#i'm just trying to carve a little horse from wood

[vvelegrin]

man it just feels kind of... i don't know. mean that with everything lately we're adding mystery joint pain, most persistently in my hands, to the pile.

like come on. come on. i can't even have this?!

[viharbinger]

dad! jin makes me so soft 🥺 i would love if u would write smth for him

pairing: (ghost of Tsushima) dad!Jin Sakai x fem!reader

warnings: female reader, pregnancy, marriage au

a/n: I wanted to make this gender neutral but I'm not really sure how to do that considering this is dad!jin so I hope you are fine with it anon! 😭 maybe I could've made him like have a child earlier before he met reader but that would be an entirely different story I could probably make on a different day

also side note sorry for taking so long I've been playing a lot of uncharted 😝

When he found out you were with child, it's like he's gotten a strong instinct to support you. He's been coming home everyday from his missions with gifts for you and the unborn baby, from a hand crafted child's toy to a hunted deer for dinner!

"Jin.... What is this?" You raised an eyebrow at the sight. A deer mounted on his horse. "Dinner. For you and the little one." He caresses your head, the other hand rubbing against your stomach.

"We can't possibly eat all this before it goes bad." And he replies, "We won't let anyone go hungry. Don't worry." He reassures you before taking the deer down and walking off towards the kitchen where he'll let the servants do the rest of the job.

Right. You do so happen to live in a really privileged and comfortable home. Such perfect conditions to raise a baby. "How thoughtful of you." You say as you follow him through the snow. It looks like you're going to give birth to your baby in the spring, beautiful timing, as Yuriko and Jin says.

You were four months along now, not like you can't handle yourself but Jin begs to differ. He doesn't like you doing anything that he considers 'too dangerous' like doing the laundry or even walking around the streets of Omi village.

Not like you don't do these things against his wishes behind his back though. You do love your walks in the village, but you also do love being pampered by your husband. Oh, he'd cuddle you like a papa bear and shower you with affection. In your last months pregnant, you'd practically run to the door when you hear him come home on his horse but immediately start acting like you were a waddling penguin trying to get to her husband.

"What are you doing up? It's getting hot out, stay in." He ushers you in, brushing the hair out your face that blew when the wind passed by.

And finally... When your baby was about to be born he was so nervous. It was a rough night for the both of you, especially for you of course. But he was pacing around the entire house as you struggled with your contractions. And then came out a healthy, chubby little baby boy.

He was so adorable with his little arm and leg rolls, he was loved by everyone in Omi village. Oh... And your husband just won't leave him alone either. You think that because he's brought him on his horse so much as a baby that that's the reason why your son is so eager to be on one now.

Your husband would wrap your baby to his chest and take him on short rides outside, whispering things to your baby that he won't be able to understand. He'd show your son where he used to spar with his uncle, or where he first met you, telling stories in sweet whispers.

Meanwhile, your son was just sleeping against his chest as he talks to him. Maybe he was more so talking to himself. Jin would also learn to carve toys out of wood for his little boy, which your son absolutely adores. He's definitely spoiled alright.

And in the future when your son gets older, Jin would be teaching him how to hold a sword and fight with it. You actually want him to start learning a little later but they never waited for your approval anyways. Having them sparring and practicing without your approval in mind, you don't say anything because it's definitely funny when they scramble for their words looking for excuses. Like father like son, I suppose!

[cowgurrrl]

Ok I have fluff angst idea…Charlie is pregnant and freaking out about telling Joel because she is kinda young. And Joel is mad, scared, excited , crying and also grandpa Joel?!

Hello why did this make me tear up

April, Come She Will

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: it’s canon to me that reader and Joel live to be 100 and nothing bad ever happens to them ever again

Summary: The next generation of Millers find their way [3.6k]

Warnings: teen pregnancy (what’s new for this series lmao), arguing, language, call backs

Charlie's been acting weird for the past few weeks. She's been coming in and out of the house at strange times, not showing up for patrol, and giving you vague answers about where she's been. She's nineteen now, so she doesn't necessarily need you and Joel breathing down her neck all the time, but you still like to know where your kid is. She tells you she's been with Ellie or her boyfriend, Eric, which is fine. You like Eric. You just wish she would spend a little more time at home. 

Charlie and Eric met on patrol. No matter how much you tried to dissuade her from joining the patrol team, she wouldn't listen. She had watched you guys go out and defend Jackson as she grew up and even talked to Ellie about her adventures outside the walls. She knew how to ride a horse, and Joel taught her how to handle a gun. The intention was never to "train" her for patrol but to be prepared in a worst-case situation where she needed to protect herself but the second she was old enough, she signed up. She got paired with Eric, a sweet boy her age she went to school with, for her first patrol, and that was it. They've been together ever since. 

Joel was hesitant when they started dating, but you reminded him she was an adult and could make her own decisions. Eric was somehow more hesitant when Charlie invited him over for a family dinner. Eric grew up hearing stories about your family, and his dad occasionally worked patrol with Joel, but knowing him by proxy is much different than sitting across from him at the dinner table. Joel promised to be on his best behavior, but poor Eric was terrified any time Joel asked him a question. Since then, they've gotten a little closer, but they are by no means buddies. You're a little nicer.

All this runs through your head when Eric trails behind Charlie into the house. It's a Saturday, and you and Joel are off patrol, sitting next to each other on the couch. You were supposed to go see Ellie and Dina, but they rescheduled for next weekend without much explanation as to why. JJ might've gotten in trouble. At seventeen, he has more of Ellie's wild personality than anything else. It's a little fun to watch her try to handle a younger version of herself. 

"Hey, can we talk?" Charlie asks, a slight tremble in her voice. You look up from your book, and Joel leans forward to drop his wood carving knife on the coffee table. She and Eric sit across from you, her leg bouncing anxiously when she does, and you glance between them. You're a little confused as to why Eric has to be here for this, but she's clinging to his hand so hard you almost worry she's gonna break it. Worry claws at the back of your throat, but you swallow it down. Whatever it is, you can handle it.

"Sure, bug," you say. "What's up?" 

"Um, so there's something I've been meaning to tell you, but I wanted to get some things squared away before I did because I didn't want you guys to freak out or anything. I understand this is a really big deal, but it's under control, and we have a plan." She explains rapidly, and Joel chuckles as he removes his glasses to rub at his eye.

"You ain't pregnant, are you?" He asks, and Charlie is silent. That's when you feel your heart drop to the pit of your stomach. Your mouth goes dry, and you sit up, staring at her like you're waiting for her to say she's joking. "Charlotte," Joel says, his tone even and scarily calm. "You're not. Right?"

"I'm sorry, Daddy," she says, tears shining in her eyes. "But we… we have a plan. We're gonna get set up in a house, and Ellie's gonna lend us some of JJ's old things, and we're gonna pick up some more shifts before the baby comes. It's all gonna be okay."

You can't help but feel like you set her up for failure, not only with your own teen pregnancy but with your inability to keep her safe. In the old days, you might've been able to put her on birth control or give her condoms when she started dating, but those things aren't on the top of the list for what little FEDRA manufacturing is left. The best "safe sex" talk you could have with her is letting her know her options if she did get pregnant or sick. You hated it, but there wasn't much else you could do. And now look where you are. 

"Mom, can you please say something?" Charlie begs as Eric rubs her back. You thought you'd be prepared for something like this with your and Joel's (and Ellie's) family life starting earlier than most. Instead, you find yourself, possibly for the first time ever, sympathizing with your mother. You pull yourself together enough to open your mouth. 

"You wanna have this baby?" You ask, and she nods. 

"We already decided. We're not gonna get married or anything yet, but yeah, we want this baby," she says. Eric doesn't say anything. You figure that's probably smart. It's only a matter of time before Joel freaks the fuck out about the fact that he got your baby girl pregnant. "That's why I went to Ellie's the other day. I was talking to her, Aunt Dina, and Uncle Jesse about when they had Jay." She says. You try not to be offended that she told Ellie before she told you. You told lots of people before you told your mom you were pregnant. Still, you thought you and Charlie were closer than you and your mom were. 

You look at Joel, the same panic and anger taking over his features, and take a deep breath. He grinds his teeth as he thinks, and you have to stop yourself from scolding him. When you look back at Charlie, her face is splotchy, and her brown eyes sparkle in the mid-afternoon light. She looks so grown up but so little at the same time. Your eyes slide from hers to Eric's wide ones.

"I'm assuming you know the stories about Jane and her dad?" You ask.

"Yes, ma'am." He croaks, and you nod.

"And I'm assuming you know how Joel and I got to Jackson in the first place?" 

"Mom," Charlie starts, but you catch Joel shaking his head at her in your peripheral vision. Eric swallows thickly and nods.

"Yes, ma'am." 

"Good," you say. "If I ever hear anything about you not being there for Charlie or that baby, or if you even think about leaving them, I'll fucking kill you." You haven't had to speak this way in years, and it, obviously, rattles both Charlie and Eric. Good. You hope it does rattle him. 

"Mom!" Charlie scolds, looking to Joel for help, but it's clear that he has your back with this one. You'll be damned if she ends up a single parent like you two were. She scoffs and stands, pulling Eric up with her. "You don't have to listen to this, Eric."

"Yes, he does." You say.

"Baby, what did you think we were gonna say?" Joel asks. 

"That you'd support my decision or, at least, find a way to!" 

"Of course, we support you. I just..." Joel trails off. "I just don't think you know what this means. How much this is gonna change your life. And I know you love each other, but havin' a baby ain't an easy thing."

"That's why we're doing it together," she says, her eyes moving from Joel's to yours. "That's why it's fucking crazy to talk to him like that. And unfair. You didn't act this way when Ellie had JJ." 

"That's because we didn't need to have this same talk with them. Jesse and Dina had already decided to co-parent Jay. There was no way Dina was gonna be a single mom," you say. "But there were three of them, and it was still hard. You were just a baby when he was born, so you don't remember, but it was a lot."

"So, you don't think I can be a mom?" She asks, and you stand with your hands up in defeat.

"I didn't say that. I just want you to be prepared. I remember what it was like, and I-"

"Just because you were miserable when you had Jane doesn't mean everyone is." It's mean and calculated and hits you right where it hurts. It doesn't matter if it's the hormones or not. The sting of her words renders you silent. 

"Don't you speak to your mother that way!" Joel yells. He never yells anymore, especially at Charlie. The scary boom in his voice fills the room, but you catch the glint of tears in his eyes as his breathing stutters. "This ain't just playin' house, Charlie. So, if your mama is a little worried, she's allowed to be. Shit, we're all allowed to lose our fuckin' minds for a minute, but that isn't an excuse to talk bout your family like that." He says, and she taps her shoe on the ground twice, a nervous tick she picked up from Joel.

"I'm sorry, Mom, but I can't just sit here and listen to you threaten Eric like that," she says. You nod but don't apologize. You can't find anything to say. Charlie stares at you like she's waiting for you to lash out or yell at her, but you can't. She wipes a stray tear away furiously and turns away. "I need some air," she mumbles, dragging Eric out of the house before you can even protest. The door slams behind her, and the floorboards she took her first steps on shake with the force. Joel reaches for your hand and pulls you into him. He murmurs soft assurances into your hair, his voice cracking and tears spilling from his eyes as he does, and all you can do is let him hold you. 

What the fuck else are you supposed to do?

You wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of the bathroom door in the hall slamming open. You and Joel jolt upright in bed at the sudden sound (old habits die hard, right?), and you sigh as you rub your eyes. You check the alarm clock next to your bed for the time and see it's close to three. The dark mountain town is still asleep outside your window, and you grab a soft flannel from the floor to pull over your shoulders. 

You don't remember falling asleep. You were up, waiting for Charlie to come home so you could talk further, but when the front door opened and closed, and she basically sprinted to her room, you couldn't find the energy for another fight. But when you laid down, you couldn't sleep either, your conversation from earlier playing on a loop in your mind. You and Joel just sat there in silence, staring up at the ceiling until your eyelids got too heavy, and you fell into a dreamless sleep. You couldn't have been asleep for over an hour or two when the bathroom door swung open. Joel looks at you, confused when you stand.

"What are you doin'?" He asks, and you wave him off.

"I know why she's up. Just go back to bed." You say without much explanation before padding down the hallway and into the bathroom.

Your footsteps are loud enough on the tile for her to hear you, so she doesn't flinch when you suddenly pull her hair away from her face and hold it out of the way. She glances at you and softens a little before retching into the toilet again. She does that for another minute or two before her stomach is finally empty, and you can safely let go of her hair. She sighs and leans against the wall as you flush the toilet and hand her a towel. You settle across from her, your back pressed against the sink, and rub her leg as she wipes her face. 

"Thanks," she mumbles as she tips her head back against the wall. She looks tired and weak. All you want to do is scoop her up in your arms like she's three years old again. "I feel like shit."

"I'm sorry. That's my genetics. I was super sick with you and Jane." Her name rolls off your tongue so fast you almost forget the last time it was invoked. The air stiffens between you, and she shifts uncomfortably. 

"How long were you sick for?" She asks softly. You sigh as you track your memory back and try to remember the exact details.  

"About six months," you admit, and she groans. You laugh a little at her reaction, but only because you know how frustrating it is. If you could take it from her, you would. When you settle, she stares at you guiltily and starts picking at the nail bed around her thumb like she can't stand the silence. "Where did you guys go?" you ask to put her out of her misery.

