#It's like he emerged out of the bottom of the boat

[meraki-yao]

Taylor's GQ poster!!!

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb movie #taylor zakhar perez #alex claremont diaz #Yeah this set is my fav #He's cute #But also why does he look so sneaky #It's like he emerged out of the bottom of the boat

[flowerandblood]

The Cry of the Sea

Halloween Request Oneshots Series

[ pirate! • Aemond x mermaid! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, virginity loss, fingering, smut, angst, abduction, violence, threats, obsession ]

[ description: A mermaid who rarely surfaces of the water decides to save a drowning boy. While she tries to keep him safe, she is kidnapped by strange, terrifying people, taken away from her mother and her home. On her way, she meets a captain with one eye who will decide her future fate. Obsessive, possessive, dark!Aemond.]

*Warning! Note from the author: The heroine has a name because of the plot, but apart from that there are no detailed descriptions of her appearance. Oneshot is written from a third-person perspective.

*English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy!*

My others works: Masterlist

____

She had only heard about who people were from stories and what she learned made her rarely floated to the surface of the water. Her mother said they were cruel, that they killed through need, waged wars and destroyed each other, cold and ruthless.

She also said that in order to walk on the ground they needed two limbs, as they had two arms, so in place of their fins were to be so-called legs.

She never dared to ask her mother how she knew such things. She spoke of something like a sound, like music, that it reverberated through the air and was pleasant to the ears, that it had a rhythm, that people danced and jumped to it. She couldn't imagine it; she, her mother and the other inhabitants of the underwater city communicated with finger gestures.

One day she was awakened by a muffled bang, something she had never heard before, and she swam out into the night depths, seeing little. She widened her eyes in surprise to see not the night sky but an orange glow above the surface of the water. She looked back, thinking in horror that she should return to her shelter, but decided that she would just look out to see what was happening, to see if they were in danger.

So she surfaced, feeling the air in her nostrils which caused her pain, she used them so rarely that her lungs were not properly developed, she felt like she was suffocating.

She plugged her ears, terrified, hearing loud shot after shot, the great mountain with sails that her mother called a ship was hitting another masthead with fire, and she was between them, not understanding what was happening, panicking, hiding under the water again.

The sound was instantly muffled as she plunged into the depths, but she suddenly heard a loud splash beside her and saw the body of a white-haired boy struggling to lift himself up, unsuccessfully. She could see his hind limbs, his legs unable to lift him higher like her fin, merely waving fruitlessly in the watery depths, his body sinking lower and lower to the bottom.

She remembered her mother's words about how people couldn't breathe underwater and once they fell into it, they died.

So she swam after him, terrified, grasping him in her hands; he was struggling, terrified, but she managed to hold him and they emerged from the water together, panting loudly and coughing.

"Daeron!" She heard a loud, low, desperate cry, which frightened her, for the first time hearing the words, human speech, sounded strange, not like the noise of the water.

"Here!" She heard the childish, squeaky cry of the boy she was holding and plugged her ear with one hand, feeling a terrible pain. She heard the splash of water beside them and saw that a much smaller boat had fallen into the water.

There were people in it, big, pale, dirty, frightening.

She wanted to run away, but she was afraid that if she let go the boy would start sinking again, so she held him until they came closer and she helped him into the boat, panting hard, shivering all over. The men who sat inside looked at her in disbelief.

"Holy Seven. I think it's a mermaid!"

"Kill her, she can deceive with her singing!"

"Are you mad?! We'll get a fortune for her! We take her, let the captain decide."

She heard loud sounds spoken quickly, she felt like her head was going to explode, she wanted to turn around and submerge herself back, but she felt a large hand grab her by her hair.

Something strange came out of her throat, a sort of high pitched squealing sound that frightened her alone, and then she felt wetness in her eyes, even though she was fighting her way out she didn't make it, another man grabbed her by her shoulders and forcibly threw her into the lifeboat.

She was feeling that she was cold and wrapped her arms around herself, shivering all over, her half-naked body now surrounded by the cool night wind, one of the men shouted that they were swimming away and back up.

"Drop the net!"

"Don't hurt her! She saved me!" Squealed the boy she had rescued from death, pushing away the men who wanted to touch her, laughing loudly, amused, looking at her body. She was terrified and trembling all over, a white-haired child came up to her and embraced her, shivering along with her.

"It's going to be okay. I won't let you get hurt." He whispered softly, something in the sound he made of himself reassuring her.

She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the moisture running down her cheeks, thinking only of the fact that she should have listened to her mother, and now she had to pay for her curiosity.

They threw her into a net like an animal, then lifted her up with a hand crane and her body suddenly fell to the wooden floor, lots of legs around her, lots of men talking loudly to each other. She covered her ears and cried, feeling only pain, terrified and frozen, and suddenly she felt that something was wrong.

The voices around her fell silent as she lifted her gaze and glanced over her shoulder.

In place of her shiny fin, covered in beautiful scales, were two long limbs, the same as theirs.

Legs.

She covered her mouth with her hand and turned away, another terrifying high-pitched sound came from her throat that felt like it tore her skin and she cried out loudly, terrified.

What had happened?

Where was her tail?

Her mother never spoke of her father.

She said he was not worth mentioning.

"He chose the sea, but not me." She had told her once, but it was only now that it was beginning to occur to her what she might have meant.

"What is the meaning of this?" She heard a low, cold voice and saw above her a man with a large scar on his left cheek and a black eye patch, he had the same white hair as the child she had saved, except that his was longer, tied with a black ribbon. He looked at her in disbelief, as if she were some strange, frightening creature.

"It's a mermaid, Captain! I saw for myself, as long as she was in the water she had a long tail!"

"That's right, sir, if we sell her we'll get crores!"

"Don't sell her, brother! She saved me!" She heard the voice of the same little boy holding him by the sleeve of his black leather jacket, his gaze directed at her again, this time focused and excited.

"We're turning back to the harbour. Find her some clothes, nobody can touch her." He said, and after a moment the men lifted her up, although she tried to pull away, it was to no avail.

They forced her to put on a long, smelly cloth and gave her some scratchy material, although when she covered herself with it made her feel warmer.

They locked her in a room from which she could only see the sea through a small hole and she watched in despair as she moved away from her home, from her mother. She pressed her forehead against the wooden wall and cried quietly.

She heard footsteps, quiet at first, then louder and louder, the door to her cabin opened and there the same terrifying man with a black eye patch stood over her, closing the door behind him.

"Who are you?" He asked, and she looked at him with big eyes, not understanding what she was supposed to do, what they wanted from her. She only swallowed loudly, not taking her eyes off him.

He came closer to her, and she stepped back quickly, pressing her back against the wall, breathing loudly, terrified.

"Don't be afraid." He said a little more calmly, kneeling in front of her, something unsettling in his eye, some kind of unhealthy fascination. She saw the gesture of his tongue running swiftly over his lower lip, as if he was just preparing to eat something tasty.

"Who. Are. You." He repeated word after word and tapped his finger against her chest hidden under her blanket, she flinched at the gesture, curling into herself, moving as far away from him as possible.

He lifted his hand and pressed it to his chest, wearing only a white chemise tucked into black leather trousers.

"Aemond." He said calmly. After a moment, he placed his hand on her chest, looking at her expectantly.

"You?"

She wondered if he wanted to know who she was, if he had just confessed his name to her.

She saw his eye widen as she lifted her hand, touched her thumb with her pointing finger, signifying the syllable 'Le', and then lifted her pointing finger up, signifying the lone vowel 'a'.

Lea.

He looked at her, shaking his head, sitting down in front of her.

"What does that mean?" She heard him say the words quickly, but completely misunderstood what it was supposed to mean, so she showed him the same gesture signifying her name once more.

He ran his thumb over his lip, looking at her intensely, tapping his fingers on his knee, then rose suddenly, startling her with it, opening some cupboard with a loud clatter, taking out some large object.

She saw that what he was holding in his hands had cards and patterns, he turned it towards her, moving closer to her and it was only then that she noticed it was letters.

Her mother had told her about them and had even drawn them for her explaining that people used them to write down words and their sounds.

She had written what her name and a few other sentences would sound like in their language, wanting to give her a comparison of how their gestures translated into their syllables.

She touched her finger quickly to a letter she recognised as 'L'. He looked at it curiously and read it out loud.

"L" He said and she nodded, pointing then to the "E" and "A".

He looked at her in disbelief, the corner of his mouth twitching in what she might have called a smile if not for the glint in his eye.

"Lea." He whispered, and she blinked, understanding that he had said her name as a whole, that that was what it sounded like. She nodded and he licked his lips excitedly, moving far too close to her, placing the book in her lap.

He began to point his fingers at more letters, and she followed the movement of his hand, trying to decipher what he was trying to convey to her.

Y O U S A V E D M Y B R O T H E R

You

sa

ved

my

bro

ther

You saved my brother.

The fair-haired boy.

She looked at him puzzled, swallowing loudly and nodded. She heard him sigh with some kind of relief and joy, happy to be able to communicate with her, pressing his lips together, leaning over the book again.

DAERON

"Daeron." She choked out the word she had heard when she had held his brother in her arms, which apparently was what he had shouted then, terrified.

She heard their captain snort a laugh under his breath, running a hand over his face, looking at her in disbelief.

"Yes." He hummed softly, his voice seeming calmer and gentler to her. She leaned over the book, this time she wanted to tell him something, and he immediately squatted down, looking at the letters she was pointing at.

WHY

She glanced at him with her lips tightened and he looked at her, swallowing loudly, his gaze cooled. He stood up abruptly and she was unable to make a sound, not knowing how to stop him, he walked out and left her alone, locking the door.

She tried to lift herself up on those two strange limbs, but she was falling, they seemed limp and weak to her.

She preferred to crawl, wrapped herself in her blanket and fell asleep lying against the wall, crying silently, praying to the Drowned God to take her back to the sea.

The next day, the little boy she had saved brought her food and placed it in front of her, stroking her head, saying something quietly. He then ran away as if he should not come to her and closed the door behind him.

She spotted the fish and bread on her plate and began to eat quickly, hungry and thirsty, she was given some disgusting liquid in a metal jug, but she drank it, not having much choice.

She spent the whole day lying in one place and it was only at night that she heard the sound of the lock being opened, the same man standing over her again.

He approached her slowly, crouching on the floor in front of her, massaging his chin. She held his book pressed against her chest, tried to look through it earlier, but understood nothing of it.

He gently took it from her hand.

She shuddered as he laid down on the floor just behind her, resting his cheek against her shoulder, placing the open book in front of them, pointing one by one with his finger at the letters and syllables he had spoken so that she could see them, illuminated by the moonlight.

"We - are - sai - ling - to - King's - Lan - ding." He whispered softly, and she blinked, her lips tightening, understanding enough that they were sailing somewhere far away, that she would never see home again.

She closed her eyes and wept quietly, feeling her body begin to tremble, a shudder went through her as she felt his lips on her neck.

"Don't cry." He whispered in her ear softly, warmly, tenderly, and though she didn't know what it meant, she thought he sympathised with her.

"I have no choice. If I let you go now, my grandfather would kill me. You are a chance for us." He hummed the words into her ear, his wet, warm lips trailing higher and higher, she wondered what he was actually doing, why she was getting hot from this kind of touch, why she felt a pleasant pulsing and tension between her limbs.

They both started panting as his hand slipped between her legs and began to touch her, she felt that this was a very private and intimate place, her thighs clenched involuntarily but his fingers slipped inside anyway.

She heard his every move accompanied by a loud click of her juices, with every stroke he made a pleasant warmth and tickle went through her, she felt something hard on her buttocks and moaned softly.

"− fuck −" She heard him mutter behind her, from which a shudder went through her. She sobbed in surprise when she felt his finger suddenly inside her, clasping her hand on his wrist, terrified.

He only shushed her while moving him deep inside her, rubbing him against the place from which waves of pleasure passed through her, from which she lost the remnants of her strong will.

She didn't put herself against him when she felt him lift her thigh, as something hot, big and hard pushed against her entrance from below and began to slide into her flesh, pushing her core apart with her loud cry.

His free hand held her tightly, she clenched her fingers against his skin, panting along with him as he began to move suddenly, pressing his lips to her neck, to her cheek, whispering and groaning low some words whose meaning she didn't understand, his thrusts pushing her hot, throbbing muscles to the limit.

She had no idea what was actually happening, what they were doing, but it felt good, she felt pleasure, she needed it after so many hours of terror, so she let him do what he wanted, easing down completely, moaning loudly as he turned her onto her stomach and lifted her buttocks, sliding into her with loud, wet slaps, his breathing erratic, loud and aroused, his fingers tightened on her skin.

"− I'm going to keep you for myself − you'll swell from my seed and give me offspring born from the sea − my inheritance − oh, fuck −" He mumbled out, feeling her walls begin to clench against him hungrily, a wave of pleasure shook her entire body, stupefying her and making nothing reach her, she felt something hot spill inside her, and then there were only their loud, accelerated breaths.

"− mine −"

_____

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#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #hotd aemond #aemond x fem!reader #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell fanfic #dark aemond smut #dark aemond #dark aemond targaryen #aemond kinslayer #aemond #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #ewan mitchell smut #hotd smut #aemond targaryen angst #aemond angst #hotd angst #aemond the kinslayer #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfic #hotd fic #hotd fanfiction #ewan mitchell fandom #aemond fandom #house of the dragon fandom

[pockettwinzz]

One More Chance - Y.JW

୨୧pairings୨୧ : co-worker!Jungwon x co-worker!femreader

୨୧warnings୨୧ : exes to lovers, fluff, angst, jungwon gets drunk

୨୧wc୨୧ : 1.8k

The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting eerie shadows on the rows of identical cubicles. The air-conditioning unit hummed lazily, struggling to keep up with the heat. You leaned back in your chair, your gaze drifting towards the window as you absentmindedly twirled a lock of auburn hair around your finger. Something about today felt different, but you couldn't quite put your finger on what it was.

The sound of footsteps approaching down the hall snapped you back to reality. A familiar figure emerged from the sea of cubicles, walking towards your direction. Your heart skipped a beat as recognition washed over you. Jungwon. Your ex-boyfriend from college. You hadn't seen him in years.

The memories flooded back like a tidal wave: the way he'd always tease you about your love for plushies, the way he'd make you laugh until your sides hurt, the way he'd kiss you under the stars on the quad… You blinked back the sudden sting of tears, feeling a mixture of emotions washing over you. Part of you wanted to run away, while another part was desperate to talk to him.

As he drew closer, you found yourself unable to look away from his familiar face. He was just as handsome as you remembered, with his cute dimples and those captivating eyes that seemed to hold a thousand stories. You wondered what had brought him here, to this drab little office.

"Yn?" he said, his voice soft and hesitant. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away. You cleared your throat, trying to find your voice.

"H-hi Jungwon." You managed to squeak out. It came out sounding a lot higher-pitched than you'd intended. You cursed yourself for sounding like such a little girl.

He smiled, and it was that same smile you remembered, the one that used to make your heart skip a beat. "Hi Yn." He replied, taking a step closer. "It's been a long time." His voice was soft, almost hesitant.

You couldn't help but return the smile, despite the nervousness that fluttered in your stomach. "It really has." You nodded, trying to find your voice. The air between you seemed to crackle with an unspoken tension, like static electricity about to spark. "So, what brings you here?" You asked, gesturing around the office.

He shrugged, seeming to choose his words carefully. "I actually just started here a few days ago. The company I was working for went under, so I was out of a job. I'm still looking for my bearings around here." He laughed softly, but there was an edge of bitterness to it. "Guess I'm in the same boat as everyone else."

You bit your bottom lip, you hadn't expected to see him here, let alone work with him. "I'm sorry to hear that," you said, feeling the words hollow in your mouth. "It's a tough job market out there."

Jungwon nodded, his expression solemn. "Yeah, it is. But I'm trying to make the best of it." He glanced around the office again, his gaze landing on the small plushie on your desk. It was the same one you'd had since freshman year of college.

Your heart skipped a beat as you noticed the way he was looking at it. "Oh, this old thing?" You chuckled, trying to sound nonchalant. "I've had it forever."

Jungwon smiled, his eyes never leaving the plushie. "I remember that. You used to take it everywhere with you." He paused, then asked, "Do you still keep it close?"

The question caught you off guard. You looked up from the desk, meeting his gaze. "Well, it's been with me through a lot of changes. I guess it's become sort of a reminder of who I used to be, you know? Before everything got so complicated."

There was a long silence as you both looked at each other, memories flickering behind your eyes. The way he'd always take you on dates to your favourite places, or the times you'd stay up all night discussing your favorite movies. It felt like a lifetime ago, and yet, it also felt like no time had passed at all.

Your boss happened to walk by, interrupting the moment. "Everything okay over here?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Jungwon quickly snapped out of his thoughts and smiled at your boss. "Oh, yeah. Just catching up on old times."

Your boss seemed satisfied with the answer and moved on, leaving you and Jungwon alone once again. The silence stretched between you, and you found yourself wondering if he was feeling the same way you were. The air in the office felt charged, as if a bolt of electricity could shoot through it at any moment.

You cleared your throat, trying to break the tension.

"You should get settled in. Find your desk, your chair…you know, all that stuff." You laughed nervously. "It's a big office, lots to take in."

He nodded, his gaze drifting back to the plushie. "Yeah, I'm still trying to figure it all out. It's been a little overwhelming, to be honest." There was an awkward silence as he picked up the plushie and examined it for a moment before placing it back on your desk.

"Well," you said, clearing your throat again, "I'm sure you'll find your way around. And who knows? Maybe this is just the fresh start you needed." You forced a reassuring smile, hoping that it didn't look as fake as it felt.

Jungwon looked up at you, his expression softening. "Thanks, Y/N. I appreciate that." There was a brief silence as he seemed to struggle with what to say next. Finally, he turned away and started to walk towards the door. "I'll see you around, I guess."

It had been an odd day already, and now it was ending with this strange, almost surreal conversation with Jungwon. You found yourself unable to shake the feeling that something significant had just happened between you, something that had shifted the dynamics of your relationship in a profound way. But what exactly that something was, you couldn't quite put your finger on.

After a few weeks had passed, the initial shock of Jungwon's arrival had mostly worn off. You had settled into your routine again, and he had found his place among the other executives. You still caught each other's eye from time to time, and there was always a certain undercurrent of tension whenever you were in the same room. But for the most part, you had managed to avoid any more awkward or meaningful conversations.

One Night, You received a call from Jungwon, well that was unexpected. You answered the phone with a groggy, "Hello?".

"Y/N?" Jungwon said in a slurred voice. He sounded drunk.

You sat up in bed, instantly alert. "Jungwon? Are you okay?" You asked, concern lacing your words. It was rare for him to call you so late at night, let alone sound so intoxicated.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line before he responded. "Yeah…I'm not really sure. I just…I miss you yn." His voice was thick with emotion, and you could hear the unsteadiness in his breathing.

You hesitated for a moment, taken aback by his confession. It was true that you had grown close over the months you had worked together, but you hadn't expected him to feel this way about it.

"I'm sorry for being a dick. For letting go of us back then," He stammered.

You were taken aback by his words. You had never expected him to bring up the past, much less apologize for it. There was a long silence as you both wrestled with your emotions.

