#& swim in a dark forest pond

[coryosbaby]

Give It To Me .

Dark! Luke Castellan x nymph! Reader

Content warning . Non-con, minor predator/prey themes, squirting

You sigh as your toes are enveloped in cold, crystal clear water. Making your way into the pond, you’re thankful none of the other nymphs had followed you here.

Sure, it’s fun to swim with the others. At camp Half Blood, you’ve made a lot of new friends that are just as appreciative of the earth as you. But sometimes you need a moment to yourself— a moment with nature and its elements.

Your clothes are discarded— this is your hiding spot deep in the forest, after all. It’d be a wonder if someone found it. It’s as if it was made just for you.

You spend a great deal of time in the waves, resting against a giant boulder peeking out of the water, relishing in the cool breeze moving through. You giggle at the fish tickling your ankles because they’re always quite fond of you.

You enjoy your swim so much that for a second you don’t hear the sound of another.

It’s the noise of a belt buckle clinking that makes you turn your head towards the shore. You peek out over the surface of the water, and on the shore you see the figure of a tall male.

He seems to be going for a swim. He peels his shirt off, then slips his jeans down to his ankles and throws them on the ground somewhere behind him. He steps into the water, slow, emitting a small sigh as it envelopes him. He wades forward and then relaxes against the waves.

Your eyes glaze over.

You want to move. Your body stays behind the rock , however, to admire him for a moment more.

He’s an interesting half blood. Not like the others— older, with dark, raven like hair, pretty doe eyes, and a very fit body. He’s incredibly handsome, and something tugs in your chest.

You move by instinct, and it makes a splash. Your body freezes up in fear. The boy whirls around, surprised by the sound of another ounce of life in the empty pond. You peek over, praying he doesn’t see you as he makes his way towards the rock.

But to no avail. His eyes catch yours, then, and a feeling like butterfly wings twirls in your tummy.

“I thought I was the only one here.”

You struggle to say something to him, the shock of being caught and the attractiveness of his voice washing over you. He doesn’t seem to mind your timidness, and reaches out his hand.

“I’m Luke.”

Luke. Where had you heard that before? You can’t be sure.

Your much smaller hand falls into his, and your arm erupts into goose flesh. His lips part beautifully—demigod charm.

“You’re a nymph, aren’t you?” He continues. “I’ve seen girls like you in the lake… never back here.”

“Yes,” you reply, in almost a mere whisper. “I’m sorry. I was just.. I’m shy, that’s all.”

He chuckles, both hands running through his hair. Water droplets stick to his forehead.

“Shy. Not shy enough to have a shirt on, though.”

You flush when his eyes drop down to your naked chest. Your hair covers your breasts, but that doesn’t make it any less revealing.

“No one ever comes back here.” you stutter out, embarrassed.

“But I did.”

You don’t know what he means by that. His head tilts, and his body moves closer to you. Your back hits the rock, your chest heaving. “I know nymphs are supposed to be pretty. But I’ve never seen one as beautiful as you.”

Your stomach tangles into knots, from nerves or arousal you aren’t sure.

“Oh,” you breathe out. He chuckles before looking around behind you.

“There isn’t anyone else here, is there?”

You shake your head, and you feel a bit queasy. Regretful, too, for revealing such a thing. Had your stranger danger warnings from your peers taught you nothing?

Something in the boy’s demeanor has changed, and you think that maybe he isn’t your handsome prince after all.

And looking at the scar across his eye, you finally remember who he is— Luke, son of Hermes. A counselor from Cabin Eleven. You had never spoken to him before— it’s a big camp, after all— but his wandering eyes whenever you were near seemed to be filled with lust. You had just toned it down to a weird crush.

How did you not register it before?

You don’t know, and as of right now you don’t care. You begin to move away to the shoreline, where your dress lays haphazardly on the sand.

Something clicks in your head — How could Luke think he was alone if your clothes were there? — and you decide that you really shouldn’t be here. Not near this pond, and especially not near him. Your relaxing day has just turned awry.

“Where are you going?” Luke calls to you, and you begin to move faster. You could care less if your underwear is exposed to him as you finally get to the shore. Your hands nervously fumble with your dress.

“Just… I forgot I had somewhere to be!”

“Where?”

You jump, turning around to see him behind you. His body drips with water and his hair is plastered to his forehead.

“Oh, you know..” you chuckle nervously, a shudder running through you. You avoid eye contact as you slip the dress over your damp body. “Just— nymph stuff.”

“Nymph stuff?” He questions. The way he says it is almost accusingly, as if you aren’t allowed to lie to him. His eyes are dark, his demeanor tense. He walks towards you, and your heart beats out of your chest.

You begin to run.

You don’t know why. It’s maybe—probably— instinct. But you don’t make it far. Not even a few feet. Luke takes after you, and before you can even move off of the sand and onto the grass he’s got you pinned underneath him. A terrified squeak makes its way through you, and you squirm in his grip. He grabs you by the neck and pushes you down into the sand.

“Stop fucking moving,” he growls, fumbling with his belt. “You dumb slut.“

You cry, your bottom lip wobbling. His cock hangs out of his underwear, heavy and thick. Your eyes widen to the size of saucers.

“Luke, please! No, no—“

“Shut up,” he groans out, wrapping a hand around his shaft. Your thighs clench together against your own accord. His other hand flips up the hem of your dress and exposes your wet panties to the open air, and he yanks those down, too. All the while, your heart thuds like a scared rabbit and your legs flail against him.

He pulls your thighs apart, and you whimper weakly.

“Oh, fuck,” Luke’s fingers play with your slit, soaking with something more than water despite your protests. “prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”

His tongue runs along his bottom lip as he pulls away, his hand going to one side of your head, the other moving down to position himself at your entrance. Your body relaxes against its own will, giving up on fighting. He’s extremely strong, definitely skilled in taking his opponents down. There would be no use.

Your eyes water as he sheathes himself in you. White hot heat courses through your veins, shock on your face as he pushes in to the hilt. You can’t do anything but lay there, frozen.

Luke lets out a grunt, his face resting in the crook of your neck as he begins to move. The smell of lake water and shampoo permeates your senses as you unintentionally bury your nose in his curls and sharply inhale. Your arms wrap around his big shoulders and you let out a salacious cry.

He slaps his hand over your mouth, his voice as venomous as a snake’s.

“Don’t you dare get us caught,” he warns, a low chuckle coming out of his mouth when you clench around him. “Dirty fucking girl. I bet you want that, don’t you? I bet you want everyone to see what I do to you. How much of a desperate bitch you are for me.”

You shake your head aggressively. He smiles.

Turning your head to the side, you see the expanse of the woods and the lake before your eyes flutter shut in pleasure. He hits a spongey spot inside you that has your toes curling, and he watches every movement — the way your face contorts in pleasure, your body taking over the rejection in your mind. The way your wetness leaves a white, creamy ring around the base of his cock. The way that everytime he touches that spot, your legs shake and quiver.

He fucks into it over and over, rutting into your like an animal, hammering his aching dick against your walls and making you see stars.

You should feel guilt, disgust. But he’s so heavy on top of you, and it’s hard to breathe, and his hands are coming down to your clit and— fuck, you’re going to cum.

It happens quickly. You don’t even fathom what happens before your orgasm washes over you, but your vision whites out and you seize up. Back arching, you let out a desperate mewl as liquid gushes out of your abused cunt. Luke, noticing with furrowed brows and his mouth agape, pulls out of you to slip his fingers inside instead. The digits slide in easily, coated in wetness, as he begins to thrust them in and out. The slick sound of your release sets your face on fire.

“Fuck yes,” Luke groans, and he sounds pained. “Give it to me, princess. That’s it, that’s the stuff…”

Rubbing at your clit, he helps you ride out your orgasm, drawing out more of your release. His fingers go up to his mouth, and he slides them over his tongue. He whines, positioning himself back over your pussy, his hand jerking off his own dick.

“Gonna cum all over you,” he grunts, arousal pooling over his fist. “Shit, ‘m gonna...”

His head tilts back, and he lets out a deep moan as he releases all over your bare pussy. Your hole clenches desperately when you feel his warm spend hit it, sticky and wet. His big hand splays across your thigh and digs crescent moons into it as he rides out his high with a shaky quiver of your name.

You lay motionless, his cum drying against your cunt as he comes down. He still holds your legs in his hands—as if you could go anywhere, at this point. As if he hadn’t just fucked you dumb.

He strokes the skin of your thighs, his breath bordering on a sigh.

“This’ll be our little secret,” he says softly.“Yeah, baby? Promise you won’t tell?”

It may sound sugary sweet, but underneath it all the sentence is incredibly threatening.

Sweaty and hot, you weakly nod. He gives a pleased, predatory smile that shakes you to the core.

“That’s my girl.”

#bunny writes ͟͟͞☆ #this is ass but whatever #Luke Castellan #Luke Castellan x reader #luke castellan x fem! reader #Luke Castellan x nymph! reader #dark! Luke Castellan x reader #Luke Castellan smut #Luke Castellan blurb #Luke Castellan fanfic #dark! luke castellan #dom! Luke Castellan #sub! reader #Percy Jackson #Percy Jackson fanfic #Percy Jackson series #Luke Percy Jackson fanfic #Luke Percy Jackson #pjo tv show #pjo #Percy Jackson and the olympians

[thatdeadaquarius]

it's almost 4am i can't get this out of my head holy shit.

reader whose original body is a literal eldritch forest deity and speaks in hymns (bonus points: after we isekai into said og body, we mix slang into it).

the acolytes have to break their fucking necks just to talk to you eye-to-eye, and the only thing they can make out of what you say is something equal to tablets bajillion years old already.

or that reader is constantly cussing and the acolytes just nod along not understanding whatever this 15ft tall eldritch horror is saying.

-🫀

ELDRITCH HORROR READER. I LIVEEE, NONE OF U UNDERSTAND, THIS IS SO DEEPLY AHHHHHH

I LITERALLY JUST SHIMMY STIM IN MY SEAT WHEN I THINK ABT THIS TOO LONG LMAO

i LIVE AND BREATHE for when we look like eldritch horrors but are just people lmao

IF I HAVEN’T RUN U OFF, 🫀 MY HEART, MI CORAZON <3

U HAVE A BEAUTIFUL MIND DESPITE BEING A BLOODY HEART

☆

Sun: Gender Neutral Reader (they/them only), Eldritch!Reader

Planet: Misc. Genshin AUs

Orbit: some headcanons, tiny scenario

Stars: a little bit of Zhongli, Xiao, Ganyu, Ningguang, Keqing, and the adepti

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: Light Description of Body Modifications/Body Horror-esque, Light Description of Eldritch Horror Creature, Reader has a Non-Human Body,

& Trigger Warnings: Eldritch Monster, Light Body Horror, Non-Con Body Modifications (Wake up as a monster, described as positive).

FUCKING LOVE THIS GIF, AND THIS SONG AND ARTISTTT

hey so here’s a song to listen I was listening to while writing this, chose the instrumental bc it was less distracting!

👉👈 hope u like :)

you just come into Teyvat from either Enkanomiya, the straight up Abyss/Dark Realm or even Celestia/Light Realmunder that glowing mushrooms tree in the Chasm, or like, ooo even by the upside down Barbatos statue 👀

and its great bc ur like- “omg Teyvat ooooo, ahhhh”

meanwhile the animals/magical creatures/beings nearby like shakin in their boots

literally no matter what land type their in, water, air, etc. they’re all bowing (despite the hooves, the paws, the flippers, the wings,) hell, even the bugs?? Might be bowing???

and you were slow to wake up wherever you were, so it took you a second to really process-

plus it just felt so weirdly, natural?

Not like walking on 2 legs no, but more like, how swimming feels but without the act of doing it?

you realize you’re… hovering.

wow, guess you can do that now,

your pretty much crowned with every flower from the regions of Teyvat, and a few from other Realms like Celestia, Abyss, and Enkanomiya, etc.

you have extra limbs, you feel them shift like you’ve had them all your life, even tho you do smack urself a few times with them lmao (new hand-eye coordination is hard)

and you realize u can see elemental traces/elements of beings, even plants, all the time now?

It isn’t until you look into a pretty still pond that you see what you look like,

you’ve got more eyes

I mean u thought you’d just be one of the twins, or ur own person if somebody asked u what youd look like isekaied to Genshin Impact, not what looks like the elemental god of the fucking continent

but you don’t look bad! actually you think you look kinda neat!

You’ve got like this coat of many draping vines and plantlife, glowing coral poking out near the top that’s around your throat, and- is that- tiny waterfalls?? Running down your nature cape too??

the many gemstones and ore of this planet form your legs, strong and taller than even regular human guys back on Earth, you’re like what? Eight? Nine feet? (about 245cm, or 2.5 meters)

You’re head… it’s like a dragons skull?? You’ve got these black horns flowing out from the top too that fade to a golden glow, like a crown nearly, theyre draped with what looks like strings of primogems??

oh and your extra eyes are symmetrical that’s good!

tho it does seem like you got this handy hood included into your cape of much nature to flop onto your head

where your heart should be, there’s two bursting stars circling one another, one of pink, purples and light blues, the other of gold and blue, oh hey, the wishing stars for standard and character banners!

and if you like mushrooms, at least one of every kind in Teyvat’s countries/regions is looking cool on ur cape, and if you like bugs, the cool ones like the rhino beetles from inazuma are being cute little buddies on ur stuff too

and like in the gif, every step you take overfills with life, except it stays and doesn’t wither like above, and it also does that glow bit that some places in Sumeru do/Enkanomiya

You CANNOT be missed no matter where you walk, and your sort of constantly feeling like you’ve drank 3 energy + 5 espresso shots of coffee

but in a way that makes you sort of full? like full on life… and like you could be even bigger, and taller, if you willed it

♤

k but the adepti felt ur presence coming in hot from literal mountains away

Cloud Retainter, and Guizhong, had set up inventions long ago to sense the Original of Teyvat, just in case, because some signs of prophecy of your return had begun to show in their lands

Zhongli especially knew you were close to come after another major sign was met, the corruption after the Archon War, and the ravaging of the land by the fall of Khaenri’ah’s “metal beasts”

So when you finally walk your way into Jueyun Karst, the adepti are already waiting, Xiao, Ganyu, and Zhongli as well,

Luckily Ganyu, with Zhongli’s help or advice, convinced the adepti to share this meeting with the Qixing as well like Keqing, and the Tianquan herself

It was a momentous occasion after all, but you were just now feeling the need to maybe nap a little after nearly, what was it, 2 weeks worth of constant walking?

wow this new body had literal stamina for days

you arrived late into the night, around midnight, under a full moon, and they’re relieved all the signs are being met

◇

honestly the only reason you headed to Liyue was bc you knew it was the closest (the map of Teyvat was both familiar in the way it had been in game, but also on a deeper level, like walking around your house in the dark)

and u rlly wanted to be able to talk to somebody, bc u had no idea?? wtf you were??

honestly you thought the adepti/Zhongli would be a good bet bc they’d maybe tell u what creature u ended up as,

u did suspect maybe you’d ended up as some kind of god, but like?? none of the other gods looked like this???

and u see them all! up ahead in Jueyun Karst! Oh no! You really, really, really, hope they don’t think you’re a walking talking evil tree dragon thing-

…maybe you should wave?

◇

As you get closer,

Xiao’s back straigtens, Ganyu nervously looks at the ground, Keqing is trying to figure out where to look bc ur so tall, Ningguang has her hands respectfully folded in front of her and her facial muscles looks tensed for a fight almost, the adepti are shuffling nervously bc they’re not used to being the magically weaker/younger creatures in the area, and Zhongli-

Zhongli is no longer the mortal Zhongli.

Amber horns curl up from his head, long brunette hair with glowing gold tips flowing and loose, claws on display, as he stands in his finest and oldest lóng páo, black with gold detailing embroidered throughout, it details his deeds as Rex Lapis and Morax, the spears of his vanquishing gods across the front and back, he looks like a living painting

and although he looks as serene as if he’s about to sit down for some tea, the adepti can see the tremoring hands, the same he used to hide in his sleeves when he was genuinely intimidated by another god, usually the older ones he’d had to fight

but for the first time since the archon war, this was one he was going to welcome with open arms, and utmost respect, despite his position as archon forfeited

there’s a strange music in the air of the night as the animals and the bugs and creatures of the realm subtly make the beat, the god’s feet (of ore Rex Lapis hasn’t seen since he was a child, it was so rare to find) shake the earth of his land with each step, a deep quiet booming like a drum of war as they get closer

The God of All stops some distance away from them

…and the Huangdi of All, just waves. 💀👋

at Zhongli, the adepti, Xiao, the Tianquan, and the Qixing.

A long black limb with a rainbow shine like a crow’s wing raises, gives an ironically tiny wave of their clawed black hand,

and tilts their head, though a sort of greenery hood covering it

and speaks,

“ ˙˙˙ʎzɐɹɔ sı ʇıɥs sıɥʇ ¿ʍou ʇɥƃıɹ ɯɐ ı ʞɔnɟ ǝɥʇ ʇɐɥʍ ʍouʞ sʎnƃ noʎ op uɯɐp”

your voice is like singing, deep, high, like a choir trying to sing all at once to them

Xiao cringes a little in surprise, he was braced for your older speech just in case but it still caught him off guard, and unfortunatly, he gives a quick glance to Lord Rex Lapis,

he can’t understand any of that, and Ganyu and Keqing are in the same boat, but while the Yaksha’s only done passive studying in hopes of understanding you, the Lord of Geo had gone much further back in trying to make sure he could understand your words, should the day come, his library, even now living as a mortal, is extensive

the other adepti and Ningguang catch a few words, but it’s too,, simple really, to understand

the words have no context, they need more, but such is the ancients, they’re meanings simple and all-encompassing

Lord Rex Lapis bows deeply,

“We welcome you with open arms, our Huangdi. Please, feast your eyes upon the land with which I have wrought with mine own talons, for all is ever truly yours.”

the adepti announces for them all, voice giving away no nerves, Xiao can still understand him luckily, though he has greatly simplified himself for the sake of being understood by the ancient god of creation,

“ ˙˙˙ʞɔıʇs ɐ uo ʇsıɹɥɔ snsǝɾ ¡¿ılƃuoɥz noʎ uǝʌǝ ¿noʎ oʇ poƃ ɟo puıʞ ǝɯos ɯ,ı 'ǝʇnuıɯ uɯɐp ɐ ʇıɐʍ”

your voice is an energy through the air, and makes the trees nearby lean in to hear you better, the creeks and ponds of the area leave their beds a little to get closer, geo crystalflys emerge and begin to swirl around your natural body, perching on your horns, making it look even more like a crown

Xiao gulps.

Rex Lapis’ and Ningguang’s spines straighten further if they even can from the impeccable posture they were before, They share a quick glance…

…neither of them caught that one, only a few words, and Ganyu feels her shoulders drop as she gives up trying to hear you and understand as well,

you make a strange sound, a high humming, a deep confusion with some worry, the crystalflys buzz around you a little faster,

then point to yourself

...and make a peace sign. ✌️

it was going to be a long night.

☆

idk if this made any sense, and I sincerely hope that you at least liked what I wrote a little bit, sorry about the over description 😭 I just felt like it was very important but then I realized I hadn’t even talked about the language yet… anyway here u go LMAO

I hope it was alright, and I seriously love your idea, even if I didn’t take it in the direction you wanted/as cool as you meant!! :/

Thanks for the badass idea, i fucking love eldritch shit <3

☆

Safe Travels,

💀 ♒

♡my beloved♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk

#this is a mess to sort on the masterlist #like language barrier au? #but also kinda blunt? #but also misc. bc ur an eldritch being?? #fuck it #its goin in 2 spots like some of the others that got confusing #genshin impact #genshin sagau #sagau #genshin imagines #genshin isekai #my asks #gender neutral reader #genshin impact sagau #genshin impact self aware #genshin impact sagau language barrier au #genshin sagau language barrier au #sagau language barrier au #sagau eldritch reader #eldritch reader #genshin impact x reader #sagau x reader

[saintship]

humbly would like to request konig seeing s/h scars on his s/o for the first time :’)

fun fact i got dumped one time over em one time, my ex saw em on my thigh and was like “yeah no”

First of all I’m hunting this fucker down, what the hell??