"I just… needed to get out of the house. We walked around town for a while before going to his parent's house," she says. "They still don't know. We wanted to tell y'all first." You nod, unable to give words to your gratitude just yet, and she swallows thickly.  

"You could've stayed," you whisper. "I wanted you to stay."

"I know," she says. "I'm sorry. For everything." She looks like she could start crying again, so you take a deep breath, scoot over to her, wrap her in your arms, and kiss her temple. You feel her relax into you, and a weight is lifted off your shoulders.

"You know your dad and I worry about you. It's not about you not being capable or not smart enough because you are plenty capable and smart. But we also know that it doesn't matter how prepared you think you are. There's nothing that can prepare you for being a parent, and that's not me trying to scare you. It's just how it is." You explain, and she nods into your neck. 

"That's what Ellie said, too." She says. 

"Smart kid." 

"I feel like I fucked up," she pivots dramatically, but you hold on tightly and wait for her to continue. I'm right here with you, baby girl, you think. "I want to be happy because Eric seems happy, and you're supposed to be happy when you find out you're pregnant, but I'm so fucking scared." She sounds like she's on the brink of tears again, and you shush her. She sighs heavily and wipes at her face as she leans back enough to see you. "Were you scared when you found out you were pregnant?"

"Both times, I was fucking terrified. With you, it came later, though. Even though your dad and I talked about having another kid and how amazing you'd end up being, I remember going into labor and shaking cause of how scared I was." You say, and she nods. 

"How did you... know you were supposed to be a mom? She asks. It's a loaded question. How does anyone ever know they're "supposed" to be a parent? You certainly didn't think you were meant for anything that important at sixteen, but you do remember why you made the decision you did. 

"I, um…" you trail off, laughing. "I started having these dreams after I found out I was pregnant."

"Dreams?" 

"It was pretty much the same thing over and over again for a few months. I would be going through my regular routine, but this… baby was following me around. I couldn't tell if it was a boy or a girl, but I knew it was my baby. And it came with me to school, the grocery store, work, everything, and as time passed in my dream, the bigger the baby got. They'd get more personality or start laughing, or their eyes would change colors, and I'd be so in love with them," You know you sound crazy, but that's because it was crazy. "The first few times, I woke up crying because the baby from my dreams wasn't there. I thought there was nothing worse than waking up in the morning and not having my kid there," you say. The weight of your words catches up with you, and you have to bite your bottom lip to keep from crying. "And I was right." You shake your head and take a deep breath, hyper-aware of her eyes on you.

"I had the same dreams when I got pregnant with you, except they were a little different. In all of them, you were always with Ellie and Dad— every single time. I thought you were gonna grow up and not like me as much or whatever other reason my hormones gave me for the change, but, towards the end, you started showing up alone. You were just this little light. I can't describe it exactly, but everything I did in the dream was a little more magical because you were there. Things were shiny or glittery, and you would just giggle and giggle and giggle," you say, smiling at the memory. You grab her hand and squeeze hard, looking directly into her eyes and fighting more tears. "You turned my world technicolor even before you were born, and I knew I would always do everything I could to protect you. That's why I was so hard on Eric. I know he's a good kid and nothing like Jane's dad was, but I don't want you to end up like me, kid." Charlie squeezes your hand, somehow harder than you squeeze her, and a familiar crease appears between her eyebrows.

"Mommy, if I'm half the woman you are, I'd be so fucking happy. Are you kidding me?" She says. 

"Charlotte-" 

"I'm serious," she cuts you off, Joel's commanding yet gentle tone seeping into her voice. "Mom, you made my lunch until I was in high school, and even when I asked you to stop, you still had one ready to go just in case I needed it. You used to take JJ and me to the park so Ellie and Aunt Dina could get some sleep, even though everyone knew that meant you didn't get any. You convinced Dad to talk to Eric because you knew I loved him and wanted him to like him..." She slows down a little bit, scanning your face before she continues. "You kept a kid alive during the Outbreak despite everything. You still buy her flowers on her birthday. You tell me about her. You let me know her," you take a shaky breath, and you can't stop the tears anymore. "You're a good mom, and I'm so lucky to have you, and I'm sorry for what I said and for getting pregnant and-" 

This time, you stop her by hugging her tight and letting yourself cry. She gets emotional, too, and a very unlucky Joel finds the two of you crying on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night. Like everything, he takes it in stride and joins you two on the floor until the sun breaches over the mountains and a new day shines down. 

It's hard to say things got easier after that day. Eric's parents didn't react very positively at first, and it took them most of her pregnancy to come around. Charlie goes through weeks of sickness and bed rest. They argue a lot about the future and what it should look like, but they get there in the end. The next year, the house is filled with a familiar chatter and chaos. Charlie and Eric's twins (which explains why she felt so bad), Elliot "Ellie" Beth, and April Theresa Miller-Donovan, squeal as Joel takes turns dancing with them in the living room.

Elliot is, obviously, named in honor of your Ellie, but she bears Sarah's middle name. April threw you for a loop. The twins were born in snowy January, confusing you as to why they would name her that and not January, but Charlie smiled as she handed April to you. "Jane's birthday is April 7th. I didn't want to steal your name, but I remember you taking me to the meadow to pick flowers for her. April 7th was always my favorite day." She explained, making you choke up. When she told you April's middle name, you and Joel completely lost it. Theresa, for your Tess, the woman who believed so much in Ellie, she forced you to believe in her, too. The woman who saved your life in more ways than one. The woman who would've absolutely adored Charlie if she ever met her. 

You love being grandparents again— admittedly, a little older than you were the first time around. Joel teaches the girls Spanish words and lets them pull on his beard. You make extra food so your baby has something to eat after the long days and nights of keeping them alive, and you play silly games with them. They don't look like you or Joel or even Charlie or Eric. They look like their own little people. People who will never know the loss, destruction, and nights spent staring hopelessly at walls you went through. People who will grow up safe and loved and cared for. People who carry names they won't be able to put a face to. 

That's okay. They don't need to know about the people you were before you were their grandparents, and maybe it's time for you to try to let that time go. Maybe, in your and Joel's old age, with the deep wrinkles and graying hair, you can just be. Maybe you can just dance in the living room and make warm blankets and fall asleep holding hands. Maybe everything does turn out okay.

[tobybestupid]

If they were parents, Rdr2

Characters: Arthur Morgan, Charles Smith, Dutch Van Der Linde, Javier Escuella, Molly O'Shea, Sadie Adler.

Note: this is more of them raising young kids, like toddler age.

Arthur Morgan

★ Arthur missed Issac alot, so becoming a father again to a little girl made him so happy

★ but it must've made him slightly scared after what happened to Issac, he doesn't want anything bad to happen to his little girl.

★ to say he's protective is an understatement, he doesn't matter how old his kid is he'll always be watching over them.

★ also probably picks up random items from his 'adventures', little wood carvings, new foods, just little stuff.

Charles Smith

• He was so excited to hear he was having a kid

• he's always getting his kid stuff, little items, blankets, stuffed animals, anything.

• doesn't spoil the kid and teaches them the value of money

• teaches the kid about hunting, tracking, etc.

Dutch Van Der Linde

‡ He was shocked..and scared to have a kid, I mean sure he basically raised Arthur..and John. But he didn't know if he was a good dad??

‡ He tries his best but usually freaks out over it and fucks it up, but he keeps trying

‡ he asks Hosea for help and Hosea does, keeping a toddler entertained?? I mean maybe Dutch could do that

‡ Dutch usually lets his kid play with his rings, hopefully it'd keep the kid entertained (oooo shiny shiny twinkle twinkle)

Javier Escuella

✓ Always teaching his kid Spanish, maybe some cusses here and there for fun

✓ gets his kid a little poncho just like his!!

✓ he's not the best at parenting but he tries, maybe asking people for some help like Abigail since she has Jack.

✓ Javier is scared fo temper tantrums, horrified, of them.

✓ didn't know how to handle the temper tantrum besides trying to hush the kid, or just giving them what they want.

✓ such a sucker for the puppy eyes, falls for them all the time.

Molly 0'Shea

★ always reading to her kid, and ofcourse teaching the kid how to read

★ I feel like she'd love this kid to death and spoil them to death

★ loves to take the kid out and about to get stuff, maybe shopping, or perhaps looking at stuff in the gun store.

(I'm sorry I have like no ideas for Molly)

Sadie Adler

• of course she'll teacher kid when their old enough to use a gun when their older

• she LOVES taking her kid on rides on her horse, would love to get the kid a horse when they're old enough.

• temper tantrums are scared of her, always knows how to calm her kid down quickly

• such a sweetheart to the kid though, always playing with the sweet little kid.

============================

Sorry I am like half asleep writing this and I'm too lazy to fix anything

[plumadot]

Hi hello Pluma 👋🏿

Hope you're doing well!

Got a little bit of a brainstorm for your dnd guys

Big squad is just traveling, or do they have some kind of goal? And – why are they all together?

Is there some particular world building you wanted to introduce, or mb it's just normal Faerun? I really like weird twists, like, then everything is flooded, orrrr maybe then there's no sun in this world! Or they have several moons... Just an idea to think about! :D

I also was thinking of spiderchair a lot-

Just imagine Scar running on the walls and ceilings cuz. Spider chair!!!

And I think Scar is often bored, then they are traveling on foot (he's too active fella to just sit and watch) – mb he has some kind of a hobby to keep his hands busy? Flute is cool and all, but the guy is VERY chatty, (what's why tbh I'm kinda sad he plays flute, no beautiful singing D:) and yea. I was thinking it might be wood carving, bit it's kinda doesn't fit him... Oh, I know! Mb magic tricks ?? I dunno, what do you think? :D

Oh and probably G is often complaining how tired he is from walking on foot... Is there on a chair somewhere a perch for him, or he's just unceremoniously sits on Scar's lap? :DD (Well they still can have horses but. Every horse would despise Grian u'all know that)

Yep... they are definitely The Wanted Criminals... Silly fellas QwQ

hi!!!!! :D <3 <3 <3

they do!! they eh. it's. again it's bits and pieces for now i hope you don't mind gkjdfkgjf. they kinda all have their own goals but they overlap more or less... they're all looking for a certain artefact, even ren's squad is :D i'll try to explain or draw stuff about it once i have all backstories linked up with it and can actually find the words to make it sound plausible LMAO

i'm not sure if i want the world to be very different from "standard" faerûn gfdkgjkfd i like the idea of multiple moons simply for the aesthetic :D and mmmm what's important is that gods are pretty close to mortals and even interfere every now and then. and i suppose the place they're in is coastal, since there's a lot of characters have some kind of connection to the ocean :D

scar is strapped into his spider chair so it should definitely be able to walk on walls!!!! idc if that's overpowered the chair is a magic item ok he gets to have a cool chair!!!!!!!

also yes yes he definitely plays music and doodles a lot!!! :D ohhhh you're right about the singing gfdkjgkjdf maybe i'll also give him a string instrument as a treat :D I'M NOT PICKING FAVOURITES I JUST. YOU KNOW

grian can definitely perch on the chair. and he will. he likes feeling tall :) he uses his flight to scout ahead but it's so very tiring... let him on the chair scar pls...

HFDJKGJDFG i'm so sorry if the things i say about this au make no sense or don't connect or kgfjdkjg i'm not good at this. but i really liked your questions and ideas!!!!!!!!!! ;-;

[teriwrites]

about me: a writeblr re-re-re-introduction

Hello! My old pinned post is officially over a year old and makes me cringe whenever I'm on my blog, so it's time to freshen things up again!

me

I'm Teri, I'm smack dab in the middle of my 20s and figuring out life. My writing is pretty exclusively original stuff, a lot of novels and a lot of fantasy, but I play around with various genres in short stories. Sort of a jack-of-all-trades in regards to hobbies - aside from writing, there's anything from baking to drawing with my ancient art tablet to cross-stitch to playing music to rambling around the patch of woods near my house to watching long-form D&D let's plays.

my goals

I recognize that every time I post something like this, it's with the intention of finally becoming as active on writeblr as I was during the pandemic. I also recognize I've never quite managed that.

So here are some more general goals to get me through 2024:

Finish my 2nd draft of Beyond Alder Creek

Write as cringey and brutally honest as I never allowed myself to as a teenager.

Speaking of, a large reading/writing goal of mine is to go back through every NaNo draft I've ever written (I've participated since 2011). So aside from just reading that and likely turning it into a whole spectacle on here for people's amusement, generally just survive reading through the writing from 8th grade. Stay tuned for more on that in the coming weeks lol

Finally, I have a general goal every year of reaching 100K words, between writing and editing and the like, but I'd happily be a little looser with that goal if it meant getting through others.

And now, without further ado:

my writing

Before I get specifically into WIPs, a general overview of the kind of writing you can expect from me:

As I said, I'm a fantasy nerd. I love worldbuilding, both on a large scale (nations and cultures and political relationships) and a small scale (a magic shop in an otherwise contemporary setting).

There's not a lot of romance in my writing, but there Are a lot of transformational relationships and codependency. Friendships, siblings, guardians, general ride-or-dies.