"Jungwon, I…" You started, unsure of how to proceed. You wanted to reassure him, to tell him that you missed him too, but the words seemed to catch in your throat.

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. You could hear Jungwon breathing heavily, as if struggling with his emotions. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I swear I'm not lying yn. I'll treat you better, please."

Your heart twisted at the pain and desperation in his voice. You wanted to believe him, to trust him. But you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. What if this was all just some drunken confession, something he'd regret in the morning? You didn't want to risk your heart again, not after everything you'd been through.

"Jungwon," you said carefully, "I want to believe you. I really do. But..."

There was another long silence before Jungwon spoke up again. "I'm sorry for calling you, I shouldn't have. I just…I miss you so much, and I thought maybe…I don't know." His voice trailed off, and you could hear the tears in his throat.

You bit your lip, feeling a mixture of emotions churning inside you. You wanted to comfort him, to tell him that everything would be okay. But at the same time, you were scared. Scared of getting hurt again, of opening yourself up only to have him push you away.

Before you could speak, he continued, "I just…I don't want to lose you again. Not like this. Please, just give me another chance. I'll make it up to you. I'll do anything. I swear."

Maybe he deserved another chance, you thought to yourself, taking a deep breath. Jungwon had been nothing but kind and considerate to you before everything had fallen apart. And he sounded so sincere, so heartbroken, on the other end of the line. You didn't want to be the one to push him away, to deny him the chance to prove himself.

"Okay," you said softly, your voice barely audible even to your own ears. "I'll…give you another chance."

There was a long pause as you both tried to process the weight of what you had just said. Finally, Jungwon let out a shaky breath, and you could hear a tear trickle down his face.

"Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you, I promise I'll make it up to you. I'll be the best boyfriend I can be." His voice was thick with emotion, and you could hear the sincerity in every word.

"I love you Yn." Jungwon whispered. It felt like he was saying it for the first time, like he was truly meaning it. You closed your eyes, feeling a lump forming in your throat. "I-I love you too jungwon."

"D-Do you want to go out with me to the movies after work tomorrow?" Jungwon asked, his voice still shaky. You could picture him sitting there on the other end of the phone, wiping away tears, trying to compose himself.

Your heart swelled at the thought of spending time with him again. "I'd like that," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'd really like that."

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[restinslices]

Liar

Druskelle!Matthias Helvar x Heartrender!WIfe!Reader Word count: 2347 Summary: You've kept being a Grisha secret from your husband Matthias Helvar, but what happens when he finds out? Y/N - Your name D/N - Daughter name

If it hadn’t been for two big reasons, you’d like to think you’d have left Fjerda.

The ice, the cold, the anti Grisha talk. Living in Fjerda was nerve wracking, causing you to be hypervigilant on everything you said or did. To say it was tiring, would be an understatement. Yet two people kept you in Fjerda; your husband Matthias Helvar and your daughter D/N Helvar. 

There were nights where you would toss and turn, your mind plaguing you with nightmares about Matthia finding out about you. Those nightmares never ended the same way. In one dream he’d kill you, the other you’d try to run away together, only for him to be killed. Sometimes you’d be caught instead. In the worst nightmares, it’d be your daughter who was caught and killed.

It’s not that you were afraid of Matthias. You feared him finding out because you didn’t want to lose him. Either from him leaving you, or the other Druskelle killing him.

While you were awake though, you fortunately had a friend. A woman named Elise, who lived a few houses down and was also a Grisha. A tidemaker to be more specific. 

When night fell and darkness covered you both, you two would become a particular thorn in the Druskelle’s sides. Elise would use her tidemaker abilities to create harsh waves that would knock over the boats before they could depart, or icicles that pierced the bottom of the boats, while you would free any Grisha the Druskelle decided to make a “public example” out of. That among other things caused the Druskelle to have a hit out on both of you, but since you were never caught, it was like trying to capture a shadow. 

“I know that I’m right”, Elise said. You rolled your eyes. This was the third time she brought up the possibility of her son, Erik, liking your daughter.

“They’re six Elise”

“I knew what I wanted at six! Plus, Erik gave his scarf to her. Isn’t that proof?”

“No. He noticed she was cold and he was nice”. Elise waved dismissively and went to open her mouth, but luckily Matthias emerged from the back. You had to admit, if you hadn’t known Matthias, you’d be startled by his build. He once told you that he was the tallest and biggest kid amongst the Drukelle, and you never doubted it. Even now, he was taller and bigger than most of the men you saw walking around. He absolutely terrified Elise when she first saw him, and you always brought it up when you wanted a good laugh. 

“They’re too young to date” he said simply before he placed a kiss on your cheek. “They should wait till they’re older and he can court her properly”

You spoke before Elise could make a sarcastic remark, “where are you off to?”

“Boating docks. We’ll be taking off before the week is done, and we have to stay alert”. You fought against the urge to shoot a glance at the woman sitting next to you. Matthias mistook you anxious about being caught for anxiousness about his safety. He rubbed your cheek lightly with his thumb and looked at you with soft eyes, “I’ll be ok”.

You nodded in understanding and off he went, not knowing he was watching out for you. 

~~~

You peered out your window, watching the sun start to go down. You had told the kids to be home at six bells. Foolish of you to think they’d actually listen when you weren’t watching them. 

“I’m gonna start looking for them”, you announced as you threw your coat on. Your hand hovered over the doorknob, before suddenly it was thrown open. 

Erik stood in the doorway, eyes wide, mouth opening and closing like a fish taken out of the water. His left sleeve was completely wet, and you couldn’t help but notice that your daughter was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s-”

“W-we were playing on the lake and… and… and i-it’s not my fault!”

“What isn’t your fault?”

“The ice cracked! I tried to pull her out but she kept moving!”.

Your heart sunk, your breath caught in your throat. Fjerda was always freezing, and who knew how long Erik had waited before he finally came to get both of you. 

It was one of those moments where you mentally blacked out, only fully gaining consciousness when all three of you were approaching the lake. Your feet moved faster when you noticed the hole she undoubtedly fell in. Shouts telling you to slow down fell on deaf ears as you kept running. You approached the hole, hoping maybe she was close by, but she wasn’t. You kneeled, hoping being closer to the ice would help you spot her.

You heard shuffling and panting behind you. “I told Erik to get Matthias. Do you see her?”

“Do you see her in my arms?”, you snapped unintentionally, too preoccupied to care about how harsh that sounded. 

You got back to your feet and overlapped your fingers over each other, making a triangle shape.

“Y/N anyone could see!”. You ignored her words and kept trying to feel for the familiar heartbeat.

You felt a heartbeat, but it did nothing to ease your worries when you realized how slow and faint it was. You followed it, the heartbeat leading a while away from the initial hole in the ice. 

“Elise!”, you called when you saw the familiar hair color of your daughter and her bright colored jacket. Your back stayed to Elise, afraid if you took your eyes off your daughter that she would float away again.

The ice above her cracked before it erupted, it being moved with ease. You silently said a prayer to any higher power that was listening, and thanked them for giving you a tidemaker as a friend. 

You dropped down, pulled the young girl up and laid her on the ice. Your hands went over her heart, once again ignoring the protests coming from the woman behind you. It wasn’t her child dying. It was yours.

“Come on… come on…”, you mumbled. 

You kept muttering encouraging words under your breath, as if all she needed was a good push. You kept telling her to wake up, only letting yourself let out a breath of relief when her eyes opened and she coughed up water. You pulled her up and patted her back, your own heartbeat still not slowing down. You slipped off her jacket and replaced it with your own, your own arms now freezing, but your own freezing body was the least of your concerns. 

You heard more footsteps and looked up, seeing Matthias approaching. He kneeled down, scooping her in his arms and sighing, “Let’s get her inside and get her warm. She’s freezing”.

~~~

Your heartbeat only slowed down when you laid your daughter down to sleep. You watched over her for a while, monitoring her heartbeat. You didn’t know what Matthias was doing. He started acting strange once you got home. Maybe it was shock. You couldn’t tell him how to process the near death experience of his only child.

You left your daughter’s room and made your way to your own bedroom, but your eyebrows furrowed when you noticed Matthias was nowhere to be seen. You checked the bathroom, living room and kitchen, but Matthias wasn’t there. You stepped outside, finally seeing Matthias outside standing, eyes up to the sky. 

You made your way to his side, “how long have you been out here?”. Matthias didn’t respond. You looked up at the stars like he was, “were you speaking to Djel?”.

He nodded. “I was asking for guidance and forgiveness”.

You frowned. Forgiveness for what? For not predicting what happened today? Who could have? It was an accident. A terrible accident, but an accident. You weren’t even angry at Erik or Elise.

“Today was not your fault Matthias. You don’t need to ask for forgiveness”.

Matthias once again didn’t respond. Instead, he walked back into the house. You followed him, calling his name, but getting nothing in return. You grabbed his arm, noticing when he flinched and took a deep breath.

“I know you’re scared because of what happened today. I am too, but don’t push me away. Talk to me-”

“Stop”, he said firmly. He turned to face you, and for the first time ever, he didn’t look at you with softness and love or patience and caring. His eyes were harsh, his eyes now reminding you of a storm instead of the calm sea. “How’d you find her? That’s not the hole she fell in”.

“No one knows where she fell. We weren’t there”.

“Erik was, and he said you weren’t where D/N fell. So, how’d you find her?”.

“I looked around”, you half lied. You had been looking around… just with a little help. “I saw her hair and jacket”.

“Why was there another hole?”

“It was already there”, you lied once again but Matthias didn’t look convinced. “Why… Why are you asking me this?”, you asked. You tried your best to remain calm, hoping he hadn’t seen anything, and if he did you were hoping you could lie your way out of it. You couldn’t let your nightmares come true.

“You’re lying”.

“I’m not”.

“I saw you! I saw your hands over her!”. You unintentionally backed away when his voice rose. He didn’t seem as soft and caring as he usually was. You tried to think quickly. 

“I-I was giving her CPR. There was water in her lungs, I wasn’t just gonna wait for a doctor-”

“I saw Elise break and move the ice without touching it! I saw you with your hands over D/N! Why are you still lying to me?!”.

You went silent. You couldn’t think of a lie out of this. You tried, you really did, but how could you explain that?

“You’re a liar”.

“Matthias”

“It all makes sense. What’s been happening recently. Ships wrecked, sudden bad waves, Drusje escaping, Druskelle being disoriented”, he took a pause, his eyes never getting softer “it was you two. And that’s why you kept telling me to stop being a Druskelle”.

“I…”, you thought for a moment, trying to find a good response. “I wanted to tell you but I didn’t wanna lose you-”, Matthias turned away but you kept talking, your words coming out rushed “I love and care for you so much and Matthias, Grisha are not bad people, despite what you’ve been taught”.

“Is D/N a witch?”

“Grisha are not witches and I don’t know. I didn’t think to test her yet”. Silence filled the room before Matthias spoke up again, 

“But she could be”

You moved to be in front of him, “she’s still our daughter-”

“She’s your daughter”.

You froze. All of a sudden the girl he cared for since she was a newborn, the girl he told bedtime stories to and let sleep next to him when she had a nightmare, was no longer his daughter?

“Don’t do this. She’s still your daughter. I’m still your wife!”, you pleaded. Your hands raised to cup his face but he backed away. You looked into his eyes, trying to read what he was feeling. It didn’t work. He had become a hard wall, unwilling to budge. “I love you and you love me”.

“None of this was real. This was your witchcraft. You made me fall in love with you!”

“You know that’s not true!”, you almost yelled. “Everything between us is real! I married you because I love you! I had your child because I love you! I didn’t make you fall in love with me, that’s not even how my power works!”

“You’re a witch who can boil blood and stop a pulse! Who knows what else you can do?!”

“I would NEVER do that to you or anyone else even if I could!”. You stepped closer to him, but once again he stepped back. “You can’t possibly be that afraid of me”

“I’m not afraid of witches”

“You hate me”. You waited for Matthias to deny it. For him to pull you into a hug and say he’d hear you out, but neither came. You sighed, how could all of this change in a matter of hours? “You wanna hate me, but you don’t and you know you don’t”.

Matthias looked away from you. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then opened his eyes again. He didn’t look back at you though. “I have to report you and Elise”.

You shook your head, “no you don’t!”. Your hands gripped his arms, sorrow and agony behind your words, “Matthias please!”.

Matthias looked down at you, “I’ll wait until half bell. After that, we’ll be looking for all of you”.

All of you.

You, Elise, Erik, your daughter.

When Matthias hadn’t budged, you ran to your daughter’s room. You quickly got her dressed and threw a coat over her tiny frame. She kept asking questions and rubbing her eyes, but you couldn’t spare any time to answer them. 

What really broke your heart though, is when she saw Matthias. She slipped from your grasp and made her way to him, “where are we going?”. Matthias picked her up and held her, and her arms and legs wrapped around him. Her head falling in the crook of his neck. You had hoped that maybe he changed his mind, but you guessed picking her up and comforting her was like a reflex, because once he seemed to realize what he was doing, he put her down and stepped away from her. 

You picked her up, ignoring her confused murmurs and spared Matthias one last glance before you left. You ran over to Elise’s house, telling her of the news. Like you, she had to wake up her child, and dress him quickly. You two knew you couldn’t go to the boat harbor, so you started on foot to the Ravkan border, the cold air freezing the tears on your face.

A/N: my bad if there's mistakes, I'm sick and this screen is hurting my eyes. Also in the books at least, they use bells instead of like, "6pm" but anyway-. I don't know if I wanna make a part 2 or leave this as a stand alone. Stay tuned to see if this sickness takes me out.

#matthias helvar x reader #matthias helvar x you #matthias helvar x y/n #matthias helvar #matthias helvar oneshot #shadow and bone #shadow and bone oneshot #shadow and bone imagine #matthias helvar imagine #six of crows #grishaverse #shadow and bone x reader

[nerdieforpedro]

The Lake Between Us - Part One

The Nurse who's frayed at the seams

Ezra AU x plus size OFC (Nickname Moonbeam - has a name in later parts)

This fic is for readers 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 868

Warnings: insomnia, alcohol use, anxiety, mutual voyeurism, brief mentions of death, cancer and post-mortem care

Notes: My first series with Ezra! It's been fun writing this and therapeutic for me. I envision the setting to be on a bayou in Louisiana with the weeping willows and slow waters. Plus I wanted Ezra to have an air boat. ☺️ I'm not sorry for anything.

Main Masterlist / Ezra Masterlist / The Lake Between Us Series

It’s fine during the day, the rapid fire and thinking quickly on your feet. It’s what makes you good at what you do. Able to keep so many details straight while answering questions about six patients and more if you’re keeping an eye out on another nurse’s assignment while they’re at lunch.

It’s why it bothers you so much. You’ve taken your medications. Stopped looking at your phone an hour before bed. The room was pitch black before bed and the white noise machine was going. You even took your shower earlier than normal because apparently a nice warm shower doesn’t promote sleep according to the experts. You personally found warm water relaxing, isn’t that why tea is good before bed?

One of them needs to come to your house and see why you’re not sleeping.

It’s three a.m. You’ve at least gotten five hours of sleep. Enough to function. You’re awake in this darkness though and you’re well acquainted with it. There’s one thing you can do that will at least relax you now. You’ve done it the last few weeks despite all these changes to your sleep hygiene and routine. 

Your legs are over the side of the bed and carry you to your back door where your yellow crocs are. It’s off the back of the kitchen so you grab some rum and mango juice. A chair you bought when you went to an antiques show with some friends sits on your back porch and you plop down. It rocks and that helps your nerves slightly. Your large thighs press into the sides of the rocking chair but not painfully. The periwinkle sleep shorts you have are matched by the camisole that has bunched up at the bottom exposing the pooch of your stomach.

The crickets are loud and there are even some lightning bugs about dotting around the tall grass that surrounds the lake in the middle of your backyard. The lake is connected to an estuary that your neighbor across the way often drives his airboat off in. Thankfully the water is at least slow moving to it only attracts but so many bugs, but that’s also why you’ve taken to lighting a lavender eucalyptus candle when you come outside on the porch. Ironic considering the very same scent that keeps various insects away is supposed to lull you to sleep and it does not. You’ve never met the man. Only seen him on his back porch.

You know very little about him, not even his name. He’s at least your age, if not older. Tall and broad with sun-kissed skin from working during the daylight hours you assume or it could be his natural skin tone. His hair is brown except for a gray or blonde patch in the front. From what you’ve seen, he has a patchy beard that could have gray or more blonde and a wicked smile. It’s then that he emerges from his abode the same as you. He has something to drink as well. Usually he’s wearing a t-shirt or tank top but it’s balmy this morning so he’s shirtless in some loose shorts. You’re not sure if they’re for sleep or lounging. There looks to be some definition to his chest as he takes in the night air. He looks up after pouring himself a glass of something that might be brown, it’s hard to see from here and it’s dark. The man’s limbs are weighted down like yours are. Could his thoughts be running a mile a minute as well? What would lead him to be on his porch too? Is he alone like you? Shouldn’t he have someone warming his bed? Given how he looks from here, he shouldn’t have any issue in that department. Maybe it’s by choice, but why would he choose to? Divorced? Separated? Recent break-up? Maybe a fight with someone and they’re letting each other stew…

Planning different scenarios for the day, reviewing what you’ve seen, the care you’ve provided the people you encountered. Today you discharged a patient home, consulted one where the doctor sort of explained that they have cancer but it didn’t really sink in and assisted with post-mortem care because you were the nurse with the most experience on the unit. The rest were new grads, bless them but they really needed to remove teaching care plans and expand on communication, psych and discussions with biases surrounding death. Maybe you should email the state board, do they even check their email? They had to, right? They’re a government body, but are they gonna do anything with it? Your mind has spun again in that short time. 

The lack of restful sleep is having the same encumbering effect on the pair of you. Fatigued bodies to match your brains. 

His glass raises and he nods in your direction. You do the same. Then you both drain your glasses and refill them. No words are exchanged. The sounds of water, insects, and a light breeze fill the void where speech would be. Normally these sounds are what lull most people to sleep in Louisiana, but not you nor him.

A toast to another night of sleep lost.

Part Two

#pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #Ezra #ezra prospect #Ezra x plus size OFC #The Lake between Us #A Nerdie fic

[idcbabyialreadylostmymind]

Fire and Water pt.1

Pairing- Ronal x reader

Summary- After a battle with the sky people you ended up on the shore of the Metkayina people passed out, when awakened you did not expect what you found.

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3

A/N- this was a request so all creds to the anon who came up with this they gave me so much stuff so I'll make this into like a 3 part series also pretend that her and Tonowari aren't together anymore also: Texpram Clan info

You were never supposed to be there on the shore of the Metkayina clan, passed out blood leaking from your leg close to bleeding out. But that is what happens when the sky people come.

You are from the Txepram clan you swore to protect your people to protect your home. And that is what you did your dragon, Serci, swiflty she hit her tail on the end of the boat rocking it making all aborad tumble some flipping into the ocean. You grabbed three flaming arrows and lined them all onto your bow, it was balck and red made from the rocks of Txepram, it is sacred made just for you. Pulling the sring back aming at three avatars and let go all peircing right through there heads. You did this as many times as you could, but you were not as lucky as you thought you did not notice the gunman that was shotting at you until he hit your leg, making you fall off of Serci. You swam as fast and far as you could watching as Serci looked for you frantically, setting the boat ablaze with her dragon fire, she let out a distressed screech and before you could call her your eyes felt droopy and soon you passed out.

