#the lodge at sea island

[sakti3940]

Luxury Resort in Saint Simons Island

[jonkwasnyczka]

Jagdschloss Granitz, Insel Rügen

[frothytundra]

Across the Strait of Georgia

Across the Strait of Georgia

When you visit the Surf Lodge Pub on Gabriola Island, you will be amazed by the massive size and beauty of the wooden joists and beams that support the roof above you. When you leave the Surf Lodge Pub on Gabriola Island, you will be in awe of the view of the Strait of Georgia that greets you. In the distance are pastel suggestions of the mainland, and in between there and you is the deceptively…

[merakiui]

while in captivity, floyd encounters a human and unintentionally pair-bonds with you during a moment of biological vulnerability.

(cw: gender neutral reader, nsfw, omegaverse/abo, heats, captivity)

The marine lab has recently acquired a unique specimen—unique in that he is half-human and half-fish, hailing from deep, dark, indescribable depths. An eel merman, to be exact. You’ve only ever glimpsed merfolk in outdated textbooks and fairytales, the latter of which depicted them as whimsical beings capable of feats beyond scientific understanding. Magic. Although in the realm of biology, such folly is never entertained and so what the world calls ‘magic’ other fields built upon the foundations of research refer to it as a ‘miracle’. In your eyes those words are interchangeable, but then the idea of a miracle is far easier to digest than the concept of magic.

Merfolk have always been elusive, covert creatures, hence why there is hardly any conclusive data on them. In fact, they’re so secretive that they were believed to be mostly extinct—a figment of dreams and hallucinations. Most of what humans know stems from the tattered notes of long-gone sailors, their presences nearly lost to time itself, and for a while all anyone ever knew were four key details:

They are spread throughout the sea, living out their lives in frigid fathoms. 

They are hypnotic and deceptive. 

They are predatory. 

They rarely interact with humankind unless absolutely necessary (e.g. to hunt or observe).

But with plenty of promising technological advances, some of the theories and myths surrounding merfolk have been bolstered or disproved, respectively. Merfolk are just as diverse as the rest of the animal kingdom. Some live in solitude. Others thrive in groups. Some make their home out of caves and grottos. Some dwell within the labyrinths of volcanic rock formations. It is every marine biologist’s dream to come face to face with one of these mysterious creatures, if only for just a few minutes to glean more information.

That dream is made reality today.

The eel mer was discovered off the coast of a tiny island, entangled in fishing lines and plastic litter. His large, winding body, snake-like in its sleek build, was littered with scars and scrapes. There was a hook lodged up in the folds of his gills. Despite his thrashing, his tail swishing wildly in the sand and nearly knocking down three researchers like they were bowling pins, he was wheezing and gasping, drained of energy and air. When the first bucket of seawater came down upon his dry gills, he settled briefly, wide, crazed, mismatched eyes flicking from face to face. Likely assessing the situation or counting the amount of bodies, the report claimed.

He fell still after that, and it took two teams of ten people to load him onto the lift so he could be flown to the lab.

After he spent a week in recovery, where he healed surprisingly fast, he was transferred to a much larger and wider tank, its depths far deeper than the average swimming pool. He doesn’t swim to the surface much, and he only ever pokes his head out at night, scanning his surroundings with intelligent, keen eyes. And then he turns and disappears below. It’s a pattern he’s stuck to for weeks now. No one really understands it, and they haven’t had the opportunity to try. He’s uncooperative and unpredictable. It’s much too dangerous to send a diver down there.

So they transfer you to his enclosure, assuming you might have more luck. You’re not sure and you can’t make any promises of potential success, as you’ve only ever interacted with marine mammals. A merman is…different. Not only because he’s half-man and, by that same logic, likely possesses a human brain that is capable of a higher level of thought, albeit one that is wired to suit his mer biology, but because he’s bigger. A lot bigger.

He could kill you.

You saw the documentation. The serrated teeth, the powerful claws, the dangerous jaw, the bulky, muscular build that cuts through water like a bullet. He is a predator in every sense of the word, and you’re supposed to look after him. Coax him to the surface. Get him to trust humans. Interact with him just inches from the edge of his tank and hope that he doesn’t get hungry or violent.

He might kill you.

But there are safety measures put in place for these things. Ethics to be followed and whatnot. It’s a slippery slope because he’s part human and therefore could possibly have the same level of intelligence humans have, in which case it would be wrong to trap him here. There may be ways to skirt around it with other animals, but he’s not like other animals.

For now, he’s kept here under the pretense of recovery and scientific study. The lab treats him like the big fish he is, going so far as to buy a shark suit in your size and instruct you to wear it even though you’re not going to get in the water. “It should prevent him from biting through,” they had said, “but it won’t lessen the force of his bite.”

“What good will that do? I can’t fight him off.” Though you knew it had nothing to do with anything, you added, “I’m an omega. Merfolk might not have the same sub-genders as we do up on the surface—or maybe they do; I don’t know—but if he were human he’d definitely classify as an alpha. Put that into perspective. I can’t. Fight. Him. Off. It’s biologically impossible.”

“So you poke his eyes. Dig your fingers into his gills. He should let go of you then.”

“That’ll hurt him,” you protested, clutching the suit to your chest.

“Not as much as he’ll hurt you.”

You suppose it’s a clinical priority. Survival of the fittest, but it’s the human who has to live. The lab could afford to lose you, but they don't want to. And if they did, they might put the mer down. Shoot him up with enough tranquilizers to keep him comatose. Maybe it only bothered you because, yet again, he’s half-human and no one on the team knows the extent to which he thinks and functions.

To simplify it, they consider him a shark. But like any creature, sharks learn and adapt as they go. Death is instinct.

He will kill you.

But you don’t want to think like that, which is why you put on your best smile and trudge into the enclosure he’s being kept in. The tank looms before you, seawater clear and beamed through with streaks of light from the harsh, glaring LEDs above. The deeper the water gets, the darker the shadows. You press your palm against the glass, observing the murky darkness with a frown. Somewhere in this tank, at a depth you can’t even imagine, is an eel merman. A big, strong, powerful, scary eel merman.

You swallow a steadying breath, curl your fingers into fists, and climb the spiral staircase to get to the attached platform. Your reflection follows you with each step, countenance set in grim confliction. Once you reach the top, you peer out at the surface of the pool, listening to the droning hum of water filters and other hidden machinery. There’s a very shallow part of the tank, a dip in the design that allows for the mer to lounge if he so pleases. You’re reminded of the dolphins in live shows, who slide up onto their stomachs to face an awestruck audience. You doubt that’s what he’ll use this ledge for. If anything, it could allow a researcher to kneel in the shallows while they interact with him at an intimate propinquity.

You don’t plan on being that researcher.

Instead, you pace a healthy distance away from the edge, holding a bucket of his breakfast in one hand and a notebook in the other.

“Um!” You cringe at your voice as it reverberates around you in a nervous echo. Cautiously, you inch towards the water. “I have your food!”

You wait three seconds, expecting him to come bursting up from the darkness like the shark everyone wants to delude themselves into thinking he is. The water remains still and unbroken. You wonder if your voice can even reach such a depth. If not the sound, the vibrations might. Or maybe he’s resting. It’s still relatively early in the morning. Perhaps his sleep schedule is thrown off. Yours would be if you were taken from your home and dumped in a manufactured version of your habitat.

You lurch forwards with the bucket and watch as a collection of shrimp, crab, and small fish soar through the air in a sloppy arc before landing and sinking into the waiting depths below. Nothing happens. The tension in your body ebbs away, and when it becomes clear that he isn’t coming up to greet you and feast on your offering you relax completely, collapsing against the wall with a great sigh.

If they really want to study him, they should just watch him on the security feed, you think, peering up at the camera in one corner of the room, its red eye fixated on you and the surrounding enclosure. He’s not going to come up during the day. Not when there are humans walking around.

Still, you wait your shift out, scribbling nonsense in your notebook and occasionally glancing up to gauge the state of the water.

The mer doesn’t show, so you resolve to try again.

Try you do, and try you have. 

It’s been one week of perfunctory routine, arriving and feeding him at the same time in hopes that he might understand what you’re doing and come up to investigate. Or, at the very least, recognize you’re a recurring figure in his chapter of captivity. You don’t intend on befriending him. You only wish to fulfill your duties as a researcher, however skewed they may have become. Even though you know you ought to be grateful the mer hasn’t caused any problems, you want something to happen. Anything! At this rate, you’d sooner tire yourself out playing with rowdy sea lions than sit around in silence while waiting for an appearance from him.

It’s a quiet Tuesday afternoon when the first beat of unrest hits.

The mer’s enclosure is kept at a comfortable temperature for humans; it’s the water that’s freezing below the surface. So when you step up onto the platform and peer into the chum-infested deep, the empty bucket now set aside, you feel warmer than usual. Odd, considering the room is normally so chilly. Not extremely so, but chilly enough to give way to a pleasant cold.

Tugging at the collar of your shark suit, you cover the distance to stand under a large fan situated just near the dip in the pool. Cool air kisses your heated skin, providing you with much-needed relief, and you peer up at the propellers that spin in endless circles. Around and around and around. Your eyes follow the motions until you dizzy yourself, and you step back on wobbly legs. Your foot misses the metal platform and instead slips into the ledge built in the tank. With a startled yelp you fall backwards, landing in the shallows on your rear.

“Of course,” you mumble, bitter with embarrassment. “Leave it to me to fall right into the predator’s tank.”

You scoot further up onto the ledge, staring at the water below. It’s quite calm here, where the shallows lap languidly at your waist. If you were delusional, you might think this was a jacuzzi pool that you could dip your toes in. It’s not. Of course it isn’t. Not when there’s a beast lurking just below. But while you’re here, you run your hands through the saltwater while your own body temperature rises as if it’s a hungry flame in a stone hearth.

You place your hands on either side of the ledge, intending to push yourself up and onto the platform, when something tightens inside of you. Your heart stumbles in your chest and you lose the strength in your arms at once. With a noisy splash, you flop back into the shallows, your compromised body rigid and shaky with a tingling, all-encompassing warmth. Horrified, you raise two fingers to your pulse to feel it stutter wildly beneath your skin.

Swallowing thickly, you lower your head onto your arms and wait for the feeling to pass. The seconds slip by and in that short amount of time your state seems to worsen. Your temperature is volcanic, your every sense restless, and you’re sweating through the shark suit as if you’ve just run a marathon and more.

“Not now,” you hiss, slapping your hands upon your face. “Please not now. Anything but now…”

You intend to haul yourself up and out for good this time, desperate to get as far from the pool before your brain is completely overrun by your encroaching heat and robust omega instincts, when fingers brush against your leg. Something chitters behind you, a low, slow sort of sound that is shot through with curiosity. You turn as if you’re frozen in ice, your heart in your throat and senses on high alert.

The eel mer is right there, clutching your ankle in a firm grip. Not to hurt you, but to keep you there. And you’re not at all in a hurry to leave. Not when those claws are so close to your calf, capable of shredding through to your very bones. Even with the shark suit, you worry. He stares at you with narrowed eyes, his head angled in a cute, childish way. He appears confused and rightfully so, considering you’re a creature he’s likely never interacted with so closely before. You mirror his befuddlement, your brows furrowed, lips creased in a thin line.

For a long while, the two of you watch each other. If you look past his predatory design, he’s quite pretty with his smoky teal coloration and dark stripes. Your gaze pans over to the water, where a long, powerful tail disappears below. The paranoid side of you says he’s going to drown you, but then he doesn’t seem outwardly malicious in his intentions.

“Um…”

He flinches at the sound of your voice, his head snapping up to your throat and then your lips. Your attempt to pull your captive leg back is thwarted when he lurches, rising out of the water to grab hold of your foot. You gasp and shake your head at him, your senses sharp and dull all at once. Your heat-addled mind just barely parses the threat of danger, looming and ever-present.

“Please,” you beg, your tone sticky and breathless. “Don’t…”

The mer tilts his head the other way. The fins where his ears might be if he were human shiver, as if listening to the desperation in your syllables. He chirrups, lips widening in a sharp-toothed smile, and then he’s dragging you towards him. Panic seizes your nerves and you dig your palms into the smooth basin in an effort to get away. His expression falls when he notices your struggle and he lifts himself onto the ledge with you, draping himself over your legs like an oversized rug.

“Wait… H-Hold on; get off!” You grunt and weakly prod at his chest. He doesn’t budge. “You… You’re heavy!”

His webbed hand closes around your waist, steadying you in the shallows, while his other arm cages you beneath him. Instinctively, you arch into his touch, your breath coming in tiny, frenzied huffs. He clicks at you, and words that you can only assume are meant to be gentle and soothing are produced in a sweet melody. It relaxes you more than you’d like to admit, a lyrical balm to your terror.

You squeeze your eyes shut and brace yourself for the worst. For the searing pain and the stinging agony. For the blood that will color the water a dark, foreboding red. For the sight of him merrily tearing into your jugular, his maw spattered with crimson. But none of that ever comes. He cradles your face next, his thumb running along your cheekbone, and slowly you peel your eyes open. His face is inches from yours, looking on with an intensity that’s almost primal.

Warily, you lift your arm out of the water and touch his hand. It’s much bigger in contrast to yours, but he’s handling you with such immaculate tenderness.

“You’re not going to hurt me…” you mutter, amazed. “You’re just curious.”

As if responding, he chitters. You nod even though you have no idea what he said. He doesn’t smell like an alpha or an omega or a beta. You’re not even sure if he’s capable of releasing pheromones, but if he were you’re certain it would have driven you much crazier than you already feel.

You hold his stare and reach up to pat his cheek, and he leans into your careful touch. Your hand soon trails down to trace his lateral lines, which earns you a pleased hum. You watch in awe as the gills on either side of his body flutter.

Led on by your own wonder, you follow the pattern to his waist and press your thumbs into his hip bones beneath smooth, slippery skin. “How fascinating… I wonder if it’s possible to take an X-ray. Would you allow—oh!”

Clumsily, he lifts you into his arms to embrace you, rolling his hips against the chainmail shark suit. Your breath hitches, and you fumble to grasp his broad shoulders.

“Ah, w-wait. I’m not… You can’t…”

He clicks thrice and lowers you into the shallows, his face scrunched in annoyance. You think he might’ve understood you, but then he’s palming between your legs and it occurs to you that he wants the suit off. Carnal delight shivers through you at the prospect of being wanted to such a degree, and though you know it’s the heat muddling your sensibility you can’t help indulging him just a little. You undo the zip at the back and slide it from your body, revealing your shoulders and bare arms for his wandering, mismatched hues. He leans in to nose at your scent glands, chattering happily as he inhales. You can’t understand a word, but he sounds pleased—even more so when he runs his hands along your arms, squeezing and petting in equal measure.

His tongue laves across your neck, and what fragile restraint you have left snaps. You cling to him like he’s your anchor, meeting his searching hips halfway with every awkward thrust that doesn’t quite connect as it should. You chew your lip, tamping down a torrent of filthy moans. Your mind is clouded with lust and instinct, and you dig your fingers into his hair, holding him against your neck while he continues to lick and nip.

It feels right up until the haze parts momentarily, allowing temporary sobriety when you spy the tip of something poking free of its encasing. Dazed and inquisitive, you reach between your bodies to prod at his slit, hoping to coax more of his prehensile cock from out of its folds. But then the door below opens and the mer lifts himself from off of you, his head turning in the direction of the sound at an alarming speed. You blink up at him, lazily following his line of sight. His lip curls up in a silent snarl, the beginnings of razored teeth peeking out, and then he slithers back into the water, his hands lingering on your ankles.

