#when the moon hatched if you were wondering :)

[boltlightning]

sometimes i feel silly spending so much time researching anachronisms so minor, no one will care if they're slightly wrong. but then i read a book that casually slips in a major anachronism in a bad way, and it breaks my respect for that book so bad that i DNF it, and remember that yeah there is someone who cares about minor anachronisms: me bitch

[jolalibrary]

under the stars

joel miller x f!reader | masterlist

summary: joel finds that you become a thing of unnatural order, all ethereal as the moonlight kisses your curves.

wordcount: 3.7k warnings: post outbreak. smut. oral sex (m receiving). tying joel up with rope. cutting joel free with a knife. p in v. jo's spelling. feelings, but joel-feelings. softer!joel an: i've had this in my head for so long, getting it down on a page has been the whole wonderful, exciting and exhausting thing. i could sing forever about the moon. thank you to the most wonderful, and amazing @swiftispunk who i threw this at last night and made me feel like i am a goddess of the moon.

Joel had learnt early on that you liked the night.

You’d handed it to him in puzzle pieces—flecks of information that he’d eventually be able to make a portrait out of. First, you’d handed him a story, then a statement and then a feeling.

The only times you didn’t like the night was when it was silent.

No wind in the trees, each branch crunching sounding for miles. You didn’t tell him with your words, but rather your body—frame closer, practically against him.

When he’d seen the abandoned train yard coming into view, he’d already considered it. The night had been closing in, the last embers of daylight casting shadows larger shadows across the tall, wiry grass.

“Ever stayed in a train?”

“Can’t say I have.”

He wonders a lot about the things you haven’t done. If you had a list of things you had hoped to tick off from a list before the world went to shit. Whether you had made a new one when you woke up one day and realised it was kill or be killed.

In another life, he wonders if you’d have been a nurse, a doctor, a baker or a typist—because there’s something about your hands. A soothingness about them wasted on holding a gun or slitting a hole in a person from jaw to pelvis. It’s something which passes over you more when the sun goes down. The sharpness in you fading, as though you truly become the thing you were always supposed to be when shrouded in night and the moon comes out to greet you.

He supposes the night is the constant. The unchanged force that arrived and vanished each day—a fixed point, a welcomed relief. Things don’t appear any more threatening in the dark, no more than the world was before.

Yet, Joel finds that you become a thing of unnatural order, all ethereal as the moonlight kisses your curves. It highlights the lines that bend, and illuminates the sheen which coats your skin as you stare back at him in gratitude, as though the way he makes you feel good can make up for all you were robbed of. He hopes to, not by being the thing you lie next to, but the thing which keeps you safe. A protector, a wall of muscle, bone and flesh that would rip if it meant keeping you whole.

It wouldn’t even matter if it were day or night.

Before it all happened, he’d never have considered that the night was more alive than the day. But he’d witnessed how it was. How the darkness provided by the sky was a gift, the moon licking shadows that added an illusion of safety, one he had used to his advantage.

Your words coaxing him, whispered, all hushed, we can take them—won’t even see us coming. You had been right. Staring up at the sky as you caught your breath, stars inside your eyes and a soul full of darkness.

As he glances over, you’re doing it now.

Peering up through the open hatch of the train roof, cross-legged, dragging his jacket further around your body as you stare, and stare, and stare.

Transfixed, lost. Kidnapped by memories, most likely, ones he won’t rip you from just yet.

He wonders if you had ever wished on them, ever stared up at them with hopefulness swimming in your eyes—their twinkle swirling in the pools of your gaze. Joel wonders whether you’d pleaded for something so hard under the night sky that your nails cut into your palms, only for everything to be robbed from you all the same. Had you ever seen a shooting star, and had you prayed on it for a future that included a white dress or a picket fence?

“Don’t they look so pretty, Joel?”

It falls from you like a whisper, almost innocent—far removed from the killer he knows you can be. From the gutless, powerful soul he sees rip through people when they make you spill crimson and try to take what isn’t theirs.

It’s almost easy, he thinks, to tell you that there’s something prettier next to him. Someone who could rival the prettiest of nights and the most gorgeous of days. Something that could have been fragile, but instead is strong, chaos imagined, all wrapped inside eyes he sees when he dreams.

Head tilting, you meet his gaze, and it’s too much—too strong. It's intoxicating. Feeling drunk off it—that feeling of normalcy you make him want.

“You ever had your cock sucked under the stars?”

You know he has.

Know that under leafless branches and an almost full moon you’d taken him in your mouth. All warm, welcoming—his fingers knotted on the back of your head, biting back each hiss, each grunt as he felt teardrops on the crease of his thighs and hips.

It doesn’t matter what his answer is, you’re already facing him, knees digging into the train floor. Your fingers already working his belt—a glimmer in your eye that has him half-hard already.

Because if lust had a look, he swears it would be you.

That look in your eyes always does something to him. It’s more than just being alive, it’s a glint, a spark of something that he swears would have had rows of people to their knees. Right now, it’s all for him. Only his.

A possessiveness rings through him at the thought; rising up in him when he lingers on it, that he has this with you—has this unlabelled thing where he sees all the shards of you, has met each part which makes you whole.

“I want you to try not touching,” you say, tongue dragging across your bottom lip, mouth close to his.

He wants to taste your request. Breathe it in. Have it merge with his insides, all because of the look that accompanies it. One that makes his jaw tighten, almost tick.

“You think you can do it, Miller? Think you can refrain from touching me until I say so.”

“Yeah,” he replies. “Sure.”

The latter catches on his teeth as the cool air brushes over his weeping cock once you free him from his clothing. Your head tilting, holding his stare as you lick a stripe up your palm, before wrapping it around him, pumping him. Tightening your fingers, murmuring about how hard he is for you, how thick he feels in your hand.

“We’ll see,” you smirk, pausing your ministrations, and lowering your head. "Fuck, your cock is perfect, Miller."

A retort brewed, ready to fire, shoot, land. Then, your mouth wraps around him.

Just the tip at first, pausing, all tentative. Your lashes close to your brows as you stare up at him—the moon painting you in a light which he swears he never thought possible. Because it only highlights the appetite you have for him, the starvation to take more of him.

It makes his fingers twitch at his side. Forces his thighs to tense under the need to grasp the back of your head. He refrains, even if it’s a battle he’s prepared to lose. In time.

For now, he wants more of this. Enjoy more of you licking the head of his cock, from humming around him, testing yourself as you try to take more of him, and more, and more—

A groan vibrates around him, making his eyes flutter closed. The battle having appeared sooner, slammed into him as you took more of him. Moaning sweetly around him, tongue swirling around the head when you come up before the tip hits the back of your throat all over again.

Joel doesn’t think of consequences, he just thinks of the need to feel himself in your throat. Letting his fingers move, slide around, brushing up your neck as you take as much of him as you can, mouth so stuffed—

“Hands, Miller.”

He groans, your tongue sliding up the base of him, lips hovering at the head before you trace your lips with him—those perfect, fucking lips—wiping him over you, smearing him.

“I’ll tie your hands down.”

His cock twitches, and you must notice from the way your brow arches, lifting up from him, bottom lip smothered in spit.

Joel finds most of the time, you have heavenly eyes and a hellish smile. A thing which shouldn’t remain, should have been stolen, ripped from you. Right now, you’re nothing but wickedness and darkness.

“Oh, Miller,” you say, voice lower, his name falling like silk. “Do you want me to tie you down? Stop you from touching me.”

He does.

A thing he doesn’t dare deny. His own eyes having caught sight of some frayed rope earlier, pointing it out, instructing—watching in awe as you move swiftly, boots hammering against the train floor, thudding and thudding until you’re on your knees either side of his, holding in both palms.

“Lie down.”

Your instruction carries weight, your body shifting as he lies down, your body crawling up him.

“Do it like—”

“You showed me?” you smirk. “I know how to keep you down, Miller.”

You lean back onto your knees, jean-covered cunt on his chest. Fuck what he’d do to move his hands from waiting for the circles of the knot you’re going to make—and pull you down to his mouth. Lets his breath puff warm air into the worn fabric, forcing it against your likely soaked core. Watch your lashes flutter as you try to make your identical loops, and see if you can think of overlapping them—whether you even make the knot, or let it fall to the wayside as you plead for his mouth, his tongue, his fucking teeth, before he manages to wriggle your clothing down your thighs.

He doesn’t find out, because he doesn’t move. Shadows disguise your expression, all except your smirk as you slide his wrists through the old rope—the frays tickling, brushing over his skin and hair, before with a pull, you tighten it—applying traction.

“Above your head,” you instruct.

You hinge at the hips, falling into the line of the moonlight. And, there’s a little gruffness to your voice, matching the pools of lust currently trying to swallow him whole—readying themselves to consume him, devour him. He doesn’t mind. He never fucking does.

Joel would willingly die in your eyes if he could—in the pair which sees him, all of him. Not afraid of the way he’s worn, the grief he carries, and the array of stories left in scars.

Best looking man I’ve ever killed for.

Only man you’ve killed for.

Fine. Best looking man I’ve laid my eyes on.

He’d succumb to you if you asked. More so, when you slide back down. The seam of your jeans brushing down his cock—the friction pleasant, warranted, needed.

He’s about to ask you to remove them. To bring yourself back up, allow him a taste, something to tide him over, reward you. He’d maybe even beg.

But, he swears your mouth is heaven. That he must have died mere moments ago. Each scrape of your teeth makes him hiss; each hollowing of your cheek makes him want to coat your tongue in his release. His fingers knot around the rope which binds him, hearing it trying to snap under the weight of his own frustration.

It cutting, grazing into flesh, especially as you take so much of him—further than you did before. Barely two fingers worth of him not down your throat, your eyes staring at him, holding his gaze, almost commanding it.

He pulls instinctually, wanting to grab the back of your head, hold you, stroke your neck, cheek—

But, then he ruts his hips into your mouth. Forcing a gag, a cough to arise from your perfect mouth.

“Careful,” he warns, as if it wasn't his doing. His eyes spot them, little streaks of tears which stain your cheeks, all quickly, tumbling and falling to his thighs. “Y’good for me. Fuckin’ perfect, in fact. But, be careful.”

Your tongue licks up the length of him, balls tightening as you graze your teeth over the underside—before he’s enveloped by you again, all warm, inviting, and then your throat squeezes around him.

He’s falling into it, the pool of pleasure—swimming it, bathed to the neck in it under stars and an almost full moon.

He’s sure your mouth is the meaning behind paradise and torture—both perfect and vicious—and he groans, at it. At the way, you swallow around him.

And he can’t take it.

Can’t handle it—

Wants nothing more than to come down your throat and make you taste him until morning.

Cause this is different than last time, and not because it's not a trunk his back is against. But, rather, because you're moon-soaked, kissed by the night. You're a thing he swears glows in the dark, leads a man to shore from choppy waters or could force a man to walk off a cliff.

You're pretty.

It's why he also wants to bury his cock inside you. Wants to feel you squeeze him, grasp for him, whine for him. You make him want, make him desire to possess you. Even if he'll never try to cage you, never tie you down, the thought, the wish, the desire is there. Just the same as how he wants to have you on top of him, under him, even bent over for him. Anything. Everything. All of it, all of you, all—

Mouth lifting off, your eyes glimmer, something there, growing behind your eyes. Spit tying you to him, a bead beginning at the tip of his leaking cock and ending at your swollen, puffed bottom lip.

Then you sneer. Devilishly, all fucking cunningly. “What did you think earlier, Miller?”

Hand taking him, wrapping it around as it moves in fluid motions. Grip how he likes it, a teasing speed that leaves him hovering there, so close to seeing a galaxy of his own and covering your face in his gratitude.

“Miller,” you mutter. "What, did you, think earlier?"

His throat goes dry, bone dry. Like those times when he hadn’t drunk for hours. And he pulls at the rope, wishing to tear himself free and silence your questioning by pushing you down, cheek to the side, sliding his cock inside you until you’re drunk on him, unable to think, ask.

He can feel his skin bruising, marks lacerating against flesh as he grunts at your knot. One he taught you, made you practice—something he knows you must remember from the wink you suddenly shoot him. And he knows from the smirk that cuts across your beautiful face, that the only way he’s going to get any release—is by telling you. Spilling the thing which should die in his throat, blacken, melt down into other things he’ll maybe one day tell you.

“If you want to come—“

Jaw gritting, he swears he could grind his teeth to dust.

Your hand remains poised, but not moving. His name leaves like a spell, but he knows it's draped in poison. Can tell from how it contaminates the air and makes him curse under its potency.

"Joel."

“Fine. I thought—thought y’prettier than the stars. Prettiest—fuck—” Your head dips, sliding the tip of your tongue along his slit, “—thing I’ve ever seen.”

Lifting up from him, bottom lip sliding across your upper lip—painting that in a mixture of his pre-come and your spit too—you slowly smile. “Wasn’t so hard now was it?”

Gritting his teeth, your breath ghosting over his mouth, eyes locked on him. Burying something light, warm, fucking lovely in his soul.

“Cut. Me. Free.”

Tilting your head, he sees your brow lift.

“Now.”

You blink, a thousand universes swirling in your eyes before you move for your knife. “Now?”

“Fuckin’ now, baby.”

You don't blink at the name, you just press the blade against his skin, so close to veins. Yet, he trusts you. More than he thought he would another person, another soul that wasn’t bound to his by blood.

Each slice of the blade against the rope cut through the air, his strangled breaths fading, even as his cock twitched, pleading for release. His eyes just remained on you—the maths of how he’d move you already calculated—watching the vein in your neck, the way spidery shadows cast on your face from your tear-stained lashes.

He felt the rope go slack before your knife stopped, moving in a flash, knife clattering as he flipped you onto your back. Hovering above, likely lit up by the stars and the moon—leering down on you, watching your chest rise and fall.

“So, you think I’m pretty?”

He growls, the button popped on your jeans before he rips them down as much as he can, moving enough to let you kick yourself free, before he plunges his tongue in your open mouth. Tasting, taking, robbing you of the words that you just spoke, the ones which made you cocky. Even if they were true.

But, he wasn’t good—was an animal, a thing carved from grief and the end of days. But then, you were in your own right too. Something that gnashed, scratched, and buried the softer parts of you deep under layers that had taken him months to unearth. To even find, locate.

The animal in you is what made him want to devour, but it was the softness that made him stand in front of you when branches crunched. It was the latter that made him want to pin you down against stiff surfaces and have you feel good, feel adored.

Taking his cock in hand, he drags the head against your soaked folds. Your slick coating him, sliding up and down, watching you, studying you—a sight full of stars, twinkling, pleading. Nails digging into his hips, an order, a demand.

In one thrust, he slides deep into you. Makes you his, like he does whenever you ask him to, when he can, each chance he can get. Never tiring of it, of you.

A thing he could say, fill your pretty little head with it and then fuck it outta you.

“Thinking about how much you like me, Miller?” you whisper, fingers moving up to scratch at his curls, to wrap them around your fingers. “Or, is it more than like, is that what it is?”

