#always been curious about VAST SILVER

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

The Green Prince | Bluebeard!Aemond x Wife!Reader

-Based on the Fairytale 'Bluebeard'- Halloween Special!

Summary: Six wives before her mysteriously disappeared, and someone in Dragonstone calls for her once her new husband entrusts her with his master key | Word Count: 8k~ | Warnings below the cut~

Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: dub-con, arranged marriage, victorian england setting, era-typical sexism, murder, uxoricide, blood, toxic behaviour, apparitions/ghosts, manipulation, threats of violence

She's heard only tales of Aemond Targaryen.

The Green Prince of Dragonstone. A wealthy gentleman who often stayed within the confines of his estate.

When she abandoned the frills and wide smiles of girlhood, thrust into the pomp and practice of womanhood, that is when the stories began.

She had never seen him. And she began to believe, that the people around her who spoke of him never had either.

They were of a decent background, her and her family. Not overwhelmingly rich. But well-off is what her father always said.

Enough to employ a small army of servants.

Enough to never have to worry about the troubles of daily life that so often would hinder an everyday individual.

She doubted Aemond Targaryen ever had to worry about that either.

One fact that simply could not be frayed, was that he was royalty.

Only in the sense that he was utterly untouchable.

He had this elegance about him, they would say, a sort of curious exoticisim from the way his long, silver hair would drift down his back, to the way his inhuman purple eyes would glimmer, half lidded and looking straight ahead, as if he were piercing a knife through the individual with his gaze alone.

Though they were technically neighbours, she saw very little life pass through the iron gates of Dragonstone. His estate so vast, that by foot, she would have to commit a whole hour to simply brush by the border of what she deemed was a forbidden land.

There seemed an aura of darkness over it, that she could not quite comprehend. But one that intrigued her all the same.

Last year, at the same time as now, she had been considered a child. No better for company than being banished upstairs to dwindle about her books and writings, out of the way of adults and their serious business affairs.

What had really changed in 12 months, that they now considered her a woman?

She felt age had little to do with it.

She felt that she had been grown in her mind for some time, and had actually changed very little from the age of three and ten.

But now, at the tender age of nine and ten, there was still a girlish nature about her face. A brightness to her eyes, and a plumpness about her cheeks. One that her mother had once commented that men would find appealing in a wife.

And so here she was.

Dressed in her finery, a glass of wine in a crystal glass delicately placed in one hand, she stood beside her eldest brother, who had torn himself rather blatantly from a woman he himself was courting in favour of supporting his sweet, youngest sister.

"Do not, for the love of our mother, allow yourself to be approached by Mr Gardner. He has had five servants in as many months. I am sure you can understand why", her brother mused with a contented chuckle.

She did not know why. Nobody had told her plainly.

Sometimes she wished people would just be honest with her. And not assumed she knew the inner workings of people's minds, after years of being shut away upstairs by her parents and brother alike.

The foyer and adjoining rooms alike were filled with people, all pretending to make pleasantries with each other. And as the night dragged on, several well known bachelor's having tried their hand at impressing her, she found her glass of wine was not as endless as she thought.

When a servant had spotted her, appearing at her side to refill her glass, she had turned her body sideways and locked eyes, finally, with him.

The one people affectionately named, The Green Prince.

Like most of the men tonight, he was dressed in a suit with a long overcoat that covered his dark green waistcoat. So dark were the colours of his outfit, that they almost appeared black, like the rest of it.

His hair was loose, with a few strands falling to the front over his shoulders, and as her eyes trailed up to his pale collar, where a tie was loosely wrapped about his neck, she saw that when she met his gaze, he was already looking at her.

He held his glass in a manner most unbecoming. Hanging at his side, his long fingers grasping the edges so delicately, she was sure for a moment it was floating in his hold.

His finger, she noticed, tapped idly at the side of the room, as if deep in thought as he looked upon her.

She saw his gaze drop to her outfit, one that her mother had chosen for her. A red, almost burnt tea coloured dress, with very little flounce and fancy to it. The collar hung delicately at her shoulders, the bodice tight and the only detail of any colour was in the stitching of her skirt, which he noted was a shimmering gold.

When he lifted his eyes, he took a sip from his glass, still almost filled to the top, his burning lilac gaze hovering over the brim. She sucked in a breath, her own eyes flitting over his face. And to the patch that covered the left eye.

She didn't know why her chest felt tight, and why she hoped suddenly for the appearance of her brother. Or her father perhaps. He was staring at her so unabashedly, that for an unmarried woman such as herself, she would be looked upon with immense judgement if she were found to be staring back at him in the same manner.

Knowing his gaze was burning at the back of her head, perhaps tracing the intricate pattern of braids her hair had been styled in, she decided to ignore him, until he had the decency to approach and introduce himself to her properly.

As any good gentleman would.

She meandered through the menagerie of figures, careful to keep her wine close to her so that she wouldn't repeat the same embarrassment as last year when she spilled the entire glass down Mr Bray, whose wife near lost her voice with incessant shouting.

Her father, ever cheerful, as rich men so often are, materialised at her side, grasping her elbow and tugged his daughter close to him. His breath smelled like red wine as he whispered to her.

"It appears you have captured the special attention of Mr Targaryen, daughter"

Her father chuckled when her wide, terrified and yet curious eyes met his.

How could she have captured his attention, when she had done nothing at all? She thought.

She did not yet know, the charms that the appearance of a female body could offer. And how it could transform a respectable man from a pillar of society, to a hungry, lustful beast at a moment's notice.

"I shall introduce you to him" her father insisted, leading her along at his side, despite her quiet protests.

"But father-"

"Hush now. Remember your manners".

His tone of voice was enough.

She had not experienced it as a mere female. But she had seen first hand what her father did to her brother when he disobeyed. Finding a sort of punishment worthy at the end of his cane as it cracked against her brother's palm.

Her brother still wore gloves often. That was his shield.

She had yet to find her own.

Perhaps hers was in her mind, she thought. That she might be able to protect herself with her ideas and opinions, twisting the minds of men, as her elder sister had said once, to suit the needs of the women they owned.

She often had to remind herself, she was property. And could easily be bought and sold, and kicked to the roadside if she had done something to mar her family name.

She was thrust into a sort of social assassination once again once stood before the famed Mr Targaryen, who nodded his head in greeting but said nothing.

"My Targaryen. What an honour it is to have you here. Please might introduce my daughter"

He bent somewhat at the hip, his hand moving to grasp hers, the skin soft and feminine.

"The pleasure is all mine, Miss"

His voice was like the purr of a cat. And though terrifyingly intriguing, she couldn't find it in herself to look away.

"And to you, Sir. Many thanks for the invitation" Aemond turned towards her father, giving another barely existent nod of his head, his expression flat and almost bored.

"It is no problem at all, Mr Targaryen. Please accept my condolences on the passing of your wife"

Late wife?

She felt rude to ask, so said nothing.

Aemond seemed to understand her curiosity, and gave a light smirk in her direction, though she was on his blind side.

"Thank you, Sir. It was a great tragedy indeed"

"Indeed" her father repeated, leaning forward as if to emphasise the size of his empathy for him, "I understand she was quite distressed for some time, was she not?"

She almost passed her father a warning glance. Thinking it rather rude for him to say such things about his late wife. Whether she may have been mad or not.

But Aemond merely nodded.

"Indeed. I am afraid, however, it was an inevitable accident"

Accident.

She of course, remembered hearing the gossip, and hearing her father read the newspaper every morning. An update about the mad Alys Rivers at the top of the page every time.

Alys Rivers, the Lady of Dragonstone, found dead in God's Eye Lake. A wound to the neck spells suicide.

A wound to the neck was a kind description.

Her pale skin was said to be slashed open on one side, everything visible within. And once the water had got to her, she was swollen, pale and blue, completely drained of blood. Almost entirely unrecognisable.

It was just as well she had no family. They would not have wished to see how she met her end.

The article found it necessary to articulate, that her body had been returned to her husband.

Across the room, another gentleman called for her father, and she felt the hot whips of panic at the back of her neck at the thought of being left alone with Aemond.

"Do excuse me" her father said quickly, disappearing into the sea of black and grey.

She herself turned back to Aemond, not wanting to be rude, and tapped her fingernails on the crystal glass nervously.

"I am very sorry to hear about your wife"

Aemond hummed, one of his hands behind his back like he had a secret.

"Thank you, Miss"

There was a long period of silence between them. And for a while, she wondered if she should be the one to break it.

Aemond laughed lowly, leaning down to her face as he caught something interesting in his sights.

"See your brother?" He murmured. And her face turned as well, not realising at first how close their faces were, but she could not very well pull away without offending him.

All the same, he smelled of sandalwood.

Her eyes followed his, to her brother on the other side of the room, where he was thoroughly embarrassing himself by laughing too widely with the woman he had been courting for several months.

"He is awfully close to that woman, is he not?"

She swallowed, raising her chin to appear more confident as she spoke, "She is to be his intended. It is only natural they speak freely with one another" she reasoned.

Aemond did not move away, his shoulder brushing against her side. It made her shudder.

"He is certainly doing something freely" Aemond hummed deep in his chest, a tone which sent a dull ache through her body.

Her brother leaned in close to the woman. And she watched her blush and throw her head back with a demure laugh, her brother leaning close to run his nose along her neck, grinning against her skin.

It felt forbidden to watch them be so close.

And yet he was so brazen about it.

"She seems to be enjoying herself, at least"

She couldn't find it in herself to reply.

For the woman did appear as if she was enjoying herself. And briefly, stood beside Aemond, his breath softly batting against her neck, she wondered herself, how it would feel if he did the same to her.

She wondered if he was thinking the same thing as her. Sneaking into her mind like a whisper, as if he were being a locked door, and was peering through the keyhole to uncover her darkest thoughts and desires.

Her brother leaned towards his intended, planting a kiss to the column of her neck. And she felt herself parting her lips as the other woman had, not only at the shameless behaviour of her brother, so consumed in wine that he felt no need to appear reasonable in front of other people, but also because she felt Aemond’s slender fingers at her forearm.

It was not at all like the way her father had pulled her to him, in ownership.

Aemond tugged her towards him in a sort of longing, his nose pressing into the plaits of her hair.

“I am going to ask your father for your hand” he whispered, “and he will say yes. And you shall be mine”.

She listened with her fingers wrapped around the wooden pillars of the staircase as her brother shouted obscenity after obscenity at her father. Every now and then her mother would insert her little, sweet voice that was inevitably crushed by the low boom of the two males in the room.

With her gaze planted firmly in her lap, tracing the patterns of the lace of her nightgown as she listened, she thought with a sort of sadness that the offer of marriage should be a joyous and happy occasion. And now in her household, the prospect of her being tied to the Green Prince himself was so offensive to her brother, that he felt the need to fight on her behalf.

Perhaps knowing his sweet sister had no choice in the matter.

“He is barely half a decade older than her and has had six wives in as many years, father!” he boomed, and she could tell by the way his voice bounced off the furniture that he was pacing and throwing his arms around.

“To give her away to that brute. It is unthinkable!”

“Be quiet!” her father roared back, “the wedding will go ahead as planned. We will not get a better offer than this!”

While she was happy, that her brother was trying to stick up for her, it was no use. He nor her had a choice in the matter.

Her father had said it himself.

We will not get a better offer.

Not she.

She was property. Something to be sold and given in exchange for goods or reputation. What she wanted, was of no consequence.

And she couldn’t help but think of her mother, several decades younger than her father, and how she must have felt at her tender age when confronted with the prospect of marrying a man much older than she.

In a way, she felt connected to her mother in that way. But also in a way that she resented her, for dressing her up, plaiting her hair and pushing her out into the rich man’s world, ripe and ready for the taking.

Passing her the torch of a woman’s anguish.

The wedding felt clinical. More akin to a funeral than a union of two people. 

Her brother stares dagger into the back of her intended for the entire ceremony. All while her mother cried softly into her handkerchief and her father sat, stoic and silent, his chubby fingers caressing the sculpted ornament on the top of his cane.

She remembered his hands as they were bought together and the officiator had placed a sort of sacred cloth over them as he muttered his prayers. Binding them lawfully and before the eyes of God, for their whole lives.

His hands were large, his palms completely dwarfing hers and his long fingers wrapping around hers like tight vines. And at that moment, she had never felt so small in her life.

And noticed that his side of the wedding chapel, where his family members were supposed to sit and witness their union, was completely empty.

Six wives in as many years.

That is what her brother had said.

She knew Aemond had been married multiple times prior to her, but was her brother merely exaggerating?

In contrast to his hands, where the blood swam warmly through his limbs, his lips where the officiant asked them to seal their union with a kiss, were cold, and not forthcoming. As if he had not asked her father for her hand in marriage, but that this entire affair was so useless and merely for looks, that he’d rather be somewhere else.

That said. She could not escape the intensity of his gaze.

He seemed to focus solely on her, much to her discomfort, to the point where it seemed like he was not listening to a single prayer or hymn that was uttered in the chapel all afternoon. And though her eyes were elsewhere, to try and place the feeling that bubbled in her chest somewhere else, she often found his lilac eye drifting to the details of her necklace, to face, and pausing where she wet her lips nervously.

If he hadn’t possessed such a domineering, strong presence, she thought he would be devilishly handsome.

Perhaps a fact he already knew.

It was unlike her family to have celebrations, so they didn’t.

She gave each of the servants, some who she knew for most of her life a final embrace, thanking them for their hospitality and care where she did not receive it from her parents. And as her luggage was packed meaningfully in the back of Mr Targaryen’s carriage, with two large horses at the front, she gave her brother a tight embrace as well. Inhaling and savouring the musty smell of tobacco on his coat.

He looked saddened, but for the sake of appearances, forced a smile onto his face.

“Good luck, dear sister. Remember you may write to me, even though you are a married woman” he smiled, teasing her softly with a nudge to her shoulder.

She gave a softer hug to her mother, who usually was not keen to shower her with affection. But she supposed, she was the youngest daughter, so it was only natural.

Her father, after having busied himself in an idle chattering session with Aemond, merely tipped his hat, and did not shed one bit of emotion as she climbed into the carriage before her husband. Aemond's hand helped her up the step, watching as she disappeared inside.

The smell of his sandalwood perfumes on his coat was stronger as he sat beside her on the cushion, instructing the handsome, olive-skinned driver to move forward and away from her home.

She only waved to her brother. And watched as he had wet eyes, stepping forward a few paces like he was about to break into a run after her.

The carriage was much nicer than anything she'd seen in her young life, and though they were for all intents and purposes, considered neighbours, it was still a half hour ride to his estate.

Dragonstone.

Her skin prickled at the mere thought of it.

She'd never seen it before. Nor had any of her family.

All she knew was that it was often clouded in fog, that when you stood at the front gates you could barely see the arching towards and dark brick in the distance anyway.

All she had heard was what people said.

That it was a frightful, maze of a place. With winding corridors and crooked doorways, and barely any servants.

He was a rich man, why not employ more?

He did not say a word the entire way home. He only sat, cross legged, and fiddle with his fingers like he was nervous. Turning them over in micro-movements.

Don't speak unless spoken to.

As Dragonstone came into view once they crossed the boundary of the iron gates, she felt her breath taken away.

And it was only when Aemond assisted her with a hand as she stepped down from the carriage that she could really appreciate the sheer size of his estate.

It was so big it was beyond comprehension.

She briefly wondered if she would get lost in such a place.

"Cole will bring your things to our room"

Her heart started to flutter, and pitter patter all at the same time.

Our room.

She had almost forgotten her one wifely duty she was to fulfil this evening.

To appease him.

The thought made a sort of tightness in her belly, though she was unsure why. Of course, her elder sister had divulged her own horror story of her wedding night. Though her sister was twenty and she herself only five and ten at the time, the nitty gritty was of great curiosity to her.

"For several hours the poor thing just cried and it rather spoiled the mood. Turned out that he had…pleased himself the morning of the wedding so as not to become too excited when the evening rolled around.

Oh well, no matter. Instead, when he had a rather excited visitor the next morning he crawled atop me and breathed heavily into my neck while he tried to get it inside me. 'Twas over in an instant dear sister and I did not feel a thing".

Though the anecdote was funny, although awkward seeing as she sat next to her brother-in-law the next morning and tried not to giggle, right now, it did little to quell the gnawing inside her.

Aemond did not seem as quiet and unsure of himself as her brother-in-law was. She doubted a man of his standing would have any issue fulfilling his role as a husband.

As he had done, six times before.

Which triggered yet another question.

Why no children? Surely all six of his previous wives could not have been barren?

Did they commit suicide? Ashamed of themselves for failing to fulfil this task? Were they all mere accidents? Or did someone break in at night to steal his plethora of fine jewels and artefacts and run into one of his unfortunate wives along the way?

It seemed entirely impossible.

She watched Aemond walk confidently to the front doors, where a couple of servants stood to greet the new Lady of Dragonstone. His coat fluttered around his thighs as he turned, the ends of his silver hair hung like they were floating.

"Wife. May I introduce you to the staff. Anything you so wish, please do not hesitate to ask them"

The two servants stood, hands clasped, looking entirely scared stiff. One was a middle aged man with an apron dirtied at the edges, and the other a maid, barely five and twenty, who offered her a polite curtsy.

She simply smiled at them, "a pleasure".

They said nothing.

There was something melancholic. Ancient. And crushing about Dragonstone.

She felt the weight on her shoulders the moment she passed those gates. Did they feel it too?

Did Aemond?

This was the only moment he seemed to smile, as miniscule as it was with a darkened gaze, was when he turned to look at his new wife and nodded.

"If you will forgive me, I have some business to attend to. I will see you tonight for supper"

His expression never wavered, even as he bent at the middle to press his lips to her hand, above the ring he had placed on her finger not a few hours before.

The servants quickly scuttled out of her sight and so she thought to amuse herself by exploring her new home. Out of habit, she started upstairs, going straight to her bedroom to inspect.

There was a large four poster bed made of what appeared to be walnut in the middle of the room, with various ornaments strewn about, but very little to suggest that he actually relaxed in here.

There were no mementos, keepsakes, and she thought briefly she couldn't get a grasp on his personality this way either.

She blushed and felt that tightness again at the thought of sharing a bed with him, of what they might have to do.

The rest of the house was indicative of the first room she ventured to. Lacking a certain personality she was sure existed in her new husband but one he refused to show.

The estate was cold and empty, with flagstone floors stretching along the long dark hallways.

There were so many doors it was difficult to know what on earth could be behind all of them. She'd so far discovered the Library, the Dining Room and even happened upon the scullery rather by accident.

And then, one room…

It had a oxblood red door, worn around the edges and the colour faded somewhat. She noted the scuff marks around the handle and the hinges, as well as the stone beneath the door where overtime, footsteps had worn it down.

So she was doubly surprised to find the door locked.

Curious.

Her skin prickled, and she was sure for a moment that she saw her own misty breath. Like that feeling that someone is watching you but you are too afraid to move an inch. The tips of her fingers suddenly felt numb.

She felt it on her neck, an iciness.

But when she turned, her breath stuck in her chest from panic, she could only see nothing but the empty corridor.

And all was silent.

There was a heaviness in her chest which seemed to pass through her like trying to walk through honey, trying to pull your feet up just an inch to step forward.

And as quickly as that feeling came, it was gone and she turned back in panic once she heard soft, careful footsteps behind the oxblood door.

She clenched and unclenched her fists in fear, trying to reason with herself.

Undeniable footsteps, ones that had started at the threshold and we're now walking slowly away from her.

The blood rushed warmly back into her fingertips, and she rubbed them painfully against her navy dress, trying to will a feeling back into them.

Footsteps…

She only heard her own as she hurried down the corridor again, her shoes clocking against the flagstone.

So desperate to get away from that heavy, morbid feeling that she nearly hurtled right into the young maid.

"My Lady!"

"I do apologise" she uttered immediately, her chest pushing against her bodice with her hurried breath, "I was not looking where I was going".

The maid curtsied, as if she'd forgotten to and straightened, "Supper is to be served, my Lady. May I-"

"What is that room? Down the hall?" She asked.

The maid raised her eyebrows, "Which one, my Lady?"

She turned her head down the hallway once again to point to the one she meant, and her words died on her lips.

The door moved.

It was unmistakable.

The shadow where the door was leant ajar quickly disappeared, and the frame was filled once more by the large wooden slat against it.

There was no click of a lock to be heard.

She was so afraid she lost herself for a moment. Going all pale. So much so the maid had to prompt her.