Despite the dizziness you sit up, your arm outstretched. “Wait, don’t go!”

I didn’t get to cum yet. You didn’t even claim me either…

He peers at you, neutral for all of a minute before swimming over to you. He presses his face into your palm, chittering softly. There are footsteps on the stairs, and he grits his teeth, withdrawing completely before turning and diving under in a spray of seawater.

You fall back into the shallows, panting like a starved, feral monster. A researcher comes to your aid, her expression equal parts shocked and disturbed. You don’t catch her questions, each one tacked onto what feels like a ceaseless rant, while she helps you to your feet. Something about danger. About heats. About omega biology. About how the researchers watched the both of you on the cameras, swelling with queries of their own.

“I’m not sure,” you mumble as you’re helped down the stairs, stumbling in a heat-drunken stupor. Thankfully, your fellow researcher is an omega like you and that relaxes the hypersensitive part of you—the part that fears being taken advantage of when you’re vulnerable like this. But the needier, greedier part of you wants the mer—wants his hands and mouth all over you, ripping you free from your suit and indulging in the bare skin beneath. “I think he...wanted to help…”

No one can explain his behavior. But it seems promising.

While you’re led from the room, the eel mer stalks you from the gloomy confines of his tank.

In the days following your heat, you return to the marine lab with your head on your shoulders and are immediately barraged with requests. Amongst all of them, one common demand stands out: You have to get him up to the surface again. Part of you doesn’t want to face the mer again. When you truly mulled over that day, tossed the memory of it around in your mind like it was a tennis ball, you were hit with shame.

It’s not…normal. Researchers do not tangle themselves in sexual situations with their subjects, especially when said subject was an eel mer from the Coral Sea. It’s unheard of. Luckily, the team of researchers you work with swears to secrecy. You were out of it and your judgment wasn’t in the best state. That’s the excuse they’re using. It works enough to push the humiliation from your thoughts.

You wonder if you should feel disgusted by the events. Rather, you didn’t mind it. For all of his rough, scarred, monstrous edges, he was gentle.

You press your fingers to your scent glands, recalling the feel of his tongue.

Today you’ve donned your usual work attire, foregoing the shark suit and any other protective gear the lab expects you to wear. Something tells you you won’t need it anymore. Not after everything that happened the day you went into heat.

Feeling rejuvenated and refreshed after your mini break, you trudge up the staircase with a food bucket, determined to finally fill your notebook with data. You’ve only made it up four steps when color flashes in your peripheral. You turn and find the mer is at your eye level, following you up the spiral staircase adjacent to his tank.

You pause and wave experimentally. He watches your hand move to and fro and then he mirrors your actions. He swims the rest of the distance to the surface, breaching it just as you make it onto the platform.

“Good morning, Mister,” you greet, bending down to empty the contents of the bucket into the water.

Disinterested, he watches bits of shrimp sink deeper. And then he looks back to you, his mouth opening and shutting. “Fu… Fu…” he forces out, his face scrunched in concentration.

“Fu…? Food?” 

He nods and then shakes his head, hissing at himself in what you think might be admonishment. 

“Fu…ro…”

“Furo?” You set the bucket aside and scoot closer to the edge. “What’s that?”

He tries once more before the syllables fizzle out on his tongue and, with a few frustrated clicks, he swipes a fish from the surface and stuffs it in his mouth. You giggle, and the sound has him tilting his head. Without a shred of apprehension, he meets you at the ledge. You watch him munch on the fish between his lips, content to observe in silence. He polishes it off rather quickly before procuring a handful, which he dumps onto the ground beside you. You shake your head at him, smiling weakly.

“Thanks, but no. It’s all yours.”

The mer shrugs and indulges without you.

“I should thank you for not hurting me back then,” you add. He pays close attention to your lips; you think he might be attempting to read them while listening. “Um… But don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not sure if merfolk are like humans, but we have this system… Or not a system… It’s more like…groupings? Secondary classifications?” You frown. How can you explain the complexities of sub-genders to a mer who doesn’t even speak your language? “Basically, I was in trouble and you helped me out. Kind of. In any case, thank you.”

He stares at you for a while, chewing and swallowing. You think he might swim back under once he’s finished, but instead he places his hands on the ledge and hoists himself up on his arms. He’s in your face next, all eager smiles and chitters.

“Fu… Furo. Furo…ido. Furoido,” he sounds out.

You read his lips in the best way you can before it finally clicks. “Ah! Floyd, right? Is that…your name?”

Floyd points to himself, makes a few upbeat clicks, and then nods. He’s pointing at you next.

“And me? Oh, my name is (Name).” You take your time sounding it out for him, and he repeats it with an awkward tongue. You smile and nod encouragingly. “That’s it. That’s me.”

He flops back into the water with a celebratory trill, a wild smile tugging at his lips. You watch him swim laps from you to the opposite end of the pool and back. Ditching the shark suit was the right call. You’re no longer uncertain. This time, you know for a fact that you’re going to be getting along very well with him.

And you look forward to fostering this flowering friendship.

[persefolli]

Hi can I request a Tonowari x fem human x Jake where’s she’s much smaller than them and very innocent and they like that they can keep her close to them and tower over her and hide her from the other males as they’re very protective over her and get jealous easily and they love to always be touching her tanned skin whenever they’re near her or talking to other clan members and they’re not afraid to touch her large chest in public secretly giving her little squeezes there too finding her little reactions very adorable. One day Tonowari and Jake discusses something privately and they ask her if she wants to take a ride on their animals for the first time she agrees but they have one condition for her which is that they’d prefer her to be naked because they love how soft and small she is and can’t get enough of her and her body and gets on sitting in front of Tonowari on his Tsurak and he can’t keep his hands to himself and then on the way back she flies with Jake on his Ikran and he’s more touchy than Tonowari or something along those lines thanks 😊

𝐀/𝐧: 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐦𝐩 𝐦𝐞!!!! 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐨 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐈 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐣𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭. 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐧𝐨𝐭? 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐦𝐩 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐓𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐢 𝐱 𝐇𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐒𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖, 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐍𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐲

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @ms5m1th, @18lkpeters, @yukichan67, @laylasbunbunny, @jakesullyscocksleeve, @neteyamyawne, @fanboyluvr, @letsloveimagines, @xylianasblog, @papichulo120627

“We hit them at the left flank and that will wipe out most of their ground firepower. After we hit that, we attack from above, knocking them from their boats and planes and having the sea team hit their marks in the water.” Jake moved around little figurines around the map he had spread on the table.

Most of the council had learned to ignore the presence of the curious human that peeked out from behind Jake to see what everyone was looking at. “Once we take control of the boat, we disable the navigation systems and dock it behind the mountain so it can’t be seen before the island. Got it?”

Everyone at the table nodded before filing out of the pod. Jake had his war paint on already, and went to go clip on his vest. You went over to his bins and picked up a large automatic rifle, walking over and handing it to him.

“Hey, you know I don’t like you handling these.” He lightly scolded you.

Tonowari walked in with his spear and nodded at Jake. “We’re all set. Inbound is 40 minutes.”

You wished as a human you could help them, but when there was war at the front door, they didn't want you nearby.

Jake kneeled to your height and held you by the back of your thighs. “You stay here and keep working on your little project, kay. Don't leave this pod.” He kneaded your thighs. Tonowari walked over and placed a tender kiss on your head, before walking out the door.

“We come back in one piece, we'll have a little fun, okay?” He smiled and you found yourself blushing. He tapped your thighs before exiting the pod as well.

As promised, your lovers came back early the next morning, bruised and battered, but back in one piece like they promised.

Jake scooped you up without a word and laid down in the cot with you sitting in his lap. Tonowari leaned his spear against the wall and laid beside Jake, exhausted. You leaned down and lodged yourself between the two men, staying there so they could be comforted after the long battle.

That night, a big banquet was thrown. The Metkayina were hooting loudly and dancing expressively as yet another victory was won against the Sky people. You sat behind your two lovers, eating and watching the na’vi in amusement. Jake turned back to look at you, scanning the mask on your face, then looking at the band on your wrist before turning back to the ceremony.

“Why can’t we dance? We should join in.”

“You would get trampled. That is why we are not joining in.” Jake said sternly.

You looked down at your outfit. “I’m wearing bright green. I’ll be careful.” You began to whine. “It's not safe little one.” Tonowari chimed in.

A frown began to plague your face, falling silent behind the two. A large hand made its way to your chin, “Hey, don’t do that.” Jake frowned with you

“If you want to dance it will be in the comfort of our own home, not out here where someone can take you from us.” Tonowari turned to you. They noted the frown wasn’t letting up and moved to comfort you, physically.

Tonowari squeezed your thigh and Jake caressed the back of your neck..

“You two always say that.” You mumbled. “That someone will take me. They're not even paying attention to me.”

“You’d be surprised.” Jake scoffed. “Most na’vi haven't even seen a human before. You would be like a pet to them.

Jake was being negative again. He knew it was manipulative of him to discourage you so often like this, pointing out the flaws in other na’vi and implanting the ‘what ifs’ in your mind. But Jake was selfish, and he couldn't stand to see you with anyone other than him, or Tonowari. Tonowari had a similar stance when it came to you being around the other na’vi.

As somewhat of a rebellious front, you went running on the beach after the ceremony was over, leading them behind you instead of going right home. You reached down and balled some sand in your hands before standing up and throwing it at Jake’s thigh. He turned and stared at you before bending down himself. You squealed in anticipation and began running. Jake chased after you with a large clump of sand in his hands. With him having longer legs, he caught up to you in no time. You fell, obviously, and Jake dropped the pile of sand over your head, coating you in the grittiness.

Tonowari chuckled slightly before pulling you up by your arm, kneeling down and rubbing the sand off with his hands. One thing he knew about sand and human skin, is that it stuck, and it got everywhere, even the not so nice places. Jake worked up top, making sure your oxygen mask was sealed and no sand got in the filter. Tonowari ran his hands along your thighs and ass, swiping off the sand.

You flushed slightly feeling both of their hands on you. “Wanna get in the water?” Tonowari pulled at the strap of your top, causing you to quickly hold the fabric down. “Sure.” You responded, but yelped, feeling a sharp smack on your ass. You looked back at Jake who had a smug look on his face.

The three of you swam sandwiched together in the ocean. Pressed against one another, floating, and watching the eclipse take over the sky. At this point there weren’t many na’vi on the beach, and the three of you got more than enough privacy. Tonowari hoisted you up in the water and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist.

He caught your lips in a passionate kiss, and you returned the affection, running your arms along his shoulders. “Let's have some fun, yeah?” He said when pulling away. He tilted his head and latched on your neck, causing you to go sucking on your bottom lip.

“N-not here!” You stammered.

Tonowari whistled, and ripples appeared in the ocean, getting closer and closer, until… “Hey!” You held your arm out as you were sprayed with water by Tonowari’s Tsurak. You gasped realizing that they were allowing you to ride it for the first time.

“Really?!”

“Mhm. We know you’ve been dying to try it.” Jake held onto the mouth of the Tsurak, keeping it steady for you and Wari to mount it. You reached out to pet the creature but Tonowari grabbed your wrist.

“On one condition.”

“Anything.”

His hands trailed down the sides of your body and he began untying your bikini straps. You let out a short gasp when he untied your top next. He hoisted you onto his Tsurak before climbing on behind you. Jake whistled and called his own over, riding next to the two of you.

You hesitantly reached forward to its snout and stroked it softly. Tonowari guided your hands to the straps, which he never used, and tightened his legs around you.

“Take it easy. No sudden movements.” He warned you. Jake led the three of you past the rocks, and into the deep ocean. The water glided through your toes and you felt at peace away from the bounds of the reef.

“Can we go fast?” You asked.

“Fast?” Tonowari scoffed. “You wouldn't be able to handle that sweetheart.”

“But you guys do it all the time. Even Norman got to do it!” You partially whined. You were starting to get tired of hearing the word no, or anything relating to it.

“Pressure is different here.” Jake turned on his Tsurak. “Norman has only ever rode in his avatar form. A Tsuraks full speed is what mach speed is on earth. I'm sorry baby, you wouldn't be able to handle it without being injured.” Jake explained.

You fell silent and went limp against Tonowari. Tonowari sighed and placed his hands under your armpits. “Sit up little one. Don't be like that.” He sighed.

“Pass her to me.” Jake held out both his arms. Tonowari effortlessly gave you over to Jake, and he put you between his legs before wrapping the lead around his hand a few times and clenching his thighs around yours.

“Jake, this is not wise.”

“If she wants fast, I’ll give her fast.”

He hooted and the Tsurak went flying forward. You gasped and felt yourself being pushed against Jake. The pressure was unlike anything you ever felt before. You were unable to move against the wind, and your mouth began to open from the harsh winds. It was like a rollercoaster, which you haven't rode in years. You giggled against Jake and he finally slowed down. Your hair was messy and your jewelry was blown out of place, but you had a smile on your face.

“That was fun!”

Both Na’vi exchanged a look of relief. Jake kept his arm around your waist, pulling you back into him as you two treaded the water.

That night the three of you rode off to a nearby cove, one that overlooked the sea. Tonowari gave Jake a break and took you into his arms, squeezing you tightly against him and caressing the side of your torso.

“We only ever want to protect you little one.” Tonowari placed a single kiss on your forehead.

[heartpiratedrabbles]

Shanks Touch

Prompt: Shanks visits your village after being away for a long time and in classic Shanks fashion a party ensues.

Requested by Anonymous

NSFW

Shanks X Male Reader

It had been a long while since Shanks appeared on the shores of your island. Many moons coming and going before you got word of the warlord checking in on one of his many territories. Your heart skipped a bit as you watched the horizon for any sign of his ship. The island always seemed to be more chipper when he was around, a never-ending party as Shanks would gleefully find any excuse to continue drinking.

         It took 3 mornings, but finally you could see it. The Red Hair Jolly Roger waving in the wind, it’d only be an hour or so until his ship would be docked, and everyone about seemed to be prepping for their arrival. Every tavern fully stocked, and more shipments expected to arrive soon, fully expecting to be drank out of house and home.

         The towns people’s happy faces talking of Shanks greatest feats as the town square looked like it was preparing for a festival. You, yourself were helping set up lodging, knowing the pirate crew would be passing out on land after being on the sea for so long. The towns mayor more than happy to gather tribute money for the protection the Red Hairs Flag offers us.

         Finally, you hear the bell ring through the town, the ship docking as his crew unloads the boat of treasures and booze. You run towards the dock, staying to the back of the crowd as you glance through faces to find the familiar red hair, his tall-tale laugh reaching your ears as you see him a couple dozen paces away.

         Your feet freezing in place when you see him smiling while talking to other townsfolk, a tug on your heart before you force yourself forward, determined to make yourself known. Before you can even get near him you hear him call your name, his attention turning towards you as he walks up to you. He bends down, easily picking you despite the one arm and twisting you around. “Shanks!” You say with a smile plastered on your face.

         “How I’ve missed you!” Shanks laughs out while putting you down, “This calls for a celebration!” His hand raising in triumph as you could see Benn sighing heavily behind him. The next few moments seem to move too quickly as you’re swept with the crowd, Shanks keeping a hold of your shoulder as he walks towards his favorite tavern.

         It isn’t lost on you how his hand ghosts your back before resting itself on your ass. A subtle squeeze as he leans closer to you. “I’m assuming by Benn’s reaction that you were already ‘celebrating’ on deck?” You laugh out, twisting your neck to look at him as you grab his hand, moving it to your hip.

         “He’s just a Sourpuss that I drank an entire keg” His booming laughter filled your ears as the entire town was swept into a rhythm of his making. Shanks leads you to the back of the tavern, sitting in an corner with a large round table, his men filling in the rest of the seats as tankards full of Rum and Vodka were placed in front of them.

