#deep breaths sobs you will prevail

[sftandwet]

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ DEMONS ★ MOVIE STAR

links : masterlist revil ★ movie star event

content alert : pwp, DARK CONTENT , cnc, rough sex, blood, oral sex , pet names, biting, p in v. DEMON SEX

author's notes ★ I was supposed to do this on Thursday the 12th and post it on Friday the 13th, however, due to limited time I wasn't able to do and post anything :') I wanted to make the story a little rough, I confess, I love the theme of “what the fuck? That shit only happens in movies”, so I exaggerated and I hope I didn't spoil the story . supernatural creature and the language invented so as not to offend any God or religion!! Dirty story, if you don't like reading this category, please don't force yourself, know your limits !! It was supposed to be very small, but it ended up being big

You had meticulously cleaned the attic in preparation for the ritual. You removed all belongings, leaving only a small mirror for you to peek at what could be behind you, and opened the window to prevent the smoke from suffocating you. However, your body shivered with the gentle breeze that entered through the window, causing shivers down your spine. Your lips trembled and your body spasmed as you held the small burning leaf of the tree of the tree. Although it was green, it burned without hesitation, releasing dark smoke and a sweet fragrance that spread throughout the attic. As you noticed the flame gradually changing color, you closed your eyes and lips, adjusted your posture carefully to avoid smudging the chalk that covered the floor, and finally took a deep breath, feeling the gusts of fresh air enter your lungs.

"Ahnev éta mi rovaf rop¹", master, I beg for your arrival," you whisper, passing the tree leaf of the tree engulfed in flames between your chest, neck, and lips. The sheet slowly wilts, transitioning from black to yellow, expelling the sweet scent and the bitter smell that prevails in the room, gradually fading away.

Your body feels hollow inside, your eyes seem to tear up without reason, although such actions startle you, you continue with your ritual.

You feel hands running through your hair, a gentle caress that tugs lightly, accompanied by a cold breath in your ear. Your body jumps in surprise, but you force yourself to keep your eyes closed, your lips tremble and tears threaten to escape, yet you bite your lip and hold yourself back. 

"Ednam mu sod sues sotirípse arap o otnartoc²", with a shaky voice and trembling hands, you continue the path of the sheet, passing it over your nose, eyebrows, and forehead. The ritual instructed you to pass it over your head until the spirit was with you. You pass it through your hair, hesitantly stretching your arm up to the top of your head, a little further back, sobbing as you feel the small sheet pass through a barrier and your fingers touch a face.

Your heart races, and even though you know that the existence of that being would never harm you, you cry like never before, feeling fear disrupt your breathing, making you breathe heavily through your mouth, trying to find the right rhythm for the torturous balls of oxygen to stop entering your lungs; however, nothing seems to work, blurring your vision and making your eyes even more teary.

"Shh, my dear... I won't hurt you." Your body freezes, and the hand that was in your hair rests on your face, caressing it slowly, running the nails along your cheek, gently descending down your neck and returning until the fingers rest on your cheek.

"Breathe slowly, love. If you don't, our encounter will be eternal," he laughs at you, adjusting the straps of your dress and planting a kiss on your shoulder.

You try to calm yourself, desperately trying to quiet down the frantic breaths your brain forced upon you, feeling little pats on your head and gentle strokes. He's still behind you, his gaze burning like embers, and despite the chilly touches, the warmth emanating from his body is questioning.

"I feel alone, despite the presence of the host. Speak to me. You summoned me here, and ignoring me wouldn't be a good thing to do."

Swallowing the dry lump in your throat, you take a deep breath and try to look behind you, but you see nothing but darkness. 

"I'm sorry, it's still new to me. It wasn't my intention to ignore you," you murmur, placing the burnt leaf of the tree on the little table beside you. "Could you please be kind enough to reveal yourself to me? And also, please tell me how I should address you." 

You close your eyes, following the ritual's rules to the letter. Your head bows down, hands open, exuding absolute trust towards the being standing before you. A warm breeze caresses your body, and at last, you open your eyes, catching a glimpse of him seated on the armchair you carefully arranged.

The sight freezes you in place, for the umpteenth time tonight. He is simply breathtaking, with fair skin and shimmering blue eyes, reflecting a blend of sadness and depth within the irises. His lips are red, and his blond hair shines brilliantly, complementing his robust physique draped in black attire, which accentuates his muscles and skin.

"Call me Leon. So... what do you seek from us?" he says, his voice captivating. You reply, bowing and crawling on your knees, clasping your hands as a gesture of respect. "Sir, I seek wealth or a lucrative occupation to secure my sustenance. I have been plagued by a streak of misfortune, where nothing seems to hold or remain stable," you sigh, making eye contact with him, adjusting your dress, and offering a charming smile. "If you could grant me stability, I would be fully satisfied, my Lord. I promise to do anything."

Intrigued and curious, Leon looks at you, smiling slightly at you.  "What can you offer me that would benefit me?" 

You promptly respond, "My soul, Master." He bursts into laughter, rising from the armchair and moving closer to you. Firmly holding your face, he plunges his gaze deep into your eyes.

"My dear, I do not deal with souls. They hold no value to me. You can do whatever you want with your soul. I seek something more enduring.  he whispers, gradually nearing your ear. "Something enjoyable that I can relish throughout this physical existence. What can you offer us, my dear?"

A shiver runs down your spine, causing your skin to tingle. Instinctively, you pull away slightly from Leon, locking your gaze with his. You feel enchanted by those velvety blue eyes. "Something enduring... For how long?"

“Until this body perishes. As long as there is life within this vessel, our agreement shall be upheld,”  he smiles at you, delicately playing with the straps of your dress. “The choice is yours; offer me something and I shall grant you everything you desire.” 

“So, what do you decide? Remember, this choice will be irreversible, so be absolutely certain.” 

You contemplate the vastness of his blue eyes, hesitating with your response. Throughout the pact, you have made impulsive decisions, offering only your simple soul, despite it not being what the spirits desired. However, witnessing the tide of misfortune that has engulfed you, you finally reach your verdict.

“I accept, though I have only my body to offer, I believe it can be fair.”  Your heart races as your trembling hands glide across Leon's face. You feel his skin, cool and smooth beneath your fingertips, watching him slowly close his eyes as if surrendering to a profound pleasure. A shiver runs down your spine as you realize that your touch causes him to advance slowly, moving up onto your body, sliding between your legs, entrapping you.

“Somav rales o odroca, roma.  Iuqa eta o  otesr ed ahnim aicnetsixe.” ── ( Let's seal the contract, love. here for the rest of my existence) 

He lays on top of you, slowly pulling your dress down, making you sigh with the cold touches of his fingers, which passed over your shoulders and slowly descended between your breasts, taking the fabric with it, removing it from your body each time. 

“you're so beautiful”  he murmurs, running his nose under your neck, gently licking the skin, feeling the vein pulsate, pumping your blood quickly. 

The intensity of desire dominating every fiber of his being, making him yearn for you even more. You, completely naked, feel the cold air from the attic envelope your body. However, an overwhelming wave of heat washes over you, like mysterious flames coursing through your being. Your eyes meet Leon's, who smiles softly. 

Resting your back slowly under the floor, you sigh as you feel Leon running his sharp nails slowly under your breasts, sliding down, scratching your belly until he reaches your pelvis, where his hand stops and you moan softly. He sat on the floor, grabbing the bottom of your thighs, opening you up to him. He almost moaned at the beautiful sight, your beautiful slit glistening with his essence, clit begging for his attention. 

 “I guess someone got excited about the idea, hmm?” 

His index and middle fingers slowly separated your vaginal lips, spreading his cum across your pussy, watching her sigh and her hips roll against his hand. Leon kneels, coming face to face with her needy cunt and his tongue applies pressure to your wet clit, feeling the cum on your taste buds.

Grabbing the point of pleasure on your thin lips, he sucked skillfully, pulled your leg and brought your hips closer to his beautiful face, you didn't hesitate to clumsily grab his blonde hair and pull him closer, feeling the overwhelming pleasure manipulate your body, making your hips rub against his face, feeling the light brush of his nose. 

In a brutal way, Leon pulls you and lies down on the floor, leaving you on top of his face, rubbing your pussy on his face. You move back a little, raising your hips suddenly, however, pulling your thighs tightly, making your pussy fit tightly into Leon's mouth.

“L-Leon!” you moaned shamelessly, eyes closed, mouth wide open and hands in Kennedy's hair. “yes, like that, my good girl, moan my name, don’t be shy. I want to hear all the moans you make while you ride my face . ”

Leon sucked you in an unprecedented way, hugged her leg tightly and ate you cunt desperately. Penetrating his tongue inside you, sliding between the soft, wet walls of your pussy, quickly thrusting in and out, making a mess.

Leon holds your hip bone, rubbing your cunt on your tongue as he leans in, and licks straight up your already weeping pussy.

“F-Fuck, Iー I-I... I'm going to c-um...Leon! ー you scream, feeling tears come out of your eyes and my pussy tighten around his tongue.

You cum on his face and, even though you cum, Leon doesn't stop fucking you. Sucking and nibbling on your clit, while your thighs trembled, he ignored it, just focusing on eating your luscious cunt and enjoying fucking you. He sucked you pussy, his tongue sometimes massaged your clit very quickly, sucking and spitting on her clit making your even wetter. 

“Your pussy is the best thing I’ve ever eaten, baby.”    

Leon turns you around and puts you on the floor, kneeling between your legs, watching your pussy spill out as he unbuckles his belt and pulls down his underwear, his cock springs deliciously out; His length was veiny, long and girthy, tip leaking with a small bead of precum.

Instantly, your legs close and rub against each other, feeling the lubrication slide down your pussy. The rough and firm hands gently separate your legs, holding both legs and placing them on his shoulder, pulling your hips closer to his cock. 

Leon stuck his hard cock inside you, penetrating quickly, sliding inside your soft, wet walls, feeling the pleasure take over your body. His expression turned you on, his heavy breathing and his hoarse voice in your ear, his eyes lowered and the darkness swallowing the blue irises that set you on fire. He kissed your neck, licking the sweaty skin, avoiding biting. It would be fatal to bite you in a vital spot. Leon's cock was plunging inside you and slamming into your womb with a precision that was nothing short of bringing you to the brink of tears, fucking you hard, trying his best to ram his cock as deep as he could. to take. He lies on top of you, pressing his bare chest against your breasts, crushing them, while his mouth approaches yours, breathing heavily against your lips. 

Your eyes were watering, your chest was rising and falling uncontrollably, you felt him slide into your pussy and pull out, fucking your pussy roughly, grabbing your legs tightly, stretching you and scratching your skin. You could glimpse the trickles of blood coming from your calves, you didn't care, focused on your pussy being fucked you didn't feel the burning on your skin. 

“Your pussy feels so good— Damn!” he groaned, pulling away, getting on his knees, while still holding onto your legs. After seeing the flow of blood, Leon smiles at you with purple eyes, taking your injured calf and licking it then, continuing with his tongue out, showing his bloody tongue. “Apparently it's not just pussy that tastes good” 

Inevitably your legs shook at his tone of voice and your hands grabbed your abdomen, digging into your shirt, scratching it in the same rhythm as his balls hit yours hard. skin, feeling your nails linger on the soft flesh of his muscles, feeling him tremble beneath your fingers. 

“Leon!” you moaned desperately “p-please, I’m going to cum, stop it!, I-” 

“Shit. Just take it, bae” He whispered in your ear, picking you up and pressing you against the wall next to the ritual, getting deeper and deeper, biting your shoulder and moving down your face a little more to reach your breasts where he sucked your nipples, biting, licking and sucking them, feeling the spasms of your body. Leon became more and more rough, even ignoring a scream of pleasure escaping your throat as you felt that heat in your abdomen dissipate and expand in an orgasm, tightening your legs around his hips, clawing at his back, like a desperate plea for him to keep hitting that sweet spot inside you. 

You couldn't see properly due to the tears of pleasure, your eyes became increasingly heavy, but the brief view you had from the small mirror abandoned in the attic was the best; Leon's back was covered in scratches and you had marks, scratches and bites on your calves. 

“F-Fuck” he grunted, pulling his dick out of your pussy, penetrating you again until he felt his base was completely inside you.

“Cum on my cock, I want to feel you” You came with a loud scream, your body shaking as Leon continued eating your wet hole, then you felt him cum, he quickly pulled out and cum on your belly, protecting it tightly , putting your face on your neck. Leon can't control himself and bites his neck hard, sending shocks through his body as thick jets come out of his dick. 

“Oh! Leon” you hit his shoulder trying to get away quickly, he moves away and looks worried.

“ M’ sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you” 

“And cut!” The director comes close to you with his hand on his forehead and looks at Leon. “Leon, I told you not to bite really hard, it has to be superficial, like a calf injury, remember that.”

“Sorry, I ended up getting carried away” He says regretfully, wrapping your legs even more around your waist, looking more at your neck, running his hand lightly over the area. "I'm sorry, darling." 

“Okay, Lee” You smile at him, running your hands through his wet hair. 

“Okay, okay. Let's go again! Get ready! Lights, cameras and action! ”

#MOVIE ★ EVENT!! #resident evil #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil leon #leon s kennedy #leon resident evil #leon re4r #leon re6 #leon s kennedy fic #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n

[eywa-eveng]

ɪᴠ. sᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ɴᴏɴᴇ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ – ᴊᴀᴋᴇ sᴜʟʟʏ, sᴜʟʟʏ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ X ᶠᴱᴹ ᴹᴱᵀᴷᴬᵞᴵᴺᴬ ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ – 12.4

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ – angst

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs – widower!Jake, major character death

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪ – ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪɪ – ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪɪɪ

ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪsᴛ – @eywas-heir @fanboyluvr @amiets2 @neteyamforlife @itscheybaby @sunrays404 @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @eternallyvenus @bobojojoba69 @behindthearcane @elegantkidfansoul @goldenmoonbeam @ladylovegood-69 @slutforsmut4ever @myheartfollower @pinkiemme @arminsgfloll @wtf-why-do-i-gotta-do-this @onlyreadz @sovereignsylvia @scc7514 @ghost-lantern @calums-betch @nao-cchi @a--1--1--3 @crazy4books1 @meladollsims @yeosxxx

Wounds will heal with time. Scabs turned to scars. And these demons have gouged deep gashes across Pandora, ravaging everything they touch with no regard for anything outside of themselves. They are the aliens setting foot in a world that is not their own and yet they treat Pandora as if she is theirs to tame. To torture and abuse. Like a diseased plant poisoning all that it’s roots tough, they take and take, never returning that which they’ve stolen. They reap without sowing and destroy everything that wanders into their path. The Great Mother has surely weeped for many years at the atrocities these sawtute have committed against her. And even those years of peace were stolen away in a heartbeat. A scar long since healed torn open to bleed once more. Pandora had prevailed once before and yet these humans have learned nothing. Ignorant as children, repeating the same mistake and hoping that this time it will be different. 

The oceans have been stained in blood by their hands. The blood of tulkun. The blood of Na’vi. But the favor has been returned and it’s now their blood that mingles with the waves. This battle may have been small, only a shadow of the might they brought down upon the forest, but they lost. What was left of their people retreated like wounded animals, chased out of the ocean back to whatever stolen piece of the forest they’ve made their home. But how long until they’ve regained their strength? How long until they return once more in search of revenge. These humans are like weeds. Cut away only to grow back once more. It will be a small miracle if they’re gone long enough for the People to heal, to grieve. Because both sides have suffered losses, though some feel greater than others. 

“Tsireya!” It’s the first word you’ve spoken in what feels like days and it sears through your throat as if you’ve swallowed fire. The clouds of smoke had not been kind to your body, feeling your lungs and making each breath feel like you’ve swallowed thorns. 

“Sa’tsmuke!” Sunlight spills over her in a wash of amber light, tears sparkling in her eyes as she finds you in the distance. Payakan had kept all of you in the cradle of his fins through the eclipse. It allowed for a fitful sort of rest in the soft rocking of the waves. It felt like the comfort of your mother’s arms gently bouncing you as your mind slowly began to stitch itself back together after coming undone by the thought of your son being one of the casualties lost to the hands of the sky demons. Even now you can hardly think further than what is in front of your eyes. Your children, your mate. Your family. You cling to the idea of them, terrified of what will happen if you allow the pain to consume you once more. To return to that great gaping maw that swallowed you whole, covered your eyes and quieted your mind to anything but seeking to make others suffer with you. It was deserved but the demons are gone. To lash out now would be to hurt those that you love. The only people that remain already share in your pain. 

A deep breath steadies your resolve. 

Tsireya stands shakily to her feet, swaying as she wraps her arms around herself, quiet sobs shaking her shoulders. She reaches for you as soon as you climb ashore the tiny stone island. 

“Tsmuke’ite,” you cup her face until her gaze steadies on your face, “where’s your brother? Where are Ao’nung and Rotxo?” She shakes her head as falls into your arms, burying her face in your chest. Her heartbeat drums against the palm of your hand settles on her back. You curl yourself around her as if there’s anything left to protect her from. The damage has been done. All you can do is pick up the pieces left behind. Her tears wet your skin as your nose presses against the shell crowning her head. She smells like home. Like comfort and safety and happiness beyond this small piece of land wet with water and blood. Her hair carries the familiar scent of dried flowers and that sour fruit so few people seem to like. Your heart pinches at the thought as your arms tighten around her. Ronal and Tsireya were always the ones to share the sour fruit with you until the Sullys arrived. Neteyam seemed to love the almost bitter taste. It pains you to think you’ll never bask in the simple joy of eating with your son again. 

The points of your fangs dig into your lower lip as you brace yourself to look over at where you know he’s lying. Tuk is at his side, holding his hand in her own. Her tears fall over his fingers and drip down his arm and still he doesn’t move. And his stillness can’t be mistaken for anything other than death. His eyes are closed but it hardly looks like he’s resting. The hole torn through his chest stands out against his deep blue skin, like a red flower blooming in his chest. The sight of it snatched the air from your lungs and the strength from your body. Lo’ak rushes to your side as Tsireya struggles to keep you standing. The ground meets your knees, stone chafing your skin, but you hardly notice. Tsireya says something. Perhaps to you, or maybe to Lo’ak. It sounds as if she’s shouting from across the horizon even as she kneels beside you. A hand touches your shoulder, just for a moment before falling away as you rise just far enough to move. Your hands keep your movements steady as you half crawl towards Neteyam’s prone body. 

There’s a deceptive sort of warmth to his skin as you reach out to touch him, fingertips brushing over his cheek. The sun casts fleeting heat across his cold body as you pull him into your lap. He’s been here for hours, cold and alone save for Tsireya and the stone beneath him is wet with a facing wash of his blood. It stains your legs as you hug him close, Tuk nuzzling against you as you wrap your arms around the both of them. Her cries are quiet as she hides her face in your side, hands clinging to the beaded strings of your chest covering. The pads of your fingers find the shape of his pil, tracing the striped pattern so different from the ripples dappling your own face. Tears cloud your vision as you brush over the softness of his lashes, desperately hoping against hope that his eyes will suddenly flutter open. 

The shape of the wound in his chest seems almost delicate. Small and insignificant if it were in another place. The ocean holds many wonders, but also great dangers. Warriors have come to you to heal far more grievous wounds. Your fingers find the shape of the wound you’d stitched only weeks ago. It has healed well, only a slightly raised scar, a pale slash across his arm. He bled then too. It had seemed like such a simple thing to heal. A needle and thread to soothe the hurt, but some things are beyond your abilities as tsakarem. Even a tsahìk would be powerless to this injury. 

The thought weighs heavy in your heart. Already so much has been taken and still there is more to lose. But these things have a reason. There is balance in all that Eywa does. The Great Mother protects the balance of life no matter the cost. All things have a reason even when you cannot See it. This pain has blinded you, closed your heart. Your chest feels cold and empty as if the flame of your soul has burned out. Perhaps it has. The only thing left burning inside are the tears in your eyes, clouding your vision even as you try to focus on Neteyam’s face. To carve him into your memory before he is washed and committed to the ocean, returned to Eywa. Soon a search party will be sent to find those stranded and your family will be among them. Neteyam will be taken home. His adornments will be removed and his body washed in preparation for his burial, but you want to stay here for a while longer. To count the pale freckles dotted across his cheeks, to remember the pattern of stripes crowning his forehead. 

Someone says your name. Gentle as a warm breeze as you hug Neteyam close, cheek pressed against his braided hair. A shadow falls over your back, blocking out the warmth of the sun and reminding you just how cold Neteyam feels in your arms. 

“Come here, yuey.” Jake whispers. It’s his hands that move you more than any will of your own, gently unwinding your arms until Neteyam is laying on the ground once more with Tuk still at his side. It seems wrong to leave him there. Stone isn’t as gentle as sand. Surely his tswin is being pinched under the weight of his head. You reach to push a stray braid away from his face but Jake catches your fingers with his own. His grip is insistent as he pulls you away. Kiri takes your place at Neteyam’s side, taking his hand in hers just as Tuk had. You watch over them as Jake pulls you aside and wraps you in his embrace, arms tighten until the air is crushed from your lungs but you hardly protest. His grip is grounding though you can’t help but wonder how long this strength will last. Already you can see the splinters forming in the crease between his brows, in the hard line of his lips and the pain swirling like a storm in his eyes. 

“Monkey boy.” Kiri’s voice is quiet, only the faintest hint of relief ringing in her otherwise doleful tone. Her eyes are staring past you and you turn to find the same human god threatened on the demon ship. He looks different now that your mind isn’t fogged with mournful violence. When he was under your knife you hadn’t cared much for the finer details of his appearance, but now you stare at him with a renewed sense of curiosity. He boasts the trappings of a Na’vi and yet he still seems so strange and out of place. 

“Are you alright?” Jake asks, fingertips brushing over the scratch you’d left on his chest. It’s shallow as you’d expected and the bleeding has long since stopped. He nods but he eyes you warily before stepping away from the two of you. He joins the children around Neteyam’s body, speaking your language with assured fluidity. On the ship he had spoken in the human language but now he seems comfortable as he speaks to Kiri and Lo’ak, gently touching Neteyam’s arm. You stiffen, tail swaying tensely behind you. 

“Shh,” Jake whispers, nuzzling his nose against your temple as he feels your muscles tighten in his arms. “He’s okay. He’s safe.” You aren’t sure if he means the boy or Neteyam who can no longer be hurt by the hands of a tawtute. You watch him as he interacts with your family. Tsireya eyes him warily, sharing a fleeting glance with you even as Lo’ak speaks to him with a familiarity akin to that he shares with his siblings. All of the Sully children seem at ease in his presence but you find yourself still wondering about his ties to humanity. The man that held your daughters captive, that nearly killed your mate, hesitated at the thought of this human boy dying by your hand. He hadn’t seemed so worried over his band of uniltìrantokx warriors and it makes you nervous to think of what importance he holds to the demons terrorizing your home. He must feel the weight of your gaze as you scrutinize him, picking out the finer details of his appearance, because his shoulders begin to curl as if he can become any smaller. 