A tug, a swallowed groan. His mouth is on yours again—different than before.

A change, a thing the two of you never used to do, but one you do more frequently. Another thing he doesn’t hate. The change happened, and he realised he didn’t want to go back to the time before it. Not when your tongue plunged in his mouth feels good. When you lick at the back of his teeth, flooding his mouth with the taste of salt and remnants of the canned food from earlier.

“Thinking about how y’the most frustrating thing I’ve ever had under me.”

“Would you have it any other way?”

Buried to the hilt, fingers clasped around the space just above your collarbone, he stares into your eyes—wondering if the stars are ever jealous they never get to live in them.

No, he growls.

Your mouth falling open, a moan there, building on your tongue as he hits that spot—knows it, can tell from the way you lightly gasped. It is further evidenced by the way you grasp his hips, almost pinching when he drops onto his forearm above your head, freeing a hand.

“I do like fuckin’ y’under the stars.”

What began as a narrowing of your eyes, ended with a widening. The way it plays out could make him surrender to you every time, render him useless, even heal a shard of him that he thought was long since ruined.

Then, your mouth drops open, a moan emerging—rearing its head in an almost whine-filled cry, as he sticks a finger in, rolling it over your tongue, coating the pad of him in your spit before he slides his hand between your bodies.

And he knows you won’t last long. Not from the way you're clamping down, from the sounds you make—all beautiful, each rich, and fucking sweet. It’s why he drops his voice low, mouth to your ear, grunting your name, that you’re perfect, prettier than a sky full of stars—all the while drawing quick circles on your bundle of nerves, his hips maintaining a constant speed.

“Close, m’close,” you cry out, back arched into him, fingers finding refuge in his hair, face pinned by your forearms.

I know, he thinks, feeling you reach your pinnacle, hovering, hanging, before he delivers one quick thrust and you’re hurtling, spasming. Your body twists as your walls clench around him, coming on his cock, unravelling entirely as he picks up his speed, as he removes his hand from between you for leverage as he fucks into you. Just a few more, knees throbbing even through the pleasure, before his hips stutter, and he’s spilling inside of you, your name cutting into the air, scratching into it, marking it with each letter that makes it up.

Even before he collapses beside you, before breaths are caught, and your head finds that spot on his shoulder, that it’s coming. A look or your tone, that hint of gentleness you otherwise keep bottled up.

So he waits. Listen to the way your heart calms in your chest and your head feels heavy on his bone.

“Your secret is safe with me, Miller,” you whisper, not turning to look at him, just staring through the open hole of the train. “I won’t tell a soul you have a heart.”

Snorting, he swallows. “No one would believe ya if y’did.”

You hum, letting out a gentle breath.

And he just swallows the good he had almost whispered. Because if no one knows, it’s a thing people won’t try to take. And he can’t let you lose another thing, not when he’s sure the whole part of what remains of his heart, belongs to you.

an: hope you liked this. i am a whore for the moon and the stars.

[inf3ct3dd]

ACT 1. TROUBLE

summary: the plan hatches.

warnings: mentions of death, sex joke

wc: 3k

authors note: this fic has been my wonderfully niche vision for so long.... i hope you all enjoy

next chapter. masterlist

the unforgiving blaring heat of the desert was torturous.

the sun seemed to be beaming from right above, practically frying you and your companions skin as you treaded through the sand. one suffering the consequences worse than another, skin resembling a boiled lobster.

dry, chapped lips silently begging for water, only to be met with the sting of saltwater sweat dripping onto them. you can try to lick them away, but it will only worsen the pain. pain, your muscles ache and your bones feel as if they’ll crumble if you step forward once more. you needed…out.…of the heat……

ah, alas, a river! oh, how lovely, a quench to the terrible thirst…. you reach out towards it, cupping your hands to drink, and are met with the hot, cruel surface of a car door.

“are you done, r? you’re gonna set off the alarm.” ellie had destroyed your dramatic scene , rolling her eyes and slumping down on the concrete next to the car. her long ass jorts protected her skin from the heat of the ground.

“no, it can’t be! twas a mirage, my mind has fooled me!” draping a dramatic hand across your forehead, you’re met with a moist surface that you wipe away onto your shorts, falling next to the girl. your shorts however, did not protect you. you slightly hissed in pain, before bringing your knees to your chest.

“they shouldn’t have let you read othello. i think you’re actually going insane.” she bluntly remarks, offering you a light giggle.

your english teacher, honors english if you wanna brag, had just started a shakespeare unit, and you were over the moon. being the first to volunteer to read in class, writing your own gorgeous sonnets about even more gorgeous subjects , and torturing ellie with your constant chiming of “shall i compare thee to a midsummers day?”

“ugh, you hate to see a girl being theatrical.” with a quick roll of your eyes, you crossed your arms and pouted.

“yes, i do.”

ellie knew it wasn’t one of your actual sad pouts, like when she accidentally killed the snail you two found, but simply you being….theatrical. like your wonderful performance in the school musical last year, as sharpay in high school musical. was that fuckass blonde wig a disgrace? absolutely. but your wonderful acting skills distracted from it, or so you hoped.

“you know whats actually making me go insane? the fact that you made me walk to 7-11 in this heat!!! you tryna kill me?”

the taste of the slushy was still lingering in your mouth , along with the red color on your tounge, but the cold it brought was long gone.

“oh my lady, i would never do such a thing! but alas, i required a refreshment, and id hate to go alone.” ellie counters back in her own shitty-british accent , holding a hand to her chest.

“see, told you its fun.” you nudged her elbow with your own, sweaty limbs colliding with a gross “splat”.

“yeah yeah, whatever. you’re right about everything, my glorious queen-“

“indeed!” you interrupted, pout replaced with a cheeky smile.

you both sat for a second, catching your breath. your eyes wandered to ellies arms, and you noticed she had turned into a lobster. her arms were bright red and sunburnt, and you reached out to poke her.

“ow-fuck! why did you do that!!” she winced in pain, moving her arm away.

“jesus, why do you never put on sunscreen? you trying to get tan or something?”

“i didn’t think it would be this bad outside..”

“you’re stupid.”

“you’re mean..”

after a while of you both sitting in comfortable silence, both of your eyes fall on the vehicle across the street. it was the one thing you always loved staring at on this street. the ferrari was reflecting all the beams of ultraviolet hitting it, practically glowing in the humid hellscape. the dashboard and practically everything else was smothered in dust, the cause probably being its idle parking spot, same one it had been occupying since you and ellie were 5 years old. the black detailing and the shiny silver horse enchanted you, despite the cars mildly decrepit state. 13 years later, you wondered if it would even still run. wondered how the engine would feel rumbling underneath you as you pushed against the wind down the empty streets.

people always make driving seem so crazy and thrilling in movies. sharp turns, constant speeding, drifting, it was like the road was a rollercoaster. or maybe you had just watched too many fast and furious movies with your dad.

but every time you were in a car, you were calm. always having an arm out the window, sometimes waving your hand like the ocean, and others making finger legs and doing parkour off of the other cars. when it rained, especially at night, you’d always beg your dad to drive you around. you’d try to count the raindrops on the windshield , and often times you’d let the taps on the windows lull you to sleep.

you have many memories of your dad taking you on drives to get you to sleep. especially when you were younger, and didn’t want to go to bed because you ‘weren’t tired’. every time, he’d just say “you don’t have to sleep, just rest.” sometimes he’d sing the songs he burned onto his cds, other times he’d make lists of things you wanted to do the next day. but no matter what, within 10 minutes you were always out cold. most times he’d keep driving for a bit, just to make sure you were really sleeping, and then carry you as gently as possible up to your room.

now, you knew better than to try and make him carry you up the stairs. you’d have a dramatic stretch, and practically drag yourself to your house before flopping down on the couch. half of the time face first.

you never wanted to be the one driving, though. you didn’t trust yourself behind the wheel, thinking you’d get too relaxed and doze off the second you started driving. or get into a crash. every time you did bumper carts, you’d be the one annoying all the little kids by hitting them a thousand times with your car. plus, highways are scary as fuck.

but for some reason, every time you saw that car parked down your street, you imagined yourself behind the wheel. always with some of those cool ass driving gloves on, and the scorpion jacket ryan gosling had in drive. you’d drift like all those cool dudes in your dads movies, and never ever crash into anyone on the highway. you thought it was blessed with some spell that made everyone who drove it amazing at driving.

ellie had zero faith in you though.

“you’d total that thing in five seconds. do you not remember the last time you tried to drive?”

her rude remark reminded you of the “raspberry incident”, as you called it, from last summer. you were at your grandmas in the countryside, her in the passenger of her big ass suburban trying to teach you to drive in the raspberry fields. you had been pushing a bit hard on the gas a few times, making her tell you to “calm down” , but you were a damn good driver as far as you saw. but it allll went downhill when she made you practice turning. you had turned around one of the rows of berries perfectly, and you were driving a bit too fast to the next corner. but somehow, you turned on the wrong angle and drove straight into the berries. and to make things worse, you kept pushing the gas pedal on accident instead of the brakes. your grandma screaming at you to stop didn’t help much either. you had torn down no more than 1/5 of the row, but nothing happened to the car. a trip to the carwash and it was like nothing ever happened.

“that was soooo long ago. you weren’t even there either! what if i was just over exaggerating when i told you and it wasn’t that bad?”

“you calling yourself a liar?” ellie took a sip of her slushy. the one she made you take this whole treacherous journey for. she was somehow still nursing hers, while yours was in a trash can five blocks back.

“never. how are you still drinking that thing? we’ve been walking for like half an hour!” you grab the drink out of her hand, taking a sip for a biiit too long.

“hey! you can’t even ask? i spent my hard earned money on that thing.“

“oh please, it was only like 3 dollars. you sound like joel right now.”

you both chuckled. ellies dad acted just like yours, that’s probably why they’re such best friends. that and the two dead wives thing, they had a lot in common. and coincidentally, so did you and ellie. you knew each other since you came out of the womb. well, since you came out. ellie was there three weeks before you, and she never let you forget it. constantly on her “respect your elders” bullshit every time you punched her in the arm for stealing your food. you two were fighting over the same toys and blabbering to each other since birth. your parents were convinced you were some baby geniuses that had developed your own language with how much you ‘spoke’ to each other. you two always understood each other.

“whatever dude, i’d be a driving master in that thing. it’d probably be a total chick magnet too. i’d be cleaning that backseat every day.”

ellie poked you in the side at your joke, and you both shoved each other while you laughed.

“yeah, you and your spongebob boxers are definitely soooo seductive.”

“you can’t say shit, you have the matching patrick pair!”

almost half your closet was either clothes you took from ellies house, or ones you bought to match with her. your dad has a whole photo album of old pictures he took of you and her in your matching outfits. and you have a bin in the attic stacked to the brim with your matching halloween costumes. the one matching thing the two of you never took off was your necklaces. it was one of those basic hearts, two pieces of silver that fit together perfectly with “best friends” and an infinity sign engraved on it. you had begged your dad for it while you were at a beach store, and he reluctantly gave in. you had the ‘st ends’ side, and ellie had the ‘be fri’ one. no matter the occasion, even with the excessive amount of necklaces you always wore, that one was always a part of the stack. and ellie only ever wore the one. in fact, the only jewelry she ever wore was the bracelets you two had made for each other and her necklace.

“hey, they’re comfy! i love those things.”

“you know what i’d love?”

“deez nuts in your mouth??”

you slapped ellie on the arm , and she grabbed it in pain.

“fuck you! you know im sensitive right now!!”

“you’ll live. ANYWAYS, i was talking about the car.”

“pssht, who wouldn’t. who leaves a perfect 288 on the side of the road for this long?” ellies inner car-nerd spilled out,eyebrows furrowing in question.

you and ellie had dreamed of that car ever since you were barely taller than the side doors. pretending to drive it when she came over to yours, leaning against it as you ate your ice cream and accidentally setting off the alarm, even peering in through the windows occasionally. the white envelope with a small bulge always intrigued the two of you, desperately wondering what was inside of it. you’d never seen anyone get in or out of it, and you were surprised it lasted this long on this street.

“why’re you still on this anyway? its not like we’re gonna just steal it or something.”

when you stare back at her for a bit too long, she sighs at you and rolls her eyes. your dumb ideas almost always end horribly, and she wasn’t in for all that this summer.

like last year, when you two were working at this big outdoor restaurant. you had somehow convinced her to drive around one of the golf carts, and it ended with you accidentally ramming it into some dudes car. you both quit to avoid the guy, and you’ve never been back since.

“well, why not! i mean really ellie, I’ve seen you break into joels truck before. you could do it.”

it was an isolated incident. she had locked herself out of the car, and she used a random hanger she found in the mall parking lot to squeeze through the crack in the window and unlock the door.

“thats not the same as stealing some random car!!what if the dude who owns it is some mean gangster and he finds out we took his car and he fucking kills us??? or what if its full of a bunch of illegal shit and we get arrested while we’re driving it?”

“since when do you care this much about shit like that? you convinced me to keep a lizard in my closet for three weeks once. plus, do you really think anyone’s gonna come looking for it? that things been there longer than we’ve been alive.”

“even if we do steal it, what if it doesn’t even run anymore? and if it does, are we just gonna hotwire it every time we wanna drive?”

ellie was sadly thinking logically about this , and you weren’t having it. the pout on your face was growing bigger and bigger, and you rolled your eyes at her.

“you’re so boring.”

“im not boring, you’re just insane and impulsive.”

“besides, where would we even hide it? neither of us have a garage or anything.”

“you ask too many questions. come onnnn, this could be our little sappy senior year memory!! even if it goes like, totally wrong and we get arrested or some shit.”

you and ellies high school experience was..lackluster at most. no crazy adventures, no parties, no insane hookups, nothing. every movie about highschool you two had watched had completely lied to you, because it was boring as fuck. i mean, probably not for everyone else, but definitely for you two. this car would be a saving grace for you two, it could top off senior year perfectly.

“your idea of a great senior year memory is grand theft auto?”

“i mean, the games awesome. why not?”

she chuckled a bit at your bad joke, leaving a smile on your face. everything in her was telling her it was an awful idea, but you were giving her your most convincing puppy dog eyes, hands under your chin pleading to her.

you were amazing at persuading her, and the way your eyes practically sparkled when you spoke of even the mere idea of it sent her to the stars. how could she say no to you?

“…let me think about it.”

“WOOOO”

for ellie, ‘let me think about it’ was almost always code for yes. especially when it came to you. the two of you walked back to your house, ellie finally finishing her slushy. she chucked it in your garbage can before leaving you at your door. you tried to hug her goodbye, but she pushed you away.

“lobster skin. it still hurts. youll probably wanna hug me more tomorrow.”

and the next day, at 8:30, ellie showed up at your window with a toolbox smelling like aloe vera.

