside of the appendage clinging to your pussy. The sinful squelch of skin on skin fills the quiet inlet. The scent of sex and salt intermingles. It’s wrong and it’s right. It’s instinct, carnal and corrupt. Azul groans against your breast, your teat between his teeth.

“Az—ooh!” You tug on his hair, insatiable. Your brain is fogging over with lust. You don’t want to lose yourself in this madness. You can’t. “N-No more… No more.” 

But he’s not listening. He pinches your other nipple between his fingers, and that’s all it takes for you to unravel.

In the aftermath, the tapered tip of a thicker tentacle squirms between your thighs. Mindlessly, you spread your legs and lift your hips for him. It presses in shallowly, a jarring experience.

“Not inside—don’t! You can’t!”

Azul pulls away from you, his expression scrunched in woozy ecstasy. “Why not?” he mumbles, smiling stupidly. “You’re my bride. It’s only fair…”

Before you can bicker, he kisses you. His tongue pursues yours in a sloppy tango. You lick into his mouth, desperate and dazed. Lost in a sea of salacity, shipwrecked on an island of forgotten inhibitions.

The tentacle pushes through rings of tight, slick muscle. Tears spring to your eyes. It feels weird and foreign, so unlike your fingers. He holds you close, minding his strength and pace. It fills you slowly, reaching places you’ve never been able to feel. The lust numbs your senses and gives way to something animalistic—a base desire you’ve suppressed. Azul rocks the appendage deeper until it’s pushed up against the entrance to your womb, squeezed snugly in your warm walls.

“I-It’s in…” you mumble once he’s broken the kiss, a strand of saliva connecting your mouths. “It’s really…inside me…”

Azul kisses your cheek and pets you with a tentacle. “We were made for each other.”

Surely not, you think, but it feels so when he draws back and thrusts in. Maybe he’s right.

He fucks you gently, savoring every single sound you make. He tells you he loves you, whispers it over and over like it’s prayer. You nod dumbly, grabbing at his hand to hold it. The both of you are gasping in unison, chasing cloud nine. In just a few more deep strokes, his tip bullying its way to your womb, he finally finds his end. A thin substance fills you up in plentiful amounts. Distantly, you think it’s water until he drags your hips further down. Your mouth drops open in a strangled scream as something round and gelatinous passes through. It settles in your womb, and you know right away that it shouldn’t be there.

You panic. “W-Wait… Wha—Zul… Stop… No, I don’t want—”

“It’s all right,” he breathes, his mouth on your shoulder. He soothes you with soft shushes and even softer kisses. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

You dig your nails into the tentacle curled in your palm just as a second orb squeezes through. He groans, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Finally…” He pants, a wobbly smile stretching on his delirious countenance. “Finally, my love, my dear—oh, my beloved bride!”

He cradles you like a mother would a newborn. You lie there as he fills you, your voice hoarse from babbling and bewailing. These things—little orbs of jelly—are stuffed into your womb, and by the time you surpass twenty you lose count and blank out, trembling through yet another orgasm. You’re not sure how many more he has left or how many more you can possibly fit. It feels too good to think about that.

“Bigger. They’ll get bigger. You’ll look so pretty—round and full and soft.”

Dizzy, you glance at the bloated dome that is your belly. Your gown strains over it, an impressively deceptive size that you almost mistake for pregnancy. That’s when it clicks. Eggs. These are eggs.

“I’ll make sure they survive. All of them—as many as I possibly can. I’ll stay by your side. I’ll keep you content. I’ll fill you with love—so much love—an abundance of it, and you’ll never know emptiness again,” he rambles, resting a tentacle over your distended middle.

It’s not just a senseless sweet nothing. It’s a promise.

[sabrinashrts]

seaweed brain

pairings : percy jackson x fem!daughter of athena!reader

warnings : none really ? recommend no one over 14 reads a this cause that’s kinda weird

summary : percy sacrifices himself for you

You and Percy were the ones who had to get the shield for Ares. He held Annabeth and Grover to himself so you both wouldn’t end up tricking him. You guys had to go to an amusement park. That’s where Ares left his shield last. You saw a tunnel that said thrill ride o’ love.

“It must be there.” Percy said as he looked at you. You nodded “Let’s go in..” you both walked and you had to get on a boat. Percy helped you by grabbing your hand and the boat just started to go on its own. You guys didn’t say anything it was just so awkward.

But as things were happening you guys ended up going down a waterfall you both screamed cause it was completely unexpected. When you made it to the end of the waterfall you both noticed ahead of you where other boats and they are getting destroyed.

“Jump!” Percy said. You jumped but it was really deep water and you couldn’t really some. You were underwater and took out your hand “Percy!” You said. He tried to grab your hand but all of a sudden you were on a dock. “Did you just pull me out with the powers??” You said confused but also trying to breathe.

“I’m still trying to figure that out” he said. You both stood up and there was Ares shield but the only way to get it is if someone sits on that chair but that chair turns you into gold. You spoke “I’ll sit on the chair…” you said but Percy grabbed your hand “Wait a minute!”

“Look seaweed brain I’m not letting you do this again you already did this to me back at the arch whoever goes isn’t coming out!” You said looking at him. “I know that’s why I said wait!” He yelled.

You sighed “I’m not letting you do this..” you said as you were gonna go to the seat. “Y/n stop.. and I’m not letting you do this! The others are gonna need you on this quest because you’re better at all of this! You just are.” For some reason you just wanted to cry.

“Believe me I wish there was another way but I just don’t see it..” you looked at Percy with your eyes watering. Percy reached from his pocket and gave you his pen/sword. “Here.. take it.” You sighed and took it from his hand. He walked to the seat and looked at you “Promise me something.”

You looked at him “I’m not leaving the underworld without your mom…” he had a soft smile but you also noticed his eyes were watering “That to but I was wondering maybe after all this you can come back and try and get me out?” You nodded “You didn’t even have to ask” you were right of course you were gonna save Percy I mean he’s about to sacrifice himself for you.

Percy sat m the chair and you noticed his legs were getting cover in gold. “This is a bad idea.. stand up!” You said. He couldn’t move. You yelled “Percy stand up I mean it!” Percy looked at you with tears “It’s okay… I’m okay” and just like that he turned into gold and Ares shield fell down.

You looked at the shield and was gonna pick it up but you just couldn’t leave Percy. Something is holding you back. You went to the back of the chair and saw gears you sat to see if you could do something nothing would move. Just then someone came through they sounded familiar.

It was Hephaestus he kept talking about our mother Athena how she acts and how other gods are and how they just want glory and power and with that shield many things could happen you could get the glory and power and he said if you leave everything can go back to how it should be but you got up and just got so mad.

“It shouldn’t be that way! All you gods care about is glory and power. I don’t care about that stuff everyone is like that.. ares is so is my mother! But Percy isn’t that way either! He’s better than that. We will never turn out to be like you guys.” You sighed and just then Hephaestus did something. The gears started moving.

You went to the other side to look at Percy and he started to be himself. Thank god you thought when he was free you grabbed his hand and he let you. You held onto his arm and you both looked up at Hephaestus. He sighed “Your a good kid y/n I’ll put in a good word with your mother.” He left and you looked at Percy “Are you okay??” He nodded.

You grabbed Ares shield and it was time to go back thank god you both made it out alive.

[juicedpeachy]

Imagining a hualian mermaid au where hua cheng is a mermaid

When he was younger some poachers caught him and they marveled at his bright red tail. he tried his best to cover it with seaweed and stay out of sight

But he gets caught

Xie Lian happens to be sailing nearby and he spots the poachers and demands they release honghong er

Honghong er is frightened by it all and swims away. He spends the rest of his youth hiding in an underwater cave. Never does he forget the kind human who saved him

Xie Lian’s village is destroyed by the poachers who turn out to be pirates because of this act. Then he is kidnapped by the pirates and made a slave aboard their boat

He tries to stay upbeat and kind toward the other victims and prisoners he encounters but it’s *hard*

Meanwhile, Hua Cheng makes a name for himself as the terror of the seas. You know he is near when the waves turn crimson

He spots this ship and attacks it for entering his domain—a haven where merfolk are safe from humankind. He watches the pirates begin to drown, a smile on his face

Then he spots one—an unconscious man in tattered white robes—a face he could never forget. He races Xie Lian to the surface and resuscitates him. Pleading with his savior to stay with him. To stay alive.

Xie Lian wakes up. He instantly recognizes Hua Cheng. He smiles.

“It’s you,” he whispers, placing a hand on the merman’s cheek. He never stopped thinking of the mermaid. He never regretted saving him.

Hua Cheng just stares and stares and stares. Disbelieving. He treats his beloved’s wounds. He can’t speak above the surface. His vocal cords don’t work right.

Xie Lian remains on a small island while he heals. Hua Cheng hunts fish for him and watches the human cook it. Xie Lian talks at length about where he is from and the life he’s lived. Hua Cheng listens with rapt attention

One day, when Xie Lian has recovered, and meat has returned to his bones, Hua Cheng offers him, on a thin silver chain, a ring made of his own scales.

When Xie Lian puts it on, he transforms into a merman. An elegant one with a pretty white and gold scaled tail.

They go to Hua Cheng’s domain and Xie Lian quickly picks up the language of the merfolk

Hua Cheng explains that Xie Lian can take off the necklace at any time and return to his human life up on land. To return home.

“Maybe I’ll visit someday,” Xie Lian smiles. “But as far as Im concerned I *am* home.”

[absurdthirst]

Washed Up {Dave York x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 16.4k

Warnings: Violent injuries, loss of eye, amnesia, recovery, growing feelings, oral sex (male and receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, infidelity through memory loss, recovered memory, angst, separation, loss, pregnancy, deadly threats

Comments: When Dave washes up on the beach in front of your house, gravely injured and without any memory of who he is, you give him a save place to recover. And a glimpse of the man he wants to be.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Dave looks up at Robert, one eye destroyed, and his arm hanging limply at his side. He's on his knees and he knows it's over. His killing spree. His life. It's all over. When he's pushed over the wall, he prays for a quick death and when his head hits the rocks, he feels at peace.

**** 

Death doesn't keep Dave in its grip for long. The man blinks, his body in agony as he expects to open his eyes and find himself in hell. That's where he should be. He should already be consumed by the flames but instead, he hears the waves lapping, birds flying overhead, and a woman's voice. It fades in and out and he closes his eyes again, the darkness overtaking his senses once again.

Living on the coast is beautiful and deadly. You had witnessed the destruction of the hurricane barreling along the coast through the latched shutters and listened to the howling winds as they clamored to get inside. Now, you are assessing the damage, luckier than most and cleaning up debris along the water that had been churned up and pushed ashore by the waves. Now calmer as they ripple on the sand. The clump of seaweed and debris you had been walking towards made you shout when you spotted an arm. 

“Oh my god!” Rushing over, you find that it’s a man. Immediately pushing your fingers against his throat, only to find a thready pulse. A heartbeat, even as weak as it is, is a heartbeat. “Sir! Sir!” You can’t risk moving him, but he’s on his back, opening an eye only to rear back when the eye socket is empty. A fresh wound from the damage to it. “Sir?” You cautiously open the other lid to find a blown pupil and you reach for your cell phone, praying the towers aren’t jammed or down from the storm.

****

Dave groans softly, his voice hoarse from swallowing so much sea water, and he can hear beeping. His eye flutters open, making him wince at the bright light above, and he doesn’t recognize where he is but when his sight focuses, he’s in a hospital room. “Relax.” He hears someone say and he obeys, unable to do anything but lay there, trying to piece together what happened but his mind is blank.

You shouldn’t be sitting in the chair beside this stranger’s bed, but you are. Hating that you have read his charts so many times that you know it by heart, you wonder how he survived the vicious attack. Lacerations and wounds, knife wounds, millimeters from having his spine severed. This man was lucky to be alive. You reach for his hand and squeeze gently, hoping that he can hear you. “Relax.” You murmur softly. “You’re safe.”

Dave slides into subconscious yet again, the voice of an angel lulling him to sleep. When he wakes again, the machines are still beeping but he is lucid. His eye opens and he tenses, remembering nothing but the voice. “Whe -where am I?” He chokes out, voice raspy and quiet from the ocean and lack of hydration.

“You’re in the hospital.” Sitting up from the little nap you had been taking, you immediately start checking his vitals on the monitor. “You’re safe.” You promise, knowing that above all else, that is what most people worry about when they wake up in unfamiliar surroundings. His head turns towards you, and you introduce yourself. “I’m the one that found you on my beach five days ago.”

“On the beach? What was I doing on the beach?” He rasps and you grab the cup of water, holding out the straw for him to take a sip. “That’s what I was hoping you’d tell me.” You chuckle nervously and Dave swallows down the water to clear his throat. His head aches as he tries to remember why. “I don’t - I don’t remember.”

“I was afraid of that.” You sigh softly, pulling the cup away from his lips when he leans back. “You had some swelling on your brain and had considerable trauma.” You explain. “And you were hypothermic. It sounds like you have amnesia.”

Dave blinks as if trying to force himself to remember. “I don’t remember anything.” He chokes, “and I can’t see properly. Why can’t I see properly?” He panics slightly, his hand coming up to his face and his eye widens as he discovers the bandage.

“You have sustained severe injuries.” You reach for his hands and gently take hold of them so he doesn’t rip off the bandages. “I’m afraid that you are missing your eye. The bandage is to let the injury heal properly and when you are healed, you can be fitted with a prosthetic.”

Dave chokes at the news of his missing eye. “Is - is there anything else missing? Am I - can I walk?” He asks, his chest heaving as he starts to panic until he calms himself down without a thought. Like previous training kicks in and he has no clue why his heart monitor isn’t skyrocketing.

You frown and watch his heartbeat barely jump even though he had just had a moment of complete panic. “You have knife wounds, but there wasn’t any spinal damage that we could see.” You promise. “Your reflexes are still intact. You should still have all your motor functions.”

He nods, in shock, but his body feels completely calm. It’s unnerving to say the least. “Okay.” He knows he needs to adjust to having a missing eye but he is calm enough to know that he should be able to walk. To function. “Do you remember your name?” You ask and he frowns, trying to remember but nothing comes into his mind. He shakes his head, “no, ma’am.”

You are disappointed but know that is common with the amount of injuries he had. Especially since he had head injuries. “That’s going make it harder to get you home.” You admit softly. “The police have been here and you didn’t have any ID in your clothes and your prints aren’t coming up in the system.” You give him a small, reassuring smile. “I’ve been calling you John, for John Doe.”

Dave snorts, “John. What is your name?” He asks and you tell him, “I’m a nurse here. Good thing too since you washed up outside of my house.” Dave nods, “so what happens now? If no one knows who I am?”

You bite your lip and sigh. “You will probably be discharged tomorrow, now that you are awake. Since you don’t know who you are or where you live, I’ll bring you home with me.” You had thought about it after a conversation with the police and you can’t just leave this man alone and without anywhere to turn. It’s as if he doesn’t exist.

Dave shakes his head and winces at the pain, “you don’t - you shouldn’t have to - I can go to a hotel or something. I don’t have any money but I will figure it out.” He says like it makes sense when it doesn’t at all. “You’re coming home with me.” You insist and he sighs, “I’ll make it up to you. When I get my identity back.” He promises, knowing it’s an empty one unless that actually happens.

“We can cross that bridge when we come to it.” You murmur softly. “Are you hungry? Or do you want to rest some more?” People are surprised at how tired they are after waking up from a comma or being deeply unconscious.

“I want to sleep.” He confesses, “then food.” He smiles softly and you chuckle, “no problem. Get some sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.” You promise and watch as his eyes flutter closed. He falls asleep within moments and you go to get the doctor to tell them that the John Doe is awake. When Dave opens his eyes the next time, the machines are still beeping and he looks over to find you sitting in the chair. “How long have you been here?” He rasps, his voice thick with sleep.

“I haven’t left since I brought you in.” You confess, knowing that it makes you seem crazy, but you haven't been able to leave him alone. “I used the bathroom in your room to shower. I just-“ you shrug. “I didn’t want you to wake up alone.”

Dave is shocked but appreciative, his stomach twisting with something unknown. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” He murmurs and you stand, helping him sit up. “Are you hungry?” You ask and he nods, “I’ll get you a tray.” He watches you leave the room and he tries to remember anything about himself. Anything at all so he can discover his identity. He doesn’t want to be a burden on you.

The police have been informed that he’s awake, but that he has no memory of his life or his name. They don’t even bother to come out and tell you that he’s just non/existent in the system. Like he’s a ghost. You thank them and bring the tray back, setting it on the table and shelling it in front of him. “Here you go. Try not to eat too fast. I know you have to be hungry.”

Dave takes a bite, his hand shaking a little, his other hand in a cast from his wounds and he groans at the taste of the food. He tries to not eat too fast but he’s starving all of a sudden. “Do you- your partner won’t be upset with me coming home with you?”

You laugh quietly and shake your head. “No partner.” You tell him. “Just me. My dog, I’d had her for fourteen years, died last year. So it’s just me.” Your house was way too big for you, but you had bought it when the market was down and you loved living on the water. “I can put you downstairs for now until you are ready to climb stairs.”

Dave can’t argue. He doesn’t have anywhere to go. He doesn't have an ID, money, a home. He’s completely lost and your kindness is the only thing that’s saving him. “I can’t thank you enough. When I figure out who I am, I’ll pay you back.” He promises, “I can’t thank you enough for helping me.”

You shake your head. “When you have the chance to help someone else, do it. That’s all the payment I need.” You promise quietly. “There are too many unfortunates in this world.”

Dave nods, knowing he will find a way to repay you when he can. He will make sure he does when he remembers who he is. For now, he has to focus on recovering and healing from a traumatic experience.

“So, I’ve got you a set of basic scrubs to wear when you’re released.” You murmur quietly, watching him eat. “Your things were ruined, we had to cut them off you, but I saved them.” You hope that his clothes might help him remember something. “After I get you home, I’ll pick you up some more things, comfortable and easy to put on.”

Dave nods, “I guess I need to remember who I am because I don’t have anything. No money. No job. No home. Shit. I’m so sorry I literally landed on your doorstep.” You shake your head and go to interrupt him but he continues, “I can’t ever repay you for your kindness.”