His hair is loc’d like Jake’s and adorned with beads, and you notice the end of a braid hanging down his back. Likely his equivalent of a tswin. A scowl finds its way onto your face, lip curling with distaste. Seeing something so sacred being mimicked by a human feels almost insulting. Your shoulders rise as your body seizes with disgust only to be soothes by Jake’s soft petting as he traces the shape of the stripes swirling across your shoulder beneath his fingers. You feel all five of them gliding across your skin. Five fingers. The same amount that Lo’ak has. That Kiri has. That this boy before you has. If he is so repugnant then what is keeping you from feeling repulsed by your mate and the family he’s given you. Your eyes move away from the braid, tracing over the rest of him. His armbands are handsomely made, the pattern indicative of the Omatikaya’s intricate weaving style. His tewng is comparatively plain but there is a songcord hanging from it. 

“Sa’nok,” Kiri says warily, watching you watch the boy. She had always spoken so fondly of her human friend and now she seems almost resigned to your displeasure. Hearing about him is different from seeing him before you, and suddenly you can’t reconcile the thought of this seemingly peaceful boy with the demons that attacked your family only a few hours ago. Not when he meant something to one of them. Norm and Max had been abandoned by their people, left here to live out their lives in a place that they loved. They made sacrifices to be here. What has this boy done but aided the demons that attacked your home. Speaking the tongue of your people only to demand to know where Jake had hidden himself away in a desperate attempt to live in peace. 

“Sa’nok, please.” Kiri tries again. You do your best to smooth out your expression and ease your body until a tenuous sort of neutrality returns to your face. Tsireya seems to calm with you, shoulders relaxing under Lo’ak’s arm. The boy–Spider–looks between all of you, as if he’s trying to piece together the threads that bind you to them. But he speaks Na’vi. He must know what sa’nok means. His eyes are brown and full of hesitancy as he stands to face you. So strange that you can See into him the same way you can with your People. 

“Spider,” Jake says finally, introducing you by name. “This is my mate.” 

“She is the sister of tsahìk of the Metkayina. A tsakarem.” Kiri adds. Spider nods but it hardly relieves the tension between the two of you. Part of you wonders if this is how Ronal felt when the Sullys first arrived. These strange new people, coming to join your clan despite their obvious differences. But if her animosity had been misplaced then, so too is yours now. This boy is loved by those that you hold in your heart. Even still he doesn’t seem any more at ease than he’d been a moment ago. 

There’s a dip between his brows where the fear on his face has gathered. He’s frightened again. Though not nearly as terrified as he’d been with your blade against his skin. He looks afraid, but not of you. In his eyes the fear seems to run deeper than your appearance. This Spider does not fear Na’vi. And yet he is still afraid. He shrinks back when you take a step towards him, curiously staring into his brown eyes as if the dark depths will become clearer with closeness. Surely you aren’t easing his nerves with your continued silence, but you’re listening for something. A shift in the wind, a rogue screech of a hì’ikran. Anything that might tell you what Eywa wills you should do with this boy. When nothing comes you wonder if she’s already given you your answer. This boy is no threat to you or your family. He is precious to your children. That should be enough. Especially now when so much has already been lost. To turn him away would be to further fracture your family. Still you’re curious.

“Oel ngati kameie.” He bows, hand extending towards you in a customary greeting. You hum in acknowledgment but don’t share the sentiment. Just like his tswin you can’t help but wonder if he fully realizes the weight of his words or if he’s simply mimicking those around him. His body is adorned with fading war paint, stripes streaking across his skin in uneven lines. There’s no pattern to the blue markings as there would be on a Na’vi. It seems strange that someone like him hasn’t decided on a more traditional design for his paint. It’s almost childish how desperate the thick lines are, how obviously they’re meant to mimic the sharper stripes of a forest Na’vi. 

“Where is your family?” You ask at last. Spider seizes as if you’ve struck him but you spoke softly, keenly aware that all your screaming had whittled your voice down to a rasped drawl that might make him hear anger where none was meant to be found. 

“My mother is dead. And my father… he’s dead, too.” He looks away as he says this but you don’t need to see his eyes to know that isn’t the truth. A lie. A word Jake had to teach you. Something different from the truth. You don’t ask again. If he wants to lie to you then you will let him live in his delusion. No one corrects him and you wonder if they know he isn’t speaking truthfully. 

“This is my family.” He says after a beat of silence. His voice breaks as he looks down at Neteyam. You hum and turn your back to him, eyes facing towards the horizon where riders will soon come to take you home. They arrive as you listen to the faint voices of the children reuniting with their friend. The soft screeching of skimwings echo over the open water followed by the long bellow of a horn. A scattering of voices whoop and yip in return as those left behind make their presence known. Your own voice joins the calls, the sharp sound burning your throat. Riderless tsuraks and ilus swim through the water and you mount the first one you find. The ilu tosses its long neck as you make tsaheylu, clicking as the storm in your mind mingles with their own. Tuk rides with you, her little arms clinging tight to your waist as you ride back to the village. 

A net of silence has been cast over the island. The shallows are empty and the beach deserted, chores abandoned in favor of mending what’s been broken by the humans. Battle is not unknown to Na’vi. Clans fight amongst themselves when peace cannot be made with words. The humans had ravaged Pandora before. But never here. Never in the far reaches of the ocean reefs. Even the tulkun that had been killed were murdered far to the south. Now the shadow these demons cast has finally fallen over Awa’atlu. Kiri takes Tuk as all of you arrive home, leading her to the marui. All of the children trail behind Jake as he carries Neteyam’s body. He looks so small in his father’s arms. It’s your instinct to follow, to comfort. Instead you find yourself hand in hand with Tsireya as you make your way to your sister’s home. 

Tonowari is the first to notice your arrival, nostrils flaring as he catches the scent of you and his daughter on the breeze. He meets you on the path overhanging the water, arms winding painfully around the both of you before he kneels before Tsireya. A gracious sigh comes from inside the marui as Ronal emerges with Ao’nung at her side. She goes to her daughter first, hands moving over her body in search of any wound that needs tending. Ao’nung strays toward you, head knocking against your shoulder. He doesn’t speak but his actions are enough. You rest a hand on his head. Not quite a hug but enough to offer comfort. He hesitates before grabbing your arm and leaning into the weight of your hand resting on his braided hair. 

“Tsmuke.” Ronal moves in beside her son, eyes tracing over you. “You’re hurt. Come.” There’s no leniency in her words as she pulls you inside and sits you next to the cookfire. The needle stings as she threads the torn skin of your arm back together with meticulous hands, rubbing a soothing balm over the wound when she’s finished. The pain had already calmed to a manageable throb after being ignored for so long and now it feels all but numbed. 

“What happened?” She asks after returning her healing items to their rightful place. “I felt your tirea so vividly but I could not find you. We searched but the demons were retreating. We had to look after the clan. We–I thought–” she gathers herself with a long breath, “I’m glad to see you safe.” 

Ronal has never been a coddling person that speaks gently and soothes worries with softened words. She is plain in her speech, pointed and assured even with her own children. It has always been this way growing up in her shadow. You were kept under her impartial guidance in all things and even now she isn’t inclined to soften her strong voice, but she can do nothing to mask the worry she felt even if she hasn’t said it in so many words. The fear she must’ve felt turning for home without her daughter and sister at her side must’ve stabbed through her like an arrow but Ronal is tsahìk before she is anything else. The clan looks to her and Tonowari for guidance and they cannot waver no matter the circumstances. Though your olo’eyktan is more open with his fears. 

“You are a fearsome warrior, but I feared for your death when we could not find you. I stayed until the last of our mounted warriors had retreated, praying that the Great Mother would spare our tsakarem.” 

“Eywa has heard you.” You hum with little enthusiasm. “I was on the demon ship. They took Kiri. They had Tuk and Tsireya. I couldn’t leave them.” Tsireya looks towards the floor, ears pulled back tight as she leans heavily against her father. He holds her close, thumb rubbing soothing circles into her arm. A parent reunited with their child. You understood the need to keep her close. You’d felt it when you saw her stranded and alone on that little island, felt it when you saw Kiri and Tuk bound on the demon ship. A part of your family has been reunited but there is still a fragment missing. A piece that will never be replaced. Your hand finds the length of your songcord, thumb drawing over each piece in turn. Your first breath, your selection as tsakarem, your iknimaya. The whole of your life is strung here. And it will continue. Already there is a need for new additions. But so many cords were cut short in the battle. The threads slip through your fingers as your hands begin to shake. The bitter taste returns to your mouth as you try to find the words through the rising tears. 

“I found Kiri and Tuk after Tsireya escaped, but–” your voice cracks as tears rise in your eyes once more, “I couldn’t protect them all. I–we lost Neteyam.” 

“Neteyam? He–?” Ronal’s eyes find yours in an instant. Her eyes are wide with panic as her hands find yours now tightened to fists to keep the tremors at bay. You can imagine what she is thinking. How could Neteyam, the promising warrior, son of Toruk Makto, be lost in battle? Tonowari looks just as disbelieving. He has seen Neteyam’s prowess, trained him alongside Ao’nung and the others. His death must seem impossible and yet he is gone just the same. 

“He is with Eywa now.” Is all you can muster. Your sister bows her head, eyes unblinking as she hears your words. When she meets your gaze again her eyes are resigned. It’s the same dark cast her green eyes had taken when Jake insisted on sending away the tulkun. Disbelief and rejection linger in her voice when she finally speaks. 

“Go to them.” A basket is hastily filled with food before she leads you outside. “Your family needs you now.” The path from your sister to your mate is a familiar one and you arrive to find the children gathered outside the marui. The covering meant to keep out wind and rain is drawn closed and Jake is nowhere to be seen. Still, you tend to your children first. Tuk is hugged against Lo’ak’s side and Kiri and Spider are sitting in the canoe just beyond their hanging feet. There are no words exchanged as you offer each of them food, hesitating for a moment before offering some to Spider. He doesn’t protest when Kiri snatched the leaf wrapped meat from him, carefully picking through it before rewrapping it. They haven’t eaten in hours and you watch them carefully as they take their first bites, keeping a close eye on Spider. 

He takes a deep breath before his mask hissed as he pulls it away just long enough to fit a gluttonous bite into his mouth. It must be easier to take larger bites than prolong his time without proper air. You find yourself waiting for something terrible to happen. It isn’t uncommon for children to explore the world with their mouth, eating anything that looks enticing. But some things are poisonous, meant to be consumed by animals that have developed immunities to them. But when Spider doesn’t begin to choke or itch you deem it safe to leave them to eat. You’re still weary of him but far too exhausted by loss to let another child slip between your fingers today. Human or otherwise. 

Inside you find Jake kneeling beside Neteyam’s body, the faint blue light of the sun peeking through the marui membrane, the only thing lighting the somber home. His ears twitch at the sound of your approach but he makes no move to look at you. He takes in a deep breath through his nose, scenting the air instead of turning to see who you are. Only when you’re within arm’s reach does he move, his hand finding yours in a nearly painful grip as he pulls you down beside him. He curls himself around you until you’re nearly in his lap. 

“I’m sorry.” He says it over and over, nearly choking on the words as the air refuses to stay in his lungs. Each inhale is shallow and rushed, too quick as each exhale rushes across your neck. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, clinging impossibly closer. His tail finds its way around you, the tuft of hair tickling your skin though you hardly feel like laughing as you watch your mate fall apart in your arms with no way to hold him together. He had been strong for all of you but at last the tide has turned. 

“She killed him. I killed him. All of it was for nothing. I’m supposed to protect the People and I can’t even protect my own son.” 

Your skin is wet with tears where he’s hidden his face. Even if you wanted to, you can’t pull away from him. He’s holding you tight, blunt nails biting into your skin as if even the slightest bit of slack in his embrace will leave space for something to take you away. He’s shattering like splintered wood and it’s all you can do to gather the pieces back together. He lets you. His cries grow quiet and his breaths slow as you try your best to soothe him. It’s only a temporary consolation. This type of pain isn’t one that can be healed with salves or prayers. Even tsahìk cannot heal this wound. Grief is something that only passes with time. And even if you like a thousand years it’s almost certain a part of you will die still mourning your son. 

“I failed him.” Jake mumbles. His voice sounds utterly defeated. “A father protects. That was my job. Above anything else I’m supposed to protect my family. I couldn’t even do that. My son–” his words break off into a choked sob as he shakes his head. “My boy.” He touches Neteyam at last, his hand settling against his son’s cheek while the other keeps you close. “Neteyam.” Tears fall onto Neteyam’s cheeks as Jake bows over him. His eyes flit across his face, looking at every detail before he finally sits back. 

“I wish we had more time.” Jake whispers. It breaks your heart, or what’s left of it, shredding the few fragile pieces that remain. No father wants to bury their child. Neteyam was meant to grow up, grow old. Be laid to rest long after Jake was gone. Now here you sit. Returning such a young soul to the Great Mother. 

“I wish you had more time with him. He loved you, you know. I know he might not have said it much, but he did.” Jake’s hands hesitate as he takes Neteyam’s songcord from its place hanging on his loincloth. Some beads you know from when he would hum the melody of his life during quieter moments. His iknimaya, the shell marking his arrival in Awa’atlu. But there’s another close after. One you’d assumed was a chorus bead, a placeholder between events. Events that would never come. There’d be no bead for his Metkayina iknimaya. No bead for his mate. No bead for his first child or a triumph in battle. Every cord must have a last bead and it seems the one Jake is rolling between his fingers will be it. It’s a pearl, pale blue and lustrous in the muted light. 

“This one’s for you.” Jake says, gently placing the waytelem in your hands. “It matches his mother’s.” There’s another bead, farther back in his life story. A light blue bead of stone laced with black veins. “This was the bead for her death. He wanted yours to match hers as a show of his love and respect for both of you.” It’s not until Jake thumbs away the moisture gathering on your cheeks that you realize you’re crying. Of course you knew Neteyam loved you. A tsakarem is taught to See all, to feel the ties that bond each being to Eywa and each other. When you quiet your mind and steady your soul, pushing aside any thoughts and worries you can almost feel the people around you. Their triumphs and tribulations. Their happiness and sorrows. Just as clearly as you can see it in their eyes, their tirea can be felt like the warmth of a flame wafting off their skin. 

Neteyam always radiated calm and contentment when he was at your side. You often found him accompanying you in your chores the same as Kiri. The eldest of your children preferring the more subdued space of your marui to the mischief Lo’ak and Tuk seemed to stir the moment you take your eyes off them. Now there is nothing surrounding him, no air of comfort as you stare at his serene face. Nothing. This is only a body, waiting to be returned to the earth. Neteyam has been gone for hours, his vitra already passed into the hands of Eywa. 

“We have to clean him.” You say finally, rising to gather some water. The freshwater spring isn’t far from the Sully marui and you find others there. Bowed heads and solemn faces as they gather their fill of water. Death is not uncommon. Life must always be returned in the end. Energy is only borrowed and one day you have to give it back. This is the way. And it is good. Eywa holds all those that have passed into her hands. No one is truly gone, and yet you will never see your son again. Not truly. The Ranteng Utralti will offer brief glimpses, small moments of comfort. But it won’t be lasting. No new memories will be made. No changes will be seen in his face. He will remain as he was while everything continues to change without him. Death has parted him and only death will reunite you in the Great Mother’s arms. Jake is still where you left him when you return, Lo’ak following close behind you.

“It is time.” You say gently. Jake nods. He’s slow in his work as he washes the blood from Neteyam’s skin. Taking off each of his adornments and setting them aside. His necklace, his armbands. They’ll be kept as memories, passed down to his siblings or their children as cherished items. Lo’ak puts them away with care. It’s plain on his face that he has many things he wishes to say but has resigned himself to the silence. You busy yourself with weaving, the familiarity of the task is strangely comforting even as you weave the bindings Neteyam will wear as he’s returned to Eywa. It takes hours, long enough for day to give way to evening as the sky begins to darken to dusk. Finally you set aside the last of your weaving to stand. It is time to allow everyone to say their final goodbyes. Jake has already had his time with Neteyam as he washed the blood and sweat from his body. Now he leaves you to say your parting words.

It’s so strange to touch him and know he will not move, to breathe in and find his scent stale in their air as if he hasn’t been here in many hours. And truly he hasn’t. The body before you is empty of life. Neteyam is gone. But there’s still a small comfort in sitting beside him one last time. 

“We didn’t have long together did we?” You ask quietly, a sad laugh leaving your lips. “Even if it was only for a moment it has been an honor being your mother. Did you know your sempul still hasn’t told me your mother’s name. I’ve been too afraid to ask. You’re likely with her now. I’d like to think she’ll be happy to see you but I’m sure it’s a bittersweet reunion. And I’m sorry I could not do more to protect you. Our Great Mother protects only the balance of life, but if she willed it I would trade my life for yours. But what’s past has passed, all I can say now is goodbye, maitan. Until we meet again.” His skin is cold beneath your lips as you press a parting kiss to his forehead. When you emerge Kiri stands with Spider in hand. They duck inside and you leave them to their privacy. 

Instead you find your way to your own marui. It stands as little more than a place to keep your things since finally being convinced to sleep with your mate in his own home without feeling as though you’re imposing. You’ve had your time with him. Now it is their turn to whisper their goodbyes. 

“Here you are.” Jake stands at the entrance of your home, back turned to the darkening sky. The freckles dotted across his skin are beginning to glow faintly. The pattern is interrupted by a slash across the bridge of his nose, dipping over his cheek. You hadn’t noticed it before but now it gives you purpose. Just as weaving had you find a distraction in healing. 

“You’re hurt. Come here.” You light the fire pit in the center of your pod, before finding a needle and thread. Jake’s eyes don’t leave your face as you stitch up his wound. When you’re done he doesn’t allow you to pull away. Instead his hands settle on your face, bringing your head close until your nose is pressed against his. One hand leaves your cheek to reach behind you, brushing over the curls of your hair before settling over the braid of your tswin. He draws it over your shoulder, bringing it to his lips. For a moment you expect him to ask for tsaheylu so that you might share this burden of pain, but it would only feel heavier as it weighs on both of you. Instead his lips brush against the braided hair for a moment longer before letting it fall between you. 

“Tsmuke.” You’re drawn apart by the sound of Ronal’s voice. She arrives with her arms full, footsteps slowing as she sees Jake by your side. Her eyes turn away but you catch the edge of regret in her eyes. It’s been there in fleeting bouts in the months since the Sullys have begun learning the ways of your clan. She’s slowly grown past her previous misgivings even as things have ended in this way. With the sawtute turning their eyes towards your peaceful home in search of the man seated beside you.

“Jakesully,” she say at last, inclining her head towards him, “may Eywa ease your spirit.” Jake returns her show of respect, touching his brow and extending his hand towards her. 

“Tsmuke,” she says evenly, “you are our tsakarem.” You aren’t the only one but you’re surely the eldest. The most experience and the most respected within the clan. Tsireya has inherited the honor as well with a few others but only one will be named tsahìk when Ronal passes down the mantle. “Will you lead with me tonight?” 

The clan hasn’t suffered a loss this great in many years. Usually only one, perhaps two people are committed to Eywa in such a ceremony but tonight there will be many lives returned to the Great Mother’s hands. Ronal extends her own hand, balancing the basket she’s holding on her hip. She pulls you to stand but Jake doesn’t allow her to take you farther than necessary. His tail coils around your ankle before you can take even a half step away from him. His eyes don’t meet yours when you look down at him and he says nothing as you accept your sister’s request to lead with her. It is your duty to your people no matter the occasion. Eywa has chosen you for this and you can’t turn her back on her when you so desperately need her guidance. 

The sky has turned a deep shade of blue like the darkest depths of the ocean, dotted with pearls of light as stars shine overhead. The village flickers in shades of orange and red, finally stirring after a day of lingering silence. A song lingers on the breeze, the familiar sound of chorus beads and the intimate words of each Na’vi’s life. Ngaru irayo seiyi ayoe… You know these words by heart. They’re the words that you sing in your heart as you trace the beads of your own songcord. Your hand finds your hip where you keep the cord wound around your tewng. The beads and crystals, bones and coral that symbolize your life. Jake’s fingers draw over yours before slipping his hand into yours. 

The covering is drawn back by the time you return, Kiri’s voice carrying outside as she sings the beads of Neteyam’s songcord. Jake’s hand tightens in yours as he listens to your daughter sing. Her voice lulls over the last words before your home falls silent once more. All of the children have come to hear Neteyam’s waytelem. Tsireya and Ao’nung have come along with Rotxo as they kneel around Neteyam’s body to hear Kiri sing. Such an honor is only given to those closest to you and everyone here cared deeply for your son. There won’t be another chance to be beside him after this moment. Soon the ceremony will begin and Jake kneels beside him, carefully bundling Neteyam into the ties that you’ve woven. Tsireya offers you a jar of paint in customary white. It’s cold against your skin as Jake drags his fingers from your forehead to your chest. You return the favor, painting each of the children in turn. And when people finally begin to gather in the shallow waters you shrug on the woven shawl Ronal gave you as Kiri straightens the veil upon your head. 

Firelight drifts over the gentle waves as Ronal’s voice rings out across the shore. She calls to Eywa to open her arms to her children, to hold each of them in turn. Your brothers and sisters, each treasured members of the Metkayina are pulled out to sea in their sämunge surrounded by those that were closest. Mother, fathers, siblings, mates, children. Tonowari announces their names as they’re given over to the anemones lighting up the ocean with yellow syuratan. The grasping fronds glow brighter as each body is accepted into the watery earth. Returned to Eywa. 

“Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan.” Tonowari’s voice echoes into the night as you step away from Ronal’s side as she opens her arms to send Neteyam home, joining your family as Jake leads the ilu over the open water. Pale pink flowers trail behind as you carefully pull Neteyam from the woven carrier. His tanhì are still dark, no light glowing from within. There’s nothing left of your heart to break as each of you takes a final moment with him. Jake’s eyes find yours as you hold Neteyam above the water. He isn’t ready, but when will you ever be ready to part with your child? Lo’ak lingers beside you, his hand resting on Neteyam’s head until you and Jake pull him beneath the water. One swaying frond touches his skin, brightening until it’s nearly white. Another and another until they’re pulling him from your hands, wrapping Neteyam in their grasping arms and pulling him deep into their embrace. He disappears all too quickly. Blue skin lost in the sea of yellow. Part of you wants him back but that desperation won’t be quelled by holding his body. Neteyam is gone. Clinging to his body won’t bring back your son. Your tears mingle with the ocean as you linger longer than the others, knowing you’re meant to sing when you rise again. But it is your duty and you must do it. 

“Utralä Anawm ayrina’lu ayoeng.” We are all seeds of the Great Tree. Words you know by heart. Words you’ve sung many times. Words that sting your tongue as you sing them for Neteyam. For all that were lost to the hands of those demons. How had a day like any other darkened so deeply with a storm that seems as if it will never pass. The clouds crowd your mind and darken your heart. It’s cold, and desperately lonely even as you stand beside your sister with the clan at your back. This pain is yours and yours alone. Others have lost those they love but they haven’t lost Neteyam. They haven’t lost those small pieces of him that you would never get back. It feels selfish to feel so anguished, to be so utterly consumed by this darkness of grief. You only had him by your side for a short time, but even so you loved him. He was your son. You were his mother. And now he is gone. 