         He pulls you onto his laugh, his arm wrapping possessively around your waist as he pulls you flush against him, his head leaning over your shoulder as you grab his cards for him, holding them only for him to see while he sips his drink. Cheering and laughing ringing through the building while you help him play poker, his hand laying on your hip as he grinds into you.

         It isn’t until a couple of drinks in that you feel him sink his hand into your pants, a blush rushing to your face as you glance to see if anyone notices, his fingers delicately brushing against the skin of your dick, a twitch into his hands as you suck in a breath. “I’m glad to see I’m not the only one happy to see you~” Shanks whispers into your ear, grinding his own hardon into you as you hide your face behind the cards in your hand.

         His thumb running over your delicate tip as you attempt to keep playing while distracted, moving one of your legs so he has easier access to do as he pleases. Shanks lips pressing against your jawline and neck as you press yourself into him.

         You can feel Shanks grin into your skin as he tightens his hold around you, a playful tug making you yearn for more, “Kid it’s your turn.” You slap a random card down, not caring about the game anymore as your head leans back onto Shanks’ shoulder, your free hand wrapping around to rake your fingers through his hair, a low groan escaping your lips.

         “Is there something you need darling?” His hushes whisper pressed against your neck as he leaves a bruising mark in his wake. Slow, deliberate strokes driving you insane as you try to thrust into his touch, “Remember you have to play properly,” His slight taunt making your ears ring as you open your eyes, glancing at the table. Most seem unfazed, others glancing but returning to their cards as the rest of the Tavern continues to party on.

         Huffing as you feel him teasing you, changing pressures as he continues to pump his hand, Shanks enjoying watching you unravel. Straightening your back as you scootch a little bit off his lap, your hand dipping behind you to palm the outside of his pants just as he quickens his pace.

         “Getting daring, aren’t we?” Shanks whispers, nipping at your earlobe as he ruts up into your palm, his grip becoming tight, a finger dancing over the slit of your sensitive tip as you choke on your breath.

         He pulls you back against him fully, jerking you faster as you lean against the table, your face in your arms as your hand barely holds onto the cards in your hand, your legs dangling on either side of him. Biting your lip to hold back your labored breathing as your release quickly approaches.

         Grinding your hips into his touch as you feel the pressure building, Shanks hand quickly glides down your shaft, a tight hold around the base of your leaking cock. A desperate moan escaping your lips as your eyes widen, the building of pressure feeling like too much. Your hands pushing you off the table as you push yourself against Shanks even further in a desperate attempt to get his hold on your cock to loosen, to let you feel the sweet release you’ve been craving.

         “Now, now.” His laughing tone hits your frustrated ears, “That’s for later. Can’t have you becoming spent too early.” You feel the pressure slowly ebb away, the tight grip around your cock loosening as you slam your head against the table in disbelief.

[pileofmush]

the sun still rises ☼

pairing ➸ monkey d. luffy x fem!reader

synopsis ➸ luffy catches something in the water. it's a girl, to his dismay. not a fish.

details ➸ tags: pt. i, angst, introspection // cw: very much a vent fic, near-death experience, struggles with mental health, i gave reader a name bc i can, an attempt at prose // wc: 1.4k // series m.list

Water crashes against a rocky shore. It whispers; it sings. Rising and rolling, the water recedes; it warns. 

A thud. Feeble knees collapse into wet sand. Salt lingers on your tongue, though you’ve scrubbed your mouth three times now. You choke on the grains still lodged in your throat. Blink the sand out of your eyes.

Alive. You’re alive, you think to yourself. Your cruddy boat is gone, washed away somewhere. But you remain—alive. And the sun still rises and the world still spins.

Not that the world would have stopped spinning had you died. Not when death makes the world go round. Still, the sun rises. Still, the ocean’s tide sings. The tide drapes over you, blocking out the sky. Perhaps you should have fled, when you had the chance. But you didn’t-- you don't, and the wave crashes over you as consequence. You are moved. Moved by the wave; moved by the weight of your circumstances. No one prepared you for this. Your mother didn’t dole out this particular lesson in her long spiels about the meaning of life. And now, she will never speak again.

Mother leapt. 

Mother crashed. 

Like waves against a rocky shore. 

If only you could take on the attributes of the sea. The sea knows no god. She does what she wishes. But you? You bend. Bend to the will of those who want harder than you. Bend to the magnificent wave’s power as it drags you back, back into the godless sea. You are nothing, in comparison. Flotsam.

You don’t want. But there are things that you don’t want.

For instance: you don’t want to return to your mother. 

Oh, you thought that you did. You thought a lot of things. You once thought your mother believed in the hollow words she said. She didn’t. You once thought dying would be easy. 

It isn’t.

Dying burns. Like the burning in your lungs. It takes, and it consumes, until there is nothing left of you but a mound of ash. 

And, dying squeezes. Squeezes you out like a dirty dish rag, until out spills every morsel of fear, frustration, desire and hope that once existed inside your fleshy body. And, there you are. Your essence, pooled into the ocean for all to see. And in your last few moments, you are left to wonder, perhaps I did exist; perhaps I should have lived. 

You inhale. You don’t want to die. There has to be more to life than drowning in the waters of a strange island, strange ocean, stranger world. Saltwater fills your lungs as you begin to mourn the life you never lived. 

Dying, you find, is a color. A deep, solemn purple. The color of a fresh bruise; the color of your mother’s wine; the color of regret.

Cupped hands cut through water, frantic, as you try to rise; as your head spins. Above the waterline, above your flailing body, the wind howls. It warned you, you know. The ocean warned you. And now the wind howls, though the wail doesn’t quite reach your ears. Not over the deep blue croon of the ocean, and your own pained gurgles. 

You can’t think, any longer. Only feel. 

Feel your fingertips just barely breach the surface. Feel your legs kick with a renewed sense of urgency. Feel the sudden intake of air—sweet, glorious air rushing through your body—almost too much, but not even close to being enough. Feel the hands that wrap around your torso like a lasso, firm and sort of rubbery. Feel your body fling through the air, and your stomach lurch, before you collide into a person. 

It knocks the breath out your lungs, and you choke, for a second time.

The same hand that deftly plucked you out the ocean whacks your back, while the other keeps you upright. You would wave your savior off if you had the energy. You possess no devil powers—you dare not make a foe of nature itself—yet the ocean saps your strength, anyway. Takes what little you have left to claim, like she took away your mother. 

You’ve yet to open your eyes, but you can reason you’re on a ship. You can hear the calls of a woman over the song of the wailing sea, preparing the ship for docking in the middle of a thrashing storm. You hear the grunts of men, and the flapping of wind-beaten sails, and the stamping of several feet, scurrying across a wooden deck. 

When you’re finally done hacking your lungs, the savior makes to set you down. Your knees buckle.

 “Woah there,” you hear them exclaim, then let out a boyish laugh. The stranger hoists you up by your arm pits, like you’re a drenched cat. “You’re not a fish!” 

This is true.

You blink the water out of your eyes. In front of you: a boy. Just a boy with a wide, proud grin, and a curved scar underneath his eye. A yellow straw hat hangs from his neck. 

You cough up water as a greeting.  

You know of this strange, savior boy. He belongs on fading, brown parchment above big, bold letters—Wanted; Dead or Alive—his toothy grin immortalized on the bulletin board outside the pub back home. But he isn’t just any old criminal. No, this boy is far worse. For he looks at the expansive blue sea—godless, boundless—and has the gumption to declare it his playing field. 

He looks at what the world has to offer him with wide, peering eyes, and yet, he is still not satisfied. Surely, the world has more to give. Surely, it has more to take. That’s what he does, and it’s what he will continue to do: take and take until he’s had his fill. 

He’s a pirate, after all.

The boy sets you down on the deck and you are finally centered—reunited, at last, with the ground. He’s kind of awkward looking: gangly and disheveled and bright, but his carefree countenance wraps it altogether and ties it in a messy red bow. He tilts his head at a 90 degree angle and stares at you point-blank, thin black brows furrowed in confusion. 

“If you’re not a fish, what’re ya doing in the middle of the ocean?” he asks bluntly. Like you could help getting swept up in the current of Mother Nature. Like his crew mates aren’t currently scrambling to safely dock this ship. 

Your voice sounds strangled when you speak, words getting caught in your throat and roughly tumbling out of your mouth. “Drowning. I was drowning,” you manage to say. 

The rocking of the ship you’re on is not kind to you. Hunched over, your hands brace against your knees as you huff. Your fingers are pruned grapes, wrinkled and trembling.  

“That’s dumb,” the boy tells you. “Just swim next time.”

Maybe he has a point.

You look to the sky. It’s a deep, foreboding gray, pregnant dark clouds looming above and promising rain. Somewhere, you register, behind the clouds… is the sun. It’ll set, yes, and plunge the realm into night, but by dawn it will rise again. And the world will spin. 

“Who’re you then, if you’re not a fish?” The boy draws you back to him, demanding your attention. His eyes are dark as coal, round with open curiosity. You burn under his gaze; greedy and intense. 

Your back straightens. “I’m Yuna.” 

“Like Tuna?” he questions.

“Just Yuna.”

He accepts your answer with a swift jerk of his head and a slight pout. In the distance, you can hear the woman from before calling the the ship to anchor. One of the men—this one has a slender frame and long, long legs—leaves the helm and drops an anchor to the ocean floor. 

Your gaze flickers back to the boy who saved your life. “I’m Luffy! Monkey D. Luffy,” he introduces himself, then reaches for his straw hat to place atop his head. A red ribbon wraps around the base. 

Things make sense when the hat is on, you think to yourself. He makes sense. 

“Remember that,” he demands and jabs a thumb towards his chest, something like passion lighting his coal eyes aflame. “You’re talkin’ to the future king of the pirates.” 

As if the heavens already bow to him, this future king, it begins to rain. He pulls off his hat and looks up. Water droplets kiss tawny skin. They roll from his cheeks, to his chin, down the curve of his neck. 

Rain, your mother liked to say, is good luck. Fathers renewal. Change.

You hope she’s right.

[fishenjoyer1]

Fish of the Day

Today's fish of the day is the reef triggerfish!

The Reef Triggerfish, also known by Hawiian name humuhumunukunukuāpuaʻa, and scientific name Rhinecanthus rectangulus, is known for its prevalence across the indo-pacific, and for being Hawaii's state fish! Their range stretches from the Hawiian islands to the Eastern Philippines,Northern Australia, Indian ocean, small sections of the red sea, and the mediterranean. This fish lives its life out along reefs and other sea shelves, as their hunting style consists mostly of digging in the sand and rocks for prey, similar to pigs digging for truffles. Their diet consists of reef invertebrates, algae, small crabs, sea urchins, and other benthic animals. This diet can support them to sizes of 10-12 inches, which is the smaller range for triggerfishes.

These fish, like many other triggerfish, gain their name from their ability to fire and aim jets of water, which it will also use to hunt and find prey beneath the surface. They also will use this against other fish and larger beings in their territory, as reef triggerfishes are intensely territorial, and solitary other than in breeding season. This can manifest in cases where reef triggerfish chase and bite humans viewing reefs. When met with predators, the reef triggerfish, similar to other triggerfish, finds small holes within rocks or corals that it will lodge itself within. The first dorsal spine will act as a physical barrier that can lock in an upright position, making it harder for predators to pry it out of their safe havens. Due to the shape of their spines and fins, these fish can swim forward, backward, and hover in the water.

Like most fishes, reef triggerfish have a breeding season from April-August, and classically have females lay eggs and males fertilize in groups. This being the one of the only times they interact with other of their species intentionally. Then after this, a female will build a nest, and wait with eggs until a few weeks after they hatch, at which point the fish will set out independently. Reef triggerfish can also change coloration, turning a more vibrant shade for breeding seasons. They will also present vibrantly when healthy, sexually mature, and unthreatened. They can also change colors to better match an environment around them, and do so nightly when they settle into holes to rest.

Have a wonderful day, everyone!

[trickphotography2]

D-Day by TrickPhotography | Chapter 15

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female!reader

Word count: 5.4k

Synopsis: After finding out his girlfriend is pregnant, Jake is ready to move in and get married. The last thing he expected was to be hit with a six-month deployment at sea and missing the birth of his first child.

18+, minors DNI

Chapter 14 | Series Master List | Ao3

---------------------------------------

Chapter 15

“Beau.”

“Absolutely not.” The soothing sound of waves crashing onto the shore, coupled with the steady rise and fall of your husband’s breath, was lulling you into a doze. With his hands planted firmly in the sand, Jake supported your weight as you sat between his legs, back pressed to his chest. 

Given that he was about to be surrounded by the ocean in just a few days, you’d been surprised when he planned to spend Sunday at the beach. Rather than stay at the beach at the Navy Lodge, where you were staying on North Island, you drove about an hour away. Under an umbrella borrowed from Penny, he passed a few hours with his head in your lap, turning to brush his lips to your stomach while you alternated between dozing and reading a romance book you’d grabbed from the airport. At his request, you read some of it aloud, trailing off when it got to a steamy scene. One green eye opened when you shifted, a sly smirk spreading across his mouth before he took the book from you and started to read you the somewhat graphic sex scene. When you tried to snatch it back, he leapt to his feet and continued. Once you’d gotten to your feet, he dodged your attempts to snatch it back, finally tossing the book onto the towels before swinging you into his arms and charging into the water. He gave a three-second warning before dunking you both under the waves.

With your legs wrapped around his waist, he walked out far enough to conceal the fact that his hand was between your thighs, rubbing your clit through your bathing suit. With nails digging into his shoulders, you kissed him hard, forcing him to swallow your gasps as you clenched around nothing.

“I love that name,” you grumbled, toying with the high hem of his wet swim trunks. 

“Do you know what Admiral Simpson’s name is?” Huffing, you let your head fall back onto his shoulder, the corners of your mouth twitching when he chuckled and kissed your temple.

“If we can’t name our kid after someone you work with - you realize that narrows down our options. A lot.”

“I’m not naming my kid after my boss. Besides, we don’t need a boy's name.” His sandy hand covered your stomach, cool against your sun-warmed skin. “Kiwi is a girl.”

“Nectarine is a boy. When you call him ‘Kiwi,’ it sounds like I have a New Zealander in my uterus.” You couldn’t help but smile as Jake laughed, bouncing you lightly. 

“Nope,” he finally managed. “Just the combination of a Texas boy and a Florida girl in there.” 

“Sounds like a dangerous combination.” 

“Parker.”

“Hmmm,” you said, wringing the water from your hair. Jake pulled back the shower curtain and grabbed a towel. “Parker Seresin. That’s cute. And it would work for a boy or a girl.” Pressing himself to your back, Jake leaned down to kiss your neck. 

“What do you think about giving her your middle name?”

“It’s a weird middle name for a boy. What do you think… would you want him to be a junior?” He froze, breath stuttering against your skin. “Jacob Michael Seresin, Junior. JJ for short.” After a moment, he gathered himself and shook his head. 

“No. I don’t want any of our kids to be a junior.” Something was guarded in his eyes when they met yours in the mirror. Seeing your worried look, he forced a smile. “Besides, Jacob’s a weird name for a girl.” With a sigh, you shook your head and pulled the towel from his hand, dropping it onto the floor and tugging him from the bathroom. Chuckling, he pressed against your back, fingers slipping between the gap in the towel wrapped around you. Tutting, you pointed to the edge of the bed, and he obliging sat, legs spread wide enough for you to stand between. 