Thought experiments. I've been trying to catch and indulge more in my 'wait, what if?' ideas. Sometimes, that's fun little snippets of silly ideas, sometimes it's a majorly emotionally heavy scene for a story I'll never write. Sometimes, it's coming up with ideas to 'combine genres'. It's all about expanding the range.

wips*

Beyond Alder Creek /// draft 2 /// tag: bac

Winnie Pewitt has never believed in the fae. That is, until her little brother disappears, and she stumbles upon a faerie ring on the edge of town. Inside, a man seemingly carved from gold suggests that he knows who took the boy. With everyone else around their hometown accepting her brother's fate as certainty, Winnie takes it upon herself to craft the perfect deal and enter the realm of the fae with her new companion in tow.

The Lies in the Legend /// draft 1 /// tag: litl

The fictional autobiography of an elven noblewoman who rose rapidly in station and influence from an unremarkable youth to a diplomatic powerhouse. Spanning centuries during the prime of her life, Lady Ghislaine Agassi charts the course of her career and reputation, and highlights the dangers of making myths out of our idols.

*Though these are my primary WIPs, I have a page that covers various other WIPs and projects that I've brought up over the past few years.

I think that about covers everything! As always, I can't make any promises about how the year will wind up and where it takes us. But I will say, I've actually been writing recently, and yk I'm just gonna ride that high.

And for fun, here's some random facts about me:

fun facts

I have degrees in psychology and music!

I've lived across three continents, but currently live in upstate New York for whatever reason lol

The animals I've ridden on the back of include: horse, pony, elephant, and ostrich. The horse was my least favorite. By far.

I got diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes a couple months after Covid landed stateside (in May 2020) and am Always ready to talk someone's ear off about it.

The first story I ever wrote was on PowerPoint and was about war breaking out between humans and aliens that had taken refuge on Earth after their planet was destroyed. I was 8. There was a Lot of Clipart involved.

I've never been published, but I once secretly planned out, wrote, edited, and self-printed a couple copies of a novel about my best friends and our college apartment. They received it for Christmas last year and loved it (or at least were kind enough to tell me they did)!

[azures-grace]

Fuck it, WIP Sunday

Have some of the Tally intro (as of now) for my Iri fic because I wanna

Gore is snappy because he is injured and met the bozos less than 5 hours before this scene, so trust is low.

(1032 words. This is from chapter 4 (chapter 3 isn't done, I just wanna share this cause I love writing dialogue.))

That night, they camped a mile or two outside of Falkreath’s main city. Wood was plentiful and there hadn't been much rain in the recent days, so lighting a fire was easy.

Remiel sat on the ground, carefully polishing Scrap with a cloth. Caryalind was laying on his stomach– on the singular pillow he'd snatched from one of the inns they'd stayed in after leaving Markarth– his nose buried in a book. Gore had taken to cleaning and banging his leg properly. Iriae was pouring over the texts they had found in Nchuand-Zel. She had a journal open on her knee and was scribbling into it.

“Watcha doin?” asked Gore, looking over while he wrung hot water out of a rag.

“Just… translating some Dwemeris…” she murmured.

“Why?”

“For fun,” she said with a shrug. “There's no deadlines here like there were at the Embassy. I can just read whatever I want to.”

“The… what?” the Nord’s eyes flashed.

“Oh– dammit.” Iriae snapped the books shut and put her head in her hands.

Caryalind piped up, tilting his book down and pushing himself up on one elbow. “She used to work as the Thalmor’s translator for dead languages.”

“And he's the Thalmor prince,” Remiel informed Gore while she put down Scrap.

Gore blinked very slowly and then dug the palms of his hands into his eyes. “By Talos, this can't be happening…”

The Mer flinched a little. “Can't we keep religion out of anything?” Iriae whined. She tugged on her hair nervously and glanced around at the surrounding trees.

“It's not like the Thalmor are lurking in the forest,” Remiel pointed out.

“You don't know that!” the deserters squawked.

There came upon them the sound of hooves and horses. A person staggered out from the darkness, leading two white horses. He was pale, but still definitely Altmer. If nothing else, the robes of a Thalmor mage gave it away. Remiel dropped Scrap onto the ground and Gore grabbed his sword, but Iriae stopped them both.

“Wait!! Wait. Just… hold on.”

She scrambled to her feet and slowly approached the man. He was clutching his side with gritted teeth. His face was mostly hidden by shadows.

“Well. This is unfortunate,” he grumbled, looking at the Nord and Breton. “I don't suppose you're the rest of my contingent, are you?” He coughed and spat on the ground.

“Nnno…” Iriae mumbled. “Are you… okay.”

“Fine, yes,” he snapped. “I don't suppose you've seen any other members of the Thalmor such as myself, have you?”

“We killed 'em,” she heard Gore growl. The Altmer’s pale face scrunched up in disdain. And then in pain.

“What happened to you?” Iriae asked. She squinted at the area he was gripping.

“Well, myself and my compatriots were sent to root out Talos worship here in the Falkreath area. This horse belonged to my companion, Agent Sanyon. We came upon one such group of heretics and Agent Sanyon was giving his speech until one of them struck him from behind and killed him!”

“You're very nonchalant about this,” Iriae observed. “Doesn't explain why you're hurt.”

“It was self defence, I'm getting there, hang on,” he sighed. “Anyway, I picked up Sanyon’s speech where he left off, and then one of the bastards mocked my dagger!”

“Your… dagger?” Remiel squinted and glanced down. “Is this a real dagger, or some kind of metaphor?”

The Altmer flashed her a killing glare and unsheathed an ebony dagger that glowed slightly in the dim firelight. “No, this dagger. It's been in my family for generations!”

“Still doesn't explain the injury,” Iriae said, trying to get the conversation back on track.”

The dagger began carving an arc in the air. “Oh, I grabbed the one who mocked Berwhale and carved his heart out to show the lot of them!” The Altmer giggled while the other four looked on with varying degrees of horror. “See, self defence. Anyway, then I had to kill the rest.” He groaned and pulled his hand away, watching blood drip from his fingers. “Unfortunately, they put up quite a fight. But I'll live. Probably…”

“I've got a healing potion,” Iriae offered.

“What? Why?!” It seemed that the Altmer before her was just as confused as her companions.

“It just seems like the right thing to do,” she admitted. “Now how about you come out of the dark and tell us your name?”

He heaved a sigh and stepped out of the darkness. “I'm… Taliesin. It's an alias, for my safety and yours.”

She gave him a smile and then froze. In the firelight, she could recognize his face properly. “Oh my gods we worked together,” she stammered.

“I beg your pardon?” Taliesin looked at her confused.

Iriae pulled her hair back and draped the hood of her cloak over her head. Recognition filled he other Mer’s green eyes.

“You're the girl who was in the basement!” he cried, snapping his fingers. “I think you handed me some papers once…”

“Yeah, Elenwen didn’t want me going out very often,” she laughed awkwardly.

“You’re telling me you two know each other??” Gore complained. “Oh, great. Splendid. A whole troupe of Thalmor.”

“Well, I never learned his name,” she said. Iriae handed Taliesin a bottle which he downed immediately.

“Oh, gods bless you. That’s much better. I’m still… covered in blood, but at least it’s not actively spilling from me, hm?” He bowed low and chuckled. “I don’t have anything to repay you for this at the moment, I’m afraid. The best I can do is offer the pleasure of my company.”

Iriae gave him a very blank look for a solid minute. “Are you… trying to come on to me?”

He gave a raucous laugh and shook his head. “No, not at all. I barely know you aside from, what, three total glances before today? Oh, I'm sure we can fix that, if you wish, but no. I’m offering to travel with you. I realise you’ve already got several companions with you, but–”

“Sure!” Iriae was grinning like a fool. “The more the merrier!”

And that was how the five of them found themselves sitting around a fire, trying to rehydrate deer jerky.

[scarfacemarston]

same anon from the john asks- sorry I didn't specify!! Could I please get F,J, and L?? If u don't mind ^^ sorryyy!!

Prompt here: Hey, no worries at all! I'm happy to do it. : ) Fighting: Oh boy, we've seen this.  

However, John doesn't like to fight, but he feels like he has to; it's all he's ever known. He tries to be calm because he knows where his temper can lead him. In the past, he always wondered if there would be a round two. But once you're together? He's far more at ease. However, he'll want some time to cool off after an argument to chop wood, work with the horses, etc. However, he doesn't believe in going to bed angry. Not anymore. He's lost too many people in his life. 

Jealous: John absolutely has a jealous streak, whether it's family or friends. But you? Yes, for sure, because you're his chance to start over. He tries to act like it doesn't bother him. He might get a little angsty or make a remark here or there, but overall? I don't see anything extreme like getting into a fight with someone. He's surprisingly mature, but I think that's because he has been rejected in the past. As soon as you figure out how he's feeling, see if he wants some alone time. Otherwise, hug him around the waist, rub his back, and assure him just how much you love him. Bonus points if you say what you love about him. You can tell things are ok when you feel him melt against you. 

Love confession: John has never been the type for big gestures or the type to give a speech. I can see him trying to give hints about how he's feeling, thinking of several different plans before deciding just to be direct. Here's how I think it could go:

He waited until a clear night, at a time when most of the camp had settled. The fire glowed but still emitted warmth on the chilly night; clearly, a ploy to have you close to him. He called you over to sit next to him while he whittled. The fire illuminated your faces in a soft orange glow. He was quiet as the sound of his knife carving the wood became almost hypnotic. "Been trying to tell ya something, been tryin' a long time, but I ain't good at gestures. Ain't good with hints - giving or understanding." He chuckled sheepishly. "Ain't good with words, neither. You know that, so I guess I gotta keep it simple" He paused. " I've fallen for you. Hard. Didn't expect that to happen, 'specially after all the chaos 'round here. But you make me feel something; you make me feel seen. You don't gotta feel the same, but I just knew I had to try to tell you anyway." John continued, his voice trailing off. You couldn't help the sweet smile that appeared on your face, growing as you played his confession in your mind. "John Marston, you are something else. I knew there was something sweet about you under that rough exterior." you whispered in his ear. He scoffed, rolling his eyes. He bit his lip. "Fine, C'mere and let me show you how sweet I can be," His rough voice rumbled as a roughed hand cusped your chin gently to pull you into the lightest of kisses before deepening the kiss, his arm wrapping around your waist to draw you closer. Somehow, you've ended up on his lap, but you're not complaining. You broke away breathless, a smile larger than you've ever seen on John's scarred face.

"Sweet enough for you, darling, ?" He said with a mischievous smile.

[mischievouslittlecreature]

For Lucy

𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗮 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗮𝗱𝗮 〜 if your oc has a bag or a purse, what are five things that’d be inside?

𝘁𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗶𝗹𝗮 𝘀𝘂𝗻𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗲 〜 what kind of hobbies does your oc enjoy? is there anything they’ve always wanted to do but never had the time/resources to try?

Thank you for the ask, Juli! 🖤

Lucy is from my Love Me Where I'm Most Ruined series!

𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗮 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗮𝗱𝗮 〜 if your oc has a bag or a purse, what are five things that’d be inside?

She doesn't normally carry a bag, but when/if she does it would contain:

Her revolver

A tube of bright red lipstick

A few rolls of bills

A switchblade/pocket knife

A little red notebook and pen

𝘁𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗶𝗹𝗮 𝘀𝘂𝗻𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗲 〜 what kind of hobbies does your oc enjoy? is there anything they’ve always wanted to do but never had the time/resources to try?

Horseback riding is the big one, and just general caring for or spending time with her horses. She also loves playing cards and chess. She thinks she's a better card player than she actually is because Tommy often lets her win 🤭. And she enjoys learning languages, and has taught herself several including Russian, French, and Italian.

She also is very good at wood whittling/carving, and makes lots of little figurines that are displayed in Arrow House or that she gives away as gifts. She's even sold a few at various art festivals. Though she doesn't have a lot of time to practice it, she really enjoys artsy things like painting, drawing, and even pottery. She'll sometimes doodle little pictures in the margins of her notes during meetings.

Cocktail OC Asks

Send me an ask

[forthesanityofstorytellers]

15 Tags 15 Mutuals

Tagged by @bloodlessheirbyjacques

Ty! ❤️

I'll go ahead and do Becks. She's easily the one that's on my mind the most rn.

-----------

1. Are you named after anyone?

Pretty sure I was named after a plant. But my current name, no. It was chosen for me and then I chopped it up so it could be used either by me or my partner.

2. When was the last time you cried?

It depends. I cried when my girlfriend showed back up. Well. I teared up. Happy tears. She wasn't...there wasn't anything wrong. She's just been gone for a few weeks and I've...there's been a lot going on and I missed her.

If you mean cry cry...I had a vampiric-induced nightmare. Woke up and called my boyfriend and cried when he answered the phone because it was proof he hadn't packed up his things and left me.

3. Do you have kids?

Two. One that I birthed. That was...interesting. Neither one of them can seem to control their magic very well. It's easier with the older one, Lily, as she understands the context of her magic. My younger one is...uhm...Well let's put it this way. Lily just pulled free of a lock on her magic and has spent the last hundred or so years with barely any access and therefore barely any control. But she's learning. Misolis was born about...what, five or six months ago? Already looks somewhere between three and four. She just created four mud frogs and a mud snake and brought them to life, all using her magic, and is in the process of teaching the other little ones despite having barely any control of her own. She sort of listens to me and her da, is already finding and working loopholes to win arguments, and somehow believes that I lie and her da is incapable of the same...which would make you laugh if you knew us. She's got her own version of the world and can't be argued out of it once she's got an idea. She's...*sigh*...She's quite a little tornado of events.