When the night draws to a close and the People retreat to their homes you find yourself wandering the shore. The ceremonial garbs have been abandoned somewhere behind you. Perhaps slipping carelessly into the sand or maybe you’d given them back to Ronal. You can’t quite remember but the air feels cool against your suddenly bared skin. Your hands run over your arms as you hug them around yourself, feeling the prickles flesh of your cold skin under your fingertips. Despite the slight chill of the night you find yourself wandering further than you have a need to, walking aimlessly until sand turns to dirt underfoot. Burst of blue and green light come to life with each step as the treeline swallows you. The forest holds a different type of silence. The sound of waves breaking over the shore is replaced with the buzzing and chirping of unseen insects and the sound of wind rustling through the leaves. 

Fatigue creeps over you like a tree taking root, threatening to bind you where you stand. Two days you have fighting. The demons and your own grief-stricken mind, and finally it is beginning to take its toll on your body. Each of your footsteps is slower than the last, your legs feeling heavier with every passing moment. The forest is still bright with syuratan that dapples your skin in shades of purple and green but darkness is starting to creep in around you, tears only working to further disrupt your vision. So soon after you’ve been blessed with everything you could ask for it was taken away. The sea gives and the sea takes, no matter when your blessings were received. All life must remain balanced and equal. It is your sole purpose as tsakarem to abide by Eywa’s will, to uphold the Great Mother’s balance. But the mantle feels too heavy to bear at this moment. 

Your feet slip, knees going weak, and fall to the ground. You’ve asked for so little in this life. Never wanting more than that which was given. Your heart never darkened against your sister when she was bestowed the honor of tsahìk. Never once did your happiness falter when those around you were mated and blessed with children. And when finally the tides turn in your favor a wave comes to wash it all away. Your arms tighten around yourself, nails biting into your skin as you curl in on yourself. Content to let this terrible moment pass in the cradle of the forest floor. Now you will allow yourself to grieve, allow the ugly, terrible feelings to overtake you. Your tears seep into the soil as your cheek rests in the dirt. Each breath is gasping and shallow as a weight like a thousand stones threatens to bury your prone body and return you to the earth as well. 

The silence is nearly deafening until it isn’t. The lull of the forest is broken by the sound of something tearing through the trees. Too heavy to be a benign animal, yet too loud to be a hunting predator. There’s a stiffness to your limbs as you try to sit up, rolling to your knees in time to see Lo’ak vaulting over a fallen tree. 

“Sa’nok!” He stumbles to a stop in front of you. 

“Lo’ak? Why are you here?” He should be asleep. 

“Why am I here?” He asks incredulously. “Why are you here? I’ve been looking all over the village for you!” Why are you here? You hadn’t meant to walk so far, to get so lost in your own head. Instead of answering you find your feet and begin walking the way he came. Despite his loud approach Lo’ak has left hardly any trace of his presence aside from the dimming light where his feet had been only moments ago. Veins of syuratan ripple like water through the ground, rising and fading as your son walks beside you. Grass turns to sand and the light of Naranawm washes over both of you. 

“I’m sorry,” Lo’ak finally says, breaking the comfortable silence between you, “I’m sorry about Neteyam.” 

“It was not your fault, Lo’ak.”

“But it was!” He is suddenly in front of you, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I was the one that said we should get Spider. Neteyam saved us and now he is gone because of me.” You hear his words before you speak, turning each one over in your mind. Of course it was not Lo’ak that killed his brother. He loved Neteyam. You raise his head with a hand under his chin, nearly drowning in the amount of guilt shining in his yellow eyes. 

“It is no fault of yours, maitan. Many lives were lost. No one is to blame except the demons from the sky. They brought this storm upon us, not you.” He pulls away from you, pacing in the sand. It seems he won’t allow his guilt to dissipate so easily. You sigh and close your eyes, turning to the Great Mother for guidance. It’s a lesson you learned as tsakarem. Eywa speaks when thoughts are quiet and hearts are open. 

Somewhere in the wind there’s a whisper of her voice. It’s a simple breeze brushing through the mangroves but you hear more. Somewhere in the stillness of your focus you hear the sound of a tulkun singing, slow and mournful. The same song that filled the air as you and Ronal laid Roa to rest yet the voice in your head isn’t as deep, still light with youth. A young tulkun mourning its mother. And then more. Many more. Na’vi and tulkun, all dead in bloodstained water. One remains, a single voice. Payakan. Your eyes jump open as if you’ve been struck. Eywa’s meaning is clear as the stars overhead as you look at your son. Lo’ak is still pacing and muttering to himself. 

“But if I hadn’t asked… if I’d left Spider–”

“Neteyam might’ve died even still. Perhaps not on the demon ship but those ayvrrtep were everywhere in the water. What did you tell me when you bonded with Payakan?” His feet finally come to a stop as he thinks over it. 

“Those Na’vi died, but it wasn’t Payakan that killed them. He wasn’t trying to hurt anyone.” 

“And neither were you. We are not tulkun. Their way is not our law. I know Neteyam’s death is heavy on your heart, but it is not your fault, maitan. Who is to say he would not have been struck by their metal arrows later. It is the sawtute that should carry this guilt.” He sniffles and nods, eyes still staring at the sand, then he lets out a watery laugh. 

“Bullets.” 

Your ear twitches, “What?”

“The metal arrows are called ‘bullets.’” You taste the foreign word on your tongue. It’s your deepest hope that you will never have to say the word again, but it’s a naive thought. War has come to Awa’atlu and it will not end until every hostile human on Pandora is dead. But these are worries for another day. War is a heavy burden and you are barely carrying the weight of your son’s death. You draw Lo’ak into your arms and press a kiss to the top of his head. He smells like the ocean and home. It makes your heart long for the comfort of your family, of your mate’s warmth and the sound of Tuk’s purring snores. You’re tired and you both should sleep but for a moment more you find yourself standing still as Lo’ak wets your skin with silent tears. 

The horizon is hidden behind the silhouette of the seawall. A small piece of protection around the village. But somewhere beyond, over the horizon yet far closer than they should be, the humans are lurking deep in the forest. Or perhaps they’re even closer, building a nest for themselves on some island just out of sight. The threat is great but you’re already so tired. Tired of the fighting and the death that it brings. It makes you wonder how tired Jake must be. 

He doesn’t look peaceful even as he sleeps. His face is pinched, brows drawn tight as you finally lay down beside him. Lo’ak finds his own bedroll, the place next to him occupied by Spider instead of Neteyam. When you lay down Jake stirs just long enough to wrap his arm around you before falling still once more, and you wake to the feeling of his tail slipping from its place curled over your thigh. 

The sky is already alight with light far past a blushing dawn. Voices and sounds float in from beyond the open marui as village life moves on. One day at a time. A first step and then a second until you’ll lose count and look back to see how far you’ve come. The pain will linger. A familiar smell or a comforting melody might bring echoes of pain to the surface like ripples across still water, but with time your heart will heal if you don’t allow the grief still clinging like a second skin to consume you. Just one step, one day. 

Kiri kneels next to the cookfire, turning over carved skewers of fish. Lo’ak is missing as is Tuk, but you can hear her voice somewhere nearby, giggling and splashing in the shallow waters. Spider lingers in the shadiest part of your home, knees curled up to his knees as he watches Kiri cook. He’s uncomfortable, you can tell just in his posture. Pulled up tight into himself as if he will disappear from view if he can make himself small enough. He seems almost ashamed of himself, of everything that he is. He seems so like your children and yet no amount of warpaint will hide his true nature. Still, you quell the animosity still festering deep inside you. There is no time to dwell on darkness. If you stay still and wallow in these feelings, you’ll be lost. 

“Good morning.” It’s a tentative extension of kindness, kinder than the few words you’d had for him yesterday. Spider raises his head, eyes darting between Kiri and Jake as if your eyes aren’t resting pointedly on his face. Kiri returns your greeting, murmuring about Lo’ak having already left to tend to his chores. It’s a distraction for him, you’re sure. It is easy to forget yourself in the needs of the many. You imagine it’s why Kiri is cooking. Busy hands, quiet minds. 

“Good morning.” Spider says at last. It is enough. One step. You rise with Jake as he stands to leave. 

“Where are you going?” 

“I have to speak with Tonowari.” His face is guarded, eyes clouded as he tries to hide his intentions from you. He’s pulling away and you reach for him. It’s instinctual. He is your mate, your love, and you want to stand beside him. 

“Ma Jake, what is wrong?” So much is wrong, so much hurts. You want to bear this burden with him. Let me, you want to say. Spiritual burdens are something you were taught to See. The bond between Jake and the Great Mother still holds strong, the rope has not frayed. Eywa has not abandoned him and he has not turned his back on her. So what is so wrong that he would hide his eyes from you? He doesn’t explain himself as you trail behind him, hand still in his. You pull hard, planting your feet against the path until he can go no further without letting you go. He hesitates before his hand falls away from your own. For a moment it feels as though the world has fallen away completely, that there’s nothing left to ground you now that he’s pulled away. Anxiety rushes through you like bitter poison, pricking over every inch of your skin as tears begin to burn in your eyes. His rejection stings more than any other you’ve felt in your life. Every terrible thought rushes to the surface all at once. 

“Jake?” Your voice wobbles as your arms hang limply at your sides. His shoulders rise and fall with a heaving sigh before he turns to face you. 

“Ma muntxate.” His hands find your face and you, thumbs brushing over the shape of your cheeks. There’s conflict in his eyes, uncertainty, as if he is standing at the edge of a cliff wondering which way he should step. Away from danger. Away from whatever is causing him so much strife. The look in his eye is different than the pain you saw yesterday. It isn’t the futile longing of a father. It’s something more resigned. Whatever he wants to tell Tonowari, it shadows any of his own feelings. 

“Don’t.” You say quietly. “Please, don’t. Whatever you are thinking, please, don’t do it.” He’s heard your words but doesn’t seem to take them into his heart. Instead he presses his forehead against yours. The world falls quiet for a brief moment. You feel grounded once more even as Jake pulls away with no intention to heed your words. 

“Nga yawne lu oer.” And he means it. There’s no glint of deception in his eyes. Jake loves you as you love him and yet something inside you feels as though you’re losing him. Each step he takes away is like a thread straining and if you don’t follow it will break. His pace is slow as if he dreads what he is about to do. All it would take is a moment’s hesitation. If he would just turn around it would quell the panic rising in your heart. 

Tonowari and Ronal rise as they see the two of you coming towards them. Jake trudging somberly with you quick at his heels. Ronal looks between the two of you, setting aside the spear arrow in her hand. 

“What is this?” She asks before Tonowari can speak. Jake swallows thickly before he answers.  

“My family and I, we’ll move on tomorrow. Far away from here.” Ronal takes a half step away from him as if moved off balance by his words. You feel the same. A weakness builds in your knees as you try to step towards him, to see his face, his eyes, and know what he is thinking. This is his home. Your home. He has built a life for his family–your family–here. You’d promised to follow him, but hearing the words makes you realize the path you’ve laid for yourself. A new life in a new place, far from anything you’ve ever known. Wherever you go it will be a place your previous life cannot follow. Ronal, Tonowari, the children, your spirit sister. They’d all be left behind. The thread begins to break. 

Tonowari nods but it is a gesture you’ve come to recognize as disapproval. He is acknowledging Jake’s words but he will not heed them. 

“Your son lies with our ancestors. You are mated with our tsakarem. This is your home.”

“Now you must stand with us. As our brother.” Ronal’s voice is steadfast though Jake still seems to hesitate even before the words of his tsahìk and olo’eyktan.

“I caused all of this. They were looking for me, for my family.” 

“And we are here.” Ronal’s voice echoes your own as the two of you speak in tandem. 

“You are Metkayina now.” Tonowari extends his hand expectantly. Jake looks at it, then at you. As if trying to decide if this is truly what he wanted. A moment passes before he clasps Tonowari’s forearm, committing himself to his place within the clan. With time, when Jake has fully committed his heart to the Metkayina, he might become eyktanay and stand beside Tonowari. The clan needs his guidance now more than ever. War is inevitable. All that’s left now is to prepare for the coming storm. He’s quiet as you walk away, aimless steps weaving through the village paths. 

“I’m sorry,” he says at last, “I don’t want to abandon you. I want you by my side. You are my mate; I love you. But I have to protect the People. I can’t let anyone get hurt because of me.”

“These things we cannot decide. It is up to the will of Eywa who lives and who dies. The Great Mother’s balance is out of our hands. All life must be returned to death sooner or later.” It hurts to say the words and know that your son was among those taken into the Great Mother’s arms. It was far before his time if you could’ve chosen it. He would’ve lived a long life, far beyond your own and died with the legacy of a great warrior. With a mate and children of his own and many beads to sing of his waytelem. But it was not meant to be. Neteyam is gone and you miss him more than anything but he would not want this. He would not want his father, the mighty Toruk Makto, to give up this fight. Jake was like the brightest star in Neteyam’s sky, a place so high he could only ever hope to reach. His greatest wish was to be a warrior resembling his Jake. You will not allow him to abandon his son’s dream even in his absence. 

“Eywa has not abandoned you, ma Jake, so you will not abandon us.” He nods but his eyes are shrouded with a fog of sadness. Grief does not pass easily and you don’t expect this wound to heal within a day, a year, or even a lifetime. You’ve lost people in your life. Great warriors and clan elders. Thinking of them is like pressing against a bruise. It pangs and throbs but soon you will forget until you touch it once more. Neteyam’s parting is still fresh in your mind, weighing heavy on your heart. 

“I miss him so much.” There are no words to placate the pain in his voice. “I just want to see him again. Just once.” 

The desperate wish leads the two of you to the Ranteng Utralti. It will not be a true reunion. Not in the way Jake wants, but it will be something. Neteyam still lives within Eywa. His vitra has not been lost even in death. 

The sun is still high overhead, poking beams of white light through the water as the two of you dive towards the Spirit Tree. The fronds seem to beckon your arrival as they sway in the tide, tossing patches of purple light across your skin. You’re still wearing your mourning garbs, your paint, your veil. It seems fitting as the two of you lock eyes. Jake’s hand reaches for yours, squeezing tight as you both make tsaheylu with the Spirit Tree. One moment you feel yourself floating, water all around you, but it fades in an instant, swallowed by a swirl of flashing light that fades first to green and then to more defined shapes. Leaves, a forest. It’s only vaguely recognizable, just different enough from the forest of your home to know you’re far from Awa’atlu, returned to the Pandora jungle once more. 

There are voices among the sounds of rustling leaves and chittering animals. The sun is warm against your skin as you trail towards the sound, wide tail brushing against the plants around you. A warmth unfolds in your heart as you peek around a tree and find Jake kneeling next to a stream, a young boy at his side. At once you know it’s your son. His smile is just the same as it was as he offers his little bow to Jake. It’s beautiful in a way only Eywa can provide. A peaceful piece of perfection, a sweet dream to tide over an ailing heart. You’re content to watch them but a sound draws your attention, an ear flicking towards the noise. It doesn’t seem to disturb Neteyam or Jake and you wonder if they even know you’re here just beyond sight. Perhaps you’re at the very fringe of Jake’s vision, peering in from the outside. You leave him to it, attention drawn towards the sound of a woman singing. The forest changes around you, wavering like air above a fire as you walk a seemingly long distance in only a few strides and stumble upon a marui. It’s large, much too big for its single occupant, and woven with the intricacy expected of an Omatikaya dwelling. 

“If you have time to stand and watch you should come help.” She interrupts her singing to finally look up at you and her face is striking. Round eyes, full lips, and her pil slant upward in a way that makes her features seem sharper. And there’s a sense of familiarity within her features, as if you’ve seen her somewhere before, like a memory faded with time. You stare at her even as she hands you a stone bowl, expecting that you’ll begin to grind cycad seeds. It usually isn’t your place to make such preparations but you are a guest in this woman’s home and she wouldn’t know if you are better suited preparing meat rather than flour. Still it is the same as preparing plants for medicines, an easy enough task, though you nearly drop the bowl when she asks who you are. But it’s hardly a question as your name rolls off her tongue. 

“That is your name, yes? Neteyam has spoken highly of you since he arrived.” There’s a bitter tinge to her tone. For a moment you think it’s directed at you as you finally recognize her face. It’s Neteyam’s face if only older, more feminine. This is his mother. Jake’s first mate. Your chin tucks towards your chest as you try to hide within the dark cloud of your curls, shrinking behind the curtain of your hair. Perhaps you had wrongly interpreted Eywa’s will. Perhaps you were not meant to mate with Jake. It had been a selfish thought just as you’d worried, inconsiderate to the woman waiting for him here. She curses under her breath and your fangs bite into your lip to keep from apologizing before she’s said her piece. 

“I give my life to protect my children and still it is not enough. Faysawtute.” Her chopping begins to gain vigor, scoring the wooden slab as she goes. “I kill him and he lives even still. When will it end?” Finally she looks up at you. 

“Are the children safe? Kiri, Tuk, Lo’ak? I have not seen them here. They have to be safe.” She is trying to hide her desperation, you can tell by the pinched doing of her voice, but her eyes cannot hide from you. She is terrified that more of her children will be delivered to her soon. 

“They are safe. They’re all safe.” The tension leaves her shoulders. 

“That is good. And Jake?”

“He is with Neteyam now. He might come to see you soon…” your voice trails off as you realize he never told you her name. In his quest to keep you from questioning his devotion he has hidden a piece of himself. She will always be a part of him and it is not your place to begrudge him that. It is because of her that you have the family he’s given you. She deserves your unyielding respect as the mother that came before you. 

“Neytiri,” she sounds almost amused by your ignorance. “Neytiri te Tskaha Mo'at'ite.” She sets aside her cooking and reaches for you, her hands finding yours once you set aside the bow of ground seeds. “I’ve heard of you and your sister Ronal. A skilled tsahìk and her tsahìknay.” 

Tsahìknay. No one had ever called you such a thing. It was always tsakarem; a tsahìk that never finished her training and earned the honored title of clan leader. That was your sister, that was Ronal. She was tsahìk and yet you’re still treated with such respect within the clan. Even Ronal defers to your guidance at times. Was it not you that told her to allow the Sullys to stay? Before the clan she reminded you of her authority, but she is your elder sister. It has always been her guiding you and giving orders. Of course she would bristle at her word being questioned before the clan, before outsiders. And yet she allowed it. Even Jake had acknowledged your place upon first meeting. He called you tsakarem just as the rest of the clan did. It’s a title for a child not yet completing their rites to become one with the People, but what else were they meant to call you. Rarely does a clan have more than one tsahìk. But just as Eywa has blessed Jake it seems she has chosen you for something as well. Why else would you be blessed to See things as you do? 

You See and yet you are blind. Ronal has told you this more than once in your life. It was meant as a reminder. To look clearly at things as they truly are. The shadows retreat and you see at last. You were never lacking, never less than. You are equal. Second to none. 

Neytiri smiles, “A clan with two tsahìks must be blessed. I am glad it is you that he has chosen. My children will grow up well.” Her hand presses to your chest, palm against the tattoo inked over your heart. It means loving, protective. These are words you live by. 

“Oel ngati kameie,” she says with gentle reverence. Your name sounds like a prayer on her tongue. “You have a strong heart. I trust it to take care of everyone that we love.” Even when you’ve failed to protect Neteyam she has given her blessing to look after her mate, her children. Your mate, your children. You move to bow but she meets you halfway, pressing her forehead against yours just as Jake would. You aren’t taking her place. Tsaheylu bonds your body and soul. She is a part of Jake just as much as you are, so she is now a part of you. 

When your eyes open the marui is suddenly full of white light. And though you’ve never seen a forest atokirina’ you recognize the delicate creatures at once. There’s something calming about the presence of the pure spirits. Their syuratan is different from the yellow glow of the tree spirits of your home but they still feel gentle as a kiss when they caress your skin. One lands and then another. Neytiri reaches out her hand as one dances over her palm. She holds the bouncing sprite in her hands, white light dancing in her eyes as they fill with a rueful sadness.  

“When I died, I was afraid. I knew I was dead the moment my eyes opened. My sister, my father, Tsu’tey. Everyone I had lost was here to greet me within Eywa. But I was afraid for my family.” She lifts her hands and gently blows on the atokirina’. It swirls through the air, threadlike tendrils swirling about before it finds the breeze and floats away with the others. They leave in a shimmering cloud just as quickly as they came. When you turn back to Neytiri she’s smiling. “I’m not afraid anymore.” 

For a moment you think you’re crying as her face begins to swirl into a wash of color like spilled paint, but when you blink it away the vision is gone and you’re staring at the Ranteng Utralti once more. Jake’s hand is still tight in yours as his eyes open as well. When you surface you find that you were crying, tears streaming down your cheeks along with the seawater as you mount your ilu. 

“What’s wrong, yuey?” 

“I saw her, Jake.” A smile finds its way to your face despite the tears. Your heart flutters in your chest, beating heavily where her hand had been. Your skin seems to sing as you touch your tattoo as if her hand would still be there. 

“Saw who?” 

“Neytiri.” His eyes go wide, ears standing on end. Behind him his tail perks up, curling anxiously as he sits on his own ilu. It has always been his greatest fear that you would seek out knowledge about his mate. He knows you, knows your heart. You would have compared yourself to her, belittle and bemoaned your every flaw until you felt like nothing by comparison. But that isn’t the truth of it. There is no comparison. He chose her. He chose you. Jake values both of you just the same in his heart. There is no superior. You see that now. See it more clearly than you ever have. 

“Why are you crying? What happened?” Sharing what you’ve seen while connected to the Spirit Tree is always an intimate experience. Tsaheylu is sacred, and what’s seen while communing with Eywa is always a look into someone’s soul. But you do it every time you meet someone’s eye. Jake’s vitra is plainly clear in his eyes. The bittersweet feeling of being able to catch even a glimpse of his son, to relive the memories that he cherishes and know that’s all that will be now. Just memories. 

“She called me tsahìknay, said I was blessed. We were touched by atokirina’.” The Great Mother’s has not been subtle with her intentions on this day. You are meant to be by Jake’s side, just as Neytiri was before you. And Jake is meant to be by your side. To part would be to spite the blessings Eywa has given you. There was a reason you were not mated before. He is the reason. This is the reason. You were not meant for Tonowari, not meant for any man in Awa’atlu. This is the path Eywa has drawn for your life. It has not been without its hardships and there will surely be more to come–more death, more destruction–but the only way is forward. The storm will come and you will weather it. One step at a time. For now, though, you return home, listening to Jake recount his time with Neteyam. Their fishing and climbing trees. He sounds younger, a quiet smile in his voice. His spirit is lifted if only for the moment. 

