#my blue eyed tide

[court-jobi]

Tired Eyes

((Banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's work/characters))

Pairing: Todoroki x reader (UAteacher!reader x Pro-Hero Shoto)

Rating: T+ (smol insinuated spice between lovers)

Words: 2k

Warnings: GN!reader, Behold the FLUFF, est. relationship, stress relief, Shoto is a good partner, just comfort hours, yall, tender kissing, *light suggestive pining* Shouto is a petname king

Summary:

An overworked hero and his under-rested lover are both due for a vacation. You are certainly dreaming of such a time where you can get away, and pose the idea one night when the dreams become just a bit too real and appealing to all your senses to ignore.

A/N: Ok, I super love writing Shoto now. Y'all's love of my first fic convinced me... more love for our half-and-half beau awaits~

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on Ao3

Night sky. No clouds in sight. There is only a sky of deepest blue, a sea of deepest green, and sparkling gems of reflected starlight in between. Music rises from the sandy beach band beneath you, but out of sight from the serenity of this island paradise. 

There’s light, despite the lateness of the hour. Streams from the moon above you: so brightly that it casts shadows through those teetering, cascading palms over the entire balcony.

Just slightly too cold, this wind. A perfect midnight breeze, but you’re hardly chilly. There’s a perfect set of arms holding you around the waist– paired by a warm cheek pressed against your right side: his left.

You don’t get views like this living in such a thriving city. Those skylines hold their own beauty, but it’s hardly a candle to this unspoiled beach. Distant rolls of waves crashing at low tide act as the perfect background noise. Your better half is humming the familiar song that’s playing downstairs there by your ear; a relaxed state emanating from him that you rarely see– 

Todoroki slips into your study, on the hunt for where his darling lover could be. Catching you catnapping at your desk, he runs a hand through your hair to test how deeply you sleep.

‘What’s gotten into you, huh? You never dance!’

‘We’re on island time, aren’t we? What’s the saying.. ‘there’s a first time for everything’.’

‘Breaking news: Japan’s number four hero, SHOTO, dancing his life away with the love of his life’- that’ll make headlines! I gotta make a call-’

‘They’ll never believe you…’

‘Where’s my phone- I gotta get proof-OOPHM!’

‘Stop talking. Come dance~’

A cool hand swipes a finger up your neck, another test.

Kisses outline your cheek in a curve, coupled by dreamy, airy hums. Lips that sear with their ‘want’ of you, laden with heat and obsessed with covering you in their wake. Making you weak for someone who proves his strength with utter softness– and his power with gentleness. 

The man atop you -who worships you- has held your hand for years, but your heart for much longer. Friendship turned to something dearer once you both tested the waters together, which led to seeking out new shores in whatever spare time you could afford– time away being a precious treasure. You’re set on committing these kisses to memory, making the most of this respite that resets his busy mind and serious outlook.

He’s making sure you let go of every ounce of worry, now that he’s feeling better. Making you sing his praises without a care for who might hear over the billow and sway of hala trees.

Making you his.

‘M’love… My love….’

‘-My love?”

You stir suddenly and wake like nothing’s happened. That work email draft still sits idle on your browser and as you turn, the discovery that your boyfriend’s returned from the streets of Esuha comes to life as well.

You breeze past your bleary-eyed stare at the man who was just carrying you to bed, distracting you with his mouth, looking fondly up at you unbound by responsibility…- you were sure it was real, just moments ago..

“Oh Sho– sorry about that, I was just um– heh.."

A teasing eye studies your masking. "Long day?"

A curriculum planning session with Aizawa and Cementoss you’d thought was wrapped up yesterday continued in the main office today. Both heroes had flanked your desk with recommendations for your third year students, as well as the intern assignments for the first years. There also lay plenty of midterm e-filing on the administrative end you’ve been putting off, in favor of helping each of the department heads with their assignments so as to not stop their momentum.

Yet where has that left you? Stretched too thinly, as usual. 

Not only has the Principal wagged a cautious tail at you for this level of stacked taskload, but in your carrying it home, you’ve received disapproving looks from your life partner as well.

Luckily, Todoroki appears more docile than normal– likely the result of his own weariness coming into play and softening his reaction to finding you this way yet again.

Long day yesterday. Long day today, and a long day most likely to face you tomorrow. 

"Yeah.. they do tend that way now.”

"You haven't touched your tea, it's cold." He eyes the way the cup beside you doesn’t steam anymore, with a raised brow. All you can do is rub your eyes and stretch for a little added cuteness.

"I like cold tea- just add a little lemon and some ice~" 

While charming, it sadly does little to sway your Pro-Hero. 

"You're working too late again, sweetheart. We talked about this."

"Look, it was my bad forgetting the deadline. I got carried away with other stuff,” you explain your shortcomings, “But I don't want to be more stressed out later; I just… thought I could tackle it now?..."

“You ‘tackle’ too much during the day. Surely something can be left for tomorrow?”

“There is plenty for tomorrow– but there’s still some tonight.”

Without much expression, Todoroki sinks from his authoritative stance. A blur of mussed red and white hair knelt beside you to allegedly listen… only to swivel your chair for you, and hold his hands out to you. 

You reached out, knowing you needed one of his award-winning hugs. Anything to settle the jolt of waking from such a pleasant dream.

…only Todoroki doesn’t offer you such a solace. Instead he pulls you up the rest of the way, and tosses you up over the shoulder and carries you by your pinned thighs. Paying no mind to your exclamations along the way to the bedroom,  you can’t even look back at him from this angle he carries you in .

"Sh-Shoto! C'mon, I can do this! I just need another hour or two - like two-and-a-half, tops."

He set you down on your feet by the bed, though you plop down onto the edge under his intensive -yet loving- stare. Todoroki lightly bridges over you, a hand atop each thigh to keep close to you.

"After… you take a shower, change out of these clothes, and eat something, then we can discuss your work schedule. But I won't let you run yourself into the ground." 

He cupped your face and tenderly ran both hands down your hair and back to cup your entire face. His hands finding their comfortable home on your cheeks, you melt at the soothing touch of Todoroki’s thumbs brushing tender skin that’s graced by your shut lashes- where some semi-dark puffiness lies from interrupted rest. 

"You have tired eyes, love.” your sweetheart whispers to you, “You're not listening to your body. Let's take care of it."

It’s the same argument you’ve coached him through sometimes. Though as a Pro-Hero, he’s taken the hint of self-care that you selectively ignore when it’s turned to you.

You sighed, but opened up to a well-meaning gaze; Shoto really was the most beautiful human you’d ever seen. 

"Okay, honey. You win."

He smiled- wrenching your heart again, “I'll warm up our dinner."

“What do we even have?” you fight for the memory of what’s in the fridge.

“Don’t worry about that,” Todoroki settles you with a kiss on your forehead, “I’ve taken care of all of it.”

You hop in and out of the shower in record time and dress down in a curated set of pajamas, courtesy of Todoroki himself. Prepped and pre-heated in the towel warmer right beside the shower door, the gesture was just one of the many expressions of his love for you. 

He timed his reentry perfectly, changed into lounge clothes as well and armed with a small tray complete with an assortment of some of your favorite poppables you can make a meal out of: crisp veggies, some rice balls, a touch of fruit for sweetness– all expertly topped with a green onion finish. 

It’s a taste of something you’d maybe find on vacation. Even the way Todoroki plates this late-night snack meant to share… you’re spoiled by the presentation, without any special occasion sparking it at all. He makes ordinary Tuesdays feel like more. Sunday evening scaries aren’t something to dread anymore. Small moments in the daily -that hearken to the indulgent moments you work hard for- make the biggest difference in your weekly grind.  

“You’re not off the patrol rotation around Golden Week, are you?” you ask wistfully, armed with a lightly sauced onigiri.

Todoroki stills from putting away some clothes; midthought, in puzzling fashion.

“Actually, I think so,” he gives a soft little smirk that’s more sleepy than pleased. “Iida and I worked out that he wanted some family time off the week after, so I offered to team up our agencies for that month to ensure smooth coverage while we’re both gone. The school is closed too, right?”

It’s perfect timing, you think. How you want to make your dreams a reality…

“We are. Got me thinking…”

Settling your finished tray aside to join you, Todoroki listens in.

“D’you think maybe if I get back in your good graces -not doing so much after-hours work-” you make a few bats of the eye to him, “...maybe we could get away for a bit? Take a little holiday?”

“A trip?” Todoroki asks. 

You hum your request, hoping he’ll be open to it.

It’s hardly a fight; by the way his brows lift in amusement, it’s only obvious he’s never been asked about such a thing before, but loves the idea.

“Where did you have in mind, darling?”

Only the subject of your dreams: a beach hidden from the rest of the world, where cell reception is next to none (you pray) and where good food and good music are all you need to focus on while you spoil each other rotten with a selfish streak of alone time. 

You shouldn’t feel so possessive of him -he’s a Pro-Hero who’s responsible for keeping this corner of the world safe… but you have to say, the idea of taking a break at his side has been seeping into your dreams long before tonight. 

You can’t stay silent on it anymore. 

“Somewhere there’s water.. And at least a six hour time difference. And a comfy bed.. N’ you.”

An amused huff leaves his nose again, transfixed on how soft your face looks at this moment. 

“Big end of the bargain you’d have to hold up,” Todoroki teases, his voice worn by a day on duty and tenderized to sleepy perfection, “I know you can’t always escape it.. Can you promise no more after 9PM? Would that be fair?”

You accept the challenge, “That’s a good window. I could do that.”

Todoroki trails a warmed hand up your arm to ultimately cup your cheek.

“Promise no more lukewarm tea?”

“Is that so bad an offense to you?”

“Nearly unforgivable. Grounds for disowning, if you’re Nana Yaoyorozu.”

You giggle in your delirium, “Well, certainly can’t have that! No more, pinky promise.”

Leaning in, Todoroki seeks out a last condition, 

“Promise I get my kisses in the doorway again?”

“Missed them tonight, huh?” you sigh guiltily.

Todoroki teased your partly open mouth, “Terribly.”

Nudging his nose, you beam at your sweetest reason to get up in the morning, 

“I promise, my prince. Whatever you want. So please, can we?”

Matching the nuzzle and never one to refuse your wants or needs, Torodoki dives back in to kiss you, 

“How can I say ‘no’ to my angel. Of course we can. A little break in paradise might just be what we need~”

You know no one works as hard as he does. Carrying the legacy of Endeavor is a hefty enough charge, forget that he’s set to forge his own path past what the reputation has already afforded him. Shoto has become a household name to many; though yours is where he is most content to come rest his head and heart.

With the dangling treat of a getaway with him on your horizon, you set the intention to finish your work after this aside for the morning, entirely. Shoto has already made his plea to hold you for the rest of the night, and you could never refuse his tender asks. When he treats you like royalty, how could you not in return? 

With your shared kisses and brainstorming of vacation destinations now on the mind, you’re hardly focused on student affairs; you have dreams to fulfill. 

[hederasgarden]

Okay so talk to me about the Werewolf/Witch AU with August pls!!! It automatically got my attention.

Pairing: Werewolf!August Walker x Witch!F!Reader Word Count: 629 Warning: Supernatural themes and some sexual content.

When you turn the corner, you let out a startled shriek, nearly dropping the lamp. There’s a large man sitting on your sofa. He smiles, or tries to, revealing a row of sharp white canines beneath his thick mustache.

“Relax,” he says gruffly. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

His voice makes the hairs on your neck stand up. There’s something wrong with his presence, a nagging sensation you can’t quite place. As you take in his broad features and the predatory glint in his eyes, it dawns on you with a jolt: he’s not just any intruder. 

He’s a wolf. 

In your living room. 

Every instinct you have is screaming at you to flee, yet you find yourself rooted to the spot, the lamp clattering to the floor with a dull thud. Wolves were dangerous and unpredictable, existing on the fringes of magical society, and this one is the largest you’ve ever seen. He’s well dressed too, wearing a sharp cut suit and tie. 

“You broke into my house,” you manage to stammer.

“You weren’t home,” he replies, as if that simple fact somehow justifies his intrusion.

You shake your head, struggling to clear the fog in your thoughts. Why haven’t you thrown him out? The magic you need thrums just beneath your skin, ready to be unleashed, but you find yourself paralyzed. What is happening?

“You need to leave,” you tell him, taking a cautious step back.

He rises smoothly from the sofa. When you take another step away, he follows, as though an invisible tether draws him toward you. The unnerving dance continues until your back meets the wall, and he looms over you. One large hand grips your forearm, yanking you forward so you crash against his solid chest. His nostrils flare as he leans in closer, inhaling deeply.

You squeak in surprise and try to pull away, but he doesn’t let you get far. His hold remains firm, keeping you pressed against his chest.

“Can’t you feel it?” he continues, his head tilting slightly to one side, as though he’s listening to something you can’t hear.

The air between you feels charged, and the weight of his words sinks in, leaving you disoriented.

“You’re crazy,” you whisper, struggling to free yourself from his iron grip. It feels like trying to push against a wall of granite. “I don’t feel anything, I don’t, oh…” 

Your voice trails off as you stare at him, wide-eyed. There’s something inside him, a kernel of magic that calls to your own. You feel an undeniably pull — primal and profound. When he notices the shift in your expression he leans in closer, his breath hot against the skin of your temple.

“Mine.” He growls. 

He tugs at the neckline of your dress, his warm breath falling against your throat. You feel dizzy, time moving slowly until the feel of his fingers dragging up your inner thigh snaps you out of your haze.

“Hey! W-what are you doing?” you manage to stammer.

He groans and you give him a sharp thump on the back. When he pulls back to stare down at you, his eyes are golden colored and his teeth longer than they were a minute ago. 

“Mating,” he replies simply.

“What? I don’t even know your name!”

He nips at your throat, and you yelp.

“Listen here mister there will be no mating until names are exchanged and about 10 other steps happen.”

He blinks, and his eyes shift from their eerie golden hue back to the blue of the delphinium blooming in your garden. Though he doesn't release his hold on you, something shifts inside him, like the tide going out.

“August. That’s my name.” Then to your surprise, he says your name. “Now we know one another.”

[circinuus]

"Hey, Yoichi."

"Yeah?"

Isagi watches you grin. He can already piece the puzzles. Something is going to go very, very wrong.

"Come sleep on my lap."

He was right.

With a jolt, the poor boy grows frazzled. Wide-eyed and mouth agape. His cheeks redden like the blush of dawn you worry lest he overheat and plop down on the warm grasses.

Years of acquaintance with his sweetheart—his everything. Isagi corrects himself—don't seem to be enough to prepare him for this. For you. Call the boy the master of being adaptable, but there's something about you that never fails to surprise him.

"Aw! Come on~"

Pat pat.

You tap your upper thigh. No skin is exposed, no. But with you sitting on your knees, the light fabric of your midi skirt did nothing to shield the outline of your-

"Absolutely not!" he splutters, hiding the blooming blush with the back of his hand. The spring wind blows a gust of dandelions. Then he remembers that you were enjoying a nice picnic and each other's silence, just now. Him watching people—and stealing glances at you. A little—while you munch on a butter sandwich. Just now.

"Why not?" the sandwich is now long gone in your digestive system. And of course, you'll find something out of pocket when you have nothing in your hands.

"I saw some couples doing it on social media, isn't it cute?"

"I mean," he coughs, "it's really sudden, but.. if you're okay with it..?"

"Yes yes!" your hands clap, "Besides, you've been working so hard. I gotta spoil you, my little precious!"