But again...if you knew what family she came from, none of this would exactly be a surprise. Well. It would be but it wouldn't be.

4. Do you use sarcasm?

Me? No. I never do. Why on earth would I use sarcasm. It's not like it's hilarious in the right context and sometimes the only way to answer stupid questions. But no. Not me. I'm not sarcastic at all.

5. What's the first thing you notice about people?

Their magic. Or life signature. Body language tells me a lot. I guess the real answer about the first thing I notice about people is how many secrets they think they can keep from me.

6. What's your eye colour?

...Brown? Maybe black. I don't know. Is it important?

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

Seeing as how my life could be classified as a scary movie sometimes, I prefer happy endings.

8. Any special interests?

Mm. Define special. I used to be a PI and buried myself in the work so hard I barely had time for anything else. My interests back then were things like body language, minor facial expressions, and anything else that furthered my line of work. I did like to hunt.

But now that I'm...here...I've picked up the guitar again and have been thinking about going electric. Otherwise I'm...still trying to figure it out.

9. Where were you born?

In a forest. Where were you born?

10. What are your hobbies?

I suppose thinking of the consequences of my daughter's unleashed magic doesn't count.

I've been working a lot of magical theory lately and carving wood pieces. Thought about pursuing dancing or playing guitar again, like I said. But like I also said, I'm still...working on it.

11. Do you have any pets?

Does a magically-created mud-moss-vine equine-ish creature count?

If not, then no. Although I did have an actual horse back in the 1800s. He was a sweetheart.

...what's with the lo- Oh. The collar. That's uh...that's not for a pet. Next question.

12. What sports do you play / have played?

I used to run. A lot.

...

But I don't think that's what you meant.

13. How tall are you?

Tall as I want to be.

14. Favourite subject in school?

I...Uh...I didn't exactly have...'school'. Grew up in a forest around the mid...or maybe late...1500s and spend most of my time with my mother. Who was a sprite. Sprite children are born knowing what they need to know, so sprites don't exactly understand this idea of 'school'. My father taught me what I'd need to know if I was to pass as human, but most of the things I remember were magically-oriented.

...I suppose I enjoyed reading and writing. Not that it helped much after I left. He taught me what he knew, which didn't include English, Spanish, or any of the other places I wound up in. Although I did have music lessons once I got to Spain and those were good days.

15. Dream Job

I don't actually know. I've had a lot of things I've done over the years. Mostly to survive. A few of them were jobs. Never really stopped to dream. Never really risked it, if I'm honest. Well, no. When I was younger I didn't dream of jobs. I didn't know what a job was. By the time I was old enough to have learned the concept, I was beyond the point of dreaming for anything beyond the next sunrise. Then I believed dreams were a poison only the young and foolish were dumb enough to drink.

Now, though...

If I had a dream it would be being allowed to be a mother, girlfriend, and friend in peace and to see those I love happy and safe.

Pretty sure that's not a job. Feels like a job to help keep us safe, though.

------

No pressure tags!

@sleepyowlwrites/@knmartinshouldbewriting/@concealeddarkness13/@pens-swords-stuff/@pen-of-roses/@magic-is-something-we-create/@mjjune/@vacantgodling/@ryns-ramblings/and open tag for the rest!

[mermaidsirennikita]

ARC Review: Highland Beast by Heather McCollum

3.75/5. Releases 4/25/2023.

For when you're vibing with... hard on the outside, soft on the inside heroes, healer heroines, babies babies babies, and historical romance with a good dose of old school vibes.

Bas Sinclair, the youngest of the Sinclair brothers, was raised by his maddened father to be an embodiment of death--the literal Horseman of Death, in fact. As an adult, he abhors his role as the executioner of the land, but fulfills it anyway, living isolated and lonely. That is, until, he discovers a mysterious young woman named Shana in the woods, with a newborn baby that isn't hers...

I liked a lot about this one. I also had some issues. While I would say that I enjoyed it, and I'm totally gonna read the final book in the series, I wanted a little more for Bas.

Quick Takes:

--First off, I loved Bas. I'd been looking forward to his book through the first three installments of the series, and he didn't disappoint. He's huge and scary and trained to dispatch people easily... But he really just wants to plant bluebells and carve his little sculptures and tend to literally every animal that could come across his path. He's threatening and intimidating, but he's also a deeply awkward and shy precious angel who never did anything wrong, in his life ever. And I hated how he'd clearly been traumatized from literal birth... But I did also kind of deeply enjoy how that trauma manifested itself.

--The thing about this series is that you will not enjoy it if you don't enjoy... a bit of cheese. I say that affectionately; it's not a bad thing to me. It reads very old school. The heroes are hulking big men who almost pass out when their wives are in labor because they're too stressed. They throw around weird little jokes that sometimes make you go "a weird moment to make that comment, but okay". There's a big emphasis on FAMILY. The heroes recite apocalyptic Bible passages before killing people. Normal historical romance shit.... but maybe not so common today?

--I kind of love the unusual setting of late sixteenth century Scotland. It ain't medieval, it ain't Regency/Victorian. You get references to King James (who was, like, a supporting character in the third book). This book is more of a true insular Scottish romance, but the setting still feels very different in today's market.

--There is a lot of childbearing in this novel, and honestly, in the series in general. Shana is a midwife, and I do enjoy a midwife heroine. Two of the heroines of previous books are pregnant; one gives birth in this book, which gives you a lot of my series-favorite couple, Joshua and Kara (of Highland Warrior). There's discussion of birthing animals, and to be honest? The first book had a horse birth, the second book had a human birth, and the third involved a woman who'd just given birth (not the heroine). So maybe Heather just likes that, and that's okay. Normally I feel like that would annoy me, but for some reason the general vibe of this series make me... okay with it?

--What bothered me more was how Shana reacted to Bas. Her being scared of him in the beginning? Totally real and normal. Then they have this lovely romance, they have sex, there's a lot of emotional intimacy, and a Thing happens. And it's like... kind of obvious. Why it happens. And Shana is suddenly acting like this man she's fallen in love with could be a monster again? It just felt cheap and out of character, considering how common-sensical she'd been in the entire novel. To me, it read as a last minute attempt to inject drama. And I'm all about drama; but the drama has to make sense. A lot of the drama in this book did. That bit didn't.

The Sex Stuff:

There are a couple of sex scenes in this book, and they're good. Nothing crazy. I actually think that we could've gone further, as Bas, while not a virgin, is very inexperienced. I would've liked to see him try some other stuff. Also, to be fair to all the birthing scenes and pregnancies in this series--the Sinclair brothers NEVER pull out ever.

Mixed feelings, but I did enjoy it, and I really love Bas as a hero. Just keep all of this in mind if you decide to read.

Thanks to Netgalley and Entangled for providing me with a copy of this book. All thoughts and opinions are my own.

[casspurrjoybell-28]

Alpha's Temptation - Chapter 29 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

Daemon leads me to the second floor, hand on my back, leading to a door at the end of the hall.

"It's uh, not much," he says, sounding kind of nervous as he jiggles the key in the door.

"Can't wait."

I cling to his arm, smiling sweetly up at him.

Daemon blinks appreciatively at me before opening up the door.I

t's definitely not what I expected.

The walls are a dark gray, with deep mahogany furniture dispersed throughout.

It's not a large space, obviously made for one person.

There's a kitchen attached to the main living area, where there's a sofa and a little table.

Then he leads us to his bedroom, his bed in the center of it with a TV mounted on the wall.

It's also kind of messy, which I don't point out because Daemon said he tried to clean it up for me.

I appreciate his effort, feeling special that he did for my sake.

"Well, this is it. I... uh... gotta use the restroom. Feel free to look around," he tells me, still sounding kind of flustered and it's really cute to me.

"Will do."

Then he leaves me to it, so I stroll around.

I find an ornately carved chest, no doubt made by him.

Curious, I cautiously open it to find what looks like several unfinished jewelry projects.

There's gold and metal chains, similar to the necklace he gave me.

Which I have kept my promise and worn every day.

Next to it, there's a desk with wood shavings all over it.

Some type of metal tools lay on it.

Next, I look at his display.

He has tons of carvings, from horses to ballerinas.

They're all beautifully made, progressively smoother as I get to the end of the collection.

It's obvious he's improved so much over the years.

The funny thing is, I never imagined him as someone with a hobby like this.

Whittling, I think it's called.

A big, rough guy like him carving and shaping something so delicate and small.

I like that about him, though. he's more than meets the eye.

Not a stereotypical beer and sports jock.

I pick up one of the less fragile-looking figurines, a funny-looking gnome.

It's quite round with a cute pointy hat.

I giggle at its silly expression, turning it around in my hands.

The gnome slips from my fingers a, falling to the floor and rolling under the desk.

"Shoot," I say under my breath.

I get on my hands and knees, trying to get it out before Daemon comes back.

Of course, the door opens just as I reach under the desk.

I hear a whistle from behind me.

"Damn, shortcake."

"Daemon," I flush in my compromising position, realizing my ass is up and must be on full display for him in these shorts which are kinda form fitting.

"Don't look."

"Sure you're not doing it so I do look?"

"Ugh, I'm just trying to get something, pervert."

I reach a bit more, finally grasping the wooden figurine.

It's still intact, thankfully.

No damage sustained.

I pull it out, getting to my feet.

"Little guy took a tumble?" Daemon comes up behind me, looking over my shoulder.

"He's okay,"  I dust him off gently, patting his little hat before I set him back down in his proper place.

"These are all so beautifully made, Daemon. You must have such steady hands."

Daemon ruffles my hair fondly before going over to the dresser and pulling out a shirt.

"Thanks," he says.

"Means a lot coming from you."

I'm about to speak again when suddenly he pulls off his shirt. My eyes go wide as they travel down his firm chest, down his abs and all the way to his happy trail, which is framed by his defined V-line.

I don't know if it's his alpha genes or what but his physical composition is absolutely mouthwatering.

I mean, I saw a bit of it yesterday, in the dim light of dusk.

But in full lighting from the lamp, I can see just how muscular he is.

Dark tattoos spread across his arms to his neck and chest and his back too.

There are flowers, birds, intricate patterns, scenery, all etched in dark ink on just the right amount of skin, not too much to mar his golden complexion.

It's no surprise when he catches me staring, a teasing look in his eyes.

"Can't help yourself, can you?"

"Hey, you're not so innocent either."

I cross my arms at him.

To my disappointment, he pulls on another shirt, covering up the source of my future wet-dreams, probably.

Then he sits on the bed, patting his thigh, the look in his eyes never leaving.

"Come here."

I pout, trying to seem less eager than I am as I walk over to stand in front of him.

As if I could ever refuse him.

He reaches out for me, pulling me into his arms so I'm sitting on his lap, my legs straddling his thighs with my knees bent.

He has a small smirk on his face as his eyes run over my face.

I flush.

Even after making out with him, I feel so flustered when he looks at me like this.

"Stop," I say shyly.

He raises an eyebrow in question, so I resort to putting a hand over his eyes, pushing him back on the bed.

"Stop it," I giggle as I fall on top of him.

"Stop what? What am I doing?"

"Looking."

"You don't like when I look at you?" he asks playfully, peeking out from behind my hand.

"I don't know..." I pout.

How do I tell him that when he looks at me that it's the most nerve-wracking thing.

On one hand, my heart feels like it'll beat out of my chest.

On the other hand, I'm worried he's going to start seeing all the ugly parts of me.

I know it's dumb after all the compliments he's given me but self-consciousness is like second nature to me.

"S-sorry," I immediately pull away, absolutely mortified as I push in on my stomach to try and stop it.

That results in a sharp pain going through my gut and I let out a small grunt of pain.

"You alright?" he asks, brow creased in concern.

"Sorry," I say sheepishly.

"It's kind of hard to eat at school. It always feels like people are watching."

"So you don't eat?" Daemon frowns.I shake my head, knowing better than to lie to him.

"My psychiatrist s-says it's 'cause of anxiety."

"Still, shortcake," he strokes up my arms with his large hands.

"You've gotta eat. Lemme make something for us," he says, setting me down on the bed as he stands up.

"You don't have to."

I immediately go after him, feeling bad.

"I want to," he insists, not taking any refusals as he walks to the kitchen.

I watch mesmerized as he pulls out all the ingredients he'll need.

Herbs, spices, garlic, bay leaves, assorted veggies.

It smells heavenly as he fries it all up in a pan.

He serves us both a plate, my serving much too large for me and his own three times it.

"This looks so good," my mouth waters as I stare hungrily at the steak and fried veggies.

"Eat up. Maybe you'll grow a bit more."

"Daemon."

I kick him under the table and he laughs.

"You'll have to do that a lot harder if you want me to feel it."

"I did it soft on purpose. Pur-pose."

After we finish dinner we're back on his bed.

I only managed to finish a third of my serving, which he assures me is okay.

Meanwhile, he finished his entire plate and even had seconds.

His stomach must be a bottomless pit or something.

Typical Alpha.

We're sitting on his bed watching TV, me on his lap and my head resting against his chest.

I told him it was fine, that I could just sit on the bed.

But he pulled me onto him like it's something he was set on doing from the start.

He doesn't admit it but I think he really likes holding me.

I don't mind it either.

Warmth surrounds me as I lay on him, feeling the rising and falling of his breathing on my back.

He says I can put on anything I want so I put on Gossip Girl, one of my new favorites.

Let's just say Lylah put me onto some things.