You were passed out bleeding, drifting farther and farther in the sea, but it was as if Eywa had planned you were lifted from the sea and put onto of an ilu it wasn't long before you were lifted on shore by the someone who rescued you, still passed out he tried to see if you were bleeding and you were. ''Mother.'' The boy screamed out looking at the bullet wound. Soon a tall teal woman emerged an ran to her son. She reached down into the sand next to the injured and examined the bullet wound, ''There is no time to carry her to the hut, Aonung get Tsireya she knows everything I need.'' She explains to the boy who rushes to his sister.

She grabs an abandoned bottom cover on the groud stopping the bleeding, soon a darker blue man rushed to her his family not far behind. ''Ronal what is going on, who is that?'' Jake asked noticing the blood and the strange woman it came from, you had orange and red markings all over you none of which they have ever seen. ''She is of the Txepram Clan they musted of had a battle.'' She awnsered quickly as her daughter finally reached her with her tools. She grabbed a pair of tweezers and dug the bullet out the family around her cringed at the sight.

She soon stopped the bleeding stiching the woman up putting a galze over it and a leaf wrap around it to make sure it is not infected. After the much needed operation Ronal ordered the boys Aonung, Lo'ak, and Neteyam to lie you down in her hut for you to rest. ''So what is the Txepram Clan.'' Jake asked sharing the same look as his family confused. Neytiri heard of them but she doesn't know anything about them. ''Let us talk about it another time I must go make sure that she doesn't die.'' Roanl says making her way back to her hut.

And you healed completly, but you still did not wake. Ronal allowed you to rest there not having anywhere else to put you. But as days went on she noticed you would speak in your sleep nothing really caught her attention most of it was rubbish talk but something slipped through your lips and made her ears perk, ''Do not go to the land of the Metkayina clan.'' you said her transparent eyebrows furrowed, what does that mean, why can you not come here, so may questions ran throughout her mind but she let it go still somewhere in her mind your words were ingraved.

-Present day-

Aonung put the baby down as she fell asleep, he turned his head to you still asleep as you have been for almost a month. He averts his gaze from you and to a boy who had just walked into the pod. ''Hey bro Lo'ak and Kiri are fixing to head out Three brothers island wanna join.'' The boy asked, Aonung looks at you and then the baby both asleep, peaceful. What harm would leaving for 2-3 hours bring? He agreed smiling as him and the other ran to the ilus.

And it wasn't long until the baby woke up, and began to cry noticing it was alone. You face began to move, nose scrunching, ears moving up and down to the sounds of crying, your eyes open and you jump from the cot that you had been sleeping in. You looked around not knowing any of your surrondings. Cut from your thought was the baby. You walked over to it, it was a light baby blue, big blue eyes, nothing like the baby back home.

Meanwhile Ronal was at the beach picking plants that she needed, but then she heard her baby crying. She waited a minute expecting the crying to come to a halt but no. She took a deep breath and looked over where the ilus were supposed to be her sons was gone, she took a deep breath he was so dead when he got home. She rushed to her home and busted throgh the makshift curtians and safe to say she did not expect what she saw. She watched as you picked the baby up and lied her on your chest as you rubbed her back, humming what sounded like a Txepram lullaby. And soon the baby was asleep in your arms, she was astonished to say the least and then her eyes bright blue eyes made contact with yours and it was as if the stars aligned as if you could see right into her soul, you felt you chest tighten as her eyes made you feel small, but somehow you only wanted her to look at you like that more. You breath hitches As you finally connect why you feel this way and then dread seeps into you.

This can't you can't be in love with a Metkayina.

#avatar 2022 #avatar 2 #avatar 2009 #avatar way of water #avatar #awotw #ronal x you #ronal avatar smut #ronal x reader #ronal avatar #ronal #avatar x you #avatar x reader #avatar x y/n

[inkykeiji]

you’ll always be my white rabbit

character: dabi | todoroki touya

genre: smut, carnival AU

notes: aaaah he’s finally here!!! happy belated halloween everyone!! i hope you all enjoy carnival attendant!dabi and, as always, please heed the warnings below! | title credit: bad habits by delaney jane

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, rough sex, dangerous sex, public sex, minimal prep, dubcon, drugs, reader has long hair, overstimulation, degradation/dumbification, praise, marking, fingering, size difference/size kink, dacryphilia

words: 8.8k

synopsis:

Because despite the fact that you’re in the middle of an empty carnival and on a moving ride, there is something distinctly intimate about the entire encounter, found in the way his hands hold you close, palms curled protectively around your waist, fingertips signing his name, staking his claim, in blossoms of blues and purples into your flesh as they grip you tightly; in the way his forehead stays pressed flush to yours irregardless of the vicious motions of the boat, kisses messy and inept as teeth clack and click and chip against each other, wild giggles and half-baked sobs sucked from one throat into another; in the way his eyes glitter with the lights of the midway, sapphire amplified by fuchsia and crimson, neons that bleed into his irises and tint them violet and periwinkle.

The sky is still a deep blue when you arrive, twined with wispy strands of candy floss clouds, suspended in the atmosphere and wavering subtly with the gentle breeze.

The wind carries the scent of buttersalt popcorn and hard candy on its back, weaving its way through the small carnival—all the game stalls and the rusting rides and the grumbling food trucks—and you breathe in deeply, letting the smell settle in your lungs.

“Hey, let’s go!” Your best friend threads her arm through your own and begins leading you towards the small ticket booth, jutting up from a grassy knoll like a crooked golden tooth.

It’s nearly night by the time the two of you end up in line for the ferris wheel—by far the longest line for any ride here—the last halo of weak coral light bleeding into violet-tinged onyx.

You can’t quite understand why the queue for this particular ride is as busy as it is, gazing up at the rickety structure with a scrunched nose. It isn’t all that impressive; a measly sixty-seven feet tall, with white spokes and silver booths dangling precariously between them, paint chipping and dirty, hinges tarnished with flakes of rust.

“God,” your friend grimaces, front teeth nibbling at the thin skin of her bottom lip, eyes glued to the ride attendant. “I hope he doesn’t do that to us.”

Curiously, you follow her glare, finding a man with inky tufts and low-slung charcoal jeans at the base of the ride, one hand wrapped around the safety bar of the current cart docked at the loading platform, the other clamping inconspicuously over the back of the seat before he flips the whole thing backwards, swift and sudden, the surprised squeals and shrieks of his patrons eliciting a loud, harsh, sadistic laugh from deep in his chest, notes of his amusement floating above the crowd.

“You should consider it a compliment if he does,” a girl behind you says. “He does it to all the pretty girls.”

The notion makes you snort a little—some compliment, scaring the Goddamn life out of your customers entirely without their permission—but it does nothing to soothe the wrinkles of worry written into your best friend’s forehead.

The moon has emerged when you make it to the front of the line, pale rays competing with the colourful glow of the midway, irregular clusters of stars embroidering the velvet night rendered dull in comparison to the twinkling neon lightbulbs encrusting the rides.

It is only when you’re on the platform, sitting down in the tottering seat, that you realize exactly why the line for this particular ride is the longest.

Smirking down at you with lidded sapphire eyes glinting in the flashing cabochon lights, he is breathtakingly gorgeous.

Scars—pink and puckered, edges shimmering silver in the moon beams—cover his arms, climbing their way up his biceps, under his blue uniform shirt, and back out over his collarbone. They inch up his neck and over his cheeks, curved edges etching an everlasting smile across his face. They look soft, the puckered skin glowing in the light of the night, casting a sort of ethereal halo around his form.

“Ladies,” he greets with a noncommittal nod as he secures the lap bar across the bench and over your thighs.

“Please don’t flip us,” your friend blurts, eyes wide and desperate, hands gripping the safety bar so tightly her skin is stretched taut and tight over her knuckles.

“‘Course not,” he says with startling reassurance, though you can see the suppressed mischief playing with the corners of his lips, head bowed while rough hands tug halfheartedly at the frayed seatbelt across your hips.

“Oh, thank you, becau—”

A sharp scream cuts her off as the whole chair abruptly tilts backwards, entire carnival flipped upside down for a split second before it’s right side up again, the man snickering to himself at your friend’s overreaction.

She’s saying something, voice shrill with terror, but you can’t seem to hear her, hands frantically smoothing back down your wind-blown skirt, ears tuned into the frequency of the man’s dark, smooth voice.

He’s only a few inches from your face now, palms still latched tightly onto your seat, blue eyes bright with mirth.

“Pretty panties,” he smirks at you, eyes raking over your body before he tilts his head forward to whisper in your ear. “But they’d look a helluva lot prettier in my back pocket.”

And then you’re off, ride lurching forward as your tottering little chair climbs the spokes of the wheel, higher and higher and higher until you reach the very top, then descending backwards, lower and lower and lower just to repeat the whole cycle again.

You can’t pull your gaze from the ride attendant as your cart passes him by the first time, leaning nonchalantly against the operating booth as his tongue pokes absentmindedly at his cheek, that permanent lopsided smirk welded to his face, his unblinking stare steadily holding your own until it can’t anymore, until the ride carries you away again.

Your friend is still babbling on, but it all sounds muffled to your ears, nothing more than an indistinct jumble of complaints until she’s nudging your elbow, snapping you from your stupor.

“Huh?”

“I said, why is he looking at you like that?” her voice is full of disgust, face screwed up with something sour as she glowers at the ride attendant, who doesn’t bother to toss her a glance.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, what did he say to you?”

“What?”

“The guy! He whispered something in your ear before the ride started, didn’t he? What did he say?”

Heat seeps into your cheeks, slow and simmering, and you look down at your shoes, toes pointed inward, nearly overlapping.

“Nothing important,” you murmur, his smooth voice cascading through your mind like thick melted chocolate.

She doesn’t look like she believes you, but she doesn’t push any further either, receiving your answer with an indifferent shrug before returning back to prattling on about safety measures and respect and how the carnival will definitely hear about this incident.

You’re sure the carnival already knows about this guy’s behaviour, sure they don’t give a fuck if he’s been allowed to continue it, but you stay quiet, nodding along in an apathetic daze.

As the ride slows to a stop, you feel the unmistakable twinge of disappointment throbbing in the pit of your stomach, a vague sense of yearning sinking in your chest. It’s inexplicable, the sudden draw you feel towards this man—it’s magical, it’s magnetic; a moth to a light, an addict to a fix, a craving, voracious as it claws at your lungs—and you frown, lips molding into a pout, brain grasping for something, anything, to say to him, to soak up another ounce of his attention before he’s gone forever.

A calloused hand cuffs your wrist just as you’re about to step off the platform, fingers rough against your smooth skin, and you look back in surprise, a sweet little gasp hitching in your throat, unmistakable excitement glowing behind your ribs.

The man with the inky hair and the azure eyes says nothing as he stuffs a wad of worn tickets in your palm, gifting you a quick wink when you glance up at him in question, smirk grown into a grin.

Then he’s shuffling you forward, down the steps and off the platform as he welcomes the next round of guests onto the ride, the chain of tickets searing against your skin.

You’re unraveling them the moment you’re out of your best friend’s sight, breath bated and spine pressed against the back of the funhouse, eyes swallowing down the contents with starving curiosity.

The words U + ME TONIGHT glare up at you, written across the tickets in bright purple scrawl. Flipping the chain over, you find a time and location—11PM @ F. WHEEL—in the same messy handwriting; rushed, secret, just for you.

You and him, tonight. Eleven PM at the ferris wheel. You’ll be there.

    ✰          ✰          ✰        

Murky golden lamplight filters through the dark autumn leaves, casting grotesque shadows on the candy-stained asphalt, constantly moving, shifting, changing as the wind jostles the branches.

Shivering a little, you tuck your hands beneath your arms, hugging your body tightly.

And you wait.

The carnival is vacant now, gusts whistling down the wide aisles, but the rides are still lit up, stationary and motionless, looming over you like massive metal monsters, laying in wait for their masters’ commands.

It all feels eerie, uncanny, like something is distinctly off, something you can’t quite find a word to describe, even as disquiet settles in your belly.

Chewing on your lip, you stare at the wind-shivered leaves, curling in on themselves as they cling weakly to the branches and bark, desperate for one last moment of life before a gust sends them fluttering to their death.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

You don’t know a thing about this man, you don’t even know his name, yet here you are: desperate, waiting for him all alone, unprotected and unprepared.

All due to a hazy feeling; dreamy and whimsical, exhilarating and terrifying, a curiosity starved for more.

Something tingles at the base of your spine, pinpricks of ice climbing vertebrae by vertebrae, forcing another shiver to ripple through your flesh, your head turning just as a pair of hands grab your waist, a yelp cracking high in your throat.

“You came!” the man is saying as he spins you to face him, large hands still on your hips, all bright smiles and brilliant eyes.

“I did,” you breathe out, words slightly trembling.

“Sorry,” he says, though he doesn’t sound sorry at all, gaze glistening with the thrill of it all. “Didn’t mean to scare ya.”

“Yeah, right. You really expect me to believe that?”

To your surprise, he laughs loudly, head nodding with a shrug of his shoulders. “Ah, what can I say? People look the prettiest when they’re scared.”

That’s an odd statement, you think, dimly aware of a soft chiming at the back of your mind—a warning of sorts, instantly silenced by his voice.

“C’mon!” he’s grabbing your hand, tugging you along behind him. “Lemme show you around.”  

“So, uh, what’s your name?” you ask as you stroll, arms linked, towards the heart of the midway.

“Dabi,” he says, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “I already know yours.”

“Oh, you do, do you?” you snort with a smirk, expecting him to mutter some cliché term—angel or gorgeous or something of that kind—as his head drops, lips at your ear, sugary wisps of your birth name curling around the cartilage.

It sends a jolt of shock shooting through your veins—something electric, something tinged with terror—and you rip yourself away from him, breath coming in fast, uneven spurts out your nose.

He laughs again, echoes of his melody ringing out among the empty fairgrounds.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he says, residual notes of amusement sewn into his tone. “I heard your jumpy little friend say it earlier tonight, when she was tryna yank you off my ride. Remember?”

Did she say your name? You can’t recall, the moments after the Ferris Wheel ride nothing more than a whimsical blur, full of keenness, enraptured in his aura.  

Skepticism shines in your narrowed eyes, body still leaning away from him. “Really?”

“How else would I know?” he gives you a halfhearted shrug, hands shoved in his pockets; easy, effortless, entirely disarming.

How else would he know? This is the only plausible answer, isn’t it?

“Dunno,” you say finally, mimicking his shrug as you begin walking again. “Guess I’m just not used to complete strangers knowing my name, that’s all.”

“Understandable,” he says through grinding molars, hinges of his strong jaw flexing with the motions.

Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out a lollipop, swiftly tearing the whole wrapper from the treat in a singular gesture before shoving it in his mouth, candy clacking against his teeth.

Old fashioned carnival tunes crank through lofi speakers as you roam the fair, harmonies stuffed full of the pop and hiss of static bathing the grounds.

Dabi shows you around the place as if you didn’t spend a good chunk of your night here already, eyes sparkling with a special type of excitement, full of adoration and pride as he rambles on, words gaining speed the deeper into the midway you wander.

But you let him drag you through it all again anyway, nodding and cooing and giggling at the appropriate times, because it’s kinda cute, kinda sweet, how much he clearly loves this place with all of its worn booths and decrepit rides, speeches peppered with little known facts and personal anecdotes.

You’re in the heart of the carnival when you see it, little gasp of surprise cutting Dabi off mid-story—something about that one time he and his friend walked on the walls of the Gravitron while it was moving—feet slowing to a stop in front of a bright yellow stall, inadvertently pulling on Dabi’s hand.  

On the highest shelf of the Ring Toss game sits a massive Tiffany blue stuffed lion, with fluffy navy fur and big glassy eyes and pointy felt teeth, grinning down at you.

“What?” Dabi asks, eyes following your gaze with mild interest. “You want one?

You look over at him, hand squeezing his. “Can you win me one?”

“Nah,” he waves a hand, dismissive. “Kei stopped teachin’ us how to beat the games ‘cause we were showin’ all the tricks to too many people and it was hurtin’ his business or whatever. But—”

He leans close, nose nearly bumping yours as his voice drops to a rasp, breath infused with sugar and notes of artificial cherry, so sweet you swear you can taste the sting of sugar on your tongue.

“—I can steal you one.”

His eyes glitter, a cheeky smile melded to his face, not waiting for your answer as he jumps over the booth’s counter with all the ease and grace of a cat, the buckles on his boots and the metal in his pocket jingling as his feet hit the floor.

He’s cradling the lion to his chest in fifteen seconds flat, having scaled the prize wall to yank it free from its hook, dislodging a few of the smaller stuffed animals in the process, boots smearing strokes of mud across the faces of fluffy pink bunnies.

“He’s gonna kill me for that,” Dabi says as he lands, as if it isn’t a big deal, voice void of the slightest hint of concern. “Anyway,” he turns toward you, offering the lion. “Here you are.”

“Thank yo—” you begin to say, reaching for the animal only to have Dabi swipe it away from your grasp, fast and sharp, a taunting little smirk on his face.

“Ah! But it’s gonna cost ya,” he smirks, eyes darkening as they search your face. “What? You thought I’d just give this away for free?” he snickers at your stupidity, and its mean, coated in a hard layer of condescension, humiliation pricking your eyes.

Behind him, a ride creaks under the weight of the wind, swaying menacingly with those harsh gusts.

“Wh-What’s the price?”

“A kiss, of course.”

A rush of relief floods your veins, breath held stagnant in your lungs exhaled in an airy little melody, his smile spreading at the sound.

“Gosh,” you giggle. “Could you be anymore cliché?”

“Hey,” he warns, suddenly serious. “I got no problem with upping the price, if that’s what your askin’ for.”

Desperate desire flares pathetically in your chest, clawing at your ribs, bubbling up your throat. “That’s alright,” you squeak quickly, swallowing past the urge. “A kiss will do just fine for now.”

“Suit yourself,” he’s saying as he crushes his lips to your own, a rough palm settling on your neck, holding you in place as a strong tongue pushes the shrunken lollipop into your mouth.

He tastes heady as his tongue drags across your own, depositing flavours of spicy nicotine and smoky hickory and sweet cherry. You suck on them, savour them, savour him, drawing his bottom lip into your mouth and catching it between your teeth, tongue laving over it in repetitive strokes.

It’s all so good, saliva thick and sticky and burning as you swallow it down, infused with little fizzing sparks that race down your throat to collect deep in the pit of your tummy, setting a small flickering flame ablaze. Dainty fingers tangle in the collar of his shirt and tug, vying for more, but then he’s pulling away with a teasing little chuckle, eyes sparking as his fingers curl around your wrist once again, giving a soft squeeze before he leads you away.

“My friend Jin runs this one,” he says as you reach the southwest corner of the carnival, tapping on the fence surrounding The Scrambler, head nodding at the ride in indication. “It was my favourite as a kid. I wanted to work it, but they stuck me with the good old Ferris Wheel instead.”