You can tell that will be a continuing theme for him, so you don’t protest. Instead, you smirk as he polishes off the cheeseburger. “Did you like that?” You ask. “Cheeseburger kind of man?”

“Hell yes.” He chuckles, “that I do remember. Kind of? Would be fucking hell if I was a vegan and didn’t know it.” He snorts, “guess I’ll find out when I remember.” He adds, then frowns, knowing it should be ‘if’ he remembers.

“At least you remember what being a vegan means.” You point out in amusement. He’s handsome, even with the scars and the bandage over his eye. His jaw is covered with stubble and you bite your lip. “Before you leave, they are going to want you to get up and shower. Do you want me to help you shave? You were clean shaven when I found you.”

Dave nods, “yes please. I would love that because this is too itchy.” You’re like a guardian angel and he doesn’t know how to say thank you for all of your help. The nurses come by later on and help him shower and he is a little embarrassed by his nudity when they help him undress. When he is dressed in scrubs, you sit him down by the sink and grab the razor, starting to shave his face. Dave can’t help but watch you as you try to concentrate on shaving him without making his skin. You are an angel in every sense of the word, ethereal in appearance, and he knows he’s staring, but he can’t help himself.

You glance at his eye, noticing that he’s watching you as you look back down at his foamy jaw. “What?” You chuckle. “I’m not going to slit your throat.” You wince the second it comes out of your mouth, because you know the injuries he’s received. Someone tried to kill him. “I mean, I’m careful.”

He continues watching you, “I can tell you’re a woman who likes attention to detail.” He says and tilts his head for you. “So are you from here? Or did you move here?” He asks, wanting to know more about you.

“Moved here about eight years ago.” You hum as you furrow your brow as you scrape the razor along his jaw. “Tiny little midwestern town, landlocked. So living right by the ocean was a dream for me.”

Dave hums, anxious to know more about you. He doesn’t know why he feels so drawn to you other than the fact that you are the woman that saved his life. “Did you move here with a partner? Or have you been alone this entire time?“ He can’t believe that someone like you would’ve been on their own for an extended period of time when you are so beautiful.

“Terminally single.” You joke. “When I first started my career, I was working all the time. Boyfriends didn’t really like that, so I just decided that I would be happy without someone.” You shrug like it doesn’t matter, but you have been feeling alone. “But I got to travel as a nurse for a while and earn great money. Buy my house, so if a man comes along….” You glance at him again and smirk. “He’s gotta be okay with me being independent.”

“Good for you.” Dave smiles as you wash off the razor before you continue. He doesn’t ask anymore questions, trying to search his own brain for answers. He wonders where he’s from. Does he have a family? He doesn’t know anything and it’s driving him crazy. He lets you shave his face and watches you with fascination .

The silence settles between you and instead of asking him questions, you start to hum a song. It’s nothing meaningful, just one of the new ones you had heard on the radio and got stuck in your head. Maybe you should play some music for him to see if it helps him figure out who he is.

Dave listens to you hum, not recognizing the song but he likes to listen to you. When you’re done, you clean off his face and he feels so much better. “I can’t explain it but I feel more like myself.” He says, looking in the mirror and trying to ignore the bandage over his eye.

“You look very handsome.” You praise softly, resisting the urge to caress his cheek. “The eyepatch we get you will make you look dashing and a bit dangerous. Like a spy.”

Dave winces, his head aching at your words and he hisses, clutching his head. “Are you okay?” You ask and he nods, taking a deep breath. “Yes. Yes. I - shit. Sorry.” He apologizes, “had a twinge of pain. A spy, huh? Maybe look sexy.” He flirts slightly, a smirk on his face when the pain fades.

You smile and nod. “I can see it.” You admit, even as you step back from him. “The doctor is going to come and see you one more time, then sign your discharge papers.” You explain. Being the nurse in charge of him had helped get him prioritized. “And I’m off for the rest of the week to help you get settled.”

Dave nods, “I really can’t thank you enough.” He says and reaches down to squeeze your hand. “Really, I owe you my life. Literally.” He murmurs and the doctor knocks on the door, “hey our John Doe. How you holding up?” He asks and Dave nods, “good. Thanks to an amazing nurse.”

Aaron is a good doctor and he smiles. “Well you have the best.” He compliments. “She has been dedicated to your recovery.” He glances over the chart and hums. “Despite your memory loss, everything else is looking good.” He had already gone through a memory test and he remembers the year and current events, just nothing about his life.

Dave nods, “that’s good. What are the chances of my memories coming back?” He asks and the doctor sighs, “it’s hard to say. These cases are difficult to assess. Your memories could come back over the next few days. Or it could take a while and something triggers it. Or they could never come back. Only time will tell.” Dave nods, a frown on his face but he’s accepting it. “Thanks Doctor.” He says and shakes the hand of the man who saved his life. “Of course. I’ll go write up your discharge papers now so you can get out of here. A change of scenery might help.” Aaron leaves the room and Dave sighs, “hopefully they come back in a few days so I can get out of your hair.”

Shaking your head, you move to start packing up the gym bag you had brought from your work locker. “Don’t worry about that.” You encourage him. “Best thing you can do is heal. And you don’t even need to come back to the hospital to have your bandages changed.”

Dave watches you pack up your things, his eye dropping down to your ass when you bend over and he swallows, knowing he can’t ogle you when you are his savior. “That’s good.” He nods, “I don’t like hospitals. At least I don’t think I do.”

“I honestly don’t know anyone who likes hospitals.” You admit with a small chuckle. “They are a necessary evil. But I will try to make sure you don’t have to go back.” You promise and gather the bag with his own things for him to go through when you get him settled. “Ready?”

He nods, knowing he doesn’t have anything but the scrubs on his body and his useless memory. “Yes ma’am.” He says and follows you out of the hospital room he woke up in. He should be nervous but his stomach isn’t twisting like he thought it would. He signs his papers and follows you down the hall and out of the ward. He hopes he gets his memories back. He wants to know who he is, but for now, he will follow you home.

Guiding ‘John’ to your car, you load him up and set out for your house. Talking as you drive, you show him the general area and point to a tower across the bay. “That had to be really dangerous during the storm.” You comment quietly. “I wouldn’t have wanted to be on top of that.”

Dave frowns, his head aching all of a sudden and he hisses. “You okay?” You ask and pull over on the side of the road. “Yeah. I’m good. I- shit. Just a headache. Must be from the head injury.” He reaches up to rub his head and you frown, waiting a few seconds for him to breathe properly.

You ask if he needs something, a drink or aspirin, but he insists he’s alright after another minute. You consider taking him back to the hospital but decide to continue on home. Pulling up into the driveway after a few more minutes, you park. “Home sweet home.”

Dave admires your home, “it’s gorgeous. No wonder you fell in love with it.” He says with a smile and you grin, “I know. I had to have it.” Dave struggles to open the door with his arm still in bandages and you rush around to help him. “I feel so useless.” He sighs, “I can’t wait to be functional again.”

“We will get you all healed up and better than ever in no time.” The loss of his eye will be a large adjustment but perhaps not having any memory will help him. He won’t be used to what he used to be able to do. “There’s a downstairs in-law suite with its own bathroom.” You explain. “It was my little library, but I’ll move the bed in there and make it nice and cozy for you.”

Dave doesn't know how he is ever going to repay your kindness nor does he understand how someone so beautiful can also be so sweet. It makes his spine tingle with suspicion even though he completely trusts you. "Thank you." He murmurs and you snort, "stop saying 'thank you', John." You scoff and playfully slap his upper arm. His hand immediately comes up to grab your wrist, a reflex he didn't even know he had. "I am - Jesus." He loosens his grip and lets go of you, confused by his reaction.

“Wow.” You aren’t scared, more like impressed at the speed that he caught your hand. You arch your brow playfully and hum. “Maybe you are a secret agent.” You tease quietly, wondering where he had come from. That's your biggest question. How he had come to be on your beach. Did he fall off a ship?

Dave snorts, “yeah. And an assassin.” He chuckles before he winces again. “Maybe we should take you back to the hospital.” Dave shakes his head, “no. No. I’ll be fine.” He promises, “maybe I just need to lay down for a bit.”

You guide him into the house and immediately show him to the couch. “Lay down here for now and I’ll get your bedroom set up properly.” You hadn’t wanted to leave him to set it up while he was unconscious. “Do you want a blanket? Let me get you a blanket, and some water.”

Dave feels like a burden already, something in him telling him he shouldn’t let you run around after him but he feels exhausted. He sits down on your sofa and rubs his knee with his hand as he watches you grab him some water and a blanket. “Thank you.” He murmurs, shifting to lean back on your sofa, relaxing into the cushions.

“You’re welcomed.” You spread the blanket over his body and set the water down on the coffee table. “Get some rest and let your body heal.” You advise softly. “You push yourself and it will take longer to recover.”

Sighing in reluctant agreement, Dave closes his lone eye and lets himself relax. Inside, he feels useless, like he should be better already. Like there's something telling him it's life or death if he doesn't recover. He falls asleep not long after you settle him and he doesn't realize how long he's been asleep until he opens his eye and it's dark outside. "How long have I been asleep?" He rasps, voice thick with slumber.

“A few hours.” You had tried to be quiet, but he had been dead to the world, sleeping through you disassembling the bed upstairs and bringing it down to rearrange the inlaw suite. “Are you hungry?”

He wasn't until you mentioned it but now, his stomach is rumbling. He nods and you smile, "good. Dinner is in the oven. Your bed is ready and I'll show you the bathroom. I'll change your bandages when you shower next." You say and Dave can't say 'thank you' again, you'll kill him, so he nods and offers you a soft smile.

You show him the house. Letting him know subtly that he can go wherever he wants. Finally bringing him to the bedroom you had set up for him to sleep in. “This is your area.” You tell him. “There’s a shower, but if you need help, you let me know. I am a nurse.”

He can’t tell you that you being a nurse means nothing when he feels his cock twitch when you bend over to grab a spare toothbrush for him from under the sink. It means nothing when he wants to push you into the counter and bury his face in your neck. He doesn’t know where the attraction is coming from, especially since he just got out of hospital but fuck, he wants you. Shoving that down, he follows out into the living room and he looks out of the window to the beach, the waves crashing on the sand. “It’s more peaceful than when I got washed up

“I’m surprised you remember that.” It’s a good sign, considering how injured he had been. “The storm was brutal, I watched it from between the shutter slats. I just hope you weren’t in it for long.”

“I remember some of it. Between unconscious and conscious. The crash of the waves. The harsh wind. I remember a moment that I thought I was in hell. I hoped I wasn’t. I don’t…I hope I don’t deserve hell. But that’s what I felt for a brief second. That I deserved it.” He frowns, letting out a thought that’s haunted him.

You frown, reaching out and touching his arm gently. “Well, this isn’t hell and you don’t deserve that. No matter who you were before that beach.”

“This isn’t hell.” He agrees, knowing you’re his angel. The woman who saved him from death. “Thank you.” He reaches for your hand, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it before he realizes what he’s done. “I, uh, sorry.” He murmurs, letting go of your hand.

“That’s okay.” He looks embarrassed and that’s the last thing you want. “Don’t be afraid to express yourself. We are in close quarters and I’m not offended at all that my ‘John’ has the manners of a gentleman.” You giggle slightly and bat your lashes at him.

Dave likes hearing your giggle, a smile on his face and he chuckles, “John. Definitely don’t think that’s my real name. It’s - it doesn’t feel like it’s my name, you know?” He tilts his head as he looks up at you.

“Yeah, you don’t look like a John, if that makes sense. But, do you want to pick out a name?” Maybe picking his own name will jog his memory. It couldn’t hurt to try. “Austin, Aaron, Anthony?”

Dave wrinkles his nose but his eyebrows raise at Anthony. “Anthony feels familiar.” He confesses, “but doesn’t feel…right. If that makes sense.” He tilts his head at you, “keep guessing.” He demands softly, “I’ll see if anything feels better.”

“Brad, Bryan, Boyd.” He shakes his head and you move on to the ‘C’ names. “Chris. Chandler- I threw that in because of Friends.” You joke. “Chad- no, no, you’re too handsome to be a Chad.” He wrinkles his nose and you grin at how offended he looks. Maybe because of the stereotype around the name or he just finds it offensive. “David? Daniel, and…..”

Dave frowns, thinking about the names, his stomach twisting and he looks up at you. “David feels…right.” He murmurs, his head aching a little and he wonders if that’s his name or if it’s totally wrong. “Shit.” He hisses, reaching up to rub his head.

“Is your head hurting again?” You frown and walk over to him, looking into his eyes. “Maybe- maybe it’s possible that your head hurts when you remember something.” You pose. “I need to do some reading on it.”

He closes his eye for a moment, trying to gather himself. “Yeah. Maybe. It - I feel a twinge in my belly when it happens. Maybe I am remembering something.” He frowns, opening his eye to look up at you. “Or maybe I need a painkiller.” He jokes, reaching for your hand to squeeze it.

“A painkiller can be provided.” You wink at him. “We won’t push you too hard, just whatever comes will come.” You squeeze his hand back and the timer in the kitchen goes off. “There’s dinner.”

Dave watches you make your way into the kitchen and he groans as he stands up. His arm still bandaged, he makes his way into the kitchen just as you are plating up dinner. “Best to have food with the pill. These are pretty strong.” You say and he nods, taking a seat. You hand him the pill and set a glass of water down, he swallows it dry without a thought. “Right then.” You snort and turn back to the counter to grab the plates. “This looks delicious.” He declares, “are you sure you’re not secretly married?” He teases, picking up his fork.

You laugh, shrugging. “Maybe I am. But then again, where are all the dirty socks?” You watch as he takes a bite and groans. It has to be better than hospital food and you try not to clench at the low growl of pleasure. He’s hurt, it’s so wrong to find him attractive and want him right now. “My dad used to leave his socks everywhere.” You explain. “Drove my mom crazy.”

With a snort, Dave sets his fork down, “I can’t remember shit but even I know that the way to piss a woman off is to leave socks and underwear on the floor.” He chuckles and takes a sip of water. “You’re a great cook.” He compliments you, picking up his fork after setting his glass down. “It’s a crime you aren’t married.” He murmurs, looking at you from across the table. He means it. Even if he barely knows you.

“Are you auditioning?” You flirt playfully, smirking at him. “I might snore like a banshee or have a really weird third boob that I hide.” You joke, taking a bite of his own meal. “I find it harder to believe that you aren’t married. Maybe you are. Maybe you’re divorced or hell, you might be celibate.”

Dave chuckles, “I don’t think a monk would lose an eye and nearly get murdered.” He raises his eyebrow before he sighs, knowing that the answers to that mystery aren’t available to him right now. He wants to know what happened. “I wasn’t wearing a ring when you found me, was I?” He asks, wondering if you noticed.

“No.” You shake your head, remembering to check him for a medical bracelet and you had looked at his hand. “No rings, necklaces or bracelets.” You shrug. “So probably not married.”

Dave nods, a little relieved by that revelation. He’d feel guilty for finding you so attractive if he was married. “Good. That’s…good to know.” He says, his eye focusing on you until you fluster and he continues eating.

The two of you continue to talk, he asks you a lot of questions about your life since he doesn’t remember his own and you fill him in. Enjoying the way he laughs and relaxes as he cleans his plate. “Do you want more?”

He bites his lip, knowing he shouldn’t eat too much but he is still hungry. He offers you a slightly shy nod and you chuckle, grabbing his plate to give him a second serving of food. “You really are a good cook.” He tells you as you set his plate down.

“Well then at least you don’t have to worry about starving.” You reach out and touch the back of his neck, the bandages covering the staples and you hum. “Tomorrow, we’ll change these again. But you are healing nicely.”

“I- hopefully I can remember who I am and I’ll be out of your hair. I’m sure you’ll be sick of me before too long.” He says, trying to ignore the way he shivers slightly at your touch.

“You seem anxious to get rid of me.” You wonder if you had been too pushy, if he would rather be somewhere else. “Hopefully I don’t drive you crazy.”

Dave snorts, knowing you are going to drive him crazy but not in the way you think. “No. No. I just- you’ve been so kind. I don’t want to be a burden. Well, a bigger burden.” He gestures to his eye, “you’re my saving grace.” He murmurs.

“Don’t put me up on a pedestal.” You shake your head. “I just want you to be safe and secure while you recover who you are or decide what you would do.” You bite your lip. “So often I can’t help someone beyond the hospital but this time, I can.”

Dave smiles softly, “it’s not a pedestal. It’s the truth but I understand. No more compliments.” He teases with a smirk, “no more thanks.” He winks and looks back at his plate, digging back in. He is torn on finding out who he is and never finding out so he can stay with you. 

****

It’s been a week since Dave has been in your home. He spends most of his days trying to see if he can recover his memory. Watching movies, listening to music. Anything that will trigger a memory. “Not a heavy metal fan?” You ask after he turns the volume down on your speaker. He shakes his head, “nope. Apparently not.” He chuckles. “Nothing yet. Maybe my memory is just…gone.”

“It’s possible.” You won’t sugar coat it, it is a possibility. “Then you will just need to figure out who you want to be.” Dave frowns slightly and scratches his head. He hasn’t let you help him too much, but you know he’s been struggling to help himself. He is the stubborn kind, for sure.

He sighs, “I know. I know. It’s - shit - I wanna know who I am because - because I want to know where I came from. What happened to me. So many fucking answers and I don’t know them because my goddamn brain won’t work.” He huffs, hitting his forehead. You open your mouth to protest his self pity when there’s a loud bang outside. Dave doesn’t hesitate, he shoves you down to the rug, covering your body with his. His heart beat in his ears is steady but loud as he raises his head to assess the situation.

You gasp when John - David, pushes you down to the floor and protects you. Never actually witnessing something like that before. Your heart races as he curls around you, waiting a moment before he is looking up. Searching the area for any danger before he even shifts slightly off of you. “I- I think it was a shutter.” You murmur quietly. “I didn’t secure all of them.”

Dave scrambles off of you, “shit. I’m so sorry. I didn’t - I don’t know why I did that.” He confesses, his arm aching from the quick moments as he shifts away from you. “I don’t - the bang made me react.”

“Don’t apologize.” You shake your head and lean over to check him. “Did you open any stitches? Anything hurting?” You ask, concerned more about his well being than him throwing you to the ground.