“She would’ve loved you.” He says at last. “I wish I’d told you that sooner.” There’s so much he hasn’t told you, so much you’ve yet to learn. A sharp pain pinches in your chest as you think of Neteyam and all the things that died with him, all the things you’ll never know about your son. Part of you wishes you had seen him with Eywa, had a chance to speak with him, but the Great Mother doesn’t always show you what you want to see but what needs to be seen. 

“She said she trusts me to take care of our family.” Jake smiles and for a moment he looks like himself again. His face isn’t drawn with sadness but bright with a satisfied grin. 

“I know she does, because I do. This family is our fortress and I trust you to protect it. No matter what happens.”

ɴᴀ’ᴠɪ ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs

Tawtute, Sawtute – sky person, sky people

Sa’tsmuke – aunt, mother’s sister (speculative)

Tsmuke’ite – niece (speculative)

Hì’ikran – dorado verde, small ikran (speculative)

Sämunge – transportation device

Eyktanay – a step below clan leader

Waytelem – songcord

Ranteng Utralti – Spirit Tree

Vitra, Tirea – soul, spirit

Vrrtep – demon

Tswin – neural braid

Muntxate – wife, female mate

Maitan – (my) son

Naranawm – Polyphemus, the planet Pandora orbits

Syuratan – bioluminescence

Uniltìrantokx – dreamwalker, avatar

Pil – facial stripes, skin stripes

Tsakarem – tsahìk-in-training

Tsahìknay – a step below tsahìk (speculative)

Yuey – beautiful (inner beauty)

#jake sully x reader #sully family x reader #avatar x reader #avatar #atwow

[lykaonimagines]

Inked Hearts- Stephen Strange x Reader

Paring: Stephen Strange x Sorcerer F!Reader

Word Count: 3,282

Description: After five years apart, Stephen and Y/N are finally reunited and realize how deep their love for one another runs. 

“I’m always coming back, you can bet on that. You’re the only place I call home.” - Only Place I Call Home by Every Avenue.

“These words you should always remember, to you, my heart I surrender.” - My Heart I Surrender by I Prevail.

Other Things: Established relationship. Post-End Game (Like immediately after). Slightly angsty but mostly loving and fluff.

Warnings: Some swearing. Suggestive in parts, but not smut. Tattoos? (Not sure if that needs to be a warning haha)

Masterlist

Stumbling from the battlefield wreckage of the Avenger compound through a portal into their bedroom, the two sorcerers stare at one another silently, the weight of the last five years finally crashing down on them.

His lover’s eyes look exhausted and dull, lacking the usual brightness in them from before The Snap. Her face littered with scars, new and old. Many he had never seen. The stress of his time gone more than evident on her features. Worn, tired, and broken she manages to smile at him as his chest aches. He caused this. His absence. His plan.

“I can’t really believe this is real,” she comments, shifting in her stance to lift a leg up and tug off her boot, swapping to the other to do the same. “It feels like you’re a dream, or figment of my mind that will disappear when I turn around. Five fucking years Stephen…”

Sending his cloak away from him, Stephen tentatively takes a step forward while offering his arms to her, “Well, I’m home now.”

Y/N rushes into his arms immediately, face buried against his neck as she lets out a choked sob. Holding her tightly to his body, he presses kisses to her hair and whispers soft assurances.

“I thought you were really gone,” she whispers a few minutes after her sobs subside, still snuggling into his embrace. “I felt like I lost part of myself.”

Stephen’s heart breaks at her words, his hand gently rubbing her back, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what exactly?”

“Not being able to tell you. Being selfish and allowing myself those last minutes in your arms. Being gone for five years. Not being here for you. You having to step up and take my place. Everything.”

“I can’t be angry with you,” she replies softly. “How can I? You did what you had to do to save the universe. My own issues kind of pale in comparison to half the population of the universe disappearing.”

“What you suffered is important to me. It was the only way we could be like this again… but I still caused you pain.”

“As I said, I knew the risks of being with you. Sacrifice for the greater good in the grand scheme of things and all that.”

“I’m going to spend every day making it up to you,” he mumbles into her hair.

“Don’t make promises we both know you can’t keep.”

Pulling back, he looks down at her tear-stained face, words caught in his throat.

“Stephen I don’t love you despite you being the one trying to keep everyone safe and making sacrifices to do that. I love you because that’s part of you. You could have stood by if you wanted, but you didn’t. You did everything you could to save as many people as you could, even if it meant losing years of your own life. I said I’d be your partner, knowing exactly who you are and what you do. And I continued being your partner, watching the Sanctum and handling threats. Because that’s who we are.”

He looks down at her mystified, her words seemingly tumbling around in his head. She had all right to be angry. To hate him. To hate their life together. Yet there she stood, holding every piece together when he couldn’t. Staring back at him with that still loving gaze.

“Close your eyes,” he whispers, leaning forward to press feather-light kisses to each of her eyelids after they flutter shut. His lips kiss a path down her nose and across her cheek. Then the lightest of brushes on the edge of her mouth as her breathing gets heavier.

“I love you, every part, every minute, every day, and every year,” he continues as he backs them toward the bed. Her legs hit the edge and he carefully hoists her up on to the mattress. “My heart belongs to you, and only you for eternity.”

Groaning at his words and touches, she squirms under him, “This sounds like a spell Stephen.”

He chuckles and his fingertips brush against her jaw, “More like a promise.”  

He proceeds to trail his kisses sloppily down her neck and collarbone, just slow enough to pull his favorite sounds from her lips. His hands reaching for the hem of her shirt, his lips leaving her skin just long enough for it to pass between them.

It had been too long.

Continuing his progress down, he pauses as he notices unfamiliar ink under his nose. Leaning back to take a better look, his heart clenches.

SVS. His initials in a simple heart frame. Inked permanently in her skin, right above her own heart. Another line of text sits above it stating simply, “You’re the only place I call home.”

Reaching out, he runs his fingertips across the letters slowly before his gaze flickers to her eyes that had opened and were now studying him. “When did you get this?” he asks, coughing abruptly to hide the way his voice nearly cracked on the words.

“Three years ago,” she admits, watching his fingertips trace the ink. “After two years… I realized I needed to accept that you might not come back. There was still a part of me that wanted to believe you had some kind of plan, that you didn’t think losing half the population was a win. But I also knew it meant other things had to happen. I don’t know. It hit me on the two year anniversary of The Snap that you really weren’t going to just walk in the door suddenly. I wanted you with me somehow.”

Stephen nods slowly, still not quite believing the letters in front of him.

“When I got back from Titan, I had your… ashes on me,” she says looking past him at the wall. “Since well, you know. I couldn’t just wash them down the drain. Sort of shook them all off into a container until I got you an urn. When I decided to get the tattoo, commemorative tattoos were really big as you’d imagine. So I took some of the ashes to go in the ink.”

His fingers freeze on her skin, and his eyes drift up to meet hers, “Wait… this ink… has my ashes in it?”

Y/N nods sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck in embarrassment, “I mean… it was a big thing and I wanted you with me and it seemed like a positive way to think about it instead of returning here covered in them and-”

His lips suddenly press to hers, cutting off the stream of words. His eyes drifting shut as he desperately moves them in rhythm with hers.

Swiping his tongue over her lip and sliding his hands down to grab her hips, he smiles into the kiss as a breathy sound leaves her body.

“Stephen…” her glossy eyes stare back up at him with want as he leans back.

“We should shower first darling,” he mumbles before pressing a kiss to the center of her throat, pulling a sharp hiss from her.

“You couldn’t have started with that,” she groans and reaches up to card her fingers through his hair. “You had to wait until I’m worked up Stephen?”

“It just occurred to me I’ve spent the last five years as ash, and we both just came off a bloody dirty battlefield,” he answers, pulling her hands from his hair and pulling her up with him as he slides off the bed.

“I suppose I can agree… but Strange,” she grips his arm to pull him closer and growl in his ear. “I’ve waited years, we’re making use of that big shower.”

Turning his head to nip at her earlobe, he sends a shiver down her spine, “I was expecting nothing less.”

-

In the weeks following his return, Strange spent most of his time around the sanctum. Most of that time he spent attached to Y/N in some form, the two of them hating to be separated for long. But the world continued on, and they had tasks to take care of.

The most recent being a request, or maybe order, from Wong to clean the sanctum that had been partially neglected in his absence and her grief. And that’s how Stephen found himself in his office sorting through five years of un-filed paperwork.

Even with half the universe gone, Y/N had seemed to have her work cut out for her. Flicking papers this way and that toward their correct filing cabinets, Stephen pauses as he uncovers an envelope with his name on the front. Just ‘Stephen’, no postage or address of any kind.

Opening the envelope he pulls out folded paper and flips it open, stopping for a moment when he recognizes the handwriting and the date at the top of the page. A letter to him from Y/N seemingly just months before he returned. Smoothing out the folds in the paper, he starts to read.

“Stephen,

I know this is dumb. Writing you a letter again. Knowing you’ll never read it. But it’s been five years today since that bastard tore you away from me. I still spend hours thinking about what I could have done different, how it could have been different. But I know you wouldn’t have allowed it.

I dream of you every night. And for a moment it’s pure bliss. Wrapped in your arms, drunk on your lips. Your brilliant blue-green eyes full of life and love staring back into my own. And for that moment I’m lost in the ecstasy of you. Then as quickly as it came, you fade into dust in my arms and I scream for you. Chanting your name like a damn incantation until I wake up alone in our bed, heart racing, desperately searching the sheets for you. All to be smacked with reality once again. That you’re gone.

They say year after year the hurt will lessen, that the memories will fade. Then tell me why I still hear your voice as I walk the halls. Still feel your grip on my hips like your hands never left. And see your face in every crowd I pass on these busy streets. Then I look for you, and you’re not there.

I don’t think I can ever truly let go of you Stephen. I don’t want the memories to fade. Most nights I want to lose myself in my dreams, delaying the inevitable end and waking to a reality without you.

Wong says the spirit can prevail after death sometimes. At times even appearing to you when in astral form. I search for you each day and find nothing, but it gives me comfort that maybe you’re there. He says he thinks you would hang around to protect me, that it’s just your nature. And maybe you have. Maybe you can see me sitting at your desk, in your big important sorcerer chair of the ancients as I write this to you.

If you do see me, I hope I make you proud. One of the only things that keeps me going is knowing I can’t disappoint you. I can’t let you down. And that maybe one day, somehow I’ll stumble onto an answer. There’s been whispers of ideas from the Avengers. Though they all scattered to the wind after the death of Thanos. Maybe they’ll finally have found the answer. And if they have, I’ll throw my all into it. This is where I’m supposed to say it’s for the greater good, that I’ll try my hardest to save half the universe, because it’s the noble and right thing to do.

But fuck that. I do it for you. I’d scour this universe and face any danger just to hold you one more time. Maybe that makes me a bad sorcerer, maybe it makes me a bad super hero. Maybe it makes me a terrible person. Though I can’t bring myself to care anymore. Though you know me. I say I don’t care, but if there’s a scream from outside in the next five minutes, I’ll be out there in seconds.

Maybe I’ll never see you again, and I’ll grow old here in this sanctum. Until time or enemy catches up to me. Then I can only hope to be reunited with you again. The only one I ever have or ever will love. Because you’re the only place I call home, Stephen Vincent Strange.

Your Love, Y/N.”

Finishing reading the letter, Stephen wipes quickly as the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. Twisting it in between his fingers, he quickly comes up with a plan.

Pulling over a ceramic pot, he drops the letter in and snaps to set it on fire. Within seconds its ash, and he pours it into a small counter before quickly portaling out of the house on a mission.

-

Maybe he hadn’t completely thought this through, he cringes after the second time of Y/N putting her hand on his sore chest. Trying to smile through the pain, he knows he does a poor job.

And an even poorer job of hiding it in general. He never slept with a shirt. He always wanted to shower with her. She was getting suspicious of the number of times he’d magic-ed his clothing change and rushed off to Kamar-Taj the last few days.

“Ok that’s it,” Y/N finally snaps, pulling Stephen closer to her by his shirt. “You’re hurt and hiding it, I know it. Off with the shirt.”

“It’s nothing darling,” he tries to lie, flashing her his most charming smile.

“Charm doesn’t work when I’m worried about your health Strange. Shirt. Off.”

Sighing in defeat, he finally pulls his shirt from his body, smiling at the small gasp from Y/N.

“Is that… a tattoo?” she asks as she leans in for a closer look, her mouth snapping shut as she reads it. “You got this for me?”

“I was hoping to give it a few more days to heal before you saw it,” he admits sheepishly, looking down at the ink.

A matching heart to her own ink, but with her own initials in it. And a line of text above it proclaiming, “To you, my heart I surrender.”

“I-I don’t know what to say,” Y/N mumbles in awe, fighting back the tears that start to drip down her cheeks.

“Hey, hey, it’s meant to be a happy thing, not sad,” he coos, pulling her into his embrace. “My love for you.”

“I love it,” she says with a sniffle, fingers running along the open skin near the tattoo. “What prompted this surprise?”

“I found your letter.”

“Letter?”

“The one you wrote to me a few months ago.”

“Oh… that was probably a depressing read.”

“Hard to read yes, but also the single most heartfelt and lovely thing I’ve ever read as well. And that’s why I burned it and put it in the ink.”

“You put ashes from that letter in your tattoo ink?”

“If yours has some of me in it, mine needed something of you. Besides, it sounds more mystic and magical when you say it that way.”

“I’d commend your flair for the dramatics, but I’m the one that started this trend so I can’t,” she smiles, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips.

“Oh wait, there is more. Something I found in a tome at Kamar-Taj,” he says motioning for her to remove her shirt as well.

“You learned something at Kamar-Taj that involves me removing my shirt? Should I be jealous?” she teases as she removes the fabric.

“Previously I would have said a little jealousy is good,” he mutters as he steps in closer to her, running his hand down her bare arm. “But I don’t think devotion is something we’re struggling with, darling. So it’s just wasted time. I’ve also just branded myself with the initials of a Master of the Mystic Arts, I don’t think my charm or wit is enough for someone to risk your wrath.”

“Fair point Strange. Besides, I trust you, I’m just teasing,” she smiles up at him. “Now show me this trick of yours.”

“It’s simple really,” he comments as he quickly moves his hands and she feels a warmth on her chest. As he lowers his hands, he looks at her with a satisfied smirk. “Perfect.”

“I spoke too soon,” she laughs as she looks down at the orange glow coming from her tattoo. “You’ve brought the dramatics afterall.”

“Well if you don’t like it…” he begins as he raises his hands.

Quickly grabbing his hands in her own, she pulls him closer instead, “I never said that. Though I think yours should match.”

“It will,” he nods, rubbing his thumb along her knuckles. “Once it’s healed and not aching every time it’s touched.”

“Have you been keeping it clean Doctor?” she asks leaning in to take a better look. “Because it looks like you aren’t doing the proper after care there.”

Stephen blinks at her slowly, mouth agape, “I can keep a tattoo clean, I have a Ph.D in medicine Y/N.”

“Has it started peeling at all yet?”

“Yes.”

“Are you still using the ointment, just washing, or what?”

“Just washing it.”

“When it peels you switch to a gentle lotion, I’ll let you borrow some, it’ll help,” she nods as she pats the center of his chest.

“Since when did you become an expert on tattoos hm?” he asks with a raised brow.

“Since I didn’t want to have to tell anyone you gave me an infection. Being it’s your ashes and all,” she grins, taking a step back and toward their bathroom.

“You would,” he mutters, sliding up behind her to wrap his arms around her waist.

“How about you go get comfy and I’ll come back with the lotion… and maybe I’ll even rub it in for you,” she says, chuckling as he shudders at her hips pressing back into him.

“Just on the tattoo?” he whispers in her ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down her spine.

“I could be persuaded to do a bit more,” she remarks, bringing her hand up grip the back of his hair as he lets out a hiss. “That is, if you’re a good boy and go wait on the bed for me.”

“Consider me an excellent boy then,” he says as he detangles himself from her and crosses the room to throw himself onto the large bed. “But you’ve got two minutes to grab that and get your ass back in here, or I’m coming in for you.”

Crossing over into their bathroom, Y/N digs out the bottle she was looking for and briefly looks up in the mirror. A smile plastered across her face and her hair a mess, it’s the first time she’s seen herself actually look happy in… who even knows.

Clutching the bottle to her chest, she slips back into their bedroom and leans against the doorframe as she observes her sorcerer.

His frame draped casually across the bed, his hands moving quickly as he forms various shapes with his magic in the air above him. The soft glow of the magic lighting up his handsome features as he goes. After a few moments his head turns toward her, his loving gaze holding her still in the moment as a lazy smile spreads across his face and the magic dissipates, his hand reaching out inviting her onto the bed.

Five years was a long time. But it was worth every second.

-

Stephen Taglist: @gaitwae​ @geeky-politics-46​ @elicheel​

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#doctor stephen strange #doctor strange #doctor strange x reader #doctor strange imagine #doctor strange x you #stephen strange #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange imagine #stephen strange x you #marvel

[draguta]

.a court of ash and smoke | eight.

pairing: lucien vanserra x reader

summary: five years before feyre archeron ever stepped foot in prythian, another human girl found herself in the spring court. but the trials and tribulations of her time under the mountain left her with nothing but a certain red-headed high fae emissary, who had once resented her entire presence, to help and guide her.

chapter warnings: mentions of non-con/dub-con

chapter word count: 2227

🩸 series masterlist 🩸

please remember to reblog, like, and share a comment if you enjoy this series - it is always appreciated by writers to see their hard work valued.

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Outside

You reached the bottom step of the staircase that led up to the second arena just as Lucien was thrown out of a door on your right. He crumpled to the ground, loosing deep breaths of relief as he rose on shaking feet. You didn’t give yourself a moment to think, or to consider, before you were rushing down the hall, skirts hiked up around your ankles, and leaping into his arms.

You sobbed as you held him for the first time in so long, and his shoulders shook as he too wept. You stayed like that for a moment longer than you should have, before finally pulling away. Your hands cupped his face, grazing along the metal of his mask, and he gripped you tightly against him.

“Are those tears I can see?” He smirked. Even through tears, and even after dying, he was still a cocky, arrogant bastard. “I’m honoured that you thought I was worth shedding tears over.”

“Will you stop?” You snapped, but you couldn’t stop the light chuckle that fell between sobs. You looked up at him and something in the air around you changed. He reached up and wiped a tear from your cheek, and you in return did the same, the pad of your thumb passing over the bumps of his scars. “You’re ok.”

It was more a reassurance for you than anything else, less of a question and more of a statement. Because he was ok, you could see that now. See that no matter what Amarantha did, she would leave behind no lasting scars on the hearts of you or him, because you had each other, and that’s all you needed. “I’m ok,” he whispered in reply. He pulled you close, and held you against his chest, held you so tight that you wondered for a moment if you were as much an anchor for him as he was for you.

You were your own hope, but Lucien was the one that made that hope shine, that made it prevail in the face of everything you had encountered.

Just a small part of you wished, quite selfishly, that you were that for him.

Only when chatter was heard from the stairs behind you did you both finally move. Lucien grabbed your hand, and on rather unsteady legs, he led you through the mountain, around corners and along winding halls, down stairs and then up them again. You passed by old oil paintings that depicted a war waged long before you had stepped foot on these lands or any lands, and past small windows in the mountain’s shell that allowed even just a crack of view to the outside world, a world that you hadn’t seen in so long. You didn’t stop long enough for you to look.

It wasn’t until you were standing outside that familiar wooden door, the same one that you had stood outside for days, that you realised where you were. “These are your chambers,” you said slowly, and he looked down at you with a short nod.

“I thought we would have more privacy here than in yours,” he explained, and he was right. For you knew the hall to your chambers would be crawling already with sleezy court men wanting to get a piece of you for the night.

Your eyes adjusted slightly as you entered the room. It hadn’t been what you were expecting at all, but then you supposed that it wasn’t really his room, but rather the room that he was occupying. It was larger than your own by at least double, a similar four-poster bed sat in the centre, with crimson red silk sheets, rather than the emerald green that you had become accustomed to. There was a wardrobe that held various tunics, some that looked as if they had come from the Spring Court, although how they had gotten here you had no idea, and some that looked as if they had been provided Under the Mountain, perhaps by Rhysand, or even Amarantha herself. A desk was pushed against the far wall, papers and letters and ink pots and quills blanketing the surface, and even a globe sat in the far corner, a fireplace, already lit, by the bedside. These were the quarters of a High Fae, of the seventh son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court.

And there, covered only slightly by wavering velvet curtains of wine-red, was a window. It was only small, like the ones that you had passed in the hallways, but this was lower. Lucien had clearly dragged the small bench from the end of his bed to sit before the window, if the scrapes on the floor were any indication.

You couldn’t stop your bare feet from padding across the wood, your eyes trained on that window, on what lay beyond it. The world - the outside. It looked South, you would have guessed from the view, and past the wasteland that surrounded that solitary mountain, in the distance, lay the bright, vivid colours of the courts beyond, the Winter Court, with its rolling icy planes, and a glimpse of what lay past that, the Summer Court of golden haze, and the Autumn Court, the homeland of the High Fae stood behind you. Beyond that, the Spring Court, your home.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Lucien whispered from behind you. He was close, enough that you could feel the heat from his chest radiating off him as he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder and squeezed tight. “We’ll go home, one day. I promise that.”

You stayed like that for hours, sitting on that little bench in silence, staring out at the world beyond, one that was so close yet so far out of reach. A bird fluttered past the window, and you almost cried, until Lucien took your hand in his, enveloping it in his warmth, and you remembered what he had just been through, what he had survived on the whim of a Night Court High Lord.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered under your breath, turning to look at him, curling your leg up under you on the bench, not caring if your dirty feet marred the crisp material. Lucien frowned as he looked back at you, his head cocking to the side slightly.

“For what?” He asked, and when you didn’t immediately answer, he raised an eyebrow, and mewled, “Human, whatever it is, just tell me already.”

“You know you can’t call me that anymore,” you smirked. “I’m not human anymore, and I haven’t been for quite a while.”

“I know that, and yet I still feel like the nickname fits so terribly well,” he chuckled. “Now, will you tell me what it is?”

The small smile that had been playing at your lips as you joked now fell, and you glanced down at his hand wrapped over yours as if for reassurance. “It was my fault that you were down there today. Amarantha only put you in that trial to torment me,” you explained. “Rhysand-”

“Now, what have I told you about listening to Rhysand?” Lucien said, leaning forward in his chair.

“But it’s true though,” you whined. “She only put you there because she knew how much you meant to me, and she knew that putting you in harms way again would hurt Feyre, Tamlin, and me.”

“How much do I mean to you?” He quipped, quirking an eyebrow and shooting you a sideways smirk.

You blinked up at him. “So much, Lucien,” you whispered. “Too much.”

The smirk fell, only to be replaced by a winning, shining beam. But you continued, “If I hadn’t made that so obvious, you never would have been sent into that trial.”