I watch intently, absorbed in the plot and feeling a little sleepy.

But then I get an itch on my inner thigh.

It's uncomfortable and I really want to itch it but isn't awkward to scratch near your crotch in someone's company?

I try to shift my legs a bit, hoping the fabric of my shorts will rub on it.

But to no avail.

I let out a soft sigh of frustration, squirming a bit more, trying to get comfortable when I feel Daemons breath on my neck.

"Stop doing that," he growls as his hands come to rest on my hips.

He tries to shift me off him but it's far too late.

I already feel the hard, budding press of his erection against my ass.

My eyes widen, the realization that I've made him hard sending excitement coursing through me.

And a part of me wants to explore that excitement.

I move again, grinding myself against him purposely this time and he sucks in a breath.

"Ash," he breathes, his voice full of warning.

[thehistoriangirl]

I wanted to request a Jayce fic but I couldn’t think of one haha but hmmm maybe one where the reader was just a usual citizen and loves jayce and he loves them but then Jayce and Mel have a bit of a thing cause Jayce thinks that the reader doesn’t love him back and the reader is heartbroken and jealous like ofcourse he loves mel she’s the perfect looking woman and is so smart etc and then happy ending pls xx thank you!

Okay this one took a while because ✨ANON, YOU CREATED A MONSTER ✨ I'm going to divide this idea in a two parts fic bc I have no idea what to do to fix my mess sorry about it 😬

This Ache, Mistimed [1/2]

Jayce x gn!Reader-------4.7K-------SFW

Tags: Childhood Friends to Lovers| Pining| Hurt almost no Comfort (in this one)| Crushes| Unrequited Love (supposedly)|Use of y/n| Self-Hatred| Angst| 🎶it's 2AM and I'm uploading this 🎶 so it surely has typos I will fix when I come back from my trip| I watch a lot of Telenovelas & it shows|

You spent most of your lifetime inside your parents’ atelier located at the Talis factory of hammers.  Since you were little, your mother taught you to engrave the hammers with the characteristic T of the Talis family crest, your father modeling the handles in wood and iron, while you used sandpaper to polish the imperfections.

It wasn’t so strange that you encountered Jayce Talis for the first time when you were eight years old. The only child of the Talis house liked to wander around the forges while taking notes about the fabrication of new objects that nothing had in common with his family hammers except the manufacture.

His eyes illuminated like beacons when he saw a kid around his age. He was playing with a horse toy made of metal by a cold forge near where your parents' atelier was localized. Red light filtered through the windows, welcoming the dusk and the chilly air that began to move your hair.

“Hello,” you muttered, half-hidden behind a worktable. “I thought nobody was here…” You usually came here to draw, an ashy-stained notebook tucked against your chest. “I will leave now. I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

“Hey, not go!” Jayce was aligning up rocks inside a coffer, multicolor hues reflecting against the gray ceiling when the light hit them. “What’s your name? I haven’t seen you here before.”

"I'm y/n, my parents work here." You were fidgeting with the pages. He extended his hands for you to shake them.

“Hi y/n, I’m Jayce. Do you want to play?”

You blinked. “Play what?”

“Whatever you want! I haven’t played in a long time, so whatever it’s fine while we’re having fun, right?” You knew how that feel, the fabric being too crowded but lonely at the same time.

Nodding you two began to play the catch game, your steps echoing around the walls alongside your laughs, that could be heard from that time onwards, the shadows only growing bigger as the time ran forward.

You also wanted to convince yourself that it was only natural to develop a silly crush on Jayce as time went by. Blaming your hormones, or simply trying to mask it like a misunderstanding: he was only your friend, a very dear friend.

As spontaneously as it come, it would disappear. It must, it was only logical.

“Fancy seeing you here, y/n.” Jayce peeked his head over the door frame. He was smiling, holding a paper bag with something that smelled like cooked meat. “Do you mind if I invite you to lunch?”

Your hands were covered in bronze powder, a burin played between your dexterous fingers as you finished another hammer handle. “Yes, wait a minute. I almost finish.” Since your parents decided to retire you had been in charge of the atelier, inheriting the duty of engraving.

“Some day you have to teach me how you carve so fast." Jayce took one of the stools laying around the room and sat next to you. The day of the noon reflected the metal laying carelessly on the table, a window showing the landscape of the city.

Chuckling, you pressed the last details into the wood and metal. This one was the second last step of the manufacturing process, the original signature of a Talis hammer. “I have to fulfill my quota of hammers per day, you know.”

“According to inventories, you’re ahead of the game.” You scoffed, you only had been made twelve out of thirty, and it was way past half your working hours.

“Inventories made by who, may I ask?”

Jayce raised his shoulders. “I don’t know. But people say he’s good with math, so he’s probably right about the quota, though.”

“Oh, that’s right!" You ended the work while Jayce took the handle out of your hands, fingertips touching mistakenly. You moved your hand out the way, Jayce's thumbs rubbing over the engraving of his family crest with a loving gaze. "What happened with your Academy application?”

A sly smile appeared on his face. “That’s why we are celebrating.”

You giggled while washing your hands in the sink localized in a corner of the room. “Is that smell of your mother's special roast chicken?"

“Who knows? Let’s go outside.”

You two encountered shelter on a bench outside the factory where a little garden was arranged to present a more aesthetic façade to the building. The workers usually came here to relax and cold down after the suffocating heat of the forges. Jayce and you used it since years ago to play board games, draw, and coloring books. Even now, in the wood, it could be seen some traces of crayons tinting the surface, scratches from metallic figurines both Jayce and you gifted each other every birthday.

It was Ximena Talis's special recipe for roast chicken. The sandwich was still warm when you bite it, remembering all the occasions Jayce’s mom cooked food for you two, or vice-versa. You moaned with your mouth full after starving all morning.

"It's a celebration meal," you leaned against him, nudging him with your shoulder. “You have to tell me everything.”

Jayce shrugged, pretending to look innocent, even if his eyes were blinking with barely contained amusement. “I don’t what are you talking about— hey!” he stopped when you bite off some of his sandwiches. “That’s mine!”

“I don’t what are you talking about, I didn’t do anything.” You tried to imitate his voice.

“Oh, you’re earning it now.”

You blinked, looking at him with your best puppy eyes while leaning against him, trying to sneak another bite of his food. “Earning what?”

He removed the sandwich, instead putting himself in front of you, almost bumping his chest with yours. You couldn’t avoid the sudden gasp that escaped from your lips, feeling Jayce's breathing moving your hair. Instinctually you tried to cast a joke, your words dying out of your mouth when you raised your eyes to his.

Your heart leaped when you noticed his eyes were directed towards your lips.  You tried to repeat the same plea every night, that the feelings were mistaken, he was only your friend, it there was no way Jayce could think of you any different.

“Jayce?” you muttered when you thought you were about to pass out.

He blinked, patting your head. Just like that, the trance was broken. “Sorry, you had a bug in your head. I was watching it. ”

“Oh.” Of course. You were too embarrassed to keep your body too close to him now, thinking he would be able to hear your rampant heartbeat. If your hot cheeks weren't enough clue.

“The Kirammans accepted to be my patrons,” Jayce murmured while eating out the rest of his food. You directed your widened gaze from your shoes to him. “I’m going to enroll in the Academy next week.”

A euphoric laugh flowed from your lips to the air around you both. Hugging him to the side, you feel tears burning in your eyes.

“I’m so happy for you! I knew it! I knew you could do it! I’m so proud of being your friend.” You snuggled your cheeks against his shoulder, looking up at him with brilliant eyes. “I’m so proud of you, Jayce.”

He smiled softly, caressing your hair. “Thanks for believing in me. I would never forget it.”

You pulled away slowly. “Would you come to visit?”

Jayce interlaced his fingers and put them in his lap. “I will try, but it won’t be so often.”

“I know," you answered, even if the blunt truth stung your heart a little. "I'm still happy for you. Please not forget me when you become famous.”

He blurted in a contagious laugh. "I wouldn't dream of it, y/n." Jayce stood up and hugged you when it was time to say goodbye. You buried your face against his shirt trying to freeze this moment in time, to remember his essence and the warm feeling that his sole presence poured over your body. “Not for anything in the world.”

*~*~*~*

Jayce kept his word. But it didn’t change much.

While he visited during the holidays, he spent most of his time with his mother or in the Kirammans’ mansion, assisting at fancy parties. Jayce tried to invite you a couple of times before, but since the cold, hostile stares of that Mechanical Talent Competition at the Academy that kept you ostracized in a dark corner while Jayce was dragged away from your time and time again, you stopped accepting, much for Jayce’s sake.

With each semester conquered at the Academy, a bigger crevice expanded between your worlds. While he spent his days working away in the state-of-art laboratories in Piltover, maybe even the whole world, you were still in the same workshop engraving hammer handles all day, frozen in time as he was moving further and further away from your grasp.

Sure, he still sent you a letter for your birthday, and you still hung out with him on the scarce occasions he had time. But those moments seemed more like a memory. And when he told you about his Hextech theory, you knew he was a step away from glory. When Jayce cracked down on his theory to make it a reality, he would become the greatest inventor Piltover would have ever seen.

And you would be still the same worker at his family factory.

Who knows? Maybe one day he would still remember you like a distant memory and nothing more.

*~*~*~*

You couldn't attend Jayce's trial, but you did attend his celebration party when his theory thrived as a fact. Ximena Talis saw you standing far from the spotlight dominated by him and the Councilor that declared herself as his new sponsor, but Jayce didn’t.

He looked so different without his Academy uniform; the gala suit perfectly tailored made him resemble a prince. And your heart ached when you left the party early after a busy day at the factory.

The next day, Jayce went to your atelier with a slice of cake.

“What’s this?” you murmured with brows furrowed.

"From yesterday's celebration. You couldn't make it, right? You like fancy sweets, so I brought you cake. The chocolate is imported.” He was smiling while checking the new design of the Talis hammers, slightly modified with his insight. “Do you change the family crest?”

“A little, now I use gold and red to form the T." Your hand was painted with red metal. “Do you want to go outside?”

Jayce grimaced. "I'm sorry, y/n. I must come back to the Academy. We are creating a prototype of Hextech that would allow good to travel as fast as light.”

You smiled a little, even if your eyes were adverting his gaze. You didn't want to see your disappointment. The last thing you wanted was to drag him down with your selfish desires.

“Of course, not worry about it. Goodbye. Thanks for the cake.”

“I will come back one of these days, yes? There’s this new cafeteria near the Arts District that prepares incredible beverages. We should go some time."

You nodded; voice neutral. “Yes, sound good.”

Jayce hugged you before he left, but it was so quick you didn’t have a chance to reciprocate. He was already gone when you gathered the courage to hug him back.

Days later you two went to the cafeteria. It was a lazy afternoon, the sun wasn't that warm to make it suffocating staying at the tables outside the place. Your iced coffee wetting the glass and your fingers every time you drink it. A gentle breeze moved your hair while you leaned with your elbows towards Jayce's place, looking at his gesturing hands.

Jayce was talking about his new invention—the Hexgates, showing you with a wrinkled napkin and a pencil that he always carried around how they would look once finished.

A shadow covered the sun pouring over the table. Both of you looked up, a woman dressed in a completely white suit with a black collar and gold details outlining the clothes was smiling.

Jayce blinked. “Elora, what are you doing here?”

She nodded slightly. “Good afternoon. I’m sorry to interrupt, but Councilor Medarda wishes to see you. Regarding an urgent matter with the last prototype of the Hexgates. Your partner told us you were here.”

You looked away when you felt Jayce’s legs bouncing under the table.

“It’s fine, Jayce. You should go.”

His eyes were wide, a sad gesture governed his features while he extended his hand to take yours, stopping a few centimeters away. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. I’m not going to drag you down with me. “We will have another chance later.”

He stood up, nodding towards both you and Elora. “Right. I will make it up to you, I promise!”

You observed his figure striding up the Academy, Elora telling him something and him gesturing vividly as an answer until they were too far away to distinguish. Up the Academy where he belonged, while the factory and your home were down the twisted streets of the Industrial District near the bridge and the Undercity.

Two worlds.

Finishing your iced coffee, which now tasted more bitter than before, you realized that the only way to stop hurting was to trace a line. You were stupid and thought your feelings were a fleeting mistake, now, years later, you were tired of facing the same heartless consequences of feeding your hope only to be snatched away from you.

Maybe if you cut off all contact, you could pretend the feelings—Jayce himself, wasn't a part of your life anymore. A risky bet, but you were desperate enough to try.

The first time was the hardest. Turning down Jayce caused your chest to hurt for days, an echo of longing at seeing him leave with his shoulders dropped and low head. But with time, you get used to, lies flowing up your lips with excuses for every chance he got to spend time with you.

You grew colder as he comprehended the situation. Even if his ideas were inaccurate, was enough for him to stop trying. Jayce stopped asking, and you stopped caring as much as you could, trying stupidly to hate him even when deep down you were aware everything was your fault.

Everything began because of you. But you weren’t brave enough to even imagine finishing it.

Years passed by, and you both became a memory in each other’s treasured past.

Time ran off, you grew tired of your dull job at the Talis factory, and Jayce became a Councilor. Of course, he did.

You were at the Talis’ family house, Ximena Talis sitting in front of you. The tea she served you was already cold when you drink a sip. Her brows were furrowed, a deep grimace on her face.

“Are you sure of your decision, dear?”