He shakes his head, "I don't feel anything hurting." He murmurs, still confused about his reaction. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" He asks, wanting to be sure he didn't harm you at all.

“No.” You promise immediately. “I have to admit that it was pretty sexy, protective.” You bite your lip and fluster slightly. “You didn’t hurt me at all. I promise.”

He nods, glad that he didn't hurt you and his cock twitches at you saying it was sexy. "You liked it?" He asks, a smirk on his face as he watches you shift onto your knees. He shouldn't be this cocky when he has one eye, a bandaged up arm, and no memory of who he is, but something inside of him seems to jump out, a confident man who knows what he wants.

“I didn’t mind it.” You admit, watching as he adapts the posture of a man who is very self confident and it’s making him even more attractive. “I know you are recovering, but you are capable and sexy.”

Dave likes hearing that from you and he shouldn't, especially when he hasn't got a clue who he is or where he comes from, but fuck, he likes the way you are looking at him. He shifts onto his knees in front of you. His hand comes up to cup your cheek and his eye searches your face until he leans in to softly kiss you.

You shouldn’t kiss him, not when you know that he’s missing key parts of himself, his history. You can’t help yourself though. It’s like you are unable to pull back, leaning into the kiss and you feel like this is meant to be. Like he was supposed to be found on your beach by you. It’s fate. You sigh softly when his lips touch yours and you lay your hand on his shoulder.

Dave presses his lips a little harder against yours, fueled by the simmering lust he's felt for you and the desire to feel something beyond the pity and frustration that his missing mind has been causing. His hand cups the side of your neck, his thumb caressing your cheek as he slides his tongue against your lower lip, requesting access.

Your sigh turns into a moan, opening up and feeling the slide of his tongue against yours. Stomach clenching and cunt fluttering in pleasure when he dives into you, taking what you offer. He might not know who he is, but he knows how to kiss.

His other hand finds your ass, squeezing as he drags you closer to him. His cock is half hard in the pants you bought for him and he is taken over by this need for you. It's been lingering - some unspoken thing between you - and he desperately wants you. To show you how much he appreciates you, wants you.

You shouldn’t let him. You feel almost as if you are taking advantage but you know he wants this too. “You don’t have to.” You murmur softly, pulling back for just a moment so he knows that it’s not that he has to please you to stay.

He snorts, nudging his nose against yours, “I know I don’t have to. I want to. If you want to.” He adds, pulling back so he can look at you. “If you want to.” He repeats, his hand shifting away from your ass to give you a moment to think about it. You hesitate, exhaling shakily, and he doesn’t push, shifting away from you. “I’m sorry. I- I shouldn’t have done that. Made you uncomfortable.”

“No, I want to.” You confess, feeling your cheeks grow hot. “I’ve been attracted to you since the beginning. I just don’t want to hurt you. You’re still healing.”

Dave shakes his head, shifting back closer to you. “I want you. Don’t care about my arm. I’m healing because of you. I want you.” He murmurs, leaning in to press his lips to yours. His hand finding your waist again.

You slide your hand up his shoulder into the longer locks of his hair now that it is growing out. Over the bandage and you are careful not to tug too hard as you slide your tongue into his mouth this time.

Dave groans into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours, and his hands slide down to squeeze your ass, dragging you closer. “Let me - sofa.” He grunts, pulling away from your mouth reluctantly and he shifts to stand up. He sits down on the sofa and pats his lap, wanting you to sit down on top of him.

You don’t stand, you crawl over to where he is, watching that one eye darken with lust. The twitching of the soft pants makes your eyes widen in mischief. “You don’t remember your last blowjob, do you?” You moan out, reaching the sofa and sliding your hands up his thighs.

He shakes his head, his eye widening as you look up at him and he swallows harshly. “You don’t - most women don’t like doing that and you - you’ve already done so much for me.” He groans out the last word as you slide your hand across his lap to squeeze him through his pants.

“You remember that women don’t like to suck a cock?” You hum, enjoying the thick feel of him. You had helped strip him down and have helped him around the house, but now you can enjoy this. “This woman wants to suck your cock. But I don’t want you to cum right away.”

Dave gulps, nodding as you hook your fingers in his sweats and he lifts his ass so you can pull them down enough so his cock is freed, pre cum already pooling on the tip. He can’t deny that he hasn’t imagined this. You on your knees for him. “I won’t.” He promises, his throat suddenly dry.

You decide that you will show him how good it can be. Kissing up his thigh and nibbling on the sensitive flesh. His stitches from the leg wounds have dissolved and you feel him jump when you kiss the scar of newly mended skin left behind. Biting his hip before you drag your tongue up the thick length of his shaft and over the sensitive head of his cock.

“Fuck.” Dave hisses as you take his cock into your mouth. His eye watches you as you wrap your lips around the head and start to take him deeper, a groan escaping his lips. “You look so pretty like this.” He murmurs, reaching down to caress your cheek.

You glance up at him and when back down to his cock. He’s pulsing in your mouth and you take him a bit deeper. Wanting to make this good for him as you remind him of what a blow job feels like.

He slides his hand lower to your jaw, feeling it move as you bob your head on his length. He groans when you swallow around him as you take him down your throat. “Jesus.” He hisses when you reach down to roll his balls in your fingers. “Baby. Baby. I don’t - I don’t think I’m gonna last long.” He warns you, tapping on your cheek.

His tap on your cheek is sharp, making you huff slightly instead of moan as you pull back. “Do you want to have me ride you right here?” You ask softly, wrapping your hand around his cock and pumping him gently.

He nods, a little lost in the feel of you, overwhelmed by your kindness, your beauty. He reaches for you, gripping the hem of your shirt to lift it over your head.

You let him take charge. Starting to strip you, although you unhook your bra when your shirt is on the floor. Drawing it down to toss aside and reveal your tits to him.

“Fuck. You’re so beautiful.” He murmurs, his hand coming up to cup your tit and he squeezes, leaning in to kiss along your jaw. “Do we need a condom?” He asks, wanting to be safe even if his memory is shot.

You know all the tests the hospital ran and they even screened him for STIs. “No.” You promise him breathlessly. “I’m on birth control.” You tilt your head to give him more access and push your chest into his hand.

His cock twitches and he slides his hand down to your leggings. “Take these off. I want to see all of you.” He demands, feeling needy for you after wanting you since he arrived in your home. “Please.” He adds, not afraid to beg a little.

You stand up and hook your fingers under your leggings to push them down. Smirking when you show David that you aren’t wearing any panties. “Never wear them.” You admit when he looks shocked.

“Dirty girl.” He smirks after he recovers, groaning at the sight of your curls at the apex of your thighs. He grips his cock, pumping himself a few times and he tilts his head, “come sit on my cock baby. Wanna watch you cum.” He demands, gaining his confidence back.

You bite your lip, stepping forward to straddle his hips. You caress his chest and reach down to take his cock in your own hand. “Fuck, baby.” You moan when he twitches in your hand. “You are so fucking thick, I can’t want to have you inside me.”

He gulps when you start to lower yourself onto his cock, engulfing him in a hot wetness that has his chest heaving. “Shit.” He hisses, his hand coming up to squeeze your breast as you sink down onto him. “So fucking beautiful.” He rasps, his eyes watching you take him.

Moaning, you feel beautiful. David has a way of making you feel like you are gorgeous. From the way he talks to you, to the way his gaze heats up when he is watching, you feel sexy. “Fuck, Dave.” You moan softly, shortening the name he had picked for himself.

Your moan of his new name has him twitching inside of you. It sounds so real, so good. It sounds perfect. His hand squeezes your tit, watching you acclimate to his girth until you’re comfortable enough to start moving on top of him. “That’s it baby, take what you want.” He orders, groaning when you lift up and sink back down again.

You don’t ride him fast, knowing that despite what he’s said, he’s still injured. You could make him reopen the stitches and you don’t want that. Slowly lifting off his cock and groaning when you let him fill you again. Sedately riding him as you press your lips to his.

He groans into your mouth, letting you ride him slowly and he caresses every inch of skin he can with one hand. His lips kissing along your neck and he hisses when you turn your head to kiss him again. His tongue slides against yours, his cock twitching inside of you when you clench around him.

Your moans are breathy and light as he twitches inside you. Breathed into his mouth while you kiss him back. Gorging yourself on the feeling of his tongue taking control and making you wetter and wetter every time he flicks his tongue against yours.

He’s in no rush for this to be over and he’s glad that he seems to have stamina. He’s not rushing to cum inside of you. His hand trails down your stomach, finding your clit, and he groans when he feels how wet you are. Slicking up his fingers, he rubs your clit slowly, not wanting you to cum just yet but wanting to hear you moan.

Whoever he was in a past life, David can make a woman feel amazing. Your back arches slightly when he starts to rub your clit. Pushing your tits up and you moan his name again. He's amazing and you fall even more for your mysterious man.

When you arch your back, Dave ducks his head down to take your nipple into his mouth. He sucks and bites while his hand continues to rub your clit. His eyes closed as he breathes you in, enjoying how you sound, how you smell.

It's easy to slip into the fantasy that Dave is yours. That he always has been and this is just a lazy day that you are making the most of. You whine when his teeth scrape over the sensitive bud of your breast and you breathe out an order. "More." You beg softly, gently pulling his hair again, taking care of the bandage that should be able to be removed in another week or so.

He doesn’t deny you, sucking harder on your nipple and he groans when you tug harder on his hair that isn’t covered by the bandage. He can feel your walls fluttering around his cock and he hisses when you grip him inside of you. “You’re so tight.” He murmurs into your skin as he switches to your other breast.

"You're thick." You moan softly, closing your eyes as he continues to ravish your breasts and you grind down on his cock. It's so perfectly erotic, building you up to a wonderful tension in your belly. "Fuck, Dave, I'm going to cum." You warn him, knowing that you are close to cumming.

He groans, his stomach clenching at the familiarity of the name falling from your lips and it feels so right. His name, you sitting on his cock, being here. It feels like it’s meant to be. “Do it.” He pleads, rubbing your clit a little faster as you rock on top of him. “Cum for me.” He begs against your breast.

​​He makes it so easy for you to cum, rubbing your clit like he knows your body inside and out. Your stomach clenches and you curl your toes when your body locks up in pleasure. Crying out again as your cunt soaks his cock with your orgasm.

Dave hisses against your skin as you clamp down on his cock. “That’s it baby. Shit. I- you feel so good.” He grunts, his fingers working your clit for a little bit longer until he pulls his hand away and grabs your hip, rocking you on his cock. “Fuck. So pretty. So good to me. Taking me so well.” He grunts, bracing his feet on the floor so he can thrust up into you.

When he takes over, all you can do is hold on. You feel how assertive he used the strength he has that has been regaining. Moaning as he works you through your orgasm to the point of overstimulation from the way his cock is hitting inside you. Making you feel like you’re going to cum again.

Dave grunts, jaw clenched as he leans back against the sofa, trying to work you through your orgasm while seeking his own. He thrusts up into you a half dozen more times before it’s too much. His cock twitches as he paints your walls with his hot seed, groaning when he feels you clamp down on his cock again, your hands gripping the sofa behind his head. “Oh my God.” You squeal as you grip him and he pants, head tilting back and eye closing at how good he feels.

You collapse against his chest and kiss along his shoulder as you catch your breath. Giggling quietly from the sheer euphoria of the orgasms and enjoying the slightly salty taste of his damp skin. “Well, we got our workout today.” You tease.

Dave chuckles, cupping your cheek to bring your face to his. His lips pressing against yours while he stares to soften inside of you. “And worked up an appetite. Are you hungry, sweetheart?” He asks, knowing you did most of the work to get both of you off. “I can make you something.” He nudges his nose against yours while his hand slides down to caress your back.

Since he has been here, Dave has started helping you, however he can. He’s a surprisingly good cook and has made several meals for you. “If you’re hungry.” You press your lips to his again. “I can eat.”

He nods, his fingers caressing your spine. “I make a mean sandwich.” He teases, kissing along your jaw. “Go clean up. I’ll get the sandwiches made.” He winks and you shift off of his cock. He will clean himself up in your downstairs bathroom. He shifts to stand up from the sofa, wincing slightly at the ache in his shoulder. He’s pushed himself but he doesn’t care. It was worth it.

**** 

The next two weeks is just a constant cycle of eating and fucking. It’s like the two of you cannot get enough of each other. There are tender moments between the more amorous ones, like the time you had your phone playing music and Dave wanted to dance with you, right there in the kitchen. His staples are removed, his stitches dissolved and he has a temporary prosthetic eye in place underneath the eye patch. You are completely in love with him and it’s obvious he feels the same way, although no words are spoken. “Hey babe, I’m home!” You call out, dropping your bags at the door and looking around for Dave.

Dave puts the finishing touches on the piece he’s been working on for a while. His therapist advised that he paint or draw, see if he can recall his memories while also doing some physio with his hand and arm. He has paint on his shirt but he’s proud of his work. He looks up from the kitchen table and stands, making his way out to help you with your bags with his good arm. “Hey sweetheart. Let me help.” He insists and carries the bags he can manage into the kitchen for you.

“Hey.” You drop a kiss on his cheek and smile at the way he just insists on helping. “How was your day?” You had stopped by and picked up the grocery order on the way home and now it’s just you and him for the weekend. “Get some painting done?”

Dave nods, “yes. I- I want you to see it.” He says, “I painted it…for you.” He confesses, knowing he isn’t the most skilled artist but something seemed to have ignited within him to paint something good enough to give you. He guides you over to the table where the art is still drying and turns to you, “it’s for you. How I- how I feel about you.”

It's beautiful. Not something you would see hung on a national museum's wall, but one that you know is completely from the heart. It's a painting of you. You bite your lip, eyes misting up as you look at him. "I- this is gorgeous." You murmur breathlessly, reaching out and cupping his cheek. "I don't know what is going to happen, but I feel something- a lot - for you." You whisper. "Dave Doe, I fell in love with you." You smile at the use of the generic last name, but your heart knows him.

Dave chuckles and leans in, gripping your waist to pull you closer. “I love you.” He murmurs, feeling like the words are a little hard to get out even though it’s what he feels. Something within him wants him to hold back his emotions, shut them down, but he shakes that off. “I don’t care what happens. If I don’t get my memories back…I have you.” He reassures you, “and you have me.”

“I want you to stay.” You admit softly. “Memories, no memories, I love you.” You promise, aware that you have to seem crazy to some, but you know this man is the man you are supposed to love. Leaning in, you kiss him softly. “I want to make love with you.” Since that first time, you had slept in the downstairs bed with him until he was climbing the stairs to your bedroom. He had never gone back to the in-law suite.

Dave nods, nudging his nose against yours. His hand finds yours as he ignores the groceries and guides you upstairs, his gait is better, more confident. He feels powerful despite his recent limitations. Opening the door to your bedroom, he turns and grabs your waist, pressing his lips to yours without another second to waste.

You are addicted to Dave. Reaching for the hem of his pullover shirt, you lift it over his head and quickly kiss him again. “I love you.” You promise softly, caressing the scars, older ones sprinkled in with the new ones that tell you he had had a dangerous life.

He grabs the hem of your dress, lifting it over your head to expose your underwear and he loves how beautiful you are, how relaxed you are in his presence. Something he knows deep down wasn’t normal with his previous life. He walks you backwards towards your bed, his hands sliding up your back to unclasp your bra and he drags it down your arms to expose your tits. “I want to taste you, baby.” He confesses, throwing your bra across the room as he gently pushes on your chest to get you to lay down.

You moan softly, nodding as you spread your thighs apart. Settling against the pillows and watching as he starts to undress. “You are so sexy, Dave.” You compliment him a lot, but you never lie to him. You find him wildly attractive.

He flusters slightly at your compliment, still unsure of himself after losing his eye and the scars that cover his skin. He shrugs off his shirt and pushes down his jeans along with his boxers to expose his body to you. He groans when you squeeze your breast, your eyes watching him as he kneels on the bed. His hands push under your ass, tilting your hips as he leans in to slide his tongue along your folds.

Dave doesn’t use his mouth often, preferring his hands on you, but when it does - it’s magical. Your gasp of his name echoes around the room and your hips would buck up if he didn’t have a grip on them. Your hands slide down to your tits, palming them. “Fuck baby, fuck, I love you. Love that tongue, love your cock, love everything about you.”

His tongue flicks over your clit and he groans when your hand lets go of your breast and your fingers slide into his hair. He loves when you pull on his hair. He grinds into the sheets as he flicks his tongue over your clit. His fingers squeezing your ass as he tilts your hips higher. His tongue slides down to push into your weeping cunt, his nose pressing against your clit.

Dave turns ravenous, licking into you like a snack cup, making you whimper while he works you over. Your chest heaves and body shakes as his tongue curls deep inside you and the pressure against your clit is increasing. Looking down, you watch him, clenching around his tongue when his eye meets your gaze.

Dave groans, his tongue pushing deep inside of you. "That's it, baby." He murmurs when he pulls away for a second, his hand sliding from under you to pull your folds apart with his fingers, his lips wrapping around your clit and his fingers slide down to push two thick digits inside of you.

“Ohhhh fuck, Dave.” You moan, closing your eyes in pleasure. Your hips roll down and you love how thick his fingers are. They are almost as thick as his cock, but not quite enough. Your walls clench down around his digits and he groans against your clit.

He loves the way you moan his name. It might not be his actual name but it feels so right. He groans and curls his fingers deeper, wanting to feel you clamp down on his fingers. He wants to feel you cum.

He’s not a selfish man, Dave will spend hours between your thighs if it’s what you need to cum. You love that about him. “Oh fuck, baby.” You whimper. “You are so fucking good, I love that tongue.”

Your heels dig into his shoulders but he loves it. He hisses into your cunt and he groans when you tug on his hair again. He sucks on your clit a little harder, fingers pumping in and out of your weeping pussy. He wants to beg you to cum for him but he doesn't want to pull away from your clit.

“You’re so good.” You whine, rocking your hips up. “So good, so good!” You cry out. “Oh god, Dave!” You scream out, body locking up and jerking in pleasure as your orgasm slams through you. “Oh shit! Oh shit!”

He fucking loves when you cum. His eyes closing as you clamp down on his digits. He hums around your clit, working you through it as you soak his fingers. His other hand grips your hips to keep you still so he can make sure you're boneless on the bed before he fucks you.