"My Lady?"

She shook her head, looking back to see if the door would move again, and drift open as it had before.

But it never did.

And the thought that as she was running away before, the door was slowly inching open, scared her beyond belief.

"It's nothing, I apologise" she said quickly, "Supper, thank you".

There was nothing of note for the rest of the evening.

Supper was quiet. And the table was so long with husband and wife sat at either end, that they may as well have been in separate rooms while they ate.

It was nice enough food she was grateful for that. A selection of soups and meats, and breads to fill her belly between courses.

He did not speak.

He barely moved any other muscle than his arm to fork the meat into his mouth. She watched him every now and then, over the barely dancing flame of the candelabra, otherwise the room would be completely dark.

So she drank her wine, and stayed silent. Waiting to be spoken to.

The only thing he said was right at the end.

"Shall we retire for bed, wife?"

And she could not very well say no.

She made brief eye contact with the maid as she followed her husband to the grand staircase, each step feeling heavier and more nerve-wracking than the last.

Her husband was tall, broad and she had no doubt be enjoyed the domineering aura he gave off. Judging by the dark colours of his waistcoat and trousers, as well as the leather eyepatch over one eye, he enjoyed inhabiting darkness.

She thought with some amusement that the only bright things about him were his hair and eyes.

Things he could not change.

He was certainly a marvel of a man. And truthfully, she should count herself lucky that he is at least somewhat close to her in age.

Aemond closed the door softly once they were both inside. The curtains were now drawn, and the room was filled with an amber glow from the candles the maid had lit for them.

She needn't ask him for help, for her new husband immediately stood behind her, and began to unlace her dress as if they had been married an age.

His movements were so sure. And she felt with jealousy of some kind that he had done this with six other women before her.

No wonder he was practiced.

There was no room for romance when to him, it was all just a matter of duty.

She stood only in her chemise, having pulled her hair free of her braids, feeling his gaze the entire time.

"Are you intent on remaining silent, wife?" He asked, and she heard him pull off his waistcoat with every pop of his buttons.

"Or might you become more vocal in the marriage bed?"

She felt her cheeks flush and thickness in her throat. Inadvertently pressing her legs together where a sort of excitement was blooming.

"I could not say…" she answered.

And chuckled lowly, pressing his front to her back, dragging his nose up the side of her neck, just as she had seen before.

She felt something hard press against her backside, his hips pushing it against her and moving softly, creating just a tiny bit of friction.

"Tell me" he muttered, his lips tickling her ear, "tell me what a good wife does"

She was suddenly nervous, thinking about what other people had told her.

And it was increasingly difficult to think, with his large hands pulling her chemise off her body.

"A good wife…is loyal to her husband" she recited, her breath coming in short pants, "she is…loving"

He blew air from his nose, like he was amused.

"..and she is obedient"

"That's it"

Aemond peeled the chemise off her, letting it drift to the floor.

"A good wife makes herself available to her husband"

She gasped and he revelled in it, as he pushed her newly naked body onto the bed, her body sinking into the mattress and watching as her husband bared himself one button at a time.

"Of course. There a many other wifely duties" he grinned.

His fingers moved to his trousers.

"But for now, I only care about this one".

Being touched all over was strange. There was a dull ache in her core when her husband touched certain areas, a feeling that she didn't recognise.

Her confused and somewhat distressed face at the whole ordeal was endearing to him.

Her young, plump face looked up at him with gleaming eyes and shame arched in her eyebrows.

It hurt. Not as greatly as she thought. But it still did.

"Close your eyes. It will be over soon"

She did as he said, turning her face away. But it was not over soon.

His member throbbed inside her, and she thought she'd never felt more full in her life. Since closing her eyes, she could not see the way his hair began to tangle around him, as his hips chased hers and came against hers with a soft smack.

The pain gave way to another feeling still.

That same ache she felt when he'd touched her.

Aemond smirked when he saw the confused, ashamed expression on her face. At the way she pressed her lips together.

"I think you are enjoying this" he murmured lowly, pushing harder into her like he was intent in piercing her stomach, "if I did not know any better, you would almost be moaning".

She didn't want it to feel good.

Or did she.

It felt wrong.

And yet she couldn't deny when he raised her thighs, his fingers wrapped into her flesh, it did feel good.

"Look at me" he whispered, never stopping, "Look at your husband, who is giving you pleasure"

Some excitement sparked inside him, when she didn't do as he asked, her warm embarrassed face pressed into the sheets as much as she could. Her eyes closed.

He laughed when she refused.

"Yes - you feel it, do you not? No need to act all coy. I can feel your body's response"

Shame crept into her body, her limbs going all tight just as he'd said. Feeling herself hit that irreplaceable point, she simply whimpered and felt his length throb once more before he spilled inside of her, releasing all he had to give.

She thought with lewdness, that his spend was warm inside her.

Aemond seemed to take great pleasure in making his wife shrink into herself with embarrassment and shame every time they coupled. He loved that doe eyed look she gave him, as if he did not have his cock buried between her legs every night he could since the wedding.

He would have her any way. Fully clothed if the moment presented itself.

There was something erotic about taking something that looked so innocent and filling her with his spend. How she would act all coy, with it dripping down her thighs.

He delighted in the fact that he had managed to kidnap this sweet young thing, and use her for himself and his pleasure any moment he was able. And the month that passed since the wedding, he could not think of a time that was sweeter.

So it was with great irritation that he was called to King's Landing. Some business with his brother that apparently couldn't wait.

He did not want to leave her.

He spoke firmly, stood before the oxblood door in his travel wear.

"While I am away, you must not enter this room. Do you understand?"

When she nodded without asking why, he smiled in pride and placed the master key in her small palm. Entrusting that she would do as she had promised in his absence.

He thought he'd reward her when he returned, by fucking her in the comfort of their bed sheets, until she was pink in the faxe and begging him to stop. Just as he liked her to be.

As soon as her husband left, she felt even more that she was being watched. All the little hairs on the back of her neck pointed upwards.

The maid kept clear of her, which was nothing unusual. But it was almost as if she was escaping rooms before she herself knew why. As if she knew what invaded the invisible space within them as soon as her back was turned.

Did she hear the voices too? See the dark figures and closing doors?

Anytime she passed the long dark hallway to the oxblood door, she felt her curiosity grow tenfold. But also a sense of dread, heavy in her gut, tugging her back to this wretched place.

What could be behind the door, that her husband wished not for her to see?

In the Library, the fire crackled comfortably as she turned the faded pages of her book. The maid busied herself collecting the dirtied saucers and teacups beside her, humming to herself gently.

The air suddenly went cold around her neck, and a breeze passed, evident by the dangling of her earrings. It was not only her imagination.

"A golden key. Oxblood door. Give the six souls rest, sweet child"

She looked up at the maid, "I am sorry, did you say something?"

The maid straightened and shook her head quickly, eyebrows arched in confusion, "No, my Lady"

Why did the maid always flee like that? Like someone was chasing her? With their claws at her back like an animal in the forest?

The key was ornate, with winding patterns and several notches at the top. And when she held it in her small palm, it felt hot to the touch like an iron rod.

Aemond would punish her.

How? She did not know.

She slotted the key into the door, without the energy to turn it. And her limbs felt heavy, and her knuckles cold, like someone was pushing on it. Forcing her will.

"That's right. Insert the key into the keyhole, and turn…"

A voice echoed off the stone.

A low, sweet, mature voice.

Click.

The oxblood door gave way to light, torches lit at every corner, illuminating the oxblood colour of the floor before her.

A step down.

The floor rippled like liquid.

"Our souls…"

Her shoe was slick with something oily that clung to the suede. Irreparably staining them.

Her skin prickled. Vomit bubbled at the back of her throat.

Six torch-lit figures reflected in the blood on the flagstone floor.

Hung, wrists bound over their head. White skulls in various stages of deterioration, with strings of what was once luscious hair drifting past their bony shoulders.

She saw with dread, they were still wearing dresses that hung off their ivory skeletons.

She was sure she collapsed with grief, a scream echoing around her that did not feel like her own. The only sound she registered was the clanging of the key as she dropped it in shock, blood of Aemond's ex-wives enveloping the brass.

Her throat felt sore.

She watched their empty eye sockets. The dust over their bound hands and their feet as they dangled inches off the floor.

Breath hot in her lungs like she was clinging to life as she knew it, she scrambled for the key and pulled the door shut behind her with a mighty boom.

Darkness crawled up her skin, now that she knew what was behind it.

Was this her fate?

If she displeased him, would she be their successor?

She was sat, with head in hand, in a state of complete distress with sweat on her brow and neck as Aemond returned.

She had paced the room for hours she felt, wringing her hands, as if to find what she might say to him on his arrival. He'd see it on her face.

He would know she had seen the corpses of his precious wives on her soft, innocent features. Scarred forever by death.

His tall, broad form filled the doorframe. And he dropped his coat onto the bed with a tired huff, but said nothing.

She almost wished he would say something. To spare her this horrible anticipation.

But she watched as he took two careful steps in. His one eye flitting over to the key he'd left her on the bureau.

The blood had not lifted from the brass. She could not wash it. No matter how much time she committed to it, it would not become clean.

Her husband looked back at her like she was something to eat, his eye half open with only half his iris visible.

She sobbed and cried when he advanced and held her to the wall by her neck with ease, slamming her small body against it.

"You thought you would get away without punishment, hm?"

She sobbed like a child, her tears wetting her cheeks and neck, to his fingers. Her own tried to pry his away, feeling that he was hurting her effortlessly with his grip around her throat.

"Please…husband…"

He could have laughed.

"Now is no time for begging. Tell me, how should I punish you, wife?, he grinned widely, his tone low and condescending as he spoke to the small woman before him.

"Please…you may do as you like with me - just first, let me pray-" she begged with a hoarse, tired voice. Never feeling that she could be scared of him in this way.

He pulled his head away, looking down at her past his nose, his lips tight.

She felt his grip loosen, but the places where his fingers had been were sore and red.

"I shall do as I please. But since you asked so nicely to pray. I shall let you"

She felt herself breathing like she was swallowing fire a she stepped out the door, allowing her privacy to pray before he inevitably drove a dagger through her, or something of the like.

She rushed to the master key and locked the door with a quick slam and click, locking her husband out and flinching when his palms pushed with urgency on the other side. Rapping on the wood like an animal who couldn't see their prey.

She had no intention of praying.

"Open this door! Now!"

Her eyes scanned the room anxiously and with urgency. She felt her fingers shaking as he pushed the window open, looking down at the great height she would have to jump to escape him.

A sure death.

She clambered over the bureau, her knees knocking painfully on the wood as she advanced in a panicked state towards the ledge.

Her brother.

If she could just escape to him.

He would save her.

A clang of metal rattled against the floor as her husband, as strong as she was, sent the door flinging off the hinges. His large arms wrapped around her waist as she writhed, fearing her life. Expecting a blade to her neck. Or perhaps to be dragged to the oxblood door, to never return.

"Husband - please - have mercy-"

"It is too late for 'please'. It is time for you to feel the consequence of your actions"

She struggled so much, he tackled her to the floor, holding both her forearms behind her back in one hand, pushing her front to the cold stone floor, her warm cheek moulding to the pattern of it.

"I beg you - have mercy and kill me quickly-"

Her tears wet her face entirely, feeling his body over her back, pressing his hips into her backside, letting her feel his wrath.

"Mercy?" He chuckled darkly, "why would I show the likes of you mercy?"

"You who I have treated with care and respect. You who has disobeyed me"

"My Lady shall learn this lesson now"

His voice was dark and low, and it scared her more than the whisperings of the paranormal and the sight of what was behind the oxblood door.

She panicked with a warm face as he rucked up her skirts to her waist, flinching when she felt two of his thick fingers swipe across her hot centre while he continued to hold her down.

"I do not often take pleasure in teaching my wife a lesson. But, for you, I shall make an exception"

She pressed her lips together, not wanting to anger him with her whimpers and whines as she felt him slide his trousers down and rub his hot, throbbing member, ready and waiting for her, against her cunt, collecting her wetness on his length for ease of entry.

He sighed longingly, his breath tickling her neck, his eyelashes fluttering against her jaw.

She choked on her breath as he slid into her, his fingers holding her hips desperately to widen her legs to accommodate him deeper inside her.

"None of them were worthy - fucking none of them -" he breathed, his breath hitching with each soft smack of his hips against her, stretching her walls to the shape and size of him and groaning at the way her hot insides parted.

"Do you wish me to give you a child, hm? None of them - fuck - none of them could give me what you do-"

She whimpered, feeling his length fill her repeatedly and bully the end of her, each blow against that rough spot inside increasingly making her shame and despair at his use of her body ebb away into a forbidden and unknown feeling.

"If you do not behave, you will not be allowed that pleasure" he muttered, his breath coming in short bursts, his thrusts as well becoming sloppy and unconfident.

Her gut warmed with his length piercing her insides. And she felt as though she was missing something he was telling her in his own way. Eyebrows arched in confusion.

Even now, while he fucked her on the floor, she felt afraid for her life.

"Oh, little one, I am almost disappointed that it took so long for you to realise that I do not intend to kill you.”

Her wet eyes cracked open to turn her head in discomfort to him. Her cheek rubbing against the stone floor as he pulled her hips up to fuck her deeper.

"No. You shall give me children. Many of them if you wish to please me"

She tightened around him completely out of instinct, and Aemond groaned loudly above her, pushing his chest so hard against her back she felt she might break.

And her hands clenched into fists, absentmindedly pushing her hips back to him to chase the remnants of that sweet rapture she was sometimes awarded when coupling with him.

A sweet escape from this prison.

He laughed, when he realised that she was quite resigned to her fate.

That she, compared to his other wives, was finally worthy of giving him children. Of satiating his desire to dominate a woman so easily. How he enjoyed watching the look of shame and pleasure on her face, as she battled with herself to submit to him or not.

He slammed with a wet squelch back into her again, filling her with his warmth with a long, shuddered groan. His grip so hard around her forearm, she was sure blood did not reach her hands.

He continued to move shallowly into her, pushing his spend as deep inside her as it would go. As if, whether she wanted to or not, he would fuck his child into her and watch her grow fat and round.

And then, once she had one, would fuck yet another into her.

Her breath came fast and hot from her swollen lips as she trembled around him, unknowingly prolonging his pleasure inside her.

His lips brushed against her ear.

"No other words before I begin?"

It was difficult with her head pushed against the floor, but she nodded softly in confirmation. Relief flooding her as she saw her husband's smirk rise to his lips, both his hands dropping to her hips to tug her back onto his length.

"Then let us begin"

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard | @bellstwd | @blairfox04 | @hb8301  | @jamespotterismydaddy | @mochi-rose | @nenelysian | @natty2017 | @randomdragonfires  | @risefallrise  | @theoneeyedprince  | @thelittleswanao3 | @tsujifreya  | @urmomsgirlfriend1  | @valeskafics  | @watercolorskyy

#prince aemond x you #prince aemond x reader #aemond x fem!reader #prince aemond targaryen #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfiction #prince aemond fic #aemond fanfic #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #prince aemond targaryen smut #halloween oneshot #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #aemond fandom #aemond stannies #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond angst #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon aemond #hotd aemond #prince aemond smut #hotd fandom #hotd fan fiction

[shiningsuki]

The First Promise

.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･ Book 1 of the STARRY WITNESS Miniseries

full series on AO3. xavier x mc. your first life together.

SYNOPSIS: You meet a boy like light itself who brightens your darkest days. He makes your last days outshine the rest of your short life by light years.

Chapter 1 Preview *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

Mornings in Philos, especially in the early spring season, are never really quiet. There is a buzz in the air—if one listens close enough, one feels the vibrations, life tingling all around. Evol, the energy that makes the universe and the source of your power, hangs everything in the balance. You feel it humming beneath your skin as you walk to school, waving your arm in the air. Your fingers wiggle slightly with the movement. With an absentminded awareness, you sense your Evol connecting with the air around you; your body and nature are always in harmony.

This all passes as fleeting thoughts. As soon as you pour your energy into the connection, you feel it draining just as fast. You drop your arm and make a sweeping glance around the market you pass through to get to school. The Academy’s campus lies in the heart of town, and your dorm is just under a ten-minute walk from school.

It’s a rare sunny day. Philos’ frequent storms and cloudy days finally break into a cool, spring morning. The streets begin to wake up. Older men and women set up their stalls. More cars start to pass you on the sidewalk. The humming you sense begins to amplify, ever so slowly, an exponential rise that you’ve come to recognize as second nature. As the world wakes up, so does its resonance, the one that connects your Evol to everything.

You adjust your backpack on your shoulders. Then you tuck your hands underneath your armpits, your hoodie’s thick material providing a little more warmth from the chill. It’s still cold this early in the year, but you try to make up for it by layering your uniform accordingly.

You calculate that you’re about five minutes from school when an entourage of large black cars zoom past you. Since the sidewalk is so close to the main street, the sheer speed makes gusts of wind blow toward your body. It makes your hair fly around and you instinctively hug yourself tighter. The added draft doesn’t help with the morning temperature.

Curious, you eye the line of cars and wonder who’s important enough to ride in them. They turn towards the school’s direction. You eventually follow into the same street, and the Academy’s gates greet you several feet ahead.

History teaches all of Philos’ citizens that the Academy is a stepping stone for the best and brightest students to utilize Evol in its various ways. They could study it in research labs. They could become Lightseekers and protect humanity from Wanderers and other universal threats. They could even become explorers, traversing the Deepspace tunnel into the vast corners of the universe. Discover whether or not you all are the last living organisms in this plane of existence.

None of it appeals to you. Granted, you can’t see so far ahead in the future. This is your first year at the Academy, yet even after the break, your prospects seem dim at best. Everyone tells you that you have time to figure it out. But time has never been your ally.

You subconsciously rub your chest as you approach the gates. They’re wide open for an hour before the start of the school day. In the circle drive, you see the black cars from earlier all piled up one after the other, parked in front of the main building. Outside each car, a large man stands guard, sunglasses covering their eyes and an earpiece tucked behind their ears. They scan their surroundings. You make eye contact with them, though you can’t really tell. They don’t spare you another glance.

As you approach closer, one of the car doors opens. A flash of silver hair glints in the rising sunlight then disappears just as quickly behind a pair of guards. They flank this person on all sides as they enter the school.

Strange, you think. Someone important is visiting? It’s after break, but you don’t remember hearing news of a welcome-back assembly or important announcement anytime soon. Then again, you don’t pay too much attention to what happens outside your classes. You follow a group of students entering the doors. You catch a bit of their conversation. They too wonder what the mysterious entourage’s presence means at the school.

Read the full chapter here ✧·ﾟ: *✧·:*

© shiningsuki on Tumblr and suki_dreams on AO3. all rights and permissions belong to the author. reposting without permission is prohibited. all depictions of love and deepspace are inspired and unaffiliated with official storylines and characters.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #xavier #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #my fics #NEW SERIES ALERT!!! #it's been two years since i wrote something in the fanfiction realm #it's good to be back #is it annoying to make people read on tumblr and AO3... #if it is oh whale #ENJOY!!!!! #leave feedback in my ask box pls #or just reblog with ur tag thoughts that would be Fantastic #loving you thank you for reading my stuff #shiningsuki #shiningsukifics #ao3

[jerzwriter]

Rollercoaster

Thank you to @starsarewithinme for the <100 words drabble request for Trystan, Carolina/Rollercoaster. It's a ton of silly fluff, but I hope you will enjoy it!

Book: Crimes of Passion (Post Book 2) Pairing: Trystan Thorne x F!MC (Carolina Rose) Words: Uhm. 1,400. (Only 1,300 more than 100! lol) Rating: Teen Category: Utter Fluff Summary: Trystan offers Carolina a penny for her thoughts... then he wishes he could give them back.... just a little. A/N: Participating in @choicesnovchallenge | Fireworks Night

There was much that Trystan Thorne admired about Carolina Rose. If asked to list the qualities and attributes he found most endearing, he would demand at least a week’s time to capture them all, knowing he’d still come up short when his time reached an end. Her natural beauty, incomparable sass, and sheer audacity were the first things to pique his interest. But, the more he came to know her, the more he knew her mind was the most fascinating thing about the woman who owned his heart.

She was brilliant... but not in a way that can be learned from books, but in a manner that is only earned through life experience. Sharp, intuitive, and quick-witted... she had a knack for knowing just what to do, just what to say, regardless of circumstances. Facing down a serial killer? Cutting a bigot down to size on the subway? Making him smile after a grueling day? Tending to an injured kitten outside her uncle’s bar? Carolina always sprung into action before he could even take stock of the situation, leaving him more awestruck each time.