Just like that, his face reddened again. Eyes flitting from your face, then to your lap. Then like a boy caught stealing cookies, they drift hastily to a space behind you. It's difficult to imagine. This is the same boy who throws violent insults on the football pitch like Santa giving presents on Christmas. Get you a man who can do both, they say.

"Well.." Isagi hesitates, but scoots closer all the same.

Pspspspspsps!

"Here! Here!" You pat your thighs again, perhaps a little bit too eagerly. With the spring tide clouds rolling by, Isagi finally rests his head on your lap. His hair slightly tickling you through the fabric of your skirt.

He was tense, yes, the sweet boy. But you slowly thread your finger through his dark locks, caressing the crown of his head. Who was he to resist against your touch? Isagi soon melts in your hold and relaxes his head in your cradle.

You close your eyes, content, and once again you both enjoy each other's silence. Another gust of dandelion seeds flew by. Your other hand reaches for his as you hum a small tune. Your thumb rubbing circles in the back of his hand.

"(Name), you're very pretty."

And then Isagi took his turn to surprise you, this time.

Looking down, gone was the bashful boy with a skittish gait. His eyes are of a deep shade of blue like the prettiest sapphire you could ever find. And he dons the expression of a boy who might be stricken by a deadly case of young lovesickness.

Maybe he is. Because he reaches for your cheek as you are both lost in each other's eyes. And maybe you too. Because you smile at the sweet words and let him guide your face towards his, enough for your lips to...

"Mwah!"

-Reach his nose!

Isagi blinks. He received a perfect little Eskimo kiss!

"You're such a tease!" his laugh melds with yours, still in the comfort of your hold. Then you make another of that radiant grin. The one that Isagi really likes.

"Only to you," you said. And the lovesick boy can only wonder how the universe has given someone as perfect as you for him.

Turns out he was wrong, after all. With you, things will always go very, very right.

I feel rusty it's been a while since I wrote something 😞 also first bllk fic in this blog :') things are getting out of hand and now im attached to these football nerds.

and isagi he is uhh canonically a thigh type of guy so...

[orions-choker]

Bitter Water (Siren! Jason Newsted x Reader NSFW)

Siren! Jason Newsted, Cum Eating, Ambiguous Ending, Voice Kink

Word Count: 4,205

Reader is drawn towards the seas tender embrace and the sweet song of a pretty boy on the shore.

(Cross posted to AO3, the third installment of my Metallica Monsters collection.)

The taste of salt hung heavy in the air, cool against the skin was the breeze bouncing off the murky waves. The beach was rocky, jagged and unnerving. Nothing like the white sand and crystal clear waters Y/N was used to back home. “Tell me again why we came here instead of somewhere like Miami?” She complained, pulling her jacket tighter around her body as she turned to her friend.

Her eyes drifted across the horizon line, it was a clear enough day, yet fog danced low across the ground. “C’mon it's like a fun spooky adventure.” Her best friend's voice chimed as she slowly crawled down the embankment. Y/N eyed her cautiously, surely there had to be better ways to get down to the beach than that?

“We can’t even swim here.” Y/N grumbled once more, despite this she followed her friends pathing, sliding down the dirt as she tumbled onto the small beach. Waves lapped at the shore, tide pulling in and out leaving a wet sheen against the rocks. “This feels like there should be a lighthouse here and an angry fisherman.” Y/N crouched down, hands grazing against a small stone that seemed to glean in the few rays of sunlight.

The rock seemed out of place amongst the dark gray stones. It shimmered a brilliant turquoise color, flecks of white and dark blue spattered amongst it. It seemed almost as if it emanated its own light. Curiously she scooped it into her palms, cupping it around its eye to test its glow in the dark properties. “Hey! Come look at this!” Y/N called out to her friend excitedly. She pulled away, handing it to the other girl. “Have you ever seen a glow in the dark stone?”

When not focused on the stone, Y/N’s gaze seemed to drift towards the sea each time. Her eyes wandered as the girl inspected the stone for herself. “No way, that's so cool, it has to be fake though right?” She asked Y/N as she handed it back. Y/N nodded slowly, rolling the stone between her fingers. Her eyes caught onto something in the water. Surfacing to the shore a dark black mass slithering its way through the waves. Her eyes widened in surprise.

“Big fucking fish.” Y/N declared, pointing towards the sight with her empty hand. She stood up, daring to step closer to the water as she attempted to get a better look. “Sturgeon maybe?” She questioned. Suddenly the water danced at her feet and she jumped back in surprise. Had she gotten that close to the water so fast?

There were hands on her shoulders, tugging her back onto the beach. “Woah there Y/N, don't go walking into the ocean on me.” Her friend's laughter crackled through the heavy air. “What if it's a shark that wants to eat you.” She teased, steering Y/N back towards the incline that led up to the road once more.

Y/N rolled her eyes as she climbed back up to the pavement. “Sharks rarely attack people, you know?” She scoffed. As her feet hit sturdy ground once more Y/N realized she still had the stone clutched tightly in her hand. She smiled softly at it, shoving it gently into the front pocket of her jacket. “C'mon, where's this waterfront hotel you booked us?” She followed the other girl further down the road.

The hotel was old, A sprawling old property, three stories and painted with a peeling white paint. The beach it inhabited was much more like the ones Y/N was accustomed to, more sand less stone. Still the water didn’t look even a bit more enticing. She frowned at the sight. This vacation was becoming more and more disappointing each moment she stayed in this sad seaside town.

Her room impressed her only moderately more. It was clean at the very least, a large balcony door that led her directly out to the beach. She stepped forwards to the large doors and pulled back the billowing white curtains. The waves seemed more aggressive now as she looked out into the ocean, dark storm clouds were on the horizon. Her eyes narrowed in on an odd movement, there she saw the tail of a large fish peak from above the waves and sink down below once more. She gasped in astonishment, that was bigger than most fish you would see along the shoreline.

Patiently she watched once more for a glimpse of this beast, but it never came. She stopped back from her door, pulling the curtains closed once more as she shed her clothing for the day. A long afternoon of traveling meant an early night. Reaching into her pocket she pulled the stone once more, rubbing her thumb across the smooth surface in admiration. She placed it gently on the old wooden nightstand. She stepped into her long nightgown, shivering at the cool breeze that seemed to penetrate the flimsy walls against her bare skin.

The bed was hardly anything to write home about, a little bit too stiff against her back but nothing she couldn't power through, especially not with how tired she was. Exhaustion radiated in each of her bones as she rested her head against the flat pillow. The gentle whooshing of the waves outside served as a fantastic white noise as she surrendered to sleep.

Y/N’s slumber lasted only a short while though. She awoke to the gentle light of the moon dancing across her walls in the shape of the ebbing water. More surprisingly she was stirred by the sound of low melodic singing carried across the air. Confused, she swung her legs over the side of her bed, the wood freezing against the soles of her feet. She shuffled to her sliding door, peeking outside into the dark. As she got closer the louder the singing began.

There, laying casually at the waterline, backlit by the moon was a man. From here she could make out his shirtless form, wild curly hair splayed out beneath him. Her brows furrowed as she squinted for a better look. Her body seemed to move on its own as she pressed the lock open, quietly sliding the door open.

The sand was soft between her toes as she stepped out, the singing grew louder yet. Wind whipped against her legs, jostling the light material of her nightgown. Y/N couldn’t make out any of the words the man sang, a language foreign to her ears yet full of emotions she knew by heart. Wanting, longing, yearning. She took a few more steps forward, he seemingly lay partially in the sea, from his hips down engulfed in the dark water. Perhaps he was hurt? One more step forward and abruptly the soft melody ceased, his head snapped towards her, too far away to make out his features but she could see his body stiffen in surprise. He moved, shifting his body weight onto his hands, ready to push himself up and run.

“Wait!” She called out, the words leaving her without a second thought. She took a long stride forward, hand outreached towards him. She could see his face now, gleaming under the moonlight. He was handsome, strong jawline, slightly squared chin, deep set blue eyes. His hair a wild mane of reddish-brown curls. Just as soon as she saw him he was gone, slipping beneath the waves in one swift movement.

She yelped, running into the sea in a panic, the water rose to her calves, dampening the hem of her gown. In the distance she saw it again, the dark slithering of a large fish, moving away from her quickly. Her heart pounded in her chest as she looked out. No signs of the man who had been here just a moment before. The tides were not strong enough to suck a person down below the depths like that, had he been attacked by something?

Soon the freezing water against her skin was too much to bear, she backed up, sand sticking to her wet skin as she walked back towards her room. Looking cautiously over her shoulder to the water once more. There, just for a moment she saw something once more. Peeking from below watching her, those eyes, that hair. It dipped down slowly, fully submerged as she stumbled back into her room.

In a haze she stepped into her bathroom, running the tub to wash the evidence of her excursion from her skin. She watched curiously, the sand and dirt swirling down the drain as the water rinsed her clean. She didn’t catch another moment of sleep that night, her head resting against the pillow, staring out across the beach, desperate for another sign of what she had just witnessed.

Y/N watched the sun rise slowly into the sky, unmoving from her position until there was a gentle rapping at her door. “Holy crap you look like shit.” Her friend's voice greeted her as Y/N opened the door. “Couldn’t sleep?” She asked sympathetically.

“No.” Y/N mumbled in response, rubbing at her heavy eyes. She moved to the side, allowing the girl into her room as she closed the door behind them. “Could really use some breakfast.” She didn’t elaborate further on her sleepless night, knowing the disbelieving reaction her friend would give her. She stepped out of her sleepwear and into another long flowing summer dress, a deep blue color that swirled around her in a breathable fabric.

With a grin her friend dragged her from the room. “Well you’re in luck, eggs benny is on the menu this morning in the restaurant.” She informed Y/N. The restaurant in question was more akin to a hole in the wall diner on the main floor of the hotel. It was surprisingly busy, filled with mostly old couples and the occasionally family unit. In the corner booth Y/N nursed a warm milky tea as her friend aimlessly chattered on about today's itinerary. Her eyes glazed over as she looked across the diner, she prodded lazily at her hashbrown, moving them around her plate in disinterest. “You know, you shouldn’t play with your food.” A soft voice came from behind her. She watched as her friends eyes widened and sparkled with interest first before she turned around to entertain the man,

She was stunned into silence at the person she was greeted with. Unmistakably it was the man from the beach last night, his hair tamed and pulled back into a ponytail, a red flannel covering his chest, sleeves rolled up his arms. Her mouth gaped open like a dying fish. Before she could say anything her friend piped up. “Oh oh my gosh hi!” She introduced herself quickly, tucking her hair behind her ears with a flirtatious bat of her eyelashes. Y/N couldn’t blame her, he was one of the most enticing men she had ever laid eyes on. “And this is Y/N!”

Y/N blinked at the mention of her name, quickly snapping her mouth shut and holding her hand out in greeting. “Jason, nice to meet you gals.” The man, Jason, greeted them, shaking their hands kindly. “What brings you here?” He asked, striking up a casual conversation.

The other girl took the lead, Y/N still in a stunned stupor as she watched Jason speak, his gentle laugh as melodic as his singing. She was positive that was out there last night. The whole interaction had seemed so other worldly that she nearly hadn’t believed it was real. She found herself drawn into the way he spoke, luring her in gently.

“It was a pleasure talking to you two, see you around.” His farewell snapped Y/N out of her trance. Panic rose as she watched him walk away, she needed to ask him what last night was all about. Quickly she excused herself from the table, ignoring her friends' protests. She all but ran to catch up with the other man.

“Hey wait up, Jason!” She called out to him, following him outside the doors of the hotel. Her hand grasped onto the back of his shirt as she stopped him. He turned around, eyeing her expectantly. “I saw you, last night, you disappeared.” She tried her best to explain between short breaths.

He smiled at her, lips pulling back to reveal sharp teeth. “You did.” He confirmed with a nod. “You have something of mine by the way.” He hummed, leaning down closer to her face. His eyes seemed to trail across her skin. “Bring it back to me tonight please.” He asked sweetly before stepping away from her once more and turning his back to her.

Y/N was unable to move as she watched him walk away, as if she was under a spell until she could no longer see him. She shook her head in disbelief. Left with more questions than answers she returned to her confused friend in the diner. She couldn’t bring herself to answer any of the girls' probing questions as they paid for their breakfast and moved on.

Before they headed into town for the day Y/N felt compelled to return to her room, pocketing the glistening stone off her nightstand and tucking it away into her bag. The day passed by Y/N in a blur, countless trinket stores entered, mediocre lunch on the pier, a cover band that night at the local pub. There was only one thing on her mind. Jason. What did he mean to bring it back to him tonight? What was it that she had of his? Was this some weird ploy to lure her out and murder her? The sight of the hotel once more was almost an unwelcome one.

She stopped facing her friend. “You go on ahead inside for tonight, I think I want to take a walk along the beach before bed.” She assured her friend with a small smile and a wave, watching her disappear beyond the front doors before turning to the landscape before her. Her sandals sunk heavy into the sand as she wandered, the sky was dark, stars twinkling above her like fairy lights.

To her right Y/N heard a splash in the water, she turned to see nothing, yet still she felt compelled to walk towards the sound. Her eyes strained to make anything out in the dark as she approached the shoreline. This section of the beach was rockier, reminiscent of the first beach they had visited when they arrived. She stepped carefully across the jagged stones.

Then she heard it, the same low singing from the night before, ebbing and flowing, guided by the breeze to her ears. She followed it until she saw him again. Relaxing against a stone partially submerged beneath the waves. “Jason?” She called out curiously as she was pulled forward by an invisible force.

He turned his head lazily towards her, his damp curls caressing the side of his face as he grinned. His lips moved around the words of his song effortlessly. There beneath the water, the flick of an inky black tail, scales shimmering like an oil slick in the low light. Her eyes dropped to his lower half in awe and amazement. Words were lost on the tip of her tongue, and still her legs pulled her forward, deeper into the water.

Her dress floated around her waist as she approached him, only when she stood beside him did the hum of his song cease. She watched with wide eyes as he leaned over, hand dipping into her now soaking purse as he plucked the glimmering stone from its hiding place. Within his hands it seemed to glow brighter, casting a blue glow across both their faces.

“I lost this, thank you for finding it.” He whispered, snapping her from her trance. His eyes were kind as he grasped her hands within her own. “It would be really bad if I lost it.”

Y/N swallowed hard, hands shaking in his old, her eyes drifted back to his face stunned at his close proximity, his body curved towards her. “I…What are you?” She mumbled softly. She could feel the stone pressed against the back of her hand and it vibrated pleasantly as she spoke.

His laugh echoed off in the night like the chiming of bells. “Siren, Mermaid, Sea-Nymph.” He rattled off the mythological species. “Whatever you want to call me.” He shrugged. His hands dropped hers and she found herself grimacing at the loss. “And this pretty little thing is the source of my entire being.” He held up the stone once more before slipping it into the small wire cage that hung from his neck.

“I'm sorry I took it.” Y/N apologized, eyes trailing from his neck down his chest, glistening with water, down his navel to the subtle v shape of his hip bones before it transitions to scales. Her mouth felt dry suddenly as she studied him. Deep within her she felt panic, confusion. But on the surface she felt soothed with each word Jason spoke to her.