“Jake,” you said softly, shaking your head when his hands curled around your thighs and started to move higher. With one hand braced on his shoulders, you ran your fingers through his wet hair and sighed. His smile dropped at your serious expression.

“Darlin’?” 

“I… I know you’re sure we’re having a girl and that you said you don’t have a preference, but…” Blowing out a breath, you tried to force away the inconvenient prick of tears in your eyes. He said your name softly, concern etched on his face. “Sorry,” you said thickly, shaking your head. “Fucking hormones. Sorry. I just - will you be okay if we have a boy?” 

“Of course,” Jake said quickly, lifting his hands to frame your stomach while drawing you closer. “I thought we were having fun - I didn’t realize that saying the baby’s a girl upset you.”

“It’s not,” you sniffled, trailing your nails down his neck. “It’s just… you’re so adamant, and by the time we find out what they are, you’ll be so far away. And just now, y-you looked so… so… I don’t know when I asked about naming them after you.” 

Slowly, Jake’s gaze dropped from yours, first down to your nose, then chin, before his head lowered. His forehead rested between your breasts, shoulders slowly rising and falling with each deliberate breath. You watched as his jaw ticked when he clenched his teeth. After a moment, he said, in a steady but strained voice, “If we have a boy, we can call him JJ.” Your heart broke a little at that moment, and you wrapped your arms around your husband, holding him tightly.

“I don’t care about calling him JJ. I want to know why you’re upset.” Gently, Jake pushed you away and stood, walking to his duffle and grabbing a pair of boxers. “Honey?” He dragged a hand through his hair, shoulders hunched, and shook his head. 

“I don’t… I never want our kids to think that they have to live up to their name.” 

“What do you - ”

“My dad used to tell me that he was glad they didn’t name me after him - that not making me a junior was one of the best decisions he made.” 

He made sure I knew how much of a disappointment I was.

That admission, shared after you first met his mother and sister, was unspoken but seemed to resonate in the silence. You bit your lip hard, taking a shaky breath and forcing away your tears. Never in your entire life had you felt such hatred for another person. 

Silently, you walked towards him and lightly stroked his back, feeling him tense under your touch. His eyes stayed glued on his duffle as you stood beside him, his expression purposefully blank. “Love?” you said softly, brushing your lips to his bicep. His eyes closed, brows furrowing as you trailed your free hand down his arm to tangle your fingers together. Jake’s grip was limp as your thumb stroked his empty ring finger. Sighing, you quickly brushed away a few escaped tears before pulling away and retreating to the bathroom. 

Hurt shone in your husband’s eyes as he watched you reappear a moment later, wearing your sleep shorts and t-shirt. Returning to his side, you took his left hand and slid his wedding ring back on, pressing your lips to the white gold band. “I want you to listen to me, Jake,” you said, voice rough with emotion. “You are a good man. You are an amazing husband. And our baby has no idea how lucky they are to have you as a father.” 

“A father who won’t even be there when they’re born,” he replied gruffly. 

“Not through any choice of your own,” you countered. Turning his hand, you placed your wedding rings in his palm. He quickly returned them to their rightful place on your finger. Catching his hand, you slid it under your shirt and pressed it against your stomach. “If we have a boy, will you love him any less than if we had a girl?”

“No.” His answer was quick and emphatic. 

“Would you favor his sister over him?” Jake shook his head. “Would you ever tell our son that he was a disappointment?” His throat bobbed, green eyes glistening. 

“N-never.” Ignoring the tears slipping down your face, you reached up to cup his cheek.

“You are nothing like your dad. You would never intentionally hurt your family.” 

“Dar - ”

“Nothing. Like. Him,” you reiterated. “And if it takes me saying it every day to get it through your thick skull, I’ll do it.” Jake let out a sad chuckle, his hand sliding from your stomach to your lower back as he leaned down to kiss you. 

“I love you,” he mumbled against your lips. 

“I love you too.” Dragging your hand down his chest, you entwined your fingers and took a step back, gently guiding him toward the bed. After you’d settled back on the pillows, he joined you, tugging your shirt up to kiss your baby bump. He rolled onto his side, propping his head up on a fist while his left hand stroked your stomach. 

“What…what about Oliver?” Jake asked hesitantly, focusing on the rise and fall of your breath. 

Your hand covered his, feeling the ridge of his wedding ring pressing lightly into your skin. “Oliver Seresin. Sounds perfect.” 

Jake tiptoed around the hotel room on Monday morning as he prepared for work. Woken by the sound of the shower, you’d reached for him only to find his side of the bed empty.

After the conversation the night before, you were even more worried about him being gone now. Not because of his physical safety - that was always a concern, and you spent too much time around pilots not to know how dangerous Jake’s job was - but because he was apparently keeping his worries hidden from you. The idea that he would compare himself to his piece of shit father angered you so much. 

With reruns of Friends playing low in the background, Jake told you that he was worried about having a boy because he didn’t know how to be a good dad to a son. If the baby was a girl, he would have some idea of what to do - Lina got away with murder but was clearly loved, and he saw how much your dad loved you. There was a blueprint he could follow with a daughter. When you’d tried to assure him that having a boy would only mean you learned how to parent together, he’d agreed with a skeptical look, and you knew he was just trying to appease you.

If you ever had the misfortune of meeting your father-in-law, he would walk away with a piece of your mind. You also felt a new level of anger with Sarah for allowing her husband to abuse her son like that. The fact that Jake grew up in that household to be a man you both loved and respected was astonishing. Sure, he was cocky at times, but it was an attempt to mask some pretty big insecurities. 

The water cut off, replaced by the buzz of an electric razor. A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened. “Morning,” you mumbled, opening one eye to see him rubbing a towel through his hair. He smiled tiredly and tossed the towel back into the bathroom before walking toward the bed.

“Morning, darlin’. Didn’t mean to wake you.” Shaking your head, you stretched out a hand and smiled when he took it, sitting on the edge of the bed. When you tugged, he sighed and briefly let go of your hand to pull back the blankets. He wrapped his arms around you, guiding your head onto his shoulder. Light fingers drifted along your forearm, nudging you back to sleep. 

“Flying today?” you asked, twirling your finger in the chain of his dog tags.

“No, just briefing and last-minute stuff. I should be off tomorrow or only need to go in for a few hours.” He pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head. “What are you going to do?” At your shrug, he chuckled. “You’ll have the car, so you should go out and explore. But don’t forget that we have dinner plans tonight.” Nodding, you tilted your head back to kiss the hinge of Jake’s jaw before forcing your eyes open. His green eyes crinkled when they met yours. “There’s my sleepy girl.” 

Humming, you slid your hand down his chest, slipping under the blanket to play with the waistband of his boxer briefs. “Need me to do anything this morning?” you asked. 

“As much as I really wish we could,” he huffed, flattening your hand over the blanket, “I don’t have time.” 

“We can be quick.” Chuckling, Jake shifted to hover over you, his hips pressing yours into the mattress.

“Not that quick,” he huffed, kissing your neck. 

“It’s not fair,” you whined, wrapping your arms and legs around him. “The Navy gets you for the next six months. All I want is a couple of minutes this morning.” When he lifted his head to see your pouting lip, your husband couldn’t help but grin. He tasted like spearmint when he kissed you.

“The Navy only has me for a couple of years. You get me forever,” he murmured.

“Promise?” 

“Promise.” 

“Nope.” 

“No.” Jake’s voice was firmer than yours. His arm, which was draped across the back of your chair, tensed as he took a pull from his beer bottle. 

“Definitely not,” Rooster added, glancing between you. Your eyes met his, and he gave a strained smile.

“Why?” Amelia asked.

“Uh,” Jake said, lightly stroking your shoulder.

“That’s his ex-wife’s name,” you supplied, squeezing his knee under the table. At the girl’s embarrassed look, you shrugged, sending him a teasing glance. “He’s got a long list of exes, so there’s quite a few names that are crossed off.” Amelia smirked as Jake tugged a strand of your hair.

“I’m surprised he can remember them all,” Rooster muttered, then grimaced when Mav kicked him under the table. “Ow.”

“Dessert?” Penny asked, quickly pushing to her feet and grabbing her empty plate. With the pilots leaving on Wednesday, she had invited everyone to her house for dinner on Monday evening. 

“Rooster will help,” Mav said, giving the younger man a stern look. Groaning, the pilot quickly helped collect the empty dishes with Amelia, following the two women into the kitchen. 

“So, how are your parents?” Mav asked, rolling his water glass between his hands. Jake shrugged, and you squeezed his knee again. 

“Mine are good. They’re down in the Keys with their best friends right now and living their best lives. Got some pictures of them at a drag show earlier,” you chuckled. 

“They seem like nice people,” the older man grinned, eyes shooting to your silent husband. 

“They’re the best,” Jake nodded. “Couldn’t ask for better in-laws.” It was on the tip of your tongue to say that you could, with regard to his family. 

“Are they planning on coming out when you, uh…” He gestured towards your stomach, and you smiled, placing a hand on your bump.

“Yeah, they’re both going to fly out when this one makes their appearance in February. Mom’s already scoping out the fastest route in case I go into labor early.” Jake’s hand flexed, and you glanced at him. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his sad eyes. “You and Rooster will have to take care of this one for me when the time comes,” you said, leaning into your husband. 

“Of course,” Mav agreed, with the solemnity of a vow. 

“Admiral Tritz said the first one is usually late,” Jake said softly, turning his beer bottle around on the table. 

“He’s not wrong,” Penny said, sailing back into the dining room with her helpers in tow. She set a piece of cherry pie before Mav and kissed his cheek. “Amelia was a few days late.” 

“Bradley, too.” The man in question set the pie before you and collapsed back into his chair, and Jake smiled at Amelia and accepted the offered plate. “Carole was miserable, and Goose was asking everyone who had kids what they did to kick off labor.” 

“Well, there’s one surefire way of doing that,” Penny laughed, winking at you. You forced a smile, trying not to dwell on the fact that your husband wouldn’t be with you to help induce labor. 

“Yeah, don’t want to hear about that,” Rooster grumbled. 

“Gross,” Amelia agreed. You chuckled.

“After 38 weeks, just prepare to be uncomfortable,” Penny cautioned. “But at least you’re not heavily pregnant during the summer. That was miserable.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Completely worth it in the long run,” the older woman smiled, smoothing a hand over her daughter’s hair. 

A whirring sound woke you, and you opened an eye to see Jake walking into the hotel room, juggling two coffee cups. When he glanced at the bed, you quickly closed your eyes and feigned sleep. Depositing the cups and keys on the dresser, he toed off his shoes and quickly undid the buttons on his khaki shirt, draping it over the desk chair. You heard the jingle of his belt as he coiled it, and moments later, the bed dipped. The movement jostled you, and you tilted further onto your side.

But your husband didn’t pull you into his chest like you expected. Instead, the mattress shifted, and you felt a gentle pressure on your stomach and his arm on your hips, accompanied by a heavy sigh. It was silent for a long time, and you snuck a glance to see that his forehead was pressed against your stomach, feet dangling off the end of the bed. Your fingers twitched on the pillow, and you almost lifted your hand to thread through his hair when he spoke. “Mama may hate me for this, but please don’t come early,” Jake whispered. “Stay in there as long as possible. I’m…I’m not gonna be there when you’re born. I’m leaving you both tomorrow, and I hate it. I, uh…your daddy’s in the Navy, which means sometimes I’m gonna have to be away from you when I don’t want to, like now. I’m not gonna get to see you getting bigger in Mama’s belly or feel you move or get to talk to you. So just gimme as much time to get home as you can so I don’t miss more, okay?” 

It took all of your strength to lie there, forcing your breath to be steady as your heart broke. Jake had done so much to be strong for you through all the preparation for his deployment - giving him as much privacy as possible for his conversation with the baby was the least you could do. He was silent for a long time, and you were starting to feel the uncomfortable duel sensation of nausea and needing to pee. One of those would be easily remedied by taking the medication Jake always set out for you on the nightstand before going to bed. Still, you were reluctant to end the moment he so clearly needed. 

“I’m gonna screw up a lot.” His voice was muffled as he spoke into the blanket. “But I’m gonna do my best. You’ll never have to doubt that I love you and your mama. I promise.” Tears pricked your eyes, and you swallowed hard. When he pressed harder into your stomach, you squirmed - he and the baby were pressing on your bladder. The pressure lessened, and you could feel Jake looking at you. 

And then a gentle chiming started. 

Taking a deep breath, you blindly reached for your phone. Fingers brushed yours, gently taking it from your loose grip and turning off the alarm. “Morning, sleepy girl. Gonna stop pretending to be asleep now?” Without opening your eyes, you threaded your fingers through your husband’s hair. His lips brushed your inner wrist when you overshot, resting your hand on his cheek instead. 

“Love you,” you murmured. “Both of us.” 

After a long shower, you both dressed for the day. Jake had a few last-minute errands he needed to run, including getting a haircut, so you walked around the Navy Exchange before nipping into the Commissary to grab a few snacks. He’d assured you that he could pick things up at the mini-mart on the carrier, but you wanted to make sure he had some of the canned almonds and beef jerky he liked. And you wanted to sneak another small package of toothpicks into his duffle. Plus, yogurt-covered pretzels sounded good. 

The dock was the next stop. Besides visiting the Midway Museum, you hadn’t had much exposure to Navy ships, and you wanted to get an idea of what his life would be like for the next half a year. You weren’t able to get too close but could see them preparing to depart. Jake pointed out the ones going out with the strike group. In addition to the carrier, they would be joined by a cruiser, two destroyers, and a supply ship. Tomorrow, the dock would be full of families saying goodbye to their loved ones before the ships pushed away. The support and maintenance crews from Lemoore would already be on the bus down to San Diego. 

Once the carrier was underway and about a hundred miles away from shore, he explained, the fixed-wing aircraft would start to arrive. Aviators didn’t have the dockside departure that the rest of the sailors did because the jets couldn’t land on the carrier while in port. Jake pulled up an aerial picture of the USS Carl Vinson and described how the jets would land and be moved on the elevator to the lower decks or arranged along the edges. He, Rooster, and Mav would be the first to arrive, given how close they would be compared to the pilots coming in from Lemoore. The same system would happen when they returned - he would launch from the carrier and fly back to the base, where he’d meet you on the flight line. 

As much as you didn’t want to think about it, the whole process seemed fascinating. Over lunch, he pulled up videos to show a launch and landing, pointing out the crew in different colored vests and jobs in getting the pilots onto the steam-powered catapult. Jake had told you before how much of a rush it was to go from zero to 160 in under two seconds and come to a complete halt in the same amount of time, and an excited gleam entered his eyes. Taking off from the flight line with the meatball as a guide wasn’t as much fun. 

Jake held your hand as he drove back to the Navy Lodge, and you tugged him into the room, dropping your shopping bags as soon as the door shut. His hands closed on your hips as you guided him toward the bed, tugging at the button on his jeans. After shoving his jeans and boxers down to his thighs, he perched on the edge of the mattress as you sank to your knees. “Gonna miss you, darlin’,” he breathed as you kissed the head of his cock. Jake nudged the back of your throat, and you swallowed hard, blinking back tears in your eyes. His thumb lightly stroked your cheek before tracing your stretched lips. 

Waves crashed and washed over your feet, sand shifting underfoot as the water receded. Behind you, you could hear the screams of children playing in the surf, mingling with the cry of gulls. The sun was setting over San Diego as you walked further from the hotel. 

“Guy.” 

“Felix.”

“Felix? No,” you laughed. “Alexander.”

“Joseph.”

“James.” Jake cocked his head. 

“Oliver James Seresin. I like it.” 

“Enough not to get sick of yelling at him when he’s in trouble?” 