It’s no wonder trying to read her mind had become one of his favorite pastimes, whether they were at work or at play. Sometimes, she’d catch him staring at her intently as she poured over the details of a case, stared out a window, or bopped around her apartment, dancing to music only she could hear. He’d often ask what she was thinking, and he could now guess with about fifty percent accuracy – something he was immensely proud of.

But recently, Carolina’s therapist all but ordered her to find little ways to reduce stress in her everyday life. And this time, it was Trystan who sprung into action. He ran to a corner gift shop, returning with a vast assortment of colorful gel pens, retro stickers, glitter glue, and notebooks festooned with images of unicorns, rainbows, and cartoon cats.

“What on earth is this for?” Carolina chuckled as Trystan scratched his head.

“I don’t know, exactly,” he admitted. “But how can anyone be stressed in the presence of glitter, unicorns, and adorable kittens? We’ll find a way to put it all to good use.”

And, of course, Carolina did. Popping in her earbuds, she’d pick the most insipid pop songs she could find, typically from Trystan’s playlists, and doodle whatever came to mind. Soon, the pink and lavender pages of the notebooks he gifted her were filled with Carolina Rose originals. Every time she did this, she was so happy and at ease that Trystan forgot about his mind-reading hobby. After all, seeing her so content warmed his heart. But some days, like today, he was curious.

Carolina’s smiles had been punctuated with delightful little giggles, but when he peeked over her shoulder to see what she was drawing, he couldn’t make sense of the abstract loops and swirls. She caught him staring at her over his latte and removed her earbuds with a smirk. 

“Yes?” she asked playfully.

“Nothing,” she swore she saw him blush. “I’m just....”

“Just what?”

“I’m wondering what you’re thinking of. You seem so happy this morning.”  

“I am,” she grinned, shutting her notebook. “I’ve been doodling all the things I want to do with you.”

“Oh... really,” he smiled lasciviously with a raised brow.

Carolina tossed her head back in laughter. “Keep it in your pants, Thorne. These thoughts are as PG-13 as the Hello Kitty notebooks you gave me.”

Trystan sheepishly pushed a shiny silver quarter across the table, then placed it in Carolina’s hand.

“What is the saying? A penny for your thoughts? This should buy me at least twenty-five of yours. Now I must know... what is it you wish to do with me,” he grinned.

Carolina jumped onto his lap, eagerly pointing to the various drawings. She pointed to a pair of ice skates, telling him they’d be going to Rockefeller Center, Wollman Rink, and Bryant Park very soon. Then she tapped on a sketch of a picnic basket she planned to fill with treats to share. Some waves along a beautiful shore, with a blanket made for two, were just how she imagined their trips to the beach next summer would be. Then, her excitement doubled.

“And this! This is the best of all!”

“What is it?” he asked.

“The Cyclone. At Coney Island... have you ever been?”

“Uhm... I can’t say that I have.”

Carolina clapped her hands with delight, a squeal befitting a thirteen-year-old escaping her. “Good!” she beamed. “Then I get to take you on your first ride! I found myself a Cyclone virgin!”

“A Cyclone... virgin? What exactly do you plan to do with me? Offer me as a sacrifice?”

“Trystan,” she reprimanded. “Given our history, can we refrain from talking about sacrifices?”

“Duly noted,” he smiled. “But what about the Cyclone?”

“I told you! We’re riding it! I figured we could do that as soon as Luna Park opens in April. Then, we can head over to Jersey and go to Six Flags. We’ll start with El Toro and then move on to Nitro and Kingda Ka. The following weekend, we have to go to Hershey Park! Their coasters aren’t as scary, but they have so many! And I don’t care what anyone says, Storm Runner is still enough to scare the crap out of you! We’re going to have....”

She came down from her reverie long enough to notice the pale expression spreading on her boyfriend’s face.

“Trystan? Is everything all right?”

“Yes. Sure. Fine.... it’s only November.”

“And?” she asked, perplexed.

“That gives me four, five months to prepare. Are their classes?”

“Classes?” She giggled. “For riding rollercoasters?”

“No... classes to get over my fear of riding rollercoasters.”

“Trystan Thorne! You’re not telling me that you, the former prince of Drakovia, are afraid of... rollercoasters.”

“It’s a little detail we hid from the public eye. It would have brought great shame to the family. However, I assure you, I am not afraid. The more appropriate word would be horrified. I am absolutely horrified by rollercoasters. So, needless to say, I have to end up with a girlfriend with a rollercoaster fetish.”

“I wouldn’t call it a fetish,” she laughed. “But I do love me a good coaster.”

“Right... so, are their classes?”

Carolina looped her arms around his neck. “Trystan, I’m teasing you. But if you’re really frightened by them, I’m certainly not going to force you to go on with me.”

“But if it’s something you’re looking forward to, I want to do it with you.”

She placed a quick peck on his cheek. “And that means so much to me, but it’s OK. We can double date with Luke and Ruby. She loves a good coaster as much as I do, but Luke, not so much. So we can be all badass and you guys can hold our purses or something.”

“Great,” Trystan sighed. “I’d like to at least try. Don’t they have kiddie coasters I can start with?”

“Sure, but we probably surpass the height limits. They are kiddie coasters, after all.”

“Damn!” he spat.

“It’s really all right, babe. There are plenty of fun things we can do at amusement parks without putting you on a rollercoaster.”

“Are you sure?”

“Very!”

“So, tell me about these fun things,” he asked, wagging his brows.

“Well, there is the merry-go-round.... the bumper cars....”

“Oh, I excel at bumper cars. You are going down, Detective Rose!”

“HA! I learned to drive on the Grand Concourse in the Bronx, baby... we’ll see about that!”

A big smile spread on her face as she pointed to a page virtually covered in an explosion of glitter.

“And, of course, there is this. The fireworks at the end of the night. We’ll watch together with a delicious treat in hand. It can be popcorn, cotton candy, ice cream.... what do you think you’ll want?”

“If I’m snuggled up with you? Then I’ll already have my delicious treat.”

“Aww, you’re the best, Trystan,” Carolina teased. “Even if you are a rollercoaster wuss.”

“I’m sorry, Carolina, but no one is perfect. Not even me.”

“Nope,” she said with a bop to his nose. “But you come damn close.”

Carolina was surprised to see him take out his phone; his attention shifted away from her. 

“Hey, what are you doing? “

“I’m looking into books on how to overcome silly fears. I’m getting on those coasters with you, Carolina. After all... you deserve perfection.”

@choicesficwriterscreations - Tags on reblog.

#choices fanfic #playchoices #choices stories you play #crimes of passion #trystan thorne #trystan thorne x f!mc #trystan x carolina #crimes of passion choices #playchoices fanfic #rollercoasters

[razorblade180]

Found

Aether:*opens letter*

“Hello my student! If you’re reading this…”

Aether:…Paimon, I’m going out to the desert and will be back deep into the night.

…..

Aether:Paimon?

He peeks into her open room to see her engrossed in one of her many new murder mystery books. She gives him a thumbs up without looking up from the page. Aether kinda wished he knew her reading tastes earlier. His companion actually looked well off with her own company.

xxxxx

A short boat ride and a detailed map showed him the way into ancient ruins where it didn’t take long for him to find Faruzan under a mural as she fiddled with ancient mechanisms.

Aether:Is class still in session?

Faruzan:Huh? Oh! Hello Aether. Fancy meeting you all the way out here. Did the appeal of my studies finally sink its nails into you?

Aether:*holds letter* Happy Birthday.

Faruzan:…Ah, yes. *red* I can’t believe I actually forgot. Good thing I had the foresight to write the letter!

Aether:Why do I have the feeling you could’ve simply chosen not to be here until after your birthday.

Faruzan:Idle hands lose their talents. If you had a lead an important lead to your journeys around your birthday, you wouldn’t dally now would you? *smiles*

Aether:Fair enough. So are we in this together or am I escorting you back?

Faruzan:I wrapped up what I was curious about. Also as your senior, it would be rather rude to keep you out here after disrupting your day. Let’s head back to my camp at least.

She gathered her belongings and walked beside Aether. Faruzan wasn’t expecting him to casually hand her a small wrapped box, but that didn’t stop her eyes from lighting up.

Faruzan:Going the extra mile are we? If I didn’t know any better I’d say you remembered my birthday without the letter I sent you. *opens box*

Inside were small silver and golden gears and components fashioned into a rather interesting bracelet. Not only did it match her particular style, but from intricate design, Faruzan immediately realized this wasn’t a rushed job. It would in fact take time in advance to make this. She looked over at Aether who smiled smugly at her comment.

Faruzan:Well aren’t we cheeky today? Thank you for the gift.

Aether:I’m always fighting mechanical stuff. I should thank you for giving me something to do with the extra pieces. Now you don’t have to miss me as much.

Faruzan:The nerve! You only just left! I have classes to teach and a variety of other things to keep me preoccupied. You should be flattered if I spare a moment to wonder how you are so-

tick-tick-tick

Aether watched Faruzan look down at the new bracelet she wore as they walked under the desert moon. The analytic woman quickly figured out the accessory was also a puzzle that she solved remarkably quickly; Aether took time to make it but looks like he was severely outwitted in terms of puzzle design. A circle plate on it opened up to reveal moving gears that glowed light blue.

Faruzan:Oh! It functions as a watch?

Aether:Kinda. It’s a timer you can set. I’m sure you could probably make it into a full blown watch but I’m not clever enough for all that. Still, with this timer you can always know how long you’ve been in a ruin. It’ll help you remember people are waiting to see you again.

Stunned into silence. Faruzan was never one to dwell on the past, but his words resonated deeply. She was never bothered by going things alone or getting lost in her research. If Aether hadn’t shown up today, then nothing would’ve been lost. However, now that he was here, Faruzan felt a sense of warmth from having someone waiting for her. So many people had waited for her return. It was…a relief to be on time for once. Enjoying the quiet company, she grabbed his hand as they continued walking through the vast desert.

#genshin impact #gi faruzan #gi aether #she thinks he’s neat #stasis buddies #gi paimon

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tags @somethingclevermahogony, @elsie-writes, and @frostedlemonwriter!

Find the Word Tag

I'll do all these in one, why the fuck not?

My words: laugh, cozy, answer, entire, brown, fish, run, screech, down, drumming, intense, swallow, inspire

Your words: dwell, thick, circus, berry

Ok, Honor's Outcasts, let's do this. I just checked and I've got fish in there a total of 74 times, this is gonna be fun

. . . .

<Today's the first day of Jasartra Eim, so I planned on doing some meditation around the fifteenth hour. If you care to join me, we can check the traps afterwards.>

<It's not that long a ritual,> he added as Izjik grimaced.

It wasn't that she was opposed to religion. Hell, she found it beyond impressive that Sepo had kept his faith throughout the conflagration that was his life, even if it was a faith that had a history of drowning innocent people. But her record when it came to gods was... messy.

<I take it you'll pass. Sorry....> Sepo was well aware of what had landed her in the highest security oubliette Illaros had to offer.

"It's fine." She forced a laugh. "Meditation's just not really my thing."

.

Izjik now knew why Sepo always complained about their cozy tenement. He'd grown up in a place like this, hadn't he? In luxury. A single damn rug here made their rooms seem like a sty!

Where they weren't coveted with strange, gorgeous curtains, the marble blocks were a furor of swirling gold and white. Their steps echoed around the vast room, bouncing off of carved columns, only to be absorbed by the weird image-bearing cloths. The whole place smelled like the first breeze of a honeysuckle summer.

.

Undeta swept her hand back and forth, as if bored, though no such emotion showed in her eyes. "Yes, you've sung this song a hundred times. From the moment we picked you up at that dingy hovel you thought you could lie low in, you've been singing away like a little canary. Tell me, Tyche, did you think it would save you?"

Tyche looked away, not bothering to answer. She'd been a fool trying to play both sides. A greedy, grasping fool. She'd thought herself, if not able to play the game exactly, then able to at least cheat off of those who knew the rules. But little did she know, she'd never even realized what pieces the powers of the world were using.

.

Maybe Izjik should've been more curious about the occult cloud that had shaded her entire life, yet she couldn't quite bring herself to it. Never once had she wanted to learn more about End and what made her its flesh exactly. She'd get those answers, to find out what the sirens wanted with her at least, but damn if she wasn't scared of what they'd be.

.

Sepo had always been one of those people who looked like shit no matter how much they slept or ate, but under the gilded light, Izjik failed to hold in her shock at how wasted he seemed.

The man had practically aged ten years in three months - quite the feat for someone whose golk could live well over three centuries and not look a day over twenty-five. Sepo’s cheeks were nearly as sunked as they'd been when the pair had first met, and his eyes were ringed with shadow. At his temples, Izjik noticed several streaks of gray shining amidst the brown.

With a chuckle, Izjik poked at the side of his head.

"We match," she smiled, ruffling her own head of silver.

<Actually, this whole thing was just a plan to steal your look,> Sepo signed with a smirk. <I've decided gray is going to be my color from now on.>

.

Upon making his way over to the rest of the gaggle, Djek discovered them to be in full scheming mode. Which meant Sepo was plotting with Twenari in rapid-fire handsigns, while Izjik interjected with the occasional observation or revelation that something was stupid or the plan was terrible.

Surprisingly enough, the fish seemed to be acting perfectly civil around each other. They weren't back to their full swing, sibling-level banter, but they were at least speaking. Djek figured the pair wouldn't have lasted long in the Trench if they didn't know how to act professional in a time of crisis. Thank the gods for small mercies.

.

Fear now accompanying pain, the woman tore off a strip of her shirtsleeve and jammed it desperately against the wound, fresh needles of pain cropping up with the pressure.

How could she fix a gut wound? Panic mounting, Izjik recalled an instance from her childhood.

In her eleventh year, one of the hunters had run afoul of a tusked water deer during a patrol. It hadn't been a deep wound, the buck not being more than a little thing, but the puncture had been pretty close to where hers was now. Everyone had been sure brawny Raluheh would pull through. Five agonizing, rot-fulled days later, the enclave had been proven wrong.

.

"You- you're sparing me?" the siren coughed out.

Sepo gestured for him to go with a jerk of his chin.

"But what about our deal?" he whined. "You have no idea what I-"

Sepo cut off his complaints by shoving him towards the alley's exit.

"You little ingrate! You can't just expect me to leave without an answer!" Cintillios screeched.

Sepo shrugged, then brandished his dagger as if weighing it against the priest's freedom.

"You will give me an answer, you mute abomination! Even if I have to force it from your lips!"

.

Slipped inbetween Izjik’s arguments was a hard, dead silence.

"That doesn't mean I can't make my own calls!"

There was a hissed breath in response, then more silence.

"Like you would've done any different? Be honest!"

Breathe, breathe. In and out.

Twenari sighed, moving over to plop down onto their raggedy little settee. It wasn't like an argument was uncommon for the pair. Hell, she's heard them argue over the color of a woman's hat once. A woman, she might add, who'd been standing right next to then in a bank queue, and whose blushing face had perfectly complimented her obviously blue hat.

There'd been more serious discussions too, but when those had coma along, both seafolk seemed to rein it in a bit. Izjik’s voice lost its fiery indignation while Sepo toned down his typical vitriol.

That balance wasn't happening now. In fact, from what she could hear and deduce, the two were pulling out all the nasty, petty stops.

.

Twenari pawed at her eyes, knowing her life may depend on clearing them more quickly than her opponent. She spied a hazy shape before her, unrecognizable for a moment with its golden locks singed an ashen black. Tyche clawed at her own face, muscles tensed in pain. Twenari guessed the Ekektan was screaming. Only guessed though - all the girl could hear was an intense ringing.

.

A moment of silence followed in both rooms, the sort that felt painful to maintain, yet too awkward to break. However, Twenari hadn't gotten to where she was in life by listening to social cues. Swallowing, she screwed up her courage and stammered the question.

"Um, Djek, are you holding up ok?"

For a second, the Amaranthi's gap-toothed smile seemed frozen in place, shocked into a state of preservation while any happiness drained from his eyes.

"I, uh, I'm doing great. What are you talking about?" He chuckled unconvincingly. "You know me, heart of nails and all that."

Twenari didn't dignify that last part with any response more than a deadpan stare.

. . . .

And that's a wrap! Open tag because I'm tired :)

#writing #writerscommunity #writblr #my ocs #find the word game

[pseudomonacarriea]

@ramshacklestar asked:

Yuuna scurries through the vast castle of Diasmonia getting a few curious glances along the way about how she could wander around such a place without being distressed. Truly though Yuu was hiding her ever growing fear the dreary castle making her wonder if the foundation might collapse or if she might be struck by lightning from the ominous clouds that lingered over head. She was going to give Crowley a piece of her mind about making her come here, but that was only after completing her task. Finally catching a sight of the person she'd been sent to seek out Yuuna quite literally runs up to the knight. Probably foolish considering he'd likely have a instinctual urge to draw a weapon when run up on, but surely he wouldn't do anything when he saw who it was. She hoped anyway. "Silver! Wait! I have something for you."

Unprompted Asks -- Always Accepting!

The sound of loud squeaks fills the air as a black rabbit attempts to keep him awake. Another spell hit him, leaving Silver nearly stopped in the middle of the hall if left alone. Were it not for Aedre's constant squeaks and the sound of Yuu's footsteps, he might have taken a nap right there and then. 

Instinctively, he raises a hand to the rabbit tugging on his collar. Gentle fingers glide across her back while hushed words, intended only for her ears, are spoken to soothe her. Yuu caught up to the sleepy guard just as she began to calm down.

"Yes, Prefect?"

What was so important that she needed to run at him?

#ramshacklestar #∘Question #∘Twisted Wonderland #◇; silver: ic

[link3dart]

Once upon a time, in a quaint little town nestled between rolling hills and shimmering lakes, lived a curious young woman named Emma. She had always been fascinated by the night sky and often spent her evenings stargazing, dreaming of far-off galaxies and unknown worlds.

One clear night, while Emma was lying on a blanket in her backyard, tracing constellations with her finger, a brilliant streak of light cut across the sky. She gasped, her heart racing with excitement. Could it be a shooting star? But this wasn't an ordinary meteor; it was a spaceship from a distant star system.

The spaceship landed gracefully in a nearby field, its metallic exterior gleaming in the moonlight. Out stepped Zara, an extraterrestrial traveler with shimmering blue skin and silver eyes that sparkled like stars. Zara had come in peace, on a mission to explore Earth and forge connections with its inhabitants.

Emma's initial shock soon gave way to awe and curiosity. She approached Zara cautiously, her heart pounding in her chest. With a smile, Zara extended a hand in a gesture of friendship, and Emma tentatively reached out to shake it.

Through a series of clicks, whistles, and translated thoughts, Zara explained that she was a scientist from a distant planet named Astrola. She had been studying the universe's wonders and had heard stories of Earth's beauty and diversity. Emma, in turn, shared tales of human history, culture, and the natural wonders that adorned their planet.

As days turned into weeks, Emma and Zara embarked on incredible adventures together. They explored dense forests, climbed majestic mountains, and sailed across serene lakes. Zara's advanced technology allowed them to communicate effortlessly, bridging the gap between their worlds.

Word of Emma's newfound friend began to spread, and the town's residents were both curious and apprehensive about the alien visitor. Emma decided to organize a "Galactic Gathering," inviting everyone to meet Zara and learn about her culture. Zara showcased Astrolan art, music that resonated like cosmic melodies, and incredible holographic displays of her home planet.

At the gathering, doubts turned into wonder, and fear transformed into curiosity. People from all walks of life came together, eager to understand and connect. Bonds were forged that transcended space and time, and the town became a shining example of unity and acceptance.

As the seasons changed, Zara's time on Earth drew to a close. With a heavy heart, Emma stood by the spaceship that had become a symbol of interstellar friendship. Zara expressed gratitude for the unforgettable experiences and the friends she had made. She gifted Emma a small, glowing crystal that contained the essence of Astrola's starlight.

With a final hug and a promise to stay in touch across the galaxies, Zara's spaceship lifted off, soaring into the night sky and disappearing beyond the stars. Emma watched until the spaceship became a distant speck, her heart filled with both sadness and gratitude.

From that day on, Emma continued to gaze at the night sky, knowing that her friend Zara was out there, exploring the cosmos and fostering connections with other worlds. And as for the small crystal, it continued to glow, reminding Emma of the extraordinary adventure she had shared with an alien friend and the boundless possibilities that the universe held.