“Yes. I’m immensely grateful for letting me keep my family atelier inside your factory, Mrs. Talis. But I'm tired of doing the same thing for over fifteen years." You looked away from the photographs hung on the wall, one of them of you and Jayce hugged while at one of his birthday parties. “I want to start anew, I guess.”

Her brown eyes read the depths of your soul, but she didn’t mention the obvious rift between you and his son.

“Very well, dear. If you wish so, then I will write your termination agreement and give it to you in no more than a week." Nodding you went to extend your hand for her to shake, but instead, she stood up and went face to face to hug you. “I’m going to miss you. You are like a daughter to me.”

You grasped her shoulders, burying your face against her neck as you did with your mother. Sobs made your body tremble like a leaf against a cruel wind. She patted your back, trying to soothe you.

I’m sorry, this is all my fault. But the words stuck on your throat, a knot growing bigger and bigger even when your tears were falling freely.

You left the Talis’ house with puffy eyes and a red face. Looking back, you nodded slightly as if saying goodbye.

*~*~*~*

Days later, you had your termination contract and were piling up the tools your parents used to build the reputation of this atelier. Wooden boxes were piling up against the table, and the only thing left was your childhood toys. Many of them were made by Jayce.

It hurt to touch them, remembering all the glorious times left behind.

There was a knock on the door. Your hand froze, shoving hurriedly the mechanical toys inside the last box.

“My mom told me you were leaving.” You tighten your jaw at hearing his soft tone. You missed it, you missed him.

“I’m going to miss you,” you muttered with a breathy voice, not able to meet his gaze. "What brings you here?" He was supposed to be at the Council or the Academy.

You could see his wide frame moving from side to side, unsure to cross the threshold. “I’m… I wanted to invite you to my birthday party.” His hands were firmly tugged against his stomach, shoulders dropped. He looked like a copy of his younger self. “It’s going to be in Council Medarda’s residence. And I can invite whoever I want, so I thought of you. I…” his voice trailed off, slightly cracked. “I… it would make me very happy if you could come.”

A ‘no’ was forming inside your mouth, but you swallowed it. Looking directly at him now that his gaze was directed towards the ground made you want to cry. It was probably best to use this opportunity as a closure for both of you.

“I will be there.”

His head jerked up, a wide smile breaking over his grimace. “Really? I mean— thank you. I’ll be waiting for you.”

You almost chuckled, nodding him softly before giving him your back to finish up the packing of your things.

The party went just like you imagine it. You were glued to Ximena’s side or lounging on a lonely corner not-to-close to Jayce’s partner, Viktor, that looked as socially drained and bored as you.

Even Ximena was deep in conversation with other families. But you? No one approached you outside Viktor and Ximena. Jayce was long gone, people surrounding him at a prudent distance all the time he went to talk to you.

The gift’s box felt too heavy when you put it in his hands, the last time your fingertips brushed against the others. You wanted to respect the tradition of your past gifts, a colored-metal carving of a photograph of you two, the last photo you took when you went visiting him in a Progress Day festivity. In the back of the photo, you carved a useless, hypocrite apology.

You hoped he would never open it.

It was late already, but the guests were still fueling around thanks to expensive wine and other liquors you didn't dare to grab from the platters the waiters traveled down the hall.

Viktor had left without your knowledge. Now you were the only person leaning against the wall. Sighing, you went to look for Ximena.

The aristocracy looked at you with a soft scowl, eager to show your place now that Jayce wasn’t here to look at them.

“Mrs. Talis, I’m leaving.”

She nodded. “Yes, dear. It’s already very late. Thanks for coming.”

Guilt struck your chest. “Do you know where Jayce is? I don’t want to go without telling him.” You wouldn’t see him again, probably. You at least wanted to say goodbye properly.

“I think he’s by the further balconies,” one of the merchants said, swinging his flute of liquor with each word to show the direction.

“Thank you. Goodbye Mrs. Talis, have a good night.”

The further section was silent, each step the sound of the conversation muffled away. You felt like an invader, roaming in an unknown home like that, peeking at the corners and hoping no one would cross your way.

The hallway opened into an enormous balcony that looked like a living room in plein air, with couches, plants, imported rugs, and even a half-painted canvas. You were so enthralled in the golden accents and the exquisite, minimal, and regal decorations that you didn't catch the two figures entangled on the balcony’s edge.

Your eyes widened when among the semi-penumbra you viewed Jayce entangled in a kiss with another woman. No, no just a woman. It was Councilor Medarda's spotless white dress, the golden accents of the metal decorating her back and legs shining a sole lamp swinging with the air.

You wanted to stop but were too astounded that your brain didn’t follow the command. Your feet knocked out a plant pot, the sound of ceramic breaking making them pull away with a deep, annoying glare towards you.

Until Jayce distinguished your figure outlines with the abundant light inside. He called out your name, his hands still enveloping Councilor Medarda’s body. But you were far from the hall, running as fast as you could to get out of there.

Tears prickled your vision as you stumbled with different assistants who screamed at you to pay attention. But you didn’t care. This was a mistake. You shouldn't have come, you should have never pushed him away, you should just left quickly, it was the best, you…

You took the empty elevator, ignoring the distant footsteps that were tailing you. Your reflection inside the metal cage was pitiful; messy hair, red eyes, and winced lips. Your hands were fists, trying the pain of your nails digging the skin would distract you from the raising void consuming your heart and leaving you both hot and cold.

The streets were being patrolled by Enforcers around the building. You wanted to get out of there as fast as you could, but you knew that running away from the place would only make them keep questioning you for 'suspicious behavior', so you descended the stairs as calmly as you could.

At least, until you heard him calling your name from the entrance hall.

You sprinted off the entrance, flying over the carved stairs.

“Y/n, wait!” He sounded out of breath, as he would have taken the stairs while you were using the elevator. “Please.”

His wounded voice made you look back at him. Your feet slip down one step, the gravity pulling you down the remaining stairs.

It hurt the friction of the rock scratching your knees and hands, but it hurt way more when Jayce tried to hold you to put you on your feet.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” you screamed, crawling away from him. Angrier with yourself every second that passed. You suppressed a cry when you support your right foot on the ground, wobbling, you struggled to keep yourself steady.

Jayce was frozen. You had never screamed at him, much less with such force.

“You probably twisted your ankle. Please, let me help you.”

“I don’t need your help, thank you." You grumbled as you were limping away. The Enforcers were looking from a distance, which made the situation even worse. Here you were, a nobody snapping at a Councilor.

How pathetic.

“Then tell me what’s wrong!” his voice was beginning to raise, too. “Tell me why you began to hate me.”

Your bottom lip was trembling, and at any minute you were about to burst into tears. He approached you, and because you were trying so hard not to look at him, you didn’t notice until you felt his hand lying softly on your shoulder. He was trying to console you like when you were younger, but it was just making it worse.

The sudden warmness of his skin distracted you for a moment, a flash of images of all the moments you enjoyed his casual touches as if it were a big deal for both of you, and not only part of your daydreaming.

“Nothing! You haven’t done any…thing!” your voice cracked, and you hit your feet against the ground, the sharp pain of your ankle sending some reason to your senses. Jayce jumped away at your sudden movement. "You haven't done anything," you mumbled, tears falling free on your cheeks. "We didn’t do anything.”

“Is that why you left like that?” From the factory? From my life? Jayce didn’t have to say it out loud for you to read it in his eyes.

You tried to wipe off the tears staining your vision. He was extending a hand towards you, too scared to decide to touch you. The crack was never more visible. And it was all your fault.

“I leave because it’s the best I can do.” You took your purse against your chest as if it were a plushie. “For you not to look after me anymore.”

You looked at him, you were saying this looking him right in the eye.

“What are you…?”

“We can’t be friends, Jayce. I don’t want to be your friend anymore.” You were trying so hard not to crumble in front of him. You wished he could be mean and cold, to get angry and yell at you.

It would make it easier to hate him.

"Please not say that. If… If I ever did something wrong, please tell me what it is, and we could amend it. I will amend it.”

You don’t love me. But that’s not a mistake.

A sarcastic chuckle bubbled out your throat. Not even him broking your heart was enough for you to hate him.

"I thought being your friend would be enough but… it isn't. I can't stand it anymore." You paused, feeling each of the words formed in your tongue burn and make a hole inside your chest once they got out. "I know you're dating Councilor Medarda, and I wish you happiness. But I can’t pretend I’m happy with just being your friend now.”

The words seemed ashy, all you could hear was the raging of your heartbeat in your ear.

"I will get over you. Eventually," you mumbled. "But for that, I have to get away from you. To pretend you don’t exist anymore. Or that you ever existed. That’s why I left. That’s why I’m leaving now. And I wish you to not follow me.”

Even if your eyes were teary, you could see how Jayce clenched his jaw.

"I wish I could just erase how I feel about you, so we can be friends like always. But I can't. No matter how much I keep telling my heart I don't want you, it just… doesn't change anything." Tugging at the loose threads in your heart, you tried to apologize, at least. “I’m sorry to ruin our friendship this way. I know you don’t feel the same way. But I just… needed to tell you so I can move forward. I’m sorry I messed up. But I hope you never forgive me. Please hate me, Jayce. It would make things easier, for both of us."

With tears trapped behind his hazel eyes, Jayce pressed one of his fists against his mouth. Both were frozen, in the eerie silence it could be heard the buzzing electricity of the streetlamps above your heads and your agitated breathing.

“Y/n…”

“Please just let me go!” you cried. “Be happy and forget about me. Our time is over.”

Please hate me, please make me hate you.

Jayce raised his top lip, nose wrinkled. For a second, he covered his mouth as if he were about to yell something back.

His eyes were flicking with tears trapped. But he just sighed, turning on his heels and disappearing out inside the building.

You limped away from the building as far as you could until you found a dark corner in an alleyway you could refuge inside. Your wounded leg hugged against your chest as you made yourself a ball and rocked back and forth, hiding your head between your limbs to try to hide your misery. Sobs emerged from the depths of your being, and tears were falling, hot and messy on your contorted face.

Everything hurt. And you wished, while an Enforcer tapped your shoulder asking if you wanted help, that everything would keep hurting for a while.

Maybe, that way, the love poisoning your being would finally abandon you.

[mylevisdontfitanymore]

I absolute ADORE your version of chubby pre serum Steve!! I was wondering if you ever thought about writing some romanogers featuring feeder Natasha and tiny chubby Steve? Or even Steve x Natasha x Bucky??

I haven't thought recently about it before buuuut something about this ask sparked an AU in my brain. And hear me out:

Natasha with tiny, tiny chubby Steve. Yes. But-

More specifically, Royal Natasha with a Tiny (but chubby) Fairy Steve.

Warning for unbeta'd Steve × Natasha belly kink with weight gain, stuffing, microphilia, and some magical shit lol:

And suddenly this AU is in my head...

Princess Natasha who has nothing to do and has to entertain herself because there's nothing really do to with the King and Queen still around even though Natasha is a grown woman, in her 20s, you know royalty, they had to have children. And Natasha's parents started young under expectations to keep up the bloodline, so despite Natasha having come of age... they're still kicking it. It's just too bad that Natasha is the only baby the King and Queen ever had, so she's the direct next heir to the throne. She gets all the spoiling- all of the riches of the kingdom without any responsibilities just yet.

Anyway, she spends a lot of time entertaining herself. She spends lots of time in the woods, riding horses, and has talked the King, her father, into letting her train with their army. Entertainment. More of it than a young lady is thought to be allowed at the time. But, whatever. She's the princess. She can do what she likes. (I'm thinking vague, vague Meredith from brave vibes-? Natasha is badass with her weapons and daggers in general still-black-widow vibes too but a Princess.)

And one time when she's in the woods, carving up a tree with her throwing daggers, she happens upon one of the myths of their kingdom in the flesh.

A fairy!

A fairy that - after being distracted by the sound of a far off owl hoot which throws her off, so she throws her knife poorly and has to go retrieve it from the forest not the tree - is hiding under the leaves of a tree. Hiding but unable to keep silent because the poor thing- the tiny magic creature is crying!

And after some coaxing and building trust, Natasha is able to learn that this fairy- Steve (not exactly the name she'd expect from a magic being but okay) has been exiled from the hive! He didn't fit in. The others didn't like him. He had to leave. He doesn't know what to do. He hasn't known what to do. And, oh my-

It sure looks like he didn't know what to do because he's skinnier than some of the twigs on the trees around. His tiny ribs poke out on his pale, freckled sides. His legs are all teeny tiny bones, no soft flesh anywhere- anywhere, he's clothed only in a little vine and leaf shorts. His golden, sparkly but translucent wings are dull and don't flutter often, they barely even twitch. His little face is gaunt, making his blue, blue eyes look even larger as they peer up at her through his golden hair.

Natasha convinces the poor thing to climb into her palm after a while. Natasha shares her lunch with him, just a fraction of her meal, but it fills Steve up so much his belly bulges out like he's swallowed a large marble. The dome of his tummy strains around his meal, making gurgling sounds and flushing pink just like his face. He's so Round. So heavy and immense with his meal.

All the while they chat while Steve eats, inhaling the crumbs like he's never eaten anything before. They become friends.

...