[themotherofblood]

On dancer reader, can we have some motherly moment between reader, Baela and Rhaena, with a little Daemon participation, please? (would love to read something about their relationship)

yes!! I love this idea, this is a little blurby. Also Daemon being a total girl dad!!

Masterlist | part one | part 2

There wasn’t a scarcity of children in the Old Palace, all your half sinblings, step siblings and even cousins filled every extravagant room the palace had to offer. Luckily, Daemon and your quarters were rather secluded, spacious marble floored rooms over looking The Sunset Sea, the orange hue of the dusk painted your chambers every evening.

This particular evening, Daemon had taken Baela dragon riding. Moondancer had finally grown large enough to be saddled, a shiny purple leather saddle with a gold moon pendant was worn by the young creature. The curtesy of his niece Rhaenyra, she gifted Daemon and by extension you, a clutch of eggs, four magnificently coloured orbs for the babe within you and the many more to come.

You had lounged out at the Mirrored Palace with your family, some painting away with the newest oil colours from Bravos, the others brawled with each other as you embroidered away a red tunic with gold threads. You hadn’t noticed until the hour of crow that Rhaena wasn’t amongst you. You excused yourself, trailing away at the gardens to find the little white haired beauty, instead you found her handmaidens who told you she was in her chambers.

“Rhaena?” You called out, her small frame sat by the lit hearth that held her egg for over a year now, and many more years elsewhere. You huffed, holding onto the chaise rests to lower yourself onto it. “What’s wrong darling?” You pet her head.

“I- I wonder if the egg for my sister would hatch,” she sulked, you knew this to be a sensitive subject for her, she placed her egg down and looked up at you apologetically for her abruptness. Both girls had firmly decided that the child within you would be a girl and then proceeded to pick an egg from the four Rhaenyra had sent.

“Maybe it will, maybe it won’t,” you smiled at her, patting the space next to you for her to sit as she cradled her egg. “I do not know much of dragons, I don’t understand it like you do, your father does.” You hugged your arms around her.

“What I do know is, the dragons do not make you who you are,” you stated, a truth you understood about your husband. Caraxes a mere extension of who he was and the fire within him.

“Father seems to think otherwise, everyone in our bloodline has one,” Rhaena pouted as she rest her head against your shoulder “even mother did.”

“That isn’t true, Rhaena,” you cooed “your father wants nothing more than to help you claim one some day, should you ask him he will tell you all the same.”

“Then why doesn’t he?” she questioned, her purple eyes filled with moisture, her bottom lip jutted out and darkened cheeks heated.

“kesrio syt iksā tolī byka,” Daemon’s voice rumbled from behind you, he stood leaning against the posts of the veranda, still in his riding clothes as he approached Rhaena. You are too little.

Rhaena appeared sheepish as she made space for Daemon before plopping herself onto his lap. “I’d rather you be little, chubby and alive rather than a dragon rider. I wasn’t one until I was nearly six summers older than you.” He tickled her tummy making her giggle before resting her head against his shoulder.

“I miss mother,” she reminisced making Daemon turn to you uneasily.

“Well,” you spoke up, pointing at the window where the skies had already darkened “when I miss mine own, I look at the stars.”

“The stars?” Rhaena looked confused.

“Look at them, think of Laena and pick a star that might appear to be her,” you smiled at her “that way, every night your mother can visit you.”

Rhaena looked for a moment, you could see her eyes darting all over before she picked one, her eyes softened “that one,” she whispered pointing at the star.

You later in the week had been met with crucial urgency as your handmaiden huffed, running to you about your husband. Daemon nearly loosing his mind at an ungodly hour in the morrow as he went to rouse Baela. She wanted to see the sun rise from high above the skies, he would have taken Rhaena along with him. He stroked Baela’s pretty hair to rouse her from the pouted dream she had been dreaming, Baela groaned and grumbled, burying herself further under the sheets “papa, no.” She whined as Daemon pulled her.

Instead of chuckling at Baela’s adorable protests, his gut filled with horror as his daughter’s bed was stained with blood. No, no- not his sweetling. He shook Baela harder this time to wake her, looking over her face and arms to find any sign of injury before yelling at the guards to fetch his you and the Maesters.

“Are you hurt? Baela, you must tell me what happened,” he urged her, Baela appeared confused until she saw the blood standing her night gown until she too mirrored her father’s terror.

“Papa, am I going to die?” Baela cried, her bottom lip wobbling. Daemon tried to remain calm as he shook his head, nothing would happen to his daughter. His urgency wasn’t met with enough speedy response, he grew impatient for the Maesters to arrive. “Everything will be fine,” he rocked Baela in his arms.

You burst through Baela’s bed chambers, huffing and cradling your bump as your took in the scene infront of you. The stained bed, the terror on Daemon and Baela’s face, the staining on the lower half of Baela’s nightgown. You shoulders slumped in relief as you slapped a hand over your thudding chest to calm your breathing.

“Daemon she is fine,” you calmly stated.

He began to look at you like madness had filled your head as he gestured to all the blood, how were you not loosing your mind. Merely weeks ago you pulled the entirety of the Old Palace upon your head when Baela cut her elbow from a fall. He shook his head, clutching Baela harder.

“Daemon, she’s flowering.” You sighed, trying to pull Baela away from his tight hold, she looked confused between the two of you.

Daemon frowned “she’s too young,” he shook his head once more, once again refusing to let his daughter go.

“I flowered at eight, she in nine.” you stressed, once again trying to pull Baela away as the Maesters finally came to the her chambers.

The two appeared worried until you spoke without looking at them, asking them to leave a essence of milk of the poppy behind. Baela’s handmaidens we’re ordered to draw a bath for the young girl. “Go on darling,” you nodded at her to clean up as they stripped her sheets.

Daemon still sat on the footrest, looking a little calmer than before as you came to stand in front of him. He groaned, resting his head against your belly before pressing two kisses to it over your robe. “She is fine, Daemon.” You reassured once more by squeezing his shoulder.

“I was so sure-“ he shook his head. “She’s flowering?” Daemon looked up at you, your fingers pushed back his hair as you nodded looking down at him.

“She’s growing,” you stated making Daemon grunt once more, finding the thought of his little girls growing so quickly displeasing.

“See after her? Please,” he requested, you nodded before moving behind the divider when Baela sat submerged in her tube, only her head popped out of the milky water.

“I am not dying?” she asked, still confused. You shook your head.

“It’s your moon blood, it shall happen for every turn of the moon,” you said making her grimace.

“Every moon!” She exclaimed making you giggle.

“Unfortunately so darling,” you smiled at her sympathetically.

The handmaidens brought chamomile tea from the kitchens for you to lace with a drop of milk of the poppy. Enough to make the rumbling pain in her belly heel, her handmaidens wrapped her in thick cloth before helping her back in bed.

“This tea is going to heal her?” Daemon paced by the foot of the bed.

“Don’t be daft Daemon,” you glared at him chicken mothering down your neck. He knows well enough that one cannot just heal away moon blood. “It’s for the pain.”

Rhaena had long awoken and found herself situated next to her twin sister, she appeared a little nervous about the blood but curious. She hugged her sister a little too tight making Baela swat her back before succumbing to her hold. The two of you left the girls to rest as you pulled Daemon out of their rooms.

You couldn’t help but chuckle as you thought over the brave Rogue Prince loosing his bearings over moon blood. He glared out you, making you laugh even harder, choking out apologies as you clutched your bump trying to stop. He groaned all the way through, dragging you back your shared bed chamber as your fit of giggles just wouldn’t stop.

“You can either stop giggling like a child, or I can make you,” he warned, his own lips faltering as they curled upwards with your giggles.

[silentsamlikesham]

More Zosan fluff because I'm obsessed. Slight hurt!Zoro. Pre-relationship massages

..........................

It’s only as Sanji signs off the last of the stock in his logbook that he realises how quiet it is. He’s not sure he’s ever gotten through a full review without someone crashing into the kitchen to interrupt him. 

The crew may be asleep at this hour, but still, usually whoever is on watch will find an excuse to want a snack or a drink. Sanji slips the book back into the little shelf beneath the sink, brushing himself off as he stands, stretching out his limbs after having leant over the kitchen counter for the last hour or so.

Perhaps everyone was too tired. They’d had a long few days of fighting on an island that now was, fortunately, miles behind them. He’d only woken up from his own injuries a few hours ago, hence why he was wide awake now as the moon sat high above them. 

Who was even on watch tonight? Surely, he hadn’t gotten it confused and it’s meant to be himself up in the crow’s nest.

He sticks his head out the window of the galley and cranes his neck upwards, spotting a familiar flash of green in the moonlight. Huh. If it was Zoro up there, Sanji definitely should have seen him by now. 

He closes the window and finds his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip. 

“What happened?” Sanji had slurred the question as soon as he opened his eyes, lying comfortably in the ship’s infirmary.

“You took a hit to the head. Chopper says you’re fine though.” 

It was Nami settled beside him, a map spread across her lap as she watched over him.

He’d tried to put on his usual grandeur with thanking her and complimenting her, but he coughed half-way through his first chant. She’d passed him a glass of water with a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Take it easy, you’re bruised all over. Zoro wasn’t exactly gentle dragging you here either, it wasn’t easy with his own wounds.”

Moss head had brought him to the ship?

Sanji grabs a bottle of wine he’s hidden behind several sacks of grain and makes the quick decision to head to the crow’s nest. He convinces himself it’s to even the field, to not feel like he owed Zoro anything for getting him back safely. There was no other reason he’d willingly check in on the idiot. He didn’t need Sanji’s worry. That’s not what they did. 

He climbs the crow’s nest, his chest complaining every time he stretches a hand upwards, gripping at the rope ladder and hoisting himself higher and higher. He doesn’t bother knocking, just swings the hatch open.

Zoro is sat facing the hatch, his back resting against the wooden curved wall of the crow's nest as his head almost hangs over the edge. His legs are sprawled out with his swords sitting half over his lap. His eyes had been closed, and for a moment Sanji wonders if the bastard had fallen asleep.

His eyes open slowly, glaring at the intruder, his gaze hardening further when he realises it’s the damn cook that’s come to annoy him.

“What do you want.”

His voice is strained, missing its usual bite. It’s then Sanji notices how rigid the man is sitting, not lounging like he usually does when he’s on watch.

“Thought you were dead up here when you didn’t come looking for a drink.” Sanji scoffs as he slowly pulls himself up, closing the door shut with a wince as a twinge of pain courses from his wrist to his shoulder. He should really keep track of which limbs he shouldn’t be swinging around.

“So, you brought me one?” Zoro is instantly suspicious, eyeing up the bottle like it’s laced with poison, or maybe it’s going to explode. 

“Don’t get used to it.” Sanji warns, pulling the cork from the top of it and taking a swig. It’s a welcome distraction as he sits down beside the brute, more pain blossoming along his hamstrings at the action. He passes the bottle without a glance at the other, the sloshing of wine the only sound between them.

Zoro just grunts, not in the mood to fight the cook. He takes the bottle and downs at least a glass worth of the liquor, sighing happily as he settles it between them. 

He squirms after moving his shoulder, his back aching from being thrown into a wall the day before. Usually, he could take it but the damn fishman had knocked him hard. No matter how he sat or lay down now, nothing could keep the discomfort away.

Zoro had even tried mediating earlier, thinking about anything but his pain, but it didn’t work. There just wasn’t enough pain to block out, it was more like an irritating throb. He’d forget about it but then the tiniest shift of his shoulder or back muscles would have his muscles convulsing and tightening in odd ways. He shifts his weight as softly as he can, hoping the cook doesn’t notice the weakness.

Of course, he does. Sanji can see the strain in Zoro’s neck, the sweat pooling on Zoro’s brow despite the cool temperature in the crow’s nest and the sea breeze that brushes past them. The idiot is in pain, maybe even more than Sanji is.

“You should get some painkillers from the infirmary; Chopper keeps them in the first aid box.” Sanji suggests, wondering if he hasn’t left yet because he’s too tired to try moving again or because seeing Zoro like this is unsettling enough that he doesn’t want to leave the swordsman alone. 

“Fuck off.” Zoro groans, his skin crawling at the concern. Maybe a fight with the cook would be better, he hates how soft his gaze feels right now. He’s looking at Zoro like he’s fragile.“I dragged your sorry ass back here, why don’t you worry about yourself.”

“Shut up, stupid moss for brains. Just because I hate the sight of you doesn’t mean I can’t suggest something as simple as pain killers when you’re obviously in pain. No need to get so fucking defensive.” Sanji bites back, his hackles raised, definitely not getting defensive himself.

“M’fine.” Zoro insists, shutting his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at Sanji’s stupid eyebrows any longer. 

“Clearly.” Sanji mutters, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What are you even still doing here, it’s my watch. You’ve done your little delivery, leave me alone.”

The cook never hangs around like this. Zoro wonders if it’s some pride thing, maybe Curley was feeling embarrassed having to be dragged home. Well, that’s not Zoro’s fault. Maybe next time the idiot can just stay conscious. 

Sanji lights a cigarette instead. Blowing the smoke upwards against the stars. With his eyes closed Sanji can take a longer look at his crewmate without worrying about a sudden sword being pulled on him. 

Zoro can sleep anywhere. After being a swordsman and being capable of getting lost anywhere he goes, his ability to sleep is what he’s most infamous for amongst the crew. He can even nap standing up, Sanji has witnessed it himself.

Yet, he looks uncomfortable right now. Sitting in maybe one of his favourite napping spots on the whole ship. His posture is all wrong, his shoulders bunched up, his neck straining to keep his head at an odd angle. 

Sanji is probably about to get a limb cut off, but despite it being Zoro, he still doesn’t like seeing one of his nakama in pain. Unless of course it was Sanji’s doing. 

He picks up the wine bottle right as Zoro reaches blindly for it, the sound of it scraping off the wood enough to have him opening his eyes, narrowing them in suspicion as Sanji holds the bottle just out of reach.

“Turn around.” Sanji insists, trying to sound as calm as possible as not to set their usual bickering off.

“Huh?” Zoro grumbles, completely taken aback by being ordered to do anything by the cook.

“Turn around, dumbass.” Sanji retorts, his patience running out immediately. Okay, so apparently, he had none when it came to Zoro.

“I don’t take orders from you, dart-brow.” 

Sanji digs his fingernails into the palm of his free hand to stop himself from raising his leg and forcing Zoro to do it.

“You want the drink, turn around. I’m not going to clobber you, Marimo.”

“What the fuck do you want then?” Zoro tilts his head, looking surprisingly cute- STUPID. Looking incredibly stupid as he tries to work out what Sanji is up to. 

Sanji waves the bottle teasingly instead, and Zoro realises he’s way too sore to be putting up with Sanji’s shit. So, with a sigh he grabs the bottle lightning fast and spins 90 degrees away from Sanji. Resting his shoulder heavily on the crows nest. 

The position is so much worse, his legs being forced to bend against the curve of the space. His shoulders and back complain as they’re forced to hold himself up. Maybe the idiot cook just didn’t want Zoro to see him struggle to his feet. Whatever, he’d be gone quicker this way.