And so, the story of Emma and Zara's interstellar friendship became a tale whispered among the stars, inspiring hope, unity, and the belief that even the vast expanse of space couldn't hinder the bonds of true friendship.

#CosmicEncounters 🛸✨ #IntoTheUnknown: Alien Adventures 🌌👽 #StarboundConnections 🌟🌍 #BeyondEarthlyBounds 🚀🌠 #UFOQuestsAndAdventures 🛰️🌌 #GalacticMysteriesUnveiled 🛸🔍 #EyesOnTheSkies 👁️🌌 #FriendshipAcrossGalaxies 🌌❤️ #UnveilingExtraterrestrialLife 👽🔦 #StellarExplorations 🌠🌏 #AlienAbductionsAndOtherTales 🛸👾 #CosmicConversations 🌌🗣️ #UFOHuntersUnite 🌠🔍 #BeyondTheStarsTogether 👽🌌 #SpaceWhispersAndWonders 🚀🪐 #AdventuresInExtraterrestrialTerritory 👽🌎 #BridgingWorlds: Humans and Aliens 🌍👽 #ETAdventures 🚀👾 #CloseEncountersOfTheTumblrKind 👁️👽 #AlienCuriosity 🌌🔮

#Youtube

[groundluxe]

How to Use Earthing Mat: Setup, Success Stories & Tips

I've always been fascinated by the concept of grounding or earthing and how it connects us to the natural electric charge of the Earth. It's a practice that has gained traction for its potential health benefits, including reducing inflammation, improving sleep, and enhancing well-being. When I discovered earthing mats, I knew I had to dive deeper and share my findings. These mats promise a convenient way to ground yourself indoors, but using them correctly is key to reaping their full benefits.

In this article, I'll guide you through the basics of how to use an earthing mat effectively. Whether you're a wellness enthusiast or just curious about incorporating grounding into your daily routine, you'll find valuable insights here. Let's explore together how this simple tool can make a significant impact on our health and connect us more deeply to the natural world.

Understanding the Basics of Earthing Mats

Earthing mats, intriguing tools designed to mimic the earth's natural electric charge, offer a practical way to ground oneself indoors. As I delve into the basics, it's crucial to grasp their composition and function. Typically, these mats are made of a conductive material—like carbon or conductive silver fibers—connecting directly to the earth or a grounding system in your home. This connection facilitates the transfer of the earth's electrons to your body, intending to restore a natural balance.

Setting up an earthing mat is quite straightforward. First, place the mat in an area where you spend a lot of time, such as under your desk or bed. Most earthing mats come with a cord that connects to a grounded outlet or directly to the ground outside using a grounding rod. Ensuring this connectivity is imperative for the mat to function effectively.

When using an earthing mat, direct skin contact is essential. Whether sitting, standing, or lying down, ensure parts of your body—like your feet or hands—are in direct contact with the mat. This direct contact facilitates the electron transfer process, believed to neutralize free radicals and, as research suggests, may reduce inflammation and improve sleep.

Maintaining your earthing mat is as simple as using it. Cleaning it regularly with mild soap and water, and checking the connectivity periodically, ensures its effectiveness isn't compromised. Remember, the mat's durability and lifespan depend heavily on its quality and how well you care for it.

Incorporating an earthing mat into my daily routine has been a game-changer. Beyond the potential health benefits, it's a step toward reconnecting with nature's healing properties—even when I can't be outdoors. The simplicity of the concept, matched with the complexity of its potential benefits, underscores the importance of understanding and utilizing this tool correctly.

The Benefits of Using Earthing Mats

Transitioning smoothly from setting up and maintaining an earthing mat, it's crucial to delve into why incorporating this tool into one's daily routine is transformative. The benefits of using earthing mats are vast and scientifically backed, ensuring that individuals understand the full scope of their potential impact on health and well-being.

Firstly, earthing mats significantly reduce inflammation in the body. By establishing a physical connection to the earth, these mats help to neutralize free radicals, which are known contributors to inflammation and chronic pain. Studies, such as those published in the Journal of Inflammation Research, support these claims, making earthing a compelling strategy for managing conditions related to inflammation.

Secondly, they enhance sleep quality. Aligning one's body with the earth's natural electrical field through an earthing mat can improve circadian rhythms and sleep patterns. My experience mirrors research findings, noting deeper sleep and reduced waking during the night since incorporating the mat into my nightly routine. This improvement in sleep quality is pivotal for overall health, considering the crucial role of sleep in body recovery and mental health.

Additionally, earthing mats increase energy levels. Many users, including myself, report feeling more refreshed and energized upon waking. This surge in vitality is likely due to the improved sleep quality and reduced stress levels associated with the grounding effect of earthing mats.

Improving cardiovascular health is another significant benefit. Regular use of an earthing mat can normalize blood pressure and improve blood flow, as indicated by research in the Journal of Alternative and Complementary Medicine. These changes are key for preventing cardiovascular diseases and enhancing heart health.

Lastly, earthing mats help in stress relief and mood improvement. By connecting to the earth, one can lower cortisol levels, the stress hormone, thereby fostering a sense of calm and well-being. Anecdotal evidence and studies alike note reductions in stress, anxiety, and depressive symptoms, making earthing mats a beneficial tool for mental health.

The benefits of using earthing mats extend from physical to mental health improvements. Whether it's reducing inflammation, enhancing sleep quality, increasing energy levels, improving cardiovascular health, or aiding in stress relief, the science and personal experiences affirm the positive impact of earthing mats on overall well-being.

Step-by-Step Guide on How to Use Earthing Mats

Following the discussion on the health benefits of earthing mats, such as reducing inflammation and improving sleep quality, it's essential to understand how to use these transformative tools effectively. Here, I'll walk you through a detailed guide on setting up and utilizing your earthing mat to ensure you're getting the maximum benefit.

Unpack and Place Your Mat: First, remove your earthing mat from its packaging. Place it in an area where you'll utilize it most, such as under your work desk or beside your bed. Ensuring the mat's surface is flat and unobstructed is crucial for direct contact.

Connect to a Ground Port: Most earthing mats come with a cord to connect the mat to the earth's energy. Locate the grounding port on your electrical outlet and plug in the cord. If you're unsure, a grounding port is usually the third hole on an electrical outlet that isn't one of the main plug-ins.

Test for Conductivity: Some earthing mats include a tester to ensure the connection is active. Use this tool following the instructions provided. This step verifies that your mat is properly conducting the earth's electrons.

Bare Skin for Best Results: For optimal results, make direct contact with the mat with your bare skin. Common contact points include feet, hands, or even sleeping on it if it's placed on your bed. The electrons from the earth transfer better without the barrier of clothing or shoes.

Incorporate into Your Routine: To benefit from the earthing mat, make it a part of your daily routine. Whether working at a desk, practicing yoga, or sleeping, incorporating earthing into these activities can enhance the health benefits discussed, like increased energy levels and better cardiovascular health.

Maintain Your Mat: Keep your earthing mat clean and dry. Gently wipe it with a mild cleaning solution or soap and water as needed, ensuring not to damage the surface.

By following these steps, you're set to harness the grounding benefits of your earthing mat. Remember, consistency is key to experiencing significant improvements in your physical and mental well-being.

Troubleshooting Common Issues

After covering the fundamental aspects of setting up and using earthing mats, it's crucial to address potential problems you might encounter. Even with meticulous care, issues can arise. Here, I'll discuss the common ones and offer straightforward solutions.

Poor Connectivity

Experiencing a lack of grounding effects might be due to poor connectivity. First, ensure that the earthing mat's cord is securely plugged into the grounding port of your electrical outlet. If the connection seems secure but issues persist, testing the outlet for proper grounding with a grounding checker is advisable. This tool verifies if your outlet is correctly grounded, a critical step for the earthing mat to function.

Wear and Tear

Regular use will inevitably lead to wear and tear. Inspect your mat for any visible damage, such as tears or thinning areas, which can impair its functionality. If damage is found, replacing the mat is the best course of action to ensure you're receiving optimal grounding effects.

Cleaning and Maintenance Concerns

A dirty mat might not only be unhygienic but could also interfere with its conductivity. To clean your mat, gently wipe it down with a non-corrosive cleaner and a soft cloth. Avoid using harsh chemicals or abrasive scrubbing tools that could damage the surface. Regular cleaning maintains the mat's effectiveness and longevity.

Sensitivity or Reactions

If you experience skin sensitivity or allergic reactions, it can be concerning. Some individuals might react to the materials used in the mat. If this occurs, try using a thin fabric layer between your skin and the mat. This barrier can mitigate reactions while still allowing you to benefit from the grounding effects. However, if symptoms persist, discontinuing use and consulting a healthcare provider is recommended.

By understanding how to troubleshoot these common issues, you can enhance your experience with earthing mats. Maintaining connectivity, addressing wear and tear promptly, keeping the mat clean, and managing sensitivity are all manageable with a bit of attention. This way, you'll continue to enjoy the grounding benefits without unnecessary disruptions.

Real-Life Success Stories

In my journey exploring the benefits of earthing mats, I've encountered numerous testimonials that highlight how transformative they can be. I've seen firsthand and heard from others about the profound impact these mats have had on their health and well-being. Here, I'd like to share a few real-life success stories that exemplify the potential benefits of incorporating an earthing mat into your routine.

Improved Sleep Quality: One of the most common feedback themes involves significant improvements in sleep patterns. For instance, a friend of mine struggled with insomnia for years and tried everything from medication to meditation. After incorporating an earthing mat into her nightly routine, she experienced deeper, more restorative sleep within weeks. She reported falling asleep faster and feeling more refreshed upon waking.

Reduced Chronic Pain: Chronic pain sufferers have also shared remarkable stories of relief. A colleague of mine, dealing with long-standing back pain, started using an earthing mat at his desk and another one in bed. He noted a considerable reduction in his back pain and an improvement in his overall mobility. What's more, he was able to decrease his reliance on pain medication.

Enhanced Physical Recovery: Athletes and fitness enthusiasts have touted earthing mats for their recovery benefits. A gym buddy, after incorporating earthing into his recovery protocol, noticed a significant reduction in muscle soreness and faster recovery times post-workout. This allowed him to increase the frequency and intensity of his training sessions without the usual drawbacks.

Increased Energy Levels: Numerous individuals have also reported a notable increase in their day-to-day energy levels. A neighbor of mine, who used to complain about feeling lethargic and drained by midday, started using an earthing mat under her feet while working. She's experienced a steady increase in her energy levels and an improved mood.

These success stories offer a glimpse into the potential benefits that earthing mats can provide. From improving sleep and reducing pain to enhancing physical recovery and boosting energy levels, the positive testimonials are hard to ignore. Each story serves as a testament to the grounding effects of earthing mats and reinforces the importance of incorporating these tools into a holistic approach to health and well-being.

Conclusion

Embracing the practice of using earthing mats has proven to be a game-changer for many. The stories I've shared underscore not just the simplicity of integrating these mats into daily life but also the profound health benefits they can usher in. From better sleep to less pain and more energy, the advantages are as varied as they are significant. If you're looking to enhance your well-being in a natural and effective way, giving earthing mats a try could be the step you need. Remember, it's about making small changes for a big impact on your health journey.

#grounding #earthing #mats #sheets #inflammation

[rosesakura]

Hi hi!!! For ao3 wrapped:

3, 6, 12, 16, 18, 19, 20, 29, and/or 30! I wanna know everything about your writing lmao, sorry if I went overboard I’m just very curious!!

I literally love you

obligatory under the cut note because I am 99% Julie is the only one who wants to read this rambling lmfao

3 -- what work are you most proud of?

I fucking wish I could say my whumptober collection but we all know I massively failed at that so :)

I actually haven't written much this year so a lot of this is going to be repetitive lmfao I am actually proud of the progress I made on the stars are already dead because it's such a heavy topic to write about (cathartic for me, but also heavy) and for a while, I was updating pretty frequently.

6 -- favourite title you used

okay so I do actually love the the stars are already dead title because I think that it illustrates Oikawa's overwhelming sadness and depression. the thought process was playing on his connection to the stars and how he was always so excited by the vastness and awesomeness of space but now it seems so insignificant to him and he no longer has that kind of appreciation. also people would probably say he's a star athlete and so he's "already dead" because of being so numb because of his sister. I put a lot of thought into that title, actually!

12 -- how many WIPs do you have in your docs for next year?

LMFAO dude you are not ready. there's also a difference between wips I have started and which ones I actually aim to post and/or finish next year. for haikyuu, specifically? I think I have maybe 10? they include finishing tsaad, some more zombie background, mermaid AUs, and a new fic I don't think I've talked to you about before 👀

if I am including potential other fandoms, it's, uhh.... way more lol got a lot of fire emblem on my mind, specifically sylvix and casphardt, potentially some octopath? maybe some outlander! I am ambitious but I have no time lol

16 -- what's your most common "Additional tags" used?

protective *insert character name here* lol I am but a simple lady who just wants to feel safe. also hurt/comfort and emotional hurt/comfort

18 -- the character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

fucking YURI from fire emblem, god. he is impossible and part of the reason i lost my motivation for whumptober -.- Oikawa has also been a bit of a bitch for me this year, but I think that has ore to do with the fact that he is very severely depressed so it is altering the way I would usually write him. not impossible but has slowed me down a bit and stressed me out about being too ooc.

19 -- what's one pairing you want to explore next year?

I have so many tbh I am garbage. I have alwaaaaays wanted to try writing Tanaka/Kiyoko and I Will force myself to try that out sometime soon. also love Kyoutani/Yahaba and think they could be fun! I have also never written a poly ship before and have an idea for bokuakakuroken !

other pairings for other fandoms include (potentially) Todoroki/Momo, Claire/Jamie, Link/Zelda (haven't touched them for YEARS), and some older fire emblem games, perhaps Leo/Sakura, who I wrote my very first fic about.

20 -- which work of yours have you reread the most?

ones I haven't publish yet. LOL okay um here:

all the sylvix chapters from reach for my hand (oops I love them), demons at daybreak, soft silver kisses, and chapters 15-28 of Unravel (special attention to 23 because I am always in need of Daisuga)

I like to read my oneshots a lot because I am very low on time and energy, or I'll read parts to try and inspire me or make connections when writing another chapter

29 -- favourite line/passage you wrote this year?

I had to go hunting for this one. but it's from chapter 11 on tsaad and I think you commented on it too. I was so pleased with the whole interaction between Iwaizumi and Takeru and almost made myself cry rereading it today lol

"And it was in that moment that Iwaizumi truly understood: Takeru needed to talk about them. Iwaizumi and Oikawa had both been careful not to mention either of his parents, too worried about upsetting him. But Takeru wanted, probably even needed, to talk about them. After all, one of the ways the dead stay alive is through the lives of others, through their pictures, their memories, their stories, never truly fading from the earth as long as someone carries them in their heart."

also thought I'd post this lil snippet of an unpublished fic because i really like my idea for it :)

“Do you know what the worst part is?”

Kuroo snapped his mouth shut and swallowed sharply, scared to hear about the worst part.

Kenma drifted closer to him, close enough that he was nearly pressed against the glass. From this close, Kuroo could see the pain in his eyes, easily see the marks and cuts left over from his group’s poking and prodding.

“I thought that, out of everyone here, you would be the one person who wouldn’t hurt me or wouldn’t let anything bad happen. And I shouldn’t feel good with you here. But I do.”

Despite the positive note that Kenma’s sentence ended with, Kuroo couldn’t handle it. Kenma was right; he shouldn’t feel good with Kuroo here because Kuroo did let them hurt him. He had been so positive he’d be able to keep Kenma relatively safe. He had failed in the one thing he promised to do.

“I know,” he managed to choke out, glancing away when Kenma pressed his hand against the glass of the tank. “I know, I know I fucked up. I just came to check on you. I’ll go.”

“Aren’t you listening to me,” he snapped. “I don’t want you to.”

30 -- biggest surprise while writing this year?

that it's hard to do when you have a full time job. :) I'm always surprised when people like my writing tbh. i know that sounds bleh but it's true! especially with tsaad, it's a very personal and very sad story so to see people react to it so positively is a beautiful surprise <3

#thank you so much for letting me ramble! #and forcing me to reread my fic to find a good writing line from this year lmfaooo #i love you so so much thank you!!!! #lovely asks from lovely people #cat answers!

[dreamerstreamer]

Into The Woods

Pairing: werewolf!Dream / Clay x human!gn!reader

Summary: [Werewolf!AU] It’s love at first sight when you move into a quaint, little house by the forest’s edge, but you soon find that there’s more waiting for you in the woods than you originally thought. 

Word Count: 10k

A/N: my third commissioned story! this work has been altered so everyone can read it, but the plot remains the same. this story was a blast to write, and i hope you all enjoy it! <3

With a step back and a firm tug, the back door slammed shut with a satisfying click. You grinned as you turned the key in the lock. Slipping the silver keyring into your pocket, you turned on your heel, your gaze sweeping over the vast open forest that stretched out before you. Viridian green leaves loomed over the earth, standing in stark contrast to the clear, cerulean blue sky that stretched across the horizon overhead. On the ground below, the occasional wildflower sprouted up and out of the earth, their soft petals shyly unfurling and fluttering in the warm summer breeze.

For such a lovely view, you never would have guessed that you would be able to afford a place like this for so cheap.

Then again, Elmwood Ridge wasn’t a particularly notable town. Best known for its countless acres of elm forests and the large lake that laid at its centre, the town had become something of a nature reserve unto itself, despite being anything but. It was a quiet, quaint region, somewhere you had always distantly dreamed of visiting, if only because of its peaceful atmosphere. You never thought that you would end up living there, though.

It had been a split second decision made on impulse, and looking back, maybe it wasn’t the smartest move you’d ever made, but you didn’t regret one bit. Your new house was two stories tall and built with lovely stone bricks that looked like they came right out of a fairytale. The triangular sloping roof hung just over the sides of the house to provide some shelter from the rain, and the second floor had two balconies—one in the front and the back. Needless to say, you were sold in a heartbeat. Not only was the house pretty, but so was the price tag. You vaguely remembered hearing something about complaints of noisy wolves in the forest, but you weren't deterred. A little noise never killed anyone, and you were more than happy to share your space with nature.

Hopping down the back steps, you gently tread across the soft grass, careful not to step on any flowers as you walked. After moving in two days ago, you had planned to take the day off to hike and learn all that you could about your new backyard. You would head into town tomorrow and look for a job then—right now, all you wanted to do was explore and appreciate your new home.

Gazing up at the rustling elm leaves one last time, you smiled to yourself before stepping out of your lawn and into the forest.

In the distance, a faint howl rang out across the trees.

Between stretches of chestnut wood, a flash of tawny brown and golden fur dashed across the earth, powerful paws pushing off the ground with each leap. Landing atop a fallen log, the wolf raised his head, his muzzle raised toward the sky as he inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring.

Fresh. Clean. Warm. The faintest scent of flowers.

He exhaled, emerald eyes blinking as he scanned the open forest around him.

Carrying out routine morning patrols around the pack’s territory was one of the alpha’s many duties, but Clay still wasn’t quite used to it.

Stepping down from the log, he let his tongue hang out of his mouth, his ears flicking as he took in every sound. Somewhere above him, a bird flapped its wings, chirping as it took flight. Along the breeze, he could pick up the distant scent of deer coming from the south. His eyes flashed at the smell. He would have to report that to the pack when he returned—it had been a few days since they last had a large hunt. Sniffing one last time, he began weaving between the looming trunks, his entire body rapt with focus.

He had only been appointed as alpha a little less than a month ago, and although he had technically been taught the ropes, it took more than just a few lessons for a wolf to truly become alpha. He could still remember how the former alpha had pressed his nose to his side, nudging him onto the rock peak in front of his pack with an aging howl. He had been getting older, and everyone knew it—it was only a matter of time until a new leader was selected, but Clay never would have dreamt he would be the one who was chosen.

Only a few people were as surprised as he was, though. He was one of the larger wolves in the pack, and while he wasn’t the tallest in his human form—that title belonged to the young, curious Ranboo—he was by far the strongest, having led more than his fair share of hunts before. It was only natural that he ended up in his position, and he was welcomed into the upper ranks with open arms.

A glimmer of warmth washed over him at the memory, and he would have smiled if he wasn’t shifted. He had never felt such pride before, feeling everyone’s excited gazes on him as he howled up at the gleaming, full moon. The shouts that filled the starry night sky made his heart swell in his chest, and he just knew he was going to do his best to make everyone proud. He would protect them to the ends of the earth, if he had to.