Natasha comes back the next day, Steve stays where he is in the forest, so they can find each other and meet up again. But this time Natasha has extra food for him- things she specifically thinks he will like or want to try: pastry crumbs, chocolate, bits of steak, etc. She brings things he has eaten before too, in case he's not hungry enough to be adventurous again like he was the first day: honey and berries and mint leaves and other edible plants. Steve eats as much as he can at once. Then he waits until he can eat more. Stuffing himself with both the familiar and unfamiliar foods. By the end of it, he's flat on his back with his wings pinned under him - the most vulnerable position for a fairy since it means they can't get away easily - and his belly arching out over him.

After that second day, Princess Natasha comes back again and again and again, every day, to the same spot in the forest. She returns to the fairy. They become closer and closer until eventually she convinces Steve that he can be her companion and pet and she smuggles him back into the castle with her.

In the castle they chat, exchanging the details of their worlds, but, Steve for the first part mostly eats. He gorges himself on anything he can get his tiny hands on. He cools off after a while, once the threat of starving isn't so immediate, but he is still outrageous hungry. He can't stop himself. There's so much food. So much food and it's constantly available. Of course, he's gonna eat!

Once, Natasha pokes him in the tummy after one of those gorging sessions with a very gentle, single fingertip but it still jostles a burp out of him. Which makes him feel better, belly less tight with gas. After that experience, Steve begs the princess to rub his tummy with a single finger often. He rolls over and gives her the softest eyes, claiming he needs it just like he needed more food two seconds ago. (Spolier alert: he didn't need more and is now regretting having more because his tummy hurts.)

Begging for belly rubs often, Steve is stuffed on sugary human food more often then not. He has a sweet tooth.

And the fairy eats and eats and eats. He eats so much that he puts on weight. First, he bounces back to his normal weight- the correct weight for a fairy. Then, he gets a little curvy. Curvy turns into chubby. Aaaaand chubby turns into fat (not there's a real distinct line between chubby versus fat though, not when you have the tiny body of a fairy).

But, jeezes, Steve has never seen a fat fairy! Never in his hive or rival hives or any mention of fat fairies in their tales of years past! Natasha has never heard of a fat fairy and she's a human- humans know basically everything!

Steve becomes the first fat fairy.

He gets chubby. So chubby that he can't fly on his delicate, flitting wings. If he wants to go anywhere in the castle - since it's not build for fairies and is large scale - Natasha has to carry him. He can't fly behind her, then hide in her dress when people approach anymore. God, his little body can hardly even walk most of the time. He's not build to be so chubby! But he loves being chubby.

He loves laying flat on his back, splayed out, and feeling sparkling and radiant inside because he's stuffed so full that every inch of him is full. So full that when he runs his fingers over his tummy it feels like magic even though he's not making an effort to channel his aura there. His tummy round and hard. He loves when the princess chuckles at him and picks him up, doing whatever she pleases with him.

And he really really loves when Natasha gives him extra special treats- moist crumbs of the King and Queen's wedding anniversary cake, exotic treats from the kingdom over, seasonal fruits, etc.

However, his favorite treat by far is when Natasha steals full jars of honey from the kitchen. Honey reminds him of the good parts of home. Honey is instinctively a fairy food but he never got much of it. His new home is better than the old but yeah... it's good. With the princess though...

With the princess, she takes the honey drizzler, swirls it through the jar to gather a good amount, and then makes a long stream of the viscious liquid drip from the tip of it down into Steve's mouth. Natasha keeps the stream going and going and going until the fairies tummy is full of honey. Not all of the jar but a good amount. Enough that when she pets his tummy it'll be heavy but not fully hard. He's malleable. His fat tummy is soft and plush. He burps and it tastes like honey. All of the sugar makes him drunk. He quivers and shakes with the weight of the honey inside him, weighing him down 🥴

Uh, yeah, that's my thoughts, idk where they came from

[galaxyedging]

When the West Was Wild

Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

Silva x OFC (no description, a last name is given in later chapters)

Word count:2.1k

Warnings: violence, blood, family death, one smutty line.

Story summary: A women making her own way in the lawless West has her quiet night interrupted by a stranger in need. While helping him she finds a few unmet needs of her own.

Chapter summary: The man at her door is no longer a stranger but how familiar is she willing to let him get?

The first few days passed quite easily. She learned pretty quickly that her guest and Mary had something in common. There are both stubborn as anything. Mary had returned and strapped up his ankle. Two thick pieces of wood framed it, helping him bare his weight. That coupled with the large sturdy stick Thomas had fashioned into a support, helped Silva to get around. They had moved her spare cot into the barn. Silva hobbled over there to sleep. She took him meals and books to read. He can into the house to wash up. It was a nice rountine. On the fourth day he brought her flowers, not the ones that grew on her land, ones from further up the trail. They were neat tidied with some roots. When Mary came over later that day, to change his bandage, he presented her with a bunch too. Apparently, Thomas had been skeptical about Silva's intentions, as if he was trying to charm them. Mary guessed he was just feeling shown up because he hadn't brought her flowers home in a long time.

Within two weeks, Silva began to get around easier. He came over to the cabin for his meals most of the time. The polite small talk gave way to free discussion. They exchanged details of their lives. Silva didn't go into much detail. His parents were from Argentina, he was born in Mexico, he didn't remember living there, he was barley walking when they made the journey North. His sister was born in America, she was much younger than him. The poor soul was only eight when she passed, the flu, his parents were gone too. Silva didn't dwell on it so she didn't press. Her heart ached for his loss.

For his gruffness, Silva was surprisingly sweet. He was an attentive listener. He praised her for surviving out here, for staying when she could have ran back home to her father. The praise made her cheeks burn. It had been a long time since a handsome man had complimented her. Silva was undoubtedly a handsome man, she caught herself admiring him more times than she cared to admit. Their meals together were fast becoming her favourite time of the day. That why she was so upset when he didn't show for dinner one night. Grabbing a lamp and throwing a shawl around her shoulders, she walked out into the chilly night air. A small sigh of relief left her when she saw his shadow moving in the barn. Should she be this attached to a stranger? She pondered that as she made her way to the barn. It only took seconds for him to open the door once she knocked, an apology ready on his lips. "I'm sorry. I lost track of time."

Looking down, she noticed the chisel and mallet in his hands. She made a mental note to have a word with Thomas after he said he had cleared the barn of anything that could be used as a weapon.

"I'll put these away." When he turned back to do so, she saw what he had been working on. In the middle of the old barn sat a large chunk of a cedar. The bottom was untouched it's bark still in place, rising out from the middle of it, rearing up, was a beautifully carved horse.

"You made this? It's stunning. A work of art." Holding the lamp closer she took in all the details. Such skill.

"I hope you don't mind me using the wood. I got a little bored. I thought the work might do my shoulder good. I need to get it moving again."

"Did it?"

"A little, thank you."

"The books weren't to your liking?" She nodded to the untouched stack.

"I wouldn't know. I can't read them."

The man was well spoken, in two languages in fact, it didn't even cross her mind that he mind not be able to read. She really needed to try harder to put herself into other's shoes. "Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't know. I feel so stupid."

"You are far from stupid. Reading is your passion. You wanted to share it. You're kind to do so." She was glad than he was still putting the tools away so he couldn't see her blush.

"Would you mind if I...nevermind." She suddenly felt more nervous than she had when he woke up in her home and she didn't know if he would try to kill her or not.

Tools neatly away, he turned to her. "Go on?"

"I was just going to ask if you would mind if I read to you. It's silly." She giggled like a young girl. Something she was far from. She was a fully grown woman, that was all to apparent by the heat that grew between her legs when he looked at her like that. Like he was utterly charmed by her.

"It's not silly. I would enjoy that." He smiled, it lit up his face, erasing some of the hardship written on it.

That became their new routine. Dinner and a story by the fire. They started with Alice in Wonderland. She could relate to being a stranger in a strange land. He could relate to Alice's confusion, he felt confused himself. He was well enough to leave, yet he stayed. He knew he shouldn't stay but he couldn't bring himself to leave. The wind whirled outside as he listened to her animated recital of a near nonsensical poem about a boy slaying a creature. Her passion for it was infectious, it made his heart light. The warmth from the fire wrapped around him with her words.

He awoke the next morning to find himself covered with a patchwork quilt. It smelled like her. He breathed deeply as she walked out of her room.

"Good morning. You fell asleep, I didn't want to wake you. I hope you don't mind." She tried to bury her nerves in politeness. Leave her to face life on the frontier herself and she was fine, ask her to look closer at the feelings she had for this man and she was a mess.

"Thank you. That was thoughtful of you." He stood folding the blanket gently.

A knock sounded at the door, peeking out of the curtains, she saw Thomas stood there. For a moment she worried what it looked like, a man in her home when they sun was barely up. Then she realised when she opened the door their would be two men in her home with the sun barely up. Silva could had knocked early just as Thomas was. Silva seemed to read what she was thinking as he smoothed his clothes and hair, trying to look a little less like he'd slept in his clothes here.

"Good morning Thomas. How are you?" She tried to sound bright and breezy again. Thomas only paused for a moment to glance at Silva.

"Mornin'. I was actually looking for Silva. I see now you've already seen him."

Blushing slightly she moved back, allowing Thomas to enter. "I have some deliveries to make. My partner is sick today, you up for giving me a hand? It'll only take a few hours."

"Sure, it's the least I can do." Silva nodded.

"Thank you. Meet me up at my place as soon as you are ready."

With that Thomas was gone, leaving them both in the mild discomfort at being caught in a slightly compromising position.

"I better go." Silva moved stiffly towards the door. "Thank you for allowing me to sleep. I was the best night's sleep I've had in a long while." He left just as quickly as Thomas had.

Once her chores were done, she had a moment in the afternoon to sir and read. Or she would be reading if she wasn't thinking of Silva and his 'best night's sleep in a long time'. The man had been nothing but polite in her company. Mary approved of him, which was no mean feat. The only thing that they had to hold against him, admittedly it was a large one, was the man he killed, in self defence. Which if they were holding that as a high crime, both Mary and Thomas were guilty of it too. She had never gotten any details beyond a man had tried to force himself on Mary, he'd then tried to kill Thomas when he intervened, his body was somewhere in the Mississippi and Mary prayed for their souls every night. Her hearted ached that they had to have that hanging over their heads. They did what they had to, just like Silva.

Before the men returned that evening she'd already decided that, if he wished, she would let sleep in the house. The small room next to hers was only home to her writing desk, it was supposed to be a nursery, when that ship sailed she made herself an office. What happed next only cemented her idea.

When the hour got late and there was not sign of Silva, she headed up the trail to see if Mary had any idea where they were. Breaking through the tree line and rounding the corner of their cabin, she was shocked to see Thomas's wagon was back. The horses were still hitched. Stroking her hand along the mane of the nearest one she looked at the wagon for clues. Nothing seemed out of order. Maybe Silva just got caught up in conversation with Thomas. Walking towards the house a cold shiver crept up her spine. The door was ajar. A shadow breaking the light pouring from it frightened her. Her hand founds it's way to the gun in her apron. She pulled the hammer back readying a round. Silva appeared at the door, his hands in the air as she drew the weapon on him. In the air and covered with blood.

"What happened? Where's Thomas?!" The gun trembled in her hands.

"In here." Thomas called. Lowering the gun, she barged passed Silva. Mary, was all she could think. Tears welled at the sight of Mary, safe and well, tending to a open wound in Thomas's back. "Thomas, what...?" The tears claimed the rest of her words.

"It looks worse than it is." He offered her a reassuring smile as he reached for her hand. "It would've been even worse if it wasn't for Silva here. He saved my life." There was a look of mutual respect shared between them. "I'm okay. Silva get her home safe." He took a log swing from the whiskey bottle in his hand.

"Mary?" She called. Mary walked to them ushered them to the door before whispering "He'll be fine. I'll keep it clean, keep the fever at bay. He doesn't like people seeing him not at his best."

"I'm always at my best." Thomas slurred slightly, the whiskey kicking in. Mary hugged her before shooing them further to the door.

Before Silva stepped out Mary grabbed his arm tightly. "Thank you."

A small smile tugged at his lips, he nodded sharply before stepping out into the night. With the horses safely stabled, they made their way to her cabin. Silva told her the story on the way. She had a feeling he was making it less dramatic for her sake. He told her a man had been laying in wait at the low hills that the road carved through. Once they passed him, he jumped to the wagon. His knife was draw, he sunk it straight into Thomas's back. Before he could wield it again. Silva shot him square in the chest. Stopping the wagon, Silva found the man's horse. He loaded his body back on it and sent the horse off running. Easier than trying to dispose of the body while caring for Thomas. The way Silva was so matter of fact about it all made the ache return to her heart. This all really was just part and parcel of his life. She longed to offer him some softness. Maybe she could start with a soft place to sleep.

"Silva, would you like to sleep in the house again? You could sleep on the Davenport tonight then we could bring your cot in tomorrow?" She tried to keep the hope out of her voice.

"If it wouldn't be too much trouble. I'd like that. Thank you."

Neither of them spoke about him leaving that night or the night after or for the next few weeks while he helped Thomas while he healed.

Once both Silva and Thomas were feeling string enough, they began fishing and hunting together, catching whatever they could preserve for winter. Silva became just as much a part of Thomas and Mary's life as he was becoming part of her's.

After one longer than planned trip Silva returned on a Friday night. Her favourite night, she had told him. He expected her to be in the modest bathroom when he arrived back. Instead her silhouette floated passed the window. 'Stars of the Summer Night' played softly inside as he approached the cabin. Rolling his heavy shoulders he dropped his bow and arrow by the door he noted his muddy boots, deciding to leave them there too before he joined her inside.