But Sanji doesn’t get up. Instead, he finds himself choking as his throat tightens, staring at the unprotected back of his crewmate. A back that Zoro defended with his life, a back he would never leave open to an enemy, would never allow a blade to pierce or mark. Here it was, unprotected, pointing at who Sanji imagined was Zoro’s least favourite person on the ship. 

He shakes himself out of the train of thought. He’s definitely overthinking this.

Still, he going to appreciate the trust while he has it. It means something special. So, carefully he scoots forwards, sitting on his knees behind Zoro despite the prickles of pain in his legs from the position.

Zoro jumps when he places his hands on the dip of the other man’s shoulders, right beside his neck.

“What the fuck are you-” Zoro’s panicked question is cut off by Sanji digging his skilled fingers into the lump of muscle there, using pressure to ease the tension away. Zoro can feel things unclicking, pain unfurling from a tight ache to a more bearable throb before it seems to melt away entirely.

Sanji chuckles as the fight leaves the Marimo straight away, the hand that had clasped his swords, ready to smash a hilt into the side of Sanji’s head, lets go. He even places the wine down beside him. Resting his hands on his thighs now as he accidentally moans under his next breath.

Sanji is pushing the bottom of his palm outwards now, dragging the knots until they dissapeared beneath his touch. His thumbs catche more tension along the top of Zoro’s back and Zoro hisses as finally he can drop his shoulders without a shooting pain running from his neck to the bottom of his spine.

“Wha-What are you doing.” Zoro should be embarrassed by how breathless he sounds but as Sanji places the side of his pinkie finger against his spin and pushes harshly outwards towards the back of his shoulder blade, dislodging hours of tension and pain in a couple of swift swipes, he can’t help it. 

It feels good. 

“Stewing in pain is only going to lock up every muscle in your back, Mossbrain. Just let me take care of it.” Let me take care of you.

“Why?” Zoro groans, trying to twist his head to get a read on the cook, but he flinches as his neck tweaks.

Sanji seems to notice the issues and brushes his hands upwards. His fingers grind into the base of his neck, pushing out and downwards, dragging the tension low before massaging it away. 

He doesn't know how to answer Zoro's question, so he lets his hands speak for him.

His fingers brush through the stubble of spikey hair at the base of Zoro’s neck and the swordsman lets in a sharp breath at the tingles that explode from the touch. His brain feels like it’s short circuiting trying to rationalise that Sanji could make him feel this way, could make him relax against his touch, make him lean into his personal space, suddenly yearning to be closer.

“Hmm, maybe I should start calling you putty instead of Moss.” Sanji teases, pleasantly surprised by how the Marimo was unwinding under his touch now. He must have been in more discomfort than Sanji had first thought. 

“Fuck off.” There’s no heat in the comeback. Not when Zoro’s head is now lolling comfortably forward for the first time in two days. His chin nestled against his chest as Sanji continues working through both his shoulders. 

Silence stretching out between them. Neither of them sure what to say as Sanji, always one to enjoy helping his crew, comes to terms with enjoying helping Zoro for the first time. While Zoro is struggling to stay awake as after a day of being unable to nap ends with finally finding solace from the aches. 

He feels warm all over, his chest now swaying with the push and pull of Sanji’s motions. Every time the Cook’s hands make their way back up to his neck, he feels like he’s being electrocuted and then smothered in a warm blanket. His eyelids are drooping now, not the best situation for someone who’s meant to be on watch for the next few hours.

Sanji notices the fatigue taking hold of him. Notices the fists uncurling into shaky fingers. He’s never seen Zoro look so unsteady. 

Well, things were weird enough already, and Sanji isn’t someone who cares for somebody half-arsed.

He pulls his hands away, blushing at the involuntary whimper from Zoro who seems to instantly tense at the sound. The idiot clears his throat and is probably about to say or do something incredibly stupid when Sanji sits directly behind him, his back against the wall, and before Zoro can react, he reaches a hand around to Zoro’s chest and pulls him harshly backwards.

Zoro stares at the stars and the last of the smoke pluming from Sanji’s cigarette. He stares at the upturned chin and calculating eyes of the cook, confused at how he’d gotten into this position.

His face heats up and he’s about to fight back, to uppercut the jerk and kick him out of the crow’s nest, massage or not, the fucker can’t just-

A hand reaches up and ruffles through Zoro’s hair. His eyes almost roll back as he relaxes and feels his back melt peacefully into the thick thighs beneath him. Any fight leaves him as Sanji scratches his scalp, his eyelids fluttering closed as the blonde idiot chuckles fondly.

“Go to sleep, Marimo. I’ll handle the watch.”

“What the fucks gotten into you.” Zoro grumbles, trying to act pissed off as he feels himself slipping away. Leaving himself at the mercy of the Cook.

Sanji doesn’t answer. Instead, he struggles with the question for the next few hours. His hands absentmindedly trace over Zoro’s hair and his chest as he watches the green idiot’s breath even out, his chest rising and falling in a peaceful continuous rhythm.

He tries to convince himself this was all so Zoro couldn’t use saving him as a comeback for the next few weeks. That this was all cannon fodder to tease the Mosshead about for years to come. But as Zoro starts to snore, Sanji realises he like the pressure on his lap.

He likes the warmth that radiates off the human stove. 

He likes taking care of Zoro.

Finally, just as the sun peaks the horizon, as the sky changes colour above them and when Sanji is certain no one is awake for miles, that he’s the only one capable of hearing his own thoughts…he thinks to himself, maybe he just likes Zoro.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Please, I am begging you, a scrap more of Naga!Leto, a crumb, a TASTE.

(Please know I am just being dramatic, I know your requests are closed, I'm not actually asking or expecting anything, I just wanted to know I have naga!leto brainrot right now and I love you <3)

Hehehehhe I am so glad you liked it! So here's a couple lil headcanons about Naga!Leto!

Headcanons about Naga!Leto.

TW/CW: Fluffy stuff, Smut, NSFW Headcanons, Leto is a tad possessive but most nagas are, egg stuff!

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Lmao would you believe I am actually writing this shit at a church rn. I am so blasphemous. Forgive me sky daddy, I've been bad uwu

Divider by @/plum98

SFW:

Leto, as a naga, is very very into physical affection. Be it public or private. Your body as a human runs warmer than his does, so you can often find him holding your hand--or, if he catches you lounging in the sun--laying on you, his arms wrapped firmly around your waist as he begins to drift off for a blissful nap.

He will always make sure you're fed. Nagas don't typically eat much. They always will eat large meals once to three times a month. It isn't unheard of for them to skip meals for one or two months. But Leto knows humans aren't like that. So catch him sneaking you snacks, or bringing you dinner to enjoy privately in your bedchambers.

His bed is massive. If he were human, it could fit the two of you plus five other people at least. It has to be large, for him not only to share with you, but to make room for his long serpentine lower half to coil up.

Speaking of coils, Leto will sometimes sleep at the foot of the bed, his upper body straight up with his head tipped back against the soft cushions of his bed, his coils wrapped loosely on the floor. During days that are too hot for you, he will let you sleep in the mass of cool scales, his lower temperature being almost like an ice-pack for you--whilst your body heat is wonderful for him. A win-win.

Swimming. Deep beneath his palace, there is a deep reservoir of water. It is the only way they have survived all these centuries, tapping into the underground rivers and bathing in the mineral-rich water. Leto is an avid swimmer, moving like lightning when he is in the water.

If you are swimming with him, Leto will take the pace slower, letting you drift alongside him or hold on to him to let him pull you along like some sort of gorgeous missile.

Loves your laughter, any joyous sound coming from you is music to his ears.

The only thing that could rival your voice; is the voice of his children. The babies that came from the eggs you so dutifully carried within you.

When you "clutch" the eggs, as the Naga call it, Leto is by your side alone. Laying a clutch is something deeply personal, deeply intimate. Shared typically between mates, or even their older children if they are comfortable with it. He will rub your back, cradle you in his coils and catch every egg that comes from you, placing it carefully within the small creche he himself built for you.

Is insanely territorial around you and the eggs/babies. The moment he was positive the eggs were fertile, Leto hovered around you like flies around fruit. He didn't mean to hover, not at all, but it was simply his instincts telling him to be ready to defend his mate as you carried his future offspring.

When the eggs are snug perfectly in their little creche, kept safe and warm, Leto is constantly on the verge of lunging towards them if he senses anything's amiss.

Oh, Naga eggs squeak, when they're about to hatch by the way. The moment he heard them begin to shake and squeak in the dead of night, he awoke you excitedly and you both shared the quiet, loving moment of your firstborn together poking a tiny chubby hand or tail through the shell of their egg.

When the babies hatch? Oh, the man is over the moon. He adores them, as much as you. Immediately brings his older children to see their new siblings; coo'ing and letting them slither all over them as they investigate these new people and form their familial bonds.

Nagas tend to carry their children around with them in slings; warm and cosy so they can nap during important affairs in the event he believes you need a break.

If you have the babies, however, Leto will gladly come straight to the five of you, scooping all of you up in his arms to deliver kisses.

Loves your body; even in the aftermath of the babies. Will kiss every stretch mark and apply body oil to ease and dryness or cracks in your delicate skin; so much softer and delicate than his own.

(NSFW UNDER THE CUT)

NSFW:

Leto prefers to have sex with you cradled against him, safely propped in his coils for him to move you as he wishes.

Will not object if you wish to be on top, he loves watching you bounce and ride his cock as though it were the only thing keeping you alive.

Adores your breasts. Naga females usually tend not to have them; only those with a little but of human ancestry will have them as a result of a genetic throwback (yes, if a human carries Naga eggs some of their genetic material is absorbed by the soft squishy eggs while they develop and harden!); so he loves to hold them squish them, or just play with them in general.

And when you are carrying his eggs? Ohhh boy. The man is smitten for sure. The way your body changes, swells with new life... It's like a potent drug to him.

While you are carrying Naga eggs, your body produces the same hormones that you would as if it were a normal human pregnancy. Which means you produce milk. Baby nagas are about as developed as maybe a 7-month-old at best, and they have most of their teeth. So they are prepared already fresh out of the egg to eat solid food. But what does that leave you with, when you are producing milk for babies that don't need it?

Well, more for Leto, that's what. He adored your breasts before, but the man enjoys greatly when he can wrap his lips around your nipples, suckling every sweet drop he can, the arousal almost too much for him to bear as you moan and writhe as he relieves the built-up pressure in your breasts.

As a result of that... Well. It takes a while for your milk supply to go away. If at all, because of how often Leto will pin you somewhere private, rip your bodice down and drink his fill.

Sometimes, Leto will take you down to his private pool, and make love to you on the smooth stone shore, washing you off with the life-giving restorative waters afterwards, massaging your sore muscles.

Almost always prefers to finish inside of you. That primal instinct again demanding he fill you up as many times over as he can, whether you are carrying eggs or not.

Oral? He definitely prefers to give rather than receive. Nagas have fangs, female nagas tend to have the larger sets than the males do, so orale for them is almost always restricted to their very long, forked tongues.

The first time you went down on him, he thought he died and went to heaven. He never thought he would enjoy the blunt teeth in your mouth scraping his length as your fingers massaged the silky interior of his sheathe, teasing the tip of his ovipositor as you sucked him off.

After that, Leto will very awkwardly come to you if he has an urge. If you don't have time for a quickie, or if the children are asleep and you are trying to be intimate in a hurry, Leto will cradle you, pull your panties aside and hold you so you both can race to see who makes who cum first.

Loves to mark you. Be it with claws or teeth (dry bites of course), he will do so. Another instinct Naga have to let others know their mate belongs to them and to stay away. As if carrying his children and his family crest was not enough of a deterrent. He has to make sure, you know. Just a precaution...

Loves to feel your nails and blunt teeth dig into his skin as you try to do the same, relishes the bruises you leave on him and wears them proudly like badges, despite your embarrassment when your family comes to visit. Why is your face red? Why are you looking around and not making eye contact? Don't humans mark their mates, too?

[illyrian-lady-of-the-night]

MONSTER TRIO-Dancing with them

Author's note: I hope you enjoy my music choices, I tried my best to match the vibe of each character.

MONKEY D. LUFFY

Luffy's been in a great mood all night we just got done with a battle against a rogue Marine ship that had gotten lost. Of course we defeated them pretty quick and that means celebrate. Brook had been playing everyones favorites when he came up to you.

"Well (Y/N) any request," he asked raising his no eyebrows.

"Will you play Bink's Brew for me please?" You ask knowing that he'd be more than happy to play it. Brook would smile if he could as he started to play. Luffy sprinted across the deck to get to you his hands finding yours as he started turing you both.

"Luffy what are you doing to me?" you ask laughing as your boyfriend tried to dip you.

"This is how Robin and Franky dance do you not like it," your captian said slowly stopping looking sad. You quickly shake your head.

"No its not that, its just not your style my love I want to be Luffy and (Y/N) not Robin and Franky," you say giving him a little hug to try and make him feel better. He gives you a look of relization and a small oh.

Luffy lets go of your hands and starts dancing next to you shaking his hips and waving around his arms. You laugh and start doing the same thing. Now this is the Luffy you like to dance with.

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

RORONOA ZORO

It was your night to be on watch up in the crows nest, luckily Nami navigated us to a uninhabited island so it was you and the moon awake tonight. Your radio played softly as you danced alone to it to keep awake.

Suddenly the hatch opens and green hair starts to poke through followed by a pair of eyes that stared into your soul.

"Don't stop because I turned up,"

"Ro why are you even awake isn't it like 2 in the morning," you say looking at the clock on the wall. He walks over to you wrapping his arms aroing your middle, putting his face in your neck.

"Can't I just want a hug?" He says yawning at the end of his sentence. You give him a knowing look. "Ok I woke up because you weren't there,"

You let out a giggle because the pirate bounty hunter can't sleep without you, "Well now that you are here do you want to dance with me?" you shyly ask looking up at him. He thinks for a moment and looks around.

"As long as you don't go and tell Nami and Robin," He says giving you his serious face (Its his normal face). You nod egarily turning to your radio clicking the next button three times to find the song you wanted. Apocalypse by Cigarettes After Sex starts to play slowly and you turn around to see Zoro holding his hand out to take. You take his hand and he pulls you in his arms around your waist. You wrap your arms around his neck and look up into his eye.

You let out a content sigh. "I love you Roro,"

His chest rumbles with a laugh, "I love you too sweetheart,"

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

VINSMOKE SANJI

You sat on a barstool in the kitchen after dinner watcing Sanji clean. When you asked to help he told you a flower such as yourself just needs to digest. As you sit a song starts to play over the speaker above the door.

"This is that song that Robin has been obsessed with right?" Sanji asks curiously. Its true at the last island when you, Robin, and Nami were shopping, this song had played and Robin asked the owner the name of it.

"Yeah I think she said it was called Wondering Why," You say back swaying to the gentle strumming of guitar. Sanji puts his rag down and wipes his hands on his apron before taking it off and walking towards you.