Kicking away a stray branch, his eyes quickly flicked over his surroundings. He recognized this area, and he knew that he had almost completed a full circle around the pack’s perimeter, by now. There was only a tiny stretch left before he would return to the camp and fill everyone in. Raising his head, he let his jaw fall open to catch any aromas that travelled along the breeze.

All of a sudden, a new scent wafted over his nose, an unsettling sense of unfamiliarity striking deep within his core.

There was something in the woods—something that did not belong here.

In an instant, Clay’s lips were pulled back in a snark, his sharp canines bared as he sank his paws into the soil below. His claws latched onto the dirt, his grip firm and unwavering as he pressed himself closer to the ground, careful not to let his scent travel in the air.

They weren’t common, but every now and then, hunters would venture into the woods with their heads held high and guns drawn. Most of them came hunting for game, shooting down the occasional deer or elk to bring back to their own families. Clay didn’t have a problem with those hunters, but as for the ones who came in search of wolves?

Clay wasn’t sure he could be so lenient with those ones.

Prowling forward, he kept his haunches low, his tail brushing over the shrubbery as he took step after step toward the strange, new scent. Ever so slowly, he crept closer, his pupils dilated in focus. Suddenly, he stopped, freezing in place.

He could hear footsteps.

Inhaling deeply, he let his eyelids fall shut.

One, two, three...

His eyes shot wide open, and he whipped his head up, only to go stock still as a silhouette came into view.

It was a person, a regular person.

He blinked as he lifted his head, his expression growing neutral as he watched you crouch down to examine a small pile of stones stacked beside a tree, one that he vaguely remembered being made by Tommy and Tubbo when they went exploring a few weeks ago. There was no gun strapped to your body, no pack hanging off your hips as you rose back up to your feet. You didn’t seem to be a threat at all, and from the back, he couldn’t tell if you were even carrying a weapon.

Just then, you turned to the side, and he felt his breath hitch in his throat.

The world suddenly fell away, his surroundings melting into nothing more than a hazy blur as his eyes locked onto your face. His heart came to a screeching halt in his chest.

You were beautiful.

The light framing your lovely face made your cheeks seem all the more lively as you rose. He watched as you brushed your fingers delicately over the bark of a tree, your brilliant eyes meticulously tracing over the curve of every leaf as you walked past. Your feet never lingered in one place for long, constantly moving and skittering across the forest floor like a rippling stream. It was almost as though your every movement cast streaks of dappled sunlight everywhere you stepped, the marvelling spark flickering in your gaze making his head spin with wild abandon.

Clay felt something warm and tight curl against his insides, unmistakably soft and affectionate. It was almost hard to breathe with the way his lungs squeezed and shook behind his ribs. He hadn’t felt this feeling before, but he had heard enough stories to know exactly what it was.

His mate—you were his mate.

There wasn’t any one way to truly describe what a mating bond was, but the most commonly accepted one was that it was a connection that tied people’s souls together, uniting them in perfect harmony. Every werewolf had a mate, and most of the time, they would find their mate in another one of their kind. But right now, as Clay stood in the forest, his gaze glued to the most beautiful human he had ever laid eyes on, he knew that he wasn’t going to find his mate in some other shifter like everyone else had said he would.

Having a human for a mate was rare at best, and unheard of at worst. After all, not every human had a mate, and he had heard stories of shifters being rejected by their human mates. Some of the elders in the camp still refused to believe that having a human mate was even possible, but nearly all of the younger shifters had accepted it—embraced it, even. But never in his pack, at least, had someone learned that their mate was a human.

It looked like he was going to be the first.

For a few long moments, he simply stood there, watching you silently with wide eyes as you slowly made your way deeper down the path. A part of him wanted to chase after you, yearned to walk by your side for as long as his legs would let him. But as soon as he raised his paw, he quickly lowered it again, a pang of guilt shooting through him.

He couldn’t go up to you—not like this, and most certainly not now. He didn’t have nearly enough experience under his belt as an alpha yet, and bringing you to his world could just make everything even worse if he wasn’t careful about it. He swallowed, taking a single step back as you slowly slipped out of view, disappearing into the trees and carrying your lovely scent away with you.

Anxiety gnawed at the inside of his gut, and he couldn’t help but wonder if you would even return. Surely you must live around here to be hiking in these woods—maybe you would hike here again, if not even more often.

He paused, then nodded to himself before whipping around, his tail swishing behind him as he clenched his jaw.

Tomorrow. He would come back tomorrow.

A few feet deeper within the trees, the sound of a stick snapping shattered the forest’s silence.

Along the lightly-treaded path, you whirled, your head pointing toward the sharp sound. Pausing, you raised your head, your gaze darting to the forest canopy above. The sun peaked down at you between swaths of vibrant green, and you squinted, raising a hand to shield your eyes. The trees remained quiet around you, only whispering with the soft rustles of their leaves.

A moment passed in silence. A robin warbled.

You let out a long exhale and shook your head. Turning once more, you stepped over a small crack in the ground, humming as you walked further into the woods.

It was probably nothing.

Sapnap grunted as he dropped the pile of sticks onto the ground, the wood clattering at his feet in a heap. He scowled at the sight, resisting the urge to kick the pile down. He couldn’t believe Wilbur had actually tricked him into doing something as simple as collecting firewood. It wasn’t difficult or anything, but he was the beta, for crying out loud! He could have at least passed the buck to someone like Tommy, that brat.

“Sapnap.”

Sapnap blinked at the familiar voice, turning to find himself standing face to face with Clay. His dirty blond hair was disheveled atop his head, and his cheeks were flushed with heat. A smile tugged on his lips at the sight. “Oh, hey, Clay. Welcome back.” He squinted at the way Clay’s chest heaved, his breaths coming out shaky and uneven. “Um, you good, there? Did you run back here or somethi—”

“It happened,” Clay blurted.

Sapnap blinked, raising a single brow at him. “What happened?”

Clay swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I met my mate.”

Sapnap paused. “Oh. Oh.” A wide grin stretched across his face, and he reached over to clap a hand to Clay’s back. “That’s awesome, man! I’m guessing it happened on your patro—”

“My mate’s human,” Clay said suddenly.

Sapnap paused again. “Oh. Oh.”

Letting out a deep sigh, Clay’s shoulders went slack at his side as he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his scalp. “I, um,” he said, his words coming out in a hazy rush. “I don’t think I’m ready to—” He stopped, feeling Sapnap’s patient gaze rest on him, then opened his mouth, again. “I can’t just reveal our world so soon. I’ve only been alpha for what?” He gestured vaguely. “A month? I’m not experienced enough, yet.” He slumped forward, a hollow, wistful look settling onto his features. “It would be too much for both of us.”

Sapnap nodded thoughtfully, understanding flooding his face. “It’s okay, Clay. Take your time.” He fell silent for a brief moment, then quietly added, “Did you reveal yourself or anything?”

He shook his head. “Not at all. I was too surprised to even move.”

Sapnap’s lips quirked up into a tiny smile. “Then there’s no rush,” he said. “You’re allowed to build up your confidence first, dude. Your confidence as a wolf. As an alpha.” His eyes flashed with soft reassurance. “As a mate.”

Clay raised his head, blinking as Sapnap gently nudged his shoulder with his. “You can do this. Plus,” he added, his tone growing more lighthearted, “I’m your beta. You know I’ve got your back.”

The chuckle that escaped Clay’s lips was low and short, but he could already feel the tension seep out his shoulders like a leaking dam. “Thanks, Sap.”

Taking a step back, Sapnap hummed, offering him a lopsided smile. “Anytime.”

Clay turned on his heel, jerking his head toward the centre of the camp. “Well, I need to organize today’s hunt, but I’ll catch you later. I trust you’ll keep things under control while I’m gone.”

He nodded. “Of course—you know me.” With a short wave and a small grin, Clay began walking off in the opposite direction. “Oh, also,” Sapnap suddenly shouted after him, “don’t forget to grab something to eat before you go hunting today, yeah? I know you missed breakfast.”

Clay didn’t look behind him as he shot a thumbs up at Sapnap from behind his back, but Sapnap could already picture the way he would roll his eyes with a smile. Shaking his head, he turned back to the firewood scattered around his feet, a new glower creeping onto his face.

He was so getting back at Wilbur for this.

Every morning after, Clay dutifully woke up early and strolled deep into the woods, shifted into his wolf form as he scented the air and patrolled the area just as any good alpha would. But time and time again, that one sweet scent never seemed to return, almost as though it had vanished from the forest entirely. At times, he thought he caught the faintest whiff of it, but some further exploration would only reveal a small patch of flowers, never you.

Needless to say, his disappointment was palpable.

It had been a full week now, and Clay was running out of hope. Maybe he was wrong—maybe you wouldn’t ever come back. His heart ached at the thought.

He had been too hasty, wasn’t he?

Hanging his head, he whimpered to himself in the quiet forest, sniffing absentmindedly as he ambled about almost aimlessly. He still had a duty to fulfill, he knew, but he couldn’t ignore the empty feeling burrowing deeper and deeper into his chest.

But right then, just as he paced another few feet forward, he heard it.

A melody.

It was soft, the singing travelling down from the west in a distant murmur, or perhaps a hum. If he hadn’t been paying attention, he surely would have missed it. He didn’t know this song, didn’t recognize it one bit, but he could already tell that it was sweeter than any thrush’s song or any loon’s call. He felt his heart flip in his chest, and just like that, he knew.

In a flash, he was racing across the earth, his paws flying out beneath him in a blur as he ducked under branches and darted past deer, missing the way they startled at his sudden approach. The song was louder now, and he could smell it—smell you.

It was only a few seconds later that he came to a stop, his paws digging into the ground as his heart leapt into his throat.

Soft hair. Bright eyes. A dazzling grin.

You were back.

You had headphones on this time, he realized, and you were humming aloud to yourself, your feet most likely moving in time to the beat of whatever song you were listening to. You were a little off-key and occasionally stumbled over the refrain as it came around, but he found himself entranced nonetheless. Even when you were doing something as simple as humming, you were stunning.

Why come back today of all days? he distantly wondered to himself. What made today so different from any other day?

He wracked his mind as he felt the sun shine down on him gently, warming his back as he crouched down a little. He rarely kept track of the days—that was Sapnap’s job—but he knew that there hadn’t been any special events or holidays going on in the human world. Pressing his ears flat against his head, he scratched his paw at the ground in confusion. Just what made today so special?

That was when the realization slammed into him.

It had been a week since he last saw you.

Once a week—you must hike here once a week.

If he could smile in this form, he already knew that he would have the biggest, stupidest grin plastered to his face. He wanted to leap for joy and howl like there was no tomorrow, but he didn’t want to alert you of his presence just yet. Again, it had only been a week, and he was still far from being a worthy mate for you.

Once a week, he thought once more, his eyes glued to you as you skipped further down the trail and out of his sight. I can wait another week.

The wind sang in his ears as a gentle breeze brushed over his tawny fur, the forest murmuring a silent lullaby into his ear as he whirled back around. As much as he wanted to stay with you forever, he had a patrol to finish and a pack to defend. He let his eyelids flutter shut for the briefest of moments, your face engraved into the rosy crevices of his heart as your humming filled his ears once more.

He couldn’t wait to see you, again.

One week later, you grumbled to yourself as you stomped through the woods, complaining about your new job under your breath. Clay wished he could comfort you, but stayed put with his claws buried in the dirt.

Two weeks later, you watched with wide eyes as a doe and her fawn drank from a nearby stream. He made sure not to hunt those two down in particular later that week.

Three weeks later, you were snapping photo after photo with the camera hanging around your neck, your eyes absolutely brimming with curiosity. He thought you were prettier than any view the forest had to offer.

As one week stumbled into the next, the months began to pass in a blur. Summer collapsed into autumn as the leaves turned gorgeous shades of crimson red and golden orange before tumbling from the sky. Shortly after that, the forest was covered in a blanket of ivory white snow, leaving the branches bare and awaiting the return of spring. The snow soon melted into rain, and puddles littered the forest floor while flowers began to bud and bloom once more. In almost a whirlwind of seasons and waiting, summer rolled around once more, marking the first anniversary of your arrival in Elmwood Ridge.

With each passing season, Clay continued to watch you from afar with a tender gaze. Some days, he would listen to you hum as you trekked along while other times, he would only manage to catch the tiniest of glimpses of you between the trees. No matter how short the instance was, every second he got was well worth the wait, and Clay could feel his affection bloom like a new spring flower. As the trees grew larger, as did his confidence. Time was the best teacher the forest had to offer, and it didn’t take much longer for Clay to grow comfortable with his duty as the alpha of his pack. But despite his newfound strength, he still didn’t feel ready enough to approach you outright, to reveal himself to you as he was. Doubt swirled in his mind like a raging storm, eating away at him like a gnat digging through mud.

He was beginning to fear he may never be ready.

Lifting his head, he sniffed the air, the now familiar scent of his mate drifting across the new summer breeze. You were taking a new path today, he noted in an instant. Perhaps you were doing some exploring.

Padding through the trees, leaves crunched beneath his feet as he leapt over logs and puddles, following after your scent as it grew stronger and stronger. It only took a few moments for him to find you standing atop an elevated rock face, your head lifted as you gazed up at the light scattered between the tree leaves. Your face almost seemed to be glowing in the pale, morning sunshine, your eyes looking like two dewdrops as they curved into tiny crescents. Clay’s heart rattled in his chest, and he resisted the urge to howl to the heavens above.

You were lovely, his mate. If only he could work up the courage to properly tell you.

Basking in the sunlight, he watched as you took a few steps forward closer to the cliff’s edge, your eyes still trained on the sky above. It wasn’t a terribly deep fall, he knew, but the fall was most certainly far enough to hurt someone if they fell at the wrong angle. He narrowed his eyes as you stopped dangerously close to the edge, halting just a few inches from the drop. Surely the stone was strong enough to support your weight, even as old as it was, right?

Apparently not.

Clay saw the cliff crumble before you did.

Terror shot through his body like a bullet as he watched the rock face collapse under your shoes, your feet tumbling out beneath you. Your hands desperately reached for the cliff face, but he could tell from the way your scream cut through the forest’s silence like a sharpened blade that you weren't going to be able to grab it in time.

There was no time for him to think—his body moved first.

In one moment, he was standing with his mouth slack and his emerald eyes blown wide with horror. In the next, he was lunging across the rock face, his jaws wide open as he reached for the lower collar of your shirt. The moment he felt his nose brush against the back of your neck, he snapped his jaws shut, careful not to pierce your skin with his sharp canines as the cloth caught between his teeth. Your weight bounced beneath him once, and the gasp that escaped your lips made his head spin dizzily.

Close—you were so close, and your scent was intoxicating.

You turned your head ever so slightly, and he felt it the moment your eyes locked onto his. You were scared, he could tell, but as you took in the sight of the wolf holding onto you, you almost seemed to relax in his grip. Planting his paws firmly against the rocky earth, he tugged his jaw up and backwards, pulling you away from the cliff face and over even ground. Your hands scrambled to latch onto the cliff edge, helping to pull yourself up until finally, he let go of you, your now torn collar resting against the back of your neck.

Heaving a sigh of relief, you let yourself collapse against the rock face, lying on your back as you gasped for breath. Your chest felt tight like a wound-up spring, and adrenaline pumped through every vein in your body, yet you felt oddly calm. After a minute or two, you slowly pushed yourself forward on your arms until you were just barely slouching forward, looking over your shoulder. A few feet away from you, the wolf stood, his eyes trained intently on your face as you swallowed.

“Um,” you breathed, your eyes desperately scanning him up and down. “Hello?”

He didn’t say anything in return, simply shuffling further away from you. He was giving you space, you realized after a brief moment, and you blinked as you scrambled to sit completely upright. His fur was a soft, golden brown, and you had half the mind to distantly think that you wanted to run your fingers through it. Something about him seemed comforting like that.

“Hi,” you whispered once you were seeing him eye-to-eye. “Ah, um, thank you for saving me.”

Maybe you were just imagining it, but you could have sworn his eyes widened in an almost human-like manner. He didn’t move from his spot a few feet away from you, and you swallowed. You thought you would be more scared than this, more terrified of the beast standing before you. But as you sat there, watching as he blinked at you, you felt as though you were anything but. An unfamiliar yet strangely comforting warmth curled around in the pit of your stomach as you tilted your head at the wolf.

He felt so... safe. So familiar, almost like you had met him before.

“Are—are you a nice wolf?” you asked after another moment, your voice faltering the tiniest bit. “I’d like to think you’re a nice wolf, since you just saved my life.”

Once again, you were greeted by silence, the only indication that he had heard you at all being the way his ears flicked. What am I doing? you suddenly thought, your mind running at a million miles a minute. I’m talking to a wolf—an animal. I’m not a Disney character.

This was weird—or at least it was supposed to be. Yet, as you stared at this wolf who simply stared back at you with these bright, stunning green eyes, you couldn’t help but feel that everything in this moment was just perfect. Like you had been waiting your entire life for this moment to happen.

“You’re really pretty,” you suddenly blurted. In an instant, you were slamming your palm over your mouth, your cheeks flooding with heat. “Oh my god, that was embarrassing,” you murmured, your voice coming out muffled. “I’m sorry.”

Your heart hammered against your ribcage like a caged bird begging to be let out, and ever so slowly, you lowered your hands from your mouth, offering the wolf a shaky, sheepish smile. “Um, thank you, again,” you said gently, honestly. Leaning forward, you pressed your hands against the cool stone to balance yourself, your fingers digging into the rock as you spoke. “I don’t really know how you knew I was there or how you knew I was going to fall, but I really appreciate it.”

The wolf blinked at you once more, then took another step back, subtly dipping his head. Your smile widened at the sight. Pushing yourself upward, you rose to your feet, brushing off the dust from your frontside before standing upright, fidgeting almost nervously.

“I—I,” you stammered, suddenly feeling awkward, “I think I’m going to go home now, but...” You swallowed, raising your hand in a small wave as heat rose in your chest. “...thank you so much, again!”

Before the warmth in your heart could burst, you whipped around, sprinting away as fast as your legs could take you. You didn’t see the way the wolf practically crumbled into a ball on the ground, whimpering to himself as you disappeared out of sight.

Bolting down the hill and past the trees, branches blew past you in a blur as you dashed between the trunks and over patches of wildflowers. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears like a beating drum, and your chest felt oddly light. You couldn’t shake the memory of how intense that wolf’s gaze had been on yours, his eyes swirling with something that made your stomach churn and your mouth go dry.

He really was pretty.

Sapnap yawned as he stretched his arm behind his back and above his head, rolling his neck as the joint popped back into place with a satisfying crack. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept in like this, but he did not regret it one bit. Clay had given him the okay, after all. One late morning wouldn’t hurt anyone.

“Sapnap, you are not going to believe this.”

Sapnap yelped, whipping around with eyes as wide as saucers as he stumbled back a step. The drowsiness left his body in an instant, almost as though he had never been tired to begin with. Clay’s hand shot out to grab his arm, steadying him as he swallowed, relaxing once he realized who he was looking at.

“Holy crap, Clay,” he gasped, pressing a hand to his racing heart, “you scared me! I know you’ve gotten better at this whole stealth thing, but that was just straight up terrifyi—”

Clay’s grip on his arm tightened. “I saved them today,” he whispered.

Sapnap froze, and there was a beat of silence. “You did what, now?”

Just like that, Clay had flung his arms up and around his head, his fingers buried in his hair as he began to pace, his tone frantic and rushed. “There—there was this steeper area with this cliff but it was kind of hidden, and then it was breaking and I just knew something bad was going to happen, and I couldn’t just let that happen, so I moved without thinking and I was pulling them back and—”

A pair of hands suddenly grabbed onto his shoulders, stopping him dead in his tracks. “Breathe,” Sapnap instructed calmly. “You need to breathe, dude.” Clay opened his mouth, but Sapnap spoke before he could. “You are talking so quickly right now, and I can’t understand you when you talk like that.”

Clay closed his mouth, mulling over the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions steamrolling through his head. After a few moments, he finally spoke once more. “I still can’t believe it,” he murmured, suddenly sounding completely and utterly awestruck. “My mate actually stopped and thanked me. And called me pretty.”

Sapnap’s fingers loosened around Clay’s shoulders, a ghost of a smile gracing his lips. “Yeah?”