People who get stranger’s IP’s do your shit

I’m so sorry that happened to you, that little boy did not deserve you, I hope you enjoy<3

SIDE NOTE I saw a headcanon on tiktok saying “König is NOT shy” And I kinda loved that so I tried to explore it a bit

Warnings: S/H scars, revealing of traumatic events

König x Reader

Outer Patrol

Of all the assignment you cycled through, outer patrol was the easiest on the eyes. The forest surrounding the base consisted of thin birch trees packed together, so that slivers of sunlight would reach through and grace the east grounds. Your favorite was the early morning outer patrol with König—he shared your fascination with the forest, and slung a loose arm around you when it had been truly freezing last winter.

Now, in the warmth of July, the sun casted its light aggressively through the gaps of branches and leaves, the humid air clouding your thoughts.

The sticks and leaves crumpled under both of your boots, König bringing up the rear on the narrow path.

“Do you think there are bears out here?” You murmur, looking carefully through the gaps of the trees.

“Nein. We make too much noise..” König pointed out. The camp certainly made itself known during artillery drills.

You hum, letting the air settle in silence again. Suddenly, you stopped in your tracks, causing König to nearly topple you over.

“Hey!”

“Sh!” You hold up a gloved hand, staying as still as possible. Slowly, you lifted the other to point ahead of you, where a fox pawed at the ground, investigating the lush grass.

“That’s not a bear.” König’s whisper nearly made you laugh, but you swatted his shoulder instead, smiling.

“He’s so cute..” you whisper. The fox lifted its head, spotting the two of you and bounding away quickly.

“I guess it’s not too loud for him.” You turn around and walk backwards to face your partner as the path widens ahead.

“Maybe we’ll see kits in the spring.” König said softly.

“Aw..” You cooed at the thought, smiling.

The path continued, but there was a faint fork that led off to the right.

“Have you seen this?”

König shook his head.

You pushed back a branch, stepping through the threshold. The path was littered with overgrown ferns, bushes, and a few fallen logs you had to vault over. Finally, the path opened to a clearing, where a small stream expanded into a large pond nestled underneath a trickling waterfall. The rocky ledge slanted down, the falling water sparkling beneath the late morning sunshine.

“Oh..my god..” you breathed. You turned to see König’s reaction; he was transfixed on the water, his eyes shining under the dark paint and hood.

“This is insane..” you knelt by the water, removing a glove to feel the temperature. “Not bad. I bet people used to swim here.”

Suddenly, König’s pager buzzed, and he was broken from his trance to retrieve the device from his hip.

“König, outer patrol..” He greeted.

“Price is tellin’ me to inform everyone off base to not come back until the afternoon; apparently we’ve got more people than we’re supposed to have on the property, and the hounds are here earlier than he thought.”

Simon’s voice rang gruffly through the transmitter, sounding irritated.

“So just don’t come back for a few hours, yeah?”

“Ja.” König replied.

“Thanks, Ghost!” You called from where you knelt at the water.

“Whatever.” The line clicked, leaving them alone with the sound of running water again.

“Well, we couldn’t have been in a luckier spot to stay put.” You stated, pulling off your backpack. You set down your gun next to it and hugged your knees, watching the water.

“That is true.” König conceded. He shed the bulk of his gear, along with his weapon, but remained standing, wandering along the shoreline. He knelt for a moment, seemingly inspecting something, before standing again and tossing a stone sideways, the rock skidding a total of four times before plunging into the water.

“Woah!” You got to your feet, walking over to him. “You could go Olympic..” You found a stone that seemed thin enough, turning it over in your ungloved hand.

“Just turn your hips. Put your soul into it.” König instructed, enacting his ridiculous stone-skipping stance. You laughed a bit, but followed his direction, skipping the rock twice.

“Ha!” You threw your arms up, connecting your hands with König’s for a double high five.

“Not bad..” He chided.

The sun rose in the sky over the next hour, you and König perfectly content with skipping rocks, wrestling, and splashing each other. All the movement combined with the beating sun made for a layer of sweat underneath your uniform.

“Wish we could swim; I’m melting..” you laid on your back dramatically, feeling the warm stones through your shirt.

“Why not?”

“Because, we have work, and someone might- hey!” You sat up, gaping as König lifted his shirt. He was careful to keep his hood on, but dared to strip of his pants, boots and socks.

“What are you doing?” You couldn’t help but smile at his tenacity.

“Just to my waist!” König gestured to his bare torso, his black briefs and hood being the only fabric left on him. You watched as he waded in, the muscles of his back enough to have a warmth climb your neck. You look away, feeling uncertain about ogling your coworker.

“It’s so nice!”

You turned back to see him hip-deep, running his hands back and forth along the surface. The definition of his chest and shoulders was criminal, accentuated by the patterns of light reflecting off the water’s surface.

“Come on!”

“No way!” You grinned, trying to hide the sense of dread the idea brought onto your mind.

“I am willing to use force!”

“Oh, god..” you sighed, removing your boots and socks. You waded to your shins, rolling up your pants so they didn’t get wet. The water was cool, washing away the sweat prickling on your legs. “Happy?”

“I don’t think so..” He sang, wading back to the shore. The water cascaded down his lower stomach, along his thighs. You found yourself furiously studying the pebbles at your feet, rendering you unaware of König’s attack.

He lifted you from the water with damp hands, ready to drop you in the further depths. You yelped, laughing but terrified of coming back with a soaked uniform.

“Alright! Alright!” You shouted. “I’ll get in, crazy!”

A gentle laugh rumbled from his chest, which sounded right by your ear as he set you down. You had felt the muscle of his chest through just a layer of fabric; the thought enough for you to avoid his eyes.

With all the laughter, you almost forgot the reason you didn’t want to undress in the first place. While König returned into the water, you pulled off your shirt, your sports bra being the only covering for your chest. The high-waisted underwear that you wore so your belt didn’t dig dents into your skin acted as bottoms, but you were hesitant to remove your pants. König noticed your labored breathing, returning to your side again.

“You don’t have to..if you really don’t want to.” He said gently, holding out a surrendering hand.

“No, it’s not..I just..” you sighed, irritated, and sat down in the sand.

“Is there something bothering you?” König’s gentle question shouldn’t have made you shrink the way it did.

“I’m sorry I pressured you, I didn’t-"

“König, it’s not your fault.” Your words escaped a bit snappier than usual, your shame building into frustration. “It’s..there are parts of myself you haven’t seen. Things that might upset you.”

König continued to look in your eyes, his concern drifting to confusion.

“There is nothing I would hold against you..” he assured. “If you want to do this, you shouldn’t hold yourself back, it’s alright.”

His words grounded you. He was right; a bodily feature is not grounds for hiding yourself away for the rest of your life when you don’t want to.

You nod, finding it easier to just get to it. Your belt came off first, the sound of the sliding leather deafening in the air of trickling water and chittering birds. Sliding your pants down your legs, the scars stretching over your thighs seemed especially defined under the sunlight. You discarded your pants, resisting the urge to cover yourself. You heard an intake of breath from König; a noise of realization.

“That is why you didn’t want to?” He asked gently.

“Scars like these don’t sit well with most people.” You murmur. Standing, you wade fully into the water, letting the water come up to your shoulders. König followed quietly, the same depth with his height letting the water only reach his sternum.

“I don’t think of you differently.” He admitted softly. “I’m honored you trust me to share something like that..I believe you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

You study his eyes for a moment, the water around you soothing your worries. “Really?”

König nodded, then let the silence stretch its legs between the two of you for a moment.

“Do you wanna go under the waterfall?” König asked.

You smiled. “Your hood will get wet..”

He hummed in realization. “I suppose you’ll have to go under for two?”

You laugh gently, swimming toward the waterfall with a splash at his chest. The water fell gently, soaking your hair and cooling your scalp.

“That’s nice..” you murmured, your eyes closed. “They’re totally going to know..”

Opening your eyes, you spot König already looking your way. The water is deep enough here that the edge seams of his hood are dipping into the water.

“I think it was worth it..”

You know he doesn’t mean it was worth it to escape the heat. Or threaten to dunk you underwater, or watch you tilt your head back under a glittering waterfall. You’d admitted something raw—deeply personal. There was a tie that bound you now, separate from that military based trust that everyone shared. With the others, you’d devoted the sacrifice of your body; your role in the fight. But to one Colonel, you had devoted your mind.

#cod requests #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #cod mwii #call of duty mw2 #cod mw2 #könig x reader #könig mw2 #könig x fem reader #könig x you #könig modern warfare

[staarlight-snow]

Murky Waters (part 2) - Island of the Slaughtered

TW: Gorey descriptions, Strong/Foul language

[Inspired by "last thoughts" by muridaecorps]

My take/interpretation of Noah's death

Part 1

"You know what? Fuck you." Noah blurted out. He gripped unto his book – quickly turning around. Storming off, heading towards the forest. "Noah! You can't just leave it's not safe!" Someone called out. "Tsk.. Let him be." Duncan crossed his arms, "He'll come running back in seconds." After all what kind of idiot would actually run off just like that.

Stupid island, stupid Duncan, stupid fucking Chris. He hated being stuck in a small island with a killer on a loose, who wouldn't? But he hated putting his safety in the hands of a jerky deliquent who does nothing but boss everyone around. Who does Duncan even think he is? Just because he's been in juvenile detention and he's punk doesn't mean he's right for a leadership role.

He continued to angrily make his way deeper into the forest. Stopping at his tracks. Fuck. He was lost. Shit. He was far away from the others. He quickly turned around, retracing his steps.

Noah you fucking idiot, he cursed himself. He quickened his pace, realizing the situation he was at. The sun was setting, the forest was getting darker and all the trees started to look the same.

Then there it was. His body froze up. Shit. He swear his heart dropped right down to his stomach. His breathing became frantic and his mind became hazy. The bushes started to rustle as the figure got closer. So he ran.

He ran, fast. He ran, for his life. No, no, no, no. It can't end like this. He promised Cody they'd get out of there. Not like this please. He still had plans for his future, aspirations and dreams. Of course! Everyone did.

He felt a stream of tears roll down his cheeks as he ran faster. He hated this so much. He hated himself for not participating in any kinds of sports. He ran as quick as he could.

He stopped by a tree to catch his breath. Bad idea right? He just needed a breather, even for a few seconds. His nails dug deep into the novel in his hands. His heart beated faster than he could possibly have ever felt. He looked behind him. Nothing.

He tried to steady his breathing. Just for a second. He started to regret everything, signing that stupid contract, arguing with Duncan, storming off. He regret it all. He closed his eyes. He just wants to go home. He just to leave. He wanted to get out of here. He wanted to get back to camp. He wanted to see Cody again, he seemed to forget every little thing he hated about Cody – cause right now, all he wanted was his friend.

He opened his eyes to a burning feeling around his neck. His eyes widened. Fuck. He dropped the book and desperately tried to get the rope off him. He caught a glimpse of the sickened man behind him, he grinned at the poor teen.

"P-please..." He choked out, "I.. I don't wanna die-" He cried. There was no point. Did he really think a cold-hearted murderer would spare his life?

The rope stung against his neck and it hurt more from the scratches he made attempting to get rid of it. He mind felt hazy and he was light-headed. He fell over, too weak to move from where he was. Fuck.

He was still breathing. Barely. But it gave him a slight taste of hope. He was in terrible shape but maybe he could survive this. If he pretended to be dead and out cold maybe the murderer would leave him there. Or so he thought.

He cried out, feeling a sharp pain in his shoulder. His vision was blurry but he saw it. The knife, deep into him. No. He felt light, he was being carried. Next thing he knew everything was cold, dark and wet. Fuck.

His blood pooled around the pond. He wanted to get out, swim. He knew he could swim but his body was too weak. Slowly, he gave up and succumbed to his death.

It's unfair.

--

Sequel ish

#total drama #td noah #tdi #total drama island #island of the slaughtered #total drama au #noco #td duncan #tw horror #tw death

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Teeth

Part 19

Werepanther! Billy Russo X Female Reader

Masterlist

Warnings: Dreams of blood and gore expanded on from part 1, anxiety, fear, disorientation, mild panic, comfort.

You don’t recognize where you are at first, it takes you a second to figure it out.

Trees all around you in the dark, soft rustling as gentle winds blow through the forest.

You’re there again.

You know what’s coming, you start moving before you hear the first branch snap.

There’s a murderer in the woods, and he wants to kill you.

You gasp for air, chest burning, trying to be as quiet as possible as you search.

Search? What were you looking for?

You pause, holding your breath to quiet your sounds so that you can listen for footsteps.

There.

He’s not far behind and he’s coming faster.

You keep moving, hoping that you’re going to find what you’re looking for around the next bend of trees.

It takes you a while, what feels like forever, of searching, of hiding, of running.

You find him, drinking out of a shallow puddle of water, his back to you.

He turns when you approach.

“Help.” You say to the panther, the only predator worth trusting, “I need your help.”

The panther is calm, though with every beat of your heart you can hear the crunching of footsteps near approaching. 

The sleek animal approaches calmly, until he’s almost by your side.

A gun cocks behind you, and you turn suddenly.

You see him, the hunter, more clearly than you ever did before, a bitter scent in your nose, telling you that there’s fear, heavy in the air.

Gun raised, and you lunge. 

His vocal cords are torn out first, you make sure not to go too deep, you want him to feel this, every moment of it. His blood is metallic on your tongue, and you hear the way blood rushes into his lungs.

He tries to raise the gun, and his arm is next. The feeling of flesh and bone crunching between your teeth shouldn’t be as satisfying as it is. You comfort yourself with the notion that he chose this, that he attacked first.

He doesn’t do much more than lie there after that, and in a few minutes, his breathing stops, maybe with the loss of blood, maybe by drowning in it.

You turn away, going back to the little puddle you were at before, only now it’s a large pond.

You drink greedily from the water, desperate to wash the taste of blood from your mouth, and when the water settles, it’s not your reflection staring back at you, it’s the panther’s.

You’re calm about it, feeling like a passenger in someone else’s body, you walk into the water, feeling a body that is not yours, surrounded by the cool waters.

It’s strange, as you feel the way the fur on the surface of your skin gets wet, a sensation you’ve never felt before.

You can feel the gentle current of the water as you swim, you know which way you’re going, not with just your eyes, but with your entire body.

You look up, shaking your head, the stars in the sky dancing just for you.

You feel at peace here, despite what you’ve just done, the memory of it fading in lieu of your current, unfamiliar experience.

Something inside you settles, no longer agitated by your past experiences, in the dark forest, under the night sky, an acceptance overcomes you.

You were the panther now.

.

You yawn, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes and then running them back to press against your temples.

You try to refocus on your laptop screen, but the words are all jumbled and you have trouble focusing on them.

You groan, dropping your head onto your desk, really not wanting to work anymore for today.

It was funny, because you’d basically fought to convince Billy you were okay this morning, getting dressed and waiting patiently at his front door.

When he’d seen you waiting for him, he’d looked so confused.

“It’s really okay if you want to wait a few more days.” He’d said, trying to encourage you to stay in his home alone.

Which was something you really didn’t want to do.

At least not so soon.

“I can do it.” You’d said with a lot more confidence in your voice than you’d actually felt. You didn’t understand why you were pushing so hard.

It had taken a few solid minutes to convince him that you would be okay, and then he’d fixed his mouth into a displeased line for a moment, before accepting.

And then he’d done the most shocking thing.

He’d cupped your face in both hands, big and warm and gentle on your face, his eyes desperate for something his mouth had yet to ask.

“Can I kiss you?”

Four words that had rushed into your head and made your knees wobble.

You’d swallowed nervously, before responding in the affirmative.

It was the softest, hottest, most toe curling kiss you’d ever experienced, and it had only been a few seconds before he was leaning away and leading you to his car with your heart slamming in your throat and vibrating in your chest.

It was danger unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.

Now though, you sigh, standing to grab yourself another cup of coffee, your body fatigued for reasons you didn’t know. 

You just had to get through the day. The weekend was near, and you’d have plenty of time then to think about Billy Russo and his kisses.

You find yourself  smiling like a lunatic into your third cup of coffee.

A text comes in from Amy, asking how you're doing, and you try to answer as honestly as possible.

Every waking moment was scary, you didn't know whether you were being watched or not, if someone would just pop up from some obscure place and try to hurt you.

They could be someone who you'd worked with before, or even, someone working with you right now.

You press your fingers to your mouth anxiously, looking around, trying to figure out if you could notice anyone acting suspicious.

When someone looks at you, probably noticing your stares, you stand abruptly, a searing pain in your chest as you rush out of the room.

Your heart was pounding, trying to keep your head down as you try not to race past people. Everyone that looked at you was another suspect on your list. 

You try to regulate your breathing, sharp and shallow is the best you can do as the sounds around you blend into one another, into a hum that buzzes in your head, making you want to scream.

You don't realize where you are until you barge into his office unannounced and see his face.

He's not alone, two other well-dressed men in the room with him, turning to look at you, their eyes like spotlights, making you freeze.

You don’t remember how you got here, your mouth parting in hopes that an explanation will just fall out.

“Let’s put a pin in this for now.” Billy says pulling the attention of both men to him, he nods decisively before speaking again.

“We’ll pick up again tomorrow, it’ll give me a chance to finalise some details for you.”

You turn away in shame, looking into the far end of the room as the men stand, nodding in agreement, and turning to the door.

You politely step to the side, and offer them a small smile of apology as they walk past you and through the door.

As soon as the door closes, you turn to face him, finding that he’s almost to you anyway.

“I’m so sorry,” You whisper to him in a distressed voice, “I didn’t mean to interrupt or cause you any trouble.”

“Shhh,” He soothes, bringing his hands up to cup your cheeks, “It’s alright. Did something happen?”

You close your eyes when the smell of him reaches you. His body is so close and yet so achingly far away.

“I’m- I don’t know I was working and-” You pause to take a deep breath, raising your hands to wipe at your eyes, “I don’t know what’s going on.”

You gasp, avoiding his gaze as tears pool in your eyes and threaten to fall.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” You whisper, disoriented, unable to focus, your head so foggy with the worst parts of yourself.

You didn’t want to cry again, didn’t want to manipulate him into giving you comfort. You felt so badly for needing him over and over again.

“I’m sorry.” You try again, wanting to be the strong woman you once were.

He says your name softly, and it only succeeds in making your lip tremble.

“This is normal, sweetheart. This is an absolutely normal way to be feeling given the circumstance.” He soothes.

It’s like you don’t hear him, or more like his words aren’t registering in your head.

“I’m so damaged,” You lament, “Broken beyond repair. Maybe I’ve always been, maybe- maybe that’s why no one has ever really wanted me.”

.

He can’t breathe.

There’s so much he wants to say, but the words stick like tar in his throat.

How could you think no one wants you? When I’ve been searching for you for years? When my soul has been aching for yours long before I understood that souls could ache, or that I even had a soul to begin with?

Why would you want me? Billy thinks finally. 

He swallows, too afraid of his own self reflection, blinking to reorient himself to your distressed state.

Out loud, he simply says, “Come here.”

Guiding you along, his hands gripped in yours, he takes you around his desk.

“Get under.” He says softly, watches your distress turn to confusion.

You look perplexed for a moment, before you do as he says. Billy watches you step out of your heels, and crawl under his desk, pulling your knees up to your chest and looking up at him with a sniffle.

He smiles reassuringly at you, moving quickly to his couch to grab the large grey throw blanket  and the two pillows sitting there.

He returns to the desk, reaching into the mini fridge beside it to pull out a tiny crate of fresh strawberries he’d had delivered earlier in the day just for you, and then he gets to work.

The first thing he does is toss the blanket over part of his table and over his office chair, anchoring it with whatever is heaviest to make sure it doesn’t slip off the table, sliding the pillows under the makeshift fort.

The next thing he does is shed his jacket and shoes, rolling up his sleeves and pulling his tie off without much thought.

He dims the light in his office, making sure that it's soothing enough, listening to your heartbeat slow a little as he makes the environment a bit more comfortable.

Then, he kneels, crawling under his desk as well, fitting his large body into the free space, tucking pillows behind his back and pulling your curled body against his.