“Aw, but the Ferris Wheel’s a classic!”

“Sure,” he dismisses, rabid mind already latched onto something new, unfocused eyes fixing their blurry gaze on you again. “Did you have a favourite ride as a kid?”

“Of course,” you nod, a faint fondness tainting your smile. “The Carousel. That was always the ride I made my dad take me to first.”

“We got one of those,” he says as he pushes away from the barrier with enough force to leave it teetering. “Wanna see?”

The carousel is tiny, adorned with blue and gold lights and a mirror-panelled center, ivory horses, turned yellow and grey from years of use, skewered on poles of twisted gold. Dabi hops onto the platform and hoists you up, placing you on the nearest horse, sidesaddle.

He doesn’t take a horse for himself, opting instead to lean against one of the saddles, elbows perched on the curved edges as he stares at you. The giggle that bubbles up your throat at his penetrating gaze is girlish and uncontrollable, an automatic reaction to having all of his attention directed at you.

Something gnaws at the pit of your stomach, a sort of yearning that burrows deep in your flesh, starved for more of him.

“So. Where are you from?” you ask after a moment of silence, your feet dangling from your horse, swinging absentmindedly, toe colliding with the gilded pole.

“Take a guess,” he teases, the glint of a challenge in his eyes.

“Uh,” you hum to yourself, thinking for a moment, squinting a little as you do so. “Japan?”

“Ding-ding-ding!” he hollers. “What gave it away, huh? My name? My accent?”

“Your accent,” you respond. “It’s—I really like it.”  

“Oh? Is that so?” His eyebrows lift in genuine surprise.

“Mhmm,�� you nod quickly. “But—Wow. I mean, Japan? You sure are a long way from home.”

“I am.”

“What brings you overseas?” you ask, looking down at your stuffed lion as your fingers twist in its mane, nervous the question may be too invasive, too personal.

“Ran away to join the carnival.” he says simply with a single shoulder shrug.

“Sure you did,” you roll your eyes, but a smirk toys with the corners of your lips. “Hey, look, if it’s too personal—”

“You think I’m kidding, huh?” he taps out a cigarette, placing it between his teeth.

“Well, I mean—That’s such a famous trope, I didn’t think—”

“I’m telling ya the truth, y’know,” he speaks around the cigarette, filter sticking to his lips, dirty hands coming cup the flame of a silver Zippo. “Ran away when I was thirteen years old.”

“My gosh. Thirteen? That’s so young.”

Dabi hums, puffing out a cloud of thick, tangy smoke.

“Why?” You ask before you can stop the word from slithering off your tongue, curiosity swelling in your voice, clawing at your irises.

“That’s another story for another time,” he says lightly, though his eyes swirl with something dark and heavy, a secret that weights his soul, a collection of shattered memories that he drags with him everywhere, inescapable no matter how far or fast he runs. “Doesn’t really matter anymore, anyway. The point is, I’ve been here ever since.”

“Here? With the carnival, you mean?”

“Yep!” He pops the ‘p’ enthusiastically, eyes suddenly brilliant and shining with adoration again, any traces of melancholia instantly eradicated. “They took me in, y’know? They weren’t worried, they didn’t ask any questions—knew it was none o’their business, anyway—they just accepted me as I was: a homeless little foreign kid, looking for somewhere he could perfectly snap into place.”

“And that space ended up being Shigaraki Amusements.”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s more of a home than I’ve ever known—a real home, a true home.” A wistful mist settles in his gaze, hazy and dreamy and full of love. “Us carnival people, we may look like a bunch’a mismatched puzzle pieces, but, in actuality, we fit together so snugly we might as well be airtight. No gaps, no empty spaces, no janky bits that don’t quite lock together…”

“That’s…” Beautiful, special, real. “That’s really magnificent,” you flounder, struggling to piece you feelings into words.

“We all have different stories, different reasons, and yet…” he trails off, reflecting. “Guess all that trauma and bullshit we each seem to lug around does help at least a lil, though,” he winks. “Hey,” he says suddenly, eyes focusing on something over your shoulder, glazed with want. “You wanna go take some pictures?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, yanking you from your horse with such force that your stuffed lion tumbles to the ground, a whine of protest sounding in your throat.

“Wait!” you cry, but Dabi doesn’t stop, deaf with determination as he all but drags you along behind him.

    ✰          ✰          ✰      

It’s cramped in the little yellow photobooth, the seat so small that your legs tangle with Dabi’s—ankles twisted, knees hooked, thighs overlapping—as you wedge yourself in front of the flickering screen.

The pixels dances with static, the interface so basic it must’ve come from the 80s, colourful buttons prompting you with a bunch of selections, a disgruntled little sound falling from your lips as Dabi begins squirming, hands pawing at his pockets for what you’d assume to be money.

The surprise must show on your face when he pulls free a small baggie of white powder—the glinting edge of a razor blade peeking out from beneath the pile—because he laughs, shaking his head a little as he pours out a tiny mountain of snow white cocaine on the ledge in front of the screen.

“You want some?” he asks as he taps out three fat lines, already bent over his work, glancing at you through thick lashes and strands of ink.

“Oh, I—No. Thanks, though.”

“A good girl, huh?” he snorts the first line, fast and sharp, head thrown back and eyes squeezing shut for a millisecond before they snap open again, blazing stare turned on you. “I like that.”

A good girl?

Eyebrows pushing together, you look down at your hands in your lap, a little pout on your lips.

Is it really that obvious?

The question brands your tongue, sucked to cinders as you observe him, mesmerized.

He takes it like a fucking pro, inhaling the last two lines in such quick succession it almost looks as though he snorted them both at once.

Licking the tip of his finger, he drags it across the surface, gathering the excess before sticking it in his mouth. Scarred cheeks hollow as he sucks it clean, pulling it free from his lips in one slow motion, knuckles gleaming with spit.

“What?”

“Nothing, you’re just—you’re so cool.”

He flashes you another one of those dazzling smiles, all sharp teeth and red lips, stained cherry from the dye.

“Glad you think so, princess,” he says before he claps his hands together, the sound echoing in the tiny booth, startling you slightly. “Alright! You wanna take some photos or what?”

Yes, your head is nodding, eyes wide and eager. Yes, you do.

“Let’s do two rounds,” Dabi says as he struggles to pull a worn leather wallet from one of his pockets. “So we each get to keep one full strip,” he explains before you can ask why, reading the question shimmering in your gaze.

You suppose that’s fair.

Dabi insists that you go first, allowing you to dictate the content of each shot, instructions called out rapid fire, sticky with giggles and heavy with grunts as you both hastily attempt to rearrange yourself for each shot, failing miserably every time.

“It’s still cute,” you say as you hold the strip between your fingers, a line of four photos displaying ridiculous faces, blurry from movement and cut off by the borders.

“Of course it is,” Dabi rolls his eyes. “I mean, it’s you. Anything you do is gonna be cute, no matter how silly.”

Heat seeps into your cheeks at his words, his compliment somehow both sharp and sweet, little pinpricks buzzing across your skin. His voice is raw with honesty, entirely unaffected by his own candidness, the comment so blunt it’s almost offensive in tone, as if you’re stupid, as if you should know this already.

“But it’s my turn now, and there’s only one type of picture I want on my strip,” he continues, lips curling up into something sinister, a glint of wickedness in those gorgeous, gluttonous pupils.

You aren’t spared a moment to inquire as his thumb punches the START button, because then he’s surging forward, large hands enveloping your face, calloused fingertips hooking behind the hinges of your jaw as he drags you toward him.

A yelp rattles from your mouth into his as sharp teeth clack together, the edge of his incisors catching on your top lip and splitting it open. But he doesn’t let up, undeterred by your noise of pain, undeterred by the coppery taste of your blood saturating his tongue, and he sucks the wound into the heat of his mouth, eliciting another one of those beautiful little squeals from deep in your throat.  

The first flash goes off just as your fingers knot in the inky tufts curling at the base of his skull, twining the strands around your knuckles before yanking harshly.

He laughs at the pain, a loud, warm sound that spills down your throat, liquid fire that ignites a blaze in your stomach, simmering low and dull.

The second flash goes off just as he shoves his tongue against your own, a domineering presence that overtakes your mouth as it laves over your smaller, weaker tongue, slick muscle pressed flat to slick muscle as they grind together.

Stringy spit, so interspersed it belongs to neither of you now, belongs to both of you now, clings to teeth and lips and chins, slippery as they slide together. Drool oozes from the corners of your mouths, so much that it’s obscene, dollops of it drizzling down your face to collect along your jaw, sticky and sweet.

The third flash goes off just as razor teeth slice into your collarbone, your features crinkling in pain-tinged ecstasy, a gasp of his name cracking in your throat, fading into little ghosts on your tongue.

You can feel his fingers creeping under your skirt, taking the hem with them as they climb up, up, up to reveal dainty pink lace, clinging to supple skin and soiled with arousal.

“These are in my way,” he growls into your skin, the only warning you’re given before he’s tearing through the frail material, ripping it from your body in one swift motion.

The fourth and final flash goes off just as two slim fingers plunge into you, the sudden intrusion forcing an airy whimper from your lips, nails sinking into the muscle of his shoulder, piercing his skin through his t-shirt.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes, clouds of sugary air wafting across your damp skin, his forehead pressed tightly to your shoulder. “You’re already so fuckin’ wet for me.”

A peculiar type of awe infuses his tone, and he peers up at you, cavernous pupils outlined by the thinnest ring of blue, shimmering in the dull yellow light. His digits curl without warning, almost vicious in their unexpected movement, two knuckles pressed tight against that plush spot buried deep inside you.

One gentle nudge has you whining out a distorted version of his name, full of fractures, edges of the broken letters catching in your throat.

And he smiles.

It’s nothing but a sharp curve upward of his mouth, teeth sealed behind his stretched lips, and something dark, something dangerous, glimmers in his eyes.

One hard shove has you crying out loudly, eyes snapped shut so tightly your entire face crinkles with the force, words barely discernible on your tongue now, nothing more than a mash of vague sounds that might’ve, once upon a time, been his name.

And he laughs, the melodic sound heavy and harsh in the air around you, notes of amusement threaded through diluted malice.

“So easy,” you hear him murmur to himself, voice rumbling in his chest. “So fucking expressive.”

He gives a few experimental pumps, knuckles rolling over that swelling spot with each plunge into you, unblinking eyes fixated on your face.

“You are a good girl, aren’t you?” he coos, nuzzling his face into you. “Because good girls get nice and wet when they’re supposed to. Christ,” his eyes drift to the apex of your thighs, a little lethargic in their movement, his arm turning a bit to reveal the slick collecting in his hand, staining the lines of his palm as crystalline dewdrops stream down his wrist. “You’re making such a fucking mess, baby.”

A mechanical hiss sounds suddenly, inhibiting you from replying, the machine spitting out Dabi’s photo strip a moment later.

With his fingers still buried in you, his free hand snatches the strip from the tray, eyes scanning it quickly.

“Fuck,” he nearly moans, shoving the strip toward you. “Look at yourself.”

Slowly, your gaze skims over each tiny photo, taking a moment to digest each one. It’s incredible; you’ve never seen yourself more beautiful. Pure primal ecstasy encrusts your features, face warped with pleasure and cheeks shining with sweat, each picture exuding passion, sensuality, authenticity.

“You look gorgeous, but oh, the real thing is so much better,” the hand between your thigh twists, knuckles grinding circles into your g-spot, and you mewl, eyes snapped shut, hips rolling into his palm.

It’s so good, and if he keeps this up you’re going to cum right here, right now, despite the fact that your aching clit hasn’t been paid a shred of attention, only granted a few teasing grazes of the heel of his hand.

Trembles skitter up your thighs, pleasure dousing the fire he had lit deep in the pit of your tummy, flames flaring, furling into a tightly concentrated coil, each stroke of his fingers twisting the blaze into a knot of sunshine.

Except then he’s ripping you from ecstasy’s grasp, untangling his body from yours and sliding out of the booth.

Lids fluttering, you stare at him dumbly, chest heaving and eyebrows drawn, slumped against the booth wall. A gentle breeze caresses your skin, chills erupting in its wake and you shiver, winding shaky arms around your torso.

With a tut of his tongue and a roll of his eyes, Dabi reaches into the booth, hand latching onto your elbow and yanking you out from the tiny booth, calling out an enthusiastic C’mon! as he throws you a breathtaking grin.

Still uncalibrated from the sudden whiplash of his actions, you stumble along with him, breath exhaled in short, uneven pants. Pretty pink lace, soaked and mangled, hangs haphazardly from his back pocket, bouncing against charcoal denim with each of his steps.

“Where are we going?” you rasp out, the toe of your shoe catching on the concrete in his haste.

“You’ll see,” he hums out in a little sigh, eyes bright with mischief, giving your hand an enthusiastic little tug.

He winds through the fairgrounds effortlessly—past the food trucks, between the game stalls, looped around the Starship 3000—finally coming to a stop at the base of a mediocre pirate ship raised on a faded blue platform, decorated with pieces of warped plywood painted with crashing whitecaps.

It’s one of those pendulum rides that swings to-and-fro, gaining speed with each whoosh past the axle until it reaches a maximum—crests, climaxes—before it gradually slows to a stop again. Dabi leads you up the steps, metal groaning beneath your feet, rubber soles whining against the pebbled surface.

“What are we…?”

A loud laugh catches in the thick atmosphere, heavy and suffocating and entirely different from the laughs that have come before it—lighthearted laughs that had rung with innocent amusement. The maliciousness infused in the melody slices through your cheeks, haunting whispers that caress your skin with icy fingers, that promise to know something you don’t.

“Sit down in the middle row,” he instructs as an answer to your question, jutting his chin at the stationary ride as he climbs behind the control booth.

Without moving, your eyes dart between Dabi and the ride, questions leaving your mouth slow and cautious, heart beginning to race. “What? Why?”

“Why not?” he shoots back, though that easygoing, liquified grin is still present on his lips, dopey with manufactured ecstasy.

Despite his seemingly carefree nature, chills crawl over your arms, blood turned frigid with inexplicable dread.

Something isn’t right.

“Oh, come on,” he goads at the incredulity molding your features, beginning to solidify, tight and tense. “You really think I’d do something to put you in danger?”

The question shimmers in the air, cushioned by silence, your tongue turned sluggish in your mouth, saliva collecting in pools at the back of your throat.

“Nah, princess,” he continues, though his voice quivers a little, struggling against the force of  restrained irritation. His smile twitches, stretched abnormally large across his cheeks, so wide it looks as though it’s been carved into his face. “I would never.”

And although his tone is still perfectly playful and pleasant, something buried deep within his words glints, something hard and sharp that warns you best do what he says, something that assures you this isn’t a request, it’s an order.

“You can trust me, pinky promise. I just wanna show you a good time, okay?” he pauses, allowing his question to marinate into a soothing salve, softening your features, sincerity restoring some trust. “Now, sit down.”

Your body reacts immediately, automatically, prey instinctively responding to predator, and you slide into the middle booth, a sinful flicker of pride fluttering in your stomach as he purrs out that you’re such a good girl for him.

Dirtied fingers, nails uneven and framed with grime, crawl across the control panel, expertly flicking switches as they go, each one another razor ripping through the air before his palm slams down on a glowing green button, a tired beep responding in affirmation.

The ride creaks to life, rusted metal screeching as the motors whir and the boat begins to rock, slow and steady, back and forth, speed increasing incrementally with each repetition.

Dabi hops over the operating rail with ease, big black boots landing heavily against the platform, the entire floor trembling beneath his weight.

Then he’s bounding towards you, a twisted smile that’s all teeth plastered across his face, and launching himself onto the moving boat with practiced ease, slim body slinking almost gracefully into the middle row, slotted right up against yours.

“Jesus Christ,” you laugh, equal parts terrified and impressed, breath tangling in your throat. “You’re a total madman!”  

He joins in on your laughter; loud, shrieking, inhuman, amplified by the roar of the wind, notes elevated with the gusts, carrying far across the midway. Large hands curl around your waist as he continues to snicker, yanking you into his lap with sudden strength, your thighs padding his hips.

The unexpected movement has a startled scream clawing at your chest, panicked eyes finding his instantly as he presses you close to his body, maniacal laughter still spilling from his lips, spoiled syrup encasing you in its sticky embrace.

“Dabi!” you squeal, voice high with terror. “Dabi!”

“Relax, I got you!” his fingers flex on your hips, accentuating his point. “Hold onto me!” he instructs, words twined with the whipping wind. Your body obeys, dainty fingers knotting in the jersey material of his shirt, skin stretched tight and taut across trembling knuckles.

And then he’s kissing you again, warm bubbles of glee spilling into your mouth, popping on your tongue before they buzz down your throat, sugary sweet and full of acid.

It burns, but they keep coming, and you keep swallowing them down, willingly, greedily, drowning in him from the inside out.

It’s already so much, throat raw as he keeps rushing down it, senses overwhelmed, senses overridden by it all—the rapidly accelerating sway of the boat, the calloused fingers bunching your skirt around your waist, the hard lump buried in rough denim, hot and throbbing as it grinds against your bare cunt—yet your soul’s starved for more, desperate and woozy and please, please, please!

Your fingers are already sore and stiff from being clenched so tightly,  the muscles in your thighs already aching from tensing around his hips, a futile attempt to keep yourself from slipping off the ride, his bones digging into your plush flesh.

“This ride is set to last for five minutes and thirty seconds,” he breathes into your mouth as the boat climbs higher, forehead resting against your own. “Think you can be a perfect little girl for me and cum on my cock before it ends?”

“Uh-huh,” you’re nodding, motions vigorous, eyes glazed with desire as they search his face, vivid, voracious.

“Yeah?” he breathes, the tip of his nose nudging yours, gaze glittering as it sears into your soul. His eyes search your own for a moment, almost as if he’s confirming something unseen, unbeknownst to you, before he nods once, stare darting downward. “Then get my cock out.”

Delicate fingers wander to the heavy chrome buckle and pick viciously at the leather laced through it, clawing at the brass button of his jeans before shoving the waistband down just enough to free his cock while his hands keep a firm, secure grip on your waist, safe.

You don’t get to admire it, not even for a second—nothing more than a glimpse of a pretty pink tip and a glistening glaze of pre-cum—Dabi lifting your hips with one hand as the other wraps around the base of his shaft, holding it steady and lining it up with your cute little hole.  

A hiss catches on your teeth as he shoves his cock into you, harsh and fast and sudden, features twisting in pain and fingers flexing tightly, nails piercing through the thin fabric outfitting his shoulders and gorging on his flesh.

“That’s it,” he soothes, though his voice is rough around the edges. “Be a good little whore for me, take my cock.”

It feels as though he’s ripping you in half as he bottoms out, cockhead pressed snug against your cervix, cunt struggling to accommodate his girth as delicate flesh tears itself open for him, keen and eager and oh-so-desperate.

“Shh, shh, baby,” he hums over your pathetic little whimpers, the term of endearment drenched in condescension, a mocking pout molded to his lips. “Aw, you’re doing good so far, c’mon, give me the ride of a lifetime, yeah? Make this a ride to remember.”

Fierce determination ignites behind your sternum, head nodding as you blink bleary tears from your gaze, desperate with the desire to please him, to prove yourself to him, to be the best he’s ever had.