You love how fucking thorough he is. Love how he just gives you pleasure until you are spent, demands it of you. Making you whimper and moan some more before he decides you’ve had night and his tongue slows down and his fingers start to slowly pull out.

Dave withdraws his fingers, kissing your mound before he turns his head to kiss along your thigh. "So good, baby." He murmurs, shifting to kneel between your legs, his damp fingers wrapping around his cock to pump himself as he watches you recover from your orgasm.

“I need you inside me, baby.” You beg, sliding a foot along his thigh, ready to prop it up onto his hip so he can sink deep inside your cunt. “Fuck, you are so goddamn handsome and mine.” You purr possessively.

He nods, shifting closer, and he looks down at you, a soft smile on his face as you call him yours. "Yours. Like you're mine." He murmurs, notching his cock at your entrance, and he pushes inside of you with a groan. "All mine." He grunts, shifting to hover over you on his elbows, and he leans in to press his lips to yours.

You don’t rush him, feeling the emotional weight of the moment as you wrap your arms around him. Giving into the kiss and closing your eyes while your feet hook behind his back. “All yours, baby.” You promise when he is pulling back to smile at you. “Forever.”

He groans at the news, loving the way you take him, accept him. All of him. Even the missing pieces. “Fuck, I love you.” He murmurs, kissing along your jaw when he starts to move inside of you. Slow. He’s in no rush. He wants to savor this moment with you; the emotional climax before you reach the physical one.

“I love you too.” You whisper, giving him a sincere promise. You don’t care what his background is or what he’s done in his forgotten past. You love him. Even the strangely dark parts of him that he can’t explain.

He rocks into you, his hand finding yours to grip it against the pillow your head is resting on. His fingers tangle with yours while he kisses along your neck. No more words are exchanged as he rocks into you, breathing mingling as his lips hover over yours.

You pant quietly into his mouth, absorbing every thrust of his hips and taking him with an eagerness that cannot even be explained. It’s as if this is your wedding night and you are consummating your vows.

Dave groans, his tongue tangling with yours when he leans in to kiss you. He shifts his weight over to his other side so his free hand can caress you, squeezing your breast.

You moan his name into his mouth, arching up into Dave's touch. Rolling your hips with his steady pace and loving how this has turned into love making. Expressing yourselves with your bodies.

Your legs lift higher on his hips and he groans, pressing his lips against yours over and over. His fingers pinching your nipple but not too rough, just enough to stimulate you. He kisses along your jaw and down your neck, sucking on the skin above your pounding pulse.

"Dave, I love you." You moan, stroking his back and encouraging him with your moans. "I love you so much. So- fuck, so happy you washed up on my beach. Came into my life."

He smiles against your skin at your words, "me too. Fucking - fucking lucky to wash up on your shore. You saved me. My angel. My gorgeous angel." He murmurs, shifting his hand up to your cheek, caressing it before he leans in to kiss you again. "Want you to cum for me, baby." He murmurs, his hand letting go of your cheek and he snakes it between you to rub your clit.

“Oh fuck.” Dave has learned your body, knowing exactly what you need to cum and he’s a master at making that happen. “I love you.” You moan, pressing your lips to his desperately as you fall over the edge, clenching down around his cock.

Dave hisses into your mouth when you clamp down on his cock. He loves it. He loves you. He groans and works you through it, thrusting a half dozen more times until the heaviness of the moment hits and he falls over the edge with a groan of your name. His hot seed paints your walls and he squeezes your hand, your name a gasp from his lips.

The aftermath is always so beautiful, Dave collapsing against your body and panting as he tries to recover. You stroke his back, boneless beneath him. “Fuck, you are so incredible.” You moan softly.

He kisses along your neck, "no. You are. A fucking angel. I love you." He rasps, closing his eyes as he breathes you in and begins to soften inside of you.

You lay there, basking in the warmth of his affection and sigh. Everything is perfect and you hope that it never changes. “I ordered dinner before I got home.” You tell him quietly. “It should be here soon.”

“I amend what I said. You’re a fucking goddess.” He murmurs, pulling out of you and he kisses down your body. Flicking his tongue over your nipples, he continues his journey down your body until he’s settled between your legs again. “Reckon I can make you cum again before the food arrives?” He asks, raising his eyebrows as he pushes your thighs further apart. You nod and moan when he leans in to slide his tongue through your creamy folds. Your moan makes him smile and he knows this is where he belongs. 

**** 

Dave kisses your neck as you stand at the stove, making pancakes for breakfast, and the coffee is brewing. “Have I told you how fucking sexy you are?” He asks, sliding his hands along your hips. “Dave.” You giggle, trying to focus on flipping the pancakes when the doorbell rings. “I’ll get it.” Dave kisses your neck and smacks your ass before he makes his way through the house to the front door. He opens it with a smile still lingering on his face. “Dave?” A woman gasps and he frowns, “uh, kinda. Do I know you?” He asks and she shakes her head, tears in her eyes. “I’m your wife.”

Dave frowns, pain slicing through his head as his knees buckle from the flood of memories slam through him. His entire life flashing back into place and he groans, feeling her rush forward to touch his shoulder and he remembers her name. “C-Carol.” 

You gasp, dropping the spatula from the doorway to the kitchen when you hear the strange woman announce that she is his wife. Not wanting to believe that it could be true.

Dave feels sick. The memories of the things he’s done. The people he’s killed. The coldness in his veins. Carol knows about it all and he knows you’d hate him if you knew his background. He also remembers Molly and Alice. His girls. He can’t abandon them. His heart is torn between wanting you and pushing you away. You’d be better off without him. You deserve better. He straightens his back just as you walk in and Carol looks between you, immediately realizing what’s happened from the look on your face. “I’ve been searching for you everywhere. I couldn’t get hold of Resnik or the team to track you down. I’ve been trying to find you.” Carol chokes, “the girls…we thought you were dead.”

"He- he had amnesia." You choke out, looking back and forth between the pretty woman - his wife - and Dave. Your Dave was not free, he has a wife - maybe even kids. The idea makes you sick to your stomach and you wish you had been stronger to resist the attraction between you. "He- he washed up on the beach in front of the house. Badly injured." You explain, looking down at the spatula dumbly.

Dave wants to pull you into his arms, kiss you and tell you it’s gonna be okay but he’s a bad man. He’s a murderer and he’s married with kids. He can’t stay with you. He has to go home and back to his old life. He swallows harshly, “I need to go home.” He chokes out, hating how your face immediately scrunches up and your eyes start to water. “He needs to come home to his daughters.” Carol says, reaching out to rub his arm and Dave nearly recoils from her touch. He doesn’t want to go home with Carol. He wants to see his girls.

“I-I know.” You nod quickly. Of course he has daughters. He has a family, a life that doesn’t include you in it. “I- I’m sorry, please give me a minute.” You turn and race up the stairs. Needing to hide your tears and to pack the clothes you had bought for Dave, along with all of his things that have been mixed in with yours.

He watches you go and he swallows down the words he wants to say. That he wants to stay with you. That he loves you. He can’t though, he has to go home and figure out his life. “You have no idea how much effort I’ve put in to find you. I was expecting a body to bury. Not a fucking cheater.” Carol hisses and Dave turns to look at her, “I didn’t remember you. I lost my goddamn memories.” He growls, annoyed at his wife. One that he hasn’t loved for a long time before Robert tried to kill him.

Carol snorts, not believing the convenient lie that would absolve him from his part in the affair. 

“So what? You just happen to shack up with the woman who found you?” She gestures to his eye patch. “You can stop playing your fucking games David, you can fool her, I’m smarter than that.”

Dave scoffs, “it’s not a fucking game. She helped me when I was nearly dead. She saved me.” He hisses when he hears you coming down the stairs. “With her pussy?” Carol rolls her eyes at her husband. His face softens when he sees you and Carol notices that, huffing at the way he looks at you. He has never looked at her like that.

You had cried while shoving everything in a bag and grabbed his medical records. Drying your eyes, you know they are still red rimmed as you come down the stairs with the bag on your shoulder. “He- his medical records are here. His rehabilitation. His appointments for the glass eye.” You can’t look over at Dave, you know you will cry again, so you brace yourself and look into the unhappy face of Dave’s wife. “I didn’t- it- I’m sorry.” You whisper. “He really didn’t remember anything. And the police couldn’t find any record of him. He didn’t- it’s my fault. Blame me. Don’t blame him.” You hold out the records for her to take.

Dave shakes his head, “it’s not your fault. It’s mine. My past…it caught up to me.” He confesses and reaches for you to pull you into his arms. He breathes you in and pulls back a few seconds later to kiss your forehead. He wants to tell you he loves you but he knows that won’t help you at this moment. He steps back, turning his head so he doesn’t have to look at your face as he braces himself to leave your home. “Thank you. For everything.” He says when his eyes finally meet yours. You nod, your throat tight with emotion. Carol grabs the bag from you and touches her husband’s arm. “Let’s get you home.” She says, emphasizing the word. He nods, trying to commit your face to memory before Carol clears her throat and he steps back to exit your home, the place he came to call home.

The door clicks closed and the house is silent, mournfully so. Leaving you to absorb the fact that Dave - who really was Dave - is gone. And you didn’t even get his last name. Choking out a sob, you don’t care that the pancakes are burning or that the bacon is getting cold. You don’t care about anything, your heart is breaking, bleeding out of your chest. The man you love is gone.

**** 

“Daddy!” “You’re home!” The girls rush up to Dave and he kneels down, wrapping his arms around them and kissing their heads. “I missed you.” He murmurs into their hair, pulling back a second later. “Daddy! You have an eye patch.” Alice points out and Molly giggles, “you look like a pirate.” Dave chuckles, “yeah. Daddy had an accident and he’s sorry he wasn’t here but he is now. I love you. Both of you. So much.” He murmurs, hugging them close again and he hates how he’s had to leave you but his girls need him.

Carol stands back, watching the girls with their father and she’s still suspicious. From the looks of the folder, it’s true that he had amnesia, he didn’t remember her or the girls. But she still isn’t happy with the way Dave had looked at you. His heart was in his eyes and despite knowing all his secrets, accepting him for who he is, having his children - he never looked at her like that.

****

Dave tries to settle back in at home but it’s hard. He isn’t the same man. He doesn’t go back to work for the DIA. He can’t. Robert is still out there and he doesn’t know if he knows Dave is alive. It’s been a few months that Dave has been home and he can’t stop thinking about you. The television is playing some show Carol likes and he isn’t paying attention to it. Carol notices. She’s picked up how distant her husband is. He doesn’t touch her, he doesn’t kiss her. He is a different person. He isn’t the killer she knew when she married him. He’s softer…not as rough. Not the man she desired. 

“You thinking about her?” Carol asks without warning, making Dave turn to look at her. “Who?” He asks, trying to act indifferent. She says your name, ���I know you love her. The way you looked at her…you never looked at me like that.” She murmurs and Dave opens his mouth to try and protest but she stops him. “I don’t want you here if you don’t want me.” She says and Dave shakes his head, “but we are married.” Carol scoffs, “Dave. Don’t be ridiculous. You might not have died that day but you changed. You’re not the man I married. Go back to her. I never expected to lose you to a nurse…another agent maybe, but not someone…nice. Go back to her and if you want to come home, I’ll let you come back. You need to decide what you want. I don’t want a half marriage.” She confesses and Dave is speechless. He never expected her to be so selfless. “I need to decide.” He agrees, knowing he will be selfish, leaving his wife and his girls but once he decides, he will figure everything out. He knows he needs to see you again.

You hum to yourself, to your stomach as you work on the cake you are baking. Your life has been changed by Dave. You had discovered that you were pregnant after he had left and there was never a doubt in your mind if you were keeping the baby. It was the last piece you had of him, even if you planned to never let him know that he had a son or daughter with you. You couldn’t do that, even if you wanted to, you don’t know his last name. Pouring the last of the batter into the pan, you turn to place it in the oven and set the timer.

Dave shifts from one foot to the other, his bag on his shoulder and he takes a deep breath before he rings the doorbell. You don’t answer right away, opening the door several moments later and his eye widens as your head peaks around the corner. “Hey sweetheart.” He murmurs, his heart pounding in his chest.

You freeze, eyes wide when you see Dave and you immediately look behind him. Hoping that his wife isn’t here too, “what are you doing here?” You demand. “You can’t- Dave, you can’t be here.”

“I left her. Carol…she told me to come see you because I wasn’t - she knew my heart wasn’t with her. She wanted me to come back and if I returned to her, then she’d accept me back. If not, she would accept that too. She doesn’t want a ghost as her husband. I came back because I- I love you. I can’t stop thinking about you, baby.” Dave chokes, his chest tightening as you narrow your eyes at him.

“Dave- you have a family.” You whisper, guilt flooding your entire body as you straighten up and step through the door, showing him the rounded belly that houses his child. “I’m- we’re fine.” You caress your stomach. “I love you and I know that you need to be with them. They had you before I did.”

Dave’s eye widens at the sight of your round belly. He gasps and his hand reaches out towards you until he lowers it. “Baby…you’re - Jesus. I left you - you’re - shit.” He chokes and shakes his head. “I have my daughters but Carol - I don’t love her. I love you. Please. Let me - I want you. Shit. Our child.” He can’t believe you’re pregnant.

“What’s your last name?” You ask softly, reaching out and taking his hand so he can feel the baby. “I didn’t think to ask that day and you never came back.” You start to tear up, having missed him every day since he walked out your door.

“York. David Anthony York. I was born April 2nd, 1975.” He tells you, wanting you to know everything about him. He has to tell you the dark parts, his past. You deserve to know. His hand caresses your bump and his eye widens when he feels the kick. “Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” He asks, not caring either way, he wants a healthy baby.

You smile softly. “It’s a boy.” You tell him, remembering the day you had seen the very obvious boy parts on the screen. “I know you have girls, but hopefully you would be happy with a boy?”

Dave smiles, “I’d be happy with either. A healthy baby. But a boy…our boy.” He murmurs, wanting to kiss you but he refrains, knowing you might not want that. “God, our boy.” He says softly, his heart pounding and he caresses your stomach.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” You ask softly, afraid of waking up and finding this to be a dream. You would be completely heartbroken. “I have every intention of raising this little boy on my own. You don’t have to give up your life for me.”

“I’m not giving up my life. I died that day. The person I was died. You saved me. Gave me a new life. Baby, I need - I need to talk to you. I need to tell you what my life was. You need to know everything. Can we sit and talk?” He asks, adjusting his bag over his shoulder.

“Of course we can.” You nod and motion towards the kitchen. “Do you want some coffee?” You ask. “I’m drinking herbal teas these days, but I’m assuming you still like coffee.” You have a few muffins from your last batch, having started baking as a hobby during your pregnancy. It’s nesting you can only assume. “We can talk in the kitchen. I have a cake in the oven.”

“That sounds good, sweetheart.” Dave says as sets his bag down, following you into the kitchen. You start on making him a cup of coffee and he sits down at the kitchen table, watching you with a soft smile on his face. He’s missed you. So much. You set the cup of coffee down, still remembering how he likes it, and he admires the muffin you put in front of him. “Cake smells delicious too.” He says, “have you been working?” He asks, curious how you’ve been coping.

“I picked up a lot of shifts.” You nod, stirring the tea as it infuses with the hot water. “Practically lived at the hospital the first month.” You shoot him a guilty look and look back down at the cup in your hands. “Being here was….hard.” Despite having lived here for years before Dave’s arrival in your life, he had managed to ingrain himself into every corner of the home, expecting to see him every time you walked into a room. “I’m back to my normal shifts now. Because of the baby.”

“You need to be relaxing.” He tuts, “you should be resting, not rushing around a hospital.” He shakes his head and takes a sip of the coffee. “I’ve missed you. So much. I didn’t - I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“How are your girls?” You ask softly. “You have more than one, obviously. What are their names?” You’ve missed him too, but you want to know if he really is prepared to have them live in a split household. “I was thinking about you too.” You admit softly.

Dave reaches for your hand, “they are good. I have two. Alice and Molly. They have picked up that something has changed. Molly asked me why I’m so sad. Carol heard it. That’s why- I think that’s what pushed her to send me away.” He confesses, “I don’t - I don’t want to rock their world but what good am I as their father if my heart and mind are miles away?”

You feel your heart break and mend all at the same time. Squeezing his hand gently. “Dave, I-“ you are interrupted by the sound of another man’s voice. The same man who had come to visit you just days after Carol had come to take him away. “I knew I would find you here, Dave.” Your head turns to find Robert McCall standing in the doorway of your kitchen. You hadn’t even heard him come in. “That was a mistake.”

Dave stands up immediately, cursing himself for not having a gun. He hasn’t held one since before the accident. He shifts to stand in front of you, “McCall. I’m guessing you’ve come to finish the job. I get it. Just - just not here. Not in front of her.” Dave pleads slightly, holding his hands out in front of him.

You stand up, moving in front of Dave as Mr. McCall points the gun in his hand at the man you love. “Please. Don’t do this.” You murmur softly. “He's a good man. He’s- we are having a baby.” You remind him, caressing your stomach. “He has two daughters. Don’t leave them without their father.”

Dave looks at Robert over your shoulder before he shifts to stand in front of you again, “can I at least say goodbye?” He requests and McCall nods. Dave turns around to face you, his hands immediately cupping your cheeks after you stood up for him and he presses his lips to yours. A kiss to tell you thank you for everything, to say he’s sorry. A kiss to tell you how much he loves you. “I love you. So much. You’re everything. You and my children. I- tell our boy his daddy loved him. Don’t lie and tell him I was a good man because I’m not. I’ve done horrible things and they - my past - caught up to me. I love you.” He murmurs, pressing his forehead against yours as he breathes you in.

You start to cry, tears streaming down your cheeks and you can’t help it. You turn to Robert. “This man dances in the kitchen with me.” You sob. “He- he paints and he listens to music with joy and love. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone anymore.” You are begging for his life, but you would do it. “If you kill him, you will have to kill me first.” You declare. “Are you willing to kill an innocent woman? Her baby inside her?”