You don’t speak until he presses the little tray of strawberries into your hands.

“What… are we doing?” You ask curiously.

“We’re hiding.” Billy answers, as if the answer is the most obvious one in the world.

“Hiding from what?” 

“Ourselves.”

.

Your lip wobbles again, but this time for a completely different reason.

How could one person be so understanding of you?

You close your eyes, resting your head against his shoulder, smiling as he elaborates on his last words.

“Take all those bad feelings in your head and leave them outside. In here, it’s just you, me, and strawberries.”

You smile, reaching for the fruit in question, raising it to your lips.

Delicious, as always, juicy, and tart on your tongue.

You let out a blissful sigh, feeling your body reorient itself in your universe.

“I like strawberries.” You say calmly, taking another bite of the sweet fruit.

He hums, and the sound vibrates in your ear with how close he is.

“Yeah? What else do you like?”

“Bunnies.” You answer without another thought.

“Bunnies are very cute.” He agrees.

“What do you like?” You echo to him.

“Cats.” He says simply.

“Love cats.” You say with a soft nod.

“What about flowers, do you like flowers?”

“Mhmm,” You respond mid chew, swallowing to respond to him, “Gladioli, wisteria, coneflowers, lily of the valley. They’re beautiful. The forest where- uh- where Amy, Dani and I camped, would have some amazing flowers during the spring. Sometimes we’d find a nice spot and have a picnic. I was always in charge of getting the fruits and wines.”

“That sounds amazing. What made you start going there in the first place?”

You smile, deep in thought.

“My dad had taken us up once, and I’d loved every minute of it, but after that, he never did again, despite how badly or how much I begged, and no one else at the time had any interest in going with me and I didn’t want to go alone, so years passed with me never going. Dani was the first person I’d met who loved the outdoors as much as me, and by sheer pestering, Amy agreed to come with us after college, and it’s just been a thing since then. A few days there each spring was the best feeling in the world.” 

“That first time you went,” Billy murmurs, “We might have been up there at the same time.”

You turn to look at him finally, his close proximity to you, his mouth directly in your line of sight, his soft breath brushing your cheek. 

“I wish I’d met you. We might have been friends.”

He nods in easy agreement, as if he has no hesitations about it.

.

When your bodies ache from being in the same place for so long, you finally crawl out, giggling at the antics it takes, to get to your feet.

One of your legs tingle from lack of proper circulation, and you lean against his desk for support, watching him reach to put his shoes back on. 

When he’s done, he kneels before you, to your absolute surprise, grabbing your little heels, and holding one out for you expectantly.

Your body feels so charged with electricity, lifting one foot up to let him slip your shoe on, and doing the same for the other foot.

He rises to his feet before you, and you go from looking down at him, to looking up, his body so close to yours, and yet still not touching.

He brings his hand around your body, gripping your hip as he slots himself against you.

Your lips part automatically, addicted to the look in his eyes, the promise written in them.

“Can I kiss you?” Billy hums, his other arm rising to trail the back of his hand across your cheekbone softly.

“Yes.” You answer eagerly, tilting your head up, praying for his mouth to any god that was willing to listen.

The corner of his mouth twitches, before he gets even closer, your body pressed firmly to his as he lowers his head, fingers sliding under your chin to encourage you to tilt your head higher.

Your eyes shut eagerly as his lips brush yours. A spark like no other igniting within you.

You gasp at the gentleness of it, at the need in your body, chasing his mouth as he pulls back. 

His lips are so soft, full, he drops his head, sealing your mouths together.

You tilt your head, pulling back and smiling as you feel his mouth follow, a dance so desperate between you that it shouldn’t be this slow.

His beard scratches your cheek, tickles your lips, and you love every second of it.

You part your lips, eagerly swiping your tongue against his bottom lip and you hear him groan softly.

He pressed his forehead to yours to stop your kiss, breathing laboured.

“You’re playing with my sanity.” He whispers, pulling a smile from you.

He cups your face swiftly, pressing his mouth passionately to yours once more. You make a little sound of bliss, one hand trailing up to grip his shoulder.

.

He doesn’t know how he does it, but he forces himself to stop.

He doesn’t want to push you into anything you’re not ready for, and for once in his life, the panther agrees.

Ever since you’d asked to take it slow, the beast had stopped tormenting him with imagery of having you, concerned primarily with making sure you felt safe. The smell of your distress in the air constantly worried him. He wanted your comfort above everything else.

Love could wait.

After work on Friday, you ask him politely if it would be possible to take you over to your friend’s place. He doesn’t say no. He makes sure to reassure you that you’d be safe going there, and encourages you when you look unsure. 

This would be good for you, some semblance of normalcy in your life.

He keeps all his senses on high alert, listening for any sign that you might be being watched.

There’s nothing, and he wonders for a moment if the stalker knows to avoid him, if there’s some possibility that they know who he is- what he is.

He blinks, tilting his head deep in thought at the possibility, reminding himself to ask Dinah about it later.

Your friends are happy to see you, pulling you into a dual embrace the moment they can.

Billy stays back, an amused smile on his face. The apartment is full of various scents, sage and turmeric, a hint of cinnamon, and most importantly, the scent of a feline.

The sound of little jingles grow louder, emphasised by each little step, Billy finds himself smiling as the gorgeous grey maine coon comes into view.

He’s large for his breed and suspicious at first, at least until he senses the panther inside Billy. The next thing he knows is the cat is weaving figure eights around his legs.

He looks up to find all three women staring at him in surprise.

“How did you do that?” Amy asks, “Loki doesn’t usually take to strangers.”

Billy only lifts a shoulder, pretending to be as confused as everyone else was.

“It’s true,” You explain, “It took him months to even want to sit in the same room with me.”

The best he can do is pretend to be surprised that the cat is nice to him.

When they gather on the couch and invite him to sit as well, he accepts, sitting beside you, a small distance away to respect whatever boundaries you wanted.

You hadn’t spoken about it. Were you dating? Was this just a friendship? He didn’t think friends would kiss the way you kissed.

Maybe it was a- what were the kids calling it? A situationship? 

He didn’t like the concept of it.

He couldn’t worry about that now anyway, he thinks to himself as he watches you talk excitedly to your friends, he admires your hair, the look in your eyes as you speak, so expressive and wonderful in every way imaginable, his only concern right now, was making you feel comfortable in the world around you once more.

Something distracts him- a large weight pouncing into his lap.

He turns his head in surprise, the big green eyes of the maine coon staring back at him. 

Loki uses his little paws to climb Billy’s chest, so that he can rub the top of his furry head on Billy’s chin, the panther humming happily as the feline admires him.

He drops his head respectfully, letting him rub his head against Billy’s, a formal greeting.

When the cat is satisfied, it flops over, belly up and stares at Billy expectantly.

Billy chuckles inwardly, accepting the offer to scratch Loki’s tummy, admiring the soft fur of his underbelly.

He blinks, looking up realising that everyone has gone quiet, to find all eyes on him once more, the sweet scent of arousal in the air.

“What have you done to my cat?” Amy asks in disbelief. 

“I guess he just likes me.” Is all Billy can say.

Later, as he waits by the door as you bid your friends goodbye, he overhears Dani with his panther hearing, asking if  you and him were a couple now.

He holds his breath, waiting for the answer, looking down as you turn to look at him, pretending that he can’t hear the way your heart picks up in your chest.

“I don’t even know. I can’t help thinking that the only reason we’re close is because he feels sorry for me.”

He can feel his chest just split in half at the very thought of it.

.

.

.

#billy russo #werepanther #werepanther!billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #my writings #the punisher #monster!billy russo #angst #billy russo angst #comfort

[tojigasm]

I’m crossfaded right now but I need diff Jake x pregnant reader a combination and angst, fluff and smut I literally don’t care what it is please !! It will make the wake and bake hit

I'm so fuckin deranged. In so sorry for this. This is so evil. I went down an angsty route with this one. I wrote this to be a sequel to "Who am I to Love you"

It rots within him. A thorny, prickly weed burrowing itself in the thick of his mind. It pricks and prods at his thoughts, trickling down his spine in a sickly plague.

He bides the long days with time in the ocean. Learning the ways of the metkayina and spending time with his children. He's braiding seagrass when his mind crawls back to the metkayinas soul tree. The tree where he'd seen Neteyam soon after his death.

He wonders if you're there too.

"Daddy, you're not braiding it right." Tuk scolds from beside him, taking over the thick weed and finishing the fishtail with a knot at the end.

"Sorry, Tuk," Jake doesn't go to the tree.

—

"I know you're thinking of her." Neytiri speaks through a sigh, cutting pieces of fruit. She places her knife down to rest a hand on Jake's back.

"Thinking of who?" Jake hardly acknowledges her, finishing a thread of grass, cinching the dried weed into a fold.

"Dont–" Neytiri takes a sharp inhale through her nose. "Don't even."

Jake drops the padded grass to turn to her, "what?" He shrugs, "what do you want me to say?" He stands up to pace around the length of the hammock.

"My Jake," she speaks softly, massaging the skin of her arm in an attempt to comfort herself.

"You want me to go talk to her?" He points outward to the ocean, and Neytiri drops her head in defeat, braids swaying side to side. "You want me to go pour my heart out to my dead mate–

"Our." She chokes under her breath.

It's begin to rain.

"Y-you want me to attach myself to her again? Attach myself to the one thing that I can't come back from? If i go there, i won't leave." He shakes his head solemnly. "God only knows how hard it's been fr'me to not take a knife to my fuckin' throat." Jake's voice croaks and blubbers.

Neytiri looks up at him under her lashes. A deepened blue shadows her features, and her honey eyes run an amber heat to them. She stands up and meets him eye to eye.

Jake's crying.

"She was my mate too, Jake." There's a sickly hiss to the way his name is spit from her tongue. "Not just yours," her ears flatten back and her canines bear, "you suffer in silence, but I will not."

He watches her leave.

—

It's late past eclipse when Neytiri returns home. Wet footsteps make their way into the hammock and a breeze pulls him from his light sleep before she slots herself against his back.

Neytiri presses a kiss to the base of his neck, thumbing his braid gently.

"She misses you."

She knows he's awake. He knows that she knows. Even so, he doesn't say anything.

—

He waits along the surrounding rocks of the tree of souls for hours. Fiddling with sheets of rock and coral that spots the ground as though it were weeds.

He thinks about going back to the clan. Back to his children, back to his mate, and back to his home. And a part of him thinks back to the forest and the years before neytam had been born. He thinks back to you.

It's not a long swim to reach the sprouting limbs of the tree, making the bond with shaky hands.

There's a moment of darkness before the forest surrounds him. He walks through the heavy brush and thick plants, running the tips of his fingers over the small flowers that litter the forest. He remembers the flower crowns you'd made for him. He wishes that the petals would live forever. Instead, they rot away, trapped in a chest hidden within the hammock. They lost their color long ago.

"Jake?" Your voice calls to him near the pond, and he can see you as he rounds a thick tree.

"Hi, honey," he whispers. His voice is quiet and soft. He thinks he might cry.

You're glowing under the rays of sun that glitter along the forest floor. Capturing you in their wake and painting an almost infinite image of you.

You run to him, jumping into his arms so quickly he doesn't have time to react before the both of you fall to the floor. "I missed you!" You squeal through a giggle.

"Woah," Jake chuckles lightly, "missed you too, kid." He kisses your temple, wrapping his arms around you loosely as you laugh into his chest.

Rolling off of him with a giggle, you land on your back beside him, arms and legs outstretched through the thick blades of grass that tickle your thighs.

Jake props himself onto an elbow beside you, tracing over your soft features, taking in the glow of your excitement with a warm smile.

"I never see you anymore." You say, lifting a hand to trace your finger over the outline of a few clouds thay scatter the sky. "Are you mad at me?"

Jake physically recoils at your question, scoffing at the idea that you could ever do anything wrong, let alone lead him to be cross with you.

"No, I'm–I'm not mad at you," he follows it with a laugh, brows furrowing. He watches you roll to your side, meeting his eyes.

"Then why don't you see me?"

"It's not–"

"Neytiri comes to see me all the time. She's made bracelets with me, and she's so excited to have another baby!" You scrunch your nose in glee.

A lump crawls up Jake's throat and plants itself there. He nearly chokes on it.

"M'sure she is–"

"Do you not want another baby?"

The genuine innocence in your voice makes Jake want to scream. He wants to rip his hair out and bite his lips until they bleed and choke on his tongue and sit at the bottom of the shallow water until he just falls asleep there.

You don't know about Neyetam.

"Jake," you stroke the soft of his jaw softly, and his eyes fill with tears. "Are you okay?"

He doesn't even realize he's crying until you're cupping his face in your small hands.

"M'so scared, baby." Jake's voice shakes under the weight of his fear. It cracks, and it bubbles over.

You aren't quite sure what's happening, settling on pulling yourself closer to your mate, letting him hold you to him.

There's a long while of quiet, only filled by the soft strokes of Jake's hand along your stomach as he presses kisses to the back of your ear.

"Thinking of any names fr'the little squirt?" Jake asks, voice hoarse as he massages his thumb over your belly button.

You shake your head. "I was hoping you and Neytiri could figure something out. Maybe a mix of both of you guys' names?" You pull at your bottom lip.

Jake nods, eyes falling from your own to your lips. He kisses you gently, stroking a hand over your cheek and the other at your hip.

When you pull apart, he holds you in his lap again. "I like that idea," he offers, kissing your shoulder.

You nod, "what did you mean earlier?" You fiddle with your anklet, tracing the engrained 'J'.

"What do you mean?" Jake shrugs through a hum.

"When you said you were scared."

"Oh."

—

Jake tells you about Neteyam. He tells you about the metkayina. He tells you about the forest and the sky people and your ikran that still follows him around like a lost puppy.

He tells you about the ocean and the pretty talkun that come in waves and about Ronal and how the two of you'd be friends.

He tells you about how big Tuk's gotten and how much trouble Loak still causes. He tells you about Kiri and Eywa. He doesn't tell her about how Tuk braids exactly like you do, or how Kiri's picked up on your mannerisms, or the fact that Loak subconsciously still leaves extra pieces of food for you.

Jake sits with you for hours, letting you trickle and trace lines with the tips of your fingers over the stripes that litter his arms and ribs.

He lets you sing to him, and he hunts with you for the night.

And it's only when he's completely certain that you've fallen asleep that he pulls himself from the root of the tree.

He does so with a heaviness as he makes his way back to the clan. Back to the hammock and back to Neytiri and back to the rotted petals and braided flower crowns.

He knows you won't remember when he comes back to visit — if he comes back at all.

#jake sully #jake sully x reader #avatar #dilf jake sully

[stargirlsturniololover]

my babies as the seasons i associate them with

❄️🌺🌞🍁

- - - -

𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫

- - - -

johnnie guilbert

dark winter - black cat - snowed in - ice skating - black swan

archie madekwe

cozy winter - fairy lights - hot cocoa - deer - browns - kittens

- - - -

𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

- - - -

nick sturniolo

pastels - bike rides - tulip fields - baby animals - duckies - pink

chris sturniolo

picnic dates - green - swimming in ponds - pastries - cottages

- - - -

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫

- - - -

jake webber

tubing - nightly bonfires - lake days - hammocks - sunsets

drew starkey

pina coladas - boat rides - obx summer - summer homes

- - - -

𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥

- - - -

matt sturniolo

bears - cabin in the woods - forests - quilts - rivers - fire places

spencer reid

pumpkin patch - libraries - baking - little women - cozy nights

#sturniolo triplets #the sturniolos #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #star’s yappin #star’s roman empires #star’s moodboards☆✩⁂ #johnnie guilbert <3 #archie madekwe #drew starkey #jake and johnnie #jake webber #spencer reid

[uncharismatic-fauna]

The Smooth Newt with the Smooth Moves

Also known as the European newt, northern smooth newt, or common newt (Lissotriton vulgaris), the smooth newt is one of the most common species in Europe and western Asia. It is also the only newt species found in Ireland. There are currently three recognised subspecies distributed throughout this range, and four others have been reclassified as distinct species. The common newt is able to survive in a variety of habitats, including deciduous and coniferous forests, wetlands, meadows, parks, and gardens. Their only requirements are sufficient sunlight and water with sufficient vegetation.

Like most newts, the northern smooth newt spends the majority of its time foraging for food on land. Their diet is carnivorous, consisting of insects, worms, snails, slugs, and larvae. When available, L. vulgaris may also eat the eggs of its own species. In turn, many animals prey on the European newt, including waterbirds, snakes, frogs, and larger newts. To avoid these predators the smooth newt is active mainly at night, and will secrete a toxic mucus when threatened. While active, they are largely solitary but from October to March several individuals will hibernate together under logs or leaf litter burrows.

Almost as soon as the common newt emerges from hibernation, they begin migration to their breeding sites-- usually the ponds in which they spawned. Males undergo a dramatic transformation, growing large crests and becoming brightly colored. When a female enters the water, the male swims around her and sniffs her cloaca. He then vibrates his tail to fan his pheromones towards her. Finally, he will swim away and, if the female is interested, she will follow him. He then deposits a packet of sperm, or spermatophore, that the female picks up for fertilization. Rival males may try to lead the female towards their own spermatophores, and clutches of eggs often have multiple fathers.

Females deposit anywhere from 100 to 500 eggs, each of which is carefully wrapped in aquatic vegetation. Larvae hatch after only 20 days, and quickly begin developing. Unlike frogs and toads, newt larvae have external, feathery gills, and develop their front legs first. After about three months, the larvae absorb their gills and leave the water as newtlets or efts. However, when temperatures are particularly low and aquatic prey is abundant, some adults retain their gills and stay aquatic in a phenomenon known as paedomorphism. These adults are fully capable of sexual reproduction, and when moved to areas with a larger population will often metamorphose into terrestrial adults.

Adult smooth newts are rather small, reaching only 9–11 cm (3.5–4.3 in) and 0.3–5.2 g (0.011–0.183 oz). Males are slightly larger than females. The head and back are dark brown or olive, while the underside is much lighter. Both males and females have dark spots on their bellies, and males also sport a bright orange stripe. In the spring, the colors in males become more vivid and the spots grow larger. Males also develop a large yellow crest that runs from the head to the table, and is dotted with dark bands.

Conservation status: The IUCN has designated the European newt as Least Concern, as it is common over most of its range. Threats include habitat destruction and the introduction of invasive fish species.

If you like what I do, consider leaving a tip or buying me a ko-fi!

Photos

Philip Precey

Derek Middleton

Christoph Moning via iNaturalist

Kristýna Coufalová via iNaturalist

#common newt #smooth newt #Urodela #Salamandridae #newts #salamanders #amphibians #deciduous forests #deciduous forest amphibians #evergreen forests #evergreen forest amphibians #grassland birds #grassland amphibians #wetlands #wetland amphibians #urban fauna #urban amphibians #europe #asia #west asia #animal facts #biology #zoology

[fl3shm4id3n]

𝕱𝖎𝖗𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖂𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖗

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐓𝐬𝐚𝐡𝐢𝐤, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐓𝐬𝐚𝐡𝐢𝐤, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐓𝐬𝐚𝐡𝐢𝐤. 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴀᴏ'ɴᴜɴɢ x ɢɴ! ɴᴀ'ᴠɪ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ɴᴇᴛᴇʏᴀᴍ  

ꜱᴏɴɢ: ꜱᴀᴅᴇ - ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ᴛᴀᴛᴛᴏᴏ

Tw: self doubt, dead body preparation, funerals, emotional, jealousy, Ao’nung shooting his shot with reader. Jealous Neteyam. 

Author’s note: I thought that you guys should see more of reader’s/yn’s emotions. I think I made them into a combination of Isabella and Luisa from Encanto. A  Ahuizotl is the size of a dog, but here they’re as big as a thanator which apparently 20 feet

P.s. Also should y/n go visit the metkayina clan?

Masterlist

You had woken up early in the morning, the sun was barely peaking out the sky. You had slipped on a dark colored top, a dark brown waist huipil skirt with red and brown beads that hanged. You also had slipped put on a red, black and white poncho on to avoid the morning cool breeze. After you had added on your jewelry, you walked out of the home, with a saddle in hand. 