Clay sighed, sounding absolutely lovestruck. “Yeah.”

Pulling his arms back to cross them over his chest, Sapnap eyed him up and down, cocking his head. “So,” he began gently, “how are you feeling?” When Clay opened his mouth, Sapnap quickly added, “Slowly, please.”

Clay groaned, teasingly rolling his eyes before leaning back on his heels, rocking back and forth as he began to speak. “I only revealed myself as a wolf,” he said softly, “so I don’t know if they know about the mating bond yet. I don’t even know if humans can feel it like we can.”

He tilted his head back, gazing up at the cerulean blue sky. “But there’s something about the way we looked at each other that makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, humans can feel it,” he whispered, sounding breathless all at once. “Call it a gut feeling, I guess. I don’t know.” He cast a glance over at Sapnap, his eyebrows furrowed. “Do I sound crazy?”

A thoughtful look flickered across Sapnap’s face. Then, he grinned. “A little bit, yeah.”

Clay sighed, something he noticed he had been doing a lot more, lately. “I just…” He swallowed. “I just don’t want something like that to happen ever, ever again.”

Suddenly, he fell quiet, his lips parting as the wheels in his head began to turn. Sapnap watched as a tiny spark came to life within his focused gaze, small but oh-so vibrant.

“You got an idea there?” he prompted after a few seconds of silence.

Clay blinked once. Twice. Then, a smile stretched across his face—a smile as bright as the full moon.

“Something like that.”

It was probably a dumb idea for you to return to the forest for your weekly hike as if nothing had happened, but you couldn’t quite quench the curiosity that bubbled up inside you every time you thought about the wolf who had saved you. His gaze had been fiery, yet compassionate, and he had been purposely so gentle when tugging you away from the cliff. You weren't a fool—you knew how powerful a wolf could be. Then why did he treat you so kindly?

You had to find out.

Marching through the brush and shrubbery, you whipped your head this way and that, scanning every strip of forest you could lay your eyes on. Wolves were good at hiding, you knew that. After all, if they weren’t as stealthy as they were, they would never be able to catch a meal. But you had been hiking for almost an hour now, and you still hadn’t seen a single glimpse of the wolf. You couldn’t say you were completely surprised, since it wasn’t like you knew every inch of the forest, but you were frustrated to admit that you were at least a little disappointed. Maybe this was a lost cause.

But then, you heard it.

The sound of a stick snapping.

Freezing, you paused, turning as you glanced to the sides. Nothing out of the ordinary stood among the bushes. You stopped again, then pursed your lips.

No, something was there.

A tender curiosity sparked between your lungs, but it was coated in a thin layer of reluctance. Sucking in a deep breath, you whipped around, squinting at the seemingly empty trees around you as you opened your mouth.

“Wolf?” you called out slowly into the quiet. “Is that you?”

At first, all was quiet, and you held your breath. The leaves rustled around you almost tauntingly, and you distantly heard the caw of a crow. You were just about to give up and go home when a flash of gold caught your eye.

Standing motionless a single yard away was a wolf—your wolf.

A grin stretched across your face, joy surging through your body as you carefully took a few steps forward. Oh, this was definitely a dumb idea, but you was more than brave enough to keep going.

“Hi, there.” You shuffled your feet, a tentative look passing over your face. “You’re, um—” You gulped. “You’re not going to hurt me, are you?”

Clay’s eyes went wide, and he took a step back. No! he thought, hoping you would be able to read his expression, even as a wolf. Never. Not in a million years.

You stared at him for a long moment, blinking slowly as you scanned his face up and down. Then, your lips quirked up into the tiniest of smiles.

“No,” you murmured in the softest of voices, and he felt his heart melt in his chest. “If you were going to do something, you would have done it by now, wouldn’t you?”

Clay nearly sank in relief, and he barked. You raised a brow at the sound, furrowing your brows slightly. “Do you want me to keep you company?” you asked, beginning to walk up to him. “Is that what you’re doing?”

You had only made it a few steps when he suddenly barked again, taking a step toward you. In an instant, you froze, watching with bated breath as he curled around to your other side and gently nudged at your leg with his nose. You shot him a curious glance, stumbling forward the tiniest bit. “Hey,” you said, “what are you...?”

You trailed off, a cut rock face suddenly catching your attention from the corner of your eye. The stony grey wall was nearly perpendicular to the ground and looked almost eerily similar to the one you had nearly fallen down the week prior. Just like that, it clicked.

There was another small cliff right there. He was trying to keep you away from it.

“Oh,” you breathed, your lips splitting into an even wider grin as you made sure to steer away from the short cliff, “you don’t want me falling again, do you?”

He snorted, and you blinked at him. That sounded far more human this time—almost too human. It almost reminded you of a dog, if anything. A triumphant smile slowly crept onto your face, and with your head held high, you turned on your heel, marching onward and away from the rock face.

“Well, wolf,” you said, a teasing arrogance seeping into your tone as you glanced over your shoulder at him, “I promise you that I’ll be much safer this time arou—woah!”

The toe of your shoe caught on a protruding stone, and with a sharp yelp, you stumbled forward, gravity pulling you downward with a harsh pull. With a flail of your arms, you only just barely caught your balance as your hand shot out to grab onto a tree and steady yourself. Your heart flipped in your chest as you planted your feet firmly against the ground, the soles of your shoes pressed flatly against the earth as your fingers curled into the bark. Your chest heaved with surprise as you stood upright, turning to look over your shoulder at the wolf. He blinked at you, and while you knew wolves couldn’t quite smile, something about his gaze almost seemed cocky—like he was laughing at you. Heat crept up your neck and onto your face, your cheeks bursting with warmth.

“Y-You did not see that,” you sputtered, coughing into your sleeve as you brushed off your pants dismissively.

Almost as if to spare you some embarrassment, he turned his head away from you, although you could see his eyes glance your way every few seconds. Pouting, you huffed, whirling on your feet as you continued to trudge down the path. Soon enough, the sound of soft footsteps trailed after you, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sound, knowing that he would follow you even if you weren't looking.

That night, you dreamt of whispering trees and a pair of bright, viridian green eyes.

What had once been a weekly ritual of watching from afar soon turned into an amicable companionship between human and wolf. You weren't afraid as you walked into the woods to see a familiar pair of eyes waiting for you, your eagerness to see him only growing with each passing week. Clay himself could hardly contain his excitement. Actually walking beside you was so much better than simply watching from the woods, hidden by the trees. He loved your company and absolutely basked in your presence, even if you sent his heart into an absolute frenzy.

“Sometimes,” you said aloud one day, “I really do think you can understand me.”

Clay stiffened, praying you wouldn’t notice the way his ears pressed flat against his head as he turned to look at you. You sat on a tree stump while he padded atop the fallen trunk it sat beside, your gleaming gaze slowly blinking at him as he silently circled around you.

“I think it’s got something to do with the way you react to some of the things I say,” you murmured. You watched the way his tail flicked behind him, the soft fur brushing gently against the low-growing plants. A second later, you sighed, waving your hand. “Ah, I’m probably just imagining things.”

Clay nearly heaved a sigh of relief, continuing to pace. You would say surprising things like that every once in a while, and it would send his heart racing. Well, you usually only said one absurd thing per week, so you probably weren’t going to say another thing like that toda—

“Can I pet you?”

His paws came to a halt. Perhaps he thought too soon.

Before he could even properly process what you had said, You were backpedaling, shaking your head with an apologetic look. “Agh, that’s a terrible question. You’re a wolf, not a dog. There’s no way you wou—”

All of a sudden, he was crawling up to you, jutting his forehead toward your hand. His muzzle was clamped shut as his eyes bore into yours, and you gaped at him, the realization beginning to dawn on you.

“Wait,” you breathed in disbelief, “you’re actually going to let me?”

He didn’t move, lowering his eyes to the ground almost shyly as his ears curled toward you. Slowly, you raised your arm with a shaky hand and reached forward, letting your fingers gently brush over his tawny fur with a feather-light touch. You nearly gasped at the feeling, not noticing the way his legs trembled beneath him.

“Wolf,” you whispered after a few seconds, “you’re really soft.”

Clay nearly combusted on the spot. Perfect—everything about you was just perfect.

With your hand buried in his soft fur and the summer breeze ruffling your hair, You smiled, sighing with warmth lighting up your heart as the wolf at your feet melted beneath your touch.

Sapnap tapped his foot impatiently, squinting up at the glaring sun. George slept in, again. He was kind of used to it now, but even though he wasn’t surprised, he wasn’t afraid to admit that he was more than just a little ticked off.

“My mate pet me today.”

Sapnap tensed for a split second, turning to see Clay staring at him with wide eyes. Relaxing once more, he stared at him for a long, long moment before speaking. He really needed to start giving him some sort of heads up at this point.

“Dude,” he said, “I know that the last time you asked me if you sounded crazy, I said a little bit, but I feel like I might have to change my answer.”

Clay shot him a glare, and he couldn’t stop his lips from twitching in amusement. “Sapnap,” he said bluntly, “you act like you don’t talk about Karl and Alex like this.”

Sapnap looked taken aback for a moment, raising a finger, then lowering it with a defeated look. “Touché.”

As Clay walked off with his head held high and a bounce in his step, Sapnap chuckled, watching him leave with a small smile. He recognized the gleam in his eyes, the rosy hue of his cheeks.

Love—Clay really was in love, wasn’t he?

“I’ve been thinking,” you said one day, a few months later.

Clay perked up at the sound of your voice from where he lay at your feet, soaking in the first few rays of sun. It had been well over a year since he had first laid eyes on you now, and a little over a few months since you began walking together. It was only a matter of time until the leaves would turn golden brown once more as autumn descended upon them.

“I dunno,” you murmured, knocking your legs back against the stone you sat on. “I feel like I should give you a name instead of just calling you wolf all the time.” You flashed him a shy grin, your gaze darting this way and that. “It feels kind of awkward, you know?”

He cocked his head. A name? Chances were you probably weren't going to guess his actual name. He supposed he wouldn’t mind a nickname. Then again, he didn’t think he would mind anything that you might do. Lowering himself closer to the ground, he let out a quiet bark of approval.

Your lips twitched the tiniest bit at the sound, and you hummed, drumming your fingers against your thigh. “How do you feel about... Aaron?”

His emerald eyes flashed as he took a step back, ducking his head the slightest bit. Your lips pursed into a small pout, and you leaned down to rest your chin on your hand. “Alright,” you murmured, “not Aaron, then.” You chewed on the inside of your cheek for a second. “Roy?”

Clay didn’t even have to think about it for more than a second before he was whimpering, pressing his head to his paws as he dropped his haunches close to the ground. You snorted at his obvious disapproval, tapping the toes of your shoes together with a pensive look.

“Okay,” you said slowly, drawing out the vowel sound, “maybe we should try some less... human-sounding names.” You tilted your head, letting your gaze trail up the tree trunks and up at the sky above. The sun wasn’t shining directly into your eyes this time, and you blinked with surprise to see a puff of white fluff blocking out the light.  

“What about,” you offered with a hum, “Cloud?”

You glanced down again, only to see the wolf staring back at you blankly. You couldn’t quite read the look in his eyes, but you had a feeling he wasn’t quite satisfied with this one, either. Lowering your chin, you puffed your cheeks, glancing this way and that across the forest around you. You couldn’t just call him something like Leaf, or Sky—those would be too obvious, too plain for a wolf as lovely as him.

Sighing, you let your eyelids flutter shut, letting the sun wash over your cheeks and warming your skin. He was... special, even if you knew you were biased in your opinion. There was some special quality about him, something that made your chest swell and your heart skip a beat, almost as if he came straight out of a—

“Dream,” you whispered at last.

Clay’s ears perked up at the new name, and he lifted his head, flicking his ears at you. Maybe it was the name itself, maybe it was the way you said it, or maybe it was just you, but something about it just felt right. He barked once, lifting his tail as he stepped toward you.

You blinked at the sight, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Dream?” you repeated. “You like the sound of Dream?”

He barked again, leaping up onto his hind legs for a moment. You grinned, giggling at the sight of such a large wolf acting almost like a dog around you. “Alright,” you murmured, reaching your hand out toward him, “Dream it is.”

Leaning closer to you, he sank into your touch as you rubbed your hand over his head, scratching behind his ears as he let out a soft whine from the back of his throat. Your eyes softened, and you curled your knees a little closer to your chest, resting your chin on them.

“It probably doesn’t matter to you since you’re a wolf and all,” you said softly, your voice almost sounding shy in the quiet of the morning, “but my name is [Y/N].”

Clay felt a tender warmth blossom in the cracks beneath his chest, heat unfurling from the depths of his soul as something inside him swelled beyond belief. Your hand continued stroking his fur all the while, not at all noticing the way he pressed his head a little closer into your soothing touch, yearning and longing for more.

“[Y/N],” his heart sang, shooting from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. “[Y/N], [Y/N], [Y/N].”

Had a name ever sounded as beautiful as yours?

Sapnap was going to wring Skeppy’s neck. Skipping out on a morning meeting was one thing, but skipping it to hang out with your mate? Not even he did that.

“[Y/N].”

Sapnap didn’t bother flinching as he turned to see Clay standing in front of him, panting like his life depended on it. This was far from the first time this had happened, and he was sure it most certainly would not be the last. “What?”

Clay shook his head, half-looking like he was about to collapse on the spot. “My mate’s name is [Y/N].”

Sapnap blinked, then his lips curled up into a smile. “Congrats for learning what it is, man,” he said honestly, patting Clay’s shoulder with his free hand. “That’s fantastic, really. You’re making progress.”

Clay swallowed, and he reached up to drag a hand down his face before letting it drop loosely at his side. “Sapnap,” he said slowly, his voice sounding quiet and raw, “I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”

Sapnap’s eyebrows knit together, confusion rippling across his features. “What do you mean?” he asked. “You can’t keep visiting?” Something uncomfortable and cold tugged at the back of his mind. “There’s no way you’re just gonna give up like that, are you?”

Clay’s jaw dropped. “What? No! I mean that...” He paused, squeezing his fist for a moment as he sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t think I can keep showing up in only my wolf form.”

The cogs in Sapnap’s whirred to life as he took in his friend’s clenched jaw. Then, his eyes went wide. “Are you saying...?”

Clay nodded, pursing his lips as he swallowed thickly. “I’m going to reveal who I am.”

His eyes flashed with determination.

“Who I really am.”

You hummed as you twisted the key in the hole, the back door locking shut with a click you had grown used to hearing every week for the past year and a half, now. Whirling around, you could already feel the smile start to spread across your face as you leapt off the porch and ran toward the well-worn path, the forest beckoning you forward with a distant howl. You didn’t remember when exactly your weekly hikes grew to become your favourite part of the week, but you couldn’t imagine life without them, anymore.

Sucking in a deep breath, your chest swelled at the fresh air rushing into your lungs, excitement flickering through your body with every step you took. You couldn’t wait to see Dream again, as strange as it may sound. He had grown to be a greater comfort than you would have ever imagined, even if he was just a wolf. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but you knew your feelings were true—you couldn’t deny the warmth he made you feel.

Whipping around a tree trunk, you felt your heart skip a beat. You already knew Dream would be waiting for you at your rock—the one he had saved you from all those weeks ago. It had become a sort of meeting spot for them, and every week without fail, he would appear there, no matter how early or late you were.

As the shrubbery gave way to a clean, dirt trail, you lifted your head, squinting your eyes. You recognized this part of the forest, and you knew that you were getting closer. Just then, you saw it—the familiar streak of grey stone slanting up from the earth in a small cliff face. Usually, Dream would sit at the cliff base, his ears already pointed toward you. But today, your brows furrowed when you didn’t see a pair of ears facing you, but a head of hair.

Someone else was at your rock.

Slowing your pace to a walk, you paused for a moment, eyeing the figure sitting at your usual meeting spot. It was a man, you realized, and he was facing away from you. He wore a simple white shirt with jeans, and his hair was a shade of dirty blond with streaks of gold. Even if only from the back, it looked almost oddly familiar gleaming underneath the morning sun.

Taking a tentative step forward, you curled your fingers into your palm. “Hello?” you called hesitantly.

The man startled for a moment, then turned toward you, his face coming into view. As his gaze locked onto yours, he opened his mouth and uttered two simple words.

“Hi, [Y/N].”

You felt your breath hitch in your throat.

His voice was soft, gently wrapping around you like a soothing blanket. Your gaze only briefly raked over the comforting smile gracing his lips, instead focusing on the gleam in his eyes that danced with something warm and inviting.

His eyes were green—a shade of green that you had grown to know and adore.

No, you thought, your heart trembling in your chest. He couldn’t possibly be...

You took another step forward, closing the space between them by another few inches. With your eyebrows knitting together, your voice dropped to a small, curious whisper. “Dream?”

He shot you a crooked grin, chuckling softly. “That’s my name—or at least the one you gave me.” Leaning forward, he rose to his feet, the sun casting a bright streak of light across his cheeks. “My real name is Clay.”

All of a sudden, you felt as though all the air had been sucked out of your lungs. “Clay,” you repeated, your mind slowly growing murky with confusion, “but you’re also Dream. How...?”

A sheepish look skittered across his face, and he ducked his head. The way he lowered his chin was familiar, looking almost far too like a certain wolf you knew. “I—I guess you could say I live in two worlds with two forms,” he began. “Sometimes I’m a wolf, sometimes I’m a human.” He shrugged nonchalantly, but you didn’t miss the way his shoulders remained tense. “You already know one of them, but I didn’t want to keep hiding this form from you, so...” He gestured to himself with a bashful look. “...here I am.”

You blinked at him slowly, the muddled fog in your head slowly giving way to a strikingly warm clarity. But before the clouds could fully part, your lips began to move.

“You’re still pretty,” you blurted, your eyes going wide as soon as the words left your mouth.

In a flash, Clay’s cheeks flushed crimson, a haze of rosy pink dusting his freckles. “H-Huh?”

Waving your hands in front of you, you took a step back, embarrassment shooting up your spine. “I-I mean to say that you’re still pretty as a human! Because you’re pretty in both of your forms!” You stiffened, exasperation soaking your features as your knees buckled. “Wait, no, oh no, that’s also embarrassing... wait, please, um—”

Suddenly, he began to laugh. You fell quiet as you watched Clay clutch at his stomach, his lips split into a wide grin as peals of laughter tumbled from his lips. A familiar pit of warmth flared up in your stomach, one you had felt standing here with Dream so many times before.

He really was Dream, wasn’t he?

As his chuckles finally died down into silence, he stood upright once more, wiping a barely there tear from his eye. “I’m sorry for laughing,” he managed with an apologetic smile. “You must be confused about, well, everything.”

You offered him an honest, lopsided grin. “A little.”

His smile slowly melted from his features, and he cleared his throat as he turned to face you head-on. “Well, this is probably going to sound weird, but you and I...” He swallowed, his gaze flashing. “We’re mates.”

You blinked, your lips parting in surprise. Something in your chest slowly expanded. “Mates?” you repeated softly.

He nodded, his expression firm yet hesitant. “Yes, mates. It means that in one way or another, our souls are connected.” Inhaling deeply, he screwed his eyes shut before continuing. “It’s a lot to take in, I know, but I just want you to know that you don’t have to accept the mating bond.” His voice was trembling now, growing quieter by the second as he squeezed his hands into fists at his side. “You don’t owe me anything. I know this must be scary for you, and the last thing I want is for you to feel pressured because of m—”

“I’m not afraid.”

Clay’s eyes shot wide open, and he raised his head, shock etched into his features. “You aren’t?” he whispered.

The smile on your face was open and kind, and you shook your head. “No,” you murmured, sincerity lacing your every word. “Not at all. Dream, Clay... no matter what your name is, you’re still you, and I know you.” You took another step forward, your eyes never leaving his. There was hardly any space between them now, and Clay could feel his shoulders begin to shake with the sheer gravity of the moment. “I can’t explain it, but I just know I do.”

He swallowed, a whirlwind of anxiety and affection brewing just beneath the surface of his skin. “You don’t have to do this,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I know I’m just a stranger to you.”

You shook your head, again. “You’re not,” you said quietly. “Not to me.”

Before he could even register what was happening, you were reaching for his hand, clasping your palms around his fingers and holding them gently. His heart flipped in his chest at the feeling of your skin against his, and something stung at the back of his eyes.

You were so warm.

“I want to do this,” you whispered, just for him to hear and him alone, “I promise. I—” You gulped, your gaze remaining steady. “I might not know anything about your world yet, but I want to learn.”