The pace is merciless right from the start, imposed by the rapidly declining time limit, hips relentless in their pursuit as they rock hard and fast against his own.

He meets you with just as enthusiasm, grunts vibrating in his chest with each rut up into you, large hands gripping your flesh as he forces you to bounce on his lap, flame-hardened fingers kneading your ass, blunt nails marring soft flesh with purple-tinged indents.

For a moment, you’re lost in the sensationalized pain, time slowing as the seconds dribble on by, slow and thick like saccharine syrup, bouts of pain shooting through your gut with each slam against your cervix, pleasure chasing it high and fast with each drag of his cockhead against that spot, pussy fluttering desperately around his massive cock, repeatedly gorged with it.

But then the boat falls again, whooshing past the axel to swing high on the other side, gaining speed, gaining height, and a scream shatters in your throat, hips slowing to a sensual, stuttering grind.

Dabi laughs at your startled reaction, nuzzling your cheek with his own just before the boat falls backwards.

“Time’s ticking, baby,” he shouts over the bellowing threads of the wind, eyebrows lifting in enticement, strings of ink flying up from his face as the boat swooshes again.

And, truthfully, you want nothing more than to make him proud, to make this the best ride of his fucking life, want it so bad you can feel your own slick leaking all over your inner thighs and down your ass.

But it’s fucking terrifying, blocks of lead dropping in your stomach as the boat swings again, splashing acid up your throat, toxic and mixed with desperate desire.

Tears of fright, of frustration, shield your eyes, thick and gleaming as you hiccup on your words, smashed to shards in your throat. Your whole body trembles in his arms as thorns of ice claw up your spine, knuckles cracking as you readjust your grip on his shoulders.

Dabi’s hips are still moving, calloused fingers digging deep bruises into your skin as he forces you to keep riding him—galaxies in the shape of his fingerprints, full of swirling violets and dark navys that will take weeks to fade, blood vessels bursting under his grasp, signing his name into your body in the prettiest mini masterpieces.

“Look at you, huh? Acting as if you’re so scared,” he’s spitting, flecks of saliva smattering across your cheeks, sick little freckles that cool and dry with the next whoosh of the boat, his features curled in a sneer. “Acting as if you aren’t fucking loving this, you little bitch.”

A palm stings your flesh, stark and sudden, prickly warmth spreading through your ass at the impact. It forces a strangled squeal from your throat, and your eyes shut tightly, body cowering into his, a reflexive response.

“But that’s alright, sweetheart, you don’t have to tell me,” he continues, sharp glints of malice in his eyes, slashing through the artificial euphoria swirling in sapphire. “No, your precious lil pussy does that all on it’s own, ‘cause a whore’s cunt will always give away her true feelings.”

Embarrassment floods your cheeks, burning hot as it unfurls under your skin, hiccuping out pitiful little cries.

“Yeah, that’s right, princess. I can fucking feel the way that sweet cunt flutters and gushes all over my cock every time I do this,” he grunts as his hips push up with vigorous determination, hands keeping you still and pinned to his body, cockhead grinding into your favourite spot, holding the motion with the boat as it freezes in the air, suspended for only a moment before it’s dropping again, whirring past the axel to swing up, high and fast, on the other side.

You’re crying harder now, sobs that rip through your lungs and crack your ribs, fear burning in your throat, each ragged gasp of air another mouthful of nails scraping past the gummy walls of your throat.

But, oh God, it’s so fucking good, pain and terror only working to compound the pleasure, elevating your senses and you can’t stop: can’t stop weeping, can’t stop chasing it, can’t stop wanting so much more.

“Yeah,” he breathes, almost whining it out, head nodding with the timbre of the word. “Fucking cry harder for me, more, more. God, fuck,” his voice breaks on the curse, eyes rolling in his skull. “Little fucking crybaby, you look so fu-fucking pretty with those tears on your cheeks.” His tongue flattens against your face, dragging from your jaw to your bottom lashes, mopping up salt water and leaving behind a thick gleaming trail of saliva. “And all for me, huh? All because of me.”  

He sounds almost proud of himself, chest heaving against your own as gluttonous pupils gobble down your expressions, gaze searching your face with such vigorous obsession it almost feels as though he’s attempting to swallow you whole, down those big black holes ringed with blue that devour everything they touch, and you’re suffocating, you’re suffocating.

“What if I let go of you, right now?” he questions with airy enthusiasm, sadism gleaming in those voracious eyes, the question a slap of reality, bringing you back. His fingers loosen a little, tapping with teasing, with warning, against your hips. “Do you think you’d fall to your death?”

He looks almost morbidly fascinated by the question, a sick haze misting his eyes, wondrous and full of awe.

“Wouldn’t that be something, huh?” he continues in that same faraway lilt, dreamy and floating on grotesque fantasies. “To die right after I stuff you full of my cum? You’d die happier than ever before, I bet…Should we give it a try?”

“No, Dabi!” you’re screaming, the protest high with panic and heavy with spit, clutching him so hard your nails break through his skin, stuffing themselves full of flesh and tissue, blood staining the lines of your nailbeds.

“Oh?” he blinks, pulling back a little, genuinely surprised. “Did I startle you, baby? Are you scared?”

“Please, please, please,” you’re sobbing as you smush your face into his neck, whole body clinging to his. “Please, don’t let me go! I’ll do anything, just—Don’t!”

“Alright, alright,” he’s saying, voice suddenly soft with pacification, like he’s soothing a child. “I won’t let you go. But if you don’t make me cum by the time this ride is over, I’m gonna make you do it all over again.”

Your ribs shiver beneath the erratic beating of your heart, your head nodding in jerky little movements as sticky affirmations spill from your lips.    

Your hips begin moving again, uneven little bucks that are guided by his hands, hushed praises spilling from his lips, nearly drowned by the wind.

“That’s it, baby, yeah, just like that,” he encourages you, a hint of patronization garnishing his words. “Look at you, huh? Being such a brave little girl for me, fucking yourself on my cock.”

The metal safety bar, purposefully left up so he could fit you onto his lap with relative ease, grinds against the notches of your spine with every roll of your hips, uncontrollable whimpers streaming from your lips.

Strands of your hair whip around your cheeks with each rush of the boat, Dabi’s face so close that your locks embrace him, too, twirling around his neck and tangling in tufts of ink.

Your combined thrusts gain speed in tandem with the boat itself, each rock forward forcing you to accelerate, desperate to keep up with the ride’s pace, desperate to cum as its speed crests.  

Your stomach swoops as the boat plunges downward again, gasp exhaled into Dabi’s mouth, his slick tongue curling greedily around the sound. Howling gusts mimic your cries, high and broken, taunting in the way they coil around your forms.

“You look so fucking gorgeous like this,” he breathes, stare shimmering with a sort of twisted admiration, looking at you in a way unlike anyone else ever has, with those azure flames licking at his monstrous pupils, a stare that makes you feel as if you’re drowning and floating all at once.

But he’s right, you do look gorgeous, the carnival lights glittering in the tears caught in your clumped lashes, rendered endless versions of themselves; gleaming trails of salt staining your smooth cheeks, hair crusted to your skin; chin and lips shining with translucent pink, slicked with spit and oozing blood, victims of his teeth.

Another hiccup stutters in your chest, whole body trembling in his arms, but you push yourself to keep fucking, to keep tugging those gorgeous sounds from deep within his chest, soft whiny moans and guttural grunts puffed out into your mouth, melting on your tongue.  

Because despite the fact that you’re in the middle of an empty carnival and on a moving ride, there is something distinctly intimate about the entire encounter, found in the way his hands hold you close, palms curled protectively around your waist, fingertips signing his name, staking his claim, in blossoms of blues and purples into your flesh as they grip you tightly; in the way his forehead stays pressed flush to yours irregardless of the vicious motions of the boat, kisses messy and inept as teeth clack and click and chip against each other, wild giggles and half-baked sobs sucked from one throat into another; in the way his eyes glitter with the lights of the midway, sapphire amplified by fuchsia and crimson, neons that bleed into his irises and tint them violet and periwinkle.

Even flying through the wind, with the background rendered nothing more than an indistinct blur of dribbling colours, he is still so breathtakingly gorgeous, eyes bright with manufactured euphoria, pupils gaping and voracious for you, for your pleasure, devouring every single change in expression—the quirk of your bow, the crinkle of your forehead, the pucker of your chin—as his hair clings to his face, spikes of ink dripping with sweat, lips slicked sheen with your spit and licked ruby-red raw.

Sparks of adrenaline sprout in your veins with every rock of your hips, surging through your blood and leaving your body hypersensitive; overwhelmed by the harsh embrace of the wind, by his teeth on your flesh, scraping his essence into your skin and sealing it with his slow, sticky laves of his tongue, by each drag of his cock against that spot, starbursts of fire exploding in your tissues, tiny supernovae that disperse star stuff to collect in your gut, melting into one massive roiling ball of fire that wreathes tighter and tighter and tighter until it finally bursts, cunt clenching almost violently around his cock, his name a shattered scream on your tongue.  

“Ah, f-fuck,” he gasps, hands guiding you to keep riding him. “You’re being so fuckin’ good for me. Yeah, yeah, that’s it, cum all over my cock like the good girl that you are.”

It’s so much, too much, and you can feel it gushing from your cunt, smearing across your inner thighs and dribbling down to soak the waistband of his jeans.  

He doesn’t seem to mind, though, praises still falling from his lips, grip brutal as he forces your hips to keep moving, hard and fast, ass rubbed raw from the coarse denim clothing his thighs.

“C’mon, c’mon,” he’s nearly growling now, teeth clenched, jaw flexing, eyes blazing. “Fuckin’ take it.”

So you do, eager to be his good girl, quivers shooting through your body with each catch of your swollen clit on his slick pubic bone, sore cunt fucked raw and pulsing weakly, wrecked voice grating your throat.

Only three more drags of your hips and he’s cumming with a vicious snarl, pelvis jerking as his cock throbs, stuffing you full of thick, burning cream.

But he doesn’t stop, even as the boat begins to slow, still rutting against you pathetically, forcing tremors of pain-tinged pleasure through his veins as he chases residual flares.

And despite how unbelievably painful it is, you let him.

You let him, because he’s the best drug you’ve ever taken, the highest high you’ll ever reach, the most beautiful collection of art you’ve ever witnessed—a living, breathing painting; a walking, talking symphony; a constantly morphing storybook full of tall tales and folk myths, each glimmering with shards of truth—and he’ll be gone just as quickly as he appeared.

Because he’s like wisps of thick smoke curling through the night; soft, potent, entirely ungraspable, slipping through the cracks between your fingers, settling into the lines of your hands. He’s a shooting star flaring through the void sky, brilliant, beautiful, burnt out in an instant, never to occur again. He’s a singular spark from a sparkler, caught in your palm, singeing your skin with a blistering heat for a mere moment before it disappears, forever.  

He’s gone by the next morning, the whole carnival and your stuffed lion gone with him, the only indication that he even existed at all stuffed securely in the pocket of your jacket; a strip of four pictures, colourless and grainy, full of ink and ivory.

#dabi x reader #dabi smut #todoroki touya x reader #todoroki touya smut #bnha smut #mha smut #tw:dubcon #tw drugs #tw dacryphilia #WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO YEAH #pls enjoy!!!

[c1phyb4ra]

˚∘ꕤ⟬ Am I still him? ⟭ꕤ∘˚

Ghost x GN!Reader

CW: None, just fluff and some discussions of struggling with sense of self. Vague mentions of paranoia.

𓆩Hello lovies! Just dumping some fluff with Simon :3. Also working on a request I got about Soap so that'll be coming sometime soon. Feel free to leave and ask/request, all are welcomed! <3 𓆪

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧

Tonight was restless. It seems to happen more often lately, given that the deployments were getting more brutal. No matter how much I scrub my body, the smell of blood never seems to come off.

But that's just life in the military. Delightful, innit?

The halls of the base were quiet and dark. Lights out had been hours ago but sleep still evaded me. The cold floor chilled my feet, despite the socks I wore. The quiet rustle of my night clothes seemed deafening in the late hours but I persevered until I reached the room of the person I trusted the most in this godforsaken place.

I slipped into Ghost's quarters using the key he entrusted me with, for emergencies only. 'Surely my paranoia would be emergency enough.' I thought to myself as I closed the door behind me and locked it. His room was dark and cold. The one window illuminated the room with the soft moonlight peeking through. I saw Ghost's form on the bed, seemingly asleep until he spoke.

"Who the fuck is in my room at this hour? Johnny, if that's you then keep in mind that I'm always armed." Ghost grumbled.

"I keep a gun under my pillow and a knife in the boat between the bed frame and mattress. Gotta be prepared" I said as I stood awkwardly in the middle of his room. Ghost sits up, looking at me with a raised brow. I look away as I feel his piercing gaze on me, feeling exposed even in the dark. His deep gravelly voice filled the room again.

"Are people just coming into people's rooms now without knocking?" He asks, grumpy as always. Though he had a valid reason in this instance given that I had barged into his room in the middle of the night. Regret and guilt course through my veins as I back away slightly.

"I... Sorry. I'll go." I murmured as I turned to leave.

"No, no," Ghost says quickly. "You can stay. I just, uh, thought you were someone else."

Then he groans, flopping back down onto his bed and turning away from me. The muscles of his back flexed as he scooted himself closer to the other end of his bed.

"If you're staying, make yourself at home." He grunts. I close the door and lock it behind me. I cautiously made my way over to Simon's bed and crawled into it, my body facing his bare back.

He still has his mask on, but it's the type that only covers the bottom half of his face. His short and tufty dirty blonde hair seemed to glow in the moonlight as he laid on his bed. Smudged eyeblack still seems to be stuck on his face, the paint making his gaze seem more gaunt and corpse-like. Ghost sighs and rolls back over, looking at me.

"Look, I'm not exactly in the greatest mood right now. So if you could just let me sleep, that'd be great."

But there's a softness in his tone that tells me he doesn't mean what he's saying. A certain softness he ways seemed to reserve for me.

"S-sorry. I just... I couldn't fall asleep and didn't trust myself to be alone." I mumbled but shied away from Ghost to give him space. Ghost looked at me for a moment, his eyes wary as he watches me curl up into a ball a good foot away from him. After a few seconds, he sighs.

"Fine. Just... come closer." He motions to the empty side of his bed.

"No it's okay, I've already bothered you enough," I whisper.

"I offered," Ghost says softly. "Now come here." I looked up at him, my eyes locking in with his as I obey him.

"...Sorry."

"Shhh," Ghost says gently, as he pulled me close.

My body is suddenly flush against his, while his face is close enough that I can feel his breath tickle the top of my head.

"Just get some sleep," He murmurs, his strong forearm wrapped around my torso.

"Are you sure I'm not making you uncomfortable? You don't usually like being touched." I whisper in the dark.

"I'm always uncomfortable," Ghost says dryly.

His voice is quiet, but I could detect a tinge of affection in his tone right now.

"Mm, that's painfully relatable," I murmured as I layed there close to him. Ghost looked down at me and sighed.

"You know, you remind me a lot of someone." He murmurs.

You have a feeling he's not talking about any of your squad members.

"Who?" I ask curiously.

"...my mum." He murmurs.

Ghost stares up at the ceiling, still with that soft expression.

"You ever love someone so much that it still hurts just to think of them?" He asked, his sudden question catching me off guard. Eventually, I answer.

"There are a lot of people I loved in the past that I now regret not loving them the way I should have. Now it's just distant bittersweet memories. A yearning for what could have been." I confess quietly. Ghost chuckles, his voice tinged with sadness.

"I never thought I'd find someone who felt the same way I did." His deep sigh rang in my ears.

"I'm sure a lot of people think I hate everyone... but that's not true." He turns to look at the ceiling, his eyes distant and clouded as if recalling something painful.

"I do care about people. It's just hard to tell because most of the time I don't want to get close to anyone." Ghost admitted, his response feeling more open and vulnerable. It was so out of character for Ghost that I couldn't help but feel nervous.

"I always felt like you pushed everyone away to protect them and yourself from getting hurt. You push away your needs deep down in your heart because you'll always put others before yourself. But you deserve to be taken care of and loved too." I reply as I sink into the pillows that carry Ghost's comforting scent.

Ghost blinked at me in surprise. His voice is a low murmur. "You sure are perceptive." He says. Then he sighs.

"You always make me do and say things I'd rather not. And it annoys me because you're right."

I took a deep breath, processing his words. I've never heard Ghost so open like this before. It's surreal being this close to him.

"Come closer," He murmurs.

I do as told and scoot my body closer to Simon. His warmth heated my body as I curled up into his side, his firm bicep cradling my neck.

"I just like to observe people. I've also noticed that you tend to neglect your physical health, maybe because you don't feel like you deserve to take care of yourself. And you hide behind the mask because with the mask you're simply Ghost the silent killing machine, while Simon hides deep inside you, still hurting from everything he's been through." I said. Ghost gave me an incredulous look as he thought through my words. Then he groans.

"Why did you have to make all of that sound so accurate?"

I chuckled as I smiled at him. I couldn't help but acknowledge the feeling that he finds it annoying to be understood when he's struggled his whole life to be invisible.

"But you know what?" He adds softly. "It... it feels nice."

"Don't feel like you have to keep up your cold stern facade around me. You're allowed to be vulnerable and you're allowed to have feelings. You are deserving of love and care, even if you don't believe it." I said softly as the rain lightly tapped on the window. Ghost stared at me for a moment before chuckling quietly.

"You're not good for my ego," he mumbles. "Because you're literally telling me everything I don't want to hear." Then he sighs.

"Can I just ask you something? A strange question?"

"Of course," I reply. Ghost stares up at the ceiling for a moment. He doesn't quite know how to say what he's thinking, as usual. But after a few moments, he speaks.

"You know... I'm good at my job. Being Ghost. The soldier. The killer. The emotionless machine." He says.

"But I'm not just Ghost, and being with you tonight reminds me there's so much more to me." He murmurs.

"Why... why do you make me feel like I could do something other than kill? Why does that make me feel happy?"

"Because you're not just a lieutenant, you're also Simon Riley. A human being with complex thoughts and emotions. And that's okay. It's normal and it's nothing to be ashamed of. I like Ghost, but I also really like Simon." I say as I lay in bed. Ghost hesitates as if he's trying to figure out what to say. He seems oddly vulnerable right now.

"Do you... do you think it's possible to go back, to being Simon?" He murmurs.

I was surprised. He'd never expressed that kind of desire before. He's always accepted being Ghost, even though it clearly ate away at him at times.

"You've always been Simon. You just kept him hidden away due to the fear of losing more and more of yourself to this job." I say reassuringly. Ghost closes his eyes, trying to process my words.

"Do you really think the old Simon is still there?" He asks quietly.

"Yes, Simon. I fully believe that." I said sweetly, his real name rolling off of my tongue. Ghost stares up at the ceiling for a long time before speaking again.

"I... don't know why you'd still like me after everything I've done." He murmurs.

I read Simon like a book, his thoughts that we're usually so well hidden we're now put on display for me to see. He doesn't feel like he deserves to be Simon anymore, that much was clear. I sighed softly as I pressed my forehead to his.