“Our kid will be an angel if they’re anything like their mother.”

“Okay. I’ll let you think that.” Raising an eyebrow, he pulled you to a stop. 

“You sayin’ you weren’t an angel growing up? Your mom told me you were a good kid.”

“Of course, my mom told you that - I was very good at hiding stuff.” Your family had struck a delicate balance many military families had - military brats grew up fast and independent, shouldering additional responsibilities when their parent deployed. You were also close with your parents, given that every few years, you would move away from your support system, and relationships with extended family were often impacted by moving far away from them. But with that closeness came additional freedom, which you had taken advantage of a few times. A few of those sleepovers in high school had definitely been a cover to sneak out and go underage drinking with friends.

Jake’s head fell back, and he let out a put-upon sigh, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Mama, if you weren’t the good kid, we’re in trouble.” 

“I think we can handle it, Tex,” you laughed, stepping in front of him and placing a hand on his chest. He smiled down at you, gently shaking his hand free and sliding it around your waist to bring you closer. The gentle swell of your stomach pressed against him, and you tilted your head expectantly. Jake’s lips brushed against yours in a teasing kiss. “Love you,” you murmured.

“Love you too.” He held you tightly, cheek pressed to the top of your head as you watched the sun sink below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange, pink, and purple. 

“Sloane Elizabeth Seresin.” 

“Sloane Elizabeth Seresin.” Jake tested the name, brows furrowed as he navigated the traffic of the San Diego airport. “Sloane Elizabeth…” He said nothing else as he pulled into the rental car return lot. 

You stifled a yawn, blinking away your exhaustion. Try as he might, your husband hadn’t been able to get you to sleep the night before, wanting to take advantage of every last moment with him. To feel his weight pressing you into the bed. To savor the slide of his sweat-slicked skin against yours. The drag of his calloused fingers. To swallow every muffled grunt and moan as he worshipped you. 

He’d dozed as you ran your fingers through his hair, feeling the steadiness of his breathing and heartbeat. You took the time to study the slope of his nose, how his lips twitched as he slept, and the laugh lines etched into his cheeks. Tried to imagine what features the baby would inherit.

Silently, you talked to them, telling them how much you loved their daddy. That he made you laugh every day. How he would serenade you in the shower, using the body wash as a microphone. How caring he was, from making sure you had medication to taking your car on Sunday to ensure the gas tank was full. And how excited he was to meet them. 

Jake turned off the ignition, fingers curling around the steering wheel. “Sloane,” he said again softly before turning to look at you. “Perfect.”

Dread pooled in your stomach as you walked towards TSA. When Jake had asked you to book your flight so you would leave before him, you hadn’t realized how hard it would be to give up those last few hours he would be stateside. 

“Please, darlin’,” he’d begged. “I can’t be the one to fly away from you both twice.” 

So you’d agreed. And now… now you wanted to skip the flight and stand on the North Island flight line for those last few painful moments. To see the afterburn of his jet rising into the air. But he’d been so strong, and now it was your turn. If this is what he needed, you would do it. Because you loved him. 

Your footsteps slowed as you neared the line until the clacking of both of your suitcase wheels stopped. Gently, he tugged you out of the way of other passengers and closer to the wall. Tears blurred your vision as you turned to bury your face in his chest, clinging to his flight suit. Jake held you tightly, hands sweeping your back as he pressed kisses into your hair. “It’s gonna be okay, darlin’,” he rasped. “It’s okay.” 

The first one is the hardest, your mother told you.

Remember that you’re a team, your father advised. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” you echoed, trying to make yourself believe it. “We can do this.” Sniffling, you pulled away just far enough to meet his eyes. You forced a smile when he gently thumbed away your tears, “I’m blaming the hormones for the waterworks.” 

“Definitely the hormones,” he agreed, tears glistening in his green eyes. His gaze drifted across your face as though trying to memorize it. Yours narrowed to a small patch of stubble on his chin that you’d missed when he’d lifted you onto the sink and handed you his razor that morning. Gently, you ran your finger over it and took a deep breath. 

“Be careful, okay?” you said, unable to look at him. 

“I will. You too.” You nodded, swallowing hard. “Call Javy or Nat or the guys if you need anything. Promise?”

“Promise. Call me whenever you get a chance?”

“Of course. The carrier has wifi, so I’ll be able to call you at least once a week. Can probably text you, too. And I’ll email.” Mav had passed along that piece of information the day before after he’d met with another captain assigned to the Carl Vinson to discuss the mission. “I want you to send me pictures, okay? Wanna see this one getting bigger.” He gently pressed against your stomach. 

“Oliver or Sloane?”

“Oliver or Sloane,” he agreed. “But probably Sloane. Can you send me a video of that appointment? When you find out what we’re having?”

“Absolutely.” You choked on the word and inhaled sharply. His lips brushed your forehead before Jake dropped to one knee and kissed your stomach.

“Be good for Mama, alright?” he said softly. “I love you so much.” You brushed away your tears, one hand resting on his shoulder. With another kiss to your bump, he stood up and quickly wiped his face. “I think it’s time to go, darlin’.” Rolling your lips together, you nodded. Your husband pulled you into his arms, hugging you tightly as he kissed the side of your head. “I love you.”

“Love you too. Be safe, and we’ll be waiting for you when you come home.” Jake swallowed hard. 

Together, you walked to the line and kissed one last time before you joined the queue. He retreated to the upper walkway, keeping pace as the line moved closer and closer to the TSA agents. 

You look ridiculous, you texted him.

Not leaving until you’re out of sight, he replied.

Rooster’s probably waiting outside for you. 

He is. He can wait.

You’re going to owe him.

He’s already told me I do. Worth it.

Too soon, you came to the front of the line. Quickly, you turned and met Jake’s eyes. ‘I love you,’ you mouthed before blowing him a kiss. 

And then, with one last glance at your husband, you handed over your license. The line for the scanners curled behind a wall. By the time you got past security, he had disappeared into the crowd. 

Fly safe, Hangman, you texted him. 

You too, Mama. Love you.

Your phone pinged with texts from friends and family checking in as the plane landed in Lemoore. But there was only one that you opened. 

Jake had sent a picture of himself in the cockpit, eyes narrowed as he smiled behind his oxygen mask. 

I love you, darling. I’ll be home soon.

Javy waited by baggage claim, and he quickly pulled you into a hug at the sight of your red-rimmed eyes. Though he offered to stay the night, you quickly sent him away once you were home.

Alone, you tugged on one of Jake’s Academy shirts and crawled into his side of the bed. Burying your face in his pillow, you sobbed.

Six months. 

Twenty-four weeks. 

One hundred and seventy days until Jake was home. 

----------------------------------------------

Author's Note: We knew it was coming, but this still hurt. Had to address some insecurities Jake has before he was too far away to discuss them, like the worry he has about having a son.

The USS Carl Vinson is a carrier that does have wifi that the sailors can access; I found a few articles about how it boosted morale to have internet access. So if Jake had to deploy during Darlin's pregnancy, at least it was on a ship that he could have better contact with. However, the wifi is a double edged sword as there were issues when an F-35 crashed and video leaked out before the official investigation. I surfed a couple military chat boards to find out about the CVW joining the carrier at sea, and watched a few homecoming videos NAS Oceana about the fighter pilots coming home.

Thank you for your patience with getting this chapter out, I really appreciate it ❤️ I'm also curious if you think that they are having a boy or a girl.

Read Chapter 16

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[phoenix-downer]

Always With You

And in a world without you, I'll dream of you.

Kairi's eyes fluttered open, and the world of sky and sea greeted her. The gentle swell of the ocean reflected the vast blue, purple, and pink stretches of the heavens above punctuated by an endless array of puffy clouds.

She always walked on the surface of the water here, like the regular rules of physics didn't apply. Or maybe the water was so shallow, merely a thin film coating the ground, that it didn't matter. Either way, it stretched out forever in every direction, as far as the eye could see.

And yet somehow, he always found her. That was the story of their bond, one of separations and reunions. If his journey began the day he lost her, it would end the day he found her for good.

“Sora!” she cried, happy to see him. This was the only place they could meet, in dreams, in this world on the boundary of life and death, this realm that floated between realities.

His face lit up like the sun rising over the horizon. He smiled and mouthed her name, forming her syllables and sounds like they were second nature. He wasn't fully here, so neither was his voice, but they communicated as best they could, with whispered words, tender touches, specific signs.

She reached for his hand, warmth radiating up her arm and spreading throughout her whole body. Here in this place, she nearly forgot how coldly his hand had been wrenched from hers that fateful sunset on the paopu tree.

With interlocked hands and held gazes, they smiled at each other to make up for all of the tears they'd cried. Faces close enough to kiss but neither of them closing that final bit of distance. It was the smallest distance and yet felt like the largest. Any attempts to breach it felt like stepping beyond the dream into unknown territory.

Still, at least they could dream. Dream of the day there would be no such barriers, the day they would meet again in reality or unreality.

When I come to, let us meet with our usual words on the usual street.

How nice it would be to hear his voice again saying the usual words, “I'm back,” so she could tell him, “You're home.” Because while Destiny Islands was important to them both, that fateful reunion day, they'd realized home wasn't a location so much as it was a person. When they were together, they were home.

This place was home too, in a way. A temporary lodging, a waystation, but a place of refuge where they could meet again nonetheless. She and the others endlessly searched for clues as to his real whereabouts, and yet his heart always knew to come here.

It seemed like an eternity ago that her heart had sheltered in his. So much had happened since then. Maybe his heart, or a part of it anyway, was hidden inside hers now. Taking refuge there, binding him to her, keeping him tied to the Realm of Light. Ever since sharing the paopu fruit with him, she'd known deep in her bones that the effects of it weren't just a legend, they were real, connecting hearts, binding fates together for all eternity.

Maybe the key to finding him wasn't somewhere out there. Maybe it was to be found inside herself.

She told him her suppositions. His smile got bigger and bigger, and he nodded enthusiastically. He made the motion of sharing the paopu fruit, pointed at her heart, and then mouthed, “I’m always with you.”

She grinned excitedly and cupped his face. “I'm always with you, too.”

A change came over his expression. His gaze flickered from her lips to her eyes and back again. She swallowed, her heart thundering in her chest in spite of the calm, serene scenery surrounding them. He wrapped his arms around her and tilted his head, and she let her eyes flicker shut, imagining how it would feel to kiss him at long last. There hadn't been time for that before he slipped through her fingers, but in this place there was world enough and time.

Right as their lips met, she jolted awake. The disappointment that flooded her whole being was powerful enough to make her cry, her chest tightening, her stomach throbbing and head aching and nose running. Tears trailed down her face as she made the unhappy adjustment to reality, to waking life. He was gone. She was alone in her room at the Land of Departure, a pupil of Master Aqua’s trying to get a good night’s sleep before another day of training. Her soft sobs echoed throughout the ancient room, stone nearly as old as the World’s rending her quiet companion.

But it wasn't an unfriendly place. The last embers of the fire in the fireplace glowed warmly, and the stars twinkled in the sky.

Stumbling out of bed, she padded over to the window and gazed outside. Her room in the castle was pretty high up, so she could see a great deal of the scenery below, even at night. The vibrant green hills and deep blue ponds and lakes, the training grounds and hidden caves full of secrets.

When she glanced into the heavens, she couldn't help but think of Sora and rested a hand on her chest. Was he thinking of her like she was thinking of him?

Wait a second. Her heart. Her heart was connected to his. A part of his heart was sheltering in hers. That was the key to everything, she knew it had to be.

Sora was with her. He had been all along, just like he'd promised.

“Aqua!” she excitedly called, not caring that it was the middle of the night. She knew her mentor would want to know what she'd discovered. It couldn't wait for one more second.

If she was right about this, she was sure she could find Sora. Not just a path to him or a way to him, but actually find him and bring him home.

There is always sleep between part and meet with our usual words on the usual street.

So let us part as we always do…and in a world without you, I'll dream of you.

When I come to, let us meet with our usual words on the usual street.

She knew she would see him again soon.

————————————————————————

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! This is based on Tam’s beautiful art for SoKai Day this year. A big thank you to her for doing the art 🥺🙏

I really enjoyed incorporating all the different quotes and reflecting on all those wonderful moments between Sora and Kairi. Also, I just have this gut feeling that the characters will spend most of KH4 looking for Sora and realize there is something they missed all along, like the paopu fruit connecting his heart to Kairi in a way that makes it easier for them to find him or at least for Kairi to find him and guide him home, so I wanted to explore that concept a little more. Happy SoKai Day!

[vintagerpg]

A lot of TSR’s Forgotten Realms has always read a little bit like a theme park to me. The Great Glacier as a ski lodge with monsters, the jungles of Chult as Jurassic Park with swords. I can see the appeal of this even as it kind of grates on my nerves because I can see all the seams clearly. Like, there was no attempt to hide the seams at all.

Go to the Sea of Fallen Stars, be a pirate! Pirates of the Fallen Stars (1992) may as well be the Forgotten Realms’ Pirate of the Caribbean ride. This should really annoy me. And yet, it does not. There are zero surprises here. There are details on lots of pirates, the islands of the inner sea and a set of rules for all things nautical. Oh, and there is one island where a neogi spelljamming ship crashed and marooned its monstrous crew. So I guess that, at least, is surprising. A pretty solid campaign could spring entirely from this book!

[leiawritesstories]

swords and sea breezes, 2

a continuation of swords and sea breezes, owed in large part to @renxzs for encouraging the whole mess <3

word count: 1.9k

warnings: none....i think...

enjoy!!

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

Aelin blinked in surprised confusion and crossed her arms across her chest. "I have absolutely no idea what on earth you're talking about."

The pirate--Rowan--dropped down into the leather-covered armchair beside the desk, lazily propped one booted foot on the opposite knee, and raised his eyebrows. "It'll go better for you if you tell me the truth, my lady."

"Since you're apparently deaf," she retorted, "I'll have to repeat myself. I don't know what the hell you mean, 'that island my fiancé is hiding.' Besides, His Highness and I are not particularly well acquainted. You'd likely have better luck tracking down this mythical fantasy island of yours if you captured someone who actually knows him."

"There's the woman who tried to jump out a porthole." A delighted grin broke across Rowan's face. "Well then, I should inform you that my men and I have already had some friendly little chats with Prince Dorian's soldiers."

"Why do I doubt there was anything friendly about those chats?" Aelin's question was dry enough to suck water out of the ocean.

Rowan shrugged, the pirate incarnate. "The soldiers are still alive, and I'd call that friendly enough." He leaned forward and propped his chin on his fists. "Only one of them knew something useful--there is an island, and the Havilliards are hiding it, and you, my lady, either know about it and are choosing to make this difficult or you are truly unaware that it exists, in which case I'll simply exchange the prince one beautiful, unharmed bride for the location of his little paradise."

The casual, conversational nature of the pirate's voice chilled her to her core. "Why are you so adamant that you get to this supposed island, pirate? Don't you have enough wealth already?"

"I've given you my name, my lady," Rowan smirked. "The least you can do is use it." He paused, his gaze turning sharp and calculating. "The island isn't about wealth or riches, though I wouldn't be opposed to a few more crates of gold. It's about what the place hides, my lady."

"Aelin," she said. "Don't pretend you have any manners, Rowan."

"I think you'll find me and my crew a good deal more well-mannered than any of your parents' fancy court, Aelin," he returned.

That barb lodged itself into a sensitive little corner of her heart, but she refused to let it show on her face. "That remains to be seen."

"As does your knowledge of the island." He grinned at her scoff of frustration. "You're quite good at misdirection, Aelin, but I've been in this game for far longer than you have."