"Would you like to dance mademoiselle?" He asks holding his hand out for you to take. This wasn't unusual Sanji loved to dance with you. And there was something you loved about being alone in the darken kitchen your bodies close sharing the air between you.

Unexpectedly Sanji spins you and dips you making you gasp and when you do he leans down and steals a kiss.

"You are perfect for me darling never forget that,” He says standing you up right. You blush brightly letting your smile take up your entire face.

You rise up on your tippy toes to kiss Sanji “I love you too baby,”

[idrawfunkythings]

DCAtober Day 18: Phobia

Words 1,600+ Summary: Moon admits some feelings and you chase him home

Spring was both of your boys’ favourite season. Sun loved how deep nights stretched into long days, and Moon liked how all kinds of new animals would be finding refuge wherever you went. You liked the walks - on warm spring nights, you and Sun would have a nice wander around the city, and you’d come home with Moon in tow.

You were having one of those nights now. It was a Sunday. Tomorrow you’d resume your job search. The stash Fazbear had given as hush money was more than enough, but you still needed a steady income. But for now, it was you and Moon, and the just risen rock that he was named after shining in the sky.

Moon’s steps are long and graceful. You, on the other hand, are trailing behind slightly, watching as his head swivels from side to side. He spends your walks together coolly inspecting the surroundings. When Sun goes out, most of the way home is spent in silence, unless Moon decides he’s in a feral mood and wants to chase you.

You’re less than fifteen minutes away from home, at the point in your journey where you cut through a park to avoid construction on the sidewalk. Moon’s hypothetical ears perk up when he hears laughter coming from a swingset, eyes trailing over to where a group of young kids are playing together while their parents sit nearby.

He slows, falling back to where you are, and you give him a funny look that he avoids. “What’s wrong?” Despite his clear anxiety, his optics remain fixed on the group. “Moon?”

“Let’s take the longer way,” he stutters out, clasping your hand and backpedaling to the park gate. “Sun wants to see if the bluebird eggs have hatched.”

“Whoa, whoa, what?” You dig your heels in the grass, which realistically would not stop Moon at all (his freakish strength and everything), but seems to work enough to get him to stop. “Those eggs hatched a week ago, remember? Sun cried because one of the hatchlings almost fell out.”

“There’s another nest,” Moon says determinedly. He still hasn’t looked away from the kids.

“No there isn’t. Sun’s on that birdwatching Facebook page! He would have told me if there was a new nest.”

“Just popped up.” Moon tugs your arm. “Come on.”

You follow his gaze, to where the kids have stopped their swinging and are looking at him with wide eyes. One of them seems to have recognised him, a boy with a white eyepatch on his right eye, and waves excitedly. Moon waves back half heartedly.

“Nest,” he repeats.

“Are you scared of them?”

His red pupils find you, piercing your soul. “Scared?”

You couldn’t believe you hadn’t realised it earlier, honestly. This was the first time Moon had been near a group of children since the daycare. Sun had, of course, when you went to the grocer’s or out for early walks, but by the time Moon came out most kids were snuggled in bed.

The problem was you didn’t know how to approach this without him biting your head off. “Not scared,” you amend hastily, acutely aware of the way Moon’s smile has tightened. “Just… overly cautious.”

“Our whole job is with kids,” Moon spits, and you totally don’t note the use of ‘is’ rather than ‘was’.

“I know… but it’s the first time you’ve seen them since… um…”

Moon’s face tilts, and his eyes narrow, meaning he’s either about to chase you until you can’t breathe or Sun is trying to calm him down. “Not scared,” he says eventually.

“Okay. But is there… apprehension?”

More words from Sun. Moon pauses.

“…don’t want to hurt them.”

Okay! This was progress! Moon was being more vulnerable with you. If you weren’t currently standing in front of him, you’d be pumping your fist in the air in excitement. You compose yourself and pretend you’re not totally surprised he didn’t just pick you up and walk the longer path anyway. “Why would you hurt them? We wiped the glitch.”

Moon’s hands tremble, and his bells rattle as they shake. “Could be in a file.”

This had clearly been affecting him more than you knew. You wonder if Sun feels the same. You’d ask him tomorrow, when he was cornered and had to be honest or get hit with a pillow. “Leo checked your files.”

Moon finally looks away from the kids, staring in the direct opposite direction. “Humans make errors. Too many errors.”

“Well… yeah, we do,” you relent, slipping your hand into one of his to still his shaking. “I can’t promise what he did will be 100 percent perfect.”

A quick glance at Moon’s face tells you Sun is definitely staring at you in horror through their headspace. You’d deal with him later.

You jump back quickly before they can start an argument. “But I trust him, and I know you do too. I mean, hey, he’s one of the only people Sun allows to open you guys up.”

Moon’s listening, mostly because he doesn’t have a choice. But he’s not running away, so you count that as a win.

“Moon.” You squeeze his hand. “Before we even got rid of the virus, we had pretty much worked through all the triggers and reactions it caused. You trust me, right? I trust you and Sun with my life.”

“…your judgement isn’t worth much.”

“Okay, rude.” You’d elbow him if it wouldn’t just result in you getting a bruise. “Sun thinks my judgement is impeccable.”

“No, he does not.”

“He’s also rude!” You say, jabbing a hand at Moon’s chest. He chuckles quietly, so, hell yes, this was working. You adopt a softer tone. “Moon, buddy. I wouldn’t tell you to go over if I thought you would hurt them.”

Moon looks at you in a pained way, which you realise is because you’re doing exactly what he used to do when a kid was scared at the daycare.

“If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” You gently tug him back in the direction of the playground. “Please?”

You can tell just by looking at him that both of them absolutely do not want to go near the swings at any cost. Moon seems ready to bolt, like a scared cat that is waiting for the right moment to zoom away.

“You can do it.”

He looks down at you and his fingers lock up, almost crushing your fingers. His feet are still firmly planted on the floor. There is not intention of moving.

“Is Freddy scared when he goes on stage?”

If Moon wasn’t about to short circuit, he would have groaned. “What.”

You repeat yourself. “Is Freddy scared when he goes on stage?”

It’s stupid. It’s so, so stupid, but it’s the only thing you can think of. It’s what they used to say to the kids when they were scared to make new friends, or show their art, or do anything they clammed up just thinking about.

You nudge him.

“…yes.”

“But what does he do?”

“He goes on stage.”

“And why does he do that?”

“Do we look like children.”

“And why does he do that?”

Moon looks very much like he’s not scared anymore, he just wants to kill you. “Because he is brave.”

“Let’s be brave together.” You take a step forward. He’s not gonna follow. You know he’s not going to. This was all just a waste of-

Moon follows you.

You hide your joy and take slow steps past the swings, where the kids have returned to their talk. When they catch sight of Moon again, and how close he suddenly is, the one who recognised him earlier jumps up and comes sprinting over. His parents eye him warily, but calm at the sight of the daycare attendant. His reputation precedes him.

“Mr Moon!” the kid shouts in excitement. “What are you doing here?”

Moon is still trembling. You squeeze his hand yet again, and give him a smile. He straightens up.

They really must have been amazing performers.

“Hello, Hudson,” he coos, bending down to be on his level. “I’m here with my friend. Do you remember them?” You wave at the kid, and he waves back. “Are those your friends?”

“Yeah!” Hudson nods excitedly. “We go to school together.”

“You must be having a lot of fun.”

Hudson nods even more enthusiastically than before. “It’s so much fun! I’m learning how to read.”

“That sounds very hard.” Moon gives him a high five. “Well done, star.”

Hudson looks over to his friends. “I gotta go play, bye!” He runs off without saying anything else. Classic kid.

You don’t say anything as Moon stands back up, nor when you walk out of the park and cross the road. When you reach the bike path, where blackberry bushes are covering the sides, you beam at him.

“I’m proud of you.”

Moon looks away. “We miss the kids.”

You blink. “You do?”

Moon nods. “We miss all of them.” he stares at the path ahead of you. “That doesn’t go away.”

Maybe once upon a time, you would have been skeptical if that was him speaking, or if his coding was mandating the response. However now, you knew his words were all his. Fazbear couldn’t control them anymore.

“Maybe we should go past the park more,” you suggest. “Say hi.”

Moon chuckles lowly. “Sun says you sound like a creep.”

You smack his faceplate. “Shut it, Sunburn!”

Moon laughs and dodges your second attack, and despite your best attempts, evades you the whole way home. Later, when you’re getting ready for bed, he pulls his hat over your eyes and cackles as you stumble after him, trying to chuck it at his head.

[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 7

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: Sort of suggestive at the end

Now Boarding

It took you no time at all to make it back to the treehouse. Recently, you had pictured yourself jumping for joy when you were finally going to leave this island, but now, you were just really ticked off. Whatever the lady equivalent of blue balls was, you had it. Guess I didn't realize how pent up I am. "Your fucking crew is already pissing me off, Blondie." You poked him in the center of his chest to punctuate every word. "By the way, you're getting off this shithole. Be grateful you were only here a few days instead of years." Laying the back of your hand against his neck and forehead, you thought maybe his fever had gone down. He at least wasn't sweating like he was before. 

You grabbed the stuff you wanted to bring with you, wishing you had some kind of bottoms among your things to wear. All it would take is a curious hand reaching for your shirt or a strong breeze and your business would be on full display. You strongly doubted Kid pirates were the type to keep their hands to themselves. You also strongly doubted their captain would appreciate you breaking the crews' fingers in return. Or maybe he would. After all, he seemed to enjoy your bad attitude. 

A discordant collection of voices and loud laughter signaled the return of a group of Kid pirates. Before they came to fetch their vice-captain, you made the hasty decision to pull your gun out of its parcel, along with the leather holster you custom made to fit its strange shape. You started to put it around your waist over your shirt and thought better of it, instead putting it in the same place but underneath. That way it couldn't be seen and you could get to it if you needed to. It would mean giving someone a full moon but you didn't think you would mind if the occasion called for it. 

A pirate with blue-gray dreadlocks and patchwork skin called up to you, "Captain told me to come get Killer. Can I come up?" 

A pirate who asks permission? Interesting. Poking your head out of the hatch so that your voice could be heard, "Knock yourself out." You thought about how difficult it was for Kid to get Killer up here in the first place and wondered how hard it would be to get him out. Could always break the floor to make a wider opening. Since no one is coming back. The thought made you a little sad and a touch anxious. You were stepping out of your territory and into Kid's. You made a mental note to try to behave. The less attention drawn to yourself the better. 

A soft knock against wood announced the arrival of the blue-haired pirate. He cleared his throat. "I'm Heat." He pushed himself through the hatch. 

"Okay." You gestured to where Killer was leaning against the wall. 

The pirate called Heat threw Killer over his shoulder, pausing at first when he saw Killer's face without his mask. His long blond hair obscured his face like this anyway, and it was pitch black outside with the exception of the torches the group held. He started to descend then cleared his throat again, "Captain told me to get you, too."

"Should I get on your other shoulder?" Heat offered a laugh through his nose. You continued, "I'll come down but... just don't look up." You looked away before your cheeks could get hot. Again it was dark, still you didn't need to reveal yourself...or that you were armed...to anyone right now. 

Heat nodded and slipped out of view with Killer. You took one last look around, grabbed your pack, and followed. The conversation and laughter ceased when you walked over to the group with Heat. "Let's go," he commanded. It was awkwardly quiet and you felt very out of place being at least several inches shorter with a much smaller frame than the surrounding party. You kept your eyes forward as you felt several stares here and there. 

You watched as one of the men grabbed an oddly-shaped, enticing, yellow fruit from on overhanging branch. "I would leave that," you helpfully offered. The man snorted at you and rolled his eyes before shoving the entire thing in his mouth. That was my shot at being nice. He would regret it, that you were certain of. You estimated in around three to five hours he would be experiencing some of the worst cramps of his life. Stoplight fruit was so called because if it was red, you should stop eating it and if it was green, it was safe to eat. Therefore, yellow was in-between, not deadly but not benign either. You knew of that one before ending up here. It was common on islands in the area. You swear you saw Heat stifle a laugh. He must know, too. 

The Victoria Punk was beautiful. Both because you hadn't seen a ship in years and because it simply was a beautiful ship. You didn't get a good look the first time you had encountered it. The skull figurehead was incredibly impressive in person, and huge. Illuminated by torchlight, the teeth glowed orange like molten iron. It was probably the last thing some sailors saw before getting sunk. The nostalgia of being on a ship and feeling the wind in your face pulled a smile out of your sour features. Your admiration was cut short.

"Havin second thoughts, girlie?" The voice startled you a little, not having noticed Kid get off the ship. 

"Not at all, Captain." 

"Then get yer ass on board. Heat will show ya where ya can stay."

"Not without Mini. Remember the deal?" 

Kid rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Hurry up." He wondered how long you would wait for an imaginary friend to materialize. 

You put your hands around your mouth and yelled towards the trees. "MINERVA, LET'S FUCKIN GO. LAST TIME I'M ASKIN." You would be lying to yourself if you thought you wouldn't be sad leaving her behind. She was wild, like yourself, though, and you couldn't force her to do anything she didn't want to do. Nothing happened for a minute and Kid tugged the collar of your shirt like he was a millisecond away from dragging your ass. Suddenly, the sound of snapping branches accompanied by a soft rumble quickly approached, saplings being toppled closer and closer to the beach. A wall of sand and dust flew up as the beast skidded to a stop a few feet away from you. A huge, wet nose with sharp tusks poked out of the dust and snorted into your face. "I said I was sorry. What more do you want from me?" As the sand settled, a massive shape with reddish-brown fur and a black stripe down the back was revealed.

Apparently, Kid was now the second largest red-head on the beach. "YER OUTTA YER FUCKIN MIND IF YA THINK THAT FOUL THING IS GETTIN ON MY SHIP." A fucking boar. A huge fucking boar. This bitch is something else. Mini turned her attention to Kid and lowered her head, giving Kid a better look at how big and how sharp the tusks growing from her snout were. 

"Package deal." You crossed your arms over your chest, staring at Kid. "And she smells better than most of your crew." Your hand rustled around in your bag before pulling out the tincture for Killer, tutting as you did so. 

Kid growled, hating that he would have to relent. He grabbed your chin and made you look up at him. In the background, Mini tensed. "One chance. Do ya hear me? One. Or we will have the finest fuckin pig roast on the entire sea." He pulled you close enough that his breath was hot on your ear, at the same time you felt cold metal tracing up the back of your thigh. "Did ya think I wouldn't notice?" He laughed and sent a shiver up your spine, maybe for the wrong reasons. The cold metal reached up the back of your shirt despite your protests and tugged your weapon from its holster. "Yer absolutely rotten." Kid stood back up to his full height and turned it over in his hand. "Cute." He added it to his bandolier. He grinned and gestured towards the ship as you stared daggers at him. 

"Fuck you," you spat in his direction as you walked past him. That was fine. You were pretty good with your own two hands when it came to defending yourself. I don't think he recognized my gun. But Killer might.