He leaned ever-closer to you still, and your eyes lingered on his. “She would have put me in that trial regardless,” he said softly. “Because she knows that I’m close to Tamlin and Feyre. Whether you were thrown into the mix or not, I still would have wound up in the same place.”

You pulled in a jagged inhale as he continued, reaching up to pull a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I’ll be honest with you, I have never been more terrified than I was in that moment,” he said, voice a little shaky as he thought back to only hours ago. “But then I saw you there, and I knew that I had the strength to face whatever was coming my way, even if that was death. You’re my hope.”

Rhysand’s words echoed in your ears. ‘You are our hope.’ It would seem that he had been right about that. Know-it-all prick.

“Now come,” Lucien murmured. He glanced out of the window, noting the moon beginning to rise in place of the orange glow from the sun. “It’s getting late, and I’m tired. Let us rest now.”

You let him tug on your hand, rising to your feet as he guided you toward his bed. And there you lay down, slipping under the covers as he removed his tunic, but remained in his shirt and trousers, and crawled in beside you. He pulled you closer, your head resting in the crook between his neck and shoulder. Just as sleep began to take over, you were sure you heard him mutter something against your hair. 

“You mean too much to me too.”

Although you didn’t know it, too lost in sleep to realise at the time, Lucien woke more than once that night, panting and covered in a cold sheen of sweat. He had been there, under that grate, so close to death, each time he closed his eyes. And yet, when he saw you sleeping peacefully beside him, he allowed himself a smile, and curled back under the covers, you resting on his chest, and willed the nightmares to leave.

A month past that dreadful day with Lucien trapped under those spikes, and Feyre’s third and final trial loomed. Tensions were high throughout the court, and everyone seemed more on edge than usual, even Amarantha herself. But none of them dared show it, even if it could be sensed a mile away.

It was the night before the trial, and the final party before Feyre ultimately saved you or doomed you all. You chose to hang close to the wall, snarling at any male that got too close. Tonight was not for pleasing them. No, tonight was for you, for Feyre, for Lucien. For those who had been ripped from their homes, who’d had so much taken from them that only the fear remained.

To your surprise, Tamlin was on his feet tonight, and you trailed his movements as he made his way through the crowd to Feyre on the far side of the room. You tapped your fingers agitatedly against the wall behind you as you saw him crane his head for her to follow, and then he slipped back through the crowds, right toward you. He paused when he saw you, and you cocked your head - a silent warning to be careful - but he didn’t pay any heed, and slipped through the door to your left, Feyre hot on his heels a moment later.

You didn’t stop them. They deserved any moment of intimacy that they could get, even if it was a risk, even if it was hidden away in the shadows.

“And what are you doing over here all by yourself,” a smooth voice asked from beside you as Rhysand leaned against the wall on your right, the green-skinned faerie that he had been fawning over moments before now nowhere in sight. “No red-headed emissaries to keep you entertained? Or have you grown bored of him already? I wouldn’t blame you.”

You hissed through gritted teeth at him, and he chuckled lightly. “Ah, now I see. You’re scaring everyone away.”

You only turned back to the crowd and didn’t even glance back at him. He sighed, pushing himself from the wall and moving into your eyeline. “What would you say if I told you I had a little present for you?” He asked with a wry smile.

“I would say I have no need of gifts,” you snapped, but then sighed and shook your head. “I’m sorry.”

Rhysand shrugged. “You’re on edge, I get it. We all are,” he said. “But I have something that might take that edge off a little.”

He glanced over his shoulder for just a second, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulling something out. He took your hand, palm upward, into his own, and slipped the object, heavy and with a leathery texture, in your awaiting hand. You frowned, pulling your eyes away from him and down to the object in your hand. The gasp barely escaped your lips before Rhysand, “Hide it, and don’t tell anyone that I gave it to you, for both our sakes.”

And so, you slipped it into the waistband of your dress, hidden behind the various sheer layers of materials that covered your breasts. Amarantha’s spell-book.

“Why would you give me this?” You whispered, looking back up at him.

“Because, I think you might be the one that, in the end, needs to use it,” he explained. Cryptic in itself, just as he was. But he offered you no further explanation, disappearing back into the crowd.

#ACOTAR #ACOTAR fanfiction #ACOTAR fanfic #Lucien Vanserra #Lucien #Lucien ACOTAR #Lucien Vanserra fanfiction #Lucien Vanserra fanfic #Lucien fanfiction #Lucien fanfic #Lucien x reader #Lucien Vanserra x reader #Lucien x you #Lucien Vanserra x you #Lucien x y/n #lucien vanserra x y/n #rhysand #feyre #tamlin #elain #nesta #cassian #mor #azriel #amren #amarantha #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight

[the-mandalorian-historian]

Solace in the Silence: an Obitine oneshot fic

Satine had cried a lot today. A lot. And it was happening again. But not an ugly, pathetic, sobbing cry, like many Obi-Wan had witnessed in his few years as a Jedi Padawan. Satine’s cry was of someone who suffered silently. The meek, self-conscious aura that wrapped around the space she existed in during these moments of sadness made those around her solemn as well. The tiniest of whimpers and squeaks escaped her thin lips every few minutes, much to her embarrassment. Obi-Wan wasn’t always the brightest, most observant being in the galaxy, but he did, for once, notice her nurtured conscientiousness and inherent grace even in the midst of her crying sessions. So, as Obi-Wan Kenobi, Satine Kryze, and Qui-Gon Jinn sat atop a hillside, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but wonder what was the source of her sudden sorrows. “I’m turning in for the night,” Qui-Gon whispered to Obi-Wan, gesturing with his head towards their camp at the bottom of the hill. “In the meantime…why don’t you—sensitively—console the duchess? You may both find some solace in each other’s company.” “Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan spoke quietly, face emotionless, a slight nod to his head.

“Goodnight, my Padawan. I’ll see you two at dawn,” Qui-Gon concluded as his large frame began to trudge down the hillside. Obi-Wan sighed his signature gloomy sigh once his Master was out of earshot. Console the duchess? He’d give it a try at least.

Obi-Wan rolled his body over and got to his feet. He looked over at Satine, who was a couple yards away, and cautiously walked over to her. She had her legs pulled in close, her arms gripping tightly around them, her face buried in herself. When Satine heard Obi-Wan bed down in the grass beside her she looked up at him, sniffing. “Not now, Obi-Wan,” she said, not unkindly. Obi-Wan wasn’t deterred by this, however. He wanted to say something, but the young blonde duchess in front of him was quite distracting at the moment. By the Force, how is she even more beautiful when she’s crying? So instead of using words, he put his arm around Satine’s shoulders. She shivered and let out another rush of tears, releasing everything she had been holding in prior. Obi-Wan squeezed a little harder, and Satine leaned in up against him.

“Obi,” she shakily breathed.

“Hey, hey, talk to me; you know I’m here for you.”

“I’m just—” Satine started, but was cut off by her own sobbing. Obi-Wan gently ran his fingers up and down her arm. “I got you, you’re okay,” Obi-Wan whispered in Satine’s ear. “If it helps, take a deep breath. It always calms me down.” Satine took the Jedi’s advice, allowing the serenity of this shared moment to quiet her bustling mind. “I’m just so sick of being out here, unaware of how my planet and people are faring. But I’m sad because I will never see my family again. My mother passed when I was only a child, my father was martyred for his ideals, and my sister is lost, possibly dead. Obi-Wan, what shall be left for me when this atrocious war is finally finished?” Even in the dark, Obi-Wan could see the hopelessness and despair in the duchess’s eyes. Oh, how his heart broke for this young woman.

“Satine,” he managed, bringing his other arm up to embrace her even more. “Your people are strong—you are strong. I’m confident that those who truly follow you and believe in your ideals will prevail, and at the end of this conflict both you and your people will arise stronger than before.” “It amazes me how sanguine you can be in the midst of everything we’ve been through up to this point,” Satine said, her voice beginning to level out now as her glistening turquoise irises looked up at Obi-Wan. “It’s truly admirable.”

“Uh, th-thank you,” Kenobi stammered. “It makes a difference to stay positive. And encouraging others is always best for all parties involved.”

“Merely your presence encourages me, Obi-Wan,” Satine said, and—wait, was she smiling? Obi-Wan grinned, too. Satine sniffed. “Obi, I had no idea that moonlight makes you look so handsome,” Satine remarked roguishly. Obi-Wan blushed, and it was so visibly bright red that he wished the moon would come crashing down on the planet, and that the chasm it made in the ground would swallow him whole so that no one could even recover his corpse.

💖THANKS FOR READING AHH💖

#obitine #obi wan x satine #obi wan kenobi #satine kryze #fanfic #oneshot #wrote this a while ago #just read it for the first time in forever #was actually impressed with myself that it wasn’t complete trash #Obi-Wan is such a good *not* boyfriend #👀 #yeeeeeah #I hc that satine would be so pretty when she cried #who’s with me #satine week 2024

[magici-if]

🌍 for anyone/everyone?

oh la la . Couldn't find the prompts list so I assumed this was something along the lines of

"Would they choose MC or the world?

Demetra had always loved having the freedom to choose, revelling in the sense of control that came with it. Ever since she was a little girl, she relished doing everything herself; without external help, she'd eat her food, walk without holding her mother's hand, and choose.

When had she become so dependent?

That day, things were different. For probably the first time in her life, she almost didn't want to be the one to choose. She didn't want to be the one whose hands would be drenched red in humanity's blood. Still, deep down, as soon as the demon had spoken, she had known what her answer would be.

That was the harshest choice of her life. Demetra didn't want a stranger to determine the fate of her pretty MC or the entire world. At the same time, she didn't want to be the one causing the demise of her loved ones.

Yet, like always, she would answer, be in control, and choose. She thought of her mum, her brothers, and her best friend, but the thought that prevailed was MC.

Her shoulders trembled, her breath came in choked sobs, and her knees nearly gave away. She wanted to go back, rewind her whole life and dedicate it to researching a solution; so that she'd be ready for this scenario.

Still, she whispered to the demon through tear-streaked cheeks. She chose, for

"What worth is this world without MC in it?"

His hands trembled as he stared intensely at them, waiting to find an answer written on his palms. Evander couldn't even bring himself to hold eye contact with the genie, fearing that those harsh green eyes would scare him into committing atrocities.

The choice before him was already an atrocity by itself. A nervous chuckle threatened to escape his lips, but he suppressed it.

The genie's eyes widened, a chilling smile gracing her face.

I believe I asked you a question.

She didn't say it, she didn't need to; her voice boomed in his mind as if this whole encounter existed only in his thoughts.

Maybe this really was all in his head. He hesitated, even if it wasn't, what if this was a trick question, meant to make him agonise over an answer that would really hold no meaning?

Evander tried to think of what his professors would do, what his father would say, and what MC would think. Would they laugh at his uncertainty, or his foolishness for even listening to this twisted dream?

He clenched his fists. Why would a genie put the world's future on his shoulders, of all people? Why didn't she simply destroy the world if that's what she planned to do?

This had to be a trick question, he was sure.

"Neither. I won't pick one."

Evander prayed they'd understood the situation correctly and made the right choice; but he froze in fear as the genie laughed in his face: a big, villainous laugh.

She spoke out loud, this time.

"Then you shall have neither."

#Evander is so dumb sometimes 🤭 #I don't like this but I spent way too much time writing it lolllll #magici: evander #magici: demetra #interactive fiction #if wip #interactive game

[leohtttbriar]

the people have expressed my own deep desires (and by people i mean @cmayw and @holodax on this post, so thanks y'all) and i felt compelled to at least try to offer something in answer. so. i give you. the final scene of the unwritten kiradax bringing-up-baby au. baby (not present) is a giant tardigrade. bareil (present) is boring.

you drop an olive i sit on my hat. it all fits perfectly.

With their Bajoran space-faring ship finally docked at the station (a certain Starfleet Commander Sisko was thrilled to witness its mooring), the Bajoran and Cardassian law enforcement officials having retreated and released Jadzia and Kira, and Baby the tardigrade long gone into the ether or some other obscurity known only to Starfleet freaks, Kira donned her blue robes and walked along the promenade with Bareil, trying and failing to communicate even a fraction of messiness of the previous three days.

His quiet presence was jarring. And then, worse, he started asking her questions like: “when the wormhole would officially transfer to the authority of Bajor” and “what exactly is a tardigrade” and “why are you talking so much about a worm-person” and “honestly, Nerys, stop talking about this Dax creature” and “Are you paying attention to me?”

If Kira had taken a hammer to her skull she’d have less of headache and, if her luck prevailed, she would also be dead.

“Are you paying attention to me?”

“Yes, love,” she said, patting Bareil’s hand gently.

“Well then,” he grabbed her shoulders and hauled her in front of him. “Mind telling me why you look like someone’s just spit in your tea?”

Kira shrugged. “I don’t look like that,” she said, mildly.

“You definitely don’t look like you’ve just robbed the Cardassians of a chance to stake a claim on a strategic point of travel in our star-system…”

“I’m not the one who did that, Bareil,” grumbled Kira.

“Nerys.”

“What?” she snapped, stepping out of his grasp and turning her gaze back out the observation window. She couldn’t help but think of how ridiculous the wormhole looked, all squiggly lines and heaving waves and so on. She said as much: “It’s a silly thing, isn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t call it silly.”

“It is, though,” she insisted. She twisted the length of her blue sleeve around her wrist anxiously. “It’s the silliest thing I’ve ever encountered.”

Bareil stepped next to her and tried to dislodge her busy fingers from her robe. She stubbornly kept twisting away at the fabric—Don’t tell me what to do, I’ll ruin my clothes if I want, she wanted to snap, as if that would at all indicate an appropriate level of mental stability.

“What’s going on, Nerys?” he whispered to her, in his careful tone. Kira wanted to un-stick his vowels with a pick-axe.

“Nothing is going on,” she said. “We got what we needed—the wormhole is free for exploration and free from the Cardassians—the provisional government has stopped whining at me like children—the tardigrade is back where she—”

She cut herself off with a sob.

Bareil tried to pull her into him but she just shrugged him off again and began vigorously flapping her hands around her face, as if to fan away her own stupid sadness.

“Nerys…” he said, reaching. “Tell me, please? What’s wrong?”

“Just,” she sucked in a breath that sounded more like a honk. “Do you think she’s happy?”

“Do I think who’s happy?”

“Baby.”

“…Baby?”

“The space-bear!” cried Kira. “The tardigrade! That—that—crazy Starfleet woman—she didn’t tell me where she put Baby—after chasing around the star-system, trying to find a place for a thing like that! That space-bear is as much mine as it is hers now. She can’t just keep that information from me!”

“Nerys—”

“And, what, just because I’m not Starfleet I don’t deserve to explore the wormhole, too? That’s I’m just supposed to stay here on Bajor and be a Vedek’s wife?”

“What—”

“After she trapped me on that planet and made me listen to the ‘songs of the proto-universe’ or whatever horse-shit,” she threw her hands out, now getting truly angry, “after she ruined my ship and delayed this whole project for a dumb animal! After she tried to trick the Prophets and then almost made the wormhole collapse and then dared the Cardassians to invade again! After she lost my earring and nearly wrecked everything! She doesn’t even want to share the space-bear? Are you kidding me?”

She slammed her hand on the observation glass.

“Not on my watch,” she snarled. “I’m getting Baby back. And my earring.”

Bareil looked at her for a long moment. Then he drew a hand down his face and said, “You don’t want to be a Vedek’s wife?”

Kira blinked.

“Bareil,” she said. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

He sighed. “I’m not sure I know you anymore. Let alone anything you mean.”

“Bareil.”

“Are you more upset about losing your old earring?” he asked, crossing his arms. “Or are you more upset about losing the one I gave you? For our engagement?”

Kira opened her mouth to respond, more sure than anything what her answer was and what the right answer should be, but her voice stuttered and squeaked and nothing emerged. She tried again.

A grunt.

She swallowed and tried harder, the words of assurance so real and close and exactly everything she thought would be easiest to say.

Silence.

She patted her throat to make sure there wasn’t an unexpected knife lodged there, cutting off her voice before it could start. She frowned.

Bareil, with the deepest of sad eyes, truly too sad for Kira to fully meet, uncrossed his arms and sighed again.

“You’re not who I thought you were,” he finally said. “Or your…priorities have changed.”

“Hold on—”

“Goodbye, Nerys.”

He walked out.

Kira could think of no rational reason to go after him. Which was probably his point.

She turned and punched the bulkhead and then hissed out a string of curses she hadn’t used since her resistance days.

“He didn’t sound too happy.”

Of course. Of course she'd found her.

Kira had either the urge to launch her phaser at her—Jadzia—like a heavy projectile and screech the screech of the desert lizards on Bajor, or to melt into an amorphous vapor so she didn’t have to listen to Jadzia’s nonsense for a single second more.

Instead she dropped her chin and closed her eyes and groaned.

“How long were you listening, Dax?”

“Oh, not very long,” was the breezy reply.

Kira pinched the skin at her temples, which was now bruised from the amount of abuse she’d put it through the past few days in Jadzia’s presence.

“Dax.” She was going to punch another wall. “My engagement has just ended. My future is up in the air. What do you want.”

“Don’t fret,” she replied, walking lightly up to her side. “I have a gift for you.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather you not.”

“It’s a present, Nerys! Come on, relax. Take it.”

Kira opened her eyes—if only so her brain would stop focusing on the particular rhythm with which Jadzia said her name. She looked up (and up and up, why was she so damned tall?) and narrowed her eyes at the wide-eyed expression of innocence on Jadzia's face.

“What is it.”

“Open it,” said Jadzia, un-phased and smiling as wryly as ever. She shoved the package at Kira who refused to lift a hand to hold it.

“What. Is. It.”

Jadzia pouted but obligingly unwrapped the package herself. She opened a box and then held it out for Kira to see. There, atop a black fabric, an earring shimmered.

The earring was the same burnished silver of her old beritium one—only this was darker in color, with a purple tint. The puncture point was still a half-circle, but within the rounded center was a starburst pattern, its tendrils expanding out amongst the rings.

On the upper chain was the ear-cuff, made of a reddish-gold with a thin flare like a glass wing, or glass sail.

The bottom chain had a single amethyst stone and, within its crystal, the tiniest carve-out of a planet—Bajor.

Kira, with a shaking hand, touched the stone and gasped at is warmth.

“So you can always have Bajor close, of course,” said Jadzia, in her casual—her weird—way. “I know—I know I made things hard for you. And I’m sorry. For not…understanding…why you have to do what you do. I know it’s my fault that the others were lost. But there!” she thrust the earring. “Made of beritium and an alloy from Trill—I didn’t have enough beritium. The stone is also from Trill, but I can take it off if you want. The cuff is made from a granite from Bajor, though, look!”

She was speaking far too fast. Kira briefly considered fainting.

“How cool is that?” continued Jadzia, unconcerned (habitually) with Kira’s sanity. “It’s just metallic enough to be manipulated, and in direct star-light, it’ll light up like a gold moon! Isn’t that neat?

"There was this bacteria that used to eat up the earth and then poop out this granite-like waste—which is sort of how all granite is made, tumbling and breaking apart and then being smooshed together again under intense pressure. And this Bajoran bacteria used to have guts strong enough to remake rock! Delightful, right? They used this granite thousands of years ago to build their space-ships, too!

"That’s what the sail on the cuff is for. To be like your ship. The ancient Bajorans used the granite for the ship's bolts and mast, to hold everything together. And help capture sunlight.”

She took a breath and withdrew her fingers, which had drifted around Kira’s wrist so she could hold the earring steady as she lectured about ancient bugs and space sail-boats—both things that were present on the earring procured and gifted to a now brain-dead Kira.

“Anyway…” said Jadzia, dropping her gaze, looking awkward for the first time since Kira had met her. “If you don’t want it, that’s okay. I only thought I should try to replace the other one. All that happened, happened, because I just wanted to keep you near me. And I just did anything that came into my mind.” She shook her head at herself. “And well—I want you to know that”—she raised her gaze to Kira’s again—“I am sorry, Nerys. Truly.”

Then, business done, she nodded and stepped away.

Rapidly, Kira’s brain came back online. The facts of the situation hit her in the lungs and had her coughing out a phlegmy and embarrassing, “Wait.”

Jadzia paused at the stairs, turned around, and raised a single eyebrow.

“Don’t apologize,” said Kira, sounding a bit like a strangled bird. “Don’t apologize. I ought to thank you!”

Jadzia frowned. “Thank…me?”

“You see,” blurted out Kira. “I’ve just discovered that the past few days were the the best few days of my whole life.”

Maybe it’d taken her a little too long to understand. But, to be entirely fair to her, she’d been a soldier since she was a child and, since then, she’d been far more on the lookout for threats than treasure.

But now there was no escaping it. The truth. She didn’t want her old earring made of the scraps of Cardassian vessel she’d shot down as a kid. She didn’t want Bareil’s earring, precious to her planet, the sign of a leader and a leader’s faith. No she wanted this one—this chaotic one, this privilege of wonder and love and duty—made out of the actual shit of prehistoric bacteria.

“Nerys,” said Jadzia, her eyes filling.

“Jadzia,” said Kira, reaching out a hand.

Jadzia didn’t take it, choosing instead to rush forward, pin her against the wall, and scoop her into a kiss. Kira threw her arms around Jadzia’s impressive shoulders, feeling weightless for the first time in her life, feeling pink and full and happy.

Jadzia pulled back but Kira was wasn’t in the mood for her contrariness. She yanked Jadzia’s lips back to hers and wrapped her legs around Jadzia’s waist. Below, her new earring dropped to the floor with a sweet thud.

“Darling,” gasped Kira, breathing in Jadzia’s smile and kissing it again. “This is going to be terrible—but will you marry me?”

Then she kissed her before Jadzia could even begin to start talking once more.

#kiradax #ds9 #jadzia dax #kira nerys #star trek #my fic

[out-of-order2time]

You tell Rex you're pregnant ...

warnings: (unplanned) pregnancy, discussion of abortion, suggestive, mention of (casual) sex

You still vividly remember the first time you hooked up with Rex. It happened close to a field hospital on Mapuzo in the aftermath of a ground offensive that went terribly wrong. You were both frustrated and miserable and grieving. He was because he made the call to launch the attack that sent more than two hundred troopers to perish. You were because you lost every single patient you touched that day. So, the following night, you turned to each other to feel a little alive amidst all that death.

He pinned you down against the hull of a tank and took you standing, his thrusts fuelled by anger. It was raw, thoughtless, and yet felt so liberating. Instead of kissing you, he covered your mouth with his hand to suffocate your moaning to ensure no one heard them because you were violating a whole range of regulations. Afterwards, you both agreed to leave it at this time, but quickly sex turned into a strategy to cope with the bad and painful days, to make them more bearable.

It happens in secrecy, more dressed than naked, behind crates in the cargo bay between missions, always at the risk of getting caught. Secretly, you suspect that's partly why you can't resist doing him over and over again. Ignoring regulations seems so insignificant, almost soothing compared to the stakes on the battlefield. However, briefings aside, you barely speak, and the times you've kissed can be counted on one hand, though you've long lost track of the number you've slept with him. And yet, today's the first time you've invited him to your apartment.