"All you've done is your duty as a member of our squad. We're all a part of keeping a semblance of peace in his chaotic world." I tell him softly. Ghost stares up at me for a long time before nodding.

"You're too sweet on me." He murmurs. I chuckle and press a light kiss on his forehead.

"Can you blame me? I think you're certainly the most." I titter.

I notice him starting to close his eyes--a sign of feeling safe and with someone he can trust. Oddly catlike for him, which was endearing.

"I want to be Simon again." He murmurs.

"I understand, love," I answered as I sat up and nudged him to lay his head on my lap. Once he did, I softly ran my fingers through his short blond hair. My nails lightly scratched his scalp in a soothing motion as I began to hum a quiet lullaby. As I did this I watched him as, slowly but surely, Simon starts to relax.

His breathing slows and he relaxes into my lap. His eyes are closed, and he could practically be considered asleep.

For the first time in a long time, he's Simon. Not Ghost. His fears and insecurities still linger, but the guard is down.

As the minutes tick by I keep humming the lullaby quietly in his ear, running my fingers through his hair.

"Rest, lovie. I'm here for you. I'll be here to keep you safe. Just rest, I've got you." I say quietly as I keep massaging his scalp. Ghost looked up at me, his eyes still heavy with sleep.

"Lovie..." He murmurs. "No one's called me that in a long time."

He scoots closer until he's cradled in my lap. He smiles softly, then leans his head on your chest and closes his eyes. His breathing slows as he starts to fall asleep.

"Good night, darling. Rest well. I'll be here taking care of you. Always." I whispered as I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, still humming. I felt Simon's arm wrap around my waist as he sleeps.

In this moment, a rush of intense affection washed throughout my body. I relished in the feeling of being loved, needed, and valued. For the first time in a long time, it didn't feel like someone is trying to take advantage of me or hurt me.

As I hummed the lullaby softly, Simon nuzzles into your chest. My heartbeat quickened from the feeling of being held in high regard by someone who found it hard to trust.

Eventually, I fall asleep too, still holding Simon close as we shared this sweet and intimate moment. Lowering our guards around each other, our bodies seemingly fit perfectly together.

Then the night slipped away, leaving us in our living embrace. A heavenly moment, if I do say so myself.

☆ Hope you enjoyed! All likes/comments/reblogs are super appreciated since it helps push my work to more people. Take care now, ily!! <3 ☆

#simon riley #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #x reader #cod #cod ghost #cod modern warfare #ghost #ghost fluff #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you

[mechformers]

Ma Miles - Ch. 13

1.6k words

Chapter warning: Broken body, dark thoughts (for a split second, concerning a sidearm), sunburn.......except for Lyle for some odd reason lol

This chapter is a little shorter than the others, that's because... well, you'll see lol I was thinking of maybe doing a short little side story to show what was going on with the guys before we see them again. What do you think?

(If you want to be tagged with the updated chapters, please leave your @ myusername in the comments! )

Previous chapter | Masterpost | Chapter 14

He doesn’t feel anything when he awakes, yet, he feels everything at once. The last thing he can remember is Lyle calling for them to get into position, the Na’vi inbound before that big whale shot out of the water like a bat outta hell. He never stood a chance as the big fin came smashing over him. Now, he lay on his front, one side of his face resting in the wet sand while the other sizzled in the scorching sun. He guessed he should be happy to at least be able to feel the pain of the sun on his face, but it also meant that he felt the pain of his broken body.

He had tried so many times to get up, to turn over, or simply just lift a finger, but it came as no surprise when his body didn’t as much as twitch. Huffing a painful chuckle, he guessed this would be the way he died. A death befitting the sins of both of his lives. Closing his eyes, he let his mind wander as he breathed, the air rattling in his lungs. He wished he could take it back, wished he could have stayed behind, wish he could have stood up to the Colonel and demanded that what they were doing was wrong. He wished he could have looked you in the eyes and begged for forgiveness, begged for you to take him in, begged you let him live the life you taught them about. But he hadn’t done that and now he paid the price.

Opening the eye that wasn’t in the wet sand, Ja looked over at the blue figure lying on his back, only a few yards from him. Mansk must have washed up around the same time that he did by the way he looked to be dry. His face was dark, the sun had burnt his skin for as many hours as it had burned the side of his own face. Mansk didn’t move and he was too far away for Ja to see if he was breathing at all. He guessed he would find out soon enough. It wasn’t as if he was going anywhere anyway…

*

Groaning, Mansk felt as if his skin was on fire. His lungs burned and he had sand in places he never wanted sand to be. Opening his eyes, he’s beyond displeased to find that his tactical shades are gone, probably at the bottom of the sea. The back of his head hurts from where it hit the metal of the boat when Sully had pushed him overboard. He guessed he should be happy that he didn���t drown, but by the lack of helicopters and ships already told him what he needed to know. They had lost the fight - again.

Sitting up, he groans at the way his body protests, the exposed skin on his body screaming at his movements. Looking to the side, he can’t help but grin at the sight. Ja slacks off on the water’s edge, his eyes staring at him with the most deadpan, unimpressed, expression he has ever seen on his friend. Chuckling, he gets up to his feet, groaning as his muscles scream at him while he walks over. He feels like an old man as his knees give out on him, making him stumble on the loose sand before getting control over them.

Grinning, he reaches a hand out for Ja to take, only to watch as the saddest smile he has ever seen spreads across his face before his one open eye seeks out the emergency sidearm on Mansk's thigh, looking up at him again with something aching to hope. At first, Mansk doesn’t understand what is going on, doesn’t understand what Ja is saying before it suddenly clicks. The grin on his face slips as he stares at his brother.

“What happened?” He asks, his voice too rough even for his own ears.

“Tulkun,” Ja croaks, a whistling sound accompanying his words. Once more, Ja looks at his emergency sidearm, his eye full of hope.

“No way,” Mansk breathes before clearing his throat, “That’s not gonna happen, Ja,”

Closing his eye, Ja lets out what should have been a heavy breath, but instead, the air just wheezed out pathetically. Getting down to his knees, Mansk hovers his hands over Ja’s back, uncertain about what to do. Taking a deep breath, he tries to remember what Ja always used to say. Support. He needed support before he could turn his friend around.

“Okay - okay… Here’s what we’re gonna do,” Mansk started but then a holler from behind them snaps his head around.

“Yo! Mansk, Ja!” The bald head of Wainfleet glistened comically in the sun while he ran toward them in a bad attempt at resembling one of those romance novel heroes. The goofy grin on his face disappears, however, when he no doubt recognizes the sadness on Mansk’s face. Immediately, he speeds up, his long legs taking him across the beach faster than before.

“What happened?”

“That Tulkun got him,” Mansk starts, looking down at Ja before meeting Wainfleet’s eyes again, “He can’t move, Lyle,”

“Shit…” Lyle whispers, helplessly turning around in a circle before getting down to his knees in the sand beside them, “Alright, alright, let’s think. We can do this. Hell, we’ve watched Ja patch us all together a million times. How hard can it be, right?”

Ja snorts painfully before them, his brows knitting together with pain as he squeezes his eye shut, the snort obviously having been just as painful as it sounded. They needed to do something fast, needed to get Ja into the shade, needed to get food, and find shelter. They would not lose another brother today, not if he could help it. This war had been meaningless from the start, costing them not only their human lives but now also their second chance at living. His only regret was that it took Quaritch kidnapping his son, and his son’s mother hunting them down, for him to realize.

*

Looking over at his brother, Lyle didn’t know what to do. Usually, he was second in charge whenever the Colonel decided to ditch. Not that it happened very often, but lately… It didn’t matter. The old guy had screwed that up long before it even got the chance to start. Staring out over the sea before them, he noted just how quiet it was. It didn’t pain him as much as it probably should to know that they had lost yet again. The RDA would have been all over their asses by now had Quaritch actually succeeded in his little batshit crazy revenge quest.

Fuck… his forehead throbbed.

Turning back to Ja and Mansk, he looks down at the younger men as he tries to come up with something. They needed to turn Ja somehow, but to do that, they needed to support him with… something. Crap. He could just about hear Ja cackling at him for not paying attention when he tried to teach them basic field medicine. Medicine!

“Hey, what was that plant thing Y/n said could help heal injuries?” He asks, watching as Mansk rolls his eyes. For just a moment, he wonders if that’s what usually happened behind the man’s black shades.

“They were for cuts and burns, Wainfleet, not 206 individually broken bones,” Mansk deadpans, and it does sound reasonable when he says it out loud.

“Hey, do you think the Na’vi have 206 bones too?” He honest to God or Eywa, or whatever, couldn’t help himself from asking.

“Lyle…” Mansk sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, much, in the same way, their Colonel did. Or used to do... whatever.

“Okay but still, it couldn’t hurt to try, right? Ain’t exactly like we have a lot of options out here - which reminds me; we need to find shelter. Eclipse is on our asses soon,” Looking over to the jungle beyond the beach, Lyle’s heart starts beating harder in his chest. They were actually going to have to do this alone now.

“You’re right. Guess it couldn’t hurt. We need to get stuff to make a gurney though. Ja can’t move and I’m afraid his neck might be broken if we move him without support,” Mansk sighed while he gently unclipped the vest from Ja’s back, removing the half that covered it.

“Yeah… Yeah, you stay with him and I’ll just be over there where you can see me. Thought I saw some of those spartan trees over there somewhere. It was just inside the treeline,” Lyle watches as Mansk’s shoulders drop, relief so evident on his face. It makes a pleased grin break out over his lips.

“That sounds good, Lyle,” Mansk looks up at him and just like that, Lyle knows that everything will be alright.

Between the three of them, they can make this work long enough to get Ja fixed up and on his feet again. While they did that, they would have to decide what to do. Lyle had a feeling that bringing Ja back to Bridgehead like this, broken and needing help, would not be popular with the General. Even though the doctors could help him heal, something in the back of his mind screamed at him that Ardmore would pull the plug on him, writing him off as a casualty. Biting the inside of his cheek, Lyle knew that the recoms were created for one purpose, and one purpose only, to defeat the Na’vi. Now that they had failed, again, he just knew that their usefulness had come to an abrupt end.

No, their only option would be to survive long enough for Ja to get well enough to tell them how to fix him up. Then, they would have to come for you, hoping that you were still alive, that your usefulness in Bridgehead wouldn’t run its course before then. How hard could it be to stay alive in a foreign jungle that constantly tried to kill you, anyway? Right…?

Chapter 12 | Masterpost | Chapter 14

#miles quaritch x reader #ma miles #recom lyle wainfleet #recom mansk #recom ja #miles quaritch #colonel miles quaritch x reader #colonel quaritch x you #colonel quaritch x reader #colonel quaritch #colonel miles quaritch #na'vi miles quaritch #recom quaritch #lyle wainfleet #mansk #private mansk #Ja #Mech writes

[33max]

hello! im just wondering lil something :) would you be open to writing something about little max but since daniel is away because of his wrist maybe someone else looking after him when he is little maybe someone like lando or someone who he is close with? :)

“My daddy is in the hospital,” is the first thing that Max says to Brad when he lets himself into the apartment that Max shares with Daniel.

It’s a shock. That Max is little.

Alone and little.

They were supposed to be going on a run, that’s why Brad is here after all, and he has no idea how long Max has been like this.

The little is sat on the rug in the middle of the floor, Mr Roar in his lap, Soup at his side, and plenty of other plushies scattered around him.

“Hi buddy,” Brad says, greeting him normally. His eyes scan the apartment for anything out of place but apart from the plushies all over the living room, everything looks normal. He can’t have been small for too long then.

“Daddy is in the hospital,” Max tells him again. Before adding “in Spain!” as though that is a very important piece of the puzzle. Max’s bottom lip is wobbling and he’s brought his hands up to rub at his eyes, Brad isn’t surprised that he’s a little emotional, he has been so brave to be here alone without Daddy or anyone to help.

Brad crouches down beside him on the rug, opens his arms, and within seconds Max is pressed against him. Desperate for comfort.

“You’re right, he is! Does Daddy know you’re here with me?” Brad asks, suspecting that this is an involuntary drop. That Daniel won’t know Max is little.

“No,” Max sniffles.

“Shall we call him?” Brad offers, running a hand through Max’s hair in a soothing gesture. Max’s cheek is smushed up against Brad’s chest, so Brad feels it when Max nods his head in answer to the question. Max’s hands are pawing at Brad’s shirt and he’s crying silently now, desperate to speak to his Daddy.

Brad has Daniel’s number saved in his phone for emergencies, he supposes this probably qualifies as an emergency, so he taps the FaceTime button and lets it ring.

“Hey,” Daniel says when he answers, a frown etched on his forehead. Brad has never called him before. “Is everything okay?”

“Daddy,” Max whines. Now that he’s heard Daddy’s voice he’s scrambling for the phone, prying it from Brad’s hand to see Daniel.

“Oh Maxy,” Daniel’s face falls. That tells Brad all that he needs to know, Max has involuntarily dropped all by himself.

“I miss you,” Max tells Daniel. He’s holding the phone way too close to his face so he has the best view of his Daddy, Brad is pretty sure all Daniel can see is Max’s nose.

Brad listens as Daniel talks to Maxy, tries to reassure him and bring out the playful happy boy that they both know and love. It works, because Max is charging around the apartment with Brad’s phone now, showing Daniel his plushies. The boats outside. The weather. Everything.

“Can you put Brad on the phone, Maxy Max?” Daniel says eventually, and Max comes trotting over to Brad, dropping down into Brad’s lap so they can both speak to Daniel.

“Hey,” Brad says, he’s pretty sure he knows what Daniel is going to say, but he doesn’t want to overstep. He’ll let Daniel ask him.

“Do you mind staying for a while?” Daniel asks, “I can’t- the thought of him alone…”

The answer is yes. Obviously. Brad mentally rearranged his entire week the moment he walked into the apartment.

“Of course!” Brad assures. “We’ll have a good time, won’t we Maxy?”

“Yes!” Max nods at the camera. “I will show Brad my paints!”

That makes Daniel laugh, even if it’s slightly distorted by Max’s thumb covering the speaker of the phone.

“Good luck, mate!” Daniel says to him, and then “Maxy be good for Brad, yeah? And show him where all of your things are…”

“I will, Daddy,” Maxy says seriously, “I will miss you every second until you is home.”

Brad runs his hand up and down Max’s back, trying to soothe the boy.

“I will miss you every second too,” Daniel replies, his eyes soft. “I’ll be home soon, darling.”

#this is so bad omg #I have lost the ability to write #and also I tried to write from brad’s pov and it just wasn’t coming to me!!!! #but anyway!!!! I thought it was cute in the end #answered #anonymous #turkey dinosaurs au

[zcorners120]

yacht date w arthur leclerc!

oooo yes! i love arthur sm <3 <3 <3

arthur leclerc x reader MASTERLIST

synopsis; arthur decides to take the two of you out for a yacht date, showing off his skills :)

warnings; mentions of sex, pda

"Amour be careful, please don't fall." Arthur overreacts, holding both your hands as you step onto the yacht from the dock.

"Ay, come on, I'm fine." You retaliated, gently smacking his hands away.

He huffed, smiling at you as he went over to the wheel. You sat down as he began driving you out to sea, as you took a couple small of videos of you and him for Instagram.

The Italian sun was radiating onto you, as you slowly button off your linen coverup and sport the colourful bikini you had on underneath. You could feel Arthur's eyes on you as you walked towards the deck with a couple of sun lounges on them, laying on your stomach.

You had shut your eyes for what felt like 5 minutes, which actually was 30 minutes. The slow rocking of the boat and warmth that surrounded you felt like one big hug. Arthur pulled you out of your daydream, parking the boat in the beautiful ocean and hopping towards you.

"Cheriee, wake up." He dragged, poking your body in various places.

"Mm, what?" You mumbled, feeling him caress your hair.

"Come swimm, the ocean is very warm." He spoke, as you poked your head up to see the sunlight hitting him beautifully.

You sat up and walked to the bottom of the deck, toes about to touch the water as you feel Arthur smack your ass from behind, swiftly dodging you to jump in the water.

"Hey!" You laughed out, seeing him emerge from the water laughing.

"Your ass is just perfect, amour. I can't help myself!" He shook his head about, water spraying back in the ocean as he kept himself afloat.

You shook your head, jumping in after him. You felt the world disappear around you as you dived in the water, into the deep blue abyss. Emerging, you and Arthur simultaneously swam over to each other, as you jumped into his embrace.

You were both there, floating in the calmness. With sweet little kisses and declarations of love you felt as though there were nothing better. The soft music played from the boat, as he held your waist and nipped at your full lips.

You both headed back to the boat after some epic diving competitions, a few funny tiktoks and lots of swimming. The day had tired you out to say the least, with Arthur trying to insinuate some funny business on the boat.

"Ay, you look so good in that bikini. Gimme a taste." He whined, as he stood behind you, resting his head on your shoulder.

"Listen to the captain. I need to focus." You said fake-sternly, steering the boat with Arthur's help as you turned your head to give him a kiss.

Paparazzi had caught sight of this candid moment, posting the two of you online on your sweet date. You didn't even care of how the paparazzi had found the pair of you, as you posted the photos right onto your instagram.

#al4 #arthur leclerc #prema racing #ferrari #f1 fandom #formula 1 #f3 #f3 one shot #formula 3 #f3 x y/n #f3 x you #f3 x reader #prema #ferrari prema #arthur leclerc x you #arthur leclerc x y/n #arthur leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc fluff #charles leclerc

[novamilano1]

The koi fish, of courage and love, the beautiful lover boy, Simon

Every time, I read TVMs (TV microscop) analysis on the substack blog, my mind is always on overdrive. Go check the last article on the fish metaphor in Young royals. The essential part of the article on this metaphor is free. It completes the water metaphor (this article is also free) that represents love. To go further, I would like to add a mention of the koi fish that represents Simon, the courageous resilient and beautiful lover boy.

In episode 1 of season 1, when Simon is first introduced home, (19mn30 et sq) with his family eating the infamous pasta with ketchup, he's wearing a T-shirt with a big koi fish in a japanese style. This fish is linked with home, family, love etc. And in episode 2 of season 1, just after the scene when Wille taps Simon's shoulder on the boat when rowing on the lake, at 10mn 54 et sq, we see Simon in the second scene home of the whole series. He wears the same t-shirt with the big koi fish. But we can have a better look at it. There is this big majestic koi fish in a circle but with a part that breaks the circle on the top near a wave. And outside the circle where the big fish is, in the wave at its left, on the bottom of the t-shirt, there is a hint of a second fish, he is almost entirely underwater, we only see the tail emerging from the water (or it is perhaps just a part of the tail's fish dipping in the waves, out of the bubble ? ).

This t-shirt can perhaps really embody part of who Simon is, in introductory scenes. The japanese "koi" that is depicted symbolizes, courage, bravery, perseverance, dedication, good luck, love and beauty. "Koi" in japanese apparently (thanks google) means "carp" but also "love". This fish linked with many legends swimms against strong currents and never gives up when facing adversities, beating the odds. Kois are compared to "samurais" as warriors, fighters. (A possible link with the song "Samurai Swords" by Highasakite when Simon and Wille comfort each other when facing a struggle, a bump on the road on Santa Lucia night ? ) Really beautiful and inspiring symbol. What's your take on it ?