Kid gave your ass a slap as you walked by, much to the delight of his crew, who laughed and taunted from the deck of the ship. "Yer gonna," Kid promised. He decided that he would show you around instead of Heat, starting with his cabin. 

Next

[some-pers0n]

Memoir of an Albatross

Chapter 4 - Have Mercy on a Wounded Bird

[1] [2] [3] [4]

(Art by Loquatic)

Chapter Description: Queen Lagoon is throwing a party, much to Albatross's displeasure. However, it is only then when it is revealed that Lagoon has certain plans for his brother's future.

Five years had since passed Queen Lagoon's rise to power, and yet Albatross still had not felt any more respected the day since he hatched. If anything, he felt as though this newer attention was more fabricated and soulless. 

These days, he would receive praise and admiration for his magic. Any dragons who stopped by for the queen would bow their heads to him. They'd call him "Albatross the Animus Prince", as though him having these powers and being of royal blood was something other than a curse he begrudgingly accepted. They talked about how powerful he was. They spoke of him as this glorious dragon.

He knew what they thought though. He knew that they thought he was just as deplorable and horrific as when he was a hatchling. They just now had to be nice since he's capable of harm. They know what animus dragons can do, even without being aware of what he's done to Sapphire and Queen Gannet. In some ways, it felt no different than being politely ignored and glossed over; just that now he had to stand around with dragons.

Yet, life could be worse. Could be better though. For as many edits and changes as Lagoon's reign had brought with it, Albatross's internal life remained the same. For one, Sapphire had not returned. Lagoon had visited with her several times, all of which she came back with the same news: Sapphire had not forgiven him. She hated him with all of her fragmented mind. She did not want to return as long as he was still alive.

He couldn't blame her. Who would forgive a dragon like him? A dragon who had been so easily influenced by his darker thoughts and gave way to the temptation of violence and destruction. He was but an animal compared to the rest of them.

At least that's what Lagoon implied from her lectures. She would go on and on these days about how she needed his magic. That his magic was a dangerous force bestowed onto him by the moons themselves or whatever spiritual belief she held. He only saw them as a sick joke, one that only Lagoon found funny.

He had been her glorified circus freak for her to parade around at parties. There had been many since her uprising, and while they did certainly bring more diplomatic leaders and open trade routes and better relations with the surrounding kingdoms, Albatross found them a waste of time. Had he been able to skip them, he would have found some joy.

Yet, his home, the Island Palace, was used as her party area. It was the one thing he wanted, his own place away from Lagoon, and even then she abused it as her party palace. His emotions became secondary, as she would drop by and announce to him that she was hosting some new event between her and whatever queen this time. How wonderful. Even better with her parading him around like an object to ogle at.

He felt more alone and isolated at those parties than ever before. He had to put up a charming, nice exterior, even if all he wanted to do was just retreat into his quarters and wait until all the guests were gone. Play nice. He didn't hate the dragons he saw, not at all, but rather felt as though they were never genuine. Playing up a nice, friendly facade like he was.

He was tired of it all. He wanted to be alone, forever.

"Albatross?" a voice called for him.

"Hm? Yes?"

"You've been standing near the fruit and juice area for a while. Are you alright?" The dragon tilted his head to the side. 

It was Humpback, Lagoon's husband and King of the SeaWings. Better yet, a brother-in-law. He was nice enough; certainly a lot better than Lagoon, that's for sure. He was an upper-class noble, one that Lagoon took an interest in. He tended to ramble about his life back then, but anything he said was infinitely more preferable to being around Lagoon. He at the very least cared about him a little.

"Yeah, I'm just a little tuckered from the chit-chat," he laughed. "Standing by here, sipping this...juice." He took a sniff from his chalice. "Mango and pineapple blend, right? Though, I'm also getting a hint of lime too."

"Couldn't tell you, honestly. All I know is that the guests love it." He grinned, checking Albatross in the side playfully. "Why don't you come on out later? When you've mentally recovered a bit. It's not like this is some big diplomatic meeting anyway. Just a bunch of dragons."

He looked around. They were in the central room, one that was connected to the rest of the halls and areas. Water flowed through river-like paths on the floor, just barely deep enough to go up to his talons. Tables were set up along the sides, carrying rows upon rows of meat, fruit, and drink. SeaWings of all shapes and colours were dotted all around, chatting with one another. Some on the floor, some on the balcony. All of them nobles from various houses, coming together for some grand reason that only Lagoon seemed to know.

In the center-most part of the palace was Lagoon herself, her voice somewhat audible to Albatross even amongst the deafening sounds of dragons laughing and talking. She was with some SeaWing noble he had never seen before, showing them the statue. She blabbed about its marbling and how beautiful it was. The same inane mumblings he had heard a dozen times over.

Then, Lagoon looked at Albatross. Even across the room, her eyes were piercing. He knew she wanted him over. To have him there as some symbol of the power she has. For him to be this performing animal.

"Oh, that's her." Humpback clicked his tongue. "Might wanna get over there before she starts nagging in your ear about it." He snickered. "Geez, I can't blame you for sticking your distance if you had to grow up with her."

"That's an...odd thing to say about your wife," he said.

"What? Joking about her being a bit of a you-know-what? I mean, it's just pointing out the obvious."

"Well, you would be right. She can be a real pain in the tail..." He grumbled. "I don't know though." He shook his head. "I find it somewhat strange to sort of make fun of her."

"Oh c'mon! She yells at you all the time, and you're defending her from a lil' comment. Besides, you'll understand once you're married." Humpback nudged him. "Speaking of which, any plans for that?"

Albatross bit his tongue. Admittedly, no, he had not been thinking about getting married. The thought didn't even cross his mind. He knew it had to happen sometime, all dragons in this family eventually have to settle with somebody, but he didn't feel anything. No real pull or desire to rest with another. Whenever he imagined his future, he saw himself happily alone.

"Honestly? I've got nothing for plans." He shrugged. "I don't really think I'll settle for a while."

"Ahh, wanna stick with the bachelor life? Trust me, it was great. But, y'know, the time comes. Plus it's somewhat hard to pass up becoming royalty when the SeaWing Queen herself comes and drags you along to be her husband. Drags you away from that great ol' life, but, hey, this gig ain't that bad either. Just miss the freedom of doing whatever I wanted without coming back to see somebody scream about how reckless it was. Constantly on your case about the smallest things. Annoying, really."

Albatross blinked. "Is that really how you feel about Lagoon?" he asked, barely masking his disbelief. Is that really how a dragon is supposed to feel about their partner?

Humpback paused to sip his drink. He laughed. "Like I said, Albatross, you'll understand one day."

Albatross awkwardly laughed. "Haha, yeah..." He swirled the drink in his talons. What felt more uncomfortable than Humpback's comments was still the idea of settling with another. It was strange more so the fact he couldn't place a claw on why he felt that way. Maybe it was from him being young, but even so, he was eleven years old. Somewhat exiting his young adult years.

Maybe it was time for him to find somebody to spend the rest of his life with. Yet, the very thought of that made his scales itch. Why?

"Hey!" Another voice squawked in his ear. It was sharp and made him jump.

"Moons above– Lagoon?"

"Yes, it's Lagoon. I was trying to call you over for ages, and you just ignored me." Her scales were lit ever so slightly and her ears were pink from embarrassment. "Come. You're better off entertaining some lovely guests instead of standing there."

"Why should I?"

"They're bored and want to have a little chat with you. They think I'm an idiot.They think I can't even get my stubborn brother to do what I say."

"I doubt that somehow."

"Just come over. Stop being a grouch. Loosen up a little!" she said. From behind, Albatross could make out the faint sound of Humpback snorting.

She grabbed him by the talons. "Get over here." She began dragging him along. "You're like a hatchling. Can't you listen to me for once in your life?"

He pulled his talons away. "You don't have to treat me like that," he said, a little harsher than he'd like. "I can walk on my own." He glanced back at Humpback. "Nice getting to talk with you."

"No problem! Besides, now I can eat all the scavenger sashimi I want." He grabbed one of the delicacies in question, plopping it into his mouth. "Good idea sticking around here. Maybe I'll stay and eat all the snacks too."

"No, dear, you'll have to be with me soon enough. King business."

"Aw..." He looked at her with the eyes of a baby turtle. Sad, vaguely pathetic, yet somewhat cute.

Albatross let out a small, bemused chuckle. He then turned back to Lagoon, trailing behind her. "What do you want with me To have me explain how I made that statue of you again?"

"No, actually. Besides, I only made you do that twice."

"Twice more than I should have."

"You just can't help yourself but complain about everything, huh?" she asked. "I try and make light conversation and include you and all you do is whine and pout." She shook her head. "At least smile this time."

"I always smile. That's what I'm supposed to do at these parties, no?"

"Well, yes, but not that way. The way that shows all of your weird teeth. Fewer teeth, a little less wide. You look like a serial killer that way."

"Thanks Lagoon. You're always the best with compliments."

"Tone down the sarcasm as well. You're always like this at parties. This time it's slightly important. You need to make a nice impression."

Lagoon's face lifted as they approached the SeaWings she had been chatting with earlier. A complete shift in character. "Apologizes for the wait, Prince Albatross simply was helping himself to the buffet. Have you tried any? The best chefs in Pyrrhia have prepared the most delicious platter of seafood a dragon could ask for. Be a shame if it went to waste."

Two SeaWings stood before them. Behind was an imposing marble fountain of Lagoon. Sculpted from marble, it displayed the queen holding a spear above her head. Water flowed from the spouts below her talons, pooling in the basin.

That statue was one of the things Lagoon had asked Albatross to enchant for her. Her old sculptor had fallen ill and Lagoon didn't want to wait until they had gotten better. Instead, she had given him the diagrams and asked him to create it with the bonus of being a fountain as well. He tried to argue back, but she insisted. He complied.

Oddly enough, since that enchantment and many others before, he grew more irritated and sensitive to Lagoon's chatter. Most voices and noises in general were harsher on the ears, but Lagoon's voice in particular stood out as being shrill, especially when she raised her voice. He had chalked it up to getting older, and yet, something didn't feel right about it. Looking at that statue only reminded him of that.

"Oh, thank you, your majesty. We'll be sure to see." One SeaWing, one with sandy yellow scales and cloudy grey eyes, spoke before her husband could get a chance to. "And thank you for bringing Albatross!"

Guests had a habit of crowding and even demanding for Albatross whenever these parties happened. By all means, he is the first-ever SeaWing animus. They'd come and ask him basic questions like how he discovered his magic, to which he gave a fake story about reading a scroll that described it and jokingly tried to see if he had it. Perfectly mundane.

"Yes, yes, Albatross, the grand SeaWing animus," he playfully began. "A little birdie here told me that you two wanted a chance to meet me. Well, today is your lucky day!" He tipped his head lightly. "Whereabouts are you two from?"

The blue-white SeaWing tried to speak once again, only to be cut off by his wife. "We're from the Shifting Sands Grotto. That whole general region."

"Oh? Really?" He tried to mask his mild surprise. The Shifting Sands Grotto wasn't typically a place where Lagoon would invite guests. They were mainly a neglected area on a small island near Maelstrom's Eye. A common area mainly for trade. Not seedy or dangerous by any means, but nothing of note.

Lagoon didn't typically care for commoners. She would make passing remarks about their whininess whenever an advisor would tell her things. Strange that she would act this way to dragons who are, at best, minor nobility. Albatross would've figured she'd laugh in their face. What was she up to?

"I recall visiting there once," Albatross continued. "Very wonderful place. Is it true that the typhoons are as bad as they say?"

"Well, yes, of course. My dragonets always love going out during those storms though." She shook her head. "Reckless. However, our eldest always listened to my pleas. Oh! I'm Perch, and this is my husband, Swordfish. Terribly sorry, I forgot to introduce ourselves."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance." He smiled. Fewer teeth, less wide.

Perch turned towards Lagoon. "So, will you announce it now?"

"Hm, why not? I figure it's about time. We're only putting it off if we wait any longer." Lagoon looked at the wine chalice in her talons.

"What announcement?"

"What announcement?" Perch echoed. She snickered. "Prince Albatross, you're so funny. Modest and humble too."

Before he could get another word out, Lagoon's voice boomed. "Attention guests!" She spoke like a clap of thunder. "Thank you all for coming here on this fine evening! I ask of you to gather around for a very important announcement."

"I'm so happy for you, Prince Albatross." Perch crooned. "But, where is she? Marlin should be here as well. Swordfish, do you know where she is?"

"Dunno. She wandered off. Said she was getting some food." He shrugged.

"Well, she'll hear the news. Oh, she'll be overjoyed."

"I'm sorry, did I miss a memo or something?" Albatross awkwardly laughed. "What is going on?"

Once more, the only answer he received was the voice of his sister. Despite being several paces from her, it was like she was talking directly into his ear. "Thank you, thank you." She thanked the crowd as they all turned to her, shushing themselves. "Tonight is a very special night where we will honour two dragons in this very room right now. This arrangement will lead to prosperity in our kingdom, as we will have further generations with gifts bestowed onto us by the moons themselves."

She glanced back at Albatross. A coy, wicked smirk was painted on her face. "Tonight, I am pleased to announce the engagement between Marlin, daughter of Perch and Swordfish, and Prince Albatross, royal animus my very own brother."

It was as though a tsunami had crashed down on him. Within an instant, his stomach dropped. His eyes widened, becoming little more than dark circles of shock, fear, and horror. A lump formed in his throat. He struggled to find the words. What words could he even say? 

Why was she doing this? An arranged marriage?! No. No, no, no. This wasn't right. This wasn't fair. She could order him around and scold him, but to do this? Was she out of her mind? She knew he was hesitant to marry. Why? How?

Between the mass clapping and clamouring, he saw a lone dragon on the other side of the room. Standing next to some boiled snails was a dragon, the same silent horror painted on her face. Her overscales were a deep, rich navy blue. Her webbed spines were long and her barbels dangled. She had yellow streaks and hints in combination with her golden bioluminescent scales. Her eyes, the hue the same as a golden hour over the sea, were still. Trapped in this expression of shock.

That had to be Marlin. His fiancé. 

He couldn't hear what Lagoon was blabbing about. It sounded like rogue waves crashing against him, dragging him under the waters. He stared at the dragon in disbelief. She looked just as scared and confused as he was. 

He did this. Because of his inability to find a partner of some kind, Lagoon decided to drag things into her own talons. Now he's doomed this dragon to stay with him. That's what he always does anyway. Hurts dragons.

"Pardon me, please." He mumbled. He pushed passed dragons, quelling their remarks by saying that he just needed a moment. He began to shut down, feeling as though he was acting wholly on instinct rather than conscious choices. Back in this dissociative state.

He walked aimlessly through the halls of the Island Palace. His talons clicked against the cold floor. What was he supposed to do? There was no way he could convince Lagoon to call it off. She was stubborn as an orca. His stomach felt more like a bottomless pit. His limbs were heavy. He couldn't think straight. Thoughts crashed into one another. Rigorous self-critique, parroting everything Lagoon ever said. It was a storm of self-hatred and anger.