Robert stares at you for a moment before his eyes flick over to Dave. He doesn't look like the man he knew. Gone is that hardness in his gaze, the tension in his jaw. He looks like a man who wants to live but is willing to die for his family. The Dave York he knew would never sacrifice himself for anyone. "Don't kill her. Kill me. I - fuck - not her. Me." Dave begs, stepping in front of you again. Robert narrows his eyes, assessing the man in front of him. He raises his gun and you scream but Dave shoves you back, his hands shaking slightly, and that's when Robert lowers the gun. "You've changed." He observes and Dave nods, "I don't - that isn't me anymore." He confesses, "I just want to be with my family." Robert tilts his head, "and you will. If I hear a goddamn word about you being back in the circles, you're a dead man. I will kill you without hesitation and you won't know when it will happen." Robert threatens and Dave nods, "understood." Robert looks over at you, nodding his head, "be safe." He orders and spins on his heel, heading down the hall. You gasp after a few seconds and Dave spins, running his hands over your body. "Are you okay?" He asks, needing to reassure himself that you're safe.

“I’m- I’m okay.” You assure him shakily and cling to him. Trying to steady your breath as you run your own hands over him. You had thought he was going to be killed and you couldn’t live with that. “I- I can’t- he was going to kill you.” You whimper, tears spilling over your lashes again. “I couldn’t- I love you.”

Dave reaches out to wipe your tears away with his thumbs, "don't. He - he's gone now, baby. You're safe." Dave doesn't know that for sure but he won't waste time worrying about Robert coming to kill him. He has already lived more than he ever planned to. He could've been killed that fateful day he washed up on shore. "I love you. I love you." He repeats, leaning in to kiss your lips, his hands cupping your cheeks as he closes his eyes and relishes the fact that you are safe.

“I want-“ you close your eyes and lean into his kisses. “I want you to stay.” You admit quietly. “I want you to stay with me and the baby. It’s selfish and I shouldn’t want it, but I do. I want you to stay.”

"I want to stay. I don't want to go back to Carol. She knows that. The girls...we will share custody and Carol can have the house. I want to be with you. Our son. The girls. My family." He chokes and kisses your lips again. "Let me - I need to feel you." He murmurs, his body burning from the adrenaline and the emotions.

You nod, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Anything you want.” You promise softly. “I’m yours, Dave.” You start to unbutton his shirt, also desperate to make sure he is really there. “Wait.” A thought crosses your mind and you pull back. “Have you- um- since you’ve been back with Carol-“ you don’t want to risk the baby’s health if he’s slept with his wife.

Dave shakes his head, "no. I have been sleeping in the guest room. I haven't touched her. I couldn't. Not when - not when you were all I could think about." He confesses, his hands sliding down to the hem of your shirt but he doesn't move to pull it over your head, not without you saying yes.

“My body has changed.” You warn him softly even though he would be aware of that since he has a wife and children.

He scoffs, "yeah. You're even more fucking beautiful." He says and you let him lift your shirt over your head. He sighs, shifting to kneel down in front of you, his hands caressing your belly. "Hi buddy. It's daddy. I'm here. I'm sorry it took me so long but I'm home." He murmurs, leaning in to press kisses to your stomach.

You bite your lip, running your fingers through his hair gently. Watching as he coos to the child you had created together. “I love you so much, Dave.”

He looks up at you, his hands sliding lower to your leggings. “I want to taste you again.” He murmurs, pulling your leggings down along with your panties. He leans in to breathe you in, nose buried in the curls at the apex of your thighs after he ducks under your belly. The leggings around your ankles as he nuzzles your sex with his nose.

“Dave.” Your eyes widen slightly and you grab onto the back of the chair. You hadn’t expected him to be so eager he couldn’t wait for the bedroom, but maybe you should have. He’s always been eager for you. Now, your belly is big enough that you can’t see him and you whine softly. “I need you, Dave.”

He nudges your legs apart with his shoulders, tilting his head so he can slide his tongue through your folds with a groan as soon as your tangy arousal hits his taste buds. His hands find your ass, keeping you stable and tilting your hips so he has more access to you.

You moan loudly, aware that there could be anyone to hear you, maybe even Robert if he had not left. You don’t care, let him hear. Dave’s tongue carves a path through your folds and you whimper his name again, clenching around nothing.

Dave groans when you moan loud enough to echo in your small kitchen. He hisses when you rock your hips down and his cock presses against the zipper of his jeans. He smacks your ass playfully, working your pussy over his face while you reach down to tangle your fingers in his hair.

“Fuck baby.” Your head rolls back in pleasure. “Missed you so much. Fuck, I missed you. So much.” You whimper, tugging on his hair slightly. “My fingers and vibrator weren’t enough. Could never replace you.”

Dave groans at your confession, wanting to see that sometime, and he can feel how close you are with the way you’re tugging on his fingers. “Need you to cum for me.” He rasps as he pulls back for a moment. “Want to feel it. See it.” He pleads and resumes sucking on your clit.

You are so sensitive. So sensitive from the pregnancy. Whining softly, you feel the tension building in your core and it’s only a few short sucks to your clit later that you are cumming. Crying out his name, your thighs tremble and you rely on his strength to keep you upright. “Dave! Fuck! Dave!”

Dave loves the way you cry out his name. It sounds so sweet from your lips. “That’s it, baby. So perfect.” He murmurs, caressing your thighs as you recover from his onslaught. “I love you.” He declares again, kissing your belly and his cock is pressing against his zipper.

“Dave, I want you inside me.” You murmur, voice thick with pleasure. “On the table.” You decide, reaching down for him. “I can’t wait for the bedroom.”

He knows he should insist on the bedroom but he feels just as desperate to touch you. He shifts to stand up, carefully spinning you around and grabbing your thighs to lift you up onto the table. It shifts slightly and he reaches down to unbuckle his belt, hands fumbling as he tries to take his hard cock out of his jeans.

“You have me, baby.” You lean back on the table on your elbows and look up at him. “I’m all yours and you’re mine.” It’s humbling to know that he chose you, he put aside his life- his entire being-to be with you.

Dave leans in to press his lips to yours, loving how you so easily give all of yourself to him. He’s done terrible things in his past life and you don’t judge him. He grips his cock, pumping himself a couple of times before he notches the head at your entrance, his eye flicking up to your face to watch you as he pushes into you with a groan.

It’s different now that you are pregnant. Your walls are more sensitive, clenching down around him while your head rolls back on a moan. Hes thicker, that’s the only explanation for how fucking good he feels inside you. “Dave…..” you whimper. “More, baby, I need you.”

He doesn’t deny you. His hands caressing your body, and he squeezes your breast as he starts to move inside of you. “I’ll give you what you want. Whatever you want.” He vows, rocking into you with a groan. “So fucking gorgeous.” He murmurs, “full of my baby.”

You love him. You moan his name, loving how he is grinding up into you. Loving that he is here. With you. You know that things will need to be worked out, details seen to, but he’s with you. Hopefully Carol won’t deny him time with the girls. “Your baby.” You caress your stomach and smile. “You claimed me.”

Dave shakes his head, “you found me. You saved me. Shit baby. You - you’re a goddamn angel and I don’t deserve you. The things I’ve done…I don’t deserve you.” He pants, leaning down to take your nipple into his mouth, wanting to hear you cry out with pleasure.

“You deserve the world.” You insisted, crying out when he bites down on your nipple gently. “Baby, baby, I’m going to cum, you’re going make me cum!” You squeal, reaching down and rubbing your clit to give you that extra stimulation you need.

He bats your hand away, wanting to control your pleasure, and he hisses when you clamp down around him. “That’s it baby. Take it all. Cum for me.” He pleads, watching your eyes squeeze shut and you hold your breath as you start to clamp down around his cock. “That’s it baby. Shit. You’re so tight.” He hisses as you squeeze his length and soak him. “Shit.” He pants, trying to rock you through it and it’s been months since he came. He refused to have sex with Carol. He is pent up and it doesn’t take more than a half dozen thrusts for him to push deep and paint your walls with his hot cum.

You whine at the feeling, loving how he fills you up. Riding out your high, you watch his face. Enjoying the way his brow smooths out and his face contorted in pleasure as he rocks himself through it. “Soo good, baby.” You mumble thickly, smiling lazily. “Feels so good.”

He leans down to kiss you, mindful of your bump, and he nudges his nose against yours, “love you.” He whispers, his hand caressing your bump and he sighs when you kiss his chin. He knows he’s made the right decision to come back to you. 

**** 

“Girls. Girls. You gotta wait for them to cool down.” You chuckle at Alice and Molly trying to grab one of the freshly cooked cookies from the tray. “You’ll burn your fingers.” Dave tuts as he walks into the kitchen, your son, Anthony, in his arms. “He needs feeding, babe. I’ll deal with the cookie monsters.” He says, coming over to you to slide the baby into your arms. The girls squeal when he growls and rushes towards them in the kitchen. “Cookie monsters.” He playfully growls and they squeal, running into the living room. “They will be back before too long.” You chuckle, taking your breast out to feed the baby. “And before they are, I gotta tell you something…the divorce is final. As of this morning. So there’s something I want to do.” Dave reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small box. “You saved me. In so many ways. You saved my life. You saved my morality. You saved me from a job that nearly got me killed. You’re my angel and there isn’t a single day that I don’t thank God for you and our family. Will you let me make an honest woman of you? Marry me?” He asks, opening the box to display the diamond ring inside.

Your eyes widen in surprise, sure that despite divorcing Carol, Dave wouldn’t want to get married again. You were fine with that because you know what you mean to him. “Dave….” holding your son, you can’t fall into his arms but you immediately nod. “Yes! Yes, of course baby, I love you so much.” You promise, tears slipping down your cheeks.

He grins, leaning in to kiss you. After a few moments, he pulls back to take the ring out of the box. He slides it onto your left hand after you shift the baby over into your elbow and he looks down at the diamond on your finger. “Beautiful.” He murmurs, his eyes flicking up to you. The girls rush back into the kitchen and their eyes widen at the ring on your finger. “Oh it’s so pretty.” The girls coo. They were cautious at first, upset at mommy and daddy living apart but they have grown to love you. Dave grins, looking at his children before he looks at you and winks. No longer a killer, you saved his life and you saved his soul.

[midnightwriter21]

demon slayer hcs: muichiro meeting soulmate!reader

characters: muichiro x fem!reader, tanjiro (mentioned), nezuko (mentioned)

warnings: swordsmith village spoilers!!!

AN: soulmate au where the first words your soulmate says to you are tattooed somewhere on your body!!

MUICHIRO

MY BABYYYYYYY

alright so let’s set the scene

you’re already a demon slayer

so obviously you already know who muichiro is

i mean how could u not? he’s a hashira duh

but!

even though you know who he is… you’ve never spoken with him

UNTILLLLL

you go to the swordsmith village with tanjiro!

and happen to be taking a nap when muichiro comes to wake tanjiro up to ask some questions

when you wake up you see him sitting in front of the kamado siblings

you don’t say anything you just listen to their conversation

muichiro does glance at you when you first sit up but that’s it

no verbal acknowledgment from him at all

rip

but then a demon pulls up

and with one flap of his lil leaf fan

you all go flying

nezuko grabs onto tanjiro and is able to keep him in the building

but you and muichiro are zooming through the air

when you begin your descent towards the ground you attempt to grab onto a tree branch to stop your fall but you’re unsuccessful

you close ur eyes tightly bracing for impact

when you feel someone catch you…

and then throw u straight onto the ground lmfao

u open your eyes and look up to see muichiro staring at you blankly before he says

“for a demon slayer, you’re very uncoordinated. it’s a wonder you made it past the final selection.”

and then he’s off

running back to the village

not giving you even a second to say anything back

at first when standing up you scoff in half rage half disbelief at his statement

before u freeze and your face turns bright red

bc NO FRICKEN WAY

immediately ur pulling the hem of your shirt up enough to read the words imprinted on the side of your ribcage

“for a demon slayer, you’re very uncoordinated. it’s a wonder you made it past the final selection.”

girllll u got yo self a hashiraaaaaaaa as a soulmateeeee

after rereading the words on your ribcage for the hundredth time, you fix your shirt and take off in the direction that muichiro went

you don’t find the mist hashira

instead u find a demon!!

yay! isn’t that so fun!

a large slimey 4 legged fish demon with a vase sitting on top of its back

and in front of it is a swordsmith child struggling to fight it off

you of course stop running after muichiro and jump in front of the child

your first attack hits the vase, chipping the top off of it but not breaking it

the fish demon roars in pain

you ignore the pained cry of the demon and with a few flicks of your wrist the demon fish falls

cut into pieces

you turn to check on the masked child

only for the fish demon to regenerate

you turn to block the hit coming towards you but you’re too late

the fish hits you and you fly into a tree

the demon picks up the screaming terrified child and begins to squeeze

you stand, ready to fight for the child

when suddenly the arm of the demon is cut off and the kid goes flying into the air

you rush to catch him before he hits the ground

and when you look up after catching him

muichiro is standing in front of you both, sword at the ready

he tells you and the child to run

you stand up saying, “the vase. i hit it before. that’s it’s weak spot.” before pulling the kid behind you

muichiro nods at your words before destroying the vase and the demon

when the demon falls, the kid leaps from behind you, clinging to muichiro and yelling apologies for calling him a “seaweed head”

you giggle at the sight before turning to go back to the village

as you begin running through the forest toward the village

muichiro appears in front of you with the kid thrown over his shoulder

you stop in your tracks looking at him

he sets the kid down and opens the front of his uniform to reveal your words from earlier inked into the side of his ribcage

“the vase. i hit it before. that’s it’s weak spot.”

you smile at the words and then at muichiro who in turn gives you a small, almost unnoticeable smile back

and then you and muichiro speak the same words at the same time,

“be safe.”

and you go your separate ways for the rest of the battle

after the battle, the sun has risen and you find tanjiro, nezuko, and the others

but no sign of muichiro

looking around almost frantically, your heart beat erratic due to your panic

tears welling in your eyes at the thought of losing your soulmate after just finding him hours prior

when a hand gently sets itself on your shoulder

you spin around

and there he is

hair tousled from the fight

small wounds littering his body

uniform ripped open displaying the tattoo of your first words to him

but he’s alive

you launch yourself at him crying, “i’m so glad you’re safe”

and he smiles softly patting your head

“i’m glad you’re safe too.”

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

For your safety

Self-Aware! BSD x SAGAU Imposter crossover

Self-Aware! Tetchou Suehiro x GN! Reader

Description: Monster followed after you. Tetchou won't let him hurt you.

Warning: OOC. Implied torture. Mentioned of serious injuries. Nightmares. Panic Attack (heavily inspired by "Puss in Boots: The last wish" scene), English is my second language. Dehumanisation (Capitano calls Reader 'it', Captaino is called an 'it' by Hunting Dogs). Tetchou is a soft protective yandere (yandere, if you squeeze) towards Reader.

________

Who would think, that Watasumi will let Fatui into Enkonomia.

But, catching Imposter was more important, than honoring old traditions.

Because Imposter was here.

And it was finally in Capitano's clutches.

Dirty Imposter, a creature, that dared to walked on the land, blessed by the Creator.

This thing was hiding in an old ruins.

Dressed in rugs, it was biting huge chunks from mushrooms it cooked earlier.

Capitano adjust his hold on claymore's hilt. Just one swing, and it will finally stop poisoning Teyvat.

Capitano took a step forward.

And he made a mistake. He stepped on a twig.

It turned around. It looks scared. It has dried tears on its cheeks.

It ran. As fast, as it can.

And Capitano followed after it.

He catches it.

He raised its claymore.

And Bathysmal Vishaps attacked him.

The damned oversized lizards were attacking non-stop. Keeping Capitano away from it.

Fatui Harbinger saw, how it was riding away on one of the vishaps.

Capitano failed.

_______

It, eventually, was caught.

Justice was almost served.

Until it disappeared.

_______

Capitano, the strongest warrior of Teyvat, head of the Holy Guard, was laying on a deck of a small boat. The boat itself was covered under camouflage awning from camouflage net, seaweeds, rotten wood, old bones of sea serpent and dried dead fish. Few mechanical birds finish the picture. The camouflage was done so skillfully that even from a close distance the boat could easily be mistaken for a dead creature, entangled in garbage and slowly driven by the waves.

The navigation was hard, almost impossible. But Capitano didn't utter a word of protest. He must find, where the dreaded Imposter was hiding.

One month ago, right during their execution, they disappeared. And ever since then, Capitano was ruthless.

If it weren't for vishaps, Capitano would kill it. Capitano was too weak.

So, it was his fault, that Creator was in distress. That, while they were remaining perfect in every way, their cheeks have wet trails from tears on them.

But, this time, Capitano will do it.

He learned about a strange portal in one of the coves, located on a small island in the sea.

Capitano destroyed all documents he had.

No need to worry Creator even more.

He will get to the island unnoticed. And he will get Imposter's head.

The boat finally reached the island.

There were no humans, no animals.

And the portal was here.

Capitano stepped into the portal.

________

Tetchou tuck you in, making sure, that you are laying comfortably under your blanket.

"[Y/N], I will go and bring you some flowers, okay?" softly mumbles Tetchou, looking at you. You nodded, the corners of your lips weakly quirked upwards.

"Sounds good." whispered you. Tetchou's finger ran through your hair. He liked, that you started to smile. He didn't like, that smile didn't reach your eyes.

Tetchou left, and Atsushi Nakajima walked inside your room to stay with you.

Tetchou heard Atsushi's voice behind the closed door. It seems, he was telling you a story.

Tetchou bit his lip and headed to the first floor. He needs to go outside and pick you some flowers.

Maybe, they will lift your mood, at least for a moment.

But, before going here, Tetchou took his sword from his room. In case, people, who did this to you, appeared.

Two months ago, you disappeared. No matter, how hard they try, they couldn't find you. Until, one day, one month ago, you reappeared again.

And you looked awful.

Every part of your body were covered in burns, woulds and scars. You were starving, thirty, and terrified.

Doctor Yosano treated your wounds.

All of them made sure, that you are well-fed and always have water.

And they were doing whatever it takes to help you regain your mental health.

You were terrified of being alone.

And there were always at least one of them next to you.

You were terrified of being hit.

And they were treating you like the most fragile thing in the world.

You were terrified of Mori's voice.

And Boss of Port Mafia spoke only through Elise, whispering in her ear. He never raised his voice.