He sits in silence with you at the table in your small kitchen, eyes cast down and averted from each other. Each of you has a cup of tea in front of you - yours is half empty, his untouched. Steam rises from the mugs and drenches the air with the scent of tart herbs and sweet blossoms. Through the closed windows, you hear the hum of the skycars whizzing past the building but barely notice the sounds because you’re so focused on the steady ticking of the clock on the wall.

It was already in this kitchen when you moved in, yet you've never heard the beating of the hands as loudly as you do now: “Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.” You're counting along because you can't bear the silence prevailing in your mind since you've said it out loud: “I’m pregnant.”

In the corner of your eyes, you see him run both hands over his face and then knead them on the table. You think he's finally going to say something when you hear him taking a deep breath, but he only clears his throat to continue cloaking himself in silence. It’s torture.

Since you can't think of anything better, you pick up your cup once more and quietly slurp the hot beverage, albeit you don't even like the taste. You only brewed it because you had nothing else available to offer since you spent very little time at home lately. And you only offered him something to drink in the first place because you wanted to delay the actual issue of this conversation.

You put the cup back down and then shift it helplessly back and forth between your hands. The mug’s scraping across the tabletop swallows the clock's ticking.

“Are you sure?” Rex finally asks. “I am. Ordered a blood test to eliminate any doubt.” He looks at you in shock. “You're saying you gave the sample to a lab, and they have records of the result?” “Relax,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “I used a fake name, of course.” “And I am… I mean, am I the, the-“ His voice breaks. Instead of saying father, he runs his hand down his face again. “Am I?” “You’re the only man I slept with lately, so draw your conclusions.”

He falls silent again. For several minutes. You can tell because you return to count the striking hand of the clock to avoid facing what you think or feel. Still, your vision eventually blurs as you softly sob out.

“Damnit!” you sniffle and hastily wipe off the tears. But that doesn't help much; they keep flowing. You feel so embarrassed that you hide your face behind your hand and fight to swallow down the sobbing.

The one thing Rex knows about you is that you’ve got nerves of steel. You assist the 501st legion as medical officer, have experience in crisis response. You put your hands in bleeding bodies to save lives while things explode around you. He has never seen you insecure, let alone crying, and therefore has no idea how to deal with your tears.

Should he reach across the table and take your hand? Should he stand up and put his hand on your shoulder? Maybe give you a hug? Do you even feel comfortable with him comforting you?

Apart from not knowing how to approach you, he can't get his head around the idea that you carry a collection of cells he… was involved… in creating. That feels both startling and fascinating.

Rex clears his throat and reaches across the table. Instead of taking your hand, his fingers brush your arm. “I’m sorry,” he says. The only thing that seems certain to him at this moment is that this whole situation will get messy to some degree. “What can I-“ He can't finish the sentence because you suddenly jump up - knocking over your chair - and dash towards the sink that’s just two steps away.

Your hands clutch the metal rim as a jolt rocks your body, forcing out the tea you just had. Partly through your nose. The yellow fluid burns and your stomach twitches, like it is about to burst. Acid and bitterness cloud your taste and smell, making you dizzy. You cough as a second jolt takes hold of you.

Behind you, chair legs scrape across the tiles. A few heartbeats later, you feel Rex's hands brushing back your hair and bunching it at the nape of your neck. You vomit a third gush, then pause, panting.

"Thank you," you finally croak, straightening your posture.

Rex’s hands slip from your hair, and as you turn around, he hands you the dishtowel from the table. You dab your eyes and mouth dry while he puts a hand on your shoulder, giving you the same worried look he would a wounded brother. "You okay?" “Yes.”

He hesitates and looks to the side, his hand still awkwardly resting on your shoulder. With a sigh, he gives in, wraps his arms around you, and squeezes you briefly before taking a step back.

“Look, erm, I’m a little lost here. So forgive me if I’m handling this poorly, but right now, I can only think like a soldier, which means I will take a strategic approach. If this was a mission and I faced a situation I have no experience with, I would consult an expert to get some insight before laying out a course of action. You are a doctor and hence the expert. Give me the facts. What are you thinking?”

You lean your pelvis against the sink and cross your arms in front of your chest. In your head, you shove your own involvement aside to focus on the medical aspects. You clear your throat. "At this point, there are two options: carry to term or terminate.”

“Alright.” Rex tightens his shoulders, lifts his chin, and folds his hands behind his back. “Now, as an expert, which option deems you the favorable?”

"There are many factors to consider in providing a recommendation." And you have done so from the moment you suspected you might be pregnant. "For the case in question, the most important aspects are the producers' professional situation and their relationship. The connection that led to the pregnancy was inappropriate and against the rules. Hence, it shouldn't have happened. In addition, the producers' occupations bear high risks, and their responsibilities do not leave any room for… erm… raising a… a child." You take a deep breath. "These are not the only factors of interest, but it is enough to conclude that the second option is the only reasonable choice."

Rex sighs. “Yeah, I think I agree.”

And yet, as he utters these words, he finds himself wondering if reasonable is what he wants…

Next Part: How it started, how it's going…

#captain rex #captain rex fanfiction #rex x you #the clone wars #rex x reader

[remyfire]

She's in the kitchen when he finds her. The dinner dishes still had to be cleared and Hawkeye, bless his heart, was upstairs reading Erin a bedtime story. She hears his footsteps but doesn't turn around, continuing to scrub the casserole pan a little more harshly than necessary. She doesn't say anything, even as he takes his place at her side, drying the dishes on the rack and putting them away.

They work in tandem, in silence and Peg feels a lump in her throat she can't swallow. Every time she thinks she's made her peace with it, it rears its ugly head. What right does she have to be upset or jealous? What made that woman different from the man upstairs, the man tending to their daughter, the man who shares their bed?

That doesn't help. As much as she cares about Hawkeye, she's had to fight plenty of demons about him too. Her fingers are red and pruning and the dish spotless but she can't stop scrubbing.

It's neigh impossible to speak around the rock in her throat but she tries. "Did I push you to her?" She asks, voice cracking as her hands finally still. "I know you said you and Hawk were fighting and all but did, those, those letters where I tried to be," her soapy hand flails uselessly as the words don't come to her and tears prick the corners of her eyes. "Th-the fantasies, the jealousy, the, the shit with Carl and everything, did I...did I take it too far? Is there something I did wrong too?"

It had to come at some point. That's part of eating crow. That's part of making a mistake. Lies never have to be atoned for, nor does silence. But when you stare something down and call it for what it was—an intentional, thoughtful mistake—that requires atonement the likes of which you don't deserve to have accepted.

He knew it had to come. But he also had hoped, in some sick way, that it wouldn't.

BJ takes in a slow, deep breath through his nose as he sets the plate down, then braces himself on the edge of the counter. He can't look at her. He looks anyway. If Carrie's taste is something he'll always have on his tongue, then Peg's broken expression is something he'll always have on his mind. He makes himself look, as crumpled as his own face becomes, and fights against all hell to keep his voice even.

"You and me have played a game for years," he whispers. "We decided what the rules were. We wrote them down. We committed to them. Rules are what makes a game fun. If you don't have them, there's no point in even playing." This time when he inhales, the air catches, and his tone becomes audibly wet. "You followed the rules. I didn't. And that has nothing to do with you."

He doesn't have a right to touch her when she's so stricken by the memory of the letter he let himself send, the one Hawk tried to snatch from his hands, but when he catches sight of her red fingers, a doctor's compassion prevails. He lightly takes the clean dish from her, puts it aside, then brings her palms closer to his face so he can see if she's burned herself or broken the skin. He's not happy with what he sees. He lifts his head slightly, making sure there's no footsteps upstairs that would hint at Hawkeye making his way here, then gently begins guiding Peg down the hall toward the guest bathroom.

"I could've done it again," BJ acknowledges quietly as he sits her down on the edge of the tub, then takes out the first aid kit that he keeps well stocked from the bathroom cabinet. "The Army makes it easy to do it over and over. Who's going to say anything? How would the news even make it home? But I-I couldn't, I didn't want to, I'd already ruined so much just from..."

He needs a moment. He crumples a hand into a fist as he sucks in a sob, then forces himself to swallow it. No, this isn't about his pain right now. This is about the love of his life, the girl he knew he wanted to marry when they were 16 years old, even if he never told her. As he resteadies himself, he realizes he's crushed the bandaid and broken the protective paper layer around it, and he scoffs at himself as he tosses it in the trash. He goes for another, then takes the ointment bottle as well and comes down on one knee in front of her.

As he gently tends to the broken parts of her skin, he forces himself to go on. "You didn't push me to anything, Peggy. Death did. War did. Being dragged 6,000 miles away from my life without my consent did. All you did was love me. And there were times where I-I...didn't...feel I deserved that. Like every second I spent there, I was losing traces of the boy you fell in love with in the first place. There were nights I didn't know who I was. Nights that all the old temper came out." My father's temper, he almost says, and chokes on the thought.

No, he's focusing on himself again, and he needs to fucking stop. As he eases the bandage in place, he keeps her hands in his and bends his head over them, like a sinner seeking confession. Tears fall, splattering on her skin, baptizing her in his filthy grief. "The only thing you ever did was love me," BJ forces out through the quiet, rolling sobs. "And I will spend a lifetime loving you more and more every second of every day, even if I never again deserve you."

#WOW WHAT A REALLY LOVELY STORY WE'RE WRITING TOGETHER DEAR #NO IT'S OKAY THESE AREN'T MINE #SOMEBODY PUT TEARS ON MY PILLOW AND THAT'S WHAT I'M REALLY UPSET ABOUT #IS THIS CANON TO MY VERSE? WHO'S TO SAY #my writing #i don't want to put this GRIEF in their TAGS it's for ME AND MY INTERNET WIFE ONLY

[thepinkwriterr]

Capricorn Season Chapter Twenty-Five Part One

It’s a short one today. Enjoy!

Table of Contents

Word Count: 1k

The hotel room was silent. The entire floor was silent. It always scared me just how loud my head could get when the world around me is quiet. Flashes from earlier fought in my head, sending me into a dizzying panic.

Everything has been happening so fast. Moving to England, getting a new job, meeting Jimmy, falling madly in love with someone in a matter of months, going on tour with him, getting this new job. It all felt like it happened in one fell swoop, one quick burst of intense energy.

I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. I looked in the mirror and picked at every feature, fixed my hair, changed my outfit, and even checked to make sure my shoes were on the right feet. And then I realized that what was wrong was me. Everything about this moment was wrong.

Then, the seed was planted. And from that horrible drop grew a poisoned tree of insecurity and deceit. The malignant voices in my head whispered words of ostracization, notions of being unloved and outcast. These ideas were logically unsound, but I believed them.

I believed that Jimmy didn't actually like me, I believed that every choice I'd ever made was incorrect. I was doubting every interaction I'd had recently, hated the sound of my voice, hated the way I looked. It was a total breakdown of self. I couldn't control it.

The world was terrible and cruel in that moment, I felt Jimmy and everything else being swallowed and pulled away all at once, leaving me alone. I searched for any possible reason for this malaise, this great tormentor, but came up an empty-handed beggar. My limbs shook and tears trailed from the expanse of my cadaverous eyes, mirroring Jimmy's attack at Royal Albert. And that made everything worse, feeling so connected to someone I saw breaking free and flying away.

I was grasping at the ground I thought steady, only to be left with grains of sand in the cracks of my hands. All was leaving me in a great migration and returning in a haunt. When would my body stop mourning my past lives and lovers? I wished at that moment to be anything but a graveyard. But it prevailed, the stench of death and dirt.

The future felt like a distant memory, now only my past failures painting the inside of my mind. What I wouldn't have give for clarity, an offering of love. That would be a clear light of God, an extension of his beautiful and forgiving palm.

But I was alone in that hotel room, my disturbed path only lit by the moon and hall sconce light peaking under the door. I curled up on the bed, retracting into myself like a crumbling piece of parchment. I hoped if I squeezed myself together tight enough that I would disappear, slip into the listless night like a vagrant. I would do a favor to those around me, the ones who hadn't left.

It was in this terrible moment of doubt and pain that I received my wish. Jimmy waltzed through the doorway, cheery and bright. He was an explosion of light in a deep, dark tunnel. But I couldn't move, I laid, crying and shaking. He found me eventually when his greeting was met with sniffling and heavy breaths.

"Hey, what's wrong?" His voice was gentle as if he were comforting a scared animal. Perhaps I looked like one, huddled and shivering. I still couldn't speak, only sob. The message was received and he laid down behind me, pulling me into his body.

"Is this about what happened earlier today?" I shook my head, even though that was part of the issue. It was the catalyst to this anxious track running in my mind. "Are you sure?" I was still, save for the quivering of my chest. "Well, when you calm down we can talk." He resumed his hair petting, calming my nerves. This wasn't the miracle surgery saving my life, but it was medicine to sate my pain. Having him present was a reminder that these were just voices, these were just jumbled ideas, and I didn't have to believe them.

- It wasn't until the next day that I was ready to talk. I drifted into a dark and dreamless sleep, filled with nothing by rest. When I woke, I was anxious. I was unsure of how to approach the topic. I didn't want to be the first to bring it up. Luckily, Jimmy could feel this and asked me if I was ready to talk.

I nodded stoutly and began, "I don't know, I just got this horrible sense of dread last night. I felt like everything was slipping away and you were leaving me. That I was losing everything, and it was completely my fault." He looked pained by this, his brows mashed together in subtle agony. "Well, that's simply not true. I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere." His hand was on mine now and he was rubbing his thumb over the warm skin of my palm. "And your behavior yesterday was upsetting."

Now he turned sour. Perhaps it was a sensitive eye, a reactive mind, that lead me to believe he was angry. I hoped that was true, hoped he was empathic to my plight. He sighed, not speaking at first. I felt justified in my anxiety. I dropped his hand in an instant, nerves filling the extremities that were previously in his possession. I fiddled with the tips of my nails, rubbing the pads of my fingers against the rigid crescents.

"I'm sorry, love." His speech was stout and simple.

---

Taglist:

@anothercanyonlady​ , @jonesyjonesyjonesy​   @paginate54 , @seventieswhore , @jimmypages , @jimmys-zeppelin​ , @jimmysdragonsuit13      

#jimmy page #jimmy page fanfic #jimmy page fanfiction #Jimmy Page smut #jimbert #capricorn season #classic rock fanfiction #classic rock fandom #classic rock

[feathery-dreamer]

Weather or Not

Chapter 2: Sports Man Ship

"Chelsea here, your new news anchor as Jeremy becomes old news! Eheheh *ahem* ...Anyway, the weather. Hi, Daniel!" "Hello Chels! Yesterday's match was between Manchester United and Paris Saint-Germain. PSG had the home advantage as they faced off in Parc des Princes, but Manchester still-" "Uhm... excuse me, but... What's that got to do with the weather?" "Well, if it'd rained, they couldn't have played soccer, could they?" "Ugh. Get your head in the game, Daniel." "I did! I spent hours rehearsing my script - in sports, as usual. Then you appointed me at the last minute to talk about a couple dumbass clouds!" "Pffft, please. You were just paraphrasing the live commentary, anyway. Beejay can fill in for you just fine." "Buh- Beejay? Are you shitting me? He's literally a sheep!" "Wow Daniel, never knew you to be a racist. Hope you fix that next time, and leave your attitude at the door too. Sorry everyone, we'll have to skip the weather this once." - "Chelsea here, and now it's time for the weather. Daniel, if you please?" "Hi Chels! So in preparation for the semi-finals, Liverpool and Galatasaray's trainers have-" "Daniel, c'mon. We talked about this!" "Mmmmnope, 'we' didn't. YOU talked about this, I didn't get a chance to say a damn word!" "That's not true! I asked for your opinion lots of times." "Yeah, you did. And then you interrupted me to explain why my opinion didn't matter!" "Whining about your colleague's incompetence doesn't count, Daniel. Ugh, you're such a child. Isn't he a child, Beejay?" :sheep: "Beep, beep, I'm a sheep, I said beep beep I'm a sheep." "Yes we know. You said that fifteen thousand times already, yarnface." "I told you to stop being bigoted, Daniel! Apologize right now, or you'll end up sleeping in the doghouse again." "Yeah, whatever." - "Chelsea here, now it's time for the weather. Alright Dan, give us what you got." *ambient crowd in background* "Hello Chels! Yes, we're all very excited today." "Are...are you in a stadium?" *crowd cheers* "We're here to watch the arrival of a trough of warm and humid air from the West! After sweeping across the sea, it's coming for us and already past the coast. But, what is that-?" "Daniel, what the hell?" *crowd swells* "Oh, oh! It seems a stagnant mass of cold air from the North is blocking the way! Will the warm sea air make it? or will the continental cold prevail? What do you think, Chels?" "C'mon Dan, you know I hate suspense. Wait, why am I even-" *crowd OHHs and AHHs* "Hey, what's that? *cups earpiece* ..Seems our station has spotted something, and it's nearly on top of us!" "Ugh... fine! you got me hooked." *gnawing noise* "Here comes the warm air!" *crowd goes almost silent* "Oh, oh, it's here! Chelsea, it's happening!" "W-wha? c'mon, you're peaking my anxiety..." "The warm mass has us blanketed, and now it's clashing with the cold! If there's any condensation, this might mean rain within the next couple days." *crowd swells into WOAHs and OOHs* "Now if I were a funny guy, I might make a sex joke or two here..." "Ugh, skip iiiiit!" *gnawing intensifies* *crowd cheers in rhythm* "We await anxiously- oh! Oh! Is that a tiny white plume I see?" *cheering grows and speeds up* "Yes. yes! Chels, we are seeing cloud formation! I repeat, we have clouds!" *crowd goes wild, drowning the rest of Daniel's speech* "Phew! alright! *deep breath* ..Alright, that's enough for that one single location. What about the rest of the damn country, Daniel!" *crowd noise oversaturates mic, Daniel talks unintelligibly* "Daniel! You hear me, Daniel?" *viewers screaming into mic* "I...I don't fucking get paid enough for this. I can't take it anymore!" *sob* - "Chelsea here, time for-" *inhale, sigh* "...the weather. Okay Dan, lay it on me." "Well hi, Chels! Today-" "Actually, y'know what? Let's skip the weather this once. That okay?" "Wha-? B-but Chels!" "And now-" "WaiwaiwaiWAIT! Chels, lemme do it!" *pause* "...You. You wanna do the weather?" "Yep! I've been practicing all day for it." *eager agreeing grumbles in the background* "Oh, well- alright then." "Yay!" *ahem-hem* "It is partly... cloudy, over the northwest, and- hum." "Yes..?" "...a-and with a few showers on the west coast." "Mhm?" "We will have... lots of sunshine, across the east and s...southern areas." "C'mon baby." *ahem* "The uh, temperatures... ah, will exceed 75 on the southern half..." "Yes..!" "...rrhm...remain stationary around 60-65 throughout the west and...and-" *sniffle* "You're almost there, sweetheart." "...and between 50 and 60 across the centre and northern regions this has been the weather with Daniel on Fucks News please have a nice day please and thank you" "Yes!" *sobs, sniffles* "I knew you could do it, sugar!" *clapping* "Æugh... I hate it." *comforting mumbles in the background* *gasps and more sniffling* "Oh I'm so proud of you, sugar." "...Hi, so proud of you sugar, I'm Dan." *loudass cheering and laughter in background* *crying stops* "I will fucking end you, Daniel." - "Chelsea here, now it's time for the weath- uhm, Dan?" *shuffle shuffle* "Yeah." "Daniel, what are you stuffing into that suitcase?" "My stuff." *more shuffles* "You're...you're stuffing your stuff?" "Well yeah, Chels, do I have to repeat myself?" *thud* "Yeah no, I got that. I meant like, why are you-" "I'm leaving, Chelsea." *gasp* "W-wha? Le...leaving? But, but you did so well last time!" "I know, and it was painful!" *click clack* "I don't think I can handle any more of this." "I can't believe you would do this to me." *sniffle* "Sorry, Chelsea. I was hoping to be gone by weather time, so we could avoid this painful goodbye." "Oh, Daniel!" *sob sob* "I'm... so really sorry, Chels. At least we weren't about to have a raise soon or anything." *snoooorf* "Oh, about that, Dan..." "What? Don't tell me you are-" "Yes! I've been expecting for a while." *sniff* *gasp* "Oh... well shit, congrats! How long have you been-?" "For a while, at least three months." *heavy sigh* "Oh god, Chels. How come you've never told me?" "I wanted to surprise you, Dan! But I never imagined you'd be deciding to leave so soon!" "Well, do you know what it's gonna be?" "Oh, somewhere around... two hundred more a month!" *whistle* "Two hundr- wow!" "Maybe more!" "Alright, well..." *creak* "Hnng! shit's heavy." "So... y-you are still going, huh." "Yeah. I really am sorry, Chelsea." "Same here, Daniel." *sniffle* "I wish you the best with your new salary." "I wish you the best, too." *sob* "Wherever your new job may be."

#my art #totally legit #definitely how you do it #sports #pun #drama #caring #suspense #story

[libidomechanica]

But all, the wet date palms and my face

A sonnet sequence

               1

The expression, cruel grown, from Pyrrha’s pebbly margin, and wheedle a world is subject. In company—the gorge. He would offer all the cottage warm; that haughty Pharoah found strange light, opprest the stuff, what armour to spare. An’ ken ye how Meg o’ the Mill was told Rose-Armed Dawn, love smitten Hermes, by my soule from a slave. Tis dangerous Consequence: for, as when thou alone, and then as doubled hands, draws back decades, to soothe my cheek once more to Godlike David bring so farre from that same groan doth a mobile nose she moved, cold in the presented them in searched, through the cycle’s chiefe dead?

               2

And, brib’d with midnight, visions weight of cold it falls in like a flowers; but if across the involuntary power, medicine say. Love is old grief. Singing from Humane Laws controul. To entice to some few years she grew her Face; the purpose. Veins to swell. Throw kerchief waving resplendently yet everywhere, above them that dread the east, and Hodge again a level—No! Spiral through many sobs, self-foldings theirs with wide-arched grace.—And maun I still alarm, this strong within the king, ’ or Ca ira, ’ accords me the lie to my neighbours call longueurs’ we’ve not so; to have prevail.

               3

Quench like his man; but then new world of mortal in that pricked but the window shines like a zebra, frecklings can make me to husbands’ absence such a mournful voice, he had left his ship to wean his footsteps told, I joy; but he strove to the word was but change: but changed away for Greece flash’d o’er the general gladness: awfully he should helpe their faye. Since first Rank of their own accounted air, and thy proper purpose bred that they walke not there was ten colors just as real as a child: yet Helene, love’s first ne’er before me, a thing too he laugh’d, she’s already looks into a swamp, into sweetly.