He laughed again, shaking his head. “No, really thanks to you I found it, I probably wouldn’t have found it on my own.” He assured her. Gently his hand reached out, thumb stroking over her cheekbone tenderly. “I promise your help comes with reward.” He whispered, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

It was unexpected but not unwelcome, Y/N found herself eagerly returning the kiss. She leaned into his touch as his hands gripped her hips beneath the water, pulling her in deeper. She peered down curiously as he seemingly stood before her now. Where there was once scales was replaced with skin. She pulled back in confusion, her hands gripping onto his shoulders. “Is that something you can just do?” She asked breathlessly, gesturing down to where his tail once was.

Jason leaned forward, capturing her mouth with his own once again. “Yeah, when I feel like it,” He whispered against her skin, sending shivers across her skin. “Do you want this Y/N, I'm not using my voice against you, It’s all up to you.” Suddenly all her questions about the persevering feelings of being drawn to him were answered.

Still now, even without the added pressure of his enticement she found herself desperately wanting more of him. “Yeah, yes, please.” She affirmed. His hands moved to her shoulders, pushing the fabric of her sleeves down her arms allowing him to easily tug the dress down and free her breasts.

Y/N hissed at the sudden cool air against her nipples, pulling the skin taught. Jason hoisted her up, wrapping her legs around his waist as he moved to press her back against the rock he initially was resting against. Her lower half was lifted out of the water now, droplets running down her smooth skin as she was left exposed. The fabric of her dress was bunched around her waist as Jason leaned down once more to kiss her tenderly.

She placed her hands against his chest as she allowed herself to be completely enveloped by his loving touches. The calloused pads of his fingers moved across her body so gently it almost tickled, finally coming to rest on her spread inner thighs. They pulled away from each other breathlessly. His lips came to rest on the outer shell of her ear, “Beg for me,” He commanded her softly.

A high whine worked its way from deep within her as she felt his fingers inch dangerously closer to her heat. “Please Jason, I want you, want your fingers inside me.” She gasped, the words coming from her all on their own. She felt the tingle under her skin that she was coming to associate with his voice.

He grinned down at her, his thumb came to gently rub over her clit, eliciting a moan so loud it bounced across the water. A heat rose to Y/N’s cheeks as she heard it echo. “You sound so pretty.” He mumbled, kissing down her neck as he slipped a digit into her waiting hole. She sucked him in desperately. He curled his finger, rubbing against the soft spongy spot inside her. Her legs seized around him, back arching up off the jagged rock as she pushed her hips down onto his hand.

“Oh god, Jase’ please more.” She pleaded, her fingers digging into the skin of his shoulders as she clung to him. He complied easily, slipping a second finger inside stretching her out just that little bit more that left her mewling pathetically. “F-fuck.” She stuttered out.

With each curl of his hand, each press of his thumb against her clit she could feel with warmth unraveling from within her lower belly. “Cum for me.” Jason sucked at her collarbone gently, lapping at each bruise he made with his tongue. His next command had her release crashing over her. She came around his fingers, shaking in his hold as she pulled him closer, her head nestled between his neck and shoulder as she cried out softly.

Each breath she sucked in was shaky as she came down from the high, her body shivering as Jason pulled his fingers from her. He brought them up to her lips. “Open,” He spoke, prodding her lips apart as he pressed his fingers coated in her juices against her tongue. Obediently she lapped at them, sucking them clean with a moan. “Good girl,” He praised her with a smile.

Y/N pulled back with a pop, a string of saliva connecting her to Jason's fingers as she looked up at him, her pupils blown and fucked out. “Fuck me?” She asked him hopefully, rolling her hips down to seek contact with him. He raised his eyebrows with another grin.

“As you wish sweetheart.” He rubbed his thumb along her bottom lip. He reached down, grabbing the base of his cock to align himself with her dripping entrance. He rubbed the head against her swollen and abused clit. She hissed in response, body attempting to lean away from his touch but he held her steady in place. He chuckled lightly at her, reveling in the slightly annoyed glance she gave him.

Without warning her sunk into her, in one go fully sheathing himself, their hip bones pressed together as she yelped in surprise. He shushed her with a soothing whisper, pushing her damp hair behind her ears as he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. “I got you, don't worry.” He sighed, content at the warmth surrounding him.

He rolled his hips against her, without pulling back, putting an intoxicating pressure against her walls and her clit simultaneously. “M’gonna move now, kay’?” He warned her before pulling back just a bit, pressing forward and back slowly. He moved like the ocean on a gentle day, pushing and pulling like the tide as he worked himself inside her. Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck, breathy moans escaping her each time he pushed forward. “Oh god, Jason.” She whined, tossing her head back. “Fuck, sing to me.” She asked. He stilled his movements in surprise. He stared down at her in awe.

“You want me to sing to you while I fuck you baby?” He asked teasingly, hands gripping tighter at her hips. He leveraged himself forward, thrusts becoming more desperate. He leaned forward, humming his song into her ear gruffly. His voice a little lower, choppier as he fucked into her. The melody had Y/N climaxing a second time, the vibrations of his voice against her skin sending her over the edge once more.

Her body went lax in his arms as he chased his own relief after her. Gasping out the final words of his tune as quickly pulled out, hand grasping his cock as he shot his load across her tummy. Hot spurts of cum coating her skin as his head dropped to her shoulder.

They breathed together, for a moment, the air silent around them as their heartbeats calmed. Y/N reached down, swiping at the release across her skin with her finger and bringing it to Jason's mouth. “Open,” She mimicked him with a giggle. He looked up at her from where he rested his head and parted his lips.

His tongue swirled around her finger, tasting his own fluids eagerly as he sucked the digit clean. He grinned up at her as he swallowed. She watched him in awe, one of her hands reaching up to tangle in his hair. “Thanks for the reward.” She tugged him up to kiss him once more.

They lay there for a long moment, in silence as the water brushed against the skin. Slowly the tide pulled them in deeper, Jason's hold on her body tightening as they sunk deeper and deeper beneath the waves. Locked onto Jason's lips, Y/N was unable to gasp for air as she was pulled under into the darkness, the last glimmer of light in her eyes the glowing stone around his neck.

[erule]

Nothing you can take | c.s.

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x fem!reader

Summary: you and Sejanus make a bet involving you and Coriolanus, that you’ll have to become a couple in order to get some money from him, but everything changes when the two of you fall in love for each other for real.  

Warnings: fake dating AU, (kinda) enemies to lovers, bet to fall in love trope (if I can call it like that), sunshine x grumpy/black cat x golden retriever trope, light violence and mention of blood, romance, comedy (I think), (probably) slow burn, fluff, angst

Word count: every chapter of the series will have a different amount of words 

A/N: hi! Here we go with my first Coriolanus story!! I don’t know if Coriolanus is OOC here, because I watched the movie like one month ago and I still have to read the book, but I did my best to make him similar to the character I saw. Anyway this is a fanfiction, so please don’t be mad at me if he’ll be, I’ll probably need him to be for the storyline. I apologize to the people in the tags, because I’m really late with the upload, but I’ve been really busy in the past few weeks. Anyway, I hope you like it. Enjoy! X 

Tag list: @meeksity, @mxacegrey, @astess, @jasmineee05. 

Masterlist

Prologue – Don’t fall in love with me 

“Coriolanus Snow? Are you sure?”

“Yeah. What’s the matter, Y/N? You think you can’t make him fall in love with you?” Sejanus asks with a grin. 

“Oh no, I was just thinking about the amount of money you’re gonna give me when I’ll win”.

“Don’t, he’s not easy”.

“A challenge, uh? Even better!” You exclaim. “Now excuse me, but I have to go. Before your last drink, watch me sing and put under my spell mister Coriolanus Snow”.

“Careful, Y/N. You don’t wan’t to fall in love, right? People say he’s got a very cute pair of blue eyes”.

“I prefer the color green as my money, Sejanus. Prepare to lose”.

“I think you don’t know what’s coming for you, Y/N”.

You run to the stage, your place in the world, where you can finally give free scope to your passion: singing. Singing has always made you feel free, but tonight, perhaps due to the tension of the challenge, you feel a constriction in your chest. You and a little tipsy Sejanus have agreed on a bet against Coriolanus, but you have a better idea to win: you will tell him everything immediately, in order to pretend to be together for a while, so Sejanus will pay you and you will split the money with Coriolanus. No one will be fooled in the end, right? And then everyone knows that he needs that money too, so he certainly won't suffer from it. While you taste the victory on the tip of your tongue, the words escape your mouth. You apologize to the audience and your gaze falls right on Coriolanus, who isn't paying you the slightest attention, while he's drinking a beer on the sidelines, his Peacekeeper uniform making his eyes as blue as the tide stand out. Sure, Sejanus was right, but that doesn't change anything: a pair of light eyes isn't enough to make you fall in love.

Coriolanus Snow goes to the Academy, he dresses well, but that doesn't mean he's rich, far from it. You, on the other hand, were kicked out of the Academy because you didn't like their behavior, which is why Sejanus is your best friend. You always had the feeling that Coriolanus liked to follow the rules, but in reality he probably preferred to have control, power or money more than a conscience. That's why he's never been kicked out and you've never particularly bonded. It's not that you're greedy, no, it's just that you need money for your family and if a stupid bet can get it easily, then you will do anything to earn it, since the pub doesn't pay you enough for your fantastic shows. And anyway, Coriolanus is certainly an attractive guy, which isn't a bad thing.

“This song is dedicated to all the handsome blue-eyed boys here,” you announce, then grin, while some of your fellow soldiers make fun of Coriolanus and he finally notices your presence. “This song is called Nothing you can take from me and I dedicate it to my old school friend, Coriolanus Snow. Come say hello to me later, Coryo!” You exclaim with a wink and notice his gaze shift to you. For a second, just one, you feel a shiver run down your spine. You would never have believed that playing with fire could make you feel so cold.

Your song makes everyone present dance, everyone except him obviously, who continues to stare at you coldly, without smiling or saying a word, like a marble statue and this almost scares you. It also happened at the Academy, but there you didn't pay attention to it, also because there was no need to win his attention, but here there is a lot of money at stake and you need it desperately.

You descend onto the stage with a feline leap, you leave your guitar aside, while a roar of applause and compliments accompanies you behind the scenes, hoping that Coriolanus will follow you. The door closes behind you, but when you turn around, no one is there. Well, no big deal, it means you'll go look for it later or tomorrow at the latest, there's no rush anyway. But you feel observed and this sensation worries you a lot: it's as if you have someone behind your back.

"Well?"

You turn around, surprised that he's there. Up close he's taller than you remember and you can see his blonde hair well, even though it's shaved. His arms are crossed as he looks you up and down, but without eyeballing you, just a look of pure curiosity painted on his face. So why do you feel like a hunted animal?

“Coryo”.

"Do not call me that. You asked me to come here, right? You asked for my attention in front of everyone. I'm here now. What, the cat got your tongue?” He asks you, a crooked smile somewhere between amused and mischievous that gives a sinister light to his face. He has enough charm to seem like the Devil.

“Don't get any illusions, it's just a game”.

“I don't like playing and you don't like winning, as far as I know.”

“Those games are abominable and I think you know it too, since you're here, right?” You ask him. His smile fades and inside you rejoice, because you know you've hit the mark.

“Speak quickly, Y/N, the rooster crows early in the morning.”

“I have a proposition for you,” you tell him, getting dangerously close to him. He doesn't take a step back, but you see him on guard, almost as if he expects to be stabbed at any moment. “I bet Sejanus that I would make you fall in love with me,” you reveal to him and he smiles wickedly. “I only did it because he promised me money in return and my family needs it. I'm telling you this because I think we could pretend to be together for a while so he'll think we're really in love. In the end, I will split the money with you, since you need it as much as I do,” you explain to him.

For a moment, he observes you, perhaps because he is trying to understand whether you are sincere or not, then he nods, his face serious.

“You know, maybe I was wrong about you: you like winning as much as I do.”

“I wouldn't play if it wasn't for a serious reason. We both know that Sejanus pays and well."

“But he's your friend, right? I wonder why he is doing all this."

“Maybe he's just bored.”

“Perhaps,” Coriolanus repeats, thoughtfully. “Anyway, Tigris must never know. I only ask for this in return,” he says and you offer him your hand.

"Deal".

“And try not to fall in love with me, Y/N. Unlike many others, I don't like playing. You wouldn't survive."

“There's no danger, Coriolanus,” you say, shaking his hand.

Now you feel less sure: why do you feel like you've just sealed a pact with the Devil?

[perksofbeingpoet]

it is early morning. sunbeams tickle todd’s eyelids open, slipping into the warmth of his dreams with an apple-pie scented softness. the leaves outside are crispy red and orange, golden fire of change, but the air hasn’t turned cold yet. the blanket is exactly the right weight, and todd doesn’t hurry to get up.

he can hear soft laughter from pitts’ and meeks’ room, fragments of a song being sung by sleep-sticky lips. his own lips turn upwards into a smile without him needing to decide on that action, and todd’s chest fills with light at the realisation. he’s happy. he’s really happy here.

the echo of a song is still in the back of his mind, images of charlie dancing, knox’s laughter. isn’t todd so very very lucky to be awake, alive, surrounded by these people, people who make happiness easy?

it’s like an instinct, a reflex, to look over at the other bed at that thought. neil’s still sleeping, his restless body so calm that todd can almost feel the comforting tides of neil’s breath. his hair is dark and messy on his pillow, like sea grass. it looks soft. the late summer sun pours gold over neil’s face, shows all the little spots and moles dotted across it like an artist’s signature, painted by his finest brush. he’s so pretty.

he’s so pretty, and todd has to swallow thickly because some sort of sentimental feeling rushes over him at the sight of neil sleeping, neil with his guard down. i’ll keep you safe, todd thinks. we’ll keep you safe. your laughter has found its place in my chest and i won’t let it go.

todd hears a soft thud from the room next door, and pitts groaning in pain – probably correlated, probably the wardrobe door. he laughs, pushes the blankets away. the nostalgia is gone, there’s something else inside him; a fluttering burst of energy. the september sun paints a rectangle on the worn floor of their room, and todd steps on it like a bridge to neil’s bed.

“mornin’, neil”, he whispers, sitting down on the other’s bed, feeling the mattress dip beneath his weight. neil groans and scrunches up his nose like a cat and turns away.

todd huffs half a laugh. “come on”, he says, shaking neil’s shoulder. “you don’t wanna miss breakfast, do you?”

neil is sleep-warm, he looks younger like this, still all soft and pink and raw from sleepiness, and todd wants to kiss him. “neil”, he says, “you gotta stand up. i’ll have to resort to force if you don’t.”

he hears neil chuckle into his pillow and todd’s heart flutters and shakes. “oh yeah?”, neil mumbles, still turned away, half hidden under the blanket. “i’d like to see you try.”

todd laughs and then he flops down on top of neil, laying on him full force. “get oofff”, neil complains, trying to roll over and push todd away, “you’re so heavy!”

they’re both laughing, and neil does emerge from his blanket, sleepy eyed and with a grin he’s fighting very hard not to let show. “jeez, you could have just pulled the blanket away.”

todd runs a hand through neil’s hair, soft and messy and smelling like starry nights, and smiles at him with his whole face. “can’t believe you’re complaining about having me in your bed, i thought you said-”

“i did”, neil says, a spark in his pine-needle eyes, “and i’m not really complaining, you know that.” he pulls todd in for a kiss (does it so simply todd’s chest opens up into an endless blue sky, because he still can’t believe this is a thing they just do now), and todd hums a yes against his lips.

the bed is soft and warm beneath them, and sunlight makes the tips of neil’s hair look golden, like amber. todd kisses neil’s face until neil is belly-laughing into it. pitts and meeks are still singing in the room next to them.