You saw how others had also woken up early for a hunt, you weren’t going for a hunt, you just wanted to go clear your head. You walked through the forest behind the pyramid. Their was a body of water in which some Ahuizotl hung out, mainly yours, Yolotli and Eztli’s. “ Ki'ichpanil “ you called out, then you saw something peaking out of the water, then a creature immerged out, walking towards you. Ki'ichpanil was now in front of you, you stroked her head causing her to purr. “ Táak wáaj a ts'aik jump'éel xíimbal.” Want to go for a ride? You asked the creature purring loudly. You placed the saddle on her back, tightening it. 

Now with the saddle on, you claimed into her back, then launched your queue onto the antenna behind her ear. You both took off, Ki'ichpanil ran around the forest, taking difficult obstacles like normally since you love them. You felt the air run through your body as your companions ran faster like the wind. You laughed to yourself, feeling free from any kind of responsibility at the moment, you felt free from everything and everyone. No duties and no people to please but yourself. You had stopped at a little beach, you had hoped off  Ki'ichpanil, and sat on the side, while your companions went towards the ocean to swim around. 

You sat down on cool wet sand, relaxed smelling the salty water. Looking over the horizon, you had always wondered what you’d come across if you were to ever leave the island go explore. That was a wish you had, to explore all of Pandora. You’ve meet other small islands with other fire based clans, but you just knew that you there were more clans than just fire clans. You sat just there, thinking of nothing, just listening to the sounds of the waves.

After a while, you had gone back, when you left  Ki'ichpanil in her pond with the rest of the Ahuizotl, you returned home. You greeted your family who had been waiting for you to return so that they could eat. Once you sat down you began to eat. Your mother had mentioned that she needed you to accompany her before anything else. When finished, you left with your mother, you assumed it most have been for your Tsahik lessons.

Yoloti had met up with Eztli along with Ao’nung and Neteyam back in the field. Yolotli saw that Eztli had been with the pair of boys, the tall na’vi had been really close to Neteyam. “Hello” Yolotli said offering them a smile, they all turn to her, only to see that she was alone. “Where is y/n?” Ao’nung ask. “Oh, they had to go with mother, she had Tsahik lessons this morning, I don’t know how long she’ll be out” she responded, then Eztli chimed in “We can wait for her, we both know she’s better at this” she said, Yolotli nodded in agreement. “Well, since we’re waiting” she walk over to where they were sitting, on the ground. “Since you both already know much about us, would you please share what is like back in you r home?” She asked, now getting Eztli’s curiosity. “Yeah, I want to know too” Both Neteyam and Ao’nung looked at each other, then they began to speak.

You had been with your mother, apparently someone had died and the body needed to be prepared. This was your first time ever preparing a body, you have watched your mother do it, but now it was you who had to do it. You began to fill the na’vi’s mouth with a piece of corn and a piece of jade, as you did, you had been saying a prayer, along the lines, the same one your mother would say. Now you were wrapping the body with a cloth made out of cotton. You were now finished with the wrapping along with the prayer.

“The ceremony will be done tomorrow tonight, everyone must and will attend.” Your mother had said to you along with the other na’vis who had helped by bringing the materials. “She is with on their way to Eywa, we will make sure she gets to her, for now, be with her” you said to the family. They bowed their heads and muttered a thank you, both you and your mother along with the helpers walked out of the family’s home, to let them be with their grandmother before her journey to Eywa. 

Your mother dismissed the helpers, telling them to go spread the word about tonight’s ceremony you will be performing. “Well done my child, you did well” your mother said facing you. You smiled at her “thank you mother” you said as she leaned down and kissed your forehead. “Now run along, your lessons are over for now” she said, you nodded and went to look for your little group.

You saw went to ask Neytiri and Ronal about their sons, in which they told you that they were with Yolotli and Eztli. You bid them a thank you then left to look for them. You found them in the field you were yesterday, they were all sitting in a circle. “What are you guys gossiping about?” you interrupted getting their attention. Yolotli smiled “hey y/n! how was today’s lessons?” she asked as you sat between Neteyam and Ao’nung, you noticed how Eztli had been sitting too close to Neteyam but just ignored it. “It was okay, someone died, and the ceremony will be performed tomorrow.” You said out of the blue, catching everyone of guard. “Oh no, I hope the family is doing well” Yolotli said sympathetically. “Well, now that we’re here, lets get started! Ima show you how do the Águila k'áak'” Fire Eagle, you said getting up from your spot and walked over to the fire cauldron. Yolotli then translates the word to the confused males. “Fire Eagle”.

You lifted the lid that had been covering the fire, the fire was still somehow lit. “Okay, another thing I forgot to mention. Fire is a very strong element, there for if you have strong emotions, then the fire will act out based on your emotions.” You said as you then had grabbed some fire into your hands. The fire was small in your hands, but you had let it run across both your arms, you were focused on letting the flame run across your arms. Then your attention caught how Eztli had been having a quiet conversation with Neteyam, it shouldn’t of bothered you but It did. Your anger was getting the best of you. The flames across your arms had got larger, the fire had now turned blue instead of red then your hair burst into flames. 

Ao’nung and Yolotli had been watching you the whole time, Ao’nung had been watching in awe, while Yolotli noticed your mood change. Your face was now of anger and their was no hiding it. Then Eztli and Neteyam looked over at you, seeing that your flames were now blue and it surrounded your arms and hair. “This is what I was talking about!” you said, starting to calm down and your flames had gone smaller along changing back to normal. You gave them a tight forced smile, trying to hide your frustration. “Anyone of our guests wants to go first?” 

“I’ll go” Neteyam said, then Eztli stepped in “I can help him” she said but Yolotli spoke out “I think its best that y/n shows him” she said as Eztli just nodded. Neteyam walked over at you and followed what you had did. “Okay, relax and let the fire run through your body” you instructed him. You watched him relax, he had closed his eyes after he took a deep breath. You stared at him, you couldn’t help but think that he is handsome, very handsome when he had his eyes closed. “Now, think of something, anything, whatever emotion you get from that you think, let it out” you had said. You watched how focused he was, then his facial expression changed, you weren’t sure what he was thinking about, but from his expression, he seemed upset. Then the flames on his arms had got bigger and they also turned blue, the blue flame really matched his blue skin, he loved even better. Then he opened his eyes and had met your red ones. “Nice one, you’re a natural” you had said, making his cheeks go purple.

He gave you a toothy smile “thank you” he said, as Ao’nung had approached, interrupting your little moment. “My turn” Ao’nung said loudly, Neteyam sent him a glare before departing from you. Ao’nung had grabbed the flame and began to do what you had done before. “I see that Neteyam’s getting to close to Eztli.” He said as you turn over to look at them, laughing and smiling with Yolotli. “Yeah, she is one of the strongest warriors in our age, she’d be the best for sure” you mentioned, seeing that Ao’nung had been staring at you, not focusing on his lesson, more focused on you. “Could you show me around the Island later tonight maybe? Just me and you?” he asked, with a small smile on his face. You continued to look at both Eztli and Neteyam interact, then turned your attention towards Ao’nung. “Yeah, I could do that” you said, sending him a grin. 

It had been going on like this for the remaining of the day. Both Neteyam and Ao’nung had learned how to control fire, it was a bit complicated when it came to other sorts of movements. Yolotli had thought them how to calm their fire when it came to intense, you had encouraged both Ao’nung and Neteyam to spar for a bit. Eztli had a sparing session with Neteyam, since she was stronger and bigger than the forest boy, she had the upper hand. Then it was you and Ao’nung who decided to spar, he was good in hand to had combat, but just like Eztli you had the upper hand and had Ao’nung pinned to the ground, making each other laugh. You missed how Neteyam looked over at the both of you, seeing how you and Ao’nung were a bit to close to his liking.

It had gone to sunset, that whole day you had been teaching the boys other stuff they could do with fire. Eztli had taken Neteyam to meet her sisters, and Yolotli had gone back home. You and Ao’nung were left to go get Ki'ichpanil, when you had got to the pond, you had called for her. The Ahuizotl had jumped out of the pond, Ao’nung’s eyes widen, seeing how big the creature was. “It’s okay, she doesn’t bite... most of the time” you said, as you had put the saddle onto her back. “ Ko'ox ts'aik uláak' xíimbal “ We’re going for another ride, you said scratching the back of her ears, making her purr. You got onto her back then looked over at Ao’nung “what are you waiting for?” you said, as he walked over a bit nervous by the creature.

Then you got a hold of his hand and pulled him up, sitting behind you. “You might want to hold onto me” you said as then Ki'ichpanil took off. Ao’nung then wrapped his arms around your waist tightly, this made you laugh. While he hanged onto you, now that the sky had been painted black, with stars and the moon. Ao’nung saw how the plants along with other smile creatures glowed in the dark. He was fascinated seeing this, the ocean plants glowed, but this looked almost the same. He also noticed your light colored freckles had been glowing as well.

Finally, you both arrived at the beach, you got off your Ahuizotl, also helping Ao’nung get down. You walked over to where you sat that morning, but with Ao’nung next to you. It was silent, only listening to the ocean waves. “I didn’t think you’d like the beach” Ao’nung mentioned, he noticed how the water glowed a red and orange color instead of a blue. “This place makes me feel relaxed, no responsibilities or to show a face that hides how I feel” you blurted out without thinking, you didn’t know why you just told him that, you normally kept your feelings to your self or when talking to Ki'ichpanil or  precioso (precious) your Ni’awve. “I know that feeling” Ao’nung admitted. You both sat in silence, enjoying the sounds of the waves. You looked at him, you gave him a better look. You looked at him before, but this time it felt intimate, as if you saw more of him than you should. “ Ba'axten jach guapo teech.“  Why are you so handsome? you quietly asked yourself, but this time he had heard you. “What did you say?” you looked away fast. “Nothing, its just a habit of mine” you said. Ao’nung chuckled. “You really need to teach me how to speak Yucatec” he said, making you chuckle. “I don’t think you’re ready” you said, Ao’nung then looked at you with a raised brow. “Says who? I am a fast leaner” he said now chuckling. “Says me, I am your tutor, so I decide” you both just laughed. 

Ao’nung had returned, he had ate some fruit that you had found during your outing. Neytiri and his mother had been asleep by now, he quietly walked over to his hammock next to his mother’s that was one side of the hut, trying not to wake anyone. “Where were you?” Ao’nung looked over at the opossite side, seeing that Neteyam was in the hammock that was also next to his mother. “I was with y/n, they were showing me around the island” he whispered at the forest na’vi. “This late?” Neteyam asked, with a series look on his face. “What is it to you? You were busy with Eztli” Ao’nung hissed at him, then got on his hammock “goodnight” he said. Neteyam hissed as he then moved to get comfortable in his hammock, he was not liking this, he had a feeling that something was happening between you and Ao’nung.

Taglist: @1witch-hybrid1, @luvlykrispy, @luvkeu, @ssc7514, @spqce-buns, @eywaheardyou, @blueberry-thrawn , @zatarias-pandora, @randomspamposts, @itsthetiss65, @khaleesihavilliard, @aonungs-tsahik, @sugarrush-blush​, 

#avatar the way of water #avatar 2022 #avatar x reader #avatar x you #avatar x y/n #atwow #atwow x reader #polyamarous #neteyam sully #ao'nung #ao'nung x reader x neteyam #poly ao'nung #poly neteyam #poly reader #poly ao'nung x poly reader x poly neteyam #fire na'vi #fire navi reader #fire na'vi y/n #fire na'vi oc #Yolotli #Eztli #Nicte #Fire and Ash Series #aphrodite's writing

[after-witch]

The Weight of Water [Yandere Nokken x Reader]

The Weight of Water [Yandere Nokken x Reader]

Synopsis: You’re lost in the woods, when you sense something familiar. You follow it--you’re already lost, after all. What harm could it do?

For Horrorfest request:  Nokken (folklore creature) + Hydrophobia

Word count: 1713

notes: possessive/yandere-ish themes, reader being ill-prepared to go camping and exhibiting terrible horrible forest skills, don’t be like reader!!

The branch that takes you down was hidden under leaves and brush, but it did its job well enough--sending you flying forward, knees skinning against rocks, hands splaying and aching with scratches before you’re even cognizant enough to push yourself off the ground.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

You hate camping. You hate the woods. You hate these woods, in particular, because they are too dense and dark and confusing. That’s how you got lost in them in the first place.

You were trying to walk back to the car to get your extra phone charger, and the directions your friends gave were simple enough. In theory.

But you never made it to the car, and now you can’t even find your way back. You can’t even call them to ask for help because--well. That’s why you needed the phone charger in the first place.

And although it’s daytime, the woods are still dim, too thick with trees to let much sunlight through.

And now you’re sprawled out on the ground, palms and knees aching with the sting of scrapes, leg sore. You sit up, wiping mud onto your pants, and press some tentative weight down on it.

It hurts, but not much. It’s not broken. Hopefully.

“Shit.. Shit shit shit, fuck--” you take a breath. “And fuck.”

Slowly, carefully, you get off the ground. Your leg is sore, but you don’t think it’s strained or twisted. Thankfully. That would make your terrible problem even worse. But as you take a few more tentative steps, you get a whiff of something strange. No, not strange.

Something familiar.

You’re not sure what it is yet. Something from childhood, maybe. Something at the edge of your mind, teasing, fluttering.

You take a step to the right, and the scent gets stronger. Just a little.

You shouldn’t follow it, but… what can it hurt? You’re already lost. You’ll just turn around once you find out what it is.

As you walk forward, the pain in your leg begins to fade, which makes you feel a little better. At least you’re not lost in the woods with a bum ankle. You keep a better eye out now for branches and hazards--no need to push your luck twice.

The smell, as it grows, isn’t exactly unpleasant. It’s not sewage or rot, but there’s something stagnant about it. Stagnant and yes, familiar, you’ve encountered it before. Intimately. It’s filled your lungs and nose and--

The trees clear, just a little, and right in your field of vision is a small lake backed by a solid wall covered in creeping ivy and moss. The lake was just a bit too big to be called a pond. The water is somewhat murky (you wouldn’t dare drink from it) but the sight of it, the smell, the way the dim light reflects off the water…

It all comes rushing back.

When you were little, you almost drowned in one of these small, murky lakes.

Since then, you’ve avoided them--not that you usually had much chance to encounter small bodies of water, given your dislike of camping in general. Still, that subconscious avoidance was there. You never walked down to the lake when you went to the park with friends. You felt your body clench in fear every time you drove around curves of one of many local lakes. You never went swimming in them, of course.

And now, here it was, and here you were. And like deja vu for some lost childhood game that hits you in the middle of the workday, it covers you in those familiar feelings from long ago. The cold fear as you realized you were caught on something below the surface.

The tug of something wet--seaweed, or whatever amounts to seaweed in a lake--on your ankle. The sting of the water in your nose. The weight of it as you were dragged down again and again, as it filled your lungs. The complete blank of thoughts--you weren’t thinking about dying,  you weren’t pleading for help, you were simply drowning and that was that.

You shiver, despite the moderate weather. You don’t want to be by this lake, with its tinged waters, its floating lily-pads, its secrets.

You’re about to turn away, unsatisfied and a little thrown-off by the unpleasant discovery, when a sound catches your ear.

It’s soft. A thrumming, a hum. An animal, maybe, or a bird of some kind? But no, it’s too long for that, too constant.

It sounds like a violin.

In the middle of the woods?

That cold fear--and you’ve felt it, before--makes your bowels clench. Was someone in the woods with you?

And then you scoff at yourself. Of course there were other people in the woods. It was open for campsites, even if you’d clearly lost yours. There were probably dozens of people camping this weekend. You’d clearly come close to someone else’s camp, and they were a musician. What better place to play than the open woods, with no neighbors to bang in your door and complain?

It’s a good thing, actually. Because you can just follow the sound of the violin to this other camp, and ask them for help. Win-win. If they can’t help you find your way to your own camp, you could at least contact one of your friends.

(Your mind flits--you can’t remember anyone’s phone numbers. You hear your mom’s voice in the back of your head: ‘I told you! Keep an address book and memorize some of the numbers! You’ll regret it one day.’ Long gone were the days of memorizing your BFFs phone number so you could call them immediately after school. But! You can remember your Facebook password, so you could message one of your friend’s on Facebook Messenger. Take that, mom.)

Buoyed by the sound, you take a step, straining your ears to see what direction it’s coming from. Left or right or forward or backward or…

The sound is louder. But it’s curious. Weird.

The music was coming from the direction of the lake.

Maybe there was a path beyond the solid rock, a way around? You begin to walk around the perimeter, steering well clear of the edge. With lakes like these, you never knew how solid the ground around them was. You definitely didn’t want to fall into some dim lake, alone, in the woods.

Yet as you walk, one thing becomes clearer and clearer. You aren’t getting closer to the music or some hidden campground, because the music isn’t coming from behind the lake or somewhere deeper in the forest. The music is deeper, mired... murky.

The music coming from underneath the water.

The thought comes strong and clear, as if it’s not coming from your own head but someone else’s lips. And maybe it did.

Your legs freeze. You want to leave. You want to go back the way you came, away from the water, away from the semi-stagnant smell, away from the very sound of the lake, away from the dim music that is coming from an impossible place.

It doesn’t matter if you’re still lost in the woods, as long as you’re away from here.

But you can’t. You can’t run. You can’t even walk.

You can’t move your legs. Why can’t you move your legs?

And in the instant terrible fear overtakes you, the music gets louder, closer, and it becomes harder to think about the terror that you’re feeling. You hear a sound from the lake, dripping or splashing, the soft trickle of movement. The music gets closer, and as it gets closer, you feel your heart begin to calm.

It’s beautiful music. Warm and inviting. Crystal clear. Not like the water at all, is it?

Your body begins to sway of its own accord. You could dance to this music, and that would be all right. Then you wouldn’t be afraid. You wouldn’t even mind if it got closer now… but it can’t move any further, you realize, somehow.

But you can. You can move now.

The music is like a hand, gentle and firm, interlocking with your fingers and pulling you closer.

Don’t you want to go closer?

You do. You want the music to take away your fears, to make this all seem okay. Your feet drag just a little, some part of you still aware enough to resist, but they move all the same.

Closer and closer to the water, where lily pads have waded almost to the shoreline of the lake. There was no breeze, but they came anyway, seemingly of their own accord.

One lily pad rises off the water, and you realize they are not simply lily pads at all. They’re attached to something. Someone?

A green man, green and blue skin that has a slight sheen to it, like the water itself. His hair is black and long, with a lily pad tucked into it, like a young girl might tuck a daisy behind her ear. He is handsome, even though he isn’t. He wears no clothing, and you can almost see the entirety of his naked chest.

In his hands is a violin--the music--but it’s silent now, and in the moments of silence you gather your wits.

He wants you. For ill or good or something undetermined.  But he wants you forever and if you don’t run…

He smiles at you, as these thoughts come, as the horror crosses your features once more. His lips are dark and his smile is darker. Before any conscious decision can be made on your part,  he takes up his violin again. The feeling that grasps you now is no gentle guidance, but a firm grip. Like something slimy wrapped around your ankle, pulling you down.

You have to go to him. It’s inevitable. You were meant to be lost in these woods, and to walk into this lake, and then…

Your heart begins to thump wildly inside your chest, and there, there again is that familiar sensation. No clear thoughts. No pleading. No cries for help. Simply the blank reality that becomes surer and surer as you step towards the edge of the lake, as you take step upon step into the cool water, as you feel his dripping arms wrap around you.

You were drowning, and that was that.

#yandere #folklore #folklore writing #afterwitch writes #aw horrorfest #original stuffs

[writingpencil]

The Drop Outs

The original concept was that a boarding school was kidnapping selectively bred kids with powers, train them into being super soldiers, and abuse them into an unstoppable army

But many of the kids escape one night and learn to live together on an island

Bang! Bang! Bang! 

“Vade! Vade!”

The guns fired off into the inky dark night, bullets ricocheting against the trees. Others sunk deep into the bloody flesh of humans, who fell to the ground all void of hope of ever escaping. Duck, they said, for the guards aim for the head. Dodge, they said, the thick forest is your friend. Dive, they said, play dead and you may just live. The younger children listened as best they could: ducking, and dodging, and diving, so that they may survive the night.