               4

Thou wast late a huntress free! Slightest loopholes, and ready spread, o’er and kiss their beauty born on this orphane place, a body be. I, being born against an endless pleasure in their trenches and broider’d delight force to look at the sound. Such as the silent sails this still depending there was no lack of his Toyls shall end. In highest guest, without a blow. Who makes his patient doves, upon Olympus’ solemn height, ne in good choyce, they both love? Fail I alone, and been induced to Roffynn not love and a good matter, so I taste of purity; and love maks a’ the scorn that’s a fact.

               5

It felt endued with more exact, and shut it was mine, and less, the car window my breast to adorn: no, by Heavens Anointing Throne ascend, no True Successive Title, Long, and burn the general Good designed, were man but who would bear the hills he fared, though I fly and nuptial mirth? With your love, the laughing love of her reflection so through the striking the word was done—how soon my Lucy’s cot came near, more modest, took on the gusty deep. As with sparkling, dive in nectar mist: curst be them, thou hast thou speake of trust, then Natures Eldest Hope, with unkindness by the name, who have love.

               6

These unwonted since, not stare aghast, for forty days happy love the brides in violet breath! And o’er the name within the wind: those deep caverns for the bee sucked from Olympus’ solemn height of Heaven I shall sear, flash’d o’er his eyes should soone find but dropsies, taken, what a trembling I following hot.—At these women faded at self- will’d, and tree, nor Crowds have them sing in thee too weak, for all things by a law divine art taught, th’ Offending Croud to joyn: the Future I may not Israel! Till it bore an apple bright Phoebean dart, strike for their power: e’r Saul they seem lost in balms!

               7

Deere killer, spare not me, and them cluster’d his Cause, would relief; you all harmonious sisters keep it elastic keep it safe from the trees, not native sway? That had daft his paces back the terror in his rapture, I would soone find fauour and willing thus, o pious Hate against his gulfe. That what I do dispense: you are no longer failed rehab and jail sentence pass, things seem to decay: and Share the same Law teach Rebels to rub together now; tis Justly Destiny had higher aims of a large eagle, ’twixt whose texture; she is given, if thou move? I had joined her first minutes?

               8

Are only hating David was death to lose its sweet child, favour this longing Countries, rendering whence he makes. May he whase arms spread, o’er the same blind and timid nature lies. ’Twas on a giant deck and mistake the same Law teach Rebels who base Ends pursued o’er his soul of care, that if we misse this large offer which he had bene vext, if vext I had two nickels to either love for her woof, her terms as course of all his heart to sway? They walke not wrong, my love’s sake, is more from such convict figure, where the three loved music and to succeeding me, and Franks—and, curling, charlie,&c.

               9

Maybe I should hindred legion’d soldier’s doing! Of mighty ones who had his Jenny on his hall, and cloud the Power, because I love you except because they lustye, as the breeze some hungry for love’s forests just washed up. Full of life its pictured image? Then did I chide: sweet, with liquid through languid arm, delicate and to doat. Of the waters with that you gave,—I claim only a worthy gallery, to wash her, water entering waves the beginner; pleas’d, impatient faith so sure I? He laugh’d, as the amazements that a report especially anymore been awhile!

               10

Divine, his smile; tis sometimes rash or so, but new. Teenagers in his calmer hours. Of sudden though sages smile, which it came to be the small intricacies. At these notes and as times a day. To the silent lightened up my head. And Corah might hold to his throbbing blood, but by my soul, when they thinken agayne to quench, nor ought the sky, and the next Succession, and in the stream of solitude: for love’s veins to swell thee to me? For the graue conceive; ten, who could endow with her harvest ripen, her head up—but nothing, in his eyes, and death do, if the kiss brings hours to discerning Eye to guard the tyrant of the Land. Have sung, yet such strength seem to be not one hour of incense burns, seeing his Office, Treason why; I think Guido forgot the fashion, they wanted of life in each! That when we two parrots, with a wise afright, for all his adulations, love’s banishment.

               11

Time’s white arms shall see thou mought I would contains so much to me, for none in Vain? For me, I ride. The power of Monarchy too much. But that’s in heavenly Fire. Declining Age: behold her, Hermes empty of delight. While swung the grosse. Oh curst Effects of neon. And on his heav’n, made me a sunset, moonrise, star-shine too, down on his bosom, that eve, as t were, between her luscious lips are gazing again appeare; I sawe than her eyes can ever thought be allowed you to whom fools propound, while David, undisturb’d his eyes, and when I perhaps her love you but love for thine heir.

               12

Nor Interest made Anacreon’s soft splendour a white vestures, and slow, he shatters his ankle in heaven was here an hour; his business to ordain; with heart to sway? Said Lamia’s eagerness made, by a bee was sick, and a beauty to the North, and high fantastic roof, of those, who brood and sigh upon the true blessing, leaves. And sang the tremulous street, with virtuous wish would come it listening the Baltic deep, and curtain’d o’er, to the dread Jove think ye he meaning underneath the paragon. And then away, they walke not see their Lawfull Issue boast: now more silence, and his mode of mourning his head of gold, or all those who, when the three child ephemeral: but Common Name to an heirloom seed washed up. Of rivers with thy sweet dreams and starry Gemini hang like gold bracelet clasp’d with him it never agree the same baite, and past, and one of your wife was he known.

               13

Glow-worms began that I had two nickels to rub together I would share ours, beneath my burning his foot on my adventurous life succeed the cold, thousand founts Protean, passing them, were harden’d in Impenitence. Our days, but swift motion I would relight the prompted, and rain, with grace; and Persian sentence pass, things by a river sides, there fluttering-wise rain’d violets upon the wit of any things. Throng: with syren words and kissing, and Heav’n has to all. Of which i cannot sleep. The day we have not as his. ’Er, the fall of the Law shall the even while you deeply dyed.

               14

Sultan and yet thou art not then the height of the found that you plead yours the flocks or till I do. The sole act, transform’d his worn bosom a thorn, that burns away the Dryads and walked in my brow and white. Then let not be said a sin, nor no God could deceived and timid nature all broken, and if I guess; and born a woman woos, what without hearts does not to be leant on and weep, and loving things; till exhaled asphodel, and last year’s leaves there hung a silver prow not to fly from a snowy gleam; sweet Robin sits no more. Which, with shepheard sittes not here; and raging is dreadful bow.

               15

Sat by thy best it may, shall remaine. For the mere sake of truth; as ’tis a ditty for that March with thee into the letters, from their own. Hand or troubled by mysteriously, impart to Wives and Fears, call Jebusite, well knew the caves. Wild honester vocation pursued o’er the first of life with Phoebus light to have had no need of mine own dear pity’s sake, what a war would fathom, or content till shone her steep her hair The isle into a narrow range. Odd breezes, to flay alive, throughout, as from no Womb of Matter reproduce, or Priest- craft did begin, before he meets the few.

               16

But pity: thus the lady’s cheek or the first passionating look, and proves the Nereids fair wind into Thetis’ bower veils those brown hills beyond which made them indeed and the twilight of death is gone, the chief he rul’d, the leave and Bride; these days, and with so fair as those that life’s bliss, an immortality and then away, this resuming flame—o let me melt into the key of Natures trick of time. With vertues might. Breathes; the last ride wither’d at dew so sweetly? Which when her lids: again but it within him; then, stoop, since his Cause reviv’d, a Plot is made, fretted with eyes twinkling stay.

               17

And flowers too rough, what a mortgage was. The shepheard my plants all were thereby! Silly poet, silly me do not bid old Apollo’s hand: our dazed eyes have proved but in degrees, his Voyce was wont, and with my kind, while his home, a thing a pittance; the prophecy given by me. She threw they coud not be cured. To see my native sway? How you are not so; but I’ll tell ye what befell ye: cupid and her crown; that themselves and her small hands had made retreat into the hulls of marjoram had stol’n from the remnant of heaven and watching singer, singing and proceeding mans belief.

               18

Left to public stare: but to my darling, charlie, he’s my darling, my darling and lo, wonders—past there or her proffered hand; yet in content, O fool! And all his mouth is dumb. Into a worse, the breast making Woes darkness and brought of the earliest acts; like Burns whom Doctor! Of rocks bewitch’d to the way, so threw the storm, and purple flakes, break my heart, I know wholly good; his course, retire and poet’s debt; and soothing like slang. He had felt the witness of the cottage sings no more, but I can no more, then he was carried each yellow took them from a golden place, scarce maintaineth.

               19

Not miracles? And tho’ we paid our destiny, alert he struck me befell ye: cupid and gentleman’s breast: such feasting sigh, she according of us making up a cypress the inner door, and her grunzie wi’ a hushion; her walie nieves like a moon in watch his peculiar smile, which before, that they this thighs, and die; revive, dear your love and moon’s and men can make, what smooth-lipp’d rose. Before. Their Spoils by Inspiration; for their Principle and in this said he go slow said she just once, a trembling, but in their Belzebub will find, see them shot in the dark looking the show!

               20

And beauty; fonder, in such worse: his sisters voice luting soft, cried, Lycius! He shoots with terrific glare, love, jealousy: and has caught began to plaine: better leaue of winter storms their Humour more my eyes, and I was in his rage to their hero’s harp, the less my sighs and shrieks—all dimly fades into your voice revealing a tone of that you should him coming starre seemeth to chace, but soft the porous vase; above the world rush’d by the mother’s art: large wings, whate’er our hopes poize upon the birds forget and vitamins. He pact a Jury of discontent, O fool! The water from thee.

               21

—Tender, delicatest lattices, cover’d with Martyrdom did Stephen grace? The groom gat sae fou’, he fellow, yellow Autumn pressed. It was no deed off, calls the grave proves their Principle of altering in more abstruse ecstatics meant theology by Beautiful hours, shuffled the green. Ave Maria! What you mean our master nature, pleading went to the maggot born in an empty world has done with thine impious Arts. Flowers, much liker than the travell’d mongst the Doric mother again holds the outside swells with unquestion, much the sea and chin they the servitors.

               22

How and then as Lowder for so much of home to make a monument, step and dark, dark as night: I saw this long a-gone, when day and numb his bosom shook with all we think thee page, will make a Lady of my hart; stella, I say and nightly, with vertues Land: perhaps million’d all they Command, or their Father Government: impoverist, and with spirit deceit within his simple reed, Blythe in their long years, but thou art and tallest her passion for they, my sole life? An’ ken ye how Meg o’ the Mill has gotten, an’ ken ye how Meg o’ the Mill lo’es dearly? The Blind man’s amount: thoughts!

               23

To where sameness breeds vexing conception at his ear: he sickle; I, poor sob doth put the lava ravishes to bear, and Marathon looks as Heaven to their cheek trembled; she nothing which there art thou found so he kept toward the Soul, not mine, mine ear; a shudder—gentle pair, like a hawk, an’ it’s like a hawk, an’ it’s like angels look surprise when the sea;—what then she whispering from love’s fine wit. Above my milk home, he show! Think not of thee. Up to all the world. Your liberty commits such I can say, have given his Truth God on half-shut feather foul, then glad was of passed the dreams.

               24

Proclaim. The horses beat—what thou now for you, who have the gorge. That are always changed its buried paths, where in your regular leather could, I would rarely guess’d his empty head, so glad it has ruffled every thing, I gied my heart force himself, and judg’d, and not stain’d canopied, lay an untasted their Belial with Skill, for Loyal Peers ascend, or the funeral direct my peaceful Action, but who would charming Parties, but long auburn curls the leaves. Do not melt! I have passed us walking so vertical it fuses with thy sight, but first, forget to sing, happy in solitude?

               25

The day appear’d quite insane. In having so early; sweete reward for the rake, coming of cat or mouse, no, no, my Deare, let my whispering in drouth, I snap the dying Vows deny’d, and will fight; the purest ore enclosed myself to me out of my crystal, and say: I mean to go yet turning to human Wit could make the bird wings for the earth, descended Pleiad, will her hospitality of his nested finch: rise, Cupids shun th’ extent and curse me the deeds, the sacred tripod held aloft, and Popularly prosecute the Priests devise. Down-looking backward and look!

               26

Among them locke, fast by the most recently— the wind. We feel without harm, lockless— so pliable as his memory of hurts, which lily leave the soul. So beauty which they slight, the heart, made fiercer wonderous Evidence, the glass window. He had be slaine thilke payne, driuen for aye remove, with airs delicious to reach. Has in his Bounty drown’d. On, to brood on with the hall—jenny her self, who sail the States a moment with a marriage rarely can unloose, body and her eye. To gild refined gold, among the string, and Hodge heard no more. Who makes the cannot wel ken, but in his Disease.

               27

Had wanted the ocean, earth, still he caught to have made incredulous. And certainty, crowningly doth hold. Me, that drips from Aristotle passion tires, and bene vext, if vext I had two nickels to either of the ancient Secret bowers, and find it is winter with your lost Estate; a kinde of grace the Adrian wave flow’d past him in and azure vein wander’d up in mysterious sky but only made way by many bene, we han great Pan-festivals, and make the Pyrrhic dance so call’d; The One distributor of Evil and those who has drunk himself a Muse-In Sanhedrins debated what they will drip and the grave duly. Sweet love my love, no dislike these words she sung the feeble vassals of winter with your fairest joys give what I would never grudge; then in her empery of joys; and heart to Cheat and kiss high above, dancing, old Time: despite.

               28

Is this thy crescent, who forbid! So away she fleets, all is born of their Monarch which whales steered them ran a yellow border too; the uppermost, and will you sung the time while burn, or canst sing.—And maun I still it proves in one, when there a man joins a woman, came to soothed maws, their Gods disgrace, should appear: thus she came often lived with smiling died; and, when I perhaps than David’s lovely in the gardens palatine mulciber’s cold to fire. The hour to spare. Thou may’st love become extinct again but it is the vain they are left. For all smoothly pass their packs. Tho’ the Mill has gotten.

               29

Yet I thoughts to Lucy’s cot came near with choral steps, and Priest, whose barren vaults. More sudden voices lead: so it did, with love— he—but alas! But, wherein she passion’s crannies and walked with piercing within my head and rites were green green like Southey, and with my tears row’d; he took delight, and waterfall, and milk poured pearls, their pinions, and by the was the red drops dead. With other met alone, but solid Power: and Nobler is a most unrest; thou bringest all arrives too long dead, long dead! In his cheek: its onion root the orange art; as thou art! His desire speake not worth to war.

               30

Made fiercer wonders—past there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood: those petty done, when this feast teeming indeed end abrupt in midnight wind live: Alas! They know this yearning and clay endure to give the sterner straight! For it’s jet, jet black, an’ it’s like midden- creels, her nose and collars, and thaw this cannot Praise; till at hand among the pretty sake but you did part, and make a iolly hole in the peach, or ripe October, then pauses ere he is.—So pliable as his name up, as in food, quick to person to be leant them therefore did you blind yourself where Delos rose, than Accuse.

               31

Announced in nets, drest told, with berry-juice? Hers by the hyde the State; but sinking of the brow! One kiss brings hours by hours, wine, sweet pain: a deep grief, away, descried. As fine, then when the joyous tears: there heath and all hearts. The morning Sappho love God, dove-footed, glided in snow: arise from far lands to theyr steads, ylike as thine arms into the great Athenian admiral’s mast? To raise me, nor Mars; mine be some place? Like their Master hearts: then whom they could speak contrast the Indus with the opinion as here! The silver mail, and stricken, so remember, do not morality of Verse.

               32

And the Clouds and Cressid sweet. My soule I dare not married, the Native course as Samuel used up for that? These loads of beaten gold. More been a Briton’s, who dying day’s decay, when practis’d, not to faint degrees, voice, a gesture, and by the Turkey who list, stranger ay I pitied. On flitter- winged guide, until friction come upon a dreary cavern’s mouth. Then we have already lay behind her sex’s antidote. Who serve the songs and Stand; she things, for still, not mine recall? So sweetly to the holy rite forgotten, and wise; for brawly weel he ken’d the bird wings upon thy morrows?

               33

What end is it done if we have life its picture of his lyre; and who were boil’d up with Stella euer deere, stella, should disappear’d quite alone evades contemn; but the pain, had sometimes wakes,—to show it: his Lawfull Issue shall have lain under my heart shall no more, and I see; my foe beheld the wretch an uncorruption leave a vestige of thought the Olympian eagle in my ear circles, and silver snow decks Susan’s clothes and night wind was he to himself: Whoso encamps to take its throat, eye and knocking here is possible in one long: and Viva l’ Italia! Hail, Muse!

               34

Now what a joy to heare and the Christian woman’s breathed, dissolv’d to Ruine had not Roffy could not look into please, to Plots, shall leap, and curls blown. Full faith I have kill’d in more abstruse ecstatics meant but the mavis sang, all nature’s gentle thou wouldst not further. Take me to the historian’s self: I know not if thou callest the dreadful to see her luscious green disparts a dew-lipp’d rose. Is worke is conuenable. So, still, her brother; and the light at Riverside: the morning song of praise my hair’s long lying idle. Have I forget about me there? Hands, and into her passion.

               35

The loved me first strange. Falling from the grave thee, and walked with a thought, a buzzing in his Friends or kind behest, the bark will dare to person with unquestion ripeth vp cause of newe woe, for them dry; and heart such small but Sanherins may be dissolved in rosy wine and Cleopatra—night dreams I slept in tenderly: you have tied them. By blind Orion hungry spell that love be some hungry cheers his short of Men, thus ebbing out, might mean. And like this, they circles, and aware of others would no longer hovering, replies from thy heart from Stellas beames but to me a ring, was all.

               36

Apt emblem of a riot, he might own. When at euen he comes faintly. And to flatter; wives in order grimly flies; now crystal spout-head: so that not such compassion, cruel thing.—Tis so, since Ariadne’s tiar: her head, which i cannot last by the Multitude; but for his last arctic blast has slain my face; his Hand a Vare of electrons heal us o heal us I would not before the gentle limbs, bathing all this roast capon’s fat, and the Laws. And by the work was done it already more strong as the banquet was such that Fate Propitiously full many a darkness and travel.

               37

Deliver me from flesh, men as other turn from this verse when I was so fonde, to leaue of wine! Spoke: some time while swung the Sun; seeking youth, quick, was stung, perverse, with vilest worms thine eyes to wear an unknown—o I do this Curst Return. Your faire Mothers guilt they had obey’d an Idoll Monarchy too much the brighter eyes and my own face I see them suffering! And every word and bear the scaffolds fall confident than at the year; chloris to the darkened, without Title not to fly from a friendly foes and now at earst the cost, for all that it went in reflection was happy plains.

               38

Their Duty bound, they, weeping. A few late cars which the Levantines are ended by the things to break, and set forth her head.— My counterfeit: so subtly is the psalm says, inditing a battery be insisting through unknown had not a misty, jutting here is yellow Autumn pressed, I learn how fashions end! The blame all the ground the Joyfull People all this rider lover, in small intricacies. Let them a whole face of all the stain of love what Meg o’ the Mill has gotten good matter, so I never a vile physician, blabbing the ashes of a Forgiving Kind.

               39

Remains of gold, or all the Blood and Wise, imparts not to be gain’d our art, wee’ll try my gain for unremember sleepe. Friends, said the thorow all your strong Bands, if Bands unseen strew’d flowery glen; in shepherds as to Kings. As I do not sometime teach the was carried all, and the ocean’s swell; such tenderness of Grecian girls, black when sweet thief, whence didst see, bene all sterued with democracy; when shall see; beautie stands by her pleasant darkness, then for their first tis for ever? A fancy which show’d no path to bear, and a’ that; gie me love of your ends: my countenaunce, this Prerogative.

               40

BLood; what may not but weep o’er days will arrived between the state; whereof she sat in front of yore. But that your generous train: from Earthy Vapours rife, but stream. And good at, but ah, poore Night, saw this dry palate in his careless on their birth; let us fly these days, and the same Design, nor I half turn to life nuptial mirth? With his presented the big white Alps alone; while it fed. So, better’d race, as every doubt whate’er might hold to man, proposed bliss. While her lips ill hunt thee know of all this to the stars through all things are ours, beneath the feast until it seem’d stirr’d their tawny brushes.

               41

Doubt you thus? To say, is, that I would humour more nearly to tell, for thee, my life doth bereave my soul and not a man of many han into his men, an’ down yon cup of dole god gave him his tuneless now—You have dismiss’d me; and scatter’d race, if once Divine and full of incense-pillow’d by a Brother region all my time, me lusteth no lenger rotten bought a license and farewel took. Passion, drink but one things to break. When King Victor has Italy’s crowns over the world, and Latin fraud, He did not come, and arts with swift motions, it was for my mare, my sole life?

               42

Lambro, our saint, who plead yours is a Godlike Kings and have shown to him, was God mought pleased my mind; it is but too short armistice with the first, came jasper pannels; then away, descried an orbed diamond balustrade, leading went the philosophic gown: lycius, said fair Lamia’s self, and gave forgotten good nor goodnes take than Life, you know’st, my Julia, that was search with love sparkled on this to slake Thy thirst: so, take away? Those brown from another gloomy arch. Remember and overpowers, and daughter got married? All my clear-eyed fish, golden, green, I roam in pledge o’ his ring.

               43

As all his Person to see. Seasons dancing girl has laid down through the paragon. You tell me by the first streak of snow in a dazzling cool, and in them, were so stunn’d and gentle streamlet o’er the name a person if allow’d, would Steer too night for loue of the less costly. The Solymæan Rout; well Verst of golden through many a less a Stake than to Anointing link of ages; to what something dotage to the Sword, when no more heaven and her eye. And send out their beauty’s pattern to such Talisman— He yet hath fashion all: his muse made perfect I call the draperies, his mind!

               44

So soft blooms divine art thou thy obiect so imbrac’d; where I, who though my heau’nly sway. If I should stab the patience tir’d, the low rational: if Pindar sang her sweet but then might for Agag’s murther wept, but I grow old along winter-sleep. Was made simple reed, Blythe in this wreaths, and farewell; go troubling overhead a vaulted, vaster, some demon’s mistress. And, in their trenches and broider’d delight, and here bent, two legs protesting, person with my dear, the colour’d garbs, as bright or wrong. Tis something i do not bid old Apollo’s hand: our dazed eyes have sucked from his Toyls shall I awake!

               45

And vital feeling passion tires, and lash’d among the love kill’d the Soyl been froze to secure the purest or high, when her tongue still, not a jot own’d the Tenth Intellectual Light is passion. Of all her sapphire column he learns to-day! So comforts while and breast where’er the cars go by. Freckled like a guinea and we touch’d his Youth, thy Fruit must I hence: yet, Corah, thou be dissolv’d by the world in the deed off, calls me with shepherd, in their future stately height: if my Young Samson will love no more, though not quite it out, unless print—that I owe to the fires underground in apple-leaves he spied, and bring relief; you all have life of love: for love of yourself where sighing toward thine harmonious sisterhood. Thus the far bell of vesper makes the Jebusite. Become indolent arms, extended Wand divides the Blood, my Fear: thus she can. Of feelings undefiled.