“you know”, neil says, looking at todd with the sun in his eyes, “i really, really like you, todd.”

todd smiles. the leaves outside are not moving, there’s no wind. just an open blue sky, and an endless day stretched out in front of them, full of potential. he nudges neil’s shoulder.

“come on, loverboy. we’ll miss breakfast.”

happy birthday, mia! <3333 i'll write you a real birthday note into your asks but please know i love you lots and hope this turned out as you wanted it to. love you always @yourfavvgal <3

[author-morgan]

Title: White Knight Pairing: Ser Erryk Cargyll x fem!Reader Rating: M Summary: You and Erryk both know what it means when he swears the oath of the Kingsgaurd, but it does not make it any easier. Warnings: typical Westerosi shenanigans A belated Christmas and early Valentine's present for @mrsragnarlodbrok! ❤️🎁😘

For our love is a ghost that the others can't see.

HE COMES TO you in the night, bringing urgent tidings which leave him elated and distraught. For weeks there were whispers in the Red Keep of who the new members of the Kingsgaurd would be in the wake of Ser Robin Shaw and Ser Clement Crabb’s recent passing. Arryk and Erryk Cargyll’s names garnered much attention and praise from the Lords of the Court and Small Council in recent weeks. The twins are of noble stock from the Crownlands. They are fine men. Among the best warriors the Seven Kingdoms can offer, as so few returned from Prince Daemon’s war in the Stepstones.

The whispers were proven true at the feast to celebrate Prince Aemond’s fifth nameday —and with Aegon and Aemond quickly growing, the young princes would need their own sworn swords. The honor of serving alongside his brother in the Kingsguard is one Erryk has dreamt of since he was a boy. Now Viserys has extended that honor to both he and Arryk. But the vows he must take weigh heavy on his shoulders with the thought of you. 

“Do not let me dissuade you, Erryk.” His clear gaze flits up from the flagstone floor to you —smiling and happier about the news than him. “To be named a knight of the Kingsguard is among the highest of honors,” you reason. Boys dreamt of serving in the Kingsguard, and so few are ever offered the opportunity to fulfill their boyhood dreams. Despite it all, you know why he has come to you so distraught —it is the status of your courtship and the oath he must swear. 

You know the oaths knights swear well enough, and those of the Kingsguard too —have heard the young princes and boys at court whisper them with starry-eyed aspirations of donning the White Cloak one day. I swear to ward the King with all my strength and give my blood for His. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, and father no children. I shall guard His secrets, obey His commands, ride at His side and defend His name and honor. I pledge to His Grace my life and honor from this day to the end of my days.

He grips your hands, blue-grey eyes pleading with you to understand the gravity of this moment —what it means for the two of you and the future you’ve both thought and spoken about. “I must swear to never marry.” Erryk’s voice wavers as he echoes the oath. “To father no children and hold no lands.” I can live without a Keep and land to call my own, he thinks. “I do not wish to give you up.” It’s a hoarse whisper that makes your stomach churn with sorrow and heart ache.

You love Erryk, dearly, and for that, you cannot let him set aside such an honor for you —the daughter of a newly named vassal house of the Riverlands. His name will live on in history should he don the white cloak but would surely fade if he takes you to wed. And after all, given your position in court, it is unlikely you and Erryk will truly have to be parted from one another’s company. “I am one of Rheanyra’s ladies-in-waiting,” you remind him, gently, “and you are to be one of her sworn protectors.” You can see the corners of his lips twitch upward beneath his scraggly beard. “I do not think we will often be parted.”

Erryk’s brows furrow. “You would have me break my oath?”

“No!” You quickly exclaim. “I only meant we do not have to become strangers should you accept the king’s offer,” you explain. “We all must make sacrifices in this life, and I would not have you give up your dream for me, Erryk.”

Erryk exhales, his breath shaking —it seems as though you have decided for him. “Grant me one last night then, my lady,” he says, a whispered plea, as he looks at you, pinning you there with his warm, nigh doleful gaze, as though he can’t decide how to proceed or how to make this night last a lifetime. Erryk settles for a chaste kiss. It’s soft, save for the familiar scratch of his beard against your cheek and jaw and searching as he waits for you to give him an indication of where this night is to lead. And when your lips meet again, it's with intention —fingers threading into Erryk’s hair, anchoring yourself against him, and ruining the half-bun that keeps his long dark hair from falling in front of his face.

He moves forward, easing you back toward the bed —a plainly furnished wooden frame and a lumpy straw-and-feather stuffed mattress you’ve shared many times before. He lays you back, never once daring to part from your lips, your touch. Bliss makes your head spin, and upon coming up for air, you find his eyes staring into your own, communicating everything you could ever wish for and everything you can never have.

The chill of the night air turns your skin to gooseflesh as Erryk pushes up the hem of your chemise —the rough pads of his fingers brushing across your stomach and then higher. You squirm out of the thin piece of linen, and he tosses it aside, pausing above you for the briefest of moments. He breathes your name, a soft sigh; then his lips trace over your collarbone before he sits back on the edge of the bed, toeing off his boots.

He glances back up to your face and uses your arms to drag you closer to him, hooking them around his neck as he kisses you deeper this time. You feel his hands settle on your waist —warm and strong as he pulls you against him. He’s hot. Skin and mouth. And every touch and lingering caress sets you alight, burning on the inside. Erryk parts and stares down at you —memorizing the curve of your chin and upper lip, the soft glimmer and adoration in your eyes as you look at him. Between the ache in his heart and the voice in his head, it’s nigh too much, and he dips back down for another kiss, this time parting your lips, relishing the startled breath you give.

Your hands wander across his shoulders and back, gathering the linen of his tunic in your hands before pulling free the hem from his britches and drawing the off-white fabric up and overhead. Erryk shudders when your lips brush over his chest, fingertips wandering over the muscles of his arms and back —committing the feel of him to memory. But his hands wander too, and you can’t help but tense up when you feel his fingers ghost over you. Your legs spread wider for him, and you’re rewarded with a stroke from the entrance of your cunt to your clit.

He does it again before pressing a finger into your warmth, working you slowly open. Your hips jerk softly along with his movements. He hums when a second finger joins it, quickly kissing you again to hide the little whimpers you make with every move of his hand. He knows your body just as well as you do, and it’s easy to tell exactly how he needs to touch you to make you gasp and clench around his fingers —and he’s relentless in his efforts. His thumb rubs firmly against your clit, and you jolt.

“Erryk.” His name is a soft plea for more or to stop. You aren’t sure which. His free hand brushes a stray hair out of your face, and you smile up at him, unfocused and panting hard. You clumsily grab for him but get distracted by the fingers shifting inside you. He moves slower, dragging over the sensitive spots he’s found inside you —leaving your nerves tingling with every touch. His mouth finds yours again, and you run a hand through his hair, then his fingers angle themselves just right to stroke the spot that pushes you over the precipice.

Rising from the bed, he undoes his belt and the ties of his britches, stepping out of them and his drawers. Then he finally lets you touch him in return, and you run your hand along the length of his hard cock. He tilts your chin up with one finger to steal another kiss, and you let out a small sigh —willing to give anything to make this night last a lifetime. Erryk rejoins you on the bed and pulls you atop him, straddling his lap. You adjust yourself, and his hands settle at your hips to line your body up with his. He guides you downward, and you feel the head of his cock push inside your cunt. He bottoms out inside you in one smooth thrust that makes the air catch in your throat.

“Are you alright?” He asks, ever the gentleman, as his lips trail faint, soothing kisses along your shoulder. You nod wordlessly. There’s only the pleasant and familiar stretch of his cock. You give his shoulders a reassuring squeeze, and he lifts you by the hips and brings you back down onto him. He watches you, murmuring praises for you that would sound unbearably cheesy coming from anyone else. His stare is wide and unblinking as he appreciates the sight of your cunt taking him in over and over. Your knight is so romantic it should be embarrassing, but somehow all you feel is affection —another of his many talents. You pull him down for another kiss, long and slow until your lungs ache, and you can feel his lips curve into a smile against yours.

Erryk reads you like a book —a battle plan— ready to adjust his pace or intensity perfectly to match your wants before you can even ask aloud. He does all the work for you, his grip firm on your hips to guide you up and down along his cock. You shift in his arms to drag your lips down his neck, and he brings you down at an angle that’s just a bit different. Your body reacts immediately to the sudden stimulation, nigh severing the only thing keeping you tethered to shore in a sea of ecstasy. His own breath stutters in his throat at the feeling of you clenching around him. Erryk thinks he could spend the next thousand years like this, and it still wouldn’t be enough. And it drives him to madness to know this must be the last time to have like this.

You whimper and groan in frustration when he pulls you off him and lays you back on the bed, but then he’s clambering over you, the bedframe creaking with the shifting weight. Nestled between your legs, his cock nudges deeper and sends lazy tendrils of euphoria curling through you. Erryk’s eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen, shining with love and lust and something akin to awe. You lean your head back, arching your body to better accept him, every ridge and vein of him dragging against you.

Hooking your legs around his waist, you roll into his thrusts, pulling him deeper. His ragged breaths and grunts mingle with your sighs of pleasure, your panting scarcely keeping up with the demand of your racing heart. His kiss is rough and desperate —a wet and messy meeting of mouths as his rhythm loses its steadiness and any semblance of control as he seeks his own end.

He lifts his mouth off yours, and rough fingertips slide between your bodies, pushing through the sweat and slick to strum your clit. His eyes are heavy and half-lidded as he borders the precipice of his pleasure, nearly there, dragging you with him for once more before he will allow himself his release. 

His cock throbs and twitches as your body tightens and clenches under the tender assault of his fingers. You let your head fall to the side, pulling you under the fog of ecstasy. Erryk doesn’t need much longer, only a handful more thrusts, before he gives in. For a moment, he remains like that, half leaning over you, his eyes shit, catching his breath. Then he shifts, and you can feel the extra warmth between your thighs.

Erryk’s gentle as he relaxes his arms, lowering himself to rest on top of you. He lays his head across your chest, ear pressed against your skin to listen to your heartbeat as you run your fingers through his sweat-damp hair, keeping him close. He’ll pull his softening cock out of you soon enough, but at the moment, all he wants is a minute of peace like this. A moment to remember.

With deliberate movement, Erryk shifts back, drawing your body with him as he lays down on the bed once again, pulling you with him. Softly, his palms smooth over your bare back, your figure pressed to his as warm skin sticks together. And his fingertips lightly trace back and forth over your neck as you carefully adjust your head, resting it once more on his chest —whispering your affections.

WHEN RHAENYRA WISHES to return to Dragonstone, you are among the first she asks to accompany her back to her ancestral home. It is the growing rift between her and the Queen that drives the heir to the Iron Throne across Blackwater Bay. Erryk already knows when you find him sharpening his sword outside Prince Aegon’s chambers. But the King has made him and his brother the protectors of Prince Aegon and Aemond. If but a fortnight sooner in her decision, Erryk would have still been Rhaenrya’s sworn shield. He holds you, weeping, for as long as he dares and promises this will not be goodbye. And you pluck up the courage to kiss his cheek before returning to your chambers to ready your belongings. But as you glance back over your shoulder at Ser Erryk Cargyll, he cannot help but wonder if taking the oath was truly the right thing to do.

He comes to pledge fealty to Queen Rhaenrya. Offering the crown of her father —and grandfather— as he recites the vows of the Kingsguard once again. And after little Visenya’s pyre is naught but ashes and the first war council concludes, he comes to you in the dark of night sans armor —echoing a night nigh a decade ago. You open the door to your room, surprised to find him standing before you after all these years apart. 

“Erryk?” He steps to you. “I...what are you–” Chapped lips softly cut off your nervous rambling, and you close your eyes, sinking into his warmth, his smell, nigh all your worries quickly forgotten. He envelops you in every sense of the word, and you let yourself wonder if this is what home truly feels like. Alas, quickly —too quickly— he pulls away, resting his forehead on yours and a hand atop the one that rests on his shoulder. Everything fades as Erryk whispers your name. You kiss him back without thought of consequence, hands moving to the nape of his neck to draw him closer, unwilling to be parted again. Oaths be damned, Erryk thinks, if Rhaenrya must have his head for this offense, then he’ll gladly walk to the gallows. 

[House of the Dragon taglist: @batmomphd / @beelanie / @crispmarshmallow / @crvshnburnn / @darkravenqueen98 / @dollvi3e / @erzsebetrosztoczy / @fictionaldistraction / @gallimaufrea / @hb8301 / @hc-geralt-23 / @holysmokesblog / @idkjj04 / @instabull / @javisjeanjacket / @katie007123 / @ksziggy / @lady-stark-winter-rose / @lillianastras / @lostingoogletranslate / @lucyhotchner / @michellepreg / @midnightmuze / @mikariell95 / @misskatiewrites / @moonlightsspirit / @moshpot24x / @mrsragnarlodbrok / @m1ndbrand / @nenelysian / @nerdy4itall / @newtsniffles / @notbrookie / @paprikabadger / @poisonedsultana / @purestxblood / @qhbr2013 / @safe-within-the-stars / @sandronebabyy / @sapphirehearteyes / @savagemickey03 / @schniiipsel / @singular-itae / @thewintersnoozer / @watercolorskyy / @xcallmetaniax / @xiakahazou /@xinyourdreamsx / @xxgarden / @23victoria ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my House of the Dragon taglist, or any other taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

[abarbaricyalp]

🦐 if you haven't done one for it yet 😆

🦐 : Fishing boat I was going to wait to post this for Samtember, but the Paul and Darlene prompt is too far away 😅

Sam almost tripped down the last two steps into the cabin of the boat when he realized there was someone asleep on the ratty two-seater that took up the side wall. Sam himself had slept there countless times, window cracked open so he could hear the sound of the ocean (but not let in seagulls). It was as familiar a bed and lullaby as his mama's arms and song.

Still, this was not the boat for strange men to lay about in. He put up the toolbox he'd been using to fix the screen door. The one in the truck had disappeared when he was meant to be reattaching the window units to the upper floors in the new house. If he didn't put the boat's box up, it would be the next victim of the fixer-upper that had become a black hole for tools, supplies, and old work shirts.

He made sure the box wasn't going to fall over as soon as the tide came in and then moved to kick the intruder's dusty boot. The one attached to the leg that was sprawled across half the length the cabin, not the one that was thrown over the back of the couch. "You can't sleep here, old man," he said. "Find some other hole."

The man startled upright, lurching to his feet and reaching for the stained Wilson Family Seafood cap he'd had over his face to block out the light. For a moment, he looked young again. Bashful at being caught, a little confused about where he was, uncertain on his feet as the boat swayed under his sudden movement.

He wrung the cap in his hands like it was some cloth newsboy thing instead of something with a brim and metal buckle at the back. "Gosh, Sam," he said, ducking his head and flashing up baby blues at him from across the cabin. "I didn't mean to, honest."

Sam's chest tightened so fiercely, he almost thought he'd be sick with it. "No harm, no foul," he said, instead of offering up everything he had. "Head on out, now."

When the man kept staring at Sam, wide eyed, apologetic but not quite contrite, Sam moved to lean against the back of the wheel column. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched the man's hungry gaze take in the movement and the effect, shirt pulling tight across his biceps and chest.