“Vade! Vade!” A blonde girl, just reaching seventeen, was shrieking as loud as she could. She sprinted, bare-foot, through the forest as her wild curls flew behind her. The guards gladly chased her, shooting but finding that the blonde was faster. Every part of the forest looked familiar, adrenaline was her only guide. She continued to scream - Vade! Vade! - and everyone’s blood went cold when her screaming was cut off.

Several of the mice managed to find a large pond, seeming to surround the thick forest. A few of the older children started swimming with the younger ones on their backs. The youngers who could swim were afraid to do so, unsure if stepping into the abyss of the pond would be safer then simply hiding. There was no time to argue. A redhead teenager sent the others off, taking the terrified children away. The redhead found a small part of the forest that was overhanging the pond. He went down first, finding the section not too deep for most of the children, there were even large stones above the water. All the more cautious, the redhead held the two kids whose heads were over the water, covering the mouth of the one who cried.

The redhead near gripped the child’s mouth, firmly keeping them quiet as a gun went off above them. The small group jumped, latching onto each other, when the body of a little boy plunged into the water. The redhead bit his lip, praying to every merciful star in the sky to not be found. 

“Aye, boss, do we grab the body?” 

A familiar voice responded, one deep and sadistic: “What is a corpse going to do? Any power that kid might’ve had is gone now. Let’s leave the other bodies for the vultures. That’s the only good any of those kids bring is feeding the damn animals.”

“Say, boss, do you think Dr. Boham is going to be upset-” Voices began getting distant, much to the relief of the redhead. However, he refused to leave the overhedge. The redhead set the two children he held on some of the rocks. The crying little girl only sniffled now, a few bruises forming on her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry,” The redhead whispered, sitting down among the children. “Shh… shh… it’s okay… they’ll heal up, promise…” 

The little girl clung to the redhead, crying into his shirt. He comforted her as best as he could, but it was in vain - the girl cried herself to sleep. The redhead looked among the other children, seeing the adrenaline fade from their eyes in exchange for exhaustion. Sleep, he told them, tomorrow is another day.

~

Blood was still soaking into the ground, crimson feeding the earth. The gentle dawn was met with bodies, haphazardly killed in no particular pattern. None were moved, yet all were cold. Down in the little overhedge, the redhead, still awake, stared out at the light blue water and fog. He was exhausted, but the idea that the children could fall in the water kept him up. So, he merely waited. 

The redhead slowly blinked, the feeling of being detached from himself loomed. He was so close to graduating, and no part of him felt completely whole. He could barely grasp anything. The redhead glanced around all the children, never moving from his spot. His mossy green eyes looked down at the child he still held. Her bruises had darkened, becoming black and blue. Guilt swelled in him. It was the right thing to do, he knew that, they all would’ve been killed if he hadn’t - the redhead knew this. Yet that overwhelming feeling of guilt still presented itself. Was it truly the situation that made the girl cry? Or was it him?

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing #creative writing #writers #writer #long post #prompts #writing prompt #writing inspiration #writing ideas #writing prompts

[victorsandvanquishers]

The Red House (and all who live in its walls) - Chapter 1

Fandom: DC Comics

Ships: Bart Allen/Kon El; past Kon El/Tana Moon

Ratings: M+

Warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers; Gothic Horror; Southern Gothic; Psychological/Body Horror; Past Underage; Implied/Referenced Child Abuse; Child Neglect; Demons; Childhood Trauma; Psychological Trauma; Human/Monster Romance; Suicide Ideation; Alcohol Abuse; Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms

Story Synopsis: When former child star and Metropolis sweetheart Kon 'Superboy' El loses the last vestiges of his career to rampant partying and a budding alcohol addiction, he's forced to move into an old house in the Georgian woods because he can't afford his apartment or his bills anymore. Never the quitter, Kon embraces the crumbling antebellum house and all of its possibilities.

Except a house is never just a house, is it? Nor is a forest just a view, or a pond a makeshift swimming pool. When things start to go bump during the day and night, Kon wonders if his new home is more than just a fixer-upper.

But he's made a friend! Kinda. It's the most annoying man he's ever met in his life, but it's his only friend for miles on end. He's got dark brown hair and plain brown eyes, and he's a friend, Kon thinks. But where the heck does he live? And why is he always around when Kon's feeling less than good, and one bad phone call away from drowning himself in a bottle? Dude's gotta have better things to do than to join Kon during his morning workout, right?

Right?