#edvin ryding #young royals #omar rudberg #wilmon #omar and edvin #wilhelm young royals #young royals netflix #yr analysis #yr archive #young royals archive #yr metaphors #young royals metaphor #young royals archives #YR archives #youngroyalarchive #simon eriksson #wille x simon

[unabashedly-so]

🌊 sailor!Elliott AU: Introduction ⛈️

Sailor!Elliott AU, inspired by Letters from the Atlantic by The Arcadian Wild...

content warning: storm exposure, near drowning, hospitalization, near death experience, depressive themes, emotional numbing

(also don't let the initial formatting fool you--this is not fanfiction. This is just a HC in a narrative format instead of the usual bullet points because I have a lot of Thoughts(TM).)

I’m being followed by the rain clouds My clothes are soaking up the pain that keeps pouring down Too much more and I may drown I’m being followed by the night sky It stole away my sight, it seems I have lost my way I need someone to be my guide...

-- "Rain Clouds" by The Arcadian Wild

You board the train for Stardew Valley, weary but eager to begin a new life on the old farm in Pelican town. The locals are friendly and lively, and when you make your way to the beach, you find an empty cabin in the sand...

When you meet Willy and ask about it, he shrugs. "It's where I stayed while Robin and I was buildin' my shop home on the pier. Now I s'pose it could be used as a shed or something..."

Your first season on the farm passes with lots of tears, sweat, and some blood, if you're the mining type. Summer only increases the sweat.

The locals forewarn of the Clockwork Storms--storm cells that always generate on Summer 13 and 26, every year, unfailingly. They warn they're usually the worst of the year and recommend you prepare accordingly and just bunker down with the rest of them.

Sure enough, Summer 13's Clockwork Storm hits with flashes bright as the sun and bangs that make the ground tremble.

Emerging on the 14th, you count yourself lucky that you only lost a few crops to the storm. On your way to Pierre's to recoup your losses, you hear some commotion from the beach. Curiosity and concern draw you to the source, and you hurry to the pier to find Willy hauling something out of his boat. A big something.

The closer you get, the thing starts to take the form of--

"He's still breathin', I think!" Willy grunts. "Come quick, help me get'm up on the deck."

You and Willy manage to get the man off the boat and onto the deck of the pier. The man's long, reddish-auburn hair is tied back in a frayed braid, and he's bare chested, his shoulders and back hot and beginning to blister from exposure. His olive green pants, once rolled at the bottom, are now ragged and torn. Willy was right--he is breathing, but it's shallow. He's gaunt and scalding hot to the touch, but alive, despite it all.

As you're assessing him, his eyes flutter open. He's dazed. It seems to take a great effort to even move his eyes. You're unsure if he's even conscious. Then his eyes land on you. There's a brief but vibrant spark, and you can't help but notice his eyes are the same verdant green that reminds you of your new home on the farm. His lips part as if to speak, but nothing comes out. His eyes flutter shut

You have the good sense to know that if this man's going to survive, he needs to be brought to the clinic--there's nothing to be done for him here. You and Willy manage to get him to the clinic where he's promptly tended to and given emergency, likely life-saving measures. After a tenuous hour or so, Harvey emerges and said that he believes the man has stabilized, but he's horribly sun poisoned and dehydrated, and that's just what he can tell on the surface. Harvey says he's working with limited resources, but he'll do everything he can to give the guy the best chance at pulling through. He encourages you to come by tomorrow and check in.

The clinic is closed for the rest of the day.

- - -

If you choose to return on the 15th, Harvey approves, and gives you the update that the man remained stable overnight, but he's still very weak and will likely wake up in a lot of pain. But he will likely wake up, Harvey reiterates with relief

- - -

If you choose to return on the 16th, Harvey approves, and says that the man seems to be recovering. He says there's brief flashes of consciousness and he seems to attend to questions, but he's still too dazed to speak. Harvey encourages you to come by again tomorrow. He anticipates he'll be well enough to interact with for brief periods of time.

- - -

If you return on the 17th, you'll walk in on Harvey assessing the man, who is now fully conscious. As predicted, he appears to be in a fair amount of pain, but Harvey is confident that it's just residual soreness and sunburns. Harvey introduces you as one of the people who helped save him.

The man takes you in with a weary gaze, one that soon softens and warms. He sounds breathless as he says, "Thank you."

The man quickly clears his throat, trying again. His voice is still weak and raspy, as he says, "Thank you... I owe you... my life." He swallows, a challenging thing. "Elliott," he manages, shakily holding his hand out.

You give your name, and reach to shake his hand. Instead, he gently draws your hand to him and kisses your knuckles with his sun-chapped lips.

Elliott winces as he lays back, visibly drained. Harvey encourages Elliott to go back to resting, and for you to return to your day. As you're leaving, you hear a weak, hoarse voice trying desperately to be heard.

"Come back..."

You turn around. Elliott has his eyes closed and is lying still. He takes another breath, then looks to you through a half-lidded gaze.

"...tomorrow?" Elliott finishes.

You nod.

- - -

If you come back on the 18th, Harvey and Elliott approve. Elliott is sitting up on the bed reading when you come in.

He looks up and greets you by name. It looks like he's been given the chance to wash up--he looks brighter, and his auburn reddish hair shines, tied back loosely at his shoulders and pulled to the side with less bandages on it. He's shirtless, skin almost as red as his hair, and you can see all the bandages across his shoulders and back.

What happened to your shirt?

(no change in approval) Elliott blinks. "It was too painful to keep taking it off and putting it back on again for bandage changes. I hope it doesn't bother you."

How are you feeling today?

(approval gain) Elliott gives a polite smile. "Moving hurts, breathing hurts… but I can do both, and for that I am thankful."

What are you reading?

(approval gain) Elliott lights up, flashing the cover. "Kind doctor Harvey was generous enough to lend me a tome from his collection. It's a collection of short stories he had left over from his undergraduate studies. Turns out we went to university around the same time, so it's been a wonderful trip down memory lane. And a relief that it wasn't one of his medical textbooks!"

ALL PATHS CONVERGE: "So… I'm guessing you're probably curious as to how I got here? Besides, of course, the part where you pulled me from death's doorstep."

From the other room, Harvey interjects, monotone, "You weren't on death's doorstep."

"Alright, then you pulled me from the speeding taxi to Death's neighborhood?" he lifts the end of the sentence, looking towards the sound of Harvey's voice for approval.

Harvey's voice comes after a pause, "Wordy, but accurate."

"We'll workshop it," Elliott calls back, then turns his attention back to you. "So, yes, I'm afraid it's not much of a story--unlucky wayfaring sailor caught in a bad storm… The Clockwork Storms, I'm told a bit too late. I've held my own against a few storms in my day, but this was… I didn't give my love the respect she deserves, and as they say, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. A mistake I won't make twice!"

(A perceptive farmer notices a certain flippancy about his story that seems out of place for a man who otherwise appears passionate and verbose.)

He goes on, "Oh, [name], I've been meaning to ask--did you happen to find any of my possessions or a rucksack on me when you revived me?"

You shake your head, indicating it was Willy who got to him first.

"So Willy was the one who pulled me from the sea, and you helped him get me from shore to here? Oh dear, I really was succumbed. Ah well. I'll check with him tomorrow after I get discharged. It'd be nice to have my own clothes back, among other things.

"Thanks for stopping by. It means a lot. I've been many places, and so few as full of kindness as here. I do hope to get to see you again tomorrow."

- - -

Elliott gets discharged from the hospital on the 19th. If you enter Pelican Town before 5pm, you'll encounter Elliott leaving the clinic. He looked well-kept, freshly shaven, and his clothes have been laundered. He wears his same olive green pants and a plain white shirt. He'll flag you down and ask you to help him find his way around.

Sorry, I'm too busy right now.

(no change in approval) Elliott visibly deflates, but forces a smile. "Ah, well. I... suppose I've seen myself through larger ports than this. No matter, I'll find my own way..."

(the cutscene ends with Elliott meandering towards the east side of town, murmuring about finding Willy.)

I'd be happy to!

(Elliott approves) Elliott beams. "Splendid. I knew I could rely on your kindness to see me through."

A short montage style cutscene follows where the farmer appears with Elliott in front of the different areas in Pelican Town. He's shown having a few introductions to the people around town, having a little heart bubble over his head at the library, having a very lively conversation with Robin [about building boats], and going to Pierre's to stock up on a few things. Finally, the farmer walks Elliott over the bridge to the beach.

Elliott takes in a big breath of the sea air and releases it contentedly. "Back again... lovely place, when one's conscious enough to enjoy it."

You take him over to the docks near Willy's shop, and Willy enters the scene from the ocean on his fishing boat. Willy greets you and Elliott. He addresses Elliott, "I remember you sayin' you'd had some belongings so I went back to about where I'd found ya, accountin' fer a few days drift and whatnot, and poked around a bit..."

Willy steps out of his boat and onto the docks, handing him a plank of wood with splintered edges. It has the name of his boat painted on it, but you can't make it out before he puts it under his arm as Willy then hands him a battered and torn rucksack. "Found these. Thought you might like that back. The rucksack I saw was caught on a splintered piece of, well, what's now driftwood, unfortunately."

"I can't begin to thank you enough." Elliott begins to dig through the rucksack. "Once I can get the saltwater out of my town clothes, I'll feel so much more... Hmm." He frowns. "Where's...? I know I put it in here..."

Elliott continues to search. He kneels on the dock and takes out every article of clothing, a few pens, hair ties, soaked rations, and some spare g contained in the rucksack until it is flat and empty. His demeanor begins to falter. "Uh, Willy? A book. Was there a book? Brown leather, bound across the cover with a string, papers, envelopes, writing inside? Did you find anything like that?"

Willy can tell Elliott's becoming distressed. "I... I'm 'fraid not, nothing that I seen like that. I'm sorry."

Elliott stares at the contents of the rucksack. There's an immense heaviness to his features. He kneels there in silence, hardly moving, for a several moments. Finally, he says, "I... see." His voice is low, with no affect. He slowly, numbly, puts the items back in the torn rucksack. Once they're back in, he stands, a bit unsteady. He doesn't look at you or Willy, but you can see the rims of his eyes are red.

"Sincerely, thank you, both of you... I am just... That book was... important. I... need some time alone... please, excuse me."

Elliott walks off screen and the cutscene ends.

Elliott's sprite will remain sitting on the beach, unresponsive, for the remainder of the day. When it becomes dark, he'll move to one of the towels on the beach and lay down, still unresponsive. The game is set not to rain or storm on Summer 19 or 20th.

- - -

If you return to the beach on the 20th, Elliott will still be back to sitting by the water, unresponsive. Willy will approach you, saying he talked to Robin about getting a bed for the old cabin, and that he's gonna let Elliott stay there. He says he picked the best time to stay on the beach, but it won't be that way for long. Willy asks for your help to talk to Elliott. You nod.

You and Willy approach Elliott.

Alright, that's enough moping.

(no approval change) Elliott remains unresponsive.

Hey, there's a cabin you can stay in.

(no approval change) Elliott doesn't look up, distantly shrugs.

Elliott? It's [name] and Willy. We're concerned for you.

(no approval change) Elliott meets your gaze. His eyes are dull and red rimmed. His voice is raspy as he says, "Sorry?"

ALL PATHS CONVERGE: Willy clears his throat. "Ain't right to let somebody stay out in the elements without at least offerin' refuge." Willy motions to the cabin. "Robin'll be by with a bed soon. It ain't much, but you're welcome to use it for s'long as you need."

Elliott's mouth hangs slightly open as he looks between the two of you. He swallows, starts to speak but his voice is cracked. He clears his throat and starts again. "Truly? ...Your kindness knows no bounds."

Willy offers him a hand to help him get up and Elliott takes it, slow to rise. You and Willy walk Elliott over to the cabin and Willy opens the door, letting you all in. It's musty inside, but the sunlight coming through the window gives it a warm, cozy glow.

Willy excuses himself: "Lemme go see about that bed. I reckon she may have other furniture to spare too."

Elliott is quiet for a few moments when you are both alone.

Put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

(Elliott approves) Elliott almost flinches, then like melting ice relaxes into your touch. After a moment, he looks to you and says, "Thank you, [name]. I'm... at a loss for words."

I'll go see about helping, too.

(no approval change) As you turn to leave, Elliott stops you.

ALL PATHS CONVERGE: "I apologize for my... persistent moroseness. Give me a few days, and I'll come around. I'd be happy to speak more with you then."

Elliott is inaccessible for the next 3 days and does not attend any festivals during that time.

- - -

On Summer 23, he begins his normal routine.

He'll greet the farmer the first time they interact with a tired but optimistic smile. "Good to see you again, [name]. Thank you for your understanding earlier. Things still hurt, my heart chief among them, but if grief is love with nowhere to go, it's time to turn my sails to the wind and chart a new course. First things first, I need a new boat... time to get to work!"

If you talk to him again, he'll add, "I'll be keeping myself busy rebuilding, but don't let that turn you into a stranger. Stop by any time. Some company every now and then would be nice."

(end notes: I chose not to give any reactions to when he kisses the farmer's hand in the clinic because we all know what we're here for and it's not to be mean.)

sailor!Elliott AU inventory:

Introduction | General Overworld HCs | Heart Events 1-10 | Proposal and Marriage

#stardew Valley #sdv #sdv community #sdv elliott #stardew elliott #sdv elliott x reader #elliott stardew valley #sailor!elliott au #the arcadian wild #good LORDT i thought this was just gonna be a fart in the wind #NOPE OK GUESS I'M WRITING A FUCKING COMPENDIUM #...........i mean i AM writing THAT too...... later #anyway i hope y'all enjoy because this has really been a point of joy during a very stressful time for me 💖 #unabashedly posting

[long-lost-mcguffin]

Pull of The Tides: my silly ninjago pirate au

idek where to start so.

A little after Morro runs away from Wu, he starts looking for the First Spinjitsu Master's tomb. Obviously not getting much luck, he finds a harbor town, and a strange demon woman who promises to help him exact his revenge on destiny. Resuming his search for the FSM's tomb, he turns to the seas after hearing rumors the tomb is at the bottom of the ocean, and starts a small but strong group of pirates on a stolen boat.

A few years later, he raids a village through it's rivers for rice and money, and finds a blacksmith shop with a small boy challenging him with a crude sword. His smaller sister stands behind him, yelling at him to get out.

Instead of fighting them, Morro takes them with his crew and raises them like siblings, learning they have elemental powers like him: the girl controlling water, and the boy controlling fire. Immediately Morro begins training them in combat and helping them control their powers, both so that they can be of use to him and so they don't sink his ship. The girl, being named Nya 'Waterwalker' Jiang, and the boy named Kai 'Flint' Jiang.

About 10 years go by, and Wu becomes very confused to find an empty blacksmith's shop, one that looks like it's empty for quite some time. Asking nearby neighbors gets him dead ends and more confusion, so he goes back to the monastery empty handed and continues training his own students, Jay, Cole and Zane.

However, when they get an emergency letter from a coastal village asking for defense from pirates with elemental powers, things start to click. Wu finds a familiar face on the captain draped in green commanding wind, and two others who bear a striking resemblance to his missing friends, Ray and Maya.

Wu tells his former student that whatever he's looking for, he'll have to go through him and his students. Captain Morro informs him that his quest for his father's tomb has been abandoned, and his crew is now looking for something- or someone- more powerful: the green ninja.

It becomes a race against each other to find whoever and wherever this green ninja is, with Morro somehow ending up with another kid who says he's the son of Lord Garmadon himself. He's a brat. Morro's not too sure why he's still on the ship.

feel free to send asks about this au!!

PT skins of kai, morro, and nya under the cut :3

#ninjago #ninjago au #pull of the tides au #kai smith #kai jiang #nya smith #nya jiang #morro wu #morro ninjago #kai ninjago #nya ninjago #EEHHEHHEEHEEHHEHEHE I CAN FINALLY POST ABOUT TGHIS #please please please please please ask questions abt this au its rotting my brain #pony time

[pitifulbaby]

uncharted waters

summary: being a prince wasn’t what Steve wanted, he wanted adventure in the sea. he wanted freedom from the strict life he was given, he wanted to be himself and not the royalty that was bestowed upon him.

pairings: Prince!Steve x Fem!Mermaid!Reader

warnings: depiction of boat crash and fire, steve has big feelings

a/n: i’m gonna be honest in the fact that i have been trying to write this ever since i saw the live action little mermaid which was in may. maybe ill write more for this or maybe i wont it just depends on my brain and if people like this? anyways, enjoy! 4.4k words

The whirling of the wind was a constant on the ocean, which was wonderful in getting a boat across the open waters to and fro its destinations. The hum of the waves and buzzing of the winds mixed beautifully, the occasional squawk of a seagull here and there depending on just how close you might be to the shore. 

To some, being on a ship was terrifying, the rocking back and forth as well as not knowing just what was in the deep blue this giant piece of wood was moving across. It was a horrifying idea, especially when you think just how deep the ocean is. Who truly knows what is lurking deep, deep down? 

But to Steve Harrington, the sea was his favorite thing. The thrill of sailing was intoxicating, there seemed to never be a dull moment with his crew. The Prince knew he probably shouldn’t enjoy being on the ship as much as he did, but could you blame him? He knows he should be thankful to be born into royalty, he was given a world many could only dream of. But at what cost?

Sure he had the world at his fingertips, but only to a point. He had rules after rules to follow, his clothing had to be pristine at all times, no slouching- the list goes on and on. The one time he felt himself was out at sea, the breeze in his hair and spray of water against his tanned, freckled skin made him feel alive. 

King Matthew Harrington and Queen Doris were off to some other kingdom for ‘business’ but Steve knew it was just a glorified vacation away from their own home. His parents enjoyed being rulers, but they didn’t enjoy the working part of it. 

So that's why they seemed to always be away doing their work, or, lack of it. 

The work was then placed on their son, Prince Steve. Steve was still in his late teens and already had the weight of the kingdom placed upon his shoulders. The Kingdom was smaller than the neighboring ones, the palace built upon the shorelines of Hawkins, overlooking the sea. 

Though the Prince was old enough to look after himself, he was still placed in the care of his majordomo and confidant whenever his parents were gone- which was most of the time. Jim, or as he is referred to as Hopper, is a hulking figure of a man, around the age of Steve’s parents. He was hard headed, but never cruel. Steve had more of a father son relationship with Sir Hopper than he does with his own. 

The day was gone, leaving dark skies with shimmering stars and a big moon in its wake. Upon the royal ship was Steve and his crew, one of his crewmates- and closest friends Robin, thought it would be a wonderful idea to celebrate the male's birthday by sailing out, light some fireworks off and just have a bit of fun. So that's what they decided to do for his 19th birthday. 

Laughter filled the top deck of the ship, cups were filled with drinks, the atmosphere was light and happy. It was something Steve needed, he didn’t feel like a prince in the moment, he simply felt like a teenage boy. 

Unbeknownst to anyone upon the ship, they were being watched. Not in a bad way, but curious eyes seemed to be glued to the rowdy crew. In the water was you, a creature of the sea, a mermaid. 

Attached to the side of the ship were lifeboats in case of emergencies, hoisted right above the water. You had managed to hoist yourself into one of the boats, the railings of the ship had arches at the bottom of them so you were able to look in, eyes wandering across the group. The only way you would be seen was if someone was looking for you.