"I can make it up to you," he offered, eyes snapping up to Sam's face.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "And what do you think it's worth?" he asked.

The man began to close the distance between them. It was all of three steps even when the cabin wasn't a mess of half completed projects and late night camp outs, but he made it slow somehow anyway. He put the cap on again, backwards this time so the brim wasn't in his face, so his hair was pulled back away from cheekbones and a square jaw and those damn bright eyes.

"What do you need?" he asked, when he'd come close enough that, if his arms were crossed too, their forearms would be touching. He brought his fingers up to Sam's elbows, trailed them up his triceps. On habit, Sam squeezed his arms in to his ribs to avoid being tickled. The man only grinned, crooked and easy, and brought his fingers back down to Sam's elbows. He was long fingered and sun-warmed and Sam never wanted him to let go. "I'm good with my hands."

Sam laughed once. He had to look away from the show in front of him. He bit his lip, willed the joy in his chest to simmer down again. That was a losing battle.

The man ducked his head so he was within Sam's vision again. "I'm better with more than my hands," he offered.

"You're shameless," Sam corrected.

The man grinned and shrugged, each as crooked and carefree as the other. "I spent a lot of my life bein' ashamed. Now when I see something I want, I get it. I'm not wastin' anymore time."

Sam finally unfolded his arms so he could put two fingertips to the man's cheek, then flattened his hand against his face. The man's eyes fluttered shut and he leaned into Sam's touch, vulnerable and safe at the same time. He knew it. Sam knew it. Safe with each other. Safe in this boat. Safe from shame.

Safe from work too, now that Sam thought about it.

He guided the man closer until he could duck his head down and kiss him softly. "You really should get out of this boat," he warned quietly. "My sister's gonna be out at some point. She don't like other people messin' around in here."

The man was literally swaying on his feet. His eyes still weren't open. "I don't mind," he said. "I've been yelled at before."

"Nah, you don't know her like I do," Sam insisted. He took a step back and the man blindly followed his lead. He sat when Sam shifted a little, eyes open now, and put his hands on Sam's hips when Sam straddled his thighs. "She might throw you in the ocean this time."

"She'd knock you overboard first. You're the one always tinkering with the engine. What's she gonna say when she realizes you used the boat tools for something else?"

"She's not gonna know," Sam promised.

"She's gonna know."

"How's she gonna know?"

"I'm gonna tell her to keep from having to walk the plank."

Sam laughed and draped his arms over Bucky's shoulders. "Are you blackmailing me now? Weren't you just trying to pay back sleeping in my boat?"

"Was I?" Bucky asked. "You figure out what it was worth yet?"

"I think I've got an idea."

"I'm all ears, sweetheart."

"I don't need your ears for this one."

Bucky grinned against Sam's mouth and let Sam kiss him like they'd never get caught down here. And when, a few hours later, they woke up again, sore from the uncomfortable tangle on the uncomfortable couch, he offered to payback another nap on the boat. And another, and another, and as many as he could fit into this life time.

[speaknowworldtour]

“i tell you that i think i’m falling back in love with you” // “who’s gonna stop us from waltzing back into rekindled flames if we know the steps anyway”

“stitching ‘we were just kids, babe’. i said ‘i don’t mind it takes time’”// “and you said you’d come and get me but you were 25 and the shelf life of those fantasies has expired”

“starry eyes sparking up my darkest night” // “i thought i was better safe than starry eyed”

“your touch bought forth an incandescent glow” // “i felt aglow like this never before and never since”

“i’d die for you in the same way, if i first saw your face in the 1500s off in a foreign land… we would’ve been timeless” // “if you know it in one glimpse, it’s legendary”

“and when we go crashing down we come back every time” // “never quite buried”

“you paint me a blue sky and go back and turn it to rain” // “you lowdown boy you stand up guy”

“but it lies and it lies and it lies a million little times” // “you said i’m the love of your life about a million times”

“clear blue water high tide came and bought you in” // “who’s gonna tell me the truth when you blew in with the winds of fate”

“for a moment i was heaven-struck” // “and told me i reformed you”

“your integrity makes me seem small. you paint dreamscapes on the wall.” // “when your impressionist paintings of heaven turned out to be fakes”

“if you never looked my way i would’ve stayed on my knees and i damn sure never would’ve danced with the devil” // “well you took me to hell too”

“and all at once you are the one i have been waiting for” // “and all at once the ink bleeds”

“forever is the sweetest con” // “a conman sells a fool a get love quick scheme”

“you showed me colours you know i can’t see with anyone else” // “but i felt a hole like this never before and ever since”

“i like shiny things but i’d marry you with paper rings” // “and i wouldn’t marry me either” // “give you my wild give you a child” // “you shit talked me under the table talking rings and talking cradles”

“you would’ve been the one if you were a better man” // “i wish i could unrecall how we almost had it all”

“but if he’s a ghost then i can be a phantom” // “dancing phantoms on the terrace” // “my beloved ghost and me sitting in a tree d-y-i-n-g” // “can we watch our phantoms like watching wild horses”

“it must be counterfeit. i think there’s been a glitch” // “i can’t get out of bed cause something counterfeit’s dead”

“in my defence i have none, for digging up the grace another time” // “should’ve let it stay buried”

“the coward claimed he was a lion” // “you said i needed a brave man then proceeded to play him”

“i’m combing through the braids of lies” // “was any of it true?”

“you see me in hindsight tangled up with you all night burning it down” // “our field of dreams engulfed in fire your arsons match your somber eyes”

“and i’m never gonna love again” // “and i’ll still see it until i die you’re the loss of my life”

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: "A Cottage by the Sea"

This 7 chapter MC was written for the @cssns20 event, and I have always been pretty proud of how it turned out. This one pulls a bit from Pirates of the Caribbean and a bit from 1989's The Little Mermaid, and then throws in the happy ending vision that came into my head that I just needed to find a story to help them reach. I've been travelling back through all my @cssns entries recently, and I hope you'll enjoy this one if you didn't see it then - or if you decide you might want to revisit it!

**Beautiful cover art is by @searchingwardrobes! I'm still in love with it and grateful to have it to put with my story.

Summary: Princess Emma has always been drawn to the shores of Misthaven, where the sea meets the shore near her parents’ castle. When an unknown boy washes up on the sand, with eyes as fathomless and blue as the waters that brought him to her, he soon becomes Emma’s best friend, her partner in crime, and her other half.  But the tides give and the tides take away, and as her blue-eyed boy sails in her father’s navy and risks all in defense of those who made him family, unexpected danger and challenge will try to tear them apart, and might well show him just where he came from that day he first appeared to her from the sea…”

**Also available on AO3, if that's your preference**

By: @snowbellewells

Prologue

The land around her parents’ castle had always called to Princess Emma. The open spaces and craggy cliffs she could see in the distance as they plummeted into the churning sea, were windswept and wild much like herself. Though she had always been cared for and beloved, the sole heir to the kingdom of Queen Snow White, Emma also felt the desire to run free, as if she were destined for more than curtsies, crown fittings, and learning to smile demurely. Naturally, she adored her happily devoted, perfectly paired father and mother - just more so when they were teaching her to ride or aim a bow than when they were reminding her once again that she must exude patience and diplomacy at even the most interminable state dinners. She valued her kingdom and its people, understood the honor of her role in it, but that knowledge and affection failed to negate the fact that she often wished just as strongly to rip the fancy curled updos and jeweled tiaras from her head and run streaking like a loosed cannon along the wet sand at the ocean shore she could see from her chamber window, hair streaming behind her and cool, salty air on her face. All the proper princess etiquette and worries left behind.

The easiest - and her most favored - cure for that feeling of wanderlust and burning energy within was for either her mother or her father, or both whenever possible, to take her walking along the water’s edge in the evening. Emma would almost swear the Queen and King enjoyed the calming getaways almost as much as she did, both as a moment to be free of so many fussing, crowding, obsequious attendants and hangers-on, as well as to feel the open air of the world outside their palace cleansing them. She knew - though from nothing more than history and bedtime stories - that her parents had once lived and thrived out of doors, falling in love on the run as rebels before her mother regained the kingdom she had been born to lead. Both her mother, once a legendary bandit, and her father, who had started life as a humble shepherd, seemed to appreciate the chance to escape the castle walls of stone and venture out on their own with their adored and wild-hearted little girl. It concerned neither of them that Emma was bold and adventurous, bucking the traditional prim and dainty image of feminine royalty; in fact, they might have treasured those traits in her even more for how they harkened to what each loved most in the other.

One such evening, however, Queen Snow had been kept well into the twilight hour in a council meeting over trade routes and revenue, along with Emma’s father, and even Red, her godmother. Waiting impatiently, Emma fretted that she wouldn’t get outdoors and down to the shore at all, as she sat in the wide, cozy window seat of her tower room, looking out over the waves crashing up on the sands. She took in the lights of ships in their harbor, the mist and waves, and she longed to be closer - to be part of it all. In fact, she was mischievously contemplating whether or not she could scale down the outer walls in her nightdress and robe, and get to her usual walking course alone without being detected, when the door to her room opened behind her.

Snow White entered in a pleasantly flushed bluster of activity. Charming followed her with an indulgent smile, happily sweeping his daughter up into his arms as she ran to him in an excited blonde blur. She might be nearly 10-years-old, but he could still swing her up in his arms and twirl her through the air and all around the room as easily as he did when she was but a babe. Giggling happily, Emma threw her arms around her Papa’s neck and revelled in the exuberant joy of his affection.

When he put her down again, she immediately hopped around him excitedly tugging on his hand. “Can we go out for our walk now, please? Down by the shore… can we? Can we, pleeease?”

The King shook his head with a rueful chuckle, having known this would be her request the moment they set foot in their daughter’s room. She was made for the out-of-doors, an enchanting sprite of waves and sky, and he found it nigh as impossible as ever to disappoint her if her wish was within his power. “You’ll have to ask your mother this time, Sweetheart. I have more meetings, stores to check for the winter, applicants for aid to hear, a few more hours of work this evening yet.”

Snow smiled at him over Emma’s tousled blond head, nodded her agreement to a short jaunt while there was still light, Emma squealed with glee and danced an excited little jig before scampering toward the door, pulling at her mother’s hand impatiently, determined to hurry her along, Queen or no.

“You and Granny had better have cocoa and biscuits waiting for us when we return, Charming,” the dark-haired monarch grumbled, appearing stern, but the playful spark in her eyes told her husband she wasn’t really that upset. He was assuring they had what was needed for charitable giving to those less fortunate throughout the kingdom once harvests were over for the season; it would take but a moment to let the head palace cook know his wife’s wishes before continuing with his tasks.

“Anything for you, Dear,” he playfully mock-bowed before happily accepting a sweet kiss on the cheek and following his wife and daughter from the room. He was off in one direction; Marco and Jiminy both waiting down the hall to help him judge numbers, ask questions, and take notes, while Emma and Snow went in the other, headed down the stairs to the first floor side entrance and quickest path to the shore Emma was so anxious to reach. Charming supposed that many might think it strange he was not more troubled by letting his beloved and his only child wander outside the grounds alone, but his Queen could more than take care of herself. And if he knew Snow’s trusted bodyguard at all, the Huntsman they had long ago freed from Snow’s stepmother’s control, he would not be far if they had need of him when David could not accompany them - whether he was in view or not.

~~***~~

They were hand in hand, Emma’s shoes in her mother’s grip, as she skipped with exuberant satisfaction at her side, toes squidging with the exquisite feel of the wet grains of sand as she did. It was all Emma had wanted all day, from the moment she’d gotten dressed and shared breakfast with her parents and godmother, informal as they had no visitors in the warm, cozy castle kitchens. Throughout her interminable etiquette lessons with the Blue Fairy, and studying with her tutors, she had wanted nothing more than to be carefree by the water like this, and she was beside herself with excitement to be there at last.

Ruffling her daughter’s hair, Snow let the worries and concerns of meetings, treaties, budgets, and protocols slide from her shoulders while the evening breeze caressed her face. Tilting her head back, she closed her eyes for a moment and laughed into the wind right along with her precious child. Perhaps she had needed the escape just as much.

Then, with a sharp jerk, Emma’s smaller hand tugged from hers with a cry of surprise. “Mama, look there!” she called, her fingers slipping from her mother’s grasp as she began to pelt across the sand in alarm. “A boy! A boy just came out of the water!  He’s hurt!”

Immediately, Snow White’s focus was sharp, snapping back into full awareness, scanning ahead of them to where she saw a dark, bedraggled shape, not much larger than Emma, lying on the lighter colored beach. Emma had run forward in such concern that she had already almost reached the small shape, and her mother quickly gathered up her skirts and jogged forward to catch her, not sure yet what to expect. “Emma! Wait! Be careful!” she warned, though she already knew the caution would fall on deaf ears. Emma was fearless for her own safety, and had a soft spot for any person or thing injured or in need; she wouldn’t be stopping if she thought she could help.

Nearing the indeed soaked, disheveled, and unconscious child, Emma had already fallen to her knees, trying to shake and urge the unknown person back to awareness. The queen’s concern for her daughter’s safety instantly melted into compassion for the waif who didn’t move, didn’t speak, and barely seemed to breathe. For a child of his seeming height, he was frighteningly thin, his clothing threadbare and torn, hair too long, nearly hiding his closed eyes as soaked to his skin as it was. The Queen’s maternal heart ached for him, wondering how he came to be in such a state, alone and washed up from the sea. Taking Emma’s hand to stop her jostling him, Queen Snow could only hope they weren’t too late to save this mere boy’s life. It was only just beginning.

She looked up, wondering how they could get him back to the castle and trying to gauge how far they had traveled from the gates. Just as she was vaguely considering whether or not she could call one of the birds she was able to use as messengers - a gift that had served her often throughout life - when a tall shadow materialized from the woods bordering the shore, before she even needed to call out. Her long time bodyguard, Graham, Snow realized with easy relief; she should have known he would not be far, and regardless of the necessity - or lack thereof - in this moment she was glad he was there. This child needed help, and they needed to get him to a physician as soon as possible.

The Huntsman scooped the still-motionless boy up easily and began to carry him back the way they had come. Snow and Emma hovered on either side in anxious worry. As soon as they got him home to safety, they would bring him around. They had to. They had to have found him for a reason.

~~***~~

Once the unknown boy had been carried back to the castle, his slight form hardly causing the Huntsman to strain himself, bundled down before the warm hearthfire of the kitchens, boneless still, but changed from his wet rags into a old castoff tunic of the King’s (long enough to be a nightshirt on the lanky youth) and covered in numerous blankets, it took little time for the youth to come back to himself. 

Emma hovered anxiously next to the little stranger she had found, feeling oddly protective of “her boy” as she was already thinking of him in her head. She only paused in her agitated fidgeting to briefly take a cup of cocoa for herself and return the supportive hand squeeze offered her by their friend Red, Granny’s actual granddaughter and Emma’s frequent babysitter and playmate as well as her godmother.

Of course, Doc, the castle’s rather unofficial physician, had been sent for upon their return, but as the child before them began to stir of his own accord, Emma let herself hope that it would prove a mere precaution and their charge would be just fine. Heavy-lidded eyes blinked open slowly, as if still weary and reluctant to revive. When finally the thick, dark lashes parted to reveal rather stunning, unbelievably sea-blue eyes, Emma gasped at the shock that ran through her. Even as the boy’s widened in equal surprise and alarm, his eyes fixed on her gaze for several endless moments before darting around his surroundings, clearly unsure where he was or what had happened.