You squeezed his hand. “I want to learn more about you.”

Clay sucked in a ragged breath. With shaky fingers and a gentle touch, he pressed his other hand to the back of yours, squeezing back ever so slightly. “I want to learn more about you, too.”

The smile you flashed him easily outshone the sun and every star that scattered across the night sky, and for a moment, he thought his heart had stopped in his chest.

“I’m glad,” you said, your eyes gleaming with delight. “I think we’ll have plenty of time to do that on our hike.”

Right then, a breeze came drifting past, the distant scent of rain filling the air. The trees murmured with rustling leaves and flapping wings as two birds landed on a hanging branch above, gazing down at the two silhouettes standing at the base of the rock face. Just for a moment, or maybe even two, the entire forest went still.

And unbeknownst to you and Clay, right between your feet, a flower began to bloom.

#commission #mcyt x reader #dream smp x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #dream x reader #dream team x reader #mcyt scenario #mcyt fluff #mcyt x you #mcyt x y/n #mcyt fanfic #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt imagines #mcyt imagine #dream smp x you #dream smp x y/n #dreamwastaken x you #dreamwastaken imagine #dreamwastaken scenario #dreamwastaken fanfic #dreamwastaken fluff #dream team x you #dream team x y/n #dsmp x reader #dsmp x y/n #dsmp x you #dream x you #dream imagines #dream imagine #dream fanfic

[volot]

headcanon: relationships.

or: L to whoever shacked up with him to continue his unfortunate legacy, i sincerely hope it was worth the rest of this.

or, again: no, you can’t fix him. not for some of this, anyway.

well since there’s ship talk on the dash... i suppose now’s a good as time as any to elaborate on why in a much, much earlier post on my blog, i jokingly said you don’t want to date volo. his valentine only cemented what my thoughts were before, unfortunately. and that is to say that volo is uh... for a lack of a better term, a very intense individual ( like normally, yeah this remains true but... even moreso here ) and a little unhealthy as far as pickings go.

let me.... jump into it................

volo is not someone you want to date unless you’re prepared to deal with baggage. full stop. 

now outwardly, volo is a very charismatic man. he knows how to talk the talk and walk the walk. he’s good at sweet nothings, buttering someone up, wrapping them up in silk. he’s got a tongue as silver as his eyes, and he can make you feel golden. while the popular fandom interpretation is that volo is a notorious flirt, i don’t necessarily agree with this. i do agree that he is someone who is both naturally a little flirtatious at times without meaning to be so, while simultaneously being someone who knows that if it will beget him something that he wants, then he knows how to flirt to manipulate someone. if he can figure out what it is you want to hear, he’ll tell you it. he’ll praise you, he’ll peel away your layers with finely picked words of choice, he’ll make you putty in his hands.

that being said, he’s the farthest thing from someone interested in relationships normally.

“but lucian,” you say, “isn’t volo a terribly lonely person?” and i’d tell you well yeah, of course he is. but it’s that emptiness, that vast loneliness, that makes him indifferent to the idea of romantic entanglements; or maybe the proper word is he’s afraid of them. he wouldn’t admit to it, no, but his issues with rejection and abandonment run deep -- he reacts very badly to being both rejected by arceus, and then later being abandoned by giratina as well. he lashes out, he holds onto that grudge like an oath, and whenever the wounds are touched again, he digs himself into an even deeper ditch. if he can’t handle being rejected by god too well, he doesn’t handle the thought of being abandoned by a romantic partner well, either. it’d be scored to another misfortune in his life, another cruelty of the fates and the god who rules above them, another mark for how unfair this world is. his trust issues are rampant, and you have to prove that you can earn his.

flings of any kind aren’t for him. they do nothing to help his emotional wounds, and would only worsen his state; the temporary state of them, how tangible they are, would only leave him even more bitter.

but if he is interested in you? then congratulations, it’s a difficult feat to manage. he becomes curious about people; he’s always been drawn to people who make him have to stop and think, stop and question, scratch at a specific spot in his brain. most are fleeting, but in the case it’s not, then you’ll occupy his mind more than he likes. it’s difficult to shake, the more questions about you that are raised. his valentine is pretty telling on this front:

“Well, that’s one thing to get my blood pumping. You persist to keep me intrigued… Now, how am I supposed to keep my curiosity under control!“

like... i don’t know about you, but this isn’t something someone normal says. it’s weird. it’s intense. it’s very heavy-handed, for how breezily he words it. he becomes obsessive, to put it plainly. he tries to restrain himself, but he can’t. his heart races too fast, and his blood runs too hot for rationale. he throws himself completely into it, consumingly so; like i said, he doesn’t do anything worthwhile in halves.

which, if that’s your cup of tea, then good for you? he’s nothing if not devoted, that much is clear by how heavily he devoted himself to arceus. he’ll worship you, so long as you worship him. he won’t abandon you if you won’t abandon him. he’ll devote himself thoroughly to you if you devote yourself to him in the same way. you’ll be at the center of his thoughts -- or at least take up a pretty big space in it, if you’ve got his interest enough. 

this does lead to jealousy though, considering envy is something that manifests in his character, but that seems to be par for the course with the rest of this. while jealousy is a completely rational and understandable feeling to feel, his tends to skew towards irrationality and again, being intense. he gets cagey, defensive, and locks up at again, the idea of something being taken from him again, of him being abandoned again. if he gives himself to you, he expects you to do the same. you can fix.. this part of him, probably, by assuring him that no, you aren’t going anywhere...?

in terms of going places, his curiosity will still be very high in priorities to him. he will continue being a vagabond, and having him settle in one place for long is a little difficult. the ruins and the whims of the world call to him; either you come along with, or he’ll be back in... a day, or two, or just about. but he’ll be excited to see you, and spinning stories a mile a minute, so you have that to look forward to; because he’ll always come back to you. 

that doesn’t mean you come before his ambition and his desires, though.

he’s an extremely driven person, and he’s been sold on his goal for a long time now: someone good coming into his life isn’t means to change that. it’s a stroke of luck, of good fortune, of a blessing -- but if there is someone dear to him, then why allow them to exist in a world as wrong as this? why must they be under the mercy under a god who is cruel, who does not listen? if god has abandoned its creations, and even its most devoted, how can he assure that you won’t be abandoned, too? it’s more fuel to the fire. more reason to recreate the world into one that can be better, that can be free of suffering and pain and tragedy, so you can be free of that. 

you can’t change the direction of his iron will and his mountains of ambitions; for a man who seeks to become god, prayers like those will fall to hypocritically deaf ears. but you can at least be assured he’ll have a place for you in the new world.

#i feel like i'm going to get publicly executed for posting this im sorry #help me god for the lvoe of god HELLO #god do i have to tag this #obsessive behavior tw #unhealthy relationships tw #<- ?! just to be safe? #pla spoilers #hc. #ooc.

[hesgunnalovethis]

Act of Guilt

Summary: Your actions planetside begin to interfere with your daily life and Leonard McCoy, struggling to see you this way, wants to help.

TW: Teen rating for mature themes, we’re talking through some sleep paralysis, we’re having bad dreams, we're absolutely full of angst but we end on a high besties <33

This one goes out to all my homies that are overworked and underappreciated :’) whether it be school, college, uni, careers or general life; you are seen, you are valid and I think you’re doing a great job and so does our homeboy Leonard McCoy.

Masterlist!

Word Count: 1855

You were used to waking up against the frigid grey of the Enterprise. Even as a high ranking officer you were each assigned the same internal quarters, uniform in presentation. Glutted, you often heard a little more than you wanted to on either side of your walls. You feared that perhaps they heard a little too much as well.

You were used to waking up with frozen limbs. With the same familiar feeling washing over your head before rushing down to tighten your chest. The same reluctance to open your eyes to reveal whichever heinous scene your subconscious displayed within your familiar raw walls.

Every night played out the same: the face of someone you loved in front of your pointed phaser switched to kill, heaved awake by the thud of their lifeless body, held a frozen prisoner forced to endure whichever fear felt most prominent that morning.

Recently you couldn’t even bring yourself to near the bed. You’d return from shifts to sit on the bitter floor and recount the enemies you’d killed in the name of Starfleet. You’d think of their lives, their loved ones, their dreams.

You were brought to Starfleet to be a doctor; now it seems they’d have you do anything but.

It was Thursday. You made your way to the medbay to be briefed on the rota for this week. You weaved in and out of a sea of uniforms who stalked towards their own respective bases for their own respective rotas.

Your week often looked the same - another sense of routine you couldn’t seem to escape - five days with the ground team, one shift in the medbay, one day off. Your medbay shift was always the same too. Sunday shift: the biggest influx of causalities, highs of inpatients with the longest turnover time, most surgeries performed and somehow always understaffed.

Moving towards your, makeshift, office you picked up your PADD and looked for the rota that Leonard always sent to you prior to the briefing. Seven days of ground work. You almost doubled over from the thought of it. Your entire body felt hot as you took deep breath convincing bodily fluids to stay put.

With frantic pace you arrived at Leonard’s, very much real, office and found him turned away finishing his notes for the day.

You dropped the PADD in front of him with force, “Explain.”

“You know that if I had it my way you’d be here seven days a week.” Leonard spoke as if rehearsed, he’d obviously anticipated your visit.

“You have jurisdiction here, Leonard. Surely there’s something you can do? Something you haven’t tried?” You scrambled out as Leonard put his pen down and held his head in his hands.

“I’ve tried everything darlin’. You don’t know how important it is to me that you’re here.” Your mind flicked through your conversations in the medbay that went on a little too long as you stood a little too close. Stolen moments through the day you’d fill with genuine laughter and escapism. The fresh flowers that would appear in your crooked office that he’d never let you thank him for. You remembered the shifts where Leonard would let you take the lead while he caught up on sleep on his couch. The days you’d both stay behind and drink away the sourness until you met the sweetness of his lips on yours. “I’ve tried everything.”

“Tell them we’re understaffed. Tell them I’m indispensable. Tell them-” Your voice broke. Leonard head lifted at the sound revealing a deep hole in his cheek unmistakably driven in by a phaser shot.

You gasped, stumbling back through his office tripping over the coffee table centre piece of the room. Leonard moved towards you. Unable to take your eyes off the hole in his face as your hands dripped with blood and guilt you expelled your body weight willing the pull door to push open. Leonard’s hands levelled either side of the door frame his face close to yours. Ears muffled and knees giving way you pressed your eyes shut concealing the scene.

“Y/N?” Leonard asked after a few moments of stillness before lifting one of your eyelids shining his torch in each eye. As you readjusted to the light you saw Leonard’s face again, clean of everything but concern. You glanced round the room to find the coffee table the only thing out of place and your hands sweating but clean. You reached for Leonard pulling him in towards you. His hands swept round your back and he pressed a kiss into your temple.

“What” he asked, “the hell was that?”

“Felt like my dream.” You said performing exercises to convince Leonard you did not have a head injury without him asking.

“And you often have dreams of murderous me?” Leonard dissolved, guiding you towards the seats in the middle of the room, straightening the coffee table.

“No. I often have dreams of murderous me.”

Curious and cautious Leonard sat opposite you and reached for your hand. He pulled back sharply at first “You’re iced.” He clasped both your hands in his and puffed a long warm breath between them. Slowly your anxiety began to melt. The breath was real. The warmth was real.

“Every night I have a dream, eerily like an away mission, only the faces are swapped and I know who I’m killing. And then, I wake up and watch them die on my floor and my body screams at me to wake up and help them but I’m frozen. I can’t move.”

“Sleep paralysis?” Leonard asked still rubbing your hands between his own.

“That would be my guess. Every morning. Some nights I can’t face it.”

“What do you do those nights?”

“I stay up. Sit on the ground and think about all the lives I’ve taken in a job where I’m supposed to save them.” You stood up and walked towards the window in Leonard’s office, poking open the blinds to view the busy medbay. You sighed at the internal architecture of the ship. “It’s like I’m not real. I exist within grey walls or as a killing machine.” You slumped back down in the chair.

Leonard leaned forward slipping his hand round the back of your neck, scratching the base of your hair line. He held eye contact with you and sincerely stated, “You’re quite dramatic.”

“Week after week, Leonard. Every time I shut my eyes I see you or Jim or- or Chekov lifeless because of me! Makes you think of what those lives I’ve ended meant to someone else.” You stood up again walking towards the blinds, poking them open slightly hoping to see a different landscape. “And why does this ship have no exterior windows! Would it kill them to let me see the stars? Remind me where I came from.” Spitting the end vehemently towards Starfleet architects.

“Why don’t you come and stay with me for a while?” Leonard placed a hand on your shoulder, his other hand working the blinds out of your fingers before you broke them. “A change of scenery might do some good.”

“Aren’t you going to tell me I need to work through my guilt and reconceptualise my relationship with my job?”

“You’re a damn fine doctor Y/N. You don’t need me to tell you that, you just need a clear head to realise it for yourself.”

Leonard led you out of the medbay shouting a mere, “I’m a doctor, not a motivational speaker damnit.” In place of his weekly briefing.

Together you walked the length of the ship. Leonard asked you more about your dreams presenting it as conversational but you could see the medical cogs in his brain turning. “You’ve never had psychological training?” Leonard asked at one point with a startled stopping of his feet.

“Psychological training? What med school did you go to?” Scoffing at his faith in The Academy.

“Not med school, but I did a fair whack before I joined Jim’s ground team. You’ve never had- my god! No wonder you’re wracked with guilt darlin’ that is- that is- how did you ever end up planetside?”

“I don’t know I’m just pretty handy with a phaser I guess.” You said as you arrived at a door with the letters C.M.O emblazed on the front. “Nice door. How come I’ve never been here?”

Leonard shrugged “ ‘s not my fault you prefer the desk.” He stated opening the door to his double sized room.

Smooth navy covered the walls, beautifully contrasting the deep wooden furniture and shelves of brown bottles. Surrounded by whiffs of comforting warm fires and cheap rum you watched as Leonard ordered on the lights and followed him through to the next room. There was no doubt that Leonard lived a full life back home. His living space was full of southern knick-knacks and photographs of people you’d never known. There was a small collection of silver neck chains on show, thoroughly worn although never while on shift and nine or ten small stacks of crime novels strewn across the floor.

“This might cheer you up sweetheart.” Leonard tossed his PADD onto his cracked brown leather couch and made his way to the back wall which was entirely concealed by a deep purple curtain. Taking a bundle of the thick fabric in his hands, he eyed you before trudging it across the room revealing a vast ceiling to floor window. You caught your reflection in the glass and clapped your mouth shut looking to Leonard in shock.

“Bit of a sick joke for an aviophobiac.” Leonard physically shuddered at the open black, “But if it makes you happy it’s worth it.”

Bounding over the top of Leonards sofa to get a better look, you gazed out over the space you’d called home for past three years. Something about the infinite expanse always grounded you. The lack of endings and the billions of possibilities that presented made all of your worries and problems seem positively insignificant. It left you searing with luck to be living regardless. You moved even closer letting your breath fog up the glass. Leonard moved behind you hugging you round the middle and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Look at it Leonard. Isn’t it just-”

“Horrifying?”

“Do you really look at that and feel nothing?” You were aghast at the thought.

Leonard sighed “I appreciate the sentiment of it.” He concluded. “It reminds me of a Jorge Luis Borges quote.”

“I didn’t realise you were so well read.” You both shared another moment of genuine laughter, “What’s the quote?”

“He says, ‘I’m not sure I exist, actually. I am all the writers that I have read, all the people I have met, all the women that I have loved;” He squeezed your arm as he spoke “All the cities I have visited.’ Reminds me of you actually. All the lives you’ve saved in the medbay and planeside. You leave a part of you everywhere you go; that’s what I think is beautiful, doll.”

You turned to him. He held your gaze firmly and you knew he meant the words he’d spoken. You rested your head against his chest silently thanking him for his kindness, you knew he’d never let you say it out loud. This wasn’t your home, but Leonard smelled of home for we all leave a part of ourselves in those we love.

Together you turned the couch to face the window and under Leonard’s duvet slept a full night of dreamless sleep woken only by a PADD dropped on your chest with the same force you’d dropped at Leonard yesterday.

“Five days in the medbay.” He gestured towards the open rota displayed on the screen, “Two days off. Including Sunday.”

#leonard mccoy imagines #bones imagines #leonard mccoy x reader #bones x reader #mccoy x reader #mccoy imagines #dr mccoy x reader #bones star trek #star trek fanfiction #star trek imagines #star trek fic #doctor mccoy #doctor mccoy x reader

[abyssal-memories-and-dreams]

Hello darling💖 May I request hcs for Azul, Rook, Leona and Malleus where their female s/o proposes to them - romantic setting with a fancy ring and all? What would their reactions be?

Hi, Luv! Sorry about the wait, but I hope you enjoy these headcanons! Just to clarify, all these headcanons will take place after their time in NRC so that all the characters are of legal age.

~The Boys’ Fem!S/O Proposes to Them (ft. Azul, Rook, Leona, and Malleus)~

~Azul Ashengrotto!~

Azul may not say this out loud, but he is very much grateful to have you in his life. Ever since you two met at Night Raven College, his whole world has brightened. And given his past, you’re one of the only people he’s opened up to aside from Jade and Floyd.

After you both graduate, you open up your own restaurant alongside the coast. It wasn’t difficult considering the revenue Azul obtained at the Monstro Loung, and the two of you successfully run it together. The restaurant is Mediterranean-themed with a hint of Athenian architecture, and the large windows can perfectly capture the sun setting on the ocean’s blue waves when the time comes.

You two just so happen to be walking down the beach as the sun began to set, your feet crunching upon the pale sand as your fingers interlocked with his. The moon was rising out of the other side of the world as the skies turned a variety of pinks, oranges, and reds. Truly a wonderful way to spend the day after long hours of work...

You suddenly stop in your track, removing your hand from Azul’s. He looks back, wondering why you stopped. With your hands behind your back and your eyes averting his gaze, Azul grows increasingly worried by this situation. Why were you not talking to him? Did he do anything wrong?

It wasn’t until you got down on one knee and pulled out a small, black, velvet box that you finally spoke to him, telling him how important he was to you, and how he’s made your life so much better. You reiterate your love to him, and with a simple question, you ask if he would like to spend the rest of his life with you.

With that question, you pulled the box open to reveal a ring lying in the cushions. The band is stainless silver with a sapphire gemstone in the center, surrounded by small, silver seashell engravings.

At first, Azul stood there, dead silent. It takes him a while before he responds to your answer, and even then he doesn’t utter a word until he already has his arms wrapped around you in a hug. He whispers in your ear how much he feels the same, and how he would love to be your husband till the end of your days as you slipped the ring onto his finger, ending the evening with a kiss as the moon rose above you to the night sky.

Were Floyd and Jade watching this entire scene unfold? Maybe. Don’t worry, though, Jade made sure Floyd didn’t ruin the moment for you two...

~Rook Hunt!~

Your relationship with Rook has been an interesting one, to say the least. Rook isn’t known to be quiet about his love for anything beautiful, and he is not afraid to openly express his love for you, even in the middle of the school hallway. Even if he gets a few weird stares from his actions, his words and actions of affection and love will always remain true for you.

When it’s time to actually propose to him, you’re actually not sure if you can pull it off as a surprise. As much as his antics may seem random, Rook is far from idiotic and is a very cunning man, so despite your attempts to be the proposer, just know there is a slight chance that he’ll do it first.

So let’s paint the setting for this proposal: It’s years after your time in Night Raven, and you and Rook have moved into a cottage within the Land of Pyroxene, right next to a small forest for him to hunt from time to time. One day, you ask him to close his eyes as he followed you into the woods. When you told him to reopen it, Rook is greeted with a small picnic setup, the checkered blanket illuminated by the bright sun.

As you two have your picnic, you get very wary of having Rook do anything during your lunch date. Specifically, you’d always get something from the picnic basket, and wouldn’t let him touch it for some reason. He’s curious about your behavior but doesn’t question it, even when you tell him to turn around to look at a nearby tree for another moment.

Before you ask him to turn back to face you, you mention how your love has never faltered for him years after you two started your relationship back in high school. You thank him for all the love he’s given you, and subtly mention how you don’t want your relationship to end.

As you grab Rook’s hand, you ask him to turn back to face you. When he does, he’s greeted by an immaculate ring that you brought in the picnic basket. The ring is a golden, nature-styled ring with vines and small diamonds cut into leaves. At the center of the ring lays a shining emerald.