[Bart Allen/Kon El, No Powers AU, gothic horror romance]

~~~

I was looking to practice my short-ficcing skills this years, and after shitposting BartKon clownery for months, I decided I was going to commit to at least one of my one million plot bunnies.

Chapters can run anywhere from 500 to 2,000 words, aided by visual prompts, standard Gothic horror tropes, and the weather. This story will run through the duration of 2024 and end sometime in December. Updates are sporadic, but the BartKon clownery is forever. There will be plenty of grotesque situations, and I promise you horrid amounts of blood and screwing in not-so-safe-places.

Mind the tags on the tin, and enjoy the first chapter. Don't forget to leave a review! :'>

#bartkon #konbart #kon el #bart allen #superboy #impulse #young justice #dubbilex #avafanfics

[eddiemunsonsdrug]

The Missing Link | Steve Harrington

Summary: Steve knew Hawkins would drag him back one day or another, but coming back because Dustin was missing was almost something out of a nightmare.

warnings: I think like one cuss word? (also eddie lives tho hes not in this part)

A/N: I had this dream for this story, trying to spread the ideas into a somewhat series, I hope you enjoy. please let me know if you like it as it is more on the serious side.

words: 2555

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

Steve could feel the dread in his chest fill long before he even saw the town limit sign marking the welcome of the town of Hawkins. How he absolutely loathed this place, the small town he once called home, a place he figured he would never leave, a place he used to love with pride.

But he knew deep down one day this place would drag him back.

He switched his radio off as he passed the metal sign and released a deep seeded, frustrated sigh.

“Come on man, where are you.” He muttered to himself as the trees passed him in a blur.

He had gotten a frantic call from Dustin’s mom hoping he had heard from the boy, maybe he had run off to see Steve at his college, hide away somewhere safe. But when he let her know that he hadn’t heard from him in a while the panic set in. Dustin was missing. At first Steve was hopeful that he had just gotten lost in the woods the night before, or maybe when he was still missing, he had gotten into something only Dustin could understand. But after a week had gone by with no sight or sound from him, he knew nothing was that simple. Not with any of the group.

Steves heart began to pound loudly in his chest as his heart rate rose when the buildings of downtown began to come into sight, downtown was still being pieced back together, broken windows, boarded up doors and roads still paving the enormous cracks. Everything about Hawkins still felt ominous.

Though it had been 3 years since the final battle with Vecna, this town would never be the same again.

Steve soon found himself at the back of town and turning down a dirt road, more forest zooming past his eyeline as his car rumbled against the rocks and roots of the large trees. His car began to fight back on the steep hills enough that he decided to pull off to the side and leave his car, making the rest of the short way on foot.

It was nice outside, Steve wanted to yell at the sky, why should it be this beautiful out when something so horrible is happening. He pushed himself to the top of the hill, a short path leading to a pond was blocked off by police cars, something in Steve's stomach churned, it all felt too familiar from when Will went missing, though that was now ancient history.

As he made his way to the cars and cops a few heads turned, a body moved to block him. “Sorry son, this area is currently off limits.” Steve opened his mouth to speak but was swiftly cut off before he could utter a word. “Its alright Nicolson, I called him here.” The familiar gruff voice came into view and Steve couldn’t stop the goosebumps that spread across his skin. “Its good to see you, Steve.” Steve looked Hopper directly in the eyes, he had no patience for the small talk this town had to offer. “This is where he last was?” Hopper grabbed the rim of his hat before nodding. “That’s what Will said, they were smoking.” Hopper can’t help but roll his eyes at the thought. When did these kids get old enough to be doing these types of things?

“It was dark, they all started to head home, Dustin was behind them one second, next he wasn’t. They have no idea where he could have gone.” Hopper’s voice quieted at the end. “This is just to give some ease to his mother; I don’t believe he’s in there.” Hopper nodded towards the scummy pond. Steve nodded, Dustin knows how to swim and even still he’s not stupid enough to get into water in the dark of night. Not after the things they’ve seen.

Officer Powel soon came up to the both of them. “Hop, you sure this is a good idea? Shouldn’t we call like the FBI?”

“No.” Both Hopper and Steve griped at the same time. “No more government crap, they never do any good to this town.” Hopper announced. “Besides.” Hopper said before quickly wrapping his arm around Steves shoulder and squeezing him assuredly. “We have the captain of the swim team of 1984 here.” Steve awkwardly let his arms hang limply in front of him from the strange embrace. “Co-captain.”  He muttered out. “What?” Hopper asked leaning his ear down to Steves face. “Co-captain of the swim team.” He announced louder.

Hopper straightened, pausing. “CO-captain! The co-captain of the swim team.” Hopper gave a strained smile as he released Steve from his arm. Steve stumbled forward a bit before Officer Powel meandered away. As Steve began to walk towards the pond Hopper followed suit. “I thought you said you were captain.” He growled in a low voice as to not attract anymore unnecessary attention on the two of them. “You never specifically asked.” Steve all but snapped back.

Less than half an hour back in Hawkins and he was already being lectured. Though he didn’t look back at the brick wall of a man, he assumed he was rolling his eyes and wondering if he had made the right choice to call him back here.

Steve stood at the edge of the pond and scanned his eyes over the scum sitting atop the water, there was no sight of displacement among it. One officer came up behind him before sliding fabric on top of his head. “This will help you see anything down there, though it shouldn’t be too dark.” Steve nodded as he fixed the headlamp to the top of his head properly and pressed the button, turning it on and off again making sure it worked.

“How long can you hold your breath?” The unknown cop asked as Steve stripped his sweater off and tossed it to the floor of the forest. “A little bit over a minute.” He replied hoping to ease the officers worried look. “If you see anything down there, come up and tell us. Don’t touch it.” He ordered like Steve was an officer in training, he gave him a simple nod before sliding his sweats down, his green swim trunks coming into view. Hopper moved to give him one last assuring clap on his shoulder. “You got this kid.” Internally Steve was holding back on correcting him, he was a fully grown adult at this point in his life but he knew it was a sign of respect from Hopper.

He stepped towards the end of the jagged rocks and looked down, he reached up to click on the head lamp before stepping into the brisk water, a shiver ran up his spine as he went deeper and deeper into said pond, the scum moving out of his way as he waded in deeper and deeper, he took a final breath in before plunging himself down into the murky water.

It took a moment before the waters temperature ceased from distracting his body and he could open his eyes, the light barely helping in the gray water. He continued to move; the bottom of the pond filled with slicked, greasy rocks. A few dug awkwardly into his foot as he pushed forward, he squinted as if that would help his sight but, as he reached one of the walls of rocks he could see something, something neon.

Steve clenched his jaw tightly as his heart began to pound in his ears, either from the bit of fear that shot into his chest or the lack of air, he wouldn’t know. He inched closer and forced his body lower to get the object into view. As the dim light shone over it, it came into clear view. A hat. A hat, white in the front, neon green at the sides and the lid. Written on it in a computer like font it read Computer Camp.

Steve went to reach for it for a moment before remembering the words of the cop above him. Don’t touch it, don’t grab it, as badly as you want to. His eyes closed tightly as his body pushed to move upwards. Fuck. He finally reached the top of the water, wading lightly with his legs in the still water. “I found something!” He shouted over the chatter of the police force.

A few heads turned before Hopper stormed over, crouching down he looked Steve coldly and directly in his eyes. “You’re sure?” His voice was stern yet quiet, he was making sure Steve wasn’t seeing something he wanted to see. Steve was still catching his breath as he nodded. “I’m sure Hop.” He bit his tongue as he fought back the emotions swelling in him. What did this mean, was he somewhere in there? Did an animal get him? Or worse…

Hopper held out his hand, Steve took it instantly and allowed himself to be dragged from the water. A few officers moved to place head lamps on themselves along with gloves. Would that be necessary? Would there be anything on there to help track Dustin?

Steve stood frozen, the haze of people moving around him had him staring at nothing. A towel was wrapped around his shoulders as he heard the faint words of Hopper telling him he had done well; a ringing filled his ears as his mind filled with the possibilities of what could have happened to Dustin. He wasn’t sure how long he was stood there till a voice broke through. “What do you mean I can’t come through!? I’m basically family!!” Steve followed the shouting and arguing to find your face. It was flushed red as you were holding in the inevitable tears, he knew were near.

You could feel eyes borrowing into your skull as your head snapped around the officers currently blocking you, your blood ran cold as the sound around you turned into a faint static. “S-Steve?” You whispered; your body too stunned to make noise.

The tears you had been holding back reached their destination as they spilled from your eyes down to your cheeks, burning your cold face. “Steve!” You shouted, your body filled with adrenaline, and you pushed your way through the officers’ stances like saloon doors and ran over to Steve still stuck in place. In the last few feet you threw yourself into his torso and wrapped your arms tightly around his back. “Oh my god, Steve, its really you.” You sobbed out into his bare chest.

Years, it had been years since he saw you last, being one of the last people he could make out in his rear-view mirror, a few tears had fallen from your eyes that day too. But now you were heaving great sobs against his bare skin. His arms remained unmoving as your grip only tightened. “Did you find him? Did you find something?” You were shouting up at him, trying to break him from his thoughts. “Steve!?” You released your grip only to place your hands on his face. “Did you find him?” Steve looked down at you, his eyes seemed so cold and empty compared to yours, swirling with fear, frustration, and heartbreak. “I, I uh. No I didn’t find him.” His voice came out dry and creaky, his mouth dry as he wanted desperately to give you some good news. More tears streamed down your face and dripped off your chin. “I’m so glad you’re here, we will find him.” You nodded trying to get him to mimic your movements.

A few officers emerged from the pond, a hat in one of their gloved hands, your head followed the movement to see clearly what they were placing gently into an evidence bag. “Wh-what is that? Is that Dustin’s?” Your voice broke as you began to drag your body closer, Steves hand clamped against your wrist, his body finally able to move again. “Don’t Y/N, don’t” His voice going quiet at the end. “Its just his hat, there was nothing else there.” He tried to reassure, but it only ended in you crying against his chest once more, only this time Steve was holding you close, attempting to hold up your weakening body. “Come on, lets get out of here.” He muttered staring straight forward to the path he had taken from his car.

You looked at him in disbelief, you should stay, stay until you knew something, hell stay until they found Dustin safe and sound. But you knew it wouldn’t be possible, sooner or later Hopper would make you go home, like the other times in the past week. “My cars just down the hill.” Steve said reaching for his sweater and sweats near by, quickly pulling on the sweater before moving forward, carrying his sweats in his hand. He didn’t give you a chance to argue, only a chance to follow.

You moved your aching legs to catch up beside him. “Did you walk here?” He asked, his eyesight pointed forward. You wished you could get a glimpse of what was going on in his head. “Yeah.” You looked down towards the dirt, watching the roots pass your feet. “Still don’t know how to drive?” He questioned, he was attempting to lighten the mood, but his voice was so monotone that you couldn’t tell if he was upset with you. “No… That’s what the gangs for.” You mumbled as you took careful steps down the hill, you were in front of his car in a matter of moments watching him dig his keys from the pocket of his pants.

“How-“ Steve paused as he internally fought with whether he wanted to know how everyone was, or if he was just attempting to make small talk in this tense, awkward situation. “They’re good. Besides all this I mean.” You answered for him, shrugging your tired shoulders as he reached in to unlock the car.

The ride back to your apartment building was silent, no questions passed back and fourth, no catching up, no reminiscing. It was all bleak as Steve pulled up to the sidewalk in front of your building. You sat unmoving for a while staring down Steves dashboard, unsure of how to leave in this type of situation. “Do you… want to come up? I have a couch available.” You asked quietly avoiding all eye contact, you didn’t want him to slip through your fingers once more. You weren’t sure you’d see him again if you just left.

“I uh, I’m staying with Robin, I should really go meet up with her. She’s probably worried.” You let out a light chuckle. “Yeah, probably. Well you can place all the blame on me.” Your eyes wandered over to Steve, his grip on his steering wheel showed you his impatience. “I’ll… I-I hope to see you again before you leave.” You finally let your eyes rest on Steves face, you couldn’t read it if you had a microscope. He was empty. “Yeah.” He huffed. “We’ll see.” His voice was grumbled, he could barely remember how to breathe at this point. His mind was completely elsewhere, but how badly he wanted to give you some form of his old self was looming in his head and heart.

You exited from the vehicle without another word to him.

#steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #reader #Y/N #robin buckley #eddie munson #steve harrington stranger things #stranger things 4 #nancy wheeler #mike wheeler #will byers #jim hopper #joyce byers #jonathan byers #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #stranger things #non canon #after stranger things #eleven hopper #eleven #el hopper #jane hopper #the upside down

[wh0rezs]

P.U.N.K GIRL

PAIRING: NEYTIRI X HUMAN/AVATAR! READER

SUMMARY: Finding someone to love is difficult especially when she wanted nothing to do with at first, but now you are one with her. Though you remember the feelings that came before it.

WARNINGS: AFAB reader, reading having a close relationship w Miles Quaritch, hints to a traumatic teen life.

“People say she’s bad, but they see the way she is with me”

“She a monster, a beast.” Colonel Quaritch huffed on about Neytiri, after watching a video of her shot down some of the RDA’s camera.

While you respected Miles Quaritch (a lot), you couldn’t help but think his words were wrong. You weren’t even listening what he was droning on about; you were miles away with the so called “beast”.

“P is for the painful way she makes me feel some days”

“You will never learn the ways of the People; just another tawtute.”Neytiri hissed at you, swatting you away. You let out a pathetic “please wait up”, for Neytiri to turn and hiss at you.

“Go away, tawtute. You are ruining everything. Just go.” Neytiri scolded at you. You felt hurt by her words but you knew she was somehow right.

You left, knowing it was better for her to cool down. Though her words pierced your heart, digging deeper as she stalked away.

“U is for Utopia, the other times with her”

A smile spread across your face as Neytiri dragged you by your arm, through the bioluminescent forest after Eclipse.

Neytiri wanted to show you her favorite spot on Pandora; a cave which held a bioluminescent pond. Her spots lit in the darkness and she smiled brightly at you.

You two had reached it, stripping of your tewng and Neytiri,letting out a whoop, dove in and you closely followed.

As both of you emerged from the water, your face was splashed and Neytiri laughed at your expression.

“Oh it’s on, princess.”you hissed and Neytiri laughed at your threat.

“N is for the new wave dreams she had back in her teens ”

“When I was a teen, I spent my years letting loose and trying to make a name for me.”you confessed, not letting Neytiri know the actual truth of your teen life. Neytiri, sensing your sadness, only smiled at you and brushed away a stray hair.

“How about you, Tiri ?” you asked, curious of her life. Neytiri looked up, and you regretted asking knowing about what happened to her older sister.

“In my teen years, I trained to be the best hunter yet. I always wanted …..” Neytiri trailed off, and you nudged her, encouraging to go on.

“It is pretty childish but to be the Toruk Makto.” Neytiri whispered and you smiled, pulling up by her arms. “No way, that ain’t childish, that so badass. Can you image Neytiri te Tskaha Mo'at'ite, Toruk Makto.” you twirled her around and she let out a joyous laugh.

“K is for the kid in her”

Neytiri stalked her prey, as it unknowingly watched a fish swim in a stream. ‘How foolish was it, not listening to its surroundings’ Neytiri thought,shook her head she as was only a arm’s length away.

Neytiri reached out her arm, and caught her prey,pulling at her tail. You let out a yelp, losing your fish. You turned around as Neytiri’s laughed reached your ears.

“Oh you should’ve seen your face. It was like when you and Jake Sully were being chased by the Thanator.” Neytiri puffed out, clearly enjoying your reaction.

Though her laughs turned a shriek as you tackled her onto the ground, pinning her down. Your eyes met and both of you smiled at each other. Then her hands pulled at your ears, earning her a yelp.

“My P.U.N.K girl”

Your hands brought forward your kuru connecting with Neytiri’s, forming a tsaheylu. You smiled as Neytiri moved closer, bringing her lips to yours. Embracing the warmth of the kiss and Neytiri, you knew more than anything that you were meant for each other.

Neytiri pulled back and said “I see you, ma [name].” You returned the words, and slowly you two sunk into mossy ground underneath the Tree of Souls.

After joying each other’s embrace, Neytiri laid her head on your beating chest. “I love you, my princess.” you whispered, kissing her forehead as she drifted into a peaceful sleep.

A/N: i hate to admit it but this my favorite fanfic i wrote yet. I love Neytiri. This is inspired by P.U.N.K girl by Heavenly

#avatar 2009 #atwow fluff #avatar twow #atwow #neytiri x human reader #neytiri fluff #i am so gay #fanfiction #neytiri fanfiction

[the-lonelybarricade]

We Bleed the Same - (3/?)

Summary: The forest was a labyrinth of snow and ice... The beginning to a story we know, unfolded a little bit differently.

AO3 saw it first because I was too sleepy to post to tumblr last night. A gift for my darling @belabellissima💝

Read on AO3 ・Series Masterlist ・Previous Chapter

-

Passing out from blood loss was not so dissimilar from drowning.

Feyre had nearly experienced the latter on the day she’d taught herself to swim. A grove of birch trees lined the shore of a local pond in her village, and Feyre had found one in particular that leaned at just the right angle that she could hook her elbow around its trunk and stretch herself over the pond. She was fascinated by the way the water rippled when she skimmed her fingertips along the surface, distorting the image of the summer sky above into smears of blue—lighter on the peaks of the rings, where the light bounced, and darker in between.

Other children were splashing in the water further off-shore, and Feyre intended to study their movements so she might learn to do the same, until a boy thought it would be amusing to sneak up and shove her shoulders. Feyre lost her grip on the trunk, and the bark scratched the entire length of her arm as she tumbled forward. She remembered opening her mouth to scream, only to swallow a mouthful of stagnant water.

Light might have danced playfully above the water’s surface, but below it was dark.

Dark, like the fog that curled around her now, so thick it felt as though she were treading through the water of that pond once again. Just like before, she panicked as her awareness first trickled in—kicking blindly, uncertain which direction was up or down. But then… a calmness settled over her. A latent instinct that had always found a home in the dark, that told her it was okay to take a moment to stop. To think. To trust herself. Trust that she would float to the surface and the sun would warm her face again.

Though, it was frost that welcomed her to the waking world.

Contained within a pair of narrowed eyes so icy in color and countenance that everything in their path froze. Including Feyre, who had least expected to find Nesta occupying the chair at her bedside.

They were in what looked to be an infirmary—four beds aligned neatly in a row, each framed by a large drape that could be pulled for privacy. The two on either side of her bed were tied. There was no need to use them when the sheets of the other beds were all immaculately pressed, and it was clear that she was the sole patient.

“How are you feeling?” Nesta asked.

The memories came back in a rush: the shattered door and leeching cold, the snarling beast and her strange, unlikely escape. She’d been partly hoping it had been a dream, but the dull pain blooming in her shoulder, faintly throbbing like a second heartbeat, said it was anything but.

Feyre searched Nesta’s face, anticipating anger or blame, but her sister’s question seemed oddly genuine. Which caused Feyre to wonder—how was she feeling? Nesta wouldn’t have asked, wouldn’t have cared, unless Feyre’s health had been in a dire state.

She sat up slowly, finding that every muscle rioted against the simple movement. She hissed as she stiffly turned her neck to take stock of her injuries. Her tunic—or, what was left of it—had been hastily ripped and was now hanging in pathetic ribbons from her body. Thick bandages wound from her elbow all the way up to her shoulder, fresh as if they’d been recently changed, and with an expertise that suggested it hadn’t been Nesta.

A small work table sported the more grisly evidence of her night: a metal pan full of surgical tools still in need of cleaning, alongside a pile of bloodied, discarded bandages.

She grimaced. “The beast’s claws were larger than I thought.”

Nesta’s voice was strained. “When the mercenary brought you in—”

“Where is he?”

Her sister straightened. “That man is dangerous.”

“He saved my life,” Feyre whispered, still not quite believing it. “All of our lives.”

Nesta shook her head, fixing her steel gaze on the opposite window. Condensation fogged the bottom half of the glass, but there were hints of a clear sky above it. “Men don’t risk their lives like that for nothing in return, Feyre. None of it bodes well.”

Behind clenched teeth, Feyre resisted the urge to snap that of course none of it boded well. A faerie—a High Lord—had broken into their house and demanded Feyre’s life as payment. She couldn’t blame Rhysand for any of this. Feyre was the one who killed the faerie, and now she was the one who had avoided paying that debt to Prythian.

What would be the consequences of that choice? If the High Lord wasn’t dead, which she was almost certain he wasn’t, that meant she had made an enemy out of the most powerful creature in existence. Perhaps even the one responsible for sundering the villages that bordered the Wall, until they were little more than smoke and ash.

The Nolan estate looked well fortified from the small, disoriented glimpses she’d gotten while Rhys had been carrying her. But she doubted the iron walls, no matter how thick and tall, would be able to keep out a High Lord. And that was only assuming he focused his wrath on Feyre and her sisters, when he could just as easily decimate their village.

She needed to see Rhys. Needed to know if that faerie was dead, or if he’d be coming back for Feyre and her sisters. Maybe she could convince Rhys to escort her family to the southern coast, until they could hire a ship and be free of these lands for good.

“Where is he?” Feyre said again.

Nesta’s fine features twisted in reproval. She raised from her chair, considering the visit no longer worth her time if Feyre wasn’t willing to listen.

“Outside,” she said, not trying to hide her sneer. “He’s been guarding the infirmary like a panting dog.”

A panting dog, or a mercenary who knew exactly what the fae were after. As Nesta said, men didn’t risk their lives for nothing in return. Certainly not a hired sword, subscribed to the creed that coin and self-preservation should take precedence above all else. Rhys wouldn’t be protecting her if he didn’t have something to gain from it. She was a stranger to him, but the High Lord was… the High Lord was someone he knew.

Feyre had the foreboding sense that she’d stumbled into the middle of something much larger than a felled wolf and a mortal life debt. But whatever Rhysand’s game, she was grateful to be alive.

“Will you ask him to come in?”

Nesta eyed the ripped tunic hanging from Feyre’s body. She glanced down at herself, noting what Nesta undoubtedly saw—the exposed plain garments beneath her slightly loosened stays, altogether revealing far more skin than a lady ought to in a gentleman’s lone company. Except Feyre was no lady, and Rhysand was certainly not a gentleman. She snorted, but drew the sheets over herself nonetheless.

With a huff—so that there was no mistaking her disapproval on the matter—Nesta stormed to the doorway and threw it open. She didn’t say a word to the man waiting on the other side, who turned at the sudden outburst, not even bothering with an excuse me as she shouldered past Rhysand, nearly trampling him in her warpath.

He caught the door before it shut, though he didn’t step past the threshold.

Not until Feyre looked at him and said, “You can come in.”

The door clicked, quiet as a whisper. He didn’t move any further, and though she tried to meet his eyes so that she could thank him for what he’d done for her and her sisters, he was doing an excellent job of studying everything in the room with the exception of Feyre. Perhaps he was more of a gentleman than she’d given him credit.

“Your sister’s a delight, by the way,” he said, picking up an iron chamberstick and holding it to the light as though he were assessing its make.

“So you’ve met Elain.”

“Elain is lovely, too,” he conceded, though a tad absent-mindedly.

She didn’t know why, but she said, “Elain’s the loveliest of us. Gentle in all the ways that Nesta and I are sharp. She’d make a good wife.”

That drew his attention. He laughed, shaking his head as he set the candle back down.

Feyre narrowed her eyes. “Did I say something funny?”

Now, he looked at her. And she really wished he hadn’t. It was like tumbling face-first into that pond all over again, feeling the world tip and rush past, and then she was blinking into a pool of piercing violet, uncomfortably aware of herself and uncertain what to do about it.

Rhys looked to be warring between incredulity and amusement. “Are you trying to encourage me to pursue your sister?”

“I…” She supposed she had. A force of habit, talking up her sisters to any suitor who would listen, perpetually scraping to find them an avenue out of starvation and poverty.

He smirked. “Not interested in having me for yourself? Or is this a selfless act of sisterly love?”

His smug expression jabbed into her as solidly as a finger, and he stepped towards her like a prodding child, trying to get under her skin. Feyre clenched her teeth, loathing that it worked.

“Neither,” she sniped. “Elain will undoubtedly marry for love, and I…”

Those violet eyes became a hot, coiling iron. Her cheeks seared beneath their heat, and she tore her attention towards the window, willing the frost to drift closer. How had they ended up on this subject to begin with? There were a million things she needed to discuss with him, least of all her marriage prospects.

Feyre shrugged, as if oblivious to his rapt attention and her own unfurling mortification. “I was content with becoming a spinster one day.”

Feyre hadn’t anticipated that it would be so difficult to admit that ambition out loud. It never sounded as absurd in her head. But then again, she had all the details that he didn’t—the endless list of reasons that she would make an unsatisfactory wife. She was a half-wild beast, never quite warm enough, or gentle enough, and certainly not docile enough. Never mind the gouges in her arm that now marked her life debt to the fae.

“Pity,” Rhys said, clicking his tongue. She wasn’t certain which prospect he was commenting on, and she wasn’t brave enough to ask. “I suppose we have that in common, though.”

“What do you mean?”

The words slipped out before she could leash them.

Wood groaned beneath Rhysand’s weight as he stepped further into the room. “A life with me means always being isolated from the rest of the world. Feared, because of what I do for a living. My wife or children would always be targeted—hunted—because of me. As such, I’d resigned myself to bachelorhood.”

A warning, and one that she knew wasn’t quite for Elain.