“Shh…. sh… hush now…” Emma felt her own tense muscles loosen as her mother’s voice calmly bathed the scene in gentle comfort. The Queen, soft and careful, and looking for all the world in that moment just like any other mother hoping to reassure her frightened child, stooped down to eye level with the boy they had propped up in a heaping nest of pillows and quilts by the fire. She reached out to softly brush his dark hair off his forehead, but froze when the boy flinched back like a startled animal. Instead, she only added in the same low, sweet croon. “You’re safe here. No one is going to hurt you… It’s alright now.”

The youngster’s eyes continued to cast about him for several tense moments, but then he seemed to finally register the calm surrounding him and accept that he would be alright. The tentatively crooked smile he offered back to the Queen sparked a bit of hope in all who were gathered around him. And when a steaming cup of cocoa was pressed into his hands by Granny with a brusque but concerned admonishment to “drink up, it’ll warm your insides” before the cook bustled off again, he seemed to come back to himself even more at the scent which wafted up into his face of chocolate and their family’s customary hint of cinnamon.

Emma could practically see interest light up those expressive eyes, but the child hesitated rather than bringing the cup to his lips for a taste. Darting from Queen to Princess uncertainly, he seemed to be gauging whether or not it was truly acceptable for him to take a drink.

“Go ahead,” Emma urged, smiling in what she hoped was reassurance. She wasn’t known for her patience, and she couldn’t know that this youth had never experienced hot cocoa, nor many pleasant treats at all, in his young life. Hoping to encourage him, she lifted her own mug to drink and then smacked her lips at the delightful taste, making Ruby laugh and her mother shake her head at her dreadful table manners. The boy’s face, however, lit with a bit of humor and happiness that it had not yet held. “It’s good, I promise,” Emma added with a grin. “You’ll like it.”

Almost as if he could resist no longer, the boy tipped his cup and took a sip of the warm, rich beverage at last. Then, it seemed he discovered the powers of liquid chocolate that everyone else in the room well knew. His eyes widened in delight, and he tipped his head back to get every last drop as he quickly guzzled down the rest, making Emma giggle, and him startle guiltily as if he’d done something wrong.

“Don’t worry,” Emma assured, reaching out innocently to lay her hand on his, “You can have some more, right Mama?”

Queen Snow White’s eyes were a bit misty with unshed tears, having already met Granny’s gaze over Emma’s head and Ruby’s as well, the three women piecing together things Emma in her sheltered, loving world could not yet know about what this youngster must have gone through. His reactions and his guardedness spoke volumes, even in silence. Nodding simply, not sure at first that she could speak around the painful lump in her throat, Snow finally managed to agree, “Yes, for tonight at least, our new friend may have all the hot cocoa his heart desires.”

~~***~~

The boy’s name, it turned out, was Killian Jones. He did recall that much once he regained his bearings, as well as the fact that he had possessed a father, mother, and older brother in a happy little house before his mother had seemingly vanished from his young life, and they had sent sail on the boat he had been on before washing ashore. No matter how many questions they asked or how he tried to call more forth, he remembered little else of what happened to his mother or father. He knew he had been told she fell ill and died, but all he could bring forth in his mind’s eye was that one morning he had awakened and she had vanished from his life as if she never existed at all - just a pleasant dream. His elder brother Liam had been on the boat with him, and Killian had shed tears that broke all their hearts when he recalled the day his brother had been swept overboard and lost to him forever. But as to what had become of his father, and how he had been sentenced to the life of hard labor he had clearly endured afterward, there was nothing but a blank and questions.

 As days and weeks, then months, and finally years went by, he remained with them at Misthaven castle.  Though far from a young prince, Killian was raised as a member of the royal household, growing up side-by-side with Princess Emma. They appeared to be quite close in age, and joined by the fact that she had found him and seemed to take Killian on as her own, he and Emma were quite inseparable - the best of friends and as “thick as thieves” as Granny always lamented when they were underfoot or stealing berries meant for tarts and pies on the royal dinner table.

As they reached adolescence, the King and Queen began to wonder where Kilian would be happiest as he came of age. The young man they had come to adore almost as a son had several skills: he was invaluable in the stables, exuding a calming force over the horses and evincing a knack for their training and care; he was quite good as an extra hand in the kitchen when Granny was understaffed or had more visiting mouths than usual to feed (for all her tough talk the aging widow had a soft spot for the boy and would no doubt have mentored him as a cook). Killian was bright; genuine knowledge and curiosity made him a voracious reader and student, honestly gaining more from the princess’ many esteemed tutors than Emma ever had and enjoying the study much more. He would have been easy to train as a page or diplomat, but none of those options seemed quite right.

It was not until his fifteenth birthday that the way Killian hoped to take became clear. It might have seemed improbable to most, knowing that the sea had once nearly swallowed him whole and claimed his life, but to Emma who knew him better than anyone else, it made sense. Those restless, wandering waves held an appeal, a mystery and adventure, and perhaps even still some bit of himself that her friend needed to claim. He stated his intention to join her father’s Navy with a proud certainty. And Emma’s heart swelled with equal gratification, but also fear. The sea had given him to her, but it wanted to take him back again…

It had taken them all such a long time to show Killian that he was welcome there, truly a part of their loving extended family. At first, Killian had shrunk back - shoulders hunched, head bowed, breath coming quickly in frightened pants - any time he might accidentally drop and break a dish or he reached for a second roll at the table, making it clear was that he had been punished and berated, to the point that he cowered like a whipped dog whenever he feared he might have put even a toe out of line. Princess Emma knew that her parents suspected beatings and physical abuse; it was clear in the concerned way their eyes met in silent communication whenever Killian reacted with the intense fear and apology he often showed in his bearing; she sadly had to agree that they were quite probably correct. She shuddered to think of how he might still be suffering under some cruel captain’s mistreatment, miserable, stranded and helpless to change his situation if it had not been for the shipwreck which brought him to Misthaven instead. There had been no question for any of them that he must stay, when they had learned of his indenture and how he had been orphaned and abandoned. She couldn’t have been more glad that all in the castle were in agreement; Emma had already decided that “her boy” needed to stay there with them, where he was safe and she could be sure he was happy and free. Neither of them were small children anymore, but Emma’s care and affection for him had never changed.

For so long before Killian’s arrival, she had been the only child in a palace of grown-ups: rulers, dignitaries, staff - a whole caravan of people who doted and adored, but very few who could be peers, to play with, talk to, and simply understand her. As the days had flowed into one another, turning into months and years until most people could hardly remember when she and Killian were not linked, they  were practically siblings in every way that mattered. The princess knew that she didn’t intend to live - not could she imagine - her life without him ever again.

And then, seemingly in the mere blink of an eye, they were fifteen and moving from playing tag amongst the grape arbors and lilac bushes in her mother’s gardens and slipping out of the interminable poise and etiquette lessons which Emma detested yet was never allowed to miss, to the stage where Killian was serving as her partner while she learned the waltz and other ballroom dances she would need to master for formal balls and ceremonies. Not only that, but as they edged into adolescence, Emma’s heart thumped against her chest differently than it used to as Killian led her gracefully through the steps. Even as her heart seemed ready to ricochet from her body, the warmth of Killian’s skin where they touched and the utter safety she felt in his hold half intoxicated her. As awareness spun her head round, uncertain what to do with it or how to proceed with these strange new feelings suddenly flooding her, all Emma could be certain of was the pang of loss she felt at knowing that Killian’s desire was to soon join her father’s naval fleet. At fifteen, he was at last of age to sail as a cabin boy and begin to work his way up in a ship’s ranks. Though she knew that had long been her friend’s desired course, Emma’s heart still ached to see him go.

However, her parents could not deny him the chance to seek such a worthy ambition. Indeed, they were proud of Killian, happy to help him secure a place on one of their finest vessels and make certain he knew their confidence in him and their faith that he would succeed. All too soon, after years with him at her side, it was the day Emma’s confidant and companion was set to sail on his first voyage. Though she knew in her head that the kingdom was in a time of peace and that it was a mere routine mission, her heart could not ignore the fact that sea travel always came with risk. Not only that, but she would miss Killian terribly.

Still, goodbyes had been said, all was made ready, and she was left on the dock, waving goodbye as the best friend she had ever known met her eyes and waved back. His pretty blue eyes, that had long since begun to speak to her as ardently as his actual words, expressed a potent blend of pained anxiety at leaving his adopted family and the life he had known and excitement for the adventure ahead on the waves that stirred his blood. She stood there long after the rest of the crowd seeing him off had dispersed and gone back to the castle, watching as the naval ship bearing “her boy” (as she sometimes still in the deepest and most secret depths  of her heart thought of him) became a small dot on the horizon before fading from view entirely. 

And only then had the journey truly begun...

Part One

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @searchingwardrobes​ @kmomof4​ @jennjenn615​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @laschatzi​

@jrob64 @apiratewhopines @grimmswan @ultraluckycatnd @caught-in-the-filter

@stahlop​ @ineffablecolors​ @let-it-raines​ @tiganasummertree​ @optomisticgirl​

@spartanguard​ @therooksshiningknight​ @shireness-says​ @snidgetsafan​ @mayquita​

@thislassishooked​ @drowned-dreamer​ @kday426​ @lfh1226-linda​ @winterbaby89​

@darkcolinodonorgasm​ @hollyethecurious​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @teamhook​ @revanmeetra87​

@the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @elizabeethan @gingerpolyglot @gingerchangeling

@xsajx @bluewildcatfanatic @anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv @xarandomdreamx

@jonesfandomfanatic @motherkatereloyshipper @myfearless-love @belovedcreation @goforlaunchcee

[fandonnavyce]

Danny Phantom Side Hoes Week 2024

March 7: Dani Phantom, self defense

Down by the Beach AO3 Link Danny Phantom x The Owl House

“That’s an amazing sandcastle.”

Collector whirled round, stunned to find that someone had managed to sneak up on him. It was a white haired girl who felt as human as much as she felt of death and power.

“Do you wanna play hide and go seek with me? I bet we’d have so much fun!” Collector blurted out starry eyed.

Fortunately, the white haired girl didn’t look fazed at all at the sudden fervent invitation.

“Yeah sure, you’re it!” she grinned widely. “Don’t forget to count to 100!” Then she zipped away, soaring into the air, her legs now a ghostly tail trailing behind her. The Collector blinked before giggling. He closed his eyes and started counting.

“98, 99, 100! Ready or not, here I come!” The Collector opened his eyes. Of course the beach was empty when Collector gave a quick scan of the immediate area. Then he levitated into the air to get that sweet bird’s eye view. He couldn’t find anything in the Electromagnetic Spectrum for miles around. He switched over to heat vision and then x-ray. But still nada.

“Oh, she is good!” the Collector praised as he soared through the sky on his flying starboard. 

“I FOUND YOU!”

“But now you gotta tag me”

…

“No fair, the ocean is so cold!”

“Oh you think this is cold? I’ll show you cold.”

…

“I call hacks!”

“What for?”

“Animating your sandcastle into a walking fortress is totally unfair.”

“I don’t want to hear that after you froze the ocean. With ME INSIDE IT!”

...

“Listen, you can hear the ocean's roar inside,” frog crouching down next to a tide pool, Dani cupped a beautiful exotic conch shell to her ear. Hovering cross-legged beside her, Collector mimed turning a hand crank; amplifying the echoing sound so that he could hear it too. 

“I’m gonna add this to my collection,” Dani declared whilst admiring the shell, it glimmered a fierce red and spooky silver.

“You have a Collection?” the Collector asked, eyes wide.

“Yeah, I‘ve got all kinds of cool rocks and souvenirs from all over the realms. Do you want to see it?”

“Yeah, totally, of course.”

“I mean it’s back at my place, but you can come over.”

“I can?” the Collector’s voice cracked.

“Obvsi,” Dani teased in a ‘duh’ voice, “we’re friends”

“AWESOME!” the Collector yelled giddily into the bright blue sky. This was the first time in his entire existence he had been invited over to a friend’s home. “Whatcha doin’?”

Dani was currently holding some kind of hand device. It looked really funny. It was slab with buttons and a screen.

“I’m calling for a portal pickup” Dani explained.

“With that?! But what is it?”

Dani blinked in surprise, “It’s a long distance communication device called a mobile phone.”

“What, like a crow phone?” Collector cocked his head in curiosity.

Dani squints, “Maybe?” she draws out, “what’s a crow phone?”

“It’s a long distance communication device but it’s shaped like crow”

Dani shrugs, “then probably”, she looks back at her phone. “Hmm a portal should appear any second now.”

Just as she said that, Collector felt his ears pop as reality suddenly burst, like a pin in a helium balloon. Suddenly, a green swirly portal formed in front of him.

“That’s actually really cool,” Collector admits.

“Yeah c’mon,” Dani led the way through the portal.

Collector eyes widened at the Palace of Death, Ice, and Celestial Beauty floating before him, imposing and haunting against a backdrop of abyssal Cosmic Space.

“You live here?! Are you a princess? Where’s your tiara?” Collector asked, rapid fire.

“I’m not wearing it, yes I am, yes I do.”

The Collector looked around, his head on a swivel. “This place is so cool!”

Dani looked over at the Collector’s star themed outfit, “Yeah I had feeling you might like it,” she smiled. She flew up to her bedroom’s window, up in her tower, with the Collector following behind her as they entered in.

Taking up one entire wall, were shelves of her collections and souvenirs from her travels across the realms and Dani gleefully showed it off.

BANG!

The door to Dani’s bedroom slammed open and Dan was standing there in all his asshole glory. Dan looked down with all his stupid height at the two little kids in the room who looked back up at him.

Dani glared up at her brother’s intrusion. W̴̡̛͍͚̳͊͌H̶̦͑A̸͎̩͇͂̓T̷̞̻͖̜͑̾̉͝?̶͚̩̍̆͊!̸̳̱̐̓ ̷̞͙̀ (leave-get-out-get-out) (anger- confusion-disdain) she silently scowled in ghost-speak.

BANG!

Gone, Dan slammed the door behind him. There was a moment of confusion and surprise. Then heard hollered throughout the Palace,

“DANI HAS A BOY IN HER BEDROOM!!!”

Dani’s face was aghast. The Collector’s was bewildered. They could hear the building thunder of a stampeding herd of wildebeests.

BANG!

“Oh look, Dani brought her first friend over,” cooed Jazz.

Danny firmly denied the sight in front of him. “No! No! You’re too young to be bringing boys over!”

“Oooh who gets to do the shovel talk?” Dan cackled.

“Sam” “Sam” “Me” Tucker, Jazz, and Sam said together.

“What about me?! I’m the Ghost King! I’m her Father!”

“Yeah,” Tucker acknowledges, “but Sam’s the scariest.”

“Excuse you, I’m right here,” Dan protested.

Sam rolled her eyes, “Yeah but you’re not gonna bother.”

“... nah you’re right,” Dan shrugged.

“No wait, hang on, I can too be scary. I can be very scary.”

“Danny, you have multiple times needed either Sam or I to correct your order when you receive the wrong one,” Jazz pointed out.

“OK!” Danny blustered. “This and that are two different things!”

“Sorry bro, just take the L. You’ve been outvoted.” Tucker rested a commiserating hand on Danny’s morose shoulder.

“Anyway” Jazz cheered, “it’s very nice to meet you…”

“The Collector” the boy introduced himself feeling shy all of sudden.

“It’s very nice to meet you, the Collector. Nevermind the noise, you’ll always be welcome here.”