He managed to find his room. He took a sharp breath the second he entered, gritting his teeth. He could feel tears attempting to form in his eyes. Why was he having such a violent reaction? It was an arranged marriage entirely without his consent or knowledge, but this cut deep in him. A nerve he never knew existed that had been sliced. 

He kept pacing back and forth, picking at his webbing. Same old nervous tick, but never to this degree. Why was this happening to him? What had he done for the moons to curse him like this?

Then, from behind him, felt a new presence. He turned, choking back a small sob. 

The SeaWing. Marlin. She was in the doorway, her expression more sympathetic and gentle.

"Hey, are you okay?" she asked. The question sounded so absurd (obviously he was not okay), but the way she framed it made him feel slightly more relaxed.

Albatross bit his tongue. "If I'll be perfectly honest: no, not exactly."

"Yeah..." she sighed. "I can't believe any of this is happening. I'm sorry."

There was an odd way in which she spoke. She sounded so genuine. Not in a way like Lagoon being bluntly rude, but like she was trying to talk with him. 

"I can leave if you want. It's a lot. For both of us, but you seem to be...well, not too great."

The corners of Albatross's mouth perked up. "Yeah, hah. I'm just..." He placed his talons on his head. "Moons above, what's gotten into me?"

"If it helps, I'd try to focus on something. I get like this sometimes, but one of my younger brothers has it a lot more. Maybe you could focus on the waves."

The only real thing of comfort to him was the thoughts about her. Trying to figure her out. Why was she like this? Why did she talk to him like this? She only just met him. He never knew she existed until a few minutes ago. How could a dragon be so kind despite everything he is? Isn't he the royal animus, harbinger of a new era to the Kingdom of the Sea with his magic?

Why was she normal about him?

"Again, it's okay if I can leave–"

"Please, no," he blurted out. "No, wait. No, you can leave if you want. I don't want to force you to stay if you don't. You've already been more than helpful." He mustered up every ounce of strength to say those words.

Marlin's gaze softened. She took a step forward. "If it makes you feel a little better, I can be here to talk to."

"...why would you want to do that?" he asked.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Am I not Albatross? You must have heard about what they've said. I mean, look at me." He gestured to himself. "My eyes, my snout, my weird tail, even the way I talk, it's all off. It's different. Most dragons can't stand to be around me that long. Get weirded out."

"Why would they? You seem nice."

"Why would you stay then?"

"Because you seem nice."

He paused. "How could you know that?"

She tapped her talons on the floor. "I've definitely heard about you. I guess even then I thought it was sorta weird how they'd point at you like you're some deity or some blemish on the family. I thought they were overblowing things. That isn't to say I wasn't shocked when I heard I was being shipped off to marry you; and, moons above, it still feels so surreal to me."

She looked at him. "Then I saw you. You had this look that undid every sort of belief I had about you." She shook her head in disbelief. "I don't think I've ever seen a dragon look like that. You weren't some regal, intimidating, fancy-schmancy royal animus. You were just some normal dragon."

She chuckled. "Sounds weird, but I dunno. That's how I felt. I saw you run away and I wanted to help. I don't even really know if this is helping you or not either."

"It's...helping," he muttered. His heart began to slow. He could breathe easier now. "Thank you, Marlin."

"No problem. Helping you actually made me a little calmer. Thank you, uh... Albatross? Are you fine with that?"

"More than fine. Just call me Albatross." He smiled. He didn't care if he showed his teeth and was a bit too wide.

Maybe, out of all of the dragons that Lagoon could have paired him up with, she had picked the one that could perhaps be his friend.

[sleeplessdreamer123]

Fanfic Idea! (ABO Lucemond, Part 2 of omegan Dragonkeeper Lucerys)

First part:

It hatched. The egg hatched. His dragon was beautiful. He was pearlescent white with a yellow flame, with golden eyes and a golden chest. He knew, from the moment he heard the egg shells cracking, the moment he saw his tiny head popping out, that he would love him and treasured him with all his heart and being. Finally, a dragon of his own. A living proof of what he is. A Targaryen with his dragon.

His mother was less than enthused. He didn't understand it at first, but it gradually dawned on him that she didn't see them as anything more than large, dangerous beasts. Her views on them are so unlike his own. He, who sees them as the majestic, powerful, beautiful creatures that they are. She didn't like it when Aegon visited Sunfyre, and showed relief when both his and Helaena's dragon didn't hatch. He knew she secretly wished they'd never bond with a dragon, that they'd stay on the ground rather than on a fire-breathing beast up in the sky, and there was a time in his life where Aemond secretly thinks his mother's inner wishes were granted by the Faith, blessing her while cursing them, cursing him to such a fate. It was a hard truth to swallow, the fact that his mother, the one person he felt truly loved him, would never understand his near desperation to have a dragon. With a dragon, he was no longer, in a sense, incomplete. He couldn't tell her that though.

Aegon congratulated him in his drunken haze, and Aemond smirked as Aegon yelped, the dragon nearly biting off his fingers when he tried to touch him. Helaena just smiled, saying things about a black thread, and Aemond just nodded along to appease her. Even his Sire seemed glad for him, congratulating him, calling his dragon beautiful. It was unexpected, seeing as he only ever talked about his eldest half-sister (the one that never visits, despite his father's numerous attempts to call her back), and that was when he had his fill with his medicine, the milk of the poppy. Still, a small part of him was happy his sire showed any interest in him at all (an even smaller part wondered if he would have shown any interest in him if he never had a dragon. He pushes that part deep, deep down).

It took a few days of him parading around before he remembered his promise to a certain little dragonkeeper. He decided that it was time to present the dragon to Luke. After all, he chose him for Aemond, it's only fair he gets to see him hatched.

When he reached the Dragonpit, he started walking through the tunnels, until he finally saw a familiar small, curly haired boy. Luke was with another young dragon keeper, and it took a moment for Aemond to recognize him as the one who brought the pig. Aemond felt a wave of anger, hurt and betrayal, before shaking it off. Of course he was with another dragon keeper. They looked so much alike, they could be brothers, for all he knew. Why would he feel betrayed?

Aemond called out for him, and Luke turned to see him, bade a hasty goodbye to the other dragonkeeper, and ran straight to Aemond like an obedient puppy to his master. When he saw him with the dragon on his shoulder, his eyes said everything. He was in awe. Aemond felt pride. Yes, his dragon should inspire awe. He was going to be the most powerful dragon, the most beautiful, even more than Aegon's Sunfyre.

"He's so pretty, My Prince. His scales are like the moon's." Luke said, still looking at the dragon. Said baby dragon seemed to preen with the praise. Said owner also preened with the praise.

"Do you have a name for him yet, My Prince?"

Of course Aemond had a name chosen, ever since he learned about dragons, ever since his first egg didn't hatch. Looking at the hatchling, Aemond knows knows it fits him.

"Arrax, the Ruler of the Old Gods."

"Hello Arrax." Luke greeted his dragon in High Valyrian, and Arrax made crooning noises as a response.

Aemond decided that Luke would be a good dragonkeeper for Arrax, at least, once he's old enough.

--------

Aemond visited him almost every day. Luke was a bit shy at first, though eager to please. Once they've gotten close enough, and Luke felt comfortable with him, he began sharing a lot of stories about the dragons, though most of what he shared were from the older dragon keepers.

Aemond liked that. He liked learning about dragons from the very people who trained them. Luke does tend to babble a lot, taking detours in his stories, but all he needed to do was clear his throat for Luke to stop with his side stories, blush perfusedly, and continue on with the main ones.

He also has the habit of blushing brightly when he realizes he said too much, glancing at Aemond to see if he was angry, then continue on when he sees no trace of annoyance.

Aemond liking of little Luke slowly grew. He likes how knowledgeable he was about dragons, likes learning some secrets that dragon keepers learned through generations, and he was beginning to like whenever Luke speaks in High Valyrian when he doesn't know the word in common tongue.

It helps him learn more about the language. It was rather embarrassing for him to admit it, even to himself. A Targaryen prince not knowing how to speak High Valyrian. His mother didn't really see the point of him learning a language few people use in Westeros, the fact he didn't have a dragon until recently only strengthened her resolve to give him a different subject to focus on. So, while his older brother got to learn High Valyrian (not that Aegon cared to actually learn the language), he was stuck learning about the Faith of the Seven. He eventually taught himself the language through the use of old books, so he could understand it to an extent, but without someone actively teaching him, guiding him, correcting his pronunciation, he fears he doesn't know as much as he should. He refrains from actually using said language, afraid he would butcher it somehow. Luke's jumble of both common and High Valyrian has proven to be quite helpful, as he notes the particular way every word was said, commiting it to memory so he may practice once he was alone.

Aemond also learned about bits and pieces of Luke's life. He was apparently the second youngest bastard being watched over by the dragon keepers, the other two being his brothers, the youngest being a toddler, and the eldest being the one who brought out the pig. Aemond greatly disliked that one. Luke, however, loved him very much. And liked talking about him. A lot.

"Jace watches over Prince Aegon's Sunfyre, My Prince. He's also the one who gives me lessons on how to properly train a dragon when the other dragonkeepers are busy. Oh! He also sometimes play with Prince Aegon in the pit - Elder Byron wouldn't allow us out of the pit until dusk - though they won't let me join sometimes. But that's ok, because he makes it up to me by teaching me more secret tricks, and-"

Aemond sighs, before clearing his throat. While it was good to know that his brother wasn't always sneaking out to the Streets of Silk, or at Fleabottom, he didn't really want to learn about their brothers' little "adventures".

"Oh! I'm sorry, My Prince. It's just that I never had anyone to tell these things to. Um, where was I again? Oh, right! So Syrax continues to refuse to eat, and Elder Byron was worried she was sick. She wasn't though! She just didn't like the meat. The others said she was the most spoiled dragon they ever had to watch over, and-"

--------

Luke was used to having Prince Aemond as company. He usually arrived after the dragons were fed, with Arrax on his shoulder, demanding stories that Luke was eager to regale, while he simply listen, an eager audience. He never had people close to his age (besides Joffrey, but he's too small, he can't even talk yet) and he greatly enjoyed his time with the Prince.

So when he didn't arrive at his usual time, he began to worry. When Arrax was sent to him to care for, he really got scared.

Did he somehow manage to offend the only other person he could talk to besides his brothers? No, that couldn't be it. If it was, then Arrax would have been given to one of the older dragonkeepers to care for. Then did Prince Aemond somehow got hurt?

He knows of tales of assassinations, the royal life isn't always easy, especially for the women and children. They were the easiest targets, after all.

But that wouldn't be the case, because he saw Prince Aegon running around with Jace a few hours ago. He knew the queen, well, knew of the queen, through talks and rumors, and she wouldn't have allowed Aegon out of her sight if anything like that would have happened.(A small part of him wonders if Prince Aemond was bored of him already. That part grew larger with every thought that enters his head).

Did I bore him? Were my stories too confusing? Did I say too much? Did I annoy him in some way?

Thankfully, he remembered that there was someone who might know what was going on with him. He went to Jace, who looked at him with a look of amusement.

"Nothing happened to him, Luke. The prince just presented. He entered his first rut yesterday."

Oh.

Oh.

Luke felt the weight on his chest lessen greatly. So that was it. He was just having a special kind of sickness, like Jace recently had. Everything was fine.

Ok.

Good.

He guesses he would need to start watching over Arrax now while Prince Aemond was gone. What sort of tricks should he teach him? He ponders over that while Arrax stay perched on his shoulder, contently crooning over him.

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

So, this is fun, and I'd like to make more parts soon.

If anyone wants to write a full length fic with this concept, please tell me!

Thoughts? Violent reactions?

Update: I'll be using the hashtag (#omegan dragonkeeper lucerys) so it would be easier to read all the different parts.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

I am a predicament man, Miphlink Trash happens to intrigue me. However, it that one has already been in an ask or you wish to change things up, Blood of the Hero sounds interesting.

I wrote this when the Miphlink brain rot was absolutely eating me alive lol. Also because any time I've ever ran into "Mipha gives birth" scenes it's always this simple little "out pops the egg and we're fine :D" thing and just... as someone who has seen mothers in labor... no. Just no. LOL. Also, let Link be weirded out! Everyone writes him as being totally fine with his wife laying eggs and like... it's unnatural to Hylians anyway, and most dads are weirded out by natural and normal births. Doesn't mean he's gonna love his kid any less. Anyway, enough rambling, here's a snippet lol:

Link had known that it would be different. He knew the Zora laid eggs, and from there the child would develop and hatch and become far more akin to what he was used to as a Hylian. But he’d never seen a Zora egg – they were all kept here, a place that had been forbidden to him until today. It looked strange, almost transluscent, each egg in varying shades that resembled Zora scale tones. None of the ones in the same pool were as big as Mipha’s, but some in other pools seemed to be. All the eggs stirred occasionally, nearly scaring Link out of his skin, though the manner in which they did varied. In other pools the eggs simply seemed to rock, whereas the one where his child was all the eggs moved a little in shape.

“The shells harden over time,” Naran explained as she approached him. “They’re very malleable during birth to make the process easier, but they harden to protect the child afterward.”

A womb outside the womb, he supposed, and the thought made the process a little less… foreign and strange. He couldn’t take his eyes off the egg, wondering if the baby could hear all of them just like Hylian babies supposedly could while being carried by their mothers.

What was in store for this child? What kind of father would Link be? How would he protect the child? Anxieties old and new started to plague him, interrupted only when Naran offered to hold the egg for him for just a moment. She carefully pulled it out of the water, and Link found he didn’t know what to say or do, so he leaned in and gently kissed it. He very clearly felt a little hand press against him, and he gasped, jumping back.

Goddess there really is a baby in there. It wasn’t like he didn’t know that, in theory, but still… Link leaned over again, a smile pulling at his lips now as he stared in wonder, and he whispered, “Hello, little one.”

Naran carefully placed the egg back in the water and put a hand on his shoulder. “Congratulations again, my prince.”

It was finally Link’s turn to let out an emotional laugh, eyes stinging with tears, and he found himself running back to Mipha to hug her. His wife held him in return, giggling into his shoulder, and there they stayed until the moon was high in the sky. Afterward, they were given one last chance to look at the child they’d created together before they were escorted outside. Link carried Mipha, as she was still absolutely worn out, and the two settled in a nearby spring, close enough that the midwives could reach them and check on Mipha, which they did religiously through the night. He held her all night, letting her rest, keeping her safe and admiring how she had managed to do such a thing and then act as if it was normal and everything was fine. Hylia above, women were built different.

[pandamorphic]

Beneath the salty waves, a young dragon cried.

She swam, fighting currents and undertows she didn’t yet know, her tears indistinguishable from the home she fled. Fear and sadness and uncertainty dragged her drowning mind ahead until finally she crashed to the surface and coughed away the waves that filled her mouth. She blinked at the sky and seethed with indignation.