All you have known was life under the ocean, because that's all you were shown. Your father was very strict about the surface world, but why is it always the things we can’t have, become the things we are most interested in?

You were never allowed to venture off far, never get close to any other humans, never this and never that. Like Steve you just wanted more but you were glued to these rules. You couldn’t step a toe- in your case, fin, out of line. But that didn’t stop your curiosity, it seemed that since you couldn’t have it, the urge for it was stronger.

But today seemed to be the closest you have ever gotten to another human other than your father, sure you have swam to the surface but that was only to visit father, but never were you this close to anyone else. People were odd to you in a sense, but they were absolutely fascinating. They seemed to lose things rather easily, which sucked for them but earned a hyperfixation for you and the lost objects. Hidden in your grotto was a plethora of odd findings, things that you didn’t know the names of so you gave them your own. 

Those thoughts seemed to slip away as you admired the crew, eyes wide and full of wonder. You knew you shouldn’t be here, you knew that if you were seen you would get caught and who knows what they would do. Your father told you that humans were ruthless, told you gruesome stories to try and get you from losing interest in humans. 

But they were just so fascinating, and they made such odd and amazing things! 

Your hands rested against the side of the ship, resting against it to try and see further into the boat. You just wanted to observe, see how they lived. But, you were caught, luckily though, not  by a human. A creature seemed to notice you, a rather big and fluffy one at that. If you remembered correctly it was a dog that sensed you. With a wagging tail and paws padding against the wood, the animal trotted over to you.

Luckily no one noticed, yet. You couldn’t help the quiet laugh that slipped past your lips, the dog sticking its face through the opening and sniffing your outstretched hand before licking you. Moving your hand slowly you let your fingers run through the fur. The texture of the animal was odd, the fur absorbing the water from your hands. But the dog didn’t seem to mind the drops of water, too distracted by the mermaid.

“Dart! C’mon boy, you’re gonna get stuck.” A voice soon called out, as the voice rings through, you quickly duck down and move away from the opening of the railing.

You were hidden from their view, but you could still see them. A tall gruff man shoos the dog, whom you have found out is named Dart, away from the opening. 

“Dart, you getting into trouble?” This time the words were spoken by a different voice, his voice calm as he spoke to the dog. Shifting in the boat you moved your head and caught a glimpse of who was speaking. He was a tall male, though not as tall as the one before him. Fluffy dark hair, and he adorned a flowy white shirt, tucked into a pair of trousers with a deep blue vest over the shirt, finished off with a sash around his waist. His smile was wide, sun kissed skin and soft freckles gracing his features.

He was breathtaking. The sight of him caused your interest to somehow be more peeked, keeping a close eye on the boy who seemed not much older than you. 

The crew soon was moving their attention to one of the crew members. Her hair was short- not even touching the tops of her shoulders. Her attire was similar to the pretty males, but she ditched the vest and her clothes weren’t as pristine as his. With a laugh she was moving to a large object draped with fabric, hiding whatever it was. 

She then hopped on top of a crate next to the object- a little clumsy with her actions before she was raising her cup high and smacking the side of the metal with a spoon a few times. The clanking caused laughter from the crew, Steve couldn’t help but roll his eyes with a laugh at her antics. “As we all know our lovely-” the last word was said with a fake gag, “Prince Steve is finally turning nineteen!” Her voice was a bit low with a natural rasp. 

Her hands waved when she spoke, some of the liquid in her cup splashing onto one of the other crew members, he looked to be the youngest of them all. “Seriously, Robin?” He questioned, his words having a faint lisp to them. “Sorry Dustin,” She said with a fake glare to the younger boy.

“Anyways, as I was saying,” She passes her cup and spoon off to someone else, “Since it is his birthday, we have all decided on getting you a gift!” Robin exclaims, biting back a laugh that has a deeper undertone. Steve’s brows furrow, leaning back against the railing as his eyes stay glued to the crew he calls his closest friends. 

Robin is stifling a laugh, her hands closing around the fabric hiding the large item. “Are you ready for the greatest gift of all, Prince Steve?” Robin’s words were spoken in a teasing manner, the prince simply sighs, nodding slowly. “I fear I don’t have much of a choice.” Steve spoke with a fake sadness. Robin’s smile was mischievous, tightening her grasp on the cotton. With a quick pull the fabric was ripped away, the material snapping into the wind with a ‘whoosh!’ sound. The gift was finally unveiled to be a large statue of none other than Steve Harrington, it was gray and made from stone, depicting the Prince with a proud look adorning his face, a sword in its sheath at his left hip, his left hand against said hip and his right hand reaching across his chest and torso to rest against the hilt of the sword. 

The ship goes silent as everyone stays still, gaze shifting from the statue and the actual person. The only sound is the wind and the crashing of the waves. Suddenly Steve lets out a laugh and the crew follows suit. Hopper placed his hand over his mouth, trying to stifle his laughter. 

Steve was rather nervous to receive his birthday gift, only for the fact that he feels like he has every materialistic item he could have. It wasn’t unusual for the young maidens of neighboring kingdoms to send gifts to Steve, he is a young, handsome bachelor who is a Prince, an heir to a throne. So of course women and even the occasional man will send their finest gifts with a letter in hopes of wooing the male and land themselves a seat in the royal family. 

His face is flushed in embarrassment as he stares at the large statue, his hand going over his mouth. He lets his hand fall back to his side after a moment, opening his mouth and closing it- he did so a few times as he tried to come up with what to say. “We had it commissioned, though we were hoping it could’ve been a wedding present, birthday seemed good enough.” Robin spoke through her laughter, stepping down from the crate. 

“Hey I think it's good there isn’t a girl in the picture yet, I couldn’t imagine getting that as a wedding gift.” Dustin spoke back to Robin, causing some of the crew to let out quiet ‘oohs!’ in response to his remark. Steve simply rolls his eyes at that, turning his gaze to Hopper. The older male motioned him over, leading them to the other side of the ship while everyone else continued on with the celebration.

Unknowingly they stepped closer to the boat you were currently hiding in, pressed against the ship.

As Steve looked at Hopper he felt his eyebrows furrow at the face he was making. Jim was a stoic man, truthfully no one could ever figure out what emotion he seemed to be feeling. But when you were basically raised by the man, you learn to pick up the small differences in his features. Steve let himself lean against the railing, crossed his arms over his chest as he waited for Jim to speak.

“Your parents sent a letter,-” He spoke, his words low. Steve let out a groan, throwing his head back for a moment before righting himself. “Let me guess, no ‘Happy Birthday to our wonderful and only child!’” He guessed, but it wasn’t a guess when he knew he was right. The boy couldn’t remember the last time he spent a birthday with his parents, hell, he couldn’t remember the last time they spent any sort of holiday or celebration together! 

“They want to know when you will be getting married.” Hopper’s words were point blank, quick to the point and void of emotion, Steve turns around to face the railing, pressing his elbows against the wooden frame and digging the palm of his hands into his eyes. “I know you don’t want to hear this kid, but time is ticking and you do need to find someone.” 

“There are plenty of women lining up-” Jim is then interrupted as Steve stands back up. “I don’t want to just settle for a wife, besides none of them want me for me. They want the royalty aspect of me.” Steve’s words are quiet, laced with pain. 

“Every time I have tried to get to know someone it just- it doesn't feel right because I know there is an ulterior motive. They don’t see me for me, they see this Prince, which sure yeah I am. But I wanna be seen as Steve, not Prince Steve.” The young boy ranted, pouring out his feelings to one of the only adults that would ever listen to him. 

Jim wasn’t the best at comforting, especially to Steve. The two were gifted different lifestyles but they met in the middle, two different upbringings. One was born into royalty and the other who somehow managed to become a part of a royal family. 

He placed his hand on the boys shoulder, giving the younger male a small shake. “We just want you to be happy, maybe try looking harder or in other places.” 

Steve simply sighs, his shoulders drooping. “When I find her, I will know. It will hit me like lightning.” His words were more for himself, trying to find comfort in his own words. “But I’m not worried about that right now, I’m still young, Hopper. I can worry about marriage later on in life. Right now I want to spend as much time out on the ocean as I can.” He said with a small smile, looking out at the water. In the distance was a bolt of lightning, the waves started to get a bit rough. 

“Storms moving in fast,” Steve spoke, watching for a moment before he was soon turning to the crew. 

Just moments ago everything was calm, but the waves were harsher now. There were no obvious signs that there was a storm coming, the sky was already dark from the nighttime. Everything seemed to happen fast, rain pouring down from the sky and causing the deck of the ship to be a slip and slide as everyone ran around in preparation for the storm. 

Everyone was bustling around, moving around in a speedy fashion as the storm got worse by the second. Securing things down with rope, reefing the sails and climbing the netting of the masts. In simple words it was chaos as everyone tried to batten down the hatches. The waves became choppy by the second, rocking the boat hard. 

Hopper had ventured to the stern of the ship to the helm, steering the ship as best he could in the weather, his eyes slanted as he tried to shield his vision from the pouring rain and the wind. But he is cut short as a huge wave crashes over the ship, slamming into the male and pushing him to the ground. Steve notices from the other side of the ship, he sees the wheel abandoned and soon he is rushing to the spinning wheel. He takes the steps two at a time, nearly sliding to the ground before he grasps the helm, planting his feet to the ground. The wheel shows much restraint, causing Steve to struggle for a moment. His eyes are trained ahead at the wild open sea, the waves rocking the ship and parting to show a boulder of rocks protruding from the water. It was planted right where the vessel was set to sail. Quickly Steve steers the wheel in the other direction, pushing with all his strength as he gets it to spin the opposite way. 

For whatever reason through this all, you stayed in the lifeboat, you knew through it all it was probably a stupid idea to stay seated. But you were entranced by Steve, it was like he was the siren and you were the pirate, weakened by his enticing voice. You watched it all, watched the chaos and panic ensue as you stayed in the boat watching like a hawk. Your head whipped to the side as you noticed the rock formation, quickly diving out as the side of the life vessel you were in was the side that was destined to hit the boulder.

The ship hit the stone formation head on, the large boat hitting hard causing the front to break and splinter off, throwing objects and men off the vessel. The hanging lamps that were strung from pillar to pillar atop the ship soon came crashing down, the fire inside soon spread across the wooden ship, up the mast and to the sails.

Steve Harrington scrambled up, his eyes wide as he panted, looking out at his ship and seeing it start to engulf into flames. He once again was running down the stairs, “Lifeboats! Abandon ship!” He screamed out, motioning over the railings and into the water. “Abandon ship?” Dustin screamed back, his words laced with panic. Steve simply nodded, “Go!” He called back, watching as the crew jumped overboard into the water, the lifeboats already having been lowered down by one of the crew.

The sails, pillars and masts were crashing down, the fire was an intense blaze, the rain still pelting down heavily. Steve watched as everyone jumped out, his eyes roaming the broken ship and not seeing anyone aboard. But before he could join anyone in the lifeboats, he heard barking. “Dart,” His body whipped around, eyes scanning over the fiery ship before landing on the old english sheepdog. Dart was stuck on the stern by the steering wheel, barking as he hoped to alert someone that he was still there and stuck. 

The Prince searched for a way up there, eyes frantic as he ran- jumping over ablaze wooden planks, moving rope out of his way before finally he was able to reach the dog. “It's okay, I got you,” Steve spoke to Dart, his arms curling under the belly of the dog and hoisting him up. He ran to the side of the ship, “I’m sorry bud,” He said before he had to toss him into the open water. 

In one of the boats nearby was the youngest crew member, Dustin Henderson. Reaching his hand out into the water, “C’mon boy! It's okay!” He called out to the animal, watching as he paddled as fast as he could. But the dog was struggling, the waves were still choppy and rain still strong, a second later though he got faster. Under the water helping him was you, your hands pushing him up ever so to keep his head out of the water, you swam under him and helped the dog over to the boy. Once the animal was being pulled out of the sea you swam under the boat, having decided you were going to leave. But a gut feeling was telling you to stay, the top of your head and eyes peeking up over the water.

“Steve!” Jim screamed out from one of the life vessels, and all eyes were on the boy. Right as he was about to jump overboard, the ship was crashed by a wave. Causing Steve to lose balance and land on his back before being dragged by gravity down the ship before breaking through the wooden railings and into the open water. 

With wide eyes you watched him plummet down, quickly diving underwater and to the wreck, surfacing as you tried to find the boy before finally seeing his lifeless body sinking fast. Once again you were back underwater. 

It was much calmer under the sea, eyes trained on the prince as you swam after him. The world was much darker, everything more muffled. You know you should prefer under the water, but there was something about the outside world that was so much more interesting to you. Maybe you just lacked any social aspect other than your family and you can only talk to the sea life for so long. 

Much like Steve, you felt as if you were destined for more than you were given, but you were tied down by everyone around you telling you what you should or shouldn’t do.

Once he was in reach you let one of your arms curl around his waist, pulling his back against your side as you started your swim back up to the surface. You swore you haven’t swam that fast in a while, fin slicing through the water in hopes of reaching the boy you weren’t even sure was alive in the first place. But finally you got him above the water, shifting his body close to you. He took a deep, shuddery breath the moment he could, but he was still out like a light. The adrenaline wore off and hitting the water so hard knocked him unconscious. 

Holding him tight you let the waves move you both away from the wreckage, your eyes trailing to look at the damage of the ship. Pieces of wood and other objects littered the sea around you, the only light source was from the flames of the ablaze vessel that was once so lively. The moon wasn’t insight, hidden away by the dark clouds they continued to pelt down rain. Even after it helped wreak so much havoc it still showed no mercy in its doings. 

The wreck happened rather far into the ocean, and by the time you managed to swim him to shore, the sun had risen and the storm was gone without a trace. The sky was clear as can be and the sun shining bright.

Getting him onto the sand was a bit of a struggle, gently laying him down onto the warm sand as the waves splashed behind you. A bit of fear encased you as you didn’t see him move, at some point the buttons on his shirt seemed to have become undone. Pressing your hand against his naked chest as you leaned your ear right above his heart. You could hear the faint beat, but he wasn’t doing anything else. Leaning back up you noticed a piece of seaweed stuck to his shirt, grabbing it and flinging it somewhere over your shoulder.

You could feel panic bubbling up, taking hold of his shoulders and shaking him gently- hoping to wake the man. 

Finally he moved, well, he coughed up some water in his lungs, which was more comforting for you than it probably should be. The waves crashed against his feet and the fin of your tail, his body relaxing after his lungs were finally cleared and he could breathe normally. He was still unconscious, you let one of your hands keep you propped up while the other rested against his chest.

Quietly you hum a tune, moving your hand to rest against his cheek. Your humming turned into singing, nonsense words that were almost a plea of wishing you could be human like him and see the world. You softly turned his head towards you, noticing the cut above his eyebrow that had stopped bleeding. Your hand trails back to rest against his chest, your eyes taking in each and every small detail adorning his freckled face. You knew he was beautiful far away, but up close he was just breathtaking. Words couldn’t describe his beauty, his features were sharp but they were formed to give his face such a soft look. 

As you softly sang, his hand started to move as he slowly gained consciousness. His hand moving to gently rest against yours, his eyes moving under his lids. Once again you knew you should’ve left as soon as possible, but there was this pull to him that held on tight. Slowly his eyes parted, dark brown irises meeting you. His vision was blurred, the sun was right beside your head so you were a silhouette that was slowly becoming more clear. A gentle smile pulled at your lips as your singing came to a stop. But soon the sounds of shouting could be heard from above, your head snapping to the side as you see a bundle of people bustling down the rocky mountains.

You knew they were here for the man who had let his eyes fall shut once again, and once more you were back in the water at a safe distance. The top of your head was above water, eyes peeking out as you watched the scene unfold in front of you. 

“Over here!” One of the men said as they ran to the Prince, leaning down and pressing their hand against his chest. “He’s alive!” He called back, another man coming to the other side of Steve, helping hoist him up before they were off. 

With eyes full of wonder you watched it all happen, hoisting yourself up onto some rocks to see better, waves slammed against the rock formation you were leaned against, water flying and splashing around you as you felt a smile pull at your face. You never made promises with yourself, if things were meant to happen they would, but you had this feeling that in this moment, something was starting now and you would fight for it.

#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington

[thefireintheshadow]

“Always gotta show up where I am, huh?” Joel teased, eyes glittering with amusement. “So obsessed with me.”

Etho rolled his eyes, but there was a smile in his voice. “I was invited. You’re the one that followed me here.”

“I was invited too-”

“You were both invited, jeez,” Gem huffed as she emerged from her fishing hut. “Gosh, Scar was right, you two need to get a room.”

Etho blushed, cheeks pinking over the top of his mask, and it was so cute that she didn’t feel even a little bad about her jab.

“Come down to my storage room,” she said, heading down the stairs to her underwater storage area. She had just finished decorating, and she wanted to show it off – plus privacy was a perk.

“This is a nice room,” Joel said as he trailed in behind Etho. “You giving us a room?”

Etho groaned under his breath, rubbing his forehead and leaning against the glass separating them from the water.

Gem pretended to think it over for a moment. “I mean, if you guys want to fuck it out in here… as long as you don’t mind me watching.” She hopped up on a chest she’d forgotten, leaning back on her hands and swinging her legs. She allowed herself the guilty pleasure of enjoying Etho’s deepening blush. Even the tips of his ears turned red.

But Joel was blushing too, and there was something so charming about Joel when he was flustered. He talked a big game but underneath he was a softie. Plus Gem was very good friends with his wife – and knew just how hard the Etho obsession ran.

Not like Gem could fault him for it. She was better at being cool about it, but she was an Ethogirl, through and through.

“So, what d’you need, Gem?” Joel finally broke the silence, clearing his throat. “You didn’t bring us here to kill us, right?”

“No, no, I’m not red, yet,” she said, and now it was her turn to be nervous. “I, um... When you guys finished Double Life, Pearl told me a lot.”

Both men groaned.

“Blummin’ heck,” Joel muttered, and plonked himself down on the bottom stairs.

“In visceral detail, “Gem continued. “What the Boat Boys were like.”

“Is this some kind of intervention?” Etho asked, eyeing Joel accusingly.

“No,” Gem replied, raising her palms. “Though my offer still stands. No, I...” She took a deep breath and let out a shaky laugh. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it. You guys were just rotting my brain.”

Joel cocked a brow, his goofy grin returning, that feigned bravado. “Did you bring us here because you’re obsessed with us?”

Gem looked at the ceiling. “God,” she murmured. “Why’d it have to be Joel?”

“You tell me, princess,” he said with a wink, and Etho groaned again but Gem shivered at the nickname. She had to just spit it out.

“I have had a very particular fantasy in my head for a long time,” she began. “I thought about talking to you during Secret Life but everything was so chaotic and the tasks and stuff… but now we’re in a unique situation with Demise and...”

Etho was staring at her. This expression was no longer flustered. He looked intrigued. That was a good sign. Joel didn’t fill the silence with any snarking, which was a first.

“I suppose I have a request... if you’re interested, of course.”

[read on ao3]

#mind the tags #mind the triggers #lots of cw #gemtho #hermitshipping #hermitfic #boat boys #trafficshipping