"And you still seem unable to comprehend my words at their face value. I. Don't. Know. I don't know anything about this fairy story you've made up, nor do I know why out of all the ships on this ocean, you chose to attack mine." Sparks kindled behind her eyes, the heat of her frayed temper creeping up her throat, but she tamped down on that anger, forced it back into its locked iron box.

Rowan stood up, and she silently cursed her eyes for tracking the lazy, predatory grace of his movements. "Then I suppose we're done with this conversation for now. Enjoy your time on the Queen's Cadre, my lady. The ship is open to you." He strolled out, leaving the door flung wide.

"Damned pirates," Aelin grumbled. She swung her stiff legs out of the bed, grateful that whoever had dumped her there had left her in her skirt and blouse but removed her boots, which had been carefully placed on a low shelf next to the bed. There was a cabinet built into the wall beside the shelf, and to her surprise, its shelves contained clean, crisply folded ladies' clothes.

She hadn't had a full minute to wonder about the presence of that kind of clothing on a pirate ship before a sudden, cheerful voice made her jerk around with a gasp. "You're awake!"

Aelin pressed her hands to her throat as if she could push her heart back down from where it had leapt. "I...yes?"

"Well, that's reassuring." The dark-haired woman in Aelin's room closed the door behind herself and sized Aelin up. "Whitethorn is in an unusually good mood today, so thank you for that."

"I sincerely hope I had nothing to do with that," Aelin said dryly. "Who are you, and what the hell kind of ship is this?"

The petite woman threw back her head and laughed. "Oh, I like you!" She tossed her thick braid over one shoulder and extended her hand. "Elide Lochan, best sharpshooter on the Cadre and proud wife to the biggest grouch on board. I'm sure you already know we're pirates."

"Hmmm, yes. The cannons and the massive black flag did give me a hint," Aelin drawled. "Please don't tell me I kicked you out of your room, Elide."

"Oh, not at all!" Elide gestured to the cabinet of clothing. "I've picked up quite the collection of clothes over the years, but many of them aren't tailored for women of my height. You're welcome to anything you want, but I recommend trousers." She winked. "They're easier to get around in, and easier to hide a knife in."

"My kind of clothes," Aelin joked. "Thank you."

Elide grinned. "Anything for a noble lady of the Galathynius house."

Aelin groaned. "Could we not bring my entire lineage into this? It seems that everyone here knows of me." She reached into the cabinet and pulled out a soft cotton blouse and a pair of dark brown pants, running her fingers over the material.

"Well, you are quite recognizable." Elide touched Aelin's ruined braid, the messy waves that tumbled down her back. "Here, though, nobility and rankings don't matter--well, unless you're my husband or the captain, because the two of them are always having an authority pissing contest."

Aelin snickered. "From what I know of Rowan after one conversation, that sounds exactly like him."

"Absolutely insufferable." Elide turned around so Aelin could change, and she went over to the desk and came back with a hairbrush. "Here."

"Thank you." Aelin unraveled the few remaining strands of her braid, and a small cloth packet fell into her hand. She glanced at the crumbled powder inside the little pouch, and a grin unfolded across her face as an idea rapidly took shape in her mind. "Elide?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you have scissors?"

~

"What the fuck, Whitethorn?" Lorcan barged into Rowan's office, his usual scowl etched across his face.

Rowan set down the compass he'd been using to plot lines across the maps spread out on his desk and fixed his right-hand man with a long-suffering look. "What the fuck what, Lorcan Lochan?" He never could resist ribbing Lorcan about his married name.

"You tell me." Lorcan glared at Rowan. "What the fuck is the Galathynius heir doing on our ship, and why the fuck has my wife become such close friends with her in half a day?"

"Aelin Ashryver Galathynius is how we get to the Havilliard island, and as for what she and Elide are doing, maybe your wife is just happy to have another woman aboard." Dismissively, Rowan turned his attention back to his maps.

"Bullshit," Lorcan grunted. "But fine. Maybe Li is just happy that there's another woman. Though I think the fucking knives they've been throwing at our fucking dart board have more to do with that."

"Fucking gods--" Rowan dropped his compass and pen with a clatter and stormed out of his office and up to the deck, shoving his way past the handful of his crewmen who were gathered around the--

Fuck. Him.

Aelin wore fitted pants that clung to the lines of her lean legs and a simple blouse that was belted at the waist. With a clean flick of her wrist, she sent a small, slim knife whistling through the air, and the blade lodged itself just beneath a longer one near the center of the dart board. Elide whooped, and Aelin brushed a strand of wine-red hair...

Her hair was red. Not red, fucking wine colored, a deep, rich, almost burgundy hue that soaked up the sunlight. And the loose, wavy strands barely brushed her shoulders, when Rowan could swear that her messy golden-blonde braid had almost reached her hips when he carried her down to her cabin the night before.

He was going to punch the next crewman who looked at Aelin's legs in both eyes, right after he made that man regret even thinking about Aelin's legs. And now he was thinking about Aelin's legs. Preferably wrapped around his shoulders with her head arched back while she yelled his name to the gods.

Fucking hell.

"I see you've made yourself at home, my lady," he drawled.

Aelin whirled around, knife raised in one fist while the other curved slightly behind her hips in an oddly familiar gesture that prickled at a corner of Rowan's brain. In the afternoon sun, her hair picked up a brighter red tint, almost like flames around her head. "Elide kindly agreed to help me with my throwing form," she replied as her tense, defensive posture relaxed. "Though I'm sure that you're going to impose some arbitrary restriction against me throwing knives now that you've discovered it."

A corned of his lips tugged upwards. "And deny both me and my crew the delight of your obvious skill? Hell no." He turned to address his crew. "Gents, and Elide, this here is Aelin, and she's going to get us to that island we've been seeking."

Lorcan made an unimpressed sound. "She's going to get us to Doranelle?"

Rowan narrowed his eyes at the taller man. "Yep."

Aelin coughed softly, drawing his attention back to her. "Well, as entertaining as this was, I get the sense that I should go." Before he could stop her, she ducked down the hatch and slipped out of sight.

~

She'd lodged the desk chair beneath the door handle before she went to bed, but Aelin still startled each time a set of booted feet thudded past her door. Stars blinked into view as night's darkness settled over the ocean, and she gazed out the small porthole window up into the sky, tracing the paths of the constellations.

Unlike most others, she had never needed maps when she had the stars.

Aelin wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and leaned against the cool wood of the cabin wall, allowing the soothing lap of the waves rushing past the ship's hull to calm her mind. It had been a close brush with danger up there on the deck, those brief seconds when Rowan had interrupted her and Elide's throwing session and she'd almost launched that knife into his throat.

It had been an even closer brush with danger when Elide's husband Lorcan--the tall, dark-haired, scowling man next to Rowan, who Elide had pointed out--had let the name of the island slip. Rowan had glared at his right-hand man, probably because he had wanted to name the island the next time he came to press Aelin for information she wouldn't give him, and she was able to hide the flash of shock that had jolted her at hearing the word.

Doranelle.

She hadn't set foot on that tiny, beautiful, cleverly isolated island in far too long. And with the stars lighting the sky above, she wouldn't need a map to finally reach it again. Nor did she need Dorian Havilliard, despite his benevolent intentions, to protect Doranelle's secrets. As her betrothed, and as a distantly related descendant of the Galathynius family line, Dorian had been entrusted with keeping the near-mythical island behind its veils.

Aelin's whole being yearned to see the island again.