You have nightmares, waking up in the middle of the night, crying, shouting, that you are not an imposter, begging someone invisible not to hurt you.

And they were always near you, hugging you, drying your tears.

And mentally thinking about killing people, who did this to you.

Tetchou's hate was focused on Capitano.

________

A heavy foot stomped on your stomach, just below your ribs. It took all of your air out of lungs. You gasp, your mouth was wide open, but couldn’t get any air.

Capitano's booming voice filled your ears.

"Got you, little Imposter. Now, let me take that. We don't want you to miss it, aren't we?"

Two fingers pressed against your eyes.

A sharp, unbeatable burning pain.

"Here. Now, you won't be able to close your eyes ever again. Well, it's not like this ever will last for long."

Capitano raised his claymore.

You wanted so badly to close your eyes. But you don't have eyelids anymore.

The blade quickly sank down. Right in your face.

_______

Blood ponded in your ears.

You were breathing heavily.

Your heart was beating fast. You won't be surprised, if your whole body was shaking because of your heartbeats.

You can't focus your gaze in anything. Everything seemed like in a fog.

No sound escaped from your lips. Your moth and throat feels dry. Like you spent all your life without single drop of water.

You were choking. You were crying. You were sweating. You couldn't hear anything.

A heavy stone hand was put over your eyes. Now you were surrounded by darkness.

A heavy stone head was put on your chest. And it was moving.

up... down... up... down...

up... down... up... down...

up... down... up... down...

up... down... up... down...

up... down... up... down...

in... out... in... out...

in... out... in... out...

in... out... in... out...

in... out... in... out...

in... out... in... out...

You put your hand on Tetchou's head, that he laid on your chest. You whisper.

"Thank you... Tetchou..."

He took his hand away from your eyes. You two were silent. Tetchou were still breathing in the same rhythm.

And you were breathing with him.

______

Tetchou never told you, that you were screaming one name in your sleep.

And it was a scream of terror.

Capitano.

His enemy.

Tetchou was halfway to the flower beds, that Kenji made specifically for you, when he heard a loud crash coming from an empty barn.

_____

This man was huge.

Much taller, than Tetchou, dressed in strange armor, the man was towering over the member of Hunting Dogs.

Both males stood on the opposite sides of the barn. Tetchou was still standing near bars gates, while strange mad stand on the furthest wall.

Yellowish-ember eyes stare right into the black void of a mask.

"Who are you?" Tetchou's voice was emotionless. The man's booming voice echoed off the walls of the empty barn.

"I am Capitano, one of the Fatui Harbingers. I am searching for a sinful creature. Have you encountered an ugly creature this big?" Capitano moved his hand forward to show your height. "It has hideous..."

The rest of the words stuck in Capitano's mouth. A thin blade pierce through his palm, shoulder and sword's tip draw blood from his neck.

Tetchou didn't even move an inch. His eyes shrink.

"So... You are the same Capitano, who dared to hurt My Sakura Blossom... Our [Y/N]."

Tetchou dash forward.

And the floor cracked under his feet.

______

Tetchou never moved so fast in his life.

His sword was bending in impossible corners, piercing through Capitano's armor. Wounding, drawing blood.

Not killing.

The Strongest Warrior of Teyvat couldn't land a hit. Tetchou's determination to protect you, to avenge you, to keep you safe gave his strength.

The fight ended, when Tetchou manage to grab the hilt of Capitano's claymore.

Tetchou never used his ability on two-handed sword. Yet, a sword is a sword.

Without his legs, Capitano wasn't so tall anymore.

______

Capitano woke up in a room, that looked similar to Dottore's lab. He was suspended from the ceiling. Heavy chain was holding his arms together.

Hunting Dogs, except for Tetchou, were here. Jouno was the first one, who noticed, that Capitano was awake.

"So, it is finally decided to wake up." Jouno's voice was cold. Deadly.

Tachihara used his ability, to tie chains tighter. Accidentally' breaking Capitano's arm in a process.

"Here. It won't escape."

Teruko was almost dancing in one spot.

"Finally, I was dreaming about the moment I can get my hands on anyone, who dared to hurt our dear [Y/N]."

Fukuchi put his hand on Amenogozen's hilt.

"You aren't the only one, Teruko-kun. Doctor Yosano, should we start?"

Yosano, who was sitting in the dark corner, nodded.

Capitano got a taste of her ability for a few thousand times.

_____

Tetchou put flowers he picked for you in a vase. He noticed, how brighten up your eyes.

"They are beautiful, Tetchou. Thank you."

And a small smile. And this time, it reached your eyes.

Tetchou opened his arms, offering a hug.

And you hugged him, laying your head on his chest.

His arms wrapped around your frame. Protecting you from the outside world.

Tetchou promised to himself, that he will go beyond limits to protect your smile. No matter what, he will do anything he can.

For your safety

_____

Tag list: @withered-blossoms

[demonoflight]

Marina’s picture from Cap’n Cuttlefish’s Octarian dossier destroys me because like, It’s all cool-like with the Octoling Goggles and the Elite Octoling seaweed and all that stuff, and it would look kinda intimidating... if we didn’t know what’s behind those goggles.

And that’s the thing, we do. We know that if you take those goggles off, you’re just looking at a fresh-faced 16-year-old with the biggest softest eyes and cute worried eyebrows, and it’s like. You’re telling me an elite combat engineer in the Octarian army? That’s a baby. Hypercompetent engineering and musical prodigy, sure, but. THAT’S A BABY.

[clonehub]

there's surprisingly very little about clones that is determined by genetics. height, weight, fat/muscle distribution, stamina, and some aspects of mental fortitude definitely are, but a common flaw is for one to believe that anything a clone does or doesn't do, or thinks or doesn't think, is the direct result of genetic tampering. little to nothing is credited to the powerful force of upbringing. nurture. culture. ideology.

as a general rule of thumb, clones don't like fish. this isn't because there's a set of taste bud genes that the Kaminoans played around with, and it doesn't stem from Jango in particular. the clones don't like fish because they didn't grow up eating it, and they didn't grow up eating it (it is theorized, at least) because the Kaminoans themselves are vegetarian and eat a lot of seaweed. THIS is because the catastrophic event that wiped out most of their species also destroyed many of the prey they naturally fed on, forcing the remaining Kaminoans to subsist on more plant matter than they used to.

this is an example of unintended Kaminoan lifestyle influence on the clone's lives and interests. While the Kaminoan scientists most certainly brought in expert nutritionists, whoever was primarily in charge of building the menu would not have thought to add fish or fish products to the menu. this is the same reason why the majority of older generations of clones are lactose intolerant to some degree. Not only was Jango lacking the crucial gene, the Kaminoans would not have thought to supplement the clones' diet with dairy products because they themselves cannot digest it and the human species, while mammalian, gets weaned at about one and a half years old. That is the plan the Kaminoans followed. There are other, stronger sources of calcium that the Kaminoans put into the clones' diet to ensure proper bone development.

(in fact, the majority of clones' food was supplemented with nutritional additives rather than the nutrients being part of the meal itself, initially. Their diets are so strictly controlled that the Kaminoans would rather give the clones dried fruit flavored fiber sticks than fresh fruit. Fresh fruit was rare.)

Multiple things got more dairy and a wider variety of foods in general into the clones' diet:

Bounty Hunter and Drill Sergeant influence.

They brought parts of their cultures or personal influences to Kamino. They had special orders of the things they enjoyed, including icecreams, snacks, cheeses, etc. The "nicer" instructors would sometimes let a clone they liked sample a piece of food. This is also how it was discovered that every single clone was deathly allergic to the space version of a cashew nut (a flaw swiftly handled by the scientists via both allergen therapy shots for already-born clones and a change to the standard clone template).

2. Returning clone influence.

Clones coming back from deployment brought a plethora of goodies (illicit and not) with them. Foods, snacks, candies, miscellaneous ingredients, stories of what amazing meals could be had if you were savvy enough or adventurous enough lucky enough. There are rumors of a GAR galactic candy trading system that stretches all the way back to Kamino, though evidence of it is sparse. Even Captain Rex is reported to have brought back gummy worms when called to Kamino to give a training lecture to rising CCs. Though the bag was allegedly "family sized", it is unclear if the goods were actually shared.

3. Experimentation.

[This is actually canon lol] The Kaminoans found that clones were more enthusiastic about mealtimes and getting their calories in when the food actually tasted good and had more variety. Taking the previous two influences, the clones' diet on Kamino improved in both taste and texture -- but there's still no fish.

[uncharismatic-fauna]

Good Golly Miss Amazon Molly!

The Amazon molly (Poecilia formosa) is a species of fish found only in the Tuxpan River, the Rio Grande, and the Nueces River in northern Mexico and the southern United States. Within these rivers, P. formosa typically prefers slower moving streams and ditches with plenty of vegetation, and are usually found in freshwater systems.

Amazon mollies are rather small and plain. The body is teardrop-shaped, and adults only grow up to 10 cm (3 in) long. They are mainly silver in color, although they may have rows of small, light brown spots running down their sides. In addition, some individuals may have black spots along their dorsal and tail fins.

Like most other mollies, the Amazon molly is an omnivore. They may feed on algae, seaweed, insects, and mosquito larvae. In turn, they themselves can be prey for larger aquatic insects like giant water bugs, other fishes, alligators, frogs, egrets and herons, and racoons. To avoid predators, P. formosa tends to stay in groups where it is less easy to be singled out.

Perhaps the most interesting feature of the Amazon molly are its reproductive habits. This species is entirely female, and reproduces via a process called gynogenesis. First, females are courted by males from other molly species such as P. latipinna, P. mexicana, P. latipunctata, or P. sphenops. Mating triggers the release of eggs, but the male's sperm is destroyed before it can fertilize them. Instead, the male gets the advantage of increased attractiveness to females of their own species, as these females are more likely to mate with males that have already mated with P. formosa.

After mating, the female broods her eggs for 30-40 days. She then gives live birth to anywhere from 60 to 100 fry, which are all clones of their mother. These young recieve no further parental care, but are fairly independent and are fully capable of reproduction after about 1-6 months, depending on the temperature of the water; warmer waters increase the rate of maturity. Individuals can live anywhere from 1-3 years in the wild.

Conservation status: the IUCN considers the Amazon molly to be Least Concern. However, one of the species that are used to trigger reproduction, the broadspotted molly (Poecilia latipunctata) is Critically Endangered. Primary threats to the Amazon molly include habitat degradation or loss due to construction and damming.

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Photos

Dr. Manfred Schartl

[thegnomelord]

Shark

- 🦈

(WOBSVHDVUH. HOLY MOTHER OF SHARKS. HOW DO YOU WRITE SO GOOD. Gosh you, darn you, daum you. Fuel my god daum brainrot.

Now im thinkin of angst. DONT WRITE IT, I CANNOT HANDLE YOUR WRITING IN ANGST. THIS IS JUST A BRAIN BLURB.

Price is close to death whether it be the ultimte battle between the destruction of all that can die or of a horrid enemy, they have yet to defeat.

Price is alive, but too far to be ever saved. The boys want to summon their captain's ole friend, to say a well had goodbye, maybe even save him. But no books, no scrolls, nor anything etched in stone on the surface depicts them. Nothing.

Price dies knowing hes lived a good life, praying to all the gods that his beloved eldritch dosent destroy the surface he called home.

The only way the poor eldritch finds out, are when Prices ashes are swallowed by the waves.

In every storm, waves tower over the heights of skyscraper, to the point not even those that could fly can cross. Death is quick when it comes to the ocean, like it trying to collect all power it can withhold. Creatures are cruel when it comes to what has killed their gods beloved, relentlessly acttacting what they can. Sharks are rare, to the point their sighting have come near myth or legend. Yet, they will always come come towards any that is draconic for they miss them. Ocean creatures, humanoid or not, would cry with no control, close to fire, dragons or smoke. They grieve. They all grieve.

But, Dragons seem to live longer when close to the waves. Saving them in dire situations when the fall from they sky, wounds healed when submerged in the salty sea. Even if you were pure fire, absolute whole magma. You'd be saftely cradled in any and all water. Water is the safest, the safest they have ever felt in all of their exsistence. They know this feeling, it is old, it is familiar, it is embedded in blood.

For the ocean rembers, it always remembers.)

Okay honestly your brain farts are always so good but. . . But . . . I'm so sorry sharky. This came to before you even wrote your ask and now I have to do it, you're just the sacrificial goat. . .

CW: SFW, angst, made myself cry :/ Got some idea inspo from @heliumknife

John Price doesn't die on a notable day. He doesn't die on the day of reckoning, doesn't die on the day fire rains from the sky and blood muddles your oceans, doesn't die alongside human gods, doesn't die on the day he may meet what made him and hear he was a good man.

John Price dies on a regular Tuesday night.

Not even a blip on the radar.

Having saved the oblivious world yet again he retches a bloodied cough as he stumbles on the beach he'd ended up on. His legs give out, the course sand rubbing his skin when he falls, red blood slowly seeping between the grains. Distantly he can hear his boys calling for him, watching the waves wash onto the shore, the tide too low to reach him; too low for you to sense him.

He can feel Gaz scrambling to stem his bleeding, Soap desperately searching through the first aid kit, Ghost barking on the coms that Price is hit. And as the world begins to grow quiet, the low murmur of waves washing upon the sand filling his ears, washed up amber glittering in his blurring eyes, the scent of seaweed and brine filling his rapidly slowing lungs—

Price smiles — he'll slumber with you soon.

Only when the morning tide comes in do you sense his blood, do you rouse from the depths like lightning, waking from a nightmare to find it has followed you to the waking world.

You're too late.

Like always.

He's so still.

Peaceful — worry lines and wrinkles smoothed out and face relaxed you could delude yourself into thinking he's just sleeping. Oh those dragons with their slumber; he'll grumble when you go to wake him, demanding five more bloody minutes of your attention as if he's the god here. Cling to you like a barnacle and growling like a kitten until you give in and lay down next to him. Give a rumbling purr and laugh at how he got a god wrapped around his finger until you shut him up with a kiss.

But you can't.

Your vessel's eyes keep darting to the blood staining his clothes, the crusted red lines trailing from his lip down his chin, the stillness of his chest, the silence.

They tell you John Price died protecting his team from a brutal foe. John Price died protecting the world. John Price died protecting the very people who in your recent shared memory had been happy to sharpen sticks and melt rock into to steel all in an vain attempt at glory. . .

John Price died a hero.

Your John died.

And you weren't there.

"Hey. . ." You look at Gaz when he speaks, standing on the opposite side of the medical table they've laid his body on. ". . .I know you two were, close." He chokes up, voice rough and nasally, fresh tear tracks staining his cheeks.

You envy him for it. For once you wish you were the ant on a circuit board instead of it's maker, just so you could see the world like they do, mourn like they do — open, visible, showing you cared, showing he wasn't just a toy in your sandbox. That Price was the voice you'd hear when loosening the noose of the rope, the beckoning call beyond the reach of your waves, the one that held that wretched excuse you call a heart.

But you can't.

All your treacherous vessel manages to achieve is a small dip in the corner of your lip. "So were you." Your voice is low and garbled like you're drowning, the rumble of icebergs scraping on the ocean floor filling the silence behind each syllable.

Gaz flinches like he'd been slapped, unable to look at the man he loved as much as you did. "Yeah," His gaze flickers everywhere like fleeing fishes in a reef, "I'm sorry." He blurts out.

"Don't be." You don't look at him, your cold hand reaching out to trace Price's jaw, coarse beard scratching your flesh. "You loved him when I couldn't." A part of you wants to be angry at Gaz for harboring John's affection and attention, that it's not fair for him to be able to mourn when you've known your John long before Athenians and Spartans decided to throw hissy fits in your waters. But you can't call yourself a lover he deserved when you met him so rarely, a blink of the eye for you and a century passes.

"Are you going to kill us now?" Kyle asks, not scared, as if he's expecting it.

It shames you, but you thought about it; of sea life growing gigantic and voracious under your influence, of making the sky weep in your stead, of violent waves rising up and devouring the planet for taking away your world. What's the point of it's existence when the one who made it shine has been snuffed out?

"No," You sigh in resignation. You can't, not while there are still people and places John loved, not while vestiges of him remain. You can't kill what's left of him, protect them like you couldn't do with him.

Gaz tells you they plan to cremate him in line with dragon customs, only to take a step back when you pick your John up to cradle in your arms, his loose wing draping over your shoulder, his head resting on your shoulder, nose buried in your neck as if he's scenting you once again.

"I'll come to collect the rest of you when you pass." You say before disappearing with Price, because if you had to answer Gaz's questions — Why are you taking his body when you weren't even there when he died? Why do you act like you care when you saw him so rarely? Why are you taking him away from Gaz when he was the one who loved Price? What gives you the right? — you would have drowned a country.

Water rushes around him the moment you are back in your element, holding him in a cradle made of your waters like the first time he'd fallen into the ocean so many millennia ago. Water bubbles escape his open mouth as your waves caress and kiss each inch of him, crusted blood muddling the brine around him as you pull him as close to your real body as you can.

Searching.

You can feel his soul once your waters have kissed every inch of his skin, faint yet stubbornly clinging on somewhere in the aether, no doubt giving Death a headache.

You were once a soul too were you not? Just a dead thing too dumb to know it died; somewhere deep beneath the individual writhing sharks and decaying corpses and fossilized bone making up your body resides your original one, nothing but a chunk of rock with the imprint of what you had as a skeleton at the time.

For if Death doesn't come to claim it, a soul won't die until the body's gone. You had slipped past the cracks, grew fat and large on the other souls until Death could no longer touch you without fear of being swallowed whole.

You doubt it would let Price slip through like it had with you, fortunately you put claim on his soul long ago. You swim to the deepest part of the earth where burning geothermal vents spew minerals into freezing cold waters, where you slumber and feed on the souls of the dead.

You curl around him, living and dead bodies parting until Price rests wrapped around the oldest part of you.

Embracing you like he always wanted to.

He waited so long for you.

Now it's your turn to wait. This time you will be there.

And if the oceans above rage for months, if the season long rain floods the streets, if the weather makes it so that in the crushing depths no one can pick out your tears from the ocean brine, all the better.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

what if the animorphs were in a world where the only animals that existed were shrimp?