It wasn’t fair. The placid ocean gently released her to the beach as little stars twinkled in the clear blue expanse. Why weren’t they angry, full of righteous vengeance on her behalf? Why didn’t the waters rage and churn and spew into black clouds pounding with lightning? As she collapsed into the soft sands, she tried slowing her merciless heart.

“Oh, my dear, sweet Siren. Why do you run from me?”

She froze. She frantically searched the ripples for the telltale glow of scales. But there was nothing.

Why couldn’t she just get away from him? From them all? Even when she managed to leave, he still whispered in her ear, taunting her. She backed away from the water, sand sucking her talons as if they wanted her to stay. The light fractured around her as something blocked the moons. Clouds were gathering quickly, coming from the mainland and clawing towards her. She ran with a strangled wail—

—straight into something solid. She collapsed, the forest that edged the beach spinning around her. She looked up to find a looming figure haloed by moonlight. It had a strangely alluring presence wreathed in the scent of… was it dried coral? Or saltwater taffy? She realized she couldn’t pin down the smell but she knew it as soft and beguiling, like the rare days her parents let her play around the Wobbegong Carpets with the servants’ dragonets.

The world began to settle into its rightful place, and as it did, she realized the figure was a dragon. A huge NightWing, in fact. What was a NightWing doing around the SeaWing kingdom? she wondered.

“Oh, hello there, little one,” the dragon rumbled.

(Cut for insta)

Her eyes stretched wide as she tried hiding her fear.

“That’s it, sweet Siren. Never let them see your true feelings. Chin up and smile. You belong to the palace. To me.”

A sob escaped before she could catch it. Then, like a dam bursting, the onslaught of tears came.

“Ah, shhh,” the NightWing soothed, immediately wrapping herself around the dragonet. “What troubles you, dear?”

The dragon was warm. Not at all like the deep waters she hatched in, or the stiff royals who planned her every move. There was something tender and motherly in the way she caressed the webbing along her back. It was a feeling she never knew herself.

“My— they—“

She couldn’t stop hiccuping and could taste the familiar sharpness that would follow whenever she stuttered or flinched in front of her parents. However, no slap came, and instead the strangers pale eyes held concern rather than anger. So she swallowed and tried again.

“My… my parents. They were upset, and… they hurt me.”

The dragon tutted quietly. “When parents harm their own children… Is there no greater injustice?”

She buried her head in the stranger’s side and whimpered.

“Child, what if I told you I could help?”

She looked up slowly, confused.

“If there was anything, anything you wanted in the whole world, what would it be?”

She paused. What did she want? She was sick of being told what to do, what to say, how to properly act among which dragons. She hated that her parents treated her few friends poorly just because they were servants and commoners. No one listened to her. And she wanted him gone.

“To tell others what to do.”

“A simple enough wish. I can make that happen, little one. I just need something from you…”

———

WHEW this took me a while 😭 first real attempt at a lil comic thing!! Also more oc lore YEAH!! This is the origin of Siren’s power (and how her eyes changed as a result) and another connection with Lady Sybil 👀

[honey-minded-hivemind]

hi again I hope you can do a yandere mer parents Scott and jean [ animated series ] [ Scott is a merman and jean is a siren] x baby hybrid reader please .

Oh my carp that's so cute-! They'd be a happy little family, wouldn't they? Okay, let's dive in-

• Scott isn't sure how a mer lioe him can be so lucky to have a mate like Jean. She's gorgeous, she's smart, she's clever, and she's his best friend. He doesn't know what he'd do without her, and he's so glad he doesn't ever have to worry about losing her. She'd happily hypnotize anyone into letting her go, or she'd drown any humans who tried to hurt either one of them. She made his world brighter by simply existing-

• Jean wasn't sure how she ended up with a mate like Scott. He was kind, passionate, handsome, and wanted to help others. He was also her best friend, now her mate (and sirens didn't tend to let their mates go...). He had his heart in the right direction, and she and the rest of their pod would gladly follow him into h*ll and back. She thanked every Ocean and the Moon itself for letting her have him in her life-

• It wasn't too shocking that they ended up with a guppy. It wasn't too shocking when said guppy came out healthy and hungry. What was shocking was that it wasn't a siren or a mer- It was something entirely new, a hybrid. That only made the two even more protective. Thus was their child, their guppy, their pup, and it was their job to take care of them, and they wanted to do it to the best of their abilities. That led to many situations-

• Reader had to learn to use whatever powers they hatched with, so it didn't take much time before they both tried to see which abilities they'd have. What they didn't expect was for their guppy to have BOTH powers. It was funny, looking back on it, that their guppy basically used their powers to make them both happy. The problem was a baby no bigger than their guppy pouch having the ability to hypnotize others AND control fire. And they weren't the most... careful... guppy in the ocean.

• Tryinh to keep Reader from getting stuck or caught in a riptide or simply keeping them from wandering off was hard. It was made even harder because Reader refused to nap, and no matter how many times Jean lulled them under with her voice, they'd just wake up and become pouty. It wasn't very fun for Scott, getting to put them to sleep either. They seemed to roll out of the nest enough times that he started lunging to catch them even when he was only half-awake. The two of them wondered how they had a child this adventurous...

• And the only times when their child seemed to willingling take a nap was when they were sick. And they HATED when their baby was sick. Scott tried not to panic, holding them and trying to keep them warm, while Jean did her best to procure medicine for them and soothing them then her voice and gentle kisses. Trying to feed the medicine to their guppy didn't take much hassle, as their baby was too tired to fight when their mouth was opened and the medicine pushed in. The waiting felt the worst to them. Simply hoping and praying that their baby didn't die, or that they didn't catch a human illness... The two don't leave the nest unless it's to catch food or drag Beast in to check on Reader.

• Their baby is one who always keep them alert, but they wouldn't change it. Why would they? When their kid calls to them? Gives them kisses? Fits right in their arms? This is a baby they've wanted, one they've prepared for, and they couldn't imagine giving them up. They don't want to. They'll let their friends see them, they'll even let Reader spend time with them, but their little one won't be without either one of them for very long.

• They create little harnesses for Reader, as well as little toys and blankets. If Scott has snacks stored in a little pouch for them, then he's prepared for if Reader gets hungry. If Jean is warning them about how to use their powers, it's so Reader doesn't hurt anyone by accident. If both of them get rid of any enemies, human or mer or siren, who even looks at their baby... they're protecting them. It's what any good Mom or Dad would do...

[whiteoutzz]

Please give me your insights/headcanons on whiteout I want to understand her more but I don't really have a lot of headcanons on her. I can't just get a grasp on her character and come up with anything that makes sense (I also don't want to accidentally be ableist when headcanons stuff for her especially since I got into writing and I don't want to write something accidentally ableist.)

Ummm i was not really sure how to approach this one, but ill try! I think its alright to not understand her as a character, as we don't even get to know her that well.

From the surface level things I guess: She is subdued at quiet and had atypical way of speaking and thinking. She likes art and has hard time relating or understanding other dragons, but we briefly see her in comfortable environment, showing that she does have specific confidence to her. And... yeah that is not everything, but alot of it is. Truth be told, we dont know much about Whiteouts internal life.

I think what makes her click to me, is understanding that the text purposefully makes her unknown. If its good or bad writing choice i dont know, but we do get few references to how Whiteout is much more aware of things going on. Depth implied but not explored, left to readers interpretation.

But ignoring what i think of this writing choice, it does serve its purpouse. There is a barrier between Whiteout and other dragons, even dragons she loves. She does not understand them, and might never be able to understand some things, but she is also probably aware of the upcoming doom. She is observant after all, atleast with specific things.

Note. Alot of the things say there this are speculation and im not fully sure if they were intended to be read that way. Because we dont know alot about her, so im just filling the gaps.

Okay so. she watches her brother slowly spiral away, and maybe she always knew that was going to happen. In general her life is pretty miserable, and i dont think she is exactly satisfied with that. With art she creates, while its her interest, its also a coping mechanism, imagining of a better future. Before Thoughtful she doesnt have any real friends beside her brother. (i know that before darkstalker assassination she hangs out within his friend group and plays boardgames but i think while they are on positive relations, i dont think she is fully friends with them. They are friendly but not friends you know?) Id imagine them (Whiteout and Darkstalker) being closer when younger, as they had only eachother, but as Darkstalker is "one going wild" she is left behind in his shadow.

She is used to feeling like not a real person (dragon). She is just an accessory to others, watcher of pseudo god dragons tearing the world apart. Everything is slipping away from her, and soon she looses her family and is left alone with Thoughtful.

Whiteout in general lacks autonomy, both in text and within the story itself. She does not make things happen, but things happen to her. She has no say in the game other dragons are playing.

And i do think she is frustrated by this, it slowly showing overtime.

Also one aspect that intrigues me, but chapter two, before Whiteout hatches. Obviously its biased since its baby Darkstalker pov, but the "Whiteout does not hear the moons" thing. Her either not caring enough or not being aware of the silver right. It shows contrast between her and her brother, with her not desiring power, or maybe feeling apathy towards her place in universe (okay this one might go little far as speculation goes but whatever). It makes you wonder how Whiteout would be if she was 3moons born animus, but that is left for aus to speculate on.

As for heacannons um. Alot of them are mostly minor projections for me, like her having chronic pain or ocd or a lazy eye or whatever. Also shes autistic, obviously, but with her coding its. Yeah she is not canonically autistic but she very much reads as so.

But she also canonically has synesthesia, which i dont have. So um.

Also im sorry but i would need specific examples of headcanons you have for her, but you are probably good, but also i dont know since i dont have any example of that. Umm.

Is this good enough of a response?

[arcadianmoonshadowjedi]

Hi Dreamy! Soo I watched TDP Season 6 last night! That was a GOOD season. Many of the open processes were led to satisfying conclusions, so that was nice. However, can I just ask... how do you bear with the pacing. I grapple with the sudden aging of the characters, Rayla's unannounced return from her unannounced disappearance, with the bad jokes, with the weird side quests. Zym isn't even one of the main characters anymore. "Rise of the Archmage" or whatever would describe the plot so much better?

What I'm trying to say is, I think I generally like the story and the arcs that people are taken through, but the differences between seasons just botch it up for me so much that cannot get more invested. It's a shame for such a well thought-out universe. It somehow seems like the writers were making it up as they went along without a real vision, and now after that last, rather poorly-received "setup" season, they finally got their act together. But what is up with that. How can I enjoy episodes of such a wide range in quality.

It bothers me very much. This could have been done better, more consistently. There is a cut to me before the aging and after the aging. They patched it up with the reenactment of that scene. It kinda works. But why was it made to have been needed. Lol.

Hey there! I personally enjoyed season 4 and 5 but I understand it wasn’t the same for everyone. Actually when I watched the Dragon Prince for the the first time, after I binged all of arc 1 shortly after the release of S3, I got really invested and followed a lot of news and even watched the zoom panel with the cast and crew, all of which lead me to finding the graphic novel Through the Moon and being able to get that and read it then. Definitely reading that helped me prepare for arc 2, at least knowing what to expect of Rayla and Rayllum. I know not everyone knew about the graphic novel so I do wonder if perhaps maybe it could’ve been animated as a short movie and released in between S3 and 4, since the events of it wouldn’t have fit at the end of S3 and neither at the beginning of S4. But at the same time, I’m not sure if they would’ve been given the greenlight for that by Netflix 🤷🏽‍♀️

As for the time skip, I’m actually fine with it since I feel like it gives more opportunity for a lot of different changes to have occurred, like Callum having learned more magic, Ezran to have grown more into his role as king, showing that Claudia getting the ingredients and everything needed to bring back Viren was a lot harder and needed a lot of time to complete, showing the gravity and difficulty of that spell, and lastly showing that despite Rayla’s intense long search of Viren, she couldn’t find him at all. And with the tone and theme of the show having matured in the Mystery of Aaravos by a whole lot, I do think it makes much more sense for the characters to be older and more mature to deal with it all.

Ngl I do miss seeing Zym more a great deal too but his role also depends on where we’re at in the story, like in arc 1, it was focused on him hatching and being a newborn dragon being brought home, along with him being a major target for Viren. S4 definitely was his biggest role in arc 2 since we now see him being a toddler and having become more stubborn and going against his mother a lot lol. But I guess his role has more to do with where we’re at in the plot? I do hope we get to see more of him in S7 though 😭

I guess the title “Mystery of Aaravos” has to do a lot with how as the audience, there’s so much we don’t know about him when we start the arc and then we learn more as we go, esp in S6.

As for all of the side plots, I do feel like S6 does tie them well together, kinda like how in arc 1, we did start getting the sunfire elves plot with Amaya, which at first may have felt unrelated to the main plot but it ultimately tied into it. In arc 2, we do see it tie in sooner in S5 when Callum and Rayla wanted to go to the Great Bookery of Lux Aurea, along with Janai having the nightmares about Aaravos and all of that.

To answer your question on how to better enjoy arc 2 esp between the gaps, I’ll suggest some of the graphic novels and also add a link to the short stories released before S4 and 5 which could hopefully bridge more gaps and help you enjoy more:

Through the Moon: Graphic novel set right after S3, deals with Rayla’s fears of Viren still being alive as well as her not having closure on what happened to her parents and Runaan, leading up to events of her leaving, definitely recommend reading, esp if you decide to do a whole series rewatch right after you finish season 3.

The Dragon Prince: Reflections: All short stories available on the Dragon Prince official website to read for free. Volume 1 stories were released Pre-S4 and are mostly set within the 2 year time gap. Volume 2 stories were released before season 5 most set between S4 & 5, with the exception of ‘Strangers’, which is set during S4 when Soren was tied up by Terry and Claudia and deals with him reacting to Viren being alive, and the three-part story ‘Chasing Shadows’ which is focused on Rayla’s time in Scumport pre-S4, and ‘Queen’s Mercy’ which is a Kim’dael backstory.

Bloodmoon Huntress: Graphic novel with a Rayla backstory, starts with her parents leaving for the dragon guard & her being adopted by Runaan and Ethari. It shows a lot of how it impacted Rayla, gives ALOT of insight into Rayla’s upbringing and how she forms her understanding of how to love someone, esp in terms of her eventually leaving Callum when she’s older. This book also introduced Kim’dael who we also see in S5.

There’s also the graphic novel ‘Puzzle House’ which is a Soren and Claudia backstory set after their mother left, which I also loved and found giving more insight into Claudia’s character, but I would definitely say that ‘Through the Moon’ and ‘Bloodmoon Huntress’ would help bridge gaps more. I guess a good way to keep up with all of these releases would be to follow TDP official social media like their Instagram and Twitter since that’s where they post the updates and new releases. You can also follow Aaron and Justin on Twitter too since they post a lot of news first hand.

Let me know if you want to discuss more and if you want me to provide anymore resources 😊 I really hope these can improve your experience with the saga and help you enjoy it more ❤️❤️