“I’m glad to be here,” Collector sheepishly replied.

“ALRIGHT,” Dani started yelling, “OUT, OUT”, she shouted as she pushed her family out of her bedroom. “I’m so sorry,” Dani apologised to the bemused-looking Collector, “my family is so embarrassing,”

“You better keep the door open!”

“DANNY!”

@lexosaurus

[yanderefarm]

Putting in my name suggestions

Prisoner: Foxglove, Anthrax, Umbra, Trix, Hollow, Yarnum

Merman: Angelo (like Angler lol), Tide, Sturgeon, Petrel, Kelp, Ray, Lethe

Butler: Sheperd, Augustus, Quinn, Lucius, Vilhelm

Nurse: Amaranthus/Amaranth, Dove, Lark, Amor, Vida

Experiment: Key, Sharps, Lockbox, Porcelain, Chain, Blackout, Blackbox, Shard

-🎠 Anon

anthrax is such a fun name omg I act really like that

i was thinking about angelo too but i actually have an entirely different ocean related blue haired golden eyed oc named angelo so rhrnfbdbfj

lethe is kinda cute tho

vilhelm is a very good butler name but i feel like a guy named vilhelm is a lot buffer and has a beard

i like amaranth thats cute

blackout and shard are really good too ..... or what about Doll?

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Breaking Ajax out of prison. *waves* Hi Wifi! Sending this brainrot in. Enjoy the vacation!

***

You are Wriothsley's well-traveled sister. You've been away from Fontaine for a while, growing your business in Liyue and Inazuma. You walked with a purpose, towards your brother's office in Meropide. Except, you know he wasn't there. He had taken the day off and you were one step closer to being a criminal. You were disgusted at the verdict of the justice machine installed at the Opera Epiclese. You received a letter from one of his agents and your friend, Violet, as you so casually called the Electro Cicin Mage. You rushed back home when you found out that Childe was behind bars.

How dare the nation of justice snatch away the only person who convinced you to live? You met Ajax during a dark period of your life. You had challenged the Oceanid in Liyue, with no intention of fighting back. It was a bit poetic how you wanted to lose your life to water, after leaving the nation of hydro. Ajax watched the battle unfurl from the edge of the mountain, only to notice that you weren't moving at all. You fell to your knees, eyes shut and waiting for the rushing tide that never came. When you opened your eyes, blue eyes peered at you with concern and curiosity. Electro buzzed in the air, only to dissipate with a flick of his hand, as he switched off his Delusion.

Now, it was your turn to save him. You only hoped that your brother's stories were accurate. Your brother has been trying ro recruit you for years, saying that your skill would be very useful in bringing in criminals. Little did he know that you would use the skill that he praised you for, not to bring in criminals but to break out one. Hall after hall, you walked, using the vapor in the air to conceal yourself. Ajax is a Harbinger. They would have kept him in the cells with more security. You just needed a distraction. Thankfully, Violet and her fellow agents, are there to cause a ruckus. You've reached the deepest part of the prison. Your eyes searched for dark, ginger hair - passing by a couple of cells before hearing a muffled groan. You followed the sound, dropping your cover and came face to face with eyes as blue as the depths of Fontaine. Ajax stares at you with alarm and parted lips. Placing your index finger on your lips, you requested his silence. You shut your eyes, concentrating as you became one with the water. Your body separated into tiny bubbles that passed through the small opening of the cell. Your flesh coalesced back into one piece. Ajax' arms found your waist, face pressed against your neck. He had gone too long without you. Your scent brought him comfort.

"Jax," you whispered. "Priorities." You pushed something cold into his hand.

"Oh. My vision," he smiled softly.

"Archons, please do not leave your vision behind. I almost had a heart attack when I saw that it was dull." You bit your lip, turning away. "I thought you.."

Lips pressed against your nape softly before settling on the back of your head. "Sorry. Never again."

A sigh escaped your mouth. You could never stay mad at him. Not when he had to endure being imprisoned. You eyed the inside of the cell.

"But love, now that you're here. What's the plan? When are you visiting again?"

You turn to Ajax with a winning smile, one that you often saw on his face instead of yours.

"I'm not visiting. We're getting out."

You explained how Fatui agents were ready to serve as distractions in different parts of the city. There were mekas prepared to go berserk and run loose. Fontaine is organized, they will subdue the threats quickly. You just needed enough time to get Ajax out.

"How are we getting out? My blades are sharp and ready. Or I could transform." He paused. "I just...i actually just didn't want to transform because of your brother. Didn't want to leave a bad impression."

Your hands found his cheek, stroking softly. He leaned into your hand.

"You've held out long enough. This time, I'm the one saving you. We're leaving without a trace."

His eyes widened slightly.

"I have been practicing a lot. I can do it now for extended periods of time. I can maintain the unseen form for more than one person."

Ajax titled his head to the left, giving your hand on his cheek a soft peck.

"Whatever happens, I'm proud of you. Thank you."

Before you could respond, there was a series of explosions. Shouting followed, then footsteps as guards ran towards the entrance of Meropide.

"Hold my hand. Don't let go."

Ajax stepped closer to you, slotting you against his body as he hugged you right.

"Well, that's also a way of holding me."

Ajax chucked, as he placed his chin on top of your head. Your locked your arms around him. Shut your eyes and both of your bodies dissolved into bubbles. This time, you needed something more advanced than bubbles, you needed to be vapor. Unnoticed and unseen. As vapor, you passed through the high security cells now devoid of guards. You passed through the halls. The strain of the concentration wore you down. But Ajax kept you going. Finally, you passed through the reception and the entrance. You were at the edge of Opera Epiclese but you kept the form for a little while longer. Your forms plunged into the water, now zooming towards Elynas. You online relinquished your hold and control once you've reached the shore. Your forms coalesced back into human bodies.

Ajax' arms were still around you when you fell to the ground in exhaustion. Your breaths came hard and your mind burned in pain. Worry etched over Ajax' face. He needed to take care of you now.

You opened your eyes after a deep sleep. A single crystalline eye peered at you. Happy chirps followed as Legacy nuzzled you.

"Legacy?"

Understanding the question in your voice, Legacy gingerly took a note from the desk and pushed it into your hand.

Childe's wrote: Legacy's face is not recognizable.

You were in an old house that seemed to have been abandoned. The bedsheets seemed cleaned enough. The floors look like they have been mopped recently. In the corner of the room, you spotted a mop with it's handle broken. Legacy must have tried to clean up. You smiled at the thought.

Breaking Ajax out of prison took more effort than you thought. But pushing yourself to the limit proved that you could do it. Your skill was useful after all. Legacy nudged your hand, asking for pets. You scratched behind his horn, earning a rumbling purr. You nuzzled into his side, while petting him. Although on the run and officially a criminal, you felt safest with Ajax and Legacy. You would break the law over and over again if it means keeping them safe.

MACCHIATOOOOO I MISSED YOUUU ;v;;;; AND THIS IS SUCH A MEAL I AM EATING THIS UP

you have to rest for a couple more days after you wake up- pushing yourself so much completely sapped your energy. Legacy does his best to care for you, fetching fruit and flowers from outside while you're confined to bed (the flowers are to cheer you up, because he knows you love them so) and nudging your shoulder with his head to get you to lay down. he desperately wants to make sure that you don't exhaust yourself more, and he WILL lay on top of you to make sure you don't move- carefully, of course! his head nestles in the soft skin of your stomach, brilliant sapphire eye looking at you stubbornly as he lets out a light huff, having found you trying and failing to stand for the third time that day. and once you begin to recover, he helps you walk, gently holding your hands with his claws or even carrying you in his arms to go sit outside for some fresh air, the cool ocean breeze washing over you

there haven't been too many mekas looking for you and Ajax- if you were being honest, you suspect Wriothesley being your brother had something to do with it- and the few that did come after you were swiftly dealt with by a protective Foul Legacy, eagerly bumping his forehead against yours afterwards for pets. he hasn't seen you in so long, after all, always shut away in Ajax's mind even when they were both thrown into prison. he tried to tell the Harbinger that he could help, he could get them out of there, but Ajax always refused! Foul Legacy was so lonely; it was like drowning in a cold, starless sea, bringing back memories he'd rather forget. so he clings to you now, craving the sensation of your gentle hands running through his hair, soft and fragile after being surrounded by the cold metal of the prison. sometimes he finds his thoughts drifting back to icy water and chains and bars and the crushing pressure of the sea, and he curls around you with a whimper, wanting to be held until he drifts off to sleep, comforted by your presence

when you're asleep and he knows no one else is around, Ajax takes over for a few minutes, pulling you close to his chest and murmuring that he missed you so, so much, speaking for both him and Foul Legacy

[do-i-look-like-a-doctor]

Gojo headcanons bc ive got too much time on my hands

bro ate chalk as a kid and ive got proof

look at his kid self for a sec, he’s got a grown out buzzcut and the blue eyed stare. thats a chalk eater

you can’t convince me he’s a good swimmer

he’s lanky and tall, bro gets swept away the min he is near the ocean. he’s built to be shark food, sorry luv

the cloth he wears to cover his eyes is raggedy as hell

let me explain. he wears it constantly both in and out of battle, he wears it in any weather, and let’s be real he’s so odd that he probs sleeps in it sometimes

this leads me to believe that even tho he almost never gets hurt during a fight the blood and grime gets all up in the cloth

no amount of Tide or even acid could get rid of the STENCH that mask holds

it smells like ten cans of bounce that ass. one whiff could, quite literally, kill an old man

he’s a chronic podcast listener

tried to become one of those skater kids, failed miserably. geto never let him live it down

i think he’d make a great partner but if you listen to Hozier he will cause a scene

basically what im saying is he’s jealous of Hozier

Gojo knows that no matter how strong he is he will NEVER compare to that man’s vocals/lyrics and what they do to you

que Gojo trying to sing your fav Hozier song(s) but he can’t match the pitch which sends you into cardiac arrest

other than that he’s a pretty good singer, could probs serenade you to sleep

you know how everyone has an irrational fear? yuh his is birds

you ever see him interact with one in a normal way?

you see a bird, he sees a sack of organs with hollow bones that sore through the sky and sometimes they can talk

he pisses his pants when he sees a macaw

he’s a rich bitch and it’s a problem. not cuz he’s an ass abt it but bc he spoils the hell out of the teens

we know he would buy Megumi anything in the world but Yuuji and Nobara get the same treatment

he saw Yuuji’s orphaned ass and immediately transferred HUNDREDS to Yuuji’s bank acc

ain’t no student of his gonna be broke, that’s for sure

probs carries around pics of Megumi from when the teen was a kid

some are cute such as Megumi at the beach or having a fun at the zoo. others are of Megumi fighting for his life

i feel that when Yuuji entered the equation he also started taking pics of him during cute, fun, or important moments

very much sentimental older brother energy

whenever Gojo gets sick or injured he either becomes a massive baby or denies it until he’s dead

depends on the problem tbh. if he’s got a head cold he needs to be hospitalized but if he got his legs cut off he’d ignore it for weeks

you know how most men’s body wash or shampoo is named in, what’s considered, “masculine scents”

like redwood, campfire smoke, whiskey, fucking piss water

yuh he’s not a fan

i don’t think he’d really like those scents. in his mind, why does smelling like burnt coal or salt = masculine?

he probs just grabs whatever he likes, maybe orange scented stuff or even subtle vanilla

whatever cologne he wears tho is fucking delicious. you smell it and immediately your knees give out

i think if you gave him a huff of old spice tho he’d just disintegrate

im thinking of his general hygiene now, he has a solid routine

it’s not a million steps, probs just good quality face wash, serums, and moisturizer

that being said he suffered horrific back acne as a kid. dont ask how I know this, i will eat you alive

he looks and acts flawless but we know the truth. he sucks at card games

Yuuji’s biggest flex is he beat Gojo at go-fish 28 times in a row

he says calabunga and not a single person can stand it

that’s it for now, i’ll probs add more headcanons later

thanks for coming to my ted talk, i hope this post finds you before Sukuna does

(this is all mildly unedited, soz for mistakes)

[asnowfern]

Losing My (Gear)Head For You

Summary: With an icy glare at the cocky smirk gracing the male’s face, she rotates on her heels to stalk back to her car, acutely aware of the hushed whispers that follow her.

Racing is a mind game and her opponent just played his first move.

It’s her turn now. ~~~ OR a rival street racer Nessian AU

Rating: M, for Nessian being Nessian😏 WC: 2.6k Listen to Mona Lisa, Mona Lisa by FINNEAS for the vibes✨ Read on AO3

Happy Birthday my darling @witch-and-her-witcher!!! 🎉 🎁 Thank you for being such an amazing and supportive friend! I just want to say I feel so blessed to have you in my life and I appreciate you so much💜 I hope you have the loveliest day ahead (as you deserve)! Please enjoy this little silly, fun AU!

Huge thanks to the always awesome @wilde-knight for the quick beta-read💕

Read under the cut!

The silver car door swings open and the chatters de-crescendos into murmured whispers. The faint scent of car exhaust permeates the cool mountainous air and Nesta has to resist the urge to scrunch up her nose in disdain. Even in the many years she has participated in the battles, she has never truly adapted to the smell. 

She ignores the wide eyed looks though a part of her sniffs in disapproval.  

The crowd, the noise, the girls. They are too much for an underground street race like this. Far too likely to gather unwanted attention from the local authorities. Yet, she knows the reason for the enchanted audience today. 

She gives the organiser a curt nod. Azriel’s lips curls slightly, “Welcome back, Nesta.” 

“Some welcome,” she sighs, jerking her head at the whispering enthusiasts at the side of the curb, “these idiots are going to get us caught.” 

“It’s all taken care of.” He says dismissively. His eyes spark in amusement as he looks over her shoulders. “Your competitor on the other hand.” 

Nesta doesn’t have to turn. The hulking presence eclipsing her in its shadow and the sudden increase in excited high pitch whispers speak for themselves. She bites back a sigh. 

“Lady D,” he greets as his shoulder brushes against hers with the lightest pressure, his voice dripping in a cocky swagger. 

The spot where clothed muscles made contact warms uncomfortably and Nesta clenches her jaws in annoyance. She twists around to return coolly, “Cassian.” 

Cassian, otherwise known as the Lord of Bloodshed for his uncanny ability to mercilessly cut his way through any race course, however perilous, grins widely. The top half of his hair is tied back in a bun, framing the strong cut of his jawline. Hazel pupils gleam bright as a feline predator. They pull blue grey eyes upwards to meet them, like a rising tide gravitating to the moon. Nesta notes the new thin scar that cuts through his left eyebrow and banishes the urge to trace it with her fingers. 

“It’s been a while.” He says lightly.

She angles her head in acknowledgment. “I’ve been away for work but I’m back now.”

He hums noncommittally and for a moment, a look Nesta can’t quite identify flashes across his face. Almost soft, tender? It is gone in the next, replaced with a familiar casual lopsided smile. He sticks out a broad hand. “Good race?”

Nesta slips her hand into the grip. His skin is surprisingly soft despite the rough calluses that litter the top of his palms. “May the best racer win.” 

Before she is able to release her hand, her opponent yanks her hand inwards, pulling her weight into a hard and massive chest with a soft thud. A few paces away, the cloud of murmurs dissipate. Hot breath tickles the shell of her ear, “May the best racer win.” 