Andalites would be prawns, AKA Dendrobranchiata. Those are the shrimp known for their giant muscular tails — which can be up to a foot long — and their ability to shapeshift when young. Plus, they're one of several shrimp species that has four eyes, two of which are on stalks.

Yeerks would be sea monkeys, those tiny brine shrimp sold as pets. They can survive for a while outside of their natural (aquatic) environment, they're considerably smaller than other shrimp species, they're able to live off sunlight alone, and they're capable of reproducing sexually or asexually.

Humans would be common brown shrimp. Like the name suggests: they're common. They're brown. They're full of microplastics. They're endemic on Earth. They're what comes to mind when most people think of shrimp.

Hork-bajir would be cherry shrimp. Neocaridina davidi are known as good aquarium pets because they tend to and eat seaweeds, known to be good for the health of the plants. They're also notably non-aggressive, tending to avoid fights whenever possible.

Taxxons would be Dikerogammarus villosus, or killer shrimp. The reason these guys got their (rude) name is not because they hunt a lot, but because they eat everything, and have destroyed entire ecosystems in areas where they're invasive. They eat other shrimp, each other's young, plants, algae... In waters where they lack their natural predators, they're eating machines.

Leerans would be mantis shrimp. All we really know for sure about mantis shrimp is that they're definitely communicating through means beyond human ken. There's something going on with extra color detection, but for all we know they really are psychic.

The Ellimist would be whatever the hell is going on with Shrimp Jesus. Incomprehensible, terrifying, more machine than human.

[idksmtms]

You Are Not One Of Us (Poseidon x Norse Goddess!reader) - Part 3

Full Request - Part 2

Part 2 << PART3 >> Part 4

AN: I’m so sorry this is so late! I’ve been so busy with life and then I was so tired I kinda lost the motivation to write but I’m back now!!! Also, sorry this is so short, it's kind of a filler before all the big stuff happens!

Side note: I’m so proud of the way I choose to show their messaging systems - will continue in ending note - 

Summary: Forced apart, you and Poseidon try to find ways to communicate.  

Word count: 2,604

Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, innuendo, age gap (even tho they are both thousands of years old), god racism?? Idk they act like “foreigner gods” is a bad thing, lusting, liking the fact that he looks older (is this a warning???), (please let me know if I missed any) 

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians characters. I do not claim to own any of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so. 

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

After you were thrown from Olympus and forbidden to even be near your love, it stormed for two weeks straight. With every day of the storm, more houses were destroyed, more people hurt, with no sign of an end. The people trekked to Poseidon’s temples every day with offerings, they prayed until their voices were hoarse, but the rain didn’t cease. The people believed he had given up on them, that they had done something to anger him. They didn’t know the utter heartbreak that coursed with the ichor in his veins. They didn’t know that this was the true despair of a god, that it could destroy them all. 

You had been taken back to Asgard and cared for like you were newly-made, the Aesir tip-toeing around you and hoping not to set off any catastrophes. You had become numb since you had been brought home, moving around the halls of Valhalla like a lost spirit. Odin and Frigg tried so hard to bring you back, to do something that would return you to yourself, but it was all in vain. The only thing that you could possibly want was him. 

Every day you walked the fjords, standing right on the edge of a cliff, the breeze pressing on your back, hoping to push you off. You had roamed every inch of the fjords, combed every cliffedge. You waited for Pegasus to find you, to whisk you away to your love, but the winged stallion never came. You hoped for a sign, any sign that both of you weren’t lost to each other, but nothing came.

And then, when you were beginning to lose all hope, you looked down over the edge of the cliff, straight down and into the swirling waters that frothed and smashed against the sharp rocks. There was no pegasus, but a huge clump of seaweed. You had never seen the seaweed come up near the fjords before in your whole existence, not this much anyway. It was always deep under the water, or only a few specks of it floated up and washed ashore. But there was so much of it floating near the edge that it created an island on the water. 

Your heart stopped in your chest as you watched it float to the cliff wall and bump against it. Again and again it floated into the cliff, as if waiting for something before it would allow itself to disperse. You clenched your hands together, breath suddenly shallow, then took a run and jumped off the cliff. 

The water was icy, and your skin began to tingle as the bubbles floated up around you and to the surface. You waited until they had all disappeared then allowed yourself to push to the surface as well, treading water and staring up at the sky for a moment. It had been so long since you had gone swimming, since you had enjoyed the sea as you once had, and it felt immeasurably good to be immersed in it once more. You smiled, wider and brighter than you had ever done since being back from Olympus. You allowed yourself to drop into the water again and again, ceasing the swirling of your arms and legs to just float in it. It felt like a hug from Poseidon. Then you swam over to the island of kelp and began sifting through it. 

Carefully pulling each piece away and gathering it into your other hand. If it truly was a message from him you wouldn’t let any of it go to waste. It was slippery and a little slimy but you just held on tighter as you straightened out each piece and lay it in your other hand. Right in the centre of the bundle, you found five oyster shells. They were placed in a perfectly straight row in the perfect centre of the kelp and they were… perfect. You had never seen an oyster like that, perfectly black on the outside like a mussel but still rippled so you knew it was an oyster. You reached out and gently picked one up. Your hands shook and tears filled your eyes until the oyster became blurry. You wiped at them haphazardly, blinking until you could see again and the tears had mixed into the seawater. 

The oyster was just barely open, a thin crack that you tried to peek through, but you couldn’t see anything inside. You dug your nails into the opening and used whatever godly strength you possess to pry it open just enough without breaking it fully. It was a rather delicate task and you had to stop a few times for fear of cracking the shell, but when you got it open you found a beautiful pearl sitting in the centre. It wasn’t perfectly round (as you found that natural pearls rarely were) and was actually rather flat with its edges poking out here and there so it looked like a splash of water in pearl form. You picked it out of the shell, the oyster within not giving any resistance, and you held it in your palm. It seemed smooth, and glinted different colours in the grey light. You flipped it over, and you found that there were little scratches on the pearl. They were much too small for you to decipher at first, but as you brought it closer to your eye and realised that it was writing, your heart began to thunder. ‘To have and to hold’ was all it said. You stared at it, heart in your throat, and gently placed it back in the oyster, shutting it and resting it on its bed. The next was the same, except this pearl was smoother around the edges, almost like a flat oval. ‘For better or worse’ it said in the same small writing. The one after it was almost perfectly round but also flat and thin like a drachma. ‘For richer or for poorer’. The next pearl was sharp, its edges jagged and spiking out. ‘Until death do us part’. You caressed it, allowing the sharpest edge to cut into your skin and the bead of blood to stain the pearl. You whispered each word aloud as you opened the pearls, hoping that since you were in the water that he could hear it, that he would know. The final pearl was a perfect sphere and as large as the first segment of your pinky finger. The writing was inscribed around it, and you spun it over and over, reading the words until they were screaming inside your head, until you couldn’t read them anymore because your eyes were streaming with tears and you were sobbing so heavily that water splashed up and into your mouth. ‘I love you’ it read, inscribed over and over around the pearl so that it looked like it was scratched all over. 

You floated there for a moment, staring at the vows, at the pearls, then let yourself sink under the water, eyes closed. You screamed the words into the water, bubbles floating around your face, voice garbled, but you screamed until you had no air left and even your body began to tire. You wanted him to hear you, needed him to know. Then you surfaced, breathing heavily and feeling lighter than you had before coming to the cliffs. You looked at each pearl again, caressed them, then gently placed them back into their shells. You wrapped the shells up in the seaweed, creating a tight parcel and tying it up with the seaweed you had stripped away before. You stayed in the water a while longer, feeling the caress of it on your skin, pretending it was his arms wrapping around you, his fingers running up and down your arms. Then, when it became close to the time of the nightly feast and knowing the others would begin to worry if you did not show up, you grabbed the parcel and made your way back to your new home, a small house built at the bottom of the hills that led to the cliff edges. 

It was more of a hut, built in the viking style and furnished sparsely. You had lost all your taste for glamour in the last weeks, lost the feeling of being a goddess, and had conjured this place, quiet and secluded and right by the cliffs you had once enjoyed. You left the pile of seaweed in the hall of the house by the entrance, thinking of ways to decorate your house with it. You placed the shells in order on a shelf just above your bed. You didn’t want the pearls themselves to be exposed, just in case someone came snooping. You looked at them longingly and kissed each shell before making the journey back to Valhalla. You had to find a way to send a message in return. You had to. 

Poseidon sat on the beach he had once brought you to. He stared out at the water’s edge, watching a happy couple walk along it, a woman in a beautiful dress kicking up splashes of water and the man staring down at her with such devotion in his eyes. He watched them press close to each other, walk further into the water, let it roll over them. He watched them kiss, felt it on his own lips, then a wave crashed over the shadows and they disappeared into seafoam and the sparkle of sunlight on the water. 

Poseidon pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, sighing heavily and shaking his head as he muttered angrily to himself. Though he had been forced to stop the storms lest he flood all of Greece, the one in his head never ceased. You were his every thought, consuming him from the inside. He had gone to the lake on Olympus everyday for the week he had been forced to stay there after your banishment. Zeus has wanted all the gods together to feast and be merry for the return of his bolt. Poseidon had not spoken a word the entire time, glaring at his brother with such fire that even Hephaestus could not conjure a flame with such heat. The rest of the time was either spent watching Hermes, trying to figure out if all of this was really his doing, or making the trek to the lake to sit on one of the boulders, feet dipped into the water, and reminiscing on the time he had with you. 

Even since had returned to his domain, nothing felt right. The usually comforting embrace of the water now felt hollow. The feeling of the sand under his feet did not mean anything now that he couldn’t share it with you. He no longer felt like the god of the seas, just a god of… nothing. Everywhere he looked he saw something that reminded him of you. He could not escape your memory even if he were trying. Even now, sitting on the beach where you had first kissed, he could only hope you had received his pearls, his vows of marriage. 

A butterfly, blue and shiny, fluttered into view. He watched it flap its wings and fly in little twirls, as if looking for something. Then it began to flutter closer, circling its way to him.  He watched the little creature with a sad smile, wishing you were here to see it. He knew you would love it. But the butterfly kept coming closer, flittering and fluttering until it sat itself on the tip of his nose. His eyes crossed as he tried to stare at it, eyebrows knitting in a frown, as the insect flapped its wings once, twice, then laid them out flat and stopped moving entirely. Without the strength of its little legs gripping to his nose, the butterfly fell away and into his lap, laying on his thigh as still and dead as he felt. His frown deepened, staring at the creature with its legs poking up into the air and wings perfectly flat. 

The structure and pattern suggested it was a monarch butterfly, but they didn’t come in blue. It was old, at least for its species, around 6 weeks if he were to guess, right at the end of its life. With the gentlest movements, he dug his fingertips under the wings of the dead butterfly and lifted it closer to his eyes. He flipped it over and examined the backs of its wings, the beautiful blue that somehow shined even brighter now that it was dead. He stared at the black lines that swirled over the wings, creating little pockets of blue and edged with dots of white. It was in the black lines that he found writing, in the smallest letters possible. Where the lines swirled and made pockets, letters followed them. And there, on the wings of this butterfly that seemed to randomly appear on this beach and randomly choose to land on him, he found his wedding vows. Each one he had sent, returned in the beautiful writing of a goddess. And right at the bottom, in the biggest letters, ‘I love you’. He could almost hear your voice, a whisper in the wind, and he closed his eyes lest the tears fall. 

Years passed without a word from neither him nor you. You had settled into your life with the Aesir again, comforted by the pearls that sat above your bed. You opened the shells every night and gazed at them, whispering the words and hoping that somewhere in the sea he felt your love. He too returned to his palace underwater, the butterfly encased in clear ice to be frozen as long as he lived, a reminder that you had said yes, that you had married him. Both of you felt safer knowing he was yours and you were his. It was not a traditional wedding by any means, but it was yours, and you would cherish it until the end of your days. 

After the first three decades of peace and no sign of anyone knowing that you had sent messages to each other, you sent one more, another butterfly with a simple reminder that you loved him. In return you received a conch shell, not too large but still a hefty weight in your palm. When you lifted it to your ear, in the whisper of the ocean you could hear his voice, telling you he loved you. Every night you put it to your ear and let it lull you to sleep. 

So many years passed in this way, changes coming and going, empires rising and falling. Suddenly the modem age arrived, bringing its technology and skyscrapers and all of you gods into each other’s vicinity once more. Now the Greek gods were huddled in New York, living lavishly atop the Empire State building while the halls of the Aesir occupied Boston, hiding in plain sight. The battles continued, the monsters still roared, but things had become slow, the gods became lazy. While you kept your cabin in the fjords, your connection to Poseidon and your homeland, you were forced to spend much of your time in Boston to keep yourself alive, to keep your facade with the other gods. 

The clashes between the worlds of the Greek and the Norse became more frequent, though all the gods kept their promise of staying away from each other. It was not until the battle of the Draugur that this promise was broken. That after millennia you were face to face with your love once more…

A/N: I chose things from the sea as his messaging system because obvi he’s the god of the sea. But I chose butterflies for Y/n because I see her character in so many ways that I feel the butterfly embodies. I was thinking of the butterfly effect (a butterfly flaps its wings in one place and a storm starts in another) and that’s literally Y/n because she’s this small thing who’s seen as gentle and underestimated but she causes all these big things simply by existing. And then butterflies are seen as small and gentle and colourful but there’s literally a species of butterfly that drinks the tears of turtles and that felt so accurate to her character because she’s seen as small and pretty and colourful (and she is) but she can also be vicious and violent for survival. Anyway, thank you for coming to my ted talk. 

Taglist: @thicficbich1, @pasta-warlord

[somethingclevermahogony]

A Recipe for Daropaka and a Korithian Meal

Hello everyone! (More than) A few days ago I said that, as a way to celebrate reaching 200 followers that I would make one of the dishes from the setting of my WIP. I did something similar for 100 followers which you can see here. This time around I put up a poll to see what dish you all would like to see based on the favorite dishes of my OCs. You voted for Otilia's favorite food, a cheesecake (Daropaka) from the land of Korithia.

However because I felt a bit bad about how long it took me to get to this and because I needed to make something for dinner anyway, I prepared an entire Korithian meal, specifically the last dinner Otilia ate before she left her homeland.

I will give a short description and some history for each component of the meal and will also provide recipes. These recipes come specifically from the Korithian city-state of Kalmanati.

BIG POST ALERT

The diet of Korithians is highly reliant on cereals, grapes, and olives. Barley is the most commonly consumed cereal and is used in the bread of most commoners. However, Kalmanati is famed for the quality of its wheat, and particularly among the wealthy, wheat is the cereal grain of choice. Legumes (Lentils, peas, vetch, beans, etc), vegetables (Cabbage, carrots, lettuce, seaweeds, artichokes, asparagus, onions, garlic, cucumber, beets, parsnips, etc.) and fruits/nuts (pomegranate, almond, fig, pear, plum, apple, dates, chestnuts, beechnuts, walnuts, rilogabo(Kishite regalu "Sunfruit"), bokigabo (Kishite botagalu "Northern fruit), etc.) also make up a significant portion of the Korithian diet, with meat (Cattle, lamb, pig, goat, goose, duck, horned-rabbit, game) and fish typically filling a relatively minor role except for in the diets of wealthy individuals (like Otilia).

Vinegar, oil, and garlic appear in almost all Korithian dishes and are an essential aspect of the Korithian palate.

Recipes below the cut!

The components of the meal are as follows:

Daropaka: (Korithian: Daro = cheese, paka = cake)

Karunbarono: (Korithian: Karun = meat, baro = fire (barono = roasted) )

Pasrosi Diki: (Korithian: Pasrosi = fish(es), Diki = small)

Psampisa : (Korithian: Psamsa = bread, episa = flat)

Akuraros : (Korithian: Akuraros = cucumber)

Ewisasi : (Korithian: Ewisasi = olives)

Funemikiwados: (Korithian: Funemiki = hill (mountain diminutive), wados = oil/sauce)

Wumos: (Korithian: Wumos = wine)

Daropaka aka Awaxpaka aka Korithian Cheesecake

Daropaka is a popular dessert in Korithia, however its origins predate Korithia by several thousand years.

The dish originates from a race of forestfolk living on the Minosa, known as the Awaxi. The Awaxi were a tall and powerful race, some rivaling even demigods in size. Aside from their size the Awaxi were also easily identifiable by the third eye which sat on their forehead and the porcupine like quills which grew from their shoulders, sometimes called the Awaxi mantle.

The Awaxi were a primarily pastoralist civilization, living in small semi-temporary communities where they raised cattle and goats. They are credited with inventing cheese.

The first humans that the Awaxi came into contact with were the Arkodians. The Arkodians introduced the Awaxi to metallurgy, and in exchange the Arkodians were given knowledge of the cheesemaking process. This early form of cheese was called darawa (Korithian: Daro) and was typically made from cow's milk and vinegar, the resulting cheese being soft and crumbly, similar to a ricotta.

Unfortunately peace would not last. The Awaxi settled disagreements and debates often through duels, rather than through war. While quite skilled duelists, their culture had no reference for strategy in battle and lacked the proper skills to fend off the organized assault from imperialistic Arkodians. The Awaxi were eventually driven to extinction, though they still appear as monsters in Korithian myth.

The Arkodians themselves would later fall, destroyed by the Kishites, however many of their recipes, including their recipe for cheesecake, would be passed down to their descendants, the Korithians.

Recipe

(Note that Korithia has no distinct set of measurements nor are recipes recorded. Recipes are typically passed down orally and differ greatly between regions and even families. Adjust ingredients to one's own liking) (Also note that this is not like a modern cheesecake, as it utilizes a ricotta like cheese the texture will not be as smooth and it doesn't use eggs as chickens have not yet been introduced to Korithia)

The Cheese

1/2 Gallon of Whole Cow or Goats Milk

1 Pinch of Sea Salt

2 Bay leaves

2 Tablespoons of White Vinegar

1 Large Ripe Pear

6 Tablespoons Honey

2 Tablespoons White Wheat Flour

1 Tablespoon Rilogabo Juice (substitute 1:1 Orange and Lemon juice)

The Crust

1 Cup White Wheat flour

Water, Warm

1 Pinch of Sea salt

The Topping

1 Sprig Rosemary

3 tablespoon honey

2 tablespoon rilogabo juice (see above)

1 Large pear (optional)

Fill a pot with milk. Stir in salt and add bay leaves. Heat over medium heat until milk registers around 190 F, do not allow to boil. Look for slight foaming on the surface, when the temperature has been reached, remove the bay leaves and add vinegar, the curds will begin to form immediately, stir to fully incorporate vinegar without breaking curds. Stop.