Rook, filled to the brim with joy, does not hesitate to take you in his arms and brings his lips to yours in a passionate kiss, making you nearly lose the ring in the grass below. He’s in utter bliss with the thought that he can be your husband - and to have you be his love, his amour - as he picks up the ring and places it on his ring finger. As he finishes the kiss, he vows to be an amazing husband as you lay together on the blanket underneath the sun. As much as he wants to go to all his friends and spread the word, he’ll be glad to do that later just to savor this moment.

~Leona Kingscholar!~

Leona does have doubts regarding any marital aspect of your relationship. Due to his upbringing as the second child, he doesn’t see his marriage as valuable to his family. Specifically, he doesn’t think his family is gonna make a big deal out of it compared to when his brother got married and had Cheka. He’s not opposed to marriage overall, but he absolutely loathes the idea that he might get compared to his brother again.

However, you’re determined to break through that troublesome mindset and show how much your love for him means to you. So one day, you arrange a date outside his home in the Afterglow Savannah. You don’t tell him where, exactly, but assure him that he’d love it.

When you arrive at your destination, he’s the first to walk into the amazing scenery in front of him. In the time spent looking at vast grasslands of the Savannah, Leona’s jaw nearly drops at an oasis in front of him, watching as numerous birds fly across the body of water as it's surrounded by endless, vibrant greenery.

You lead him into an area along the waters filled to the brim with small fish that swam without a thought in the world, shaded underneath a large tree in which you rested upon. Seeing this setting kind of reminded you of the times he’d sneak off to sleep in Night Raven’s gardens during classtime all those years ago.

And now that you had this oasis to yourself, you plan to bring out the best of this situation. Your carefully bring in Leona closer to you, making him rest on the tree beside you. Your enclose you hands around his own, embracing the warmth of them before giving a small kiss on his cheek. You express how grateful you are to have him in his life, and how you haven’t stopped loving him since your high school years. Most of all, despite all his doubts and his self-loathing for not being the firstborn son, you’ll proudly call him your king if it means that you can stay by his side.

With that, you let go of his hands before pulling a luminous ring from your pocket and placing it on his finger. The ring looks simple enough, but upon closer inspection is textured with braid-like engravings of gold, silver, and bronze.

Leona sits there shocked as he gazes down at the ring, not sure what to say next. After a while though, you finally get an answer. He smirks down at you, joking about how this should’ve been the one time he shouldn’t have slacked off on his duties. Albeit, he is a bit begrudged by how you got to propose to him first, but doesn’t let it get to him as he pulls you in for a kiss. He intertwines his ringed hand with yours as he comes to accept that you will become his wife one day.

~Malleus Draconia!~

In comparison to the rest of the bachelors, Malleus is definitely the most complicated man to propose to. Not because he’s opposed to the idea of you two being together - far from it, seeing as though you were one of the only people to even so much as approach him without fear.

The problem stems from the roles you pose after you graduate from NRC. Being the next King of the Valley of Thorns, Malleus is swamped with responsibilities as soon as you both graduate. He brings you back to his homeland to live with him in his castle, but you tend to stick out like a sore thumb among the fae crowd.

So for this plan to work, you figured that the best option to propose to him would be at around nighttime. One day, you woke up extra early so Malleus wouldn’t come to fetch you to accompany him for his duties. When he enters your room, he reads a note you left behind on your bed explaining you went to the market and wouldn’t be back until night. You ask that he would make time to meet you on the castle’s rooftop by then, but don’t mention why. 

He’s confused on why you left so abruptly, but doesn’t really put that much concern over your well-being - he knows that he can easily find  and protect you if things go wrong. So the day passes by, and you’re nowhere to be found, leaving him to his lonesome. Finally nighttime arrives, and he makes way to the rooftop like you ask.

Malleus immediately notices you standing next to a gargoyle - a reminder of him and his adoration for the architecture - as you gazed at the rest of the kingdom. You turn around to face him, apologizing to him for such a lonesome day, and that you wanted to talk to him just by himself. You explain how you’ve been considering major changes in your life, and how you’ve been wanting to be by his side more and more, reminiscing on the time at NRC that you’d never forget.

As you say this, you pull out a ring for him. The band is dark, almost coal-colored, yet shines just as luminously as the amethyst and diamonds that decor the top like a flower with its petals scattered. You look at him with an anxious look on your face, asking him that important question - to let you be his wife, and for him to be your husband.

Malleus is confused by this sudden proposal, since this custom isn’t necessarily normal for fae. However, once again charmed by your actions, he sees no reason to say no. He walks over to you and leans down for a kiss, taking your ring and placing it on your own finger. When he finished the kiss, he holds your hand gently in his, affirming that you would make a great queen for his kingdom. Will this end up causing a ruckus from some of his subjects? Maybe. Does he care? Not in the slightest.

#disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland malleus #twst headcanons #twst #twst x reader #malleus x reader #twst malleus #malleus draconia #leona x reader #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #twisted wonderland leona #rook Hunt #twisted wonderland rook #Azul Ashengrotto #azul

[madhyanas]

a place at the table

Pairing: Din Djarin x gender-neutral!Reader

Rating: T/PG-13 [mild]

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Spoilers for s2ep3, Chapter 11! Reader uses they/them pronouns. References to drowning, not explicit. Descriptions of freezing/extreme cold. One reference to Chapter 9 (s2ep1). Din being as self-sacrificing as always. Din’s particular brand of Mandalorian family values. Pining, yearning, affection - just think soft.

A/N: well then. first time posting for din! this has been cooking since ep3 came out, i’m just slow. it’s soft!! and worried!! and din severely procrastinating his own identity crisis!! they’re really fuckin married, guys. lovely stuff. also, if you can’t tell, i adore frog lady. and bo-katan. mwah.

BIG thank you to @justrunamok​, @pettyprocrastination​ and @generaldamneron​ for beta-reading <33

gif credit: @captrex​ - from the post here. thanks!

masterlist

You thought you knew cold.

Days and nights in the Crest have acquainted you with it. A hollow metal hull in the depths of the galaxy, surrounded on all sides by a vast expanse of nothing. Keeping the heater on burns fuel that you can’t afford, not with three mouths to feed. Space is cold, as cold as it could get.

And then you nearly drowned.

The briny depths of Trask are frigid, you’ve come to realise. Logically, you know it’s nowhere near the freezing vacuum of space. That’s real cold; true, absolute zero. But the thing about water is that it gets everywhere. The searing, ferocious chill of it had slammed all mental processes to a halt, petrifying your rationality before all else. It drenched your clothes, your hair. Snaked into your nose and seeped into your lungs. Rushed you as a swarm; no other sensation was relevant.

At the time — scrabbling at a grate hanging overhead, right there but always just out of reach — it’s what you imagined carbonite to feel like. Conscious but consumed.

Space is cold from a distance. Water freezes from the inside, cracked and jagged and burning.

So you should be grateful for your saviours. Mandalorians, unlike any you’ve ever seen before.

Which is to say, unlike Din.

There’s a lot to think about. So many things have happened in the span of a day that you can barely keep track. And beyond all else, you want to ask how Din’s coping—

“Trask is a black market port. They’re staging weapons that have been bought and sold with the plunders of our planet. We’re seizing those weapons and using them to retake our homeworld.”

—but there are more important things to deal with at the moment.

“Once we’ve done that, we’ll seat a new Mandalore on the throne,” the red-headed woman explains.

Bo-Katan. She speaks regally, like she’s been on that very throne before. More importantly — like she’d earned it. In truth, she scares you. All three of them do, these new Mandalorians who show their faces — they scare you in the way Din did back when he was just a gruff, faceless employer. A tinge of instinct; a shiver down your spine that has nothing to do with the cold.

What she’s saying is important, you know that, and you can’t place the onus on Din to handle it after the day he’s had. But you can’t bring yourself to focus either. You’re barely holding it together as it is, taking mild, balmy comfort in his and the baby’s presence on either side.

The three of you, together. Right now, at this table, that’s the only thing keeping you from splintering right down the middle.

Even with a steaming bowl of broth in your hands, your fingers ache with the chill. It hurts, regaining body heat. Hurts as feeling returns to your toes. Hurts to clench your jaw, to stop it from chattering. Hurts the delicate skin of your face, thousands of icy needles jabbing into the nerves. There’s a pounding between your ears and behind your eyes. You’re tired, and you suspect Din is, too.

You really do want to ask how he’s dealing with…this. The Way has been part of his life — and part of yours, in as much of a lifetime as you’ve known him — for many, many years. An oak tree, offering security and strength to the garden. How must he feel, stoic at your side, to see these three fell theirs so easily?

An identity crisis is the last thing Din needs.

What he needs is a break. You need him to want a break.

A coo at your elbow catches your attention. The baby — safe and warm, thank the Maker — seems fascinated with the water dripping from your hair, patting his hands into the small puddles forming on his high chair and giggling at the splashes. It’s as if he was never swallowed whole in the first place; that’s another thing you’re going to recall decidedly later. Nonetheless, he bounces back fast, your child.

You smile, hearing your teeth click, and pet the sensitive spot between his ears. He blinks at you sweetly.

Someone clears their throat.

You look up, startled, to find three pairs of eyes on you. Expecting. None of them saying… anything.

The other woman, the one with braids on her forehead, slurps her slithering noodles without blinking. Unnerving, to say the least.

“Sorry,” you blurt, more on reflex than anything else. “Did I… miss something?” The uncertainty in your voice doesn’t escape anyone’s notice.

Beneath the table, a broad thighs shifts to press against yours. Comforting. You glance at its owner.

“It’s… Mandalorian business.” Bo-Katan tilts her head. Her gaze flits between you and Din, polite and clear. “I’m sure you understand.”

You blink, bemused. “Oh?”

And then you realise.

She’s asking you to leave.

“Oh!” Your brows shoot up. One of her partners smiles ruefully in your periphery, and you are struck with the distinct feeling of being other. “Of course.”

That’s… well. It’s justified, is what it is. She’s right. You aren’t Mandalorian.

You stand quickly, and the chair grates against the floor unpleasantly. You manage not to cringe, somehow.

There’s a free table on the other side of the cantina, you think you saw it as you entered. Should you take the baby? No, Din’s never liked being away from him, even if you’re there. But they’re armed, all three of them, and you don’t know them, even if they did save your life, saved the baby’s, saved Din’s—

There’s a hand at your elbow.

“They stay.”

Din’s voice is unyielding. He hasn’t moved at all besides his grip on your arm, keeping his visor trained on Bo-Katan, who raises a brow.

No one says anything for a long, tense beat. Until—

“They’re not Mandalorian,” Bo-Katan says bluntly. It’s something you don’t have the nerve to state aloud. Something Din is apparently ignoring, however much you’d never believe it.

He stays silent.

“It’s okay,” your murmur, and the silver helmet you know turns to you fractionally. Barely anything, and you know you’re heard. You don’t need to see his face to know he’s still staring Bo-Katan down. “I don’t mind.”

There are three sharp, foreign gazes on you, and your newly-rejuvenated toes curl in your boots. After so many days bundled up in the Crest, you’d forgotten what it felt like to be watched and unwanted. The company inside had never made you feel that way.

“They stay,” he insists, making you jolt. “As is their right.”

Bo-Katan’s half-smile is faintly amused. “And which right is that?” she asks, like she already knows the answer. It seems like they all do, daring Din to state this mysterious ‘right’ that you’re in the dark about.

“It is their right as a member of my clan.”

The gloved fingers on your elbow tighten, leather creaking ever so slightly but just enough to remind you to breathe.

You blink at the silver helm dumbly, forgetting your onlookers for the time being.

He’s— He means that. Din doesn’t say what he doesn’t mean. Every word is measured, deliberate. He chooses his words like he chooses his weapons; they’re specific, well-cared for. Only to be used when necessary. Which suggests that—

Well. Maybe you should sit down.

As you do so, the woman opposite Din releases a slow, steady breath — Maker, you’d almost forgotten she was here — and squares her shoulders.

“Very well,” she says coolly. Her eyes flit to you, appraising, searching, before returning to Din. “As I was saying…”

And then you tune out again, ever so slightly. The information is going in, but you’re not truly registering its significance. Stupid, really, considering Din’s quite literally just fought for your place at the table. But you do.

You stare at the chipped, stained wood as if it holds the answers to questions you don’t know how to phrase. The baby babbles something incoherent, trying to get your attention, so unjustly denied to him, and you offer a finger for him to hold.

Clan. As in, part of. It’s new.

It feels like a small, three-fingered hand, gravelly warmth next to your thigh, and a hand pulling you back to the table.

———

Tracking down the Frog Woman and her husband isn’t too tedious. Trask’s daylight hours are long, for a moon, so even after Din’s aside with Bo-Katan and her people, it’s barely dark as you make your way to the inn.  

“It won’t be long,” Din had assured you. “I go with them, assist with their mission, and come back within a day. Routine transport raid.”

Them. Their. It didn’t bode well that his so-called brethren are this… dissimilar.

“Last time you helped someone out, you got swallowed by a desert dragon.”

“That wasn’t last time.”

“Still counts.”

Childish, perhaps. Petulant. But correct.

The problem was, so was he. There was no choice.

Now, Din leads your party of three briskly down the street.

Since his father had manually adjusted the drift range on the crib beforehand, the child has no issue being carted along express-style, making curious noises at the various fishing apparatus he sees scattered around the port.

You don’t have such luxuries as the little womp rat, so you’re left to frantically try and match your Mandalorian’s pace. The lingering shivers wracking your frame are shoved aside for the wheezing burn beginning to creep up your sides.

“Hey, uh, Mando?” you ask, somewhat out of breath. “You think you could slow down? You’re going a little fast—”

Your shoulder clips a passing Quarren roughly, spinning you round with the force of the collision. The point of impact throbs unpleasantly, painful but superficial. Stunned, you can only blink as the tentacled man snaps something unintelligible in your face. An apology sits ready on your tongue and you open your mouth to speak, before a solid wall appears between you.

A breathing, unyielding wall of leather and beskar, glowering at the Quarren silently as you’re turned away, closer into the gentle bend of his hold. Quietly surrounding, protecting. Something else you’re not used to, from when it was just the three of you in the ship. But this feels… good. It feels like it’s yours.

The other man balks, and leaves with a grumble under his breath.

Din glances around above your head, ever aware, ever cautious. “Stay close,” he murmurs and—

You could probably pinpoint the exact moment your body temperature spikes, as a large, gloved hand comes to rest on your lower back. “Oh. Okay.”

The rest of the walk passes you by.

“I wasn’t trying to rush you,” he says tersely, having slowed his pace considerably. There’s an apology in there somewhere; you can hear it. “But you’re soaked, and you’re cold. You need to get warmed up.”

You smile. It’s really not the time, but— “Are you offering?”

A huff from the modulator, and he shakes his head silently. Less rejection, rather than fond exasperation.

“You must be cold, too.” The realisation dawns on you in an instant. Oh, Maker. He’s been freezing for just as long as you, now. If not more, since he hasn’t eaten anything warm.

The next shake of the helmet is more insistent, purposeful. “No. I wear more layers than you do.”

“You dived into the ocean, Din.” His name is hushed, spoken after a quick look to confirm that no one can hear you.

“So did you.”

“I was pushed, that’s not the same thing.”

Din doesn’t respond, and your smile dims. He seems to hesitate for a moment, before pressing a button on his vambrace, and the baby’s crib floats a little closer.

Oh.

He doesn’t say anything else for the rest of the walk. You regret bringing it up.

But his hand doesn’t stray from your back.

——

The building is small, cozy. Barely a couple of stories tall. And, to your delight, it’s warm.

“Thank you for having us,” you tell the Frog Woman gratefully. One of their towels is wrapped around your shoulders; a placeholder until you can find a clean, dry change of clothes. You feel better already. “We’re sorry to impose like this.”

She croaks something vaguely welcoming and you smile, keeping a shrewd, wary eye on the baby — now staring at the egg canister with wondrous intent, reaching his stubby little hands out from his place clutched to your chest. Now there’s something to keep you occupied for the evening.

A hand on your shoulder, warm and light, and you turn around. Din tilts his head towards the door. “I’ll be going,” he says, barely a whisper past the lip of the helmet.

“What? Uh, Mando, hold on!” Halfway out of the chair already, you stare at him incredulously, before turning back to the expecting parents. “Just— Just a second, please. Could you take the baby?”

However disinclined she may be to your carnivorous terror, the Frog Woman takes him into her hands gently. She’s sweet, kind. You hope she understands the depths of your appreciation.

A polite nod from Din to the couple. “I’ll be back for them soon.”

He follows you into the narrow corridor. The door slides shut behind you both.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

You stare at him for a moment, tugging the edge of the towel at your shoulders. Your mouth opens and closes, faltering around words that don’t have the courage to form.

“I…” You deflate. “I just— I wanted to ask you that. Before you left.” It’s a foolish question. What’s wrong, like his entire way of life hasn’t been upended in a heartbeat by a careless show of face. Like the Way hasn’t just crumbled at his feet like wet sand, trodden on by three strange pairs of boots, scorched by familiar jetpack fuel.

He doesn’t say anything. No tilt of the helmet, no sinking shoulders. Nothing. Just keeps looking at you, visor tilted down to your face.

There’s a reasonable distance between you. Not professional by any stretch of the imagination, but enough for him to be comfortable in semi-public. The corridor is empty, and you can’t hear any footsteps.

Except Din’s, when he steps forward.

You feel your features soften in time with the pounding of your heart. “Din, love, please—”

He pulls you into his chest, plucking the wind from your lungs in a surprised, candied puff into the worn fabric of his cowl. His arms snake around you, securing you to his sturdy frame, and by reflex, yours mirror the movement on him. The helm’s hard, flat surface presses against the side of your head tightly; an anchor tugging on the seabed.

You feel him inhale, a ragged, rattling thing that has your stomach sinking. You only hear that sound when he’s injured, stumbling back to you with a bounty and a nasty, jagged stab wound or two. Only when he’s injured but oh, isn’t he?

It’s hard to tell how long you remain like that. Wrapped around and in between each other. Feeling each other breathe in and out, like the push and pull of the tides. It’s worth it, for the fading of tension in Din’s shoulders. Not removal. But an ebb for the flow. You’ll take it.

“There is a lot,” he rasps, modulated into your hairline. “You know that. And I can’t focus on what needs to be done if I think about it.” You feel him sigh, draping into your arms even further. “I can’t afford that.”

You try to keep your voice calm, soothing. To avoid the hot press of tears threatening to clog your throat. “Okay. That’s, that’s— Okay.”

You sound like a fool, parroting your own words. But he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Okay,” Din agrees. There is something shaky in his voice, and you would give anything to wrench it from his chest and throw it into that Maker-forsaken ocean. Let it drown for all you care.

For now, though, this is enough.

You move to step back, just a palm’s breadth away, and his arms unlock to let you do so immediately. His gloved hands slide down to nestle in the dip of your waist.

You look at Din consideringly, wondering if you could push for later. Later, to discuss the revelations he’s been bombarded with. Later, to talk about what you’re doing to do. Later, to finally get him to rest his weary bones.

Urgent, but. You decide to let him be. For now.

There’s something else you’ve been meaning to ask about anyway.

“So.” You smile wanly, treasuring the jewelled glint of beskar through the thinnest film of tears. “As a member of your clan, huh?”

Din sighs. Bracing, grounding. Returning to the present, where you’re just here to see him off. Where you have a baby waiting inside to keep from snacking on your hosts, and he has a hijacking to initiate. His fingers press tighter into your skin.

He appreciates the subject change.

“You already know my name,” he says quietly. Shrugs. “I’d say you know more about me than anyone else.”

You take a second to mull that over. Enjoy the taste of it in your mouth, the weight of it in your heart. He is such a precious thing to know.

Without thinking, the word leaves your lips in a bright gust of affection. “Same.” The helm tilts. “You know more about me than anyone else, too.”

He nods, a small, barely-there movement. More to himself than to you, you suspect.

“Good.”

Elastically, achingly slow, Din leans his head down. You lift yours up. When your warmed forehead meets beskar, a kiss from which you feel deprived, yet glutted, you’re inclined to agree.

“Stay safe,” you whisper. Your heart fogs and clouds on the metal, right above where his lips would be.

His thumb strokes across your waist. And you know he will.

——

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #star wars #star wars fic #reader-insert #gn!reader #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian season 2 #the mandalorian chapter 11 #gender neutral #gender neutral reader #the heiress #my writing #sw #bit nervous about this one #we'll see how it goes huh