But until she knew that Rowan Whitethorn and his crew of pirates would honor what the island protected, she could not let him go there with her.

~~~

tags:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@mariaofdoranelle

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@aelinschild

@renxzs

[erebus-xvii]

Uzushio Headcanons!

been on a Uzumaki-centric binge for a while, so I though I'd write down my ideas somewhere, and sometimes the void throws good ideas back.

Starting out, the clans of Uzushio were absolutely merchants and pirates. Most island nations in our world have history as traders with a side of raiding either coastal villages or established trade routes. most of the rampant piracy ended with the warring clans period, but the hidden village of Uzushiogakure remained as something closer to a fortified pirate cove rather than a hidden ninja sanctuary. The actual capital of the land of Whirlpools sat on the other side of the island, a massive bastion of merchant activity where traders sold exotic goods and fleets hired Uzu ships as escorts.

speaking of Uzu ninja ships, those were large and bright and VERY visible, as if daring anyone to attack them. (I came upon this in Six Years After by Strawhat_Pirate, give the series a read) These warships range from raiding vessels about the size of a Viking longship to small fortresses gliding over the water, decked out in elaborate carvings, bright colors, and heraldry of different clans, individuals, and warrior lodges. While most of the raiding ended with the founding of Uzushiogakure, children in coastal villages all over the eastern seas learn some variation of 'Bright colors at sea, from the waters grasp flee' even up to the start of canon.

And there were a decent number of clans living in uzushio. The idea of a group of shinobi clans living together on uzushio predates the creation of Konohagakure, because power and riches tend to attract people who want in. This led to smaller shinobi clans basically showing up on Uzu's shores and swearing fealty to the Uzumaki. By the time that the other hidden villages are being recognized by their respective Daimyo, the head of the Uzumaki clan is the Daimyo of whirlpool and his successor is always the Uzukage.

a lot of people have the idea that uzushio was destroyed by 2 or 3 villages teaming up to ransack Uzu, but that feels a little over the top to me. Sure, Kirigakure would have absolutely had reason to hate Uzu, and Kumo does have a southern coast pointed almost directly at Uzu, but it always feels a little bit like power wanking. In Sha no Sho, (the third databook) it says that Kushina grew up during a period of civil war. So my theory is that Uzushio experienced some sort of internal conflict that weakened their defences near the end of the second war, which Kiri took advantage of, likely told by commanders that it was retribution for piracy their ancestors had suffered. This idea of vengeance combined with fear for uzumaki sealing techniques led to the slaughter of civilians, as refugees fled to the land of Fire. Most of the Uzumaki clan, however, didn't make it, being the main target of the Kiri nin's ire. Konoha's decree of safety only came when refugees showed up, informing Saurtobi of Uzushio's demise.

[dany-is-my-queen]

A Question Of Loyalty II

Rhaenyra Targaryen x reader, Alicent Hightower x reader

Word count: 6.8k

Note: First of all, I cannot thank all of you guys enough for the love you’ve given to this story. To be completely honest, I don’t know how many chapters are left, maybe 2, maybe even 4. After the 1 season of House of The Dragon ended, I’m in blank really. I’m currently reading Fire & Blood, where “The storm broke and the dragons danced”. So, I don’t want to spoil you, therefore I’m unsure on how much to include in futures chaps… I already have a few ideas though, solid ones that you’ll read soon. Anyways, sorry for my rambling lol. Enjoy! These are flashbacks, to give context of what occurred before the part I.

Part 1

Summary: When dragons of green and dragons of black dance, you have to choose the color that suits you best.

Oh how you rejoiced in taking off to the mountain tops to liberate your mind for a while. You didn’t take after your father, not being a big fan of the sea and sailing, instead, you fell in love with the skies. Silverwing was the best dragon you could ever dream for. Not having hatched one of your own, unlike Laenor, you claimed the she-dragon when you were only nine, you almost gave Rhaenys a heart attack when she was told you’ve been seen soaring the skies atop of her. “Your great grandmother would be proud. But don’t be hot-headed, Y/N.” The Queen Who Never Was remarked. You wore a grin of satisfaction when your mother praised you.

You admired Queen Alysanne, you’ve read all about her contribution to the Realm in the ruling of her husband, King Jaehaerys I, therefore, you aspired to become like her, that’s why you gathered the courage to mount the silvery beast. She was relatively docile and friendly to strangers, so it was natural the bond that bloomed between you.

You lodged in King’s Landing since then, with Silverwing residing in the Dragon Pit with the rest of the dragons.

“Care to join me for a ride, cousin?” Rhaenyra offered beaming.

“Today is your nameday, my Princess. Do you want to spend it with me?” Rhaenyra was turning ten and five, you were the same age and that aided you to feel comfortable around one another. And you found common ground on flying. She nodded eagerly, grabbing gently your forearm.

“Nothing would make me happier.”

How could you refuse the Princess of the Kingdom? You were being reckless and selfish, to say the least. King Viserys and Queen Aemma were hosting a huge feast and jousting to celebrate the “Realm’s Delight”, but she had other plans in mind. You tagged along without a second thought.

“Where are we going?” You asked once you were ready to take depart.

“Home.”

Dragonstone was a short flight from the Capital, the dank island was forsaken, except for a dozen servants that kept the Castle in good conditions. You landed ashore, unsure on why Rhaenyra would want to be there.

“We could move here. Just the two of us.” The Princess’s voice unwavering. You modestly chuckled. After all, it is rightfully mine”

“It would get a bit lonely, don’t you agree?” You demurred, she shook her head.

“Not really, we have Syrax and Silverwing. They can keep us company.”

“Would that suffice, my Princess?” She looked you straight in the eye, you had never felt so intimate with anyone before.

“It would, for me. I’ll never be the son my father so desperately seeks. There’s no place for me there. Not one that will lead me to a happy ending.” The confession staggered your heart, the princess felt so alone, so isolated, under the shadow of an unborn male child. “We could visit Driftmark from time to time. I know you’d miss your family.” She insisted, you contemplated this absurd notion for a minute.

“What about Alicent?”

“What about her?”

“Wouldn’t you miss her?”

“Would you?”

“Yes. She’s our friend.”

“She’s way too dutiful. She will marry soon and forget about us.”

“You reckon?”

“We could do as we pleased here. I needn’t worry about you marrying some fat Lord. We could wed instead, I’ve read about the ancient Valyrian ceremonies. I would make you happy.” There was no malice, nor ambition, solely innocence and hope. You were bewildered, couldn’t believe what Rhaenyra was professing, she was not jesting. Her stomach knotted, worried you’d look at her with disgust, but you cupped her face in your hands. The moonlight shone on the water and on her blue eyes. Rhaenyra has never looked more beautiful, her hair waving gracefully in the blowing wind, her lips so inviting, flushed cheeks.

The naive, ingenious part of you wanted to seal your consent with a fiery kiss, your first kiss. To affirm to her that you would marry her to the tradition of your Houses. Then that vision faded in your mind, she was the Princess, the only child of the King & Queen. That hunch… telling you she was destined for something greater than breaking the rules and committing this kind of madness. It could never be.

“Nyke’m isse jorrāelagon rūsīr ao. (I’m in love with you) Even if for some bizarre reason my father decided to make me his pronounced heir. I would give it up, I’d give everything up to be with you. In a heartbeat.” In this moment in time, Rhaenyra bared her deepest desires and dreams to you. Despite this, you balked off. Fixing your coat and climbing on Silverwing before she could stop you, dodging her face. This was the right thing to do, the wise action. They wouldn’t let you be together, she was more than you deserved. You felt like an absolute coward, you were. The silver dragon flapped her wings into the night sky, heading back to King’s Landing.

Syrax hopelessly yowled. Which meant she was feeling her rider's heartache.

**********

There are days… where you find yourself wishing you had said yes to Rhaenyra, to had carried on with her unhinged proposal. Your parents haven’t urged you to get married, for which you were grateful for. After the incident with the Princess at Dragonstone, you grew asunder. She avoided you like the plague, barely granting you a word when in the same space. Whereas with Lady Alicent, you only grew closer. You enjoyed her company, and making her laugh.

“Do you get homesick?” Alicent asked while reading a book with you laying on her lap.

“Of course. Being apart from my siblings is hard. But being here allows me to spend time with you. That’s a fair exchange.” You missed the way Alicent blushed. “Do you?”

“Yes, I miss my brother Gwayne. My cousins. Hightower was warmer… I felt closer to the Gods. And to my mother.” You knew she still had a difficult time recalling the demise of her mother.

“Let’s pay a visit to Oldtown then.” You bluntly suggested, attempting to lift her spirts. Alicent giggled.

“It’s a prolonged way from the Keep. It’d take months… my father won’t let me be absent for that long.”

“Lucky for you. I happen to know someone who could take us there in no time.” You smirked, Alicent understanding now who your carriage was.

“Y/N, are you out of your mind! I would fall off Silverwing somewhere across the Roseroad and my body would never be located.” You chuckled at her overemphasis more so cause she possessed a serious look on her delicate features.

“Don’t be dramatic, Alicent. You’d be clutching my waist the entire flight. I’ll have the dragon keepers saddle her properly for your safety. It would be an unforgettable quest. C’mon, my lady. Picture it, instead of reading old tales and histories we can have an experience of our own. We can even make a quick stop on Highgarden, have you been there?” Alicent did want to go, it felt like a lifetime opportunity. If only she wasn’t terrified of mounting a dragon…

“The many rivers, the canal crisscross and its cobbled streets, the breathtaking mansions. I wish to see the place where you grew up. Please?”

It didn’t take much to convince Alicent, she was surprised herself. She was willing to overcome her fear for those beasts… if it meant to share this voyage with you.

Alicent approached your dragon with dread creeping in. “Touch her.” You encouraged her, she delayed, you guided her fingers to the long neck of Silverwing.

“Promise me if I die you’ll say to my family that I’m sorry and that I love them.” Alicent quipped but did mean it. You pressed a peck to her temple to soothe her.

“I’d never let anything happen to you.” That was all the reassurance Alicent needed.

“May I?” You asked gently.

“You may.” You helped her climb, following behind, she cleaved steady your lower back. “I still don’t know how I persuaded my father to let me go.”

“He was in a good mood, I guess. Now, don’t make a hasty move cause if you do Silverwing might toss us away by accident.” You tried to feign a serious tone. She stiffened and tighten her grip, you bursted out laughing again and she nudged you softly.

“Y/N! Don’t tease.”

“Sorry sorry. You’re stuck with me. Sōvēs, Silverwing!” The ride to her home was pure bliss. She never would have wager that she’d enjoy riding in dragonback. She wasn’t sure if it was the thrill of it or the mere fact that you were the one with her. That was the very journey that showed her what true love felt like. Disguised as adventurous friendship, she realized she was head over heels for you.

**********

It hasn't been long since you returned to the Capital from your excursion with Lady Alicent. You sat next to her at the tournaments, this time celebrating the upcoming birth of the King's first son. Rhaenyra watched you from her seat. You felt quite uncomfortable, more so because that fire inside you kept burning wildly whenever she was around. There was a new knight in town, Criston Cole, you overheard, the Realm’s Delight seemed smitten by him, and you suddenly felt sick, jealousy twisting in, you paid no attention, Alicent was gossiping about the other participants.

Queen Aemma died in childbirth, you wished you were there for Rhaenyra, but she built her walls higher than they have ever been.

Rhaenyra was proclaimed heir by the King, as you once suspect it would happen. She’s destined for greater things. The same tape replaying in your head. The Lords from all across the Kingdoms swore fealty to her, your House among them.

A few moons passed and Alicent was betrothed to the King, news that surprised Rhaenyra, though not you. It relieved you, for he wasn’t to take you nor little Laena to wife. Alicent has told you about her private visits to Viserys, solemnly swearing it was his father’s goal all along.

“My interest for men is as dull as dishwater.” She commented one day. Gaining your curiosity.

“Whatever do you mean? I know you desire not to marry him. Does that…-“

“I’m not going to elaborate. Just… remember this. I will always be yours.”

“Wha-“

“I need to prepare. See you at the ceremony, lady Y/N.” She ran out, leaving you very, very confused.

**********

It’s been four years since the royal wedding. Four years since you decided to leave court to be with your family and stop pondering about her, or rather, about them. Then proceeded to head for the fighting on the Stepstones, aiming to bring some help to your father and brother, only to be dismissed upon your arrival. You argued with your sire at the Valeryon camp on Dwarfstone. “No, Y/N. Not a chance.” Corlys rejected you. There was no bargain on the table. “This is no playground, no training yard. This is a dangerous zone. I cannot and will not risk your life.”

“But father- my dragon can make the difference, I’m capable of fighting as well-“

“I know, sweet daughter. I know you are. Even more capable than half my men here, but you are no soldier, Y/N. You have no practice in these things. I would never forgive myself if anything were to happen while you’re in this bloodshed.” Your father finished explaining his concern. You were upset about it, by all means. How were you to learn if not by being in an actual war.

That didn’t halt you though. Laenor disagreed at the beginning. Unhappy to oblige to your request, you implored for his help on this one. And so he gave it. He unfolded the plan of supposedly surrender to the Crabfeeder and the Triarchy, proposing a desperate gambit, using Daemon as bait to lure the Crabfeeder's forces into the open to eliminate them all at once. “Gods be good, if father kills me after this, know that it’ll be on you.”

You ready yourself, locating on the top of the highest peak, standing by until further signal from Laenor.

It was time when you spotted Seasmoke emerged. You trailed behind them, setting ablaze the Triarchy soldiers astride Silverwing, wiping out the archers overlooking the battlefield. A lost arrow almost hitting you, you dodged it effectively. As they forced reel, Corlys and Vaemond leaded a brutal counterattack against the enemy, while Daemon pursued Drahar into the caves. As the Velaryon forces claimed victory, Daemon dragged the upper half of Drahar's bisected corpse behind him. Your father’s vassals gazed upon the skies to find you and your she-dragon roaring with strength.

**********

You were back at Driftmark. Your father scolded you, and Laenor. But it was worth it, you knew deep down he was proud of you. Quite the woman you were becoming, what did you need a husband for?

Your mother welcomed you with a hug that lasted for hours, she also reprimanded you though, “Still hot-headed.” And Laena hugged you as well. “I can’t believe you went off to war to escape your feelings from a certain Targaryen princess.” Your sister hissed, mocking you.

“I can’t believe you claimed Vhagar.” She smiled warmly at you. “I’ve missed you, little sister.”

“So have I.” Then you proceeded to visit your dragons.

**********

“Rhaenyra flew in here weeks ago. You were on the Stepstones. She seemed to be in a hurry. Like she sought rescue.” Laena nonchalantly depicted. Why would she?

“What did she want?”

“Other than to say hello to her favorite cousin, I have no idea. She said something about the King organizing a tour for her with the most noble lords in the Realm. At this time, she is to continue holding audiences for her hand in marriage.”

“Oh?” Rhaenyra on the search for a husband… that didn’t sit well with you.

“She’s to be here too.” The youngest Valeryon added.

“I doubt that she’ll find her golden knight here.” You scoffed, you couldn’t face her, not yet. “However, none of my business.” Laena looked at you incredulously but didn’t push it. “I will go to King’s Landing to check on the Queen. I didn’t even say goodbye the last time. Accompany me?”

“I’d love to, but I don’t want to leave mother. And you will surely be wrapped up.”

“Off with me then.” You said your farewells to your parents & siblings and set your route to the Capital.

**********

It was perfect timing, you thought. The Princess was touring the Realm, therefore she wouldn’t be any near the Keep, you could visit Alicent without fretting of seeing Rhaenyra.

You still loved her, that was very much true. It was different now though… you felt braver than you did those days back in Dragonstone when you fled and abandoned her. You owe an apology, to both of them really. “I’ll always be yours.” What did Alicent mean with that? Always be your best friend? Did she was enamored by you? Was that another reason for the girls to be in odds with one another? Were you to blame?

You arrived at the gates of the castle, you were nervous but masked it pretty well, then proceeded to greet the King, “Lady Y/N! So good to have you back. Your non-appearance hasn’t gone unnoticed.” Viserys hospitably welcomed you.

“Thank you, your Grace. I’ve missed it as badly. How’s Princess Rhaenyra?”

“She’s… disobeying me as usual. Don’t know if you are aware but we arranged a tour for her to choose her own consort. Yet she came back earlier than scheduled, moons for it to be over.” You opened your eyes in realization of what that meant, fortunately Viserys didn’t notice it.

“I see, your grace. That sounds a lot like her.”

“You’ve grown distant. That saddens me. Since her fifteenth nameday she’s hasn’t been the same, she’s upset and depressed. Perhaps you could rekindle your relation with her now that you’re both around.” He encouraged you, you played the part.

“You’re right, you’re Grace. That would warm my heart, hopefully hers too.” Rhaenyra did remember what happened that evening, it still burdened her, guilt swamping all over.

The tide was set the other way around. But you longed to see her, them.

Daemon was there, as expected. And you were invited to the gathering held in the goodswood to the younger prince’s honor. The King got somewhat drunk, and was sharing stories of his teenage years along with Daemon, who had a smirk on his face. The Queen and the Princess were there as well.

“Oh lady Y/N. Glad you could join us.” Viserys alluded to you in such an effortless manner, you approached them, situating in between him and Rhaenyra. “You know, this is also for you. I heard about your bravery on the latest war. You did brought fire and blood to the enemy. What is it you want as a reward for your courage? Never would expect you were a warrior but you are very much like your sire Lord Corlys.” Daemon sniggered under his teeth, and Alicent was blowed.

“It is not glory I’m after, nor a reward, your Grace. But I truly appreciate your nice words.”

“How modest. You’re one of a kind, my lady. Lucky the man that gets to keep you.”

“Yes, indeed very lucky.” Daemon mocked. You paid no mind. Viserys spoke again. Did the prince was always this annoying?

“My lady wife has told me about the trip you once ventured in together. Wandering the skies on dragonback. If I had a dragon myself, I could take her on a similar adventure. Just like my grandparents once did.”

“Yes, husband. I had a great time with lady Y/N. We visited the Citadel also, it was magical. I cherish it dearly.” Alicent reminisced fondly, so did you. The Princess shifted awkwardly.

“If you excuse me, I’ll go see the new tapestries displayed in the gallery.” She excused herself and dashed from you. Daemon tracking after her.

Shortly after, you requested to speak to the Queen alone.

“Before I start apologizing, let my tell you. You look stunning in that dress.”

“I was not sure that the Targaryen colors would fit me.” Alicent bashfully answered the compliment. You admired her under the afterglow.

“They certainly do. Red and black highlight your skin, your Grace.” She was as red as the morning sun, feeling like lady Alicent Hightower again, not “The Queen.”

“You flatter me. But what is that that I heard that you went to war? You didn’t even say goodbye, Y/N. I was left alone.” You felt bad, too selfish really to stick around Alicent’s side, but living in the same place that the silver-head was way too intoxicating, you wagered she hated you, not realizing you had hurt Her Grace along the way. “I…- realized that I have few friends lately.”

“I’m sorry, Alicent. I needed time away from court and also, you had your duties. Tending to the King, looking after your children. I can’t wait to meet the little princelings.” She softened, albeit, it was true, she had limited time to spare yet she would have found it for you.

“It’s okay, Y/N. You came back.”

“The King requests your presence, my Queen.” Rhaenyra declared, faking a courtesy.

“Thank you, stepdaughter.” She barely spared a glance to the Princess. “We will resume our conversation later.” You bowed and she was gone. Rhaenyra was walking away from you.

“Princess… may I speak with you for a minute?” You attempted. Rhaenyra didn’t stop her pace. “Rhaenyra.”