A wide smile spread across her face at the sight of him. These hunting trips with Thomas may be nessecary but he was starting to resent the time they took him away from her. Those smiles when he returned almost made it worth it.

"Do you like music?" She asked as twirled effortlessly around the space. He dress span out, raising the fabric up her legs a little. Her calves were shapely, her skin untouched by the sun was paler, a thin dusting of hair covered them. Her feet were bare. Her toes gracefully pointed as she spun on them.

Before his time with her he was a simple man, content to deal with what was rather than what could be. Lately, he started to look beyond. He noticed the beauty in the everyday. He took more pleasure in the simplest of things. Like the way she said his name. That it itself was the sweetest melody to him. He could dance all night to it.

"I do." He answered simply.

"Do you dance?"

"I have. Not that I was any good at it."

"You don't have to be good to enjoy it. I sound like a dying cat when I sing, I still do it."

Smiling, he couldn't help move closed to her, he was drawn to her more and more with each passing day.

"Would you like to dance?" She asked holding out her hand in a formal invitation.

He rubbed his hands on his well worn jeans, like the act could cleanse him, wash off all the blood, make him worthy of laying his hands on her. Once he raised his hands in front of him, she quickly guided them into place. One in her soft palm the other on her equally soft waist. Shame rose within him as he felt himself harden at the feel of her under his touch. She was beautiful, strong, smart, she deserved more appreciation that just the reaction of his baser instincts. He thought about the books she read to him. The words she explained to him. The elaborate ones that had complex, double meanings, the ones that sounded like a song from her lips. He searched for the one that he had taken a liking to when she told him. Adore. He adored her. He was completely enthralled by her. Another word she had taught him. A flutter pulsed in his chest at the thought that she might have taught him those words because she though he would need them. Or that she might feel them about him.

Shifting his hips to adjust himself, he settled her closer in his arms with still enough room in between to protect her honour and his modesty. Slowly they began to sway to the music. His barely covered toes, in his threadbare socks, occasionally stepping on hers.

Dreams of the summer night!

Tell her, her lover keeps watch!

While in slumbers light

She sleeps, my lady sleeps!

This was a dream to him, her in his arms, humming happily to the music. It'd had been a long time since he felt the pull of love in his chest. The sense that the whole world is fine as long as that person is with you. That was why he was still here, not to repay his debt, he wouldn't, couldn't leave her. Her light shone back on all these years that was alone. Cast out all the shadows so he saw it anew. All the times when having someone by his side would have made his world better. When he had to bury his parents in the same year. Then his little sister the following winter. Through every hardship he had faced. If she were there, if she had been his only love, things would have been so much better for him. He wondered again if she knew how he felt. She had asked him to dance, asked to read to him, to take him on journeys with her favourite stories, was she courting him? Would she be angry if her was bold enough to steal a kiss from her petal soft lips? Would she give herself to it? Let him take his pleasure? Feeling restless in his own skin, he needed an answer. When she looked up at him, eyes full of joy, he looked deep into them. His gaze kept her there, right where he wanted, he could easily close the space between them to press his lips to hers. He began to when..."Hello? Anybody home?" A voice boomed as a loud knock rang out around the cabin.

Both of them stated at the door like it was going to exploded any second. The shrapnel of their lives out there, ripping through their romantic moment in here.

"Go." She whispered. They had planned for this. There was a space behind the shelves in the pantry that he could fit into.

Giving him a moment to get into place she called out "Who is it please?"

"Sheriff Rockwood, Ma'am." Came an imposing voice from beyond the timber.

Her blood ran cold. Steading herself she moved to the door, opening it to find the Sheriff at the door and a deputy, still on his horse, on the trail, just behind her boarder of wild flowers, that the Sheriff's horse was currently grazing.

"Good evening, Sheriff Rockwood. Can I help you?"

"Not particularly. We're just checking the area. Had some trouble round her lately, on the road up there. We followed the trail down, spoke to your neighbours up there. Are you home alone Ma'am?"

She had noticed Silva's boots when she opened the door. It was a good bet Sheriff Rockwood did too. "No, my husband is in the bath. He was out hunting today, he's downright filthy."

"Oh, that's right, with your neighbour?" He pointed back up the trail.

"Yes. We're stocking up for winter." The Sheriff already knew where her 'husband' was today. She definitely had to be wary of this man.

The Sheriff gave another look over her shoulder into the cabin. "Alright then Ma'am. You have a good evening." Wishing him one back, she watch him leave. He was almost off the porch when he stopped. Her heart sank. "Oh and tell your husband to be careful travelling out that way."

"Thank you. I will. Goodnight now." She forced herself to close the door slowly rather than slam it like everything in her told her to. Slam it, shut them all out, run back to Silva, his arms, his waiting lips.

Silva returned from his hiding place a solemn look replaced the inviting from early. His once pouted lips set in a straight line. "We need to talk."

Tags @kirsteng42 @babydarkstar @prolix-yuy @thegreenkid @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed @aynsleywalker @mswarriorbabe80 @quica-quica-quica

[padfootagain]

The Ocean

Here we go with a new request for my 5k event! Anon asked for a drabble for Caspian with the prompts :

2. "Don't worry, it's just a scratch… OUCH!"

26. "I'm the luckiest though. I have you."

This is a lot of fluff, just cute fluff… I hope you like it :)

Pairing : Caspian x reader

Word Count : 1898

Caspian's love for the sea was not a secret. You were aware of the nickname given to the king. The Seafarer. And that name made by the men under his command, and since adopted by all in the Kingdom, took roots in a true trait of his character. The ocean was just as much his lover as you were, in a way, to the point where you sometimes were a little jealous of the oceanic waves. He sometimes stood on the edge of a cliff, staring at the horizon where two hues of blue met and mingled, without moving a muscle for hours on end. You could read it in his expression every time he was on a boat, by the way his features lit up and his eyes glimmered while the wind batted his hair against his cheeks that he was home. That he was where he belonged, more so than on any throne, more so than in any divine hall of stone, more so even than riding with you through the forests of Narnia as leaves cracked and shivered under your horses' hooves. No, the place that felt like home to him was the ocean.

You couldn't fight his love for the moody waters, and couldn't temper his passion for the salty waves. You had given up on this attempt a long time ago, before you and Caspian even got married. It made him happy, after all. And even if the sea was a treacherous companion, there was little you could do against such a passionate love.

Caspian was well aware of your worry every time he left for the sea, but he always promised he would come back to you, and in his mind there was no doubt that he would. He had never broken a promise made to you - or anyone else, for that matter – and he intended on keeping his word once more.

He hoped that one day you would look at the sea with a friendly eye instead of one of rivalry, but it was difficult for you to share his excitement for the deep waters. It was difficult for you to see anything else in the waves than a force trying to take your husband away.

But you loved him too much, and whenever he was home, you walked down the length of the beach of white sand that ran along the cliffs of Cair Paravel. In the distance, the harbour protected the boats during the low tide, and the purple and golden sails of the Dawn Treader glimmered under the bright sunlight. You remained at a fair distance from the busy port though, seeking with your husband some private time to share, filled with tenderness and breathy giggles, with shy touches of fingertips and stolen glances. You had been married for several years, and yet, you still felt giddy whenever he was around, and his heart still skipped a beat whenever he laid eyes on you. You knew that you were lucky, both of you were well aware that this kind of love was rare, even more so for people of power like the two of you. There must have been someone looking after both of you with magical powers in their hands to guide the two of you on the same path. Caspian always said that Aslan himself must have made sure you found each other, and you had to agree.

You were walking down the beach over the edge of the water, your ankles kissed with the salty water slowly crawling up the sand, the tide rising once more to claim back what was its own kingdom, untamed and wild. Caspian was carrying your shoes and his, his other hand tenderly holding yours. It was warm on this summer afternoon, and Caspian had left his coat in Cair Paravel, choosing to leave for a walk with only a white shirt with large sleeves puffing around his muscles and letting the fabric open upon the upper part of his chest. The medallion you had offered him as a protective token the first time he went off to sea after your marriage was still hanging around his neck, the golden circle moving across his chest with each step he took. His long dark hair was messed with the wind, the light getting caught in his long eyelashes and the beard covering his cheeks. His eyes, so dark, showed a little bit of brown under the bright sunlight instead of their inky usual shade. He looked soft, domestic, so different from the kingly demeanour he had to wear in the castle. Instead, he was just your husband, and you couldn't refrain an enamoured smile to grace your lips at the sight.

The bottom of your dress was drenched with salty water and clung to your calves, but you didn't care. Caspian's brown trousers were wet too, patches of darker shades of fabric marking where the waves had climbed up his legs. You knew several dignitaries who would have been shocked by the King and Queen of Narnia behaving so mundanely, but none of you minded, as you simply enjoyed each other's company. When the two of you were alone, it was so easy to just be yourselves.

You reached a patch of golden rocks emerging from the water where seagulls rested after their long flights. Thanks to the low tide, the beach reached the rocks carved into sharp shapes by thousands of years being beaten by the waves. Caspian's eyes lit up at the sight.

"Would you mind a bit of adventure, my love?" he asked, a mischievous smile brightening his handsome features.

"What do you have in mind?" you asked back, yours eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Follow me."

You could have tried to fight back and pull him back towards you instead of following him as he hurried towards the rocks, but there was no need to delay the obvious. You would end up yielding anyway.

You let him guide you to the rocks, and you climbed on top, Caspian helping you up and giggling every time he had to catch you as you lost your balance. You spent some time staring at the seaweeds that covered the rock, and the tiny pools carved in that hid tiny crabs that ran away when you came too close. You looked for seashells on the edge of the water, and laughed as Caspian came too close to the edge and was drenched by a particularly strong wave, his shirt now clinging to his body, the fabric turning from white to see-through. His hair dried quickly under the warm sun though, tangling in the wind.

He chased you around with seaweeds in his hands, trying to put them on your head, and you laughed so hard you could barely breathe.

It was a perfect afternoon, really, and for a moment, you weren't so angry and jealous of the sea. Caspian had a gift to make you forget about everything else in the world but your love for him. Until your husband, in a clumsy step, slipped onto some seaweed and fell head first across the rock.

You heard him letting out a loud grunt as he hit the ground, and you hurried back to him, crossing the few steps that separated the two of you, all traces of laughter now gone from your features.

"Darling! Are you okay?" you asked with worry oozing from your every words.

"Yes," he nodded, sitting up. "I'm fine, just…"

You kneeled by his side, noticing that he was holding his forehead.

"Let me see," you ordered, and Caspian didn't even think about arguing.

As you pulled his fingers away, a gush of blood ran down the side of his face. But you quickly saw that it was nothing serious. You cut a piece of your dress to press the fabric against his forehead, but Caspian rolled his eyes, trying to wipe the blood away with the back of his hand.

"Don't worry, it's just a scratch… OUCH!" he jumped as you forcefully pressed the clothe against his cut.

"Don't start arguing with me. You hit your head pretty hard."

"It is really nothing to worry about, my darling. Just a little cut. I have seen much worse."

"Don't remind me!" you scolded him.

He rolled his eyes with a cheeky smile.

"You are adorable when you get worried about me. I like it."

"If you want me to take care of you, dearest, I would advise you to watch your words!"

"It is nothing, love."

"We should go back to the castle, clean your cut properly," you ignored him.

"Not yet," he complained. "We still haven't seen the sunset!"

"Caspian, you're hurt…"

But he took your wrist in his hand, pulling your hand away from his forehead, before guiding it to his lips to drop a tender kiss to your pulse on the inside of your wrist. His wound had stopped bleeding already, and now that you could properly see the damage, you had to admit it was nothing serious, a little scratch that would be gone in a week or so.

"I am fine. It's nothing. Let's stay a little longer, please," he asked with begging eyes you knew you would be unable to refuse anything to. "You promised we would watch the sunset together tonight. So, let's stay. Please, stay."

He pulled you closer and closer until he could kiss your lips, making you forget everything about the world around you, goosebumps running up your arms and making your knees shake under you.

"Please, stay," he asked one more time, knowing he had won already, knowing that after such a kiss, he would have broken your will for anything else but your desire to stay in his arms like this.

You heaved a sigh, resting your forehead in the crook of his neck and running your fingers through his messy hair.

"You're lucky you have good arguments in your favour," you yielded, making both of you laugh.

He hummed in agreement, tightening his hold on you and pressing you to his chest as you sat down and got comfortable in his arms.

"I am the luckiest though. I have you," he added, looking down at you before dropping a chaste kiss into your hair, making you smile and close your eyes, relishing in his wooded scent and the steady beating of his heart under your palm.

Caspian's eyes moved back to the sea, resting once more onto the untameable waves, and the infinite possibilities that laid over the horizon. Lands to discover, and monsters hidden, and so many people waiting on the other side. So many mysteries to uncover.

Caspian was well aware people sometimes called him Seafarer. Sometimes, his own men claimed that the ocean was his true home, that he belonged there, on the sea. That instead of a castle, he belonged on a boat. Caspian never paid too much attention to these words, and he never bothered correcting all those that thought the sea was his real and true love, the place he felt truly himself, that the ocean was his home.

Because he knew where his home was. He held it in his arms now.

You were his home. And no matter where the sea would try to take him, he would always come back to you in the end.