Feyre didn’t know why he bothered, why he thought marrying him was something that had even crossed her mind. “So you plan on never taking a wife?”

The question seemed to sober some of that amusement glinting in his eyes. “I wouldn’t say that.” He studied her face. “I just assume there aren’t many people who would be interested in sharing such a life with me.”

Except that he was undeniably beautiful. Feyre imagined he must have at least had lovers—handfuls of them, if she had to guess. Though, sharing someone’s body, but never quite their heart… It sounded an awful lot like what she had with Isaac. A way to stave off a darkness that always found its way back.

It sounded lonely, though she didn’t dare share that with him.

He added, as if in afterthought, “You are wrong about one thing, though.”

“What’s that?”

Rhys held her eyes. “Elain isn’t the loveliest. Not even close.”

She knew without demanding clarification that he wasn’t talking about Nesta. And Feyre didn’t know how to react, so unpracticed with flattery, especially coming from a stranger. A stranger who had saved her life. She’d met him hardly twenty-four hours ago, and in that time he’d conveniently managed to appear precisely where she needed him, exactly when she needed him, and now he was here staring at her with so much… wanting.

It ought to be gratitude thickening her tongue, but all she found herself swallowing was mouthfuls of distrust. Bitter, coppery. He was keeping vital information from her and, meanwhile, had managed to derail their conversation away from anything important.

“How’s your arm?” Rhys asked. He reached her bedside and propped himself casually on the adjacent bed, paying no mind to the neatly pressed sheets.

The question brought Feyre’s awareness back into her body, towards the injury that didn’t hurt nearly as much as the pile of bloody bandages would indicate. She prodded the edge of the bandage at her shoulder, curious to see the wound beneath.

“I haven’t looked at it, yet,” she admitted. “The pain is mild. I don’t think it’s bleeding.”

She would feel bad unravelling the healer’s work when it was clear the bandages were newly changed, but she was tempted to gauge how badly the injury would scar. Claws slashed through her memory, the size of her thumb and sharp as the sword at Rhysand’s back. She flinched, recalling how much blood there’d been in the aftermath, how she’d been mauled from shoulder to elbow. The fact that she felt no pain was remarkable.

“The healer gave you something for the pain,” Rhys said, nodding towards a corked vial of dark liquid on the worktable between their beds. He snagged it between two fingers, holding it up so she could see. Small, silver granules swirled as the vial sloshed back and forth beneath his examination. “Must have done its job. You didn’t wake up once during the stitching.”

She blinked. “You were there?”

“Of course I was.”

It was said with so much earnesty that Feyre faltered. She expected he would have just dumped her with a healer and left once she was no longer his bleeding problem to deal with.

“Nesta said you’ve been waiting outside all morning,” she said, raking her eyes down his figure.

He wore the same fine leathers she’d seen him in before, though the fur-lined cloak and crossbow were gone. A wisp of an image tickled her memory, of being wrapped in that cloak, cradled in warmth and whispered soothing words. The moment she tried to close a fist around the memory, to catch and examine it, she felt it fade and drift away like smoke.

Blinking, stumbling to re-orient herself, she asked, “Have you been here this whole time? Did you even sleep?”

Rhys shrugged. “I wanted to make sure you survived through the night.”

The way he said it so offhandedly… less like he was concerned, and more like it would have been a dreadful inconvenience. Scowling, Feyre demanded, “Would it have ruined your plans if I died?”

“Truthfully, it would have,” Rhys said, setting down the vial. “That beast isn’t dead, and neither are you, which means it will inevitably return.” So… his plan was to use her as bait? Her face twisted with disgust, and Rhys laughed before leaning forward and catching her chin. “Oh, don’t act so offended, Feyre. That’s not the only reason I wanted you to live. I would have missed this pretty face.”

“But would you have saved me, if you didn’t have anything to gain from it?”

He pitched his voice low. “The only reason I’ve survived as long as I have is because I don’t involve myself in situations that won’t sway in my favor. I saved you because I had something to gain from it. And I also saved you because I like you and it was the right thing to do. Both of those things can be true.”

“But if one of them wasn’t—if you had nothing to gain, you would have let that beast kill me. Or at the very least, abduct me.”

Rhysand’s expression hardened. “I would have thought, as a huntress, you would understand better than anyone that survival and selflessness are often opposed. It’s a luxury I’m afforded sparingly, so let’s not waste time on moral quandary. Last night our best interests were aligned, which was a very fortunate thing for both of us.”

She needed to swallow to work her next breath down her throat. Rhys noticed, judging by the way his gaze flickered to her neck, eyelids lowering enough that she could count his eyelashes, thick and dark against his bronze cheeks.

“And what happens when our best interests are no longer aligned?”

Her voice was no more than a whisper. Rhys’s lips quirked into a sideways smile.

He said, “Then I’ll forgive you, for whatever you’ll need to do to survive.”

Just like that, Feyre found herself in the winter woods, crouched atop a thick branch while the numb crept slowly through her body. Facing Rhysand, she tried, she truly did, to summon remorse for all the dead things that had once been breathing creatures before they had the misfortune of crossing her path.

With an unbearable heaviness, she understood what Rhys was saying, in a way she wished she’d never needed to. Because if it had been Rhys, defenseless beneath the claws of that beast, Feyre couldn’t say for certain that she would have gone to help. Not if it meant luring the beast back to the cabin, to her family. And from the grim understanding in his eyes, she knew he wished he didn’t need to make those kinds of decisions, either. There was a difference between ruthlessness and survival, but sometimes that line became blurred, practically indiscernible in a winter forest.

She couldn’t blame him, not when she operated the same way. But she also couldn’t offer him open forgiveness, either. So she settled with, “Thank you. For saving me yesterday.”

That seemed a satisfactory response, for the grin it pulled out of him. “So she has manners after all,” he crooned, releasing her chin. “Good. You’re going to need them while you’re here.”

Here.

Lord Nolan’s estate. The conversation they’d had last night felt like it had happened in a dream, but she could recall his explanation that the local Lord offered her family sanctuary from the fae on his estate. Their family had likely once run in similar social circles to Lord Nolan, from years ago when her father’s trading business was so renowned that he’d garnered the title Prince of Merchants. None of their aristocratic friends from that time had bothered to extend any help when Feyre’s father lost his fortune. When they’d been on the verge of starvation.

Feyre saw no reason why Lord Nolan would help now. The Archeron name had been tarnished after their father could not pay his debts. Everyone in high society had turned their backs. She doubted it was being done out of the kindness of his heart.

“This… sanctuary,” she said carefully. He raised a perfectly groomed brow. “What are its terms?”

She assumed it would involve some sort of work to pay their dues. Feyre thought she could handle the manual labor of being a scullery maid, but she shuddered to imagine Nesta waiting on Lord. Or Elain, scrubbing floors. Maybe they could put her to use in the kitchen—

“You’re to remain here as guests,” Rhys said, smoothly cutting into her unravelling anxieties.

“Guests?” Feyre stared at him. Waiting for further explanation, because certainly that couldn’t be the whole of their agreement.

“Does the word guest elude you?”

He twisted his mouth like he was trying not to laugh. Feyre dropped her eyes toward the pillow propped beneath her back, debating if it would pull her stitches to launch it at his head. “Yes,” she said through her teeth. “It does, actually. The Lord is to put us up, and we’re to do nothing in exchange?”

“Precisely.”

There had to be some sort of catch. Something she was missing. “And how long are we going to be guests?”

Rhysand began picking at a fleck of dust on his tunic. “For the duration of my contract.”

“Which is how long, Rhysand?”

His head snapped up at the use of that name. Those violet eyes narrowed into crescents, and she recalled in the marketplace that he had said his name was simply Rhys. Interesting.

“Could be a year,” he said with a shrug. “Could be several.” She thought he was being purposefully vague now, trying to wind her up. But then his amusement sobered a bit, and he added, “Before it ends, I’ll make sure that beast can never harm you or your family again.”

The vow sounded sincere enough to curb the sharpest edges of her anger. She sighed. “How did you get Lord Nolan to agree to this?”

“Lord Nolan and his family are notorious for their hatred of the fae. More and more have been crossing through the wall in recent years, and he’s employed my services to ensure the estate’s protection.” In a fluid motion, Rhys rose to his feet and crossed the distance toward the large window between their beds. Bright winter light fell across his face as he peered through the fogged glass, like he could see through to the borders of that great, legendary Wall. “When I told Lord Nolan that a family in the village was being hunted by the fae, he was willing to lend the necessary men to eradicate the threat. He was wary, however, about what a human girl could have done to warrant such attention.”

A knot coiled in her stomach. She would have thought that Lord Nolan, renowned for hating the fae, would respect that she’d killed the wolf in the woods. But from the wicked smile that curled over Rhysand’s mouth, she expected that wasn’t the story he recounted to the Lord.

Rhys glanced over his shoulder at Feyre, tilting his head in a way that caused a lock of hair to fall over his face. He slid a hand into his pocket, retrieving an object he promptly tossed in her direction. Still recovering from her injury, Feyre wasn’t quick enough to respond before the object thunked against her thigh and landed on the bed.

“What’s this?” She asked, cautiously lifting the black velvet box.

He jutted his chin, wordlessly urging her, open it.

The hinges swung open with little resistance, revealing a ring of twisted strands of gold, flecked with pearl, and set with a round diamond. Feyre angled the box back and forth, admiring the myriad of colors that refracted off its surface. It was beautiful, and she hadn’t the slightest idea why she was holding it.

“Lord Nolan is a shrewd businessman, and he’d ordinarily never be so generous,” Rhys explained. “But when I told him that you were being hunted, and that I would be unable to fulfill the contract if I needed to worry about protecting you in the cottage, he reconsidered.”

Rhys turned from the window, offering her a devilish smirk as the pieces started to click into place.

“After all,” he crooned, “It would be cruel to keep a man separated from his wife.”

#We Bleed the Same #Feysand #Feysand fic #Feysand fanfic #Feysand fanfiction #Feyre x Rhys #Rhys x Feyre #Feyre x Rhysand #Rhysand x Feyre

[nemo-of-house-hamartia]

In The Heat of the Moment Chapter 4 - Homeward Bound

Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3

Words Count: 7981

Warning: None

Dorothea

January 1868, London

The first thing that hit Dorothea was the smell: abhorrent, a stinging stench, almost choking in its miasmic pungency.

Phillip had warned her that it would have been a shockful amalgamation of foul odors, but at first, the young woman had deemed her cousin, with his penchant for the dramatic, exaggerated in his assertion.

Now, as she wrinkled her nose with barely masked revulsion painted on her otherwise delicate features, she found herself thinking that, mayhaps, her cousin hadn’t been dramatic at all.

Her sensitive nose had grown so accustomed to the fresh clean air of the surrounding forest of Sturefors, in Sweden -her mother’s ancestral home- that breathing the less-than-salubre air of London felt like a slap to her face and an execrable invasion of her nostrils.

Making sure no one would hear her, Dorothea allowed herself to let out a sigh, barely audible, yet lingering like haze in the cold winter air.

She had known she would miss Sturefors Slott the moment she had set foot in the carriage her mother’s family had prepared for her to bring her to the southern part of the country, where she had taken the ship that had brought her back to London.

Sturefors Slott -despite its name- wasn’t truly a castle as they intended them back in her beloved England, with their towering stone walls and turrets, built during the early middle age to protect the Lords and their people from the barbaric invasion; rather, it was a Hall, elegant and refined if modest in its appearance, nestled within the soft embrace of an endless vastness of evergreens and a clear lake, just outside the door.

Closing her eyes, she wished she could fool herself that it was not smog what she was breathing, but the fresh tingly scent of crushed pine needles and musk and balmy resin.

As she allowed herself to glide through her most recent memories, all she could see was the residence’s walls painted in a soft pale shade of yellow and white, in a way that made them resemble one of those Austrian pastries her father had always been fond of ever since she could remember; she could see the small artificial pond, sitting right in the middle of the small baroque garden, where waterlilies grew aplenty and birds would come and swim at their leisure; the orangery and hothouse, where she had spent countless afternoons reading during those chill summers, surrounded as she was by the delicate perfume of the flowers in bloom.

The complete peace that place provided was one of the reason why it was always guaranteed that she would be found there; but alongside that motive, also the fickle hope that, somehow, being surrounded by all those familiar scents might help quell the melancholy and yearning, she oftentimes felt in her young heart, to see her family soon.

As she raised her eyes to glance at a ferry passing by them- one belonging to her father’s commercial fleet, judging by the men clad in red that shouted on the decks, and the wolf painted on the funnel spewing out a dark, choking smoke- she wondered at what price that melancholy was finally about to be abated.

In Sturefors, she had known a freedom she never felt while in London, with her mother’s protective wings always looming over her and her father’s ever watchful gaze constantly following her, even while not being physically there; like Eva with the Apple in the Garden of Eden, she had tasted the fruit of a far greater independence she had ever dared to dream, a complete sovereignty of her own self she had never experienced ever since she had memory.

“Those days are long over, Dora. You are back home, now,” she thought to herself, sighing again, before straightening her back and tilting her chin up, as she gazed upon the industrial city opening up in front of her, studying at it with uncertain eyes.

Her home.

London, the Centre of the World.

The city had changed ever since she had left it in 1865, almost three years prior: cluster upon cluster of new factories had been built in the industrial neighbours, and even from the river she could see the enormous luminous signs bearing her family’s name or her father’s own wolf crest black on the walls of red bricks, the eyeless predator towering over the buildings that faced the Thames, its watchful gaze the same her sire’s.

So many changes.

So much to get used to once again.

As she let her eyes wander, she felt a small leap of reassurance in her heart when she caught a glimpse of the city’s historical landmarks, the towering height of Big Ben, his belfry raising high against the late afternoon sky, a familiar sight amidst all that chaotic maze of buildings veiled by a haze of smog.

This was indeed her home.

“And yet,” she thought, calling upon all her considerable will not to let the tears that prickled her eyes run free on her cheeks, “It does not feel like it any longer.”

With a subtle gesture of her hand, she tried to brush away the tears away, before anyone could notice, and trying to compose herself, she let her gaze wander around some more and touch the buildings at the side of the river.

She looked at the tiles and doors and windows, bringing her eyes up where the roofs and chimneys sat and let out their nauseous smoke that rendered the air impossible to breathe.

All of sudden, she stopped in her wandering, feeling that her gaze had been returned.

And it had been.

Someone - at that distance a mere silhouette- had moved with switf movement from behind the cover of red bricks, and without hesitation, had jumped from a chimney to the other, graceful and secure in their movement like a cat.

She narrowed her eyes, bringing one gloved hand to her forehead to shield herself from the last rays of setting sun, trying to make sense of what she thought she saw.

Could it have been a trick of the light or the fatigue of the journey that was finally starting to take over her mind?

No.

She was sure of that.

“Ditte, vad hände? Det ser nästan ut som om du har sett ett spöke!”(Ditte, what happened?It almost looks as if you have seen a ghost!)

Dorothea kept looking up the roofs, half hearing what the woman that was approaching her was saying.

“Sassa, såg du det?”(Sassa, did you see that?) she blurted out, pointing with her finger.

“Vad såg du, min kära?”(What did you see, my dear?) Astrid, a cousin from her mother’s family, that had took upon herself to chaperone Dorothea safe and sound to London, looked intently and raised an eyebrow when she saw nothing.

Dorothea looked again, but whoever was jumping around like a miscreant was clearly gone.

“Någon... som hoppade runt? Jag svär, jag vet vad jag såg, eller så heter jag inte Dorothea Marianne Starrick!”(Someone...who jumped around the roof? I swear, I know what I saw, or my name is not Dorothea Marianne Starrick!)

The woman gave her a long look, her lips pursed together in a thin, austere line.

“Herre Gud, Ditte, det är inte så en ung dam i din ställning ska tala! Jag visste att Minna var benägen till fantasiflygningar, men jag trodde aldrig att du också var det!” (Dear God, Ditte, this is not how a young lady in your position should speak! I knew Minna was prone to flights of fancy, but I never thought you were too!”)

“But I know..what I saw…” she murmured back in English, lowering her head in shame at her cousin’s words.

“Där, där, min kära, ta dig samman! Denna smutsiga luft måste ha spelat dina ögon ett spratt.”(There, there, my dear, pull yourself together! The dirty air must have played a trick on your eyes) The woman said with a condescending tone, caressing a wayward strand of silvery blond hair away from Dorothea’s cheek. Then, she turned to look at the houses built parallel to the river with barely contained disdain. “Säg, Ditte, hur kan man bo på ett sånt här ställe undrar jag?”(Say, Dora, how can you live in a place like this, I wonder?)

Shaking her silvery blond ringlets, Dorothea tried with all her might not to sigh in exasperation, her jaw tensing as she turned to look away from the woman that had just spoken to her.

There was no use trying to reason with her.

But she knew what she saw.

“I can live in a place like this because I was born here, min kära. But pray tell me: what happened to all the good propositions of speaking only English from the moment we left Gothenburg?” she answered, putting an emphasis on the English name of the city.

Astrid brought her perfumed handkerchief to her nose, as her periwinkle eyes filled with tears from the disgust the vile air was causing to her poor nose. She stared at Dorothea for a moment longer than necessary, a wrinkle appearing on her brow, as if she was fighting the natural impulse to rebuke in her native language out of spite.

“Very well, Ditte,” she finally conceded, switching to an heavily accented English. “I am going to be here only for a few weeks anyway, I can afford to do that. For your sake, if anything else,”

“Your effort is oh so deeply appreciated, Sassa,” Dorothea pursed her lips, trying to drown her annoyance in a sweet, if tense, smile of gratitude.

However, much as ever, she had to contain the impulse to roll her eyes at Astrid’s tone and words; if caught, it would have earned her a reprimand and a tirade once in front of Mother and Father, and the last thing Dorothea desired was to have her return to London being soured by the constant complaining and nitpicking her older cousin was known for.

Deciding that she had given the woman far more attention than she deserved, Dorothea took a few step away from Astrid, leaning against the handrail that faced the side of the city where the Clock Tower was and tried to distract herself by looking at the busy stream of ferries in front of her.

But melancholy crept again into her heart. If only Minna, Astrid’s own younger sister and Dorothea’s closest companion in Sturefors, had been the one to be allowed to accompany her back home, maybe the journey would have been less grievous, if anything because she could have retained with her some of the happiness she had felt in Sweden.

“My my, isn’t Astrid a charming choice for a chaperone? Are my ears deceiving me or is the Lady Ankarcrona complaining yet again, Dora?” she heard a young gentleman addressing her thoughts, as if on an invisible cue.

The tone was conspiratorial, yet affable in cadence, and the velvety quality of his timber did nothing to hide the sharpness of his silver tongue.

“With extreme passion, I dare say,” she giggled, for the first time since leaving Sturefors.

Dorothea turned to to face the tall, handsome blond man that was approaching her with an imperious gait that well suited his authoritative appearance.

Philip Edmund Starrick, her first cousin on her father’s side, older than her by only a handful of years, was doing nothing to hide the condescension from beaming in his deep eyes, but when he turned to look at Dorothea, his gaze melted into a mischievous look, as a warm smile stretched on his lips.

Dorothea reciprocated with an impish smirk of her own.

“If you were to ask me,” he said, doing nothing to lower his voice,”If she applied all that passionate effort into something other than making everyone else’s ears miserable with her constant twaddling, her husband would not go looking for a nicer company among the valets of the house,”

Gaping in disbelief, Dorothea leaned over to glance behind his shoulder, to make sure that Astrid hadn’t heard his words.

“Mind your words, Pip! How could you possibly even know about that?” she muttered.

He winked at her, his smirk widening even more.

“It is my job to know what is going on around me,”

“In London, maybe,” she chuckled, poking his ribs with her elbow. “But not in Sweden,”

“Sometimes it is indeed hard not to perform one’s job, especially if that someone is considerable remarkable at doing it ,” he chuckled, leaning in so that he would be able to whisper without anyone hearing them.

“Ever the paragon of humbleness, I see,”

“False modesty is for mingling peons and the church ministers who have time at their hands. I have little patience for it, and much more interest in the fruits my job brings; Speaking of, my darling cousin, I couldn’t help but hear voices about how eager young Master Daae was to instruct you in the art of the violin, during your sojourn in that desolated farm they dare to call a Hall. “

Dorothea gaped once more, opening and closing her mouth as a look of profound abashment found its way on her face. She wished she could stop the blushing that prickled her cheeks at the insinuation Philip had purposely left hanging in the air, founding herself unable to.

She gave him a piercing gaze, tilting her chin up in a silent challenge of wills.

“ I haven’t even set foot in London, and you are already enquiring about businesses that are none of yours. Gustave was my teacher, and nothing more than that,” she whispered, glaring at him. “And you might insinuate all you wish, but my conscience is at peace. My conduct at Sturefors has been nothing less than impeccable.”

Phillip raised an eyebrow, giving her a look that spoke aplenty.

“Not even for a moment has the thought crossed my mind. I am well aware you are a paragon of virtue, cousin dearest. He did fancy you, however, or so I had been told,” he added. “He indeed had the insolence to send you letters with flowers, as well as paying constant calls to you, and invited you for frequent walk together, sometime…unchaperoned?”

Dorothea narrowed her eyes, not liking for a moment that last insinuation.

A realization came to her mind, and irritation found a way in her voice.

“I have nothing to hide nor to apologize for. Who spied on me while I was at Sturefors, Phillip? Was it Father that told you to follow my every step? Or Mother, Heaven forbids?”

Chuckling, he took a step closer, leaning against the railing.

“No need to fret or get yourself into a state, cousin. Neither Uncle Crawford nor the Countess had their hands in this. I am at liberty to say it was in fact my own doing.”

“What for, may I ask? Do you think me so inept that I am incapable of properly take care of myself?” She furrowed her eyebrows and  gave him a stern look, crossing her arms against her chest.

The young man gave her a long look, as silence hung between them, a silence Dorothea couldn’t truly decipher. All it did was rendering her more aggravated with each passing moment. Wasn’t she at liberty to have companionship but the one approved by her family?

“As your spies have most likely already reported to you, my good flibbertigibbet, all that Gustave sent me -all he ever did - was to politely express his respect and devotion toward a friend and fellow connoisseur of the art of the violin and singing. It was done in perfect accordance to all rules of propriety and decency, as my Lady Mother has instructed me to,” Composing herself, she wrinkled her nose as her face morphed into a mask or haughty disdain. “As for what you refer as “fancying me”, Mr. Daaé fancied my competence in playing and composing melodies, and in my voice when I found appropriate to accompany his violin. I assure you, he did not want-“ She faltered for a moment, a sting in her chest where her heart was. She cleared her throat from the lump that had formed there, before regaining her word.“-whatever interest he might have shown toward me, it was not personal at all, but merely connected to all that I had to offer as an artist in my own right.”

Phillip didn’t answer immediately, keeping his thoughts to himself as he observed his cousin with an intense look in his eyes.

“Do I hear a certain vein of disappointment in your voice, Dora? Did you wish for him to acknowledge you in a more,how to say…womanly fashion?”

“I-“ the young woman’s face flushed, her cheeks turning a scalding hue of red that could rival the one of the garment she was wearing. “This is not the place nor time to discuss such matters, Phillip. On my word, your boldness had grown bigger than your ego, and that in itself is an accomplishment. I have no idea what you are insinuating, and I surely hope you did not report a single words of this postulation of yours to Mother and Father? Because I shall not accept any besmirching of my own reputation from no one, yourself included, cousin,”

Dorothea felt her heart thundering against her chest, where contempt and mortification took turn in mocking her.

When she saw him still standing, still observing her with those piercing eyes that had nothing to envy to the winter tundra in the North, with no intention to utter a single word, Dorothea felt dejected.

“It matters not,” she murmured, turning again to face the river. “Not now, not ever, because nothing more than friendship dwelled in Gustave’s heart. He did not know who I was -what I am- and even if he had, nothing would have changed. At all.”

How to explain that the companionship Gustave had offered her had proved to be both the greatest of comfort and the bitterest of yearning, and not reciprocated in the slightest? Her young heart knew all to well what her fate was, where it lead her.

A nightingale in a golden cage, that’s how she felt.

Unable to soar against the dark vaults of the sky, forever locked in the maze that was her reality.

“I could very well have hoped to have Brave Lancelot coming at my window and whisk me away to Camelot, and my chances to find a companion worthy of Mother and Father’s approval would have been the same,”

Phillip let out a small chuckle.

“Now now, you are being rather unjust toward our Mr. Daae. Sir Lancelot would always have an unfair advantage compared to any suitor that might end up asking for your hand. He can very well be considered family at this point,”

Dorothea allowed herself to let out a giggle, her aggravation slowly subduing, as it always did with Phillip.

“I might have driven my father out of his mind with all my jibber-jabbering about the Knights of the Round Table and their quest.”

“Him and everyone else in the Order. All the letters you had the Old Bear write for you, asking noble Lancelot to come and rescue us all from the dragons that were threatening your Father,”

He chuckled at the memory, before speaking again, this time, reciting some verses.

“His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;

On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode;

From underneath his helmet flow'd

His coal-black curls as on he rode,

As he rode down from Camelot.

From the bank and from the river

He flash'd into the crystal mirror,

'Tirra lirra, tirra lirra:' by the river

Sang Sir Lancelot.”