Take the pot off of the heat and cover, allow it to sit for 15 minutes.

Using cheesecloth, a fine mesh strainer or both, separate the curds from the whey. Allow the curds to cool and drain off excess liquid.

Preheat the oven to 410 F or 210 C. Grease the bottom and sides of an 8 inch cake pan with olive oil.

While cheese is draining, make the crust. Knead the white wheat flour with a pinch of salt and warm water for about 15-20 minutes, until obtaining a smooth consistency. Roll a thin circular sheet larger than the cake pan. Lay the dough inside, trim off any dough which hangs over the edge of the pan.

Skin and seed 1 large pear, using either a mortar and pestle or a food processor, break the pear down into a paste or puree, there should be no large visible chunks.

Combine drained cheese, 6 tbsp honey, pear puree, flour, and rilogabo juice. Using a food processor or other implement combine ingredients until a smooth texture is achieved. Taste and add honey accordingly

Pour the mixture into the pan, careful not to exceed the height of the crust. Top with a sprig of rosemary and place into the oven.

Cook for 25-30 minutes or until the filling has set and the surface is golden.

Make the topping by combining 3 tablespoons of honey and the remaining rilogabo juice.

Remove cake from the oven and pour the topping over the surface. Allow the cake to cool

Serve warm, cold, or room temperature with fresh fruit.

Karunbarono aka Roasted Meat

Cooking meat on skewers is a staple of Korithian cuisine, so much so that in certain regions the metal skewers or kartorosi, can be used as a form of currency. Meat is typically cooked over an open fire or on portable terracotta grills, though it is not unheard of to use a large beehive shaped oven or baros. The majority of the meat eaten by the lower classes comes in the form of small game such as rabbit or sausages made from the scraps of pork, beef, mutton, poultry, and even seafood left after the processing of more high-class cuts. The chicken has not yet been properly introduced to the islands, though some descendants of pre-Calamity chickens do exist, though they in most cases have drastically changed because of wild magic. Animals are rarely eaten young, lambs for example are almost never eaten as their potential for producing wool is too valuable. Most animals are allowed to age well past adulthood, except for in special circumstances. The practice of cooking meat in this style is prehistoric stretching back far before Korithia or Arkodai. What is newer however is the practice or marinading the meat before cooking it, this is a Korithian and later Kishite innovation.

Recipe

1 lb Mutton (meat used in this recipe), beef, lamb, venison, or horned-rabbit meat (in order to achieve this it is suggested to use wild hare meat in combination with pork fatback) chopped into bite sized pieces

4 Tablespoons Plain Greek Yogurt

4 Tablespoons Dry Red wine (Any dry red will work, for this recipe I used a Montepulciano d'abruzzo but an Agiorgitiko would work perfectly for this)

3 Tablespoons Olive Oil

4 Cloves of Garlic roughly chopped

1 Small onion roughly chopped

1 sprig fresh thyme

1 sprig fresh rosemary

1 tsp sea salt

1 tsp black pepper

1/2 tsp ground cumin

Gather and measure ingredients

Combine everything into a large bowl and stir, making sure that all pieces of meat are covered in the marinade.

Cover and allow meat to sit, preferably in the fridge for 2 hours or up to overnight.

Well the meat is marinating, if using wooden or bamboo skewers, soak in water for at least one hour to prevent burning.

Preheat the oven to 400 F or roughly 205 C. Or if cooking an open fire, allow an even coal bed to form.

Remove meat from the fridge, clean off excess marinade including any chunks of garlic or onion

Place meat tightly onto the skewers making sure that each piece is secure and will not fall off.

Brush each skewer with olive oil and additional salt and pepper to taste, optionally add a drizzle of red wine vinegar.

Place on a grate either in the oven with a pan below it to catch drippings or else over the fire. Allow to cook for 10-20 minutes depending on how well you want your meat cooked (less if using an open fire) Check every five minutes, flipping the meat after each check.

Remove from the oven and serve immediately.

Pasrosi Diki aka Little Fishes

Despite living by the sea, fish makes up a surprisingly small part of most Korithians' diet. The most valuable fish typically live far away from shore, where storms and sea monsters are a serious threat to ships. Much of the fish that is eaten are from smaller shallow water species, freshwater species, or shellfish. Tuna, swordfish, sturgeon, and ray are considered delicacies, typically reserved for the wealthy. Marine mammals such as porpoise are eaten on rare occasions, typically for ceremonial events. Pike, catfish, eel, sprats, sardines, mullet, squid, octopus, oysters, clams, and crabs are all consumed by the poorer classes. Sprats and sardines are by far the most well represented fish in the Korithian diet, typically fried or salted, or even ground and used in sauces. This particular recipe makes use of sprats. Unlike their neighbors in Baalkes and Ikopesh, Korithians rarely eat their fish raw with the exception of oysters.

Recipe

(Note that unlike modern recipes using whitebait, these are not breaded or battered as this particular cooking art has not yet been adopted in Korithia, though it is in its infancy in parts of Kishetal)

10-15 Sprats (other small fish or "whitebait" can also be used)

2 quarts of olive oil (not extra virgin)

Sea salt to taste

Black Pepper to Taste

Red Wine Vinegar to taste

Gather ingredients

Inspect fish, look for fish with clear eyes and with an inoffensive smell, avoid overly smelly or damaged fish.

Pour olive oil into a cast iron skillet or other high sided cooking vessel and heat to approximately 350 F or 177 C.

Fry the fish in batches of 5, stirring regularly to keep them from sticking. Cook for 2-4 minutes until the fish have started to crisp. Be careful, some fish may pop and spit.

Remove fish from the oil and allow them to drain.

Season fish with salt, pepper, and vinegar and serve.

Psampisa aka Flatbread

There are many varieties of bread eaten in Korithia and grain products make up anywhere from 50 to 80 percent of an average individuals diet. This particular variety of bread is most popular in the southern and eastern portions of Korithia, whereas a fluffier yeasted loaves are more commonly eaten in the west and north. This recipe is specifically made with wheat but similar breads can also be made with barley or with mixtures. If you do not want to make this bread yourself it can be substituted with most pita breads. Bread is served with every meal and some meals may feature multiple varieties of bread.

(Note for this recipe I only had self-raising flour at hand which gives a slightly puffier bread, if this is what you want add roughly 3 tsps baking powder)

Recipe

2 1/2 cups white wheat flour plus more for surface

1 1/2 teaspoons sea salt

1 cup whole fat greek yogurt

Olive oil for cooking

In a large bowl, mix together the flour, salt and baking powder. Add the yogurt and combine using a wooden spoon or hands until well incorporated

Transfer the dough to a lightly floured surface and knead by hand for 5 minutes until the dough feels smooth.

Cover the dough and allow to sit for approximately 20 minutes

Separate dough into desired number of flatbreads.

Add flour to each dough ball with your hands and then use a rolling pin to flatten out the dough on a lightly floured surface. Size is up to taste.

Heat a pan on medium high heat. Add the olive oil and cook the flatbreads one at a time for about 2-4 minutes, depending on thickness, per side until the bread is puffed and parts of it has become golden brown.

Akuraros aka Cucumber (Salad)

While the cucumber has become a relatively popular crop within Korithian agriculture it is not native and was all but unknown to their Arkodian predecessors. Cucumbers, which actually originated in Sinria and Ukar, were introduced by Kishite invaders during the Arko-Kishite war and were subsequently adopted by the survivors of that conflict. Cucumbers are associated with health and in particular with fertility. Cucumbers are typically eaten raw or pickled. They may be used in salads or even in drinks, ground into medicinal juices. Cucumbers are additionally believed to ward off disease carrying spirits and may be hung outside of the doors of sick individuals to ward off evil entities. Cucumbers are also fed to learning sages, as they are believed to strengthen the resolve and spirit. A potion consisting of the magical herbs wumopalo and lisapalo, wine, and cucumber juice has historically been used to temporarily induce in non-sages the ability to see spirits. Dill is additionally believed to produce positive effects, thought to ward of diseases of the stomach and cancers. Dill is often used in potions which may effect the physical nature of an individual, these potions are rarely used as their effects are most often permanent to some extent.

This particular cucumber salad recipe is a favorite in the region around Kalmanati, Bokith.

Recipe

1 large cucumber cleaned

2 cloves garlic roughly chopped

2 tablespoons fresh dill chopped

1/3 cup red wine vinegar

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

Salt to taste

Pepper to taste

Cumin to taste

Cut cucumber into thin slices (the actual width will vary dependent on taste)

Combine cucumber and all other ingredients in a non-reactive container and mix.

Cover and store the salad for at least 30 minutes and up to 12 hours.

Serve cold

Ewisasi aka Olives

The Ewasi or olive is in many ways the center of Korithian cuisine, as it is also in Baalkes and Knosh. Olive oil is used regularly and the olive fruit is consumed at all meals of the day including dessert. Olives are cured via the use of water, vinegar, brines, or dry salt in order to remove their innate bitterness. There are hundreds of varieties of olive in Korithia alone, their taste dependent on when they are harvested, how they are cured, the particular cultivar, and even the soil in which they are grown. Kalmanati is best known for two varities of olive, the kalmi, which is red fleshed and meaty, typically cured in red wine vinegar, and the prasiki, a small green olive which is firm and slightly nutty in flavor.

Recipe

Take your favorite olives, put them in a bowl. Optionally add vinegar and herbs

Funemikiwados aka Hill Sauce

Hill sauce is the condiment of choice for most Korithian households and the exact nature of the sauce will vary greatly from region to region. In the north it is most often composed of pine nuts, olive oil, onion, vinegar, salt, and garlic. In the south the sauce is typically far more marine in nature, composed of seaweed, fish, garlic, olive oil, and vinegar. In all cases the ingredients are combined and mashed or ground to produce a pourable/dipable sauce. The sauce itself originates from the center of Korithia around the city of Bokakolis. The sauce was originally used by shepherds to flavor dried meats which may otherwise be dry or flavorless. Its name derives from the ingredients used within these early versions of the sauce, many of which were herbs plucked from the hillside while the shepherds tended to their flocks. The Kalmanatian version of the sauce is similar to this original herb based variety however it adds salt-cured fish and tisparos (Tisi - tickle, paros- seed) , another Kishite import (there it is called lisiki). This sauce is often used with practically any savory food, poured on meat, fish, vegetables, and bread. Often a house may be judged by the quality of their funemikiwados. Among the Kalmanatians there is two varieties of the sauce, a fresh version (the one described here) and another which is typically made with dried herbs and has additional vinegar added to act as a sort of preservative.

Recipe

1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil

1/3 cup red wine vinegar

2 tbsps rilogabo juice (1:1 orange and lemon)

2 anchovies (or other small salt-cured fish)

1/4 cup fresh chopped dill

1/6 cup fresh chopped parsley

1/8 cup fresh chopped thyme

6-10 leaves of fresh chopped rosemary

2-3 leaves fresh basil

2 cloves of garlic

Black pepper to taste

Ground tisparos to taste (Substitue ground sichuan pepper)

Gather the ingredients.

Combine and grind anchovies, garlic, and herbs into a fine paste, using a mortar and pestle or with a food processor.

Combine the herb paste ialong with the rest of the other ingredients and mix until completely incorporated.

Allow to sit at least 30 minutes, allowing for flavors to develop and properly incorporate with each other.

Serve with meat or fish

Wumos aka Wine

Wine in Korithia predates both the Korithians and the Arkodians, and had already been developed by several cultures on the islands including the Awaxi mentioned earlier. Wine is one of the most commonly consumed beverages, only surpassed by water, and slightly more common than psamarla, a Korithian version of unfiltered beer. Wine has many social, religious, and economic uses and is essential in the trade of the plantbrew, making up the base of many kinds of potion. There are many varieties of wine, with some being viewed as better or worse than others. Red wine is typically preferred for later in the day as it is believed that it helps to induce sleep while white wine is preferred for the morning and afternoon. Wine is typically watered down at a ratio of 2 parts water to 1 part wine, this may be either with plain or salted water. Unwatered wine is saved for special occasions and certain religious ceremonies in which intoxication is the goal. Wine may be sweetened with honey, figs, or various fruit juices. Herbs and spices such as black pepper, tisparos, coriander, saffron, thyme, and even cannabis and opium and various magical herbs may be added to change the flavor of the wine and to promote other effects.

Recipe

Pick a wine that you like and put it in a glass or cup. You can water it down if you would like but I didn't because I am not Korithian and this was a special occasion.

I finally got this post done! If you decided to read through this whole thing, thank you! Let me know if you try any of these, most of these amounts are ultimately a matter of taste, you can change things and experiment if you want.

Now we'll see if I get to 300 followers and we'll do this all over again with the food from another part of the Green Sea.

Thank you all again for following me, I've really enjoyed sharing my WIP with y'all!

@patternwelded-quill , @skyderman , @flaneurarbiter , @jclibanwrites , @alnaperera, @rhokisb, @blackblooms , @lord-nichron , @kosmic-kore , @friendlyshaped , @axl-ul , @talesfromtheunknowable , @wylanzahn , @dyrewrites , @foragedbonesblog , @kaylinalexanderbooks , @mk-writes-stuff , @roach-pizza

[burnwater13]

Concept Art by Ryan Church depicting the interior of the Razor Crest bridge filling with water as the Mandalorian stands within it. Image from The Mandalorian, Season 2, Episode 3, The Heiress.

Back in Reality

It took every beskar enrobed fiber of  Din Djarin’s being to not laugh as Grogu walked back and forth, waving his arms, stomping his feet and then shaking his little green fist. The kid wasn’t having a tantrum. Not really. It was clear that he was angry about something, but he wouldn’t slow down enough to explain what he was angry about. 

The best information the Mandalorian had gotten from his apprentice was when Grogu began to curse in Mando’a and he heard something that could be roughly translated to ‘stupid Sith ruin everything’. Djarin couldn’t disagree with that. Mandalorians might have spent a huge amount of time fighting the Jedi, but the ‘darjetii’ were considered an even bigger problem. 

But why Grogu was ranting about that while they were just having a pleasant afternoon on Nevarro completely eluded him. They hadn’t had any problems with Imps lately. They’d been planning some trips to visit friends like Peli Motto and Cobb Vanth on Tatooine, with a possible stop over on Sorgan or even Takodana. The only thing he’d told Grogu was that he really didn’t want to visit Trask this time. 

The last time they were there he’d found seaweed and a couple of those ridiculous looking, but tasty octo-crab critters. He hated when that happened to the Razor Crest, but it was even worse in the N-1. The stupid thing was scuttling around his seat and managed to get a good pinch in before he had a chance to deal with it permanently. Djarin was glad that he had a small supply of bacta, but he’d had to wait until they actually reached Nevarro before he could apply it. 

He didn’t think that Grogu really cared about missing out on Trask. Niebla and her husband, along with Tad and their other children, were actually off planet visiting family on Glee Anselm. Djarin had checked because Grogu had really wanted to Tad to see how much taller he’d grown since they’d last met. Djarin supposed that every centimeter counted when your species fell somewhere between Anzellans and Jawas on that parameter. 

No, it must be something else. Grogu hadn’t liked Trask very much even when they were just there to visit their frog friends. It had been smelly, cold, windy, and unfriendly, except for Niebla and her family. Even the other Mandos they had met there hadn’t been on anything like their best behavior. He wasn’t really surprised at Axe Woves or even Koska Reeves, but Bo-Katan had been less of an ideal leader and Djarin hadn’t really forgotten that, even with all the time that had passed since that visit. 

Maybe that was the problem that Grogu was ranting about? Djarin had suggested that they make a visit to Mandalore. Axe had asked him to visit and they really didn’t have anything better to do. But between the comments about who Mandalorians were and weren’t, what the Creed demanded and what it apparently didn’t care about as long as the former Mand’alor did it, Grogu had expressed, more than once, his general frustration with all things Mandalorian. 

Grogu had summed it all up in one of his rare comments in Gal Basic. “Not fun”.  He wasn’t wrong. Nothing about that trip had been fun. Djarin still had pains in his back and shoulders from that wretched mech-using critter, among other things. Having to fight so many warriors and then protecting him and the former Mand’alor when Axe crashed the Imp ship into the planet to destroy their dank farrik hidden base there… that hadn’t been fun for either one of them. 

“Hey, buddy, are do you have a minute? I thought we could talk about our next trip.”

Grogu looked up at him and Djarin was certain that he’d seen a brief glimmer of irritation. When Grogu ranted he liked to just do it and get it over and done with. It was pretty clear to the Mandalorian that Grogu was in no way, shape, or form done with whatever internal monologue he was engulfed by and wouldn’t be for a while.

“You know what, I’m sorry I interrupted you. Carry on.”

Grogu trotted off and continued with his silent diatribe and again Din Djarin had to bite his tongue to stop himself from laughing. He was pretty sure he’d just fall down and roll on the floor because there was just something so comical about his son’s behavior. Instead, he went back to the food prep area in the multipurpose room and began to make them both something to eat. 

That was always the best thing to cure Grogu of a bad case of the internal monologue. Feed him. As soon as he’d had a flash frozen froglet, or a gorg on a stick, or even a fire stack, he relaxed and whatever tension had been causing the rant seemed to leak right out of him. He slowed down a little. He actually chewed his food. He grinned at his dad. And as long as he didn’t forget to keep his mouth closed while he did it, Djarin found it kind of endearing. On the occasions that didn’t happen, well, he and Grogu spent too much time searching for errant frogs and cleaning up after them. 

Just as he was heating up a small pot of bone broth for them to share, he felt a thud against his right leg. Grogu was hugging it as if he might never let go.

“Hey, buddy. It’s okay. Everything’s fine.”

Grogu was looking up at him with tears welling in his eyes. 

“Love you, Dad”.

“I love you too, Son. I love you too.”

Dank Farrik! Now Djarin’s eyes were filling with tears. 

This is the Way.