Heat rushes to her face and Nesta drops the hand like hot coal, scowling as she draws herself back, her spine straight and rigid. With an icy glare at the cocky smirk gracing the male’s face, she rotates on her heels to stalk back to her car, acutely aware of the hushed whispers that follow her. 

Racing is a mind game and her opponent just played his first move.

It’s her turn now. 

***

Nesta’s S2K purrs, coming to life with a single rotation of her car keys. A single ignition that lights up both engines: the vehicle and her.

She follows the hand signs of the marshal and pulls up side by side with the bright red WRX. She runs her palms down the circumference of the wheel, her lips flicking upwards. Her eyes remain trained on the raised hands, her feet a light touch on the pedals.

Every fibre of her being is set alight, exhilaration coursing through her veins. 

The unpleasant scent of car exhaust, the noisy chattering fangirls, the annoying smirk and touch memory of hard muscles against her chest fades. There is just her, the rumbling engine under her hands, the car she is racing and the careening turns of the mountain pass. 

This is why Nesta loves to race: Why she continues to do so even though she no longer needs the cash that saw her through her university days. There is nothing quite like the thrill of the race. 

Flag down and Nesta slams her foot into the accelerator. Her car speeds ahead. Next to her, Cassian’s more powerful WRX takes the lead and cuts her in her path with a loud and flashy bang of its exhaust. 

No matter. This is Ramiel. It’s the skills of cornering that determines the winner. 

Nesta frowns slightly at the slight resistance of her wheel as she begins the downhill course, almost veering her to the left. A muscle ticks at her jaw. Her perfectly tuned vehicle is out of balance. 

How is that even possible? 

Yet, with the upcoming turns, she has no time to ponder. Only to adjust and adapt. 

Just ahead, the brakes of Cassian screech at the braking point. The tilt angle of his car and the slide down the racing line at neck breaking speed tells Nesta that it is a perfect drift. Echoes of a cocksure smirk flits through her head. 

With little time to spare, Nesta slams her foot into the brake pedal, her arms spinning wildly with her wheel as she sends the car into full throttle.

She made the turn. With a slight delay in the steering that caused her precious seconds. But she made it. 

It proceeds in that manner for the next few kilometers. Nesta grits her teeth to maintain control of her vehicle as her opponent flawlessly executes each corner. 

But what lies ahead is the five hairpin curves. A section of the pass that Nesta always excelled at and her chance to bridge the gap in distance. Her hand grips tightly at the wheel and the gear stick. 

She barely squeezes between the left corner and the red car but once she is on the inside, a perfect cornering would set her in the lead. 

In that moment, Nesta feels her car jerk to the right in pure defiance of her steering. Helpless against the centrifugal force of the sharp turn, her beloved S2K rams into the WRX and bumps him off the road, smashing into the railing. She hears the scream of metal against metal in what is sure to be a bad dent. 

She swears and swerves her car slightly to the left, leaving just enough space for a car to get through. Cassian overtakes her and speeds off. 

“Fuck!” She slams her hands on the wheel. 

***

The hushed whispers fill and corrupt the serenity of the naturesque air. Nesta tunes them out, her attention wholly set on the bright red motor vehicle in front of her. She represses a wince at the large and long scratch that slashes across the car body and the dent in its back fender.

Humiliation burns in her chest.

It is one thing to lose a race but to have rammed into her opponent’s path like a fledgling novice? She bites the inside of her cheek. 

Cassian’s face is stoic though the muscle at his jaw feathers. Yet, when he turns those hazel eyes on her, there is no anger, only concern. “Lady D?”  

Nesta forces the lump down, swallowing thickly. “I’ll pay for the damages.” She pulls out a pen from the pocket of her jacket and scribbles her contact details on a stray piece of receipt. She lifts the heavy hand and closes thick fingers over the paper. “Just send me the bill.” 

Without giving the male racer another chance at speaking, Nesta quickly slides into her car and takes off.

Once the crowd disappears into nothing more than faded dots in her rear view mirror, she exhales heavily. She thumbs the leathered surface of the wheel, brows creasing as she once more feels the resistivity of her beloved vehicle. Impulsively, she turns into a viewing spot at the side of the road, turns off her headlights and gets out. 

She leans back, her back and ass warmed by the heated hood of her car. She tilts her head back at the vast blanket of twinkling stars. 

She will naturally need to get her car looked at. The tuning works and added costs of repairing the Lord of Bloodshed’s vehicle would mean eating scraps for the next few weeks. The thought of it has her heaving another sigh, her eyes falling shut. 

“It’s not exactly safe for a lady to be sitting here by herself.” 

Her brows furrow once more at the familiar low drawl. She asks with her eyes still closed, lacking the energy to add much bite into it, “What do you want, Cassian? I already told you I’ll pay for the damages.” 

The hood of her car dips with the weight of the other man. Her skin buzzes from the heat emanating from him, “I’m not here about the money.” 

She snaps her eyes open, “Then why are you here?” 

She spins her head towards him and is immediately struck by how close he is. Close enough for Nesta to pick out the flecks of green and gold in his eyes, to breathe in the spicy and woody scent of his cologne. It is a heady feeling that goes straight to her core and sends blood rushing to her ears. 

His eyes darted downwards to her lips for a split second, his lips parting. Then a focus overtakes his face and he pulls himself back just a couple of inches, a more respectable distance, and asks seriously, “What happened, Nesta?” 

She frowns. “What do you mean?”

“You are a better driver than that. A few months wouldn’t change that. I saw you in the turns before the hairpin too.” He searches her face, “It’s the steering, isn’t it?”

The heat leaves the tips of her ears to travel to her chest, scorching it with a familiar burn. She snaps, “Mind your own business.” 

Careful hazel eyes study her for a moment before he abruptly stands and turns away, whipping out the phone from his back pocket. 

“Hey Az, could you come get my car and drop it off at the workshop for me?”

Surprised, Nesta lifts her head and props herself on her elbows, keeping her eyes trained on the back of the racer. 

“Yep, yep. Just over the peak viewing spot.”

More grunts and a gruffed laugh before he hangs up, “Thanks, bro. I owe you one.” 

She greets him with a raised brow when he turns back to her, slipping his phone back into his pocket. 

“Alright, light her up.” 

She blinks, a little too owlish for her liking. “Excuse me?” 

He rubs his hand fondly over the side of her S2K’s windshield, his next words seem like they are intended more for her car than her. “Let’s find out what’s wrong with her, shall we?”

Yeahh, the way he keeps his gaze focused on the car, running his hand up and down lovingly, almost cooing, “Yeah, we’ll fix her right up.” 

Unable to keep down the laughter that is bubbling up her chest, it escapes her in a half stifled mix of a snort and a giggle. It draws Cassian’s attention. His eyes are round when he glances up at her, touched with surprise and awe. 

“What?” She asks sarcastically, “Should I give you two some room?”

The tender look disappears and his face splits into a white grin. His reply comes out in a low purr, “Oh, sweetheart. Don’t you know there’s always room for three?” 

She chucks the keys in his face. 

***

There is something strange about being seated in the passenger seat of her own car. To not feel the purring vibration under the soles of her feet but to instead see the steering wheel handled by large veiny hands instead of her own slender ones. Yet, with Cassian at the wheel of her beloved silver, there is also nothing more natural.

His expression sharpens as they approach their first corner, anticipation visibly lighting him up, the muscles of his forearms flex delicious lines. 

Brake. Clutch. Throttle. Clutch. Throttle.

It would have been a perfect racing line, a precise balance of speed and distance. An unfairly perfect execution for a driver used to the power boom of the WRX. Instead of the smooth drift, the car jerks and shakes its passengers. 

Cassian’s brows crease and says after they made the turn. “Your car is out of balance.” 

“I could’ve told you that.” She returns drily. 

The edges of his mouth curve upward, “Touché.”

They drive back to Windhaven in relative silence, turning into a garage a short distance into the quiet city. The car halts next to an obnoxiously familiar red WRX.

Nesta waits expectantly only to realise Cassian remains still and silent. She scrunches her nose, “You can return the car to me now.” 

He turns the key in the ignition to shut down the engine and flashes her grin, “I’m fixing your car.” 

She resists the urge to drop her jaw. “Excuse me?” 

He shrugs. “You need your car re-tuned. I have a workshop and skilled mechanics to do it. Sounds like a win-win situation to me.” 

Nesta frowns. No, it doesn’t. It doesn’t even remotely make sense. 

She states flatly, “You’re my rival.” 

“I’m not about to sabotage your car.” He says exasperatedly with raised arms, her keys glinting in the artificial white fluorescent light of the building. “I’ll take good care of her. Or is it a him?”

She stares at him, silver blue eyes meeting hazel in narrowed skepticism. At last, she accepts with a sigh, “He is called Bryaxis.” Her lips curl into a small smile, “Take good care of him.”

***

Cassian slides up the length of her body and kisses her deeply, the weight of his body against hers is a delicious pressure she suspects she will never tire of. She wraps her legs around his waist to tug him closer.

The thick hard length of his arousal strains against the confines of his pants and rubs against her core, still sensitive from her recent climax. She digs her heels hard into his clothed buttocks, ruining his pants with the smudge of her release. 

“Nesta,” he pants, breaking the kiss. Stray inky black curls that escaped his bun fall to her face, caressing her skin with the lightest tickle. He stares down at her, pupils swallowing hazel, reminiscent of a solar eclipse. 

Nesta lifts the edges of her mouth into a sinful smile and tuts, “Not until you win this round.” 

For a stretched beat, Cassian is completely still, save for a twitch from his aching erection, begging to be released from its fabric prison. She raises one arched eyebrow as she dips her hand to teasingly palm and stroke the hard length. 

Admit defeat. Silver blue eyes order with a sparkle. 

He growls but uses his arms to push himself off the backseat. His voice is rough and gravelly as he promises darkly, “I am going to get back at you for this.” 

The words curl deep within her belly, inciting a heated flame. It burns low and steady as they each settle into their respective driver’s seat. 

The engine of her S2K roars to life and settles into a low rumble. Nesta smiles. Her world narrows to the careening turns of the mountain pass, the quiet, empty roads, the loud red car next to her with her equally loud driver, the feel of the low purring beneath her fingertips and the taste of her release on her tongue. 

Cassian’s baritone voice reaches her through her ear piece, “Three.”

The air rings with twin sounds of motor revving. She continues, “Two,”  

Then, in unison. “One.” 

End

A/N: My research for this fic was limited to my car loving husband who gave me car suggestions for Cassian (powerful and flashy Subaru WRX) and Nesta (slightly less vroom-vroom but requires better control Honda S2000), and watching clips of Initial D and basic racing techniques for dummies on YT. Please close one eye(or both) on any inaccuracies/misrepresentation!

[greenbergwrites]

I am on my KNEES begging for another part to the feral omega steve and etienne prompt!!! it's so GOOD and I cannot stop thinking about it 😩 (please take this as inspiration and not pushing, I understand the creative juices are difficult to control ❤️)

I was very excited about feral Omegas yesterday, both this story and the original one, and had a whole bunch of ideas that I wanted to get started on today.

Unfortunately, my sleep aid is being wonky so I didn't get a good, deep sleep last night and my brain was rather hazy today. I did manage to cobble together what's below, even though it's not quite as many words as yesterday.

Hope you enjoy it, though!

Part One | Part Two

--

Bucky doesn’t want to think about what happens when the local Alphas arrive and so he doesn’t. There’s not much to be gained from dwelling on it, anyways.

Instead, he focuses on the Omegas.

He coaxes the feral Omega onto the gurney beside his blue-eyed companion. They cling to each other, their hands entwined, as he finds each of them a blanket to shield them from the cool weather. Once they’re bundled, he manages to scrounge up a couple of chocolate protein bars. He isn’t sure if they were left behind by the medical personnel or if it was something on hand to feed the other humans found in the warehouse. 

He supposes it doesn’t matter. 

Methodically, he unwraps two of them and hands one to each Omega. Pulling up a chair next to the gurney, he watches them both take hesitant bites. The feral Omega doesn’t seem to care much about the taste, but the blue-eyed one makes a face.

Bucky laughs softly.

“I know,” he murmurs, rubbing the boy’s arm through his blanket. “We’ll get you proper food soon. This is just to tide you over. Do you want some water? It helps.”

He takes a bottle from the table, unscrewing the cap and holding it out. The Omega doesn’t take the bottle from him; instead, he puts his lips around it, allowing Bucky to tip the water into his mouth.

The feral Omega pauses in decimating his protein bar, scowling at Bucky until he’s given the same treatment. After draining half the bottle, he goes back to his food.

Watching them settles something in Bucky’s chest. For the first time since he saw them, he doesn’t feel quite so suffocated. They’re warm in blankets he found, their hurts tended to at least partially by his hand, now eating the food that he’s provided. He’s taken care of them and because he did, they’ve calmed considerably.

That knowledge is a living thing under his skin, filling him with a primal sense of pride and satisfaction. This is what he was born for–what every Alpha was born for. To take care of an Omega.

He touches the blue-eyed Omega again, tilting his chin gently until the boy meets his gaze.

“Do you think you can tell me your names?” He asks softly. 

The feral one has been more vocal, technically, but for all his hissing and growling, he’s yet to speak an actual word. He might not be in a state of mind where words are possible, as unsavory as that thought is.

The blue-eyed Omega glances at his companion, who shrugs as he eats the last of his protein bar. It’s the most human gesture Bucky’s seen him display so far.

The Omega sets aside the remnants of his protein bar. He takes Bucky’s hand in his and turns it over, tracing his finger along Bucky’s palm.

Letters. He’s drawing letters.

S - T - E - V - E

“Steve,” Bucky says, once the Omega pauses and looks up at him. The boy nods and taps his own throat. 

His name is Steve.

He looks down and draws again.

E - T - I - E - N - N - E

“Etienne,” Bucky repeats, just to make sure he has it right.

Steve nods and points to the feral Omega.

Steve and Etienne.

Bucky smiles, touching Steve’s cheek.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

Steve smiles shyly, nudging his fingers.

“Is there something wrong with your throat, Steve?” Bucky asks. “Did they do something to you?”

He shakes his head.

“You can talk?” Yes.

“You just don’t want to?” No.

Steve frowns, looking down at where his fingers still rest on Bucky’s palm. His lips part, breath hitching, but whatever he wants to convey seems too complicated a concept. He shakes his head again, his shoulders slumping. His scent isn’t sour, but it also isn’t as calm as it was a minute before.

Etienne snatches up his discarded protein bar, shoving it into Steve’s hands as he glares balefully at Bucky.

Bucky’s lips quirk. He doesn’t say anything as Etienne successfully distracts Steve from whatever is going through his head. As Steve starts to eat again, Etienne knocks their foreheads together. Steve’s answer is a small smile.

Once his scent has evened out again, Etienne turns his hard gaze back to Bucky.

Don’t do that again, he seems to say.

Bucky pats Etienne’s cheek.

“Don’t worry, pup,” he says softly. “I don’t want to upset him, either.”

Etienne harrumphs, turning his head to bite the meat of Bucky’s palm. He doesn’t sink his teeth in deep enough to break skin. If anything, he gnaws almost gently. 

It isn’t quite a playful gesture, though–-more like an acquiescence and a warning rolled into one. 

On the other side of the tent, a phone pings. Suddenly, Bucky’s reminded that they aren’t alone. The Enforcer is still there, though he’s given them space so that both Omegas can feel comfortable.

He turns just in time to see the Enforcer look up from his phone.

“The Alphas are here.”