“The Lady of Shalott,” Dorothea murmured, her smile growing wider. “Have you perchance seen reason and read the poem, finally giving our good Lord Tennyson the praise he deserves ?”

Phillip adverted his eyes, his mustache quivering as he held back a contemptuous snort.

“Well?”

“Mayhaps.”He conceded.

She kept her eyes fixated on him, cocking an eyebrow as her smirk widened the more he avoided her gaze.

“Fine. I’ll admit to it, you impertinent pest! This past winter, Cip and I might have spent the evenings perusing some of your books because we missed hearing your voice reading story to us, and Charlie was adamant we went through “The Lady Of Shalott” at least once per week because he knew it’s your favourite. I swear to all the Heavens, he was more punctual about this reading than he was to attend Mass,”

“Let us always be thankful for Charlie and his sensitive decisions. If we wereto be left to your devices, you would have us read something that would make my father’s hair turn white and my mother’s poor heart fail,”

Phillip rolled his eyes, but cannot hid his smile. “Preposterous. I do not know where you get all these ideas.”

Then, all of sudden, Dorothea felt Phillip taking her hand in his in a gentle gesture, and brought her palm against his cheek. Gone was that quick moment of mirth, to leave place to a far somberer one. The calculating light had all but disappeared from the young man’s eyes, leaving place for a warm compassion she had not seen in many years.

“Forgive me for my actions and words earlier, cousin dearest. I..might have been in the wrong with my own conjectures. I did not mean to bring any harms nor sullying to your conduct while away.”

Dorothea gave him a small smile that did nothing to hide the sadness in her eyes.

“Did Charlie agree with your vision? Did he support this decision? And be honest with me, Phillip: I cannot abide any falsehood to be thrown to my face. Not from you.”

The young man shook his head with a smile.

“Cip was adamantly against me intervening. He knew you would have not approved, and that I had no right to do something like this without you being in the known,”

“At least someone in our family still retains some trust in me and my endevours, I am glad to see,”

And yet she knew in her bones that, if Charlie was aware of Phillip’s intentions, so would her father. She knew that Phillip alone couldn’t have the authority to order her to be followed in Sweden. Not without the giveaway of someone higher than him in authority.

And only two people had that kind of prerogative within the Order.

But which of them, she could not fathom.

“Do I have your forgiveness, cousin? I cannot bear to know you are aggravated with me,” She heard Phillip ask her, his voice now warmer.

She raised her eyes to look at him, and saw the same honest glint he always had as a child when he knew one of his prank had taken things too far and he would be in trouble.

She let out a sigh, giving him a tiny smile.

“ I cannot bear to be mad at you for too long either, you know that, Pip,”

“All I did, I did with the best intention and your well being in mind. I was worried about you,” He continued. “The Swedish Rite does not act as your father would, as the British Rite would, and it was only concern that had moved my hand to extend my authority in Sturefors. And after all that happened at the Manor that year, I-”

Dorothea brought her fingers to his lips, in a delicate but firm gesture, her gray eyes silently pleading.

“Say no more, I beg of you, Phillip. For the love you say to bear me, do not open this door. Let me keep the peace I found in Sturefors for just a little longer.”

The man did as he was told, and stopped talking, not without feeling his own heart growing heavy at the seriousness painted all over her face. So much had changed since the day she had been sent away, loaded on that ship, away from her family, alone in the darkness of the north. 

And he couldn’t help to think that, while having changed in appeareance, while having become even comelier than she was when she sailed away, Dorothea had not regained any of the innocence that she had lost that godforsaken night. Where once warmth and good cheer dwelt in her silvery eyes, now an hollowness remained, a desolation that made his blood boil.

The spectre of fear still lingered all over her, attached to her like a tick to the coat of one of his hunting dogs, sucking away at all the joy she once had as a child.

His heart broke at the memories of what once was, but kept his silence, as promised.

“There you were, you two,” a squeaky voice took them away from their conversation, and both cousins turned to look at Astrid, strutting toward them with small, rapid steps.

“I dare say, Mr. Starrick, is this the way to welcome a foreigner in this country? I was under the impression that the Starrick were amiable people, from what I gathered from my cousin here and her behaviour, but now I have to assume that it was my Aunt’s teaching to her daughter rather than the staple of her father’s family education.”

Dorothea had to silence the chuckle raising in her throat at the sight of her cousin rolling his eyes so much, she was sure he could see the back of his own head.

Not much could faze Phillip or break his composure, for he was known to be one of the most bewitching men, but being around Astrid had been proving quite the trial on his nerves ever since they had crossed the border where the Thames met the North Sea.

Nevertheless, the Master Templar’s expression morphed from aggravated in a mask of charming gallantry, with an easiness that came from constant practice. He took a few steps away from Dorothea and reached for the Swedish woman, looking straight into her violet eyes.

“Why, dear Astrid, you hurt my heart with your unjust words. What can I do to prove to your genteel spirit the extent of my family’s “amiability”?” he said, taking her hand in his with delicate touch, allowing his thumb to caress the back of her gloved hand. Astrid held her breath, too stunned by the young man’s boldness. “I assure you, us Starricks can be most…cordial, when given the chance,”his voice now a sultry husked murmur, almost a caress to the ears. “Just say the word, My Lady, and I will make sure to show you to what great extent us Starricks know how to make a respectable woman such as yourself feel…welcomed”

Dorothea’s eyes bulged as she silently put a greater distance from them, reaching the opposite side of the deck and making sure not to be within earshot.

She had heard enough, and she had no intention to bear witness to her cousin’s own trifling, even less so with that trifling being directed to Astrid. She was not one to admire demonstration of affection in public, preferring to read about it in her books: if one were to look upon two lovers exchanging their deeds of love, she would find herself blushing and wishing to be as visible as a spectre. Modesty and propriety lead her actions, and while being a young woman yearning to find love of her own - or, affection at the very least - she dreaded the idea of showing that love to anyone but her proper husband.

How could Phillip behave in such manner with so little concern of who might be bearing witness to his action, she could never understand.

Trying to distance herself from that lingering feeling of uneasiness, she raised her eyes once more, hoping to be able to see again a glimpse of the jumping figure she had seen earlier.

She knew what she saw.

Byron, so dear to her heart, oftentimes praised her for her grounded intellect and her propensity to not let her emotions drive her best judgment.

She allowed herself to gather strength from that, when she decided that she had indeed saw a figure looking back at her, before disappearing in front of her very eyes.

But what was it?

Or rather.

Who?

**************

The moment the ferry’s gangplank touched the dock, was the moment that truly marked the end of Dorothea’s journey from the North.

But all melancholy and sadness at the lost liberty seemed to melt away, like snow in summer, the moment her eyes found the blond man that was awaiting for her close to the pier, his face almost a mirror of her own.

Charles Magnus Starrick was standing tall and straight as an arrow, waiting for her, his round playful face just as amiable as she remembered, and his smile as warm as the gentle summer sun. She couldn’t help but think how much it contrasted with the much soberer faces of the flock of Templar agents surrounding him.  He had always looked out of place among the Templars, almost as if he did not belong, and yet, his authority, while not as great as Phillip’s, was never disputed.

“Charlie! Charlie!” she called at high voice, waving her hand at her cousin.

“Ditte, show a little restraint! This is not how a Lady should behave,” she heard Astrid’s reproach in her ear.

Dorothea tried as much as she could to maintain the elegant composure of her usual pace, but the child-like joy at seeing her cousin’s sweet kindhearted smile was so great, she couldn’t help herself from hasten and almost fly in her cousin’s open arms and hug him as tight as her own strength allowed.

“Darling Dora, welcome back home,” Charles whispered against her hair, reciprocating the tight embrace.

“I missed you so much, Cip!” she whispered back as  joyful warmth spread in her whole chest. “All your letters kept me so much company in those long winter nights where I could not be with you and Pip!”

“You were equally missed, Dora, I assure you! Oh, but do I dare say: did you become taller since the last time we saw one another? Or maybe my darling cousin has been lured by the Erlking and the one in front of me is but one of his elven vassals? Wait! Let me see for myself, I have an infallible method to know if it is indeed my darling Dora!”

Dorothea giggled, shaking her ringlets as Charlie started to count the freckles on her cheeks.

“Ah,Yes! They are all there! It is indeed you, cousin dearest!” and before she could answer, she was wrapped in another bear hug.

She had to call upon all her strength not to shed tears of joy at the relief that she felt back in arms that had hold her ever since she was a toddler.

She was home.

She was truly home now.

“Here she is, brother of mine. Delivered safe and sound, as I promised, “ they heard Phillip’s voice come from behind them, as he strutted down the gangplank while carrying one of Astrid’s luggage.

Charles took a timepiece out of his pocket, and cocked an eyebrow, as a smile appeared on his face.

“And with only fifteen minutes of delay from the advised time. I daresay I am almost impressed by your efficiency, Pip, albeit your delay cost me a whole round of beers with the men.”

“The nerves you got there, brother! I thought that by now you knew that when I say something, I deliver my promise. And it is not as if I had a way to make that godforsaken piece of scraped metal go any faster, even if I wanted to,”

“I wouldn’t have been surprised if you decided to commandeer it and cause mayhem across the Thames. You surely would have made it on the evening papers, I can already hear the titles echoing in the streets: “Gentleman of dubious background causes an halt to the viability of the river to deliver precious cargo unscathed,”

“Do not even jest on this, brother: the Old Bear and Uncle Crawford would have had me hanging by my breeches, if I dared doing such mischief,”

“Oh, to be sure. But I have a feeling that our Dora here would have had her fun,” he said, winking at the young woman and causing her to giggle.

She was ready to answer with a jape of her own, but once she felt the gaze of the small flock of Master Templars on herself, she quickly tried to regain her natural decorum.

She would never forgive herself if she were to stain her father’s reputation with a less than impeccable conduct, especially in front of all his subordinates.

All of them were wearing dark garments in the finest cut and on their short capelets, the red Templar Cross stood almost flamboyant against white fabric.

Even Charles, not one to showcase his appurtenance to the Order, was sporting the formal attire, and Dorothea could have not felt more honoured to know that he had done so just to welcome her.

She brought a hand to the cross tied around her neck by a silken red sash, caressing the engraved enamel with tender affection. It had been the last gift her father had given to her before she left.

She thanked her forethought for having decided to wear it during her journey back home: what kind of impression would have she given to the other Master Templars, if she, the Grand Master’s own daughter, were not to wear the symbol of the Order itself?

But, despite all intention of propriety being on her side, she couldn’t stop herself from tiptoeing to have a better look around her, trying to find other familiar faces among the much soberer ones that were standing guard around them.

“Where is Father? And Byron?” Dorothea asked, her lips forming a small pout of disappointment when she couldn’t catch a glimpse of Byron’s caring eyes or her father’s solemn face.

“The Grand Master and Lord Harrison have been….held up by an unexpected nuisance that needed to be dealt at once, I am afraid,” said Charles, sharing a knowledgeable glance with Phillip.

Dorothea’s own features turned to ashen, all colour leaving her face when looked in her eldest cousin’s eyes.

Even without a word being said, she knew precisely what the nuisance was.

“Assassins? In our dear London?” she whispered in disbelief . “Has our beloved City of Light become an abode of chaos and ruffians in the three years I have been away?”

“You needn’t to concern yourself, Dora.” she heard Phillip murmur, his lips twisted in a disgusted grimace.

She narrowed her eyes, not entirely reassured by Phillip’s word, before turning to face Charles.

“Is it true?” she asked, a tinge of authority in her normally soft voice.

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes running from her face to his brother’s, and more than ever, he looked like a tiny mouse trapped between affection and duty.

"I am afraid…I am afraid to admit that in the last few months there might have been more…”chaos” than foreseen,"

Dorothea shook her silvery ringlets, a look of incredulity on her face.

“Impossible. Father has held the reins of London since before I was born, and no assassins has ever dared to even cross the threshold of the city. He never mentioned anything in his letters to me. Byron never did, either.”

“I told you already, Dorothea: you needn’t concern yourself with this. It is being taken care of.” Phillip said, his tone final as he shared another glance with his brother, a silent command written all over his hardened face.

Dorothea felt her heart sink, just for a moment, before determination found a way through her bones.

“Be as it may, Pip. Keep your secrets and I will keep mine. Two can play this game. But I swear they won’t be yours much longer,” she thought, letting her features to settle back in an expression of neutral calm.

“Very well, cousin. I shall probe no longer. I will not lie that I am saddened in not finding my sire and Byron here,” she murmured with polite courtesy, folding her hands together. “But if it is true that disruption has reached our fair city, I am most reassured that the Grand Master is taking the due steps to ensure that no Assassin will dare to ruin his work.”

Charles let out a nervous laughter of relief as Dorothea stirred the conversation.

“Cousin dearest, allow me to say that none is more disappointed than them in being unable to welcome you in person after your long absence. Nevertheless, they wanted to be sure that their presence would be with you, despite everything.”

With a small nod of his head, Charles beckoned one of the henchmen standing behind them to come forward.

Dorothea turned and exchanged a glance with him, and for a moment she found herself wondering where she had seen him before.

His face seemed familiar, with the neatly stilled whiskers and short trimmed beard framing his face and a lock of dark, unruly hair brushing over one of his temples.

He was very pleasant to the sight, to be sure, but what caught Dorothea's attention was the subtle glint of mischievousness in his grey eyes, hidden just beneath an apparent playfulness.

Before she could ask any questions, the man did as he had been told and produced a small box and a bouquet of pink soft roses.

She smiled to herself at the sight of those gifts: she knew the flowers were from her mother’s own hothouse and the small box was from Byron himself. With a small thank you, she took them with gentle hand, promising herself to open the box once alone in the privacy of her own rooms.

"I took upon myself to make sure they were to be delivered to you in person, Lady Starrick"

Dorothea raised an eyebrow.

"That is very kind of you, Mister..."

"Markus Barclay, My Lady," he murmured with a bow. “I work underneath Lord Harrison the Eldest himself, and I was given order to attend to all your needs in his absence. I am yours to command,”

Squaring her shoulder and straightening her back, she nodded with solemnity.

“Very well, Markus. I want you to oversee that the Lady Astrid Ankarcrona is to be brought safely to the Grand Master’s residence and that she is settled in the most comfortable of the rooms within the Manor. She is an esteemed guest, and she will be treated with all the honours due to her station.”

“Consider it done, My Lady,” he answered, raising his face and looking straight at her without hiding the smirk that touched his lips.

Something about his demeanor caused an uneasiness to stir within Dorothea’s chest and this, along her inability to focalize why she thought she had seen him before, left her in complete diquiet.

When the Master Templar left to do as he was ordered, Dorothea turned to face Charles, a tired smile on her face.

“Will you accompany me home, Cip?” she asked, trying to hide a small yawn. “I think the journey might have taken its toll on me, afterall,”

Charles took her hand in his and brought it his lips with gentleness.

“It will be my honour to pick up from where Pip has left off,” and with a swift gesture, he beckoned for the other Master Templars to take care of Dorothea and help her to her carriage.

Waiting for his cousin to be far enough from where he stood, Charles approached Phillip, careful to lower his voice.

“Have you told her anything about what Uncle Crawford has in plan for her?”

Phillip shook his head at his brother, as they both stayed behind, looking as Dorothea was giving directions to the ones helping her.

“No. I-“ He hold his silence just a moment longer than necessary, weighting the word he was about to say. “I didn’t have the heart to see her smile wane. She had found some peace while in Sturefors. I let her keep it. But I will not lie to you, Charles: I wish I could offer her the same peace here,” he murmured.

Charles raised an eyebrow.

“Now I undestand your need for secrecy. But I never thought you as a sentimental, brother,”

Phillip shook his head with impatience.

“This has nothing to do with me being sentimental. But after all that happened that night, I was afraid she would not smile ever again,”

“The Assassins have paid aplenty for that,”

Phillip cocked his eyebrow, his face now severe, a quiet question in his eyes.

His brother return his question with a smile so cold, so devoid of any of his usual kind warmth, it left Phillip with a feeling of uneasiness in the pit of his stomach.

“Frye is dead.”

“The perpetrator?”

“The Leviathan, of course. He has left nothing in his wake, not even a body for his children to cry on,” Charles said, his voice grave.

Phillip stood silent for a moment, with the loud chattering of people filling his ears. But nothing could deafen the thumping of his accelerated heartbeat.

Finally, he spoke.

“That’s not enough,“ murmured Phillip. “Not nearly enough. Not after what he had done. The ripples of that bastard’s actions have left more than one broken. His death alone is not enough. Is the Leviathan satisfied and his revenge finally accomplished?”

Charles let a small smile appear again on his lips, just as cold as the one before.

“No.”

At that answer, Phillip's own lips stretched in a vindictive smile, a reflection of his own brother’s.

“Good. Then we know what to do next.”

“Pip! Cip! It is time we go!” Charles and Phillip turned their head as they heard their cousin calling them from the carriage window. “ Are you are not coming with us, Pip?”

“I wish I could, cousin dearest, but alas, we need to part ways here, for my services are needed elsewhere.” He smiled, as he approached the carriage and took his cousin’s hand in his, bringing it to his lips in a parting gesture.

“Will you be attending to the Lady Astrid, cousin?” she teased.

Phillip rolled his eyes, shaking his golden ringlets.

“God forbids I have to spend another minute with that woman. If I wanted to hear someone nagging in my ear all day, I would have asked Father for his services. He has years of experience and a disdain that rivals no other’s. No, dearest, I am bound toward other purposes. Duty calls, as it always does for me,”

Dorothea’s smile couldn’t be but a melancholic one at those words.

“So soon? The time has flown much faster than I wanted to. What will I do without your pestering chatters, I wonder?”

Phillip’s face turned into a mask of disdained, but his eyes were smiling at her.

“Preposterous. I daresay, you have grown far too bold for your own good, cousin dearest. No, you will have to do with Cip’s own chattering, I am afraid. But,” he added, as he smiled to both her brother and Dorothea, “ I leave you in good hands,”

“Oh, I know. The best hands indeed,” she replied, returning the smile and holding Charles’ hand in hers.

“Now go, before your Lady Mother starts worrying for your late return. I shall call on you tomorrow, first thing in the morning,”

“ I count on that, cousin,” she murmured, not truly wanting to let go of his hand.

Not after three years without her family.

He squeezed her hand three times, a silent gesture she understood immediately.

A promise.

And Phillip had never failed to keep his promises.

**************

The pub was loud, messy, chaotic with its patrons busy gulping down pints after pints of what could be considered the foulest beer available on the market.

And yet, its despicable taste seemed to do nothing on the one gurgling it down as if it was water, as the rowdiest of songs accompanied their time sitting at those squalid tables.

Among those people, two men sat in front of one another, barely looking at each other in the eyes. The oldest one, built like an ox, with a sour face and brutish hands that could snap an arm in two without any effort, was busying himself with the food served in front of him, while the youngest one, leaner in his figure and more elegant in his demeanor, could barely keep his own meal down.

“The little Countess has returned, at long last” he murmured, trying to distract himself from the queasiness in his stomach.

“So it seems, my friend. Ain’t so little anymore, though, I’ve been told. All grown up.”

The youngest of the two pursed his lips, an uncomfortable light in his eyes.

He didn't want to be there. At all.

“Come on, eat somethin’, will ya? You look like you’re goin’ to faint, if you so much dare to stand up. Eat. It’s on me, this time.”

“No, thank you,” the youngest murmured through gritted teeth.”This...grub does not sit well on my stomach,”

“What a sissy. Well, suits yourself, mollycoddle. I, for once, have never been one to love wasting a good meal,” and without ceremonies, he took the plate sitting in front of the youngest man and started to scarf it down as if it was his last meal.

“Hasn’t anyone taught you any manners?”said the young man, barely concealing the disgust on his face.

“Aye, me mom. She tried when I was a younglin’. Didn’t quite work out, my brother was much better material for her to work with. But what good are manners anyway? No need for them durin’ a brawl in the street.”

“If you say so…”

“Let’s talk about more important things, shall we? Is the Grand Master still set on his plan? Is she to succeed him, when the time comes?”

“How should I know? I am not in Starrick’s mind.”

“Indulge me, lad,”

The young man sighed, crossing his arms against his chest.

“There might be this possibility, yes. Nothing has been decided as of yet.”

“Bollocks.” said the other, curling his lips in disgust.

“Facts.”

The oldest of the two spit on the ground.

“Don’t fuck around with me, you ninny. I can’t believe Crawford Starrick would do somethin’ so stupid. He has enough foresight to know that it would be a catastrophe for the Order.”

“He might be in possess of knowledge about her that we cannot foresee. When he comes to his daughter, the Grand Master is most secretive,”

“Horse’s shite!” he said, slamming his hand on the table. A few people turned to look at them but hastily ignored them when the older one glared at them, his mouth the snarl of a bulldog.

“Would you care to lower your bloody voice?” said the youngest one."Mind my words, you are the paragon of discretion. It's a miracle all of London did not hear you!"

The young man grabbed the pint in front of him, and chugged down the alcohol, hoping it would wash away his nervousness. His eyes darted all across the room, hoping to not meet anyone familiar. The trouble he would be in, if he were to be found in such company, would be beyond repair.

“That’s an absolute pile of shite right there! “See somethin’ in her”? There is nothin’ to see there! All I’m seein’ is a father too blinded by his love for his child and his own desire to create a dynasty through her!”

“Maybe so. But you forget her father has personally overseen her initiation in the Templars ever since she was but a babe in arms and her mentor is none other than the Leviathan himself. She is a Starrick. I would not do the mistake to discount her on the account of her sex. And young she might be, but she resembles her sire more than you can imagine: there is steel hiding underneath that silk. Do not let yourself be fooled by anything else.”

The other grinded his teeth as he leaned closer to the young man, his face splotched by red stains of seething rage.

“Bah! All you have are conjectures and hyphothesis, nothing more than that! It can’t happen. The Order won’t accept her, just because she's his daughter. She's a woman! She belongs to the house, opening her legs for her husband as he sees fits and whelping as many little bastards as possible. She can’t be made anything else than what she is! We need someone strong at the helm of this ship.”

The younger one looked at the elder man, an inquisitive look in his cat-like eyes.

“And what do you propose we do to stop this? Kill her? Kill HIM?”

The brute hesitated, long enough for the younger man to know that, even blinded by rage, he would not act in haste. They needed a valid reason to justify any action taken, lest they were to become a target like the one they were set to control.

“That’s what I thought,” the youngest one finally said, after the long pause. “You will find that patience, my friend, is a virtue not to be discarded in favour of a hasty approach. We shall wait in the shadow, as we have always done, and seize the moment when the right window of opportunity opens. London is already in chaos as it is, with the Assassins rearing those bloody heads of theirs and causing ruckus all around the city. Those blasted Frye twins are an annoyance we need to take care of now, before this annoyance starts veering into dangerous territories.”

“Ethan Frye's bastards?” said the eldest one. “Had they learned nothing from their father’s death? Are they trying to meet the same end he did?”

“Mayhaps.”

“Wasn’t aware those assassins were a family of suicidals,”

“More like children playing with fire. But a fire that need to be quelled at all costs, nevertheless,”

"The challenge is that they’re unorganized. Chaotic. There's no plan or pattern behind their action and this makes them dangerous. Rumors have it that the Frye lad’ve been fightin' at the pits: the lad packs a mean punch.”

“Nothing that will worry you, I assume?”

“Are you jokin’,? Me and my brother will make a pulp of him, as soon as our paths cross. And trust me on this, ninny, they will cross. Wish I could do the same with the Starrick girl. Hell, I’m a gentleman myself, and would be gentle with the little poppet,” he murmured, leaving the promise hanging between the two of them. “That little neck of hers can’t be too hard to snap. A twig in my hands.”

The younger man’s mouth curled in an expression of disgust.

“You will do nothing of this sort. We have to let the Grand Master take care of this, before striking." The young man took the moment before speaking again, weightung his words with moderation. "Kill the young lady, and you will kill Crawford too, in spirit if not in body, and we do not want that. Not now, anyway. The assassins need to be dealt with first, and for that, we need the Grand Master. We need to destroy the Brotherhood, or what remains of it. Then, we shall take care of Crawford Starrick and his daughter."

The eldest one gulped down his entire pint of beer, slamming it against the table once done. He smiled, but there was no warmth in his light eyes.

"What are we waiting for then?"

[PREVIOUS CHAPTER -  “Confrontation”]

[NEXT CHAPTER -  “Awakening of the Hunter” ]

omg, could it be true??? THE 4TH CHAPTER IS FINALLY DONE AND UP??

Seriously, I don’t know what possessed me to finish this, but I just sort of did?

I missed working with my Starrick family, and so I started to read again the chapter, and before you knew it, I basically added 3k words to it today, and just finished it.

Well, as said in the previous chapter, we are finally back in 1868, so finally we have the chance to move around through London with Dorothea :D

I hope you will like this, I know I will be needing a long nap lol

also, a huge thanks to my dear @susann- noir for being my beta reader and helping me through! you have been immensely kind, I appreciated your help so much <3.

Hope you will like it!

--Nemo

#Assassin's Creed #Assassin's Creed Syndicate #Jacob Frye #Crawford Starrick #Dorothea Starrick #Phillip Starrick #Charles Starrick #In The Heat Of The Moment #my ocs #Nemo Writes #ocfairygodmother