“My uncle is waiting for me.”

“How long are you going to ignore me?” The question coming more like an accusation. She turned around.

“I? You were the one that brushed me aside years ago. You didn’t care about seeking me out. You then left the city. You return and launch into her arms first. I do not owe you anything, Y/N” You didn’t have a reply, for it was the truth.

You did jilt her, and she was far from being over it. But you fairly did leave because you loved her, more than your heart could admit, and the fact that you couldn't be with her was too much to bear. Little did you know that that was all she wanted, even though you spurned her once you were younger, she still wished to court you, woo you. You were dying to tell her she swept you off your feet a long while back.

A big terrible lack of communication set your paradise ablaze, the two of you burned and turned to cinders, but… where there were fire, ashes remain, right? You were a wine stained gown, one Rhaenyra could no longer wear.

**********

Did Rhaenyra resented you? Or did she harbored her old feelings for you? She was a mystery, one you wanted to unravel. You love her, not past tense. You love her in the present.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t resume your talk with Her Grace, a servant girl came shyly to inform you that she was nursing her newborn daughter Haelena, and later the King might “need” her. You didn’t dwell on the last part, as it was a duty she had, yet in her face was written her distaste for her obligations.

Later that evening you derived in a lengthen bath. You lit up some candles, wrote a couple of letters meant for Driftmark and leaned on the big window frame that had a gorgeous view of the city. The Dragonpit and the Sept could be spotted from there. Averting your thoughts as far as possible from the Targaryen Princess, to no avail, then back to the young Queen, “Alicent must be exhausted, the King ought to let her have a break” you pondered.

When slumber was finally kicking in, all of the sudden, you listened loud thumps on your door, it startled you. One, two, three times in a row. You rose and unlocked it to find the culprit of your insomnia. The Princess was wearing common page-boy’s clothes. Her hair was messy, her lips slightly swallowed? She was trying to catch her breath.

“Ummh…-“ She studied you for a lingering moment.

“Are you not going to let me through?” You stepped aside while you closed the door. Puzzled and doubtful of her abrupt appearance.

“The hour is quite late, Princess. Are you lost?” You cursed and cringed at the dumb question you had just made. “Are you tipsy? And why are you wearing that?” Rhaenyra seemed overwhelmed by your interrogation.

“Nyke’ve missed ao, ao kostagon’t imagine skorkydoso olvie.” (I’ve missed you, you cannot imagine how much) The Realm’s Delight blunted out, you hardened. It does something to you when she starts speaking in Valyrian… “Skoro syt haven’t ao sought issa hen? (Why haven’t you sought me out?) Ao jikagon naejot zȳhon, se dōrī rūsīr issa. Skoro syt?” (You go to her, and not to me. Why?) Rhaenyra inquired with bitterness in her airing. You focused on your feet, a coward you were.

“Nyke…-“ (I…) What the hell were you suppose to say? She horned in, stepping closer to you. The atmosphere growing thicker and thicker.

“Ao fucking gūrotan zȳhon isse Silverwing. (You fucking took her on Silverwing) She snarled. Gaomagon ao jorrāelagon zȳhon?” (Do you love her?) Mere inches from your mouth, Rhaenyra stood dangerously near, not being cautious at all. You were to give in. “Daor, ao don’t. Ao jorrāelagon issa.” (No, you don’t. You love me) That was an statement. Her body was calling on you. You melted under her fiery, powerful gaze and grabbed onto dear life to her waist, splashing your lips with hers with pure desire.

Those embers rising from the dead, turning into raging flames. Rhaenyra shoved you roughly to your bed muttering no more word, she unbuttoned her shirt, removed your own garments just as rapidly, you were now completely naked.

“Take off my pants.” She commanded, you unfastened the zip and she climbed to your lap, tangling herself onto you, kissing you again. “I want your fingers inside me, your mouth, I want you.” She impeled, a wild animal ready to attack their prey. “I need you.”

Rhaenyra mentioned nothing about loving you that night, nothing about running away together or anything of the sort. Her hunger and thirst for you the only things present in that room. She was intoxicating, addicting, all your cares in the world gone once you were inside her and she you. Nothing else mattered.

You’ve been up in the clouds with her, and now you understood what it felt like to be consumed by dragon fire.

**********

The aftermath of such events have not left consequences, but what you learned afterwards stirred your feels.

In the morrow, the sun rays were making their way in, you found a small letter under your pillow, you unfolded it and peeped at Rhaenyra’s fancy handwriting. “Rhaenagon issa rȳ Rhaeny’s Hill, nyke jaelagon naejot show ao mirros.” (Meet me at Rhaeny’s Hill, I want to show you something)

You were beyond content for the night prior, Rhaenyra was all you ever wanted, the love of your life, you naively convinced yourself. Mayhaps this time around you could declare your love, flee to Dragonstone and wed. Fuck them all, you thought. We will make our stand if anyone should dare oppose. Surely she would leave it all behind, like she said those years ago.

There was already another potential heir, Aegon, Alicent’s son would be accepted, all Viserys had to do was change the proclamation. Rhaenyra and you could have your happy ending.

You were on your way to assemble with her, but halted on the way to glimpse at Rhaenyra and Alicent seemingly arguing. You’ve never been one to eavesdrop, yet curiosity got the best of you.

“What happened last night, Rhaenyra?” Alicent bluntly asked, she was taken aback. So were you. Alicent was angry no doubt. “My father made worrying allegations, that you’ve been with your uncle.”

“Well, yes. I haven’t seen him in years. We went out to have some fun in the city. What of it? Other than sneaking out of the castle and drinking wine. I did not do anything serious.”

“He said that you fucked Daemon in a pleasure house!” Alicent lowered her tone and curtly exclaimed, you made sense of the sentence. Your heart sank at it. Did she? she was with you…

“That is a vile accusation.” Rhaenyra retorted.

“You Targaryens do have queer costumes.”

“Daemon took me to several taverns, we got very drunk, yes. I wanted to go home but he wished to continue. He was my escort and without him I couldn’t head back, we ended up in a brothel, we did see a show there but I was solely a spectator. Then he ran off with some whore therefore I had to make my way to the Keep on my own anyway.” She concluded by embellishing word-for-word that "Daemon never touched her" at all and swore this on her mother's memory. If that was the version she had explained to you, would you actually believe it? Nothing else happened… Something was amiss.

“How do you think Y/N will react to these news?”

“She need not to find out.” Rhaenyra was now… planning on deliberating keeping secrets from you. Not from your protection but to save face. She went to you the way she did, because she WAS to have sex with Daemon but he got cold feet, so she then went to her alternative, to satisfy her own needs, ones aroused by another person? Your eyes were welling with sour tears. You were only a second choice, she didn’t miss you, she didn’t even love you anymore. You were merely a vessel, one she needed to find release, no love was involved.

“Why do you keep behaving like this, after me and the King have strived to find you a good, suitable match, you go putting yourself in a position where your virtue could be call into question. Spitting the ones that care?”

You ran off, unable to keep listening to the bickering, you climbed onto your dragon as fast as you could, shrugging off the one belonging to the culprit of your crying. You didn’t show to the Hill, for obvious reasons. Leaving Rhaenyra waiting until sundown with your favorite flowers and the same unhinged proposal.

**********

A couple of days have passed and you barely have spent time in the castle, instead riding all day. Alicent haven’t told you what she has learned, yet the rumors were all around like flies. You knew she didn’t because she was trying to shield you, to spare you the pain, not to save Rhaenyra of shame.

On the the third day since the conversation between them, it was announced that you would be traveling to High Tide, to propose the marriage between your brother Laenor and Rhaenyra. It hasn’t even been a week yet and now this? Rhaenyra was becoming your sister? The Gods were being cruel to you, punishing you for your sins, most likely. You knew of Laenor’s nature, as he did yours. As a matter of fact, your parents also knew, Corlys only to waved it off describing them as “phases”.

Lord Lyonel Strong has been made the new Hand of the King, surely Rhaenyra had Ser Otto dismissed from his rank for filling her father’s ears with his denouncements. He has always been calculated, he wants a Hightower on the throne.

It was good to be back, home always offering some fresh air. Laena politely invited the guests in, in the courtyard was Laenor with Ser Joffrey Lonmouth, a good friend of yours too, and his closest “companion”. You hugged them tightly, no welcoming party for your father was one to hold grudges, since the King rejected both his offers to marry their daughters a rift has been set between House Velaryon and the Iron Throne, you never would have wed His Grace though, thanks the heavens he didn’t persuade it nor ponder about the it too much.

“It is so rare to see you on a boat.” Your mother jested. “You never grant Silverwing a break.” You tittered warmly.

“Wherever has Laena gone to?”

“She’s with Rhaenyra. They’re having breakfast. Wanna join them?”

“No, no. It’s fine, I’m not hungry. How’s Meleys?” You shifted awkwardly and changed the subject, staring at the sea.

“Are you okay, daughter?” She looked at you expectantly. “I know that your love for her runs deep. I’m your mother, dear. A mother knows her children’s heart. Don’t shun your emotions, my darling girl. There’s nothing to be embarrass of. This is what’s best for our Houses, for the Realm. Your brother will do a good consort, your father may take advantage for his pride, know that I do not. I care about your happiness as well, you’ll find a pretty lady, or a maiden, you’ll find someone for you to spend your life with. That in my bones I know. And your mother will support you no matter what.” Rhaenys embraced you firmly, pecking your forehead. How lucky you were to have her.

Laenor encountered you nearby the beach. He approached you.

“I’m not enthusiastic for this marriage, Y/N. Not more than you, or her. It does not mean anything, I have just talked to her… we’ve come to a mutual arrangement; we will perform our duty for our families, produce heirs… but otherwise we will both continue having our own private romantic relationships. It will be hard, painful even. I am sorry, Y/N, so so sorry.”

“If I was a man, I could wed her instead of you. Everything would be perfect. Everything. A secret behind close doors…- I don’t know if I can do it.”

“Joffrey agreed to it. Better than nothing, better to lose you. She is very keen to you, she claimed to love somebody, genuinely… she did not say who. But she assured it, she was referring to you, Y/N.”

“It is not your fault, Laenor. I… I’m doomed to feel the way I do. I wish I could get over her and go on with my life.” There was resentment in your voice, hurt.

He gave you an apologetic smile, and squeezed your hand in a comforting manner. You would care not for the Throne nor political station, but for taking her to wife, a sad, sad reality.

**********

You were prepared to set sail, this time your whole family attending the latest royal wedding. You couldn’t find sleep as usual and headed to the balcony of the castle. A turmoil, one you so wretchedly wanted to get rid of.

“You are very, very elusive, my lady.” Rhaenyra’s voice startled you, your only exit was jumping off the cliff. “I’ve been trying to locate you.”

“Princess.” Again, she looked gorgeous, her hair down on her shoulders.

“You didn’t show up. Are we back here again?” We shared that night together, we were one. And yet… I’m once more a stranger to you?” She spat, wounded by your actions as if you were the one to blame.

“You got what you wanted, Rhaenyra. You have no use for me now.”

“What? What are you talking about? I need you, Y/N. Now more than ever.” She strolled closer, attempting to caress you. You deflected, her touch would only ignite a further wildfire.

“You needed somebody to fuck with!”

“Has Alicent uttered her gossips again? She does that to tear us apart, she’s always aiming for that.”

“No, Rhaenyra. Alicent has nothing to do with this, drop it.”

“My lady… I’m so confused right now. I came to you because I did miss you, we were separated for too long it was time we reconciled. I still want you, Y/N. As much as I did when we were fifteen. Things have changed, I’m the heir to the Throne, I’m to marry your brother, who would have visualized any of this? There’s a role I got to fulfill now, something that’s bigger than both of us. But that does not mean that we cannot still be intimate, I spoke to Laenor about it and he’s agreed.”

“You want me as what, as a lover? A friend? A companion? A whore?” The last noun was a whack to Rhaenyra, a punch to her heart and an insult to her alone.

“You’re unbelievable.” She stormed out from the rooftop, leaving you sniveling, for the hundredth time.

**********

The long-awaited royal wedding ceremonies finally began; first a grand feast in the Red Keep, to be followed by seven days of tournaments and spectacle, culminating with the marriage ceremony. The Velaryons arrived on their dragons, Laenor on Seasmoke, Laena on the older Vaghar, and your mother Rhaenys on the Red Queen, Meleys. Meanwhile, your father Corlys, yourself and the full Velaryon fleet rolled in the harbour, (Silverwing was nesting on the Dragonpit) as the city's bells tolled out to greeting you for the festivities. Alicent saluted you warmly, taking in your accent, you reciprocated.

At the Great Hall; Viserys and Rhaenyra sat at the middle of the high table set up in front of the throne's base and received each group of Lords with their respective families. You decided to contrast your sibling’s outfits by wearing an imposing golden dress. At the high table you sat beside Rhaenys and Laena. Daemon appeared out of nowhere, but you paid no heed to him.

Shortly after, Alicent entered through the main doors, intentionally interrupting the King in the middle of his speech. She was dressing in a green gown, her features cold as ice.

You engaged in a cordial chat with some of the Tyrell acquaintances you’ve made while visting Highgarden, Rhaenyra and Laenor were on the dance floor sharing the first ball, couples following behind.

“May I have this dance, my lady?” The youngest son of Lord Tully submitted his hand to you, he was being a total gentleman, but the glare Rhaenyra sent his way shot to kill.

You flown graciously side by side to her, cursing your pace, she saw this a good opportunity to whisper with audacity; Issi ao naejot sagon bisa āeksio’s, līve pār? (Are you to be this lord’s whore, then?) Rhaenyra taunted you, thanks the Gods no one there understood Valyrian, you didn’t get the chance to defend yourself at her boldly rudeness when you were swapped to dance with Laenor.

“You’ll have dozens of suitors after my wedding, dear sister. I bet none of them will be as infatuated with you as the Green Queen herself.” You poked him softly, he chortled. From across the room, Alicent was staring at you in awe, she was drooling and she care not to camouflage it.

However, you got distracted when you observed Rhaenyra and Daemon speaking to one another awfully close, it angered you, how dare them? Your blood boiling ever hotter when he grabbed harshly her cheeks, in an attempt to kiss her. The entire Hall was interrupted by a piercing cry from a different part of the feast floor.

A brawl has broken out in the packed room, but it became clear that at the center of it Criston Cole has begun pummeling Joffrey Lonmouth. Your brother managed to struggle his way through to them and tackled Criston off Joffrey, but Criston rose and punched out Laenor, resuming his aggressive punches. You watched from afar, having reached the high table, you spotted Rhaenyra being carried in the arms of Harwin Strong, you sighed but worried for your brother. That fucker murdered your brother’s lover and no one did nothing to seize him.

As the result of it, some hours later, all of the guests have been ordered out and King Viserys has cancelled the seven days of festivities and games leading to the wedding ceremony. Instead, determined to finish this as quickly as possible, Viserys called in the High Septon to wed Rhaenyra and Laenor in a private exchange of vows in front of their respective parents and close advisors, you among them of course, too shocked for the queer behavior of that “knight” (if he can be considered as that anymore). They were proclaimed husband and wife, Rhaenyra pretended you were not there, your heart breaking for the whole situation, and for the loss of your friend and your brother’s paramount. Alicent in the other corner with Viserys, he dropped to the floor in a full faint. They are not to consummate their marriage tonight, that was unquestionable.

**********

You felt nauseous, tossing and turning, you wanted to go flying but Silverwing was most certainly napping, you didn’t want to bother her just because you were a mess, again. The way Daemon and Rhaenyra were interacting with each other, you were repulsed by his fucking cockiness in her fucking wedding, her disrespectful and degrading comment. Recalling not so long ago she was in a brothel with him doing the Gods know what, jealousy, anger, sadness… all flooding you. And to make matters worse, she was officially married to Laenor, how were you to endure it? She didn’t fight for you, didn’t show you more than lust. It was too much, simply too much.

You got out of your chambers and found yourself on the Queen’s quarters, fortunately the King was beyond worn out from today to request her, you didn’t bother on waiting for Ser Harold to announce your presence, you shouted for her. “My Queen! My Queen!” You alarmed her and she was confused as to why would you be yelling her name this tardy.

“Ser Harold, you may go. Lady Y/N, come on in.” He did as instructed, you walked inside, she scowled, was she angry now too?

“Would you slap me if I were to kiss you right now, your Grace?” You cut to the chase. “May I?” Already breathing her in.

“You may.”

You pulled Alicent to you, pressed her mouth to yours, she was indeed mad, for Criston has told her he eavesdropped the night the accusation of the Princess and her uncle transpired, he longed for her as well, so out of range, by the brief chat he had with Ser Joffrey, and the constant rejection of the Princess, he had a breakdown. Alicent’s heart broke too, but in all honesty she saw it coming, she was only relived neither of you could get the other one with child, yet her hatred for Rhaenyra only grew darker. Alicent loathed Rhaenyra, but she did not despised you, on the contrary, she adored you with all her might, she was sick of being repressed by her feelings, by her “sins”, that she bursted and kissed you back like she’s never kissed anyone before.

She undressed more than her body to you, she demonstrated all the things she’s been feeling since you were on dragonback together, not a speck of regret in her. She was shy at first, way too unexperienced unlike the Princess, altogether she find out women are the only ones that make her feel this way. Never one of breaking vows, that night she stopped being a wife, a queen, she was a teenage girl making love with the one she loved, and you, you took her as she was, a mother of two, the consort of the King, a childhood friend. You were to discover your feelings for her, and it wasn’t like you were using her to get the Targaryen Princess out of your system… for it was impossible. It was all connected, but that night you made sure to reciprocate all that Alicent felt for you, and it wasn’t one sided at all.

[typhlonectes]

We finally reached 30,000 followers!

Hey y’all, I just wanted to say thank you so much for following the blog. I’ve had a big influx of followers lately, so I thought I’d re-introduce myself.

HI, I’m Paxon. I’m a wildlife biologist, and I work as a naturalist at a nature center in Houston, TX, USA. I’m cis-male, gay, and interested in a variety of leftist political philosophies. Trans-inclusionary intersectional feminist, vegetarian, ANTIFA, anti-racist, Latinx.

This is a science-natural history-wildlife-conservation-biodiversity blog (with some politics, philosophy, Pokémon, anime, poetry, punk, art, cats, gay stuff, naked guys, and other personal interests).  :3

____________________________________________________________

I’ve worked in wildlife science and environmental education since I was 17 years old (I’m 45 btw). My field experience includes:

bird surveys, 

small mammal surveys, 

deer counts, 

amphibian call counts, 

bayou fish surveys, 

reptile and amphibian surveys, 

insect surveys, 

Loggerhead sea turtle monitoring in Viginia Beach,

Piping Plover monitoring on Long Island, NY, 

shark surveys in Florida Bay, 

King Eider monitoring on the Arctic tundra of Alaska, 

Bluebird and Prothonotary Warbler nest box surveys, 

wetland plant monitoring, 

prairie and bayou restoration projects.

I’ve worked as a guide and naturalist here in Texas, Corkscrew Swamp in Florida, and at Sacha Lodge in the rainforest of Eastern Ecuador, near Yasuni. #SachaRuna 

I AM AN AVID BIRDWATCHER, and spend a lot of time hiking. My nature and outdoor interests include: herpetology, entomology (especially native bees, butterflies, moths, and beetles), malacology, native wildflowers, native wildscape/pollinator gardening, marine biology, and hiking.

I identify animals for people for a living, so if you have any nature questions, or would like me to ID animals for you, I’m here...

https://typhlonectes.tumblr.com/ask

I’m also here if you just wanna chat, say hi, or talk about something else.

Ciao, and thank you for following, I love you,

Paxon