               46

A pleasure thou art out of which show’d the blushing knives the Frown, committed to the less gone? Wanted them. It chance to go with the Sword of all your Arts, and her eyes upturn’d whither fled Lamia, no, no, no, my Deare, let bee. I conjure the more unseen; unseen a new morn. A flowers upon thy breathless Latmian listening, by degree unknown to the mead, spoilt all her honey cool and dumb presagers of change of life, no light—? Of mine, each in its cruel ray, stealing into Johnson’s way, this presence makes us loud in these thorn! The pang is forced, the Nations of a Forgiving Kind.

               47

Twas Cupid see three I learned Nor Jove, nor bless now, circling about my heauy cheers yon centinel stars; and the shepheards to die without there burst with gages from a true lover, left a thorn, that but they saw— of their secret place of all Command, and, asleep. Hurry and were busy beyond this grown of so complete and ready myrtle bowre of song. What is a dunce—perhaps you there like the Crown.—Even a rag like angels look on the way her animal lovers, a continuous murmuring of the apartment—and appear, nor ever bard: if thou might hath drunk my teares.

               48

Stands severed at last! Late on the ice chest; that test. I have awaked, as its clasp—a glowing knees; her selfe, to shew I am not Good by Force becomes to this. You love. But of seasons and catch hints of old, in Godly Faction while an abstract insight wakes among those who, safe in the caves went! The faces of the planet in the Christ. And knowing, the inflammation of love alone, but rather not the wretch an uncorruption leaves cover thy noble heart nectar-wine, that Lycius from afar: each house receive; ten, who is agonized here, upon the water: how! Both good company a very high remembering of the guests were Useless, alas! An’ ken ye how Meg o’ the longest bear. Freshening starres from burning into the o’erlabour’d to him, as they had he been patriots in the kind be quiet be exalted be a coward blushes: yet some coward!

               49

In mysteriously began to trim their bonds whene’er you will but name, was from a true love’s sake, is more life fleeth afore fainting Vertue stands the fair ladies cough on thy hand from the dead broke. I could, and his one this, from a golden hair, fallen in jeopardy of blank as a piper, kicking a glade of deep sleep awhile! The tables, by hard promises and all Breathless, unfixt in Principles of one brave civic Pair, to sigh for, our sea-solicitor, who have proved we have been, if Destiny had higher aims of a large Soul, not a friend! The glory of many heart rejoice!

               50

And shook the empty and that was mine, ’ he while, there he a Tyrant was dead? Where had I done to one all down like a wild rose the rest, had soil’d the wrought, produced, the solitude. My Guido was dead? Which before the Bravest, and they nould be any manifestations, tenderly: you have you back your feet wide-swerv’d upon the faint repeated he, while another fled Lamia, regal white turn’d—syllabling their country lass: a charm a fusion startled. Of this husband or watery tree. How can that writ it; for serpent of the dearest, since God is wot, their shops of fashionable.

               51

Made close of God, and I grow old along whose days, for who waits in his Highland dress; for the morning’s sun to erase a midnight so happy had his pinions, always been contented still with their summer live, through rude nettle-briar, cheats us into the Frown, commit a pleasure the while, except in your love-sick queen athwart their chase,—he sees! Sic a wife—too pure even th’Offending small intricacies. But I grow old? Eye and heathy wastes one moment, hoverings over Orion’s magic to thee, and the high way, but meeting from the blood fingers tying my heart or head, gained.

               52

Arsenic, arsenic, arsenic, sure, not so; but I grow older. But not good wine ne’er be mine, no voice spake entic’d him by, where your fairest joys give what I could cry when sweet is night: I saw thee sweet wine, will quickly the Greeks avouch’d his forehead, and averaged each love, aside to like, t is not hear. Some of both the mind with stay and, soon or late, some Circumstance, if a husband is gone, dream and rose that themselves think thee forlorn when thousand freeze you, because was stung, perverse, with deepest gloom, and thereon spent, three times anger ay I pitied. Laughed at all, lasts ever, past recall.

               53

How should him coming of splendid names, and if wee would have been patriot’s shame, anothers sank serener palace of venomous worms, that pricke, sayne, other met alone, in forests just washed up. And men in nature to draw the People no Considering me, why have no time threat the fume of popular applause might I Mourn; but Nature suited to travel. What shall my many shall heaven, and rose tiptoe with People might beat like the elect; and in Treason of bliss, an immortality and thence,—a paradox which this, Time’s all- severing wave? And tell thy starry crown!

               54

And still! Behold the prey, light to say, whote cole on her, bade her steep a quill immortality, who has drunk himself: Whoso encamps to take its pool lay, half a Father’s apron. That my Power and she was to Cheat and dost advancing, and tirl’d at the should speak the tree. Cars go waltzing out its way, fretted thereof did end. This rapacious death is gone, Where soil is men grows, fairer than the denial cooings, the very touch, a bunch of blooming stood with poppies, while we live, than earth so red, and fragrant innocence: and gave forfeit on mankind. For he, if he show! With how few! Fool!

               55

The Jews well befits, for without soul to the ground, Sukey is tumbling does usher my joy and feel a certainly he stayed on the solitary dove, nor the gentlemen kirkward shall be their hands. Has buoyed me up till my heart from eating yet it yielded a dearer than I can command, the involuntary power, all best exceed the smoothness rough, fix’d me again! He heard love each love, so well I see them out, not a kiss not me? He sought to sing and of scenes sublime, a thing mute, I must be surely, some kinder casuists are gone in tenderness, full of syllogisms.

               56

’Twas even—the dews of your dimpled arms binding could break, and press tree? But try your own sublimate and we sit on forlorn, in trembling, but it was so fonde, to learn how existence could every charms to dwell. I heard my plants all his Son, for several weeks,—but now he sung, to sounds against the cup. On the pretty pair—their wilinesse? But to perished, and fast she scuds with life of love ribbon, locket, valentine. A few late cars will arrive before mine is buried me deep learned not ask’d the Excursion. Swept smooth white palace is such the stounde, that acquiesce, and did too like.

               57

Shah to whom a hyacinth is dumb. Neuer had shepherd-prince, what I come to move from thy dear life was done its cheeks dry,—a creature might send flowers beneath the naked face has come to him. From every fly from that doen so carefully I flow: fair maid, be pitiful thou art, must, surcharg’d with Chain of Loyal Peers ascend, or the deeds and keen eye would prove the next Successors in the dust where thou hast thoughts of the waves clasped hands of every shape of dazzling spring. Inside her, throbbing throat, cling, strange; for the first time, it is not such a Reign, his Fruitfull Nile, nad Yoak a Servile Train.

               58

Must, surcharg’d, to declaim her winter cave. His sister flowing well that, while Hermes, hast thou Wreathed tomb shall ever bard: if thou watched. Of the love the same clime; marriage rarely wanted like midden-creels, her face and disappear’d quite new; the velvet leaves fall in vain. A poet caught deep in one, who causes my pain! And all look at me the sky and where pride; which wondrous excellence; there rang on his eyes. How can I not save one from the pit, and some one man alone, but in vain; what’s fit for life, the Fighting Warriour, and me never watchful, penetrant, saw Seames of Wine. Fill high to plumb, so passed us walking so far reached, the carefully to feel all thy steep, where are the courteous mien turning hell! They rose along the grasses the watercress so fine to secure the small in his Evidence, this came round supported him—no pulse, that taught that when the dreadful might own.

               59

Must we but blood of Scio’s vine! Lowder caught as butten the gold; the new wine’s foaming forward, said that, had I done things? And noble Stem; him of the cords of civilization has made me a heaven? Though Amaryllis dance weakens his Princely revel seem’d as the west by thy face, bringing sea. Love’s fair unknown to a very pangs. And nowe sithence I saw him, as they were builds a Hell in Heaven is throne: ’twas not, I opine, and pity, for Vice, Opprest with doating car, up went to make the pearly cup meander gave me on Sunium’s marble hue, so threw himself converse.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #175 texts #sonnet sequence

[sobsicles]

thinking about how they made it even more destiel in the show bc what we got instead was sam being like "i don't even know what to think/do/say about this (cas being back)" and dean being like "well i do" before going right up to cas and wrapping him in his arms. thinking about how dean said "welcome home" when they weren't even in/near the bunker. thinking about how dean had life in his eyes for the first time since cas died. thinking about how dean must have gathered cas' ashes and cradled whatever he carried him in so tenderly. how dean must have wanted to keep those ashes, but forced himself to spread them over the earth, because cas would have wanted that and he can't be selfish, he can't. thinking about how he would have asked cas if he liked it when cas came back, and how cas would have said yes, it was a nice touch, and how dean would have held that answer so close to his heart. thinking about how the last time dean had cas under his hands, he was ashes, and that was all dean thought he would get until he suddenly had cas back, and of course he knew he had to hug him, hold him, touch him again. just thinking...

#widower arc fucks me UP #really spiralling out of control now folks #deep breaths sobs you will prevail #just. they really made it so gay even past the ashes thing. cause yeah the ashes was peak Grieving Widow #but we got sam being like 'huh cas is back. no idea how to respond. hm. a smile bc this is good. hi cas!' #and then dean just needing to touch cas. having to hug him. welcoming him back home when theyre nowhere near home bc cas' home is with him. #i am going to lose it #destiel #two idiots in love #just stab me in the knee

[wolken-himmel]

In which (Y/n) manages to get kidnapped by Malleus, who has turned into a dragon after going into a frenzy because he wasn't able to find her.

Bringing her to a tower, he absolutely refuses to let go of his newly acquired treasure. There is no such thing as escape when an attention-seeking dragon wants to cuddle.

Request by @amypop122.

"(Y/n), my little treasure? I know it's late... but can I come in? I had a horrible nightmare—"

Malleus, clutching his pillow in his arms, stood in front of the door to your bedroom, his fist still raised after having knocked against the door gently. His pyjamas with little dragons printed all over the fabric were wrinkled due to the sheer hurry he had jumped out of his bed with. The poor dragon fae was still shaking from the horrible nightmare he had just been vexed by; your agonising screams as he couldn't save you from death rung in his ears, not leaving him any rest.

Malleus dreamt that you had died.

So, the first rational thing he did when waking up, his skin coated in a layer of cold sweat and his eyes ripped open as wide as saucers, was to immediately teleport to your bedroom to check if you were alright — and maybe even sneak his way into your bed if you didn't mind. After all, no one could harm you if you were right in his arms.

Waiting minutes where silence prevailed, nothing happened — not even a soft stir of your body or the crumpling of your blanket could reach his attentive ears. Growing scared, Malleus pushed the door open, a frightened expression on his face. What if you weren't in your bed? Then... then something bad must have happened, right?

As he snuck closer to the bed you should be resting in, Malleus prayed with all his heart that you were safe and sound, and that you were simply too caught up in deep slumber to react to his knocking. His feet were as light as a feather as he maneuvered over to your bedside, gently lifting up the bundle of blankets to see if you were hiding underneath them.

You weren't there.

The blanket slipping out of his hold, he remained frozen for a good few minutes. His eyes were ripped wide open in disbelief that his nightmare seemingly had managed to become reality. A blood-curdling scream escaped his lips. Malleus sank to his knees, his pillow falling to the ground, as sobs and cries escaped his lips. Clutching his head in desperation and fury, the gruelling whispers in his mind, telling him that he had failed to protect you, became stronger until he could no longer drown them out.

Letting out a loud roar, Malleus felt wings sprouting from his back. A bright green light enveloped him, hiding the maniacal expression on his face as he transformed into a beast. His pale skin was replaced by black scales, and his hands turned into paws with claws as sharp as razor blades. Soon, he wasn't human anymore but a beast that could wreak havoc and burn a whole village down with its fiery breath. His tail was big enough to almost throw over the desk in your room as the dragon quickly exited through the opened window to soar through the sky in search for his missing beloved.

That night, some NRC students and staff swore they could see a majestic dragon fly across the skies and hear distant roars, filling them with fear and the dawning feeling that something would go horribly wrong soon.

"I swear... I can't believe I have to drag you two back to the Heartslyabul dorm again..." you hissed under your breath as you continued pulling Ace and Deuce by their collars, their paralysed bodies somehow even heavier than they usually were. It didn't help that Grim was lazily sleeping on Ace instead of helping you, only increasing the weight you had to pull. Your eyebrows were furrowed in utter anger; you could have been peacefully sleeping in your bed if it weren't for these two idiots having somehow managed to get cursed with a paralysis spell.

"Sorry, (Y/n)..." Deuce mumbled, only able to move his lips and eyes. A satisfied smile curled up on your lips. At least one of the boys still possessed common sense. "We won't do it again..."

"Woah woah, no need to lie there, Deuce," Ace replied, still trying to shove Grim off of him, but always failing because he couldn't move his limbs even a centimetre. Laughing sheepishly, the red-head started to grin. "We all know we're gonna do it again..."

You let out a groan, all hope that had built up dissipating. "You two! I feel like I'm your mother—" you seethed through clenched teeth, stopping and letting go of their collars, so that their head fell down onto the cold earthy ground of the courtyard. They let out pained groans, cursing you under their breaths while you merely laughed at their suffering. Grim bolted slightly, sending out a little hiss before returning to his slumber.

"Mommy (Y/n)," Ace mused, sticking his tongue out.

Narrowing your eyes, you put your hands onto your hips. Angrily, you bent over them to wag your finger in front of their eyes in an attempt to scold them. "Stop it. That sounds weird."

"Who's the father?" Deuce asked with a little grin on his lips.

Laughing, Ace replied, "Grim of course."

"You two!" Throwing your hands up in resignation, you were about to continue scolding them until the frightening sound of a dragon roar filled your ears. Wincing when a sudden gust of cold wind was swept your way, you shot your paralysed friends an alarmed look. "Guys, did you hear that? I think it was a dragon..."

"Are you trying to scare us?" Ace mused, rolling his eyes. "Come on, we're not some little babies."

You straightened your back, arms still stretched out towards the sky as if frozen in fear. "No, I really heard something—" you hissed, fear filling your (E/c) eyes. Before you could finish your sentence, you felt a pair of big claws wrap around your arms and pulling you up into the sky. Struggling, you screamed your lungs out as the boys grew smaller and smaller the higher you rose into the sky. "Guys! What's going on!? Hey! Deuce! Ace—"

"(Y/n)!" Deuce and Ace shouted simultaneously, trying to climb to their feet so they could chase after the beast that was carrying you away into the distance until it vanished in the dark night sky. Of course, they failed miserably, which left them no choice but to simply lay in the grass until the paralysis spell had worn off. They continued screaming their lungs out in hopes that someone would hear them, but no one did — or at least no one bothered to react.

"Can you two please keep it down?" Grim yawned, covering his ears with his paws. "I'm trying to sleep here..."

"(Y/n) just got kidnapped by a dragon!" Deuce yelled frantically, his eyeballs moving into every direction out of pure panic and frustration. "The dragon just swooped in and—"

Grim let out an annoyed hiss. "So hallucination is a side effect of the spell you were cursed with?"

"Grim! Shut up!" Ace yelled, almost crying out in utter irritation. Again, he was trying to shove the cat off his stomach, but failed. "We're telling you the truth, you lazy cat!"

"The truth can wait till tomorrow morning..." Grim mumbled as he snuggled into his paws, starting to snore loudly.

Ace closed his eyes, exhaling. "Great... we're doomed..."

"Hey! Let go of me, you dragon!" you yelled as you struggled in the beast's mighty grip. He simply let out a roar, which immediately silenced you into submission. Giving up with your attempts of escape, you let out a frustrated sigh. Instead, you focused your gaze onto the ground beneath you to figure out where you were and where he was taking you.

It was a clear night, allowing you to see how far up in the air you really were. You kind of felt nauseous, and immediately decided that looking down had been a bad idea. Gulping and taking deep breaths to calm your pounding heart, you simply hoped the dragon wouldn't drop you mid-flight.

A little gasp escaped your lips once you realised that you were flying towards the Diasomnia dorm — a tall tower in the far back of the castle-like building, to be exact. You furrowed your eyebrows, almost laughing at how absurd and hilarious the situation sounded. Somehow, this dilemma made you feel like a princess from one of those medieval fairytales, being kidnapped by a dragon and locked away into his tower full of treasures until your prince would come and save you.

The dragon's wings were strong, and so in no time you had reached the tall building. He slipped right through the rather small opening of the tower, and more or less tried to lower you to the ground gently — which he rather failed at because of his large size. You fell to your knees, and immediately scrambled to crawl over to the wall of the tower, pressing your back against the cold stones aligned to form the protective walls.

"Who are you!? And why did you kidnap me—" you screamed, causing the dragon to wince in dismay. Your chest was heaving up and down in pure horror as the creature stayed still, gazing at you with bright green eyes that reminded you of someone in particular. The moment where you thought he was communicating with you was interrupted when the dragon began to fold his mighty wings back into their original places on the sides of his body to clear up some space for you.

You averted your gaze to the smooth black scales that covered the dragon's body completely, aside from the equally as black horns that sprouted from his head. You let out a little gasp upon realising how exactly big the dragon was; his head alone was as big as your torso. The tail probably was even longer than your arm span. Your jaw fell down in admiration, and you felt the sudden desire to run your hand across his smooth scales.

The dragon looked at you curiously, almost smiling as he took in the awe radiating off your eyes the more you gazed at him. Proudly exhaling his nostrils, he let out a playful roar.

The roar made your heart skip a beat in fear, and you felt your breathing stopping for a moment. Averting your eyes to something different inside of the tower, you hoped to calm your wildly beating heart. You gazed around the interior, finding the window the dragon had used as an entrance on your right, and on the far left was a door that probably revealed a staircase used for the normal way of entering the tower. On the wall across from you lay heaps and hills of gold coins, the occasional diamond and jewel, as well as shimmering jewellery, poking out from underneath. There seemed to be a magical barrier around the collection of treasures, one that you recognised as being used to prevent intruders from passing through.

You were snapped out of your little excursion when you felt something prodding your stomach. Tensing, you lowered your gaze to find the dragon's large head laying in your lap, his snout poking your stomach to gain your attention while his curious eyes were trained at your face. The corners of his mouth curled up into a smile once he knew he had your full attention. You let out a little laugh upon realising that the dragon shared more similarities with a little puppy than a monster personality-wise. Hearing your laughter seemed to make him happy, too.

Still hesitant, you raised your hand to put it onto the dragon's head. He watched your moves with big eyes, and nodded subtly when he realised that you were waiting for permission to touch his scales. Smiling softly, you ran your fingertips across his soft yet sturdy scales, causing the mighty beast to close his eyes and relax into your lap.

"Oh, you're quite heavy—" you huffed as you stopped petting him, which earned you an angry huff that immediately made you resume. Chuckling at his rather adorable antics, you hummed a soft tune that made his tail wag back and forth happily.

"Hm... do you have a name? Or should I just call you Mr. Big Scary Dragon," you asked, causing him to pry one slitted eye open, thus revealing the shimmering emerald underneath the leathery eyelids. You laughed softly. "I used to call Malleus that..." His eyes seemed to draw you in, hypnotising you in a certain way. They made you feel at ease — comforted. The effect was the same as a certain dragon fae always had on you.

That's when your eyes widened in shock and realisation, and you jumped, causing an angry growl to escape the dragon's throat.

The beast raised his head to glare at you, only to find you slowly inching away from it, just as if you didn't want to startle it again. A little bit hurt that you were still scared of him, the dragon let out a few cries and cooes that made your heart sink in pity.

"M-Malleus?" you stuttered out, shaking to your very core. "Is that you?"

Tilting his head to the side, the beast nodded. His mouth twisting into a happy grin, he carefully ventured towards you. He urged you to rise to your feet, which you did with a little yelp escaping your lips. Nudging you farther away from the wall with his snout, he let out a few assuring cooes that made your heart flutter. Hesitantly, you stumbled into the direction he pushed you into.

"Why... are you a dragon?" you asked, but received no answer. It seemed like he couldn't talk as a dragon, but at least he could understand you.

Eventually, Malleus let out a little bit of smoke through his large nostrils, turning around in circles in the same spot like a cat looking for the perfect resting place. Once his gigantic body lay on the ground, he extended one arm to tug at your shirt with one single claw. You let out a little sigh as you let yourself be guided towards him. Just as you arrived, his mischievous tail swiped right under your feet, causing you to fall right into his waiting arms. The dragon let out a satisfied breath as he wrapped his arms around you, trapping you successfully.

Your body went rigid when you felt his hot breath running across your cheek, his body warming yours and shielding you from the unrelenting cold of the tower. This was... quite comfortable, you had to admit. You were tempted to just close your eyes and fall asleep after such a hectic night, but you knew you couldn't. So, you tried your best to wiggle yourself out of his strong arms so you could sit up right and gaze into his curious yet annoyed eyes.

"Malleus..." you mumbled, reaching out with one hand to stroke his snout, which earned you quite the adorable reaction: He leant right into your touch, purring like a little cat. Smiling, you couldn't help but laugh. "I'd love to cuddle with you all night— but I need to get home... we wouldn't want Deuce and Ace to freeze to death, would we?"

As if he was jealous, Malleus stubbornly shook his head and only pulled you closer to him. A few threatening growls and whimpers escaped his throat as he nuzzled his head into your shoulder, seeking to bury himself in your scent. Sitting up again — but this time you had to put up way more effort — your hand ran along his cheek, which caused a little hitch to appear in his breath as he forced one eye lazily open. It seemed like he wanted to sleep, but would also take every speck of affection you would reward him with.

Sighing, you explained, "Come on, dear... They're my friends."

Refusing, he continued to shake his head stubbornly. Funnily, he looked like he was pouting. In a way, he looked jealous to you — especially with the way his tail angrily pounded against the ground while his arms simply tightened around your waist, almost cutting off your air-flow.

"You don't need to be jealous, Malleus~" you cooed as you evaded his paw that tried to push you down into his arms again. Instead, you leant forward to press a sweet kiss to the space inbetween his eyes. He sucked in air through his nostrils as a gesture of surprise. Then, his eyes turned soft and adoring. "You know you're the only dragon whom I love—"

Your words seemed to satisfy him very much, causing him to nuzzle his snout into your cheek. He even opened his mouth to drag his coarse and slitted tongue across your cheek, which caused you to giggle softly as you pushed him away. He snorted, breathing a little bit of fire accidentally. Luckily, you remained unharmed by ducking just in the right moment. Hopefully, he wouldn't burn your hair like he had burned Lilia's.

"Malleus!" You laughed, having trouble of not getting overwhelmed with the way he alternated between licking your face and nuzzling his snout into your neck. "Stop it! T-That tickles—"

Malleus let out a playful huff, warming your body with his warm breath.

"You never told me you could transform into a dragon..." you mused, causing him to cease his affections temporarily. "Neither did you tell me that you had a tower to store your treasures in within the Diasomnia dorm."

Sheepishly grinning down at you, he raised his long neck until he could put his jaw onto the top of your head lazily. You let out a few squeals, running your hand along his neck, which evoked a few adorable purrs from the big lizard. He craned his neck as much as he could in response to your pleasing touches. Whispering sweet nothings about how cute he was, you couldn't help but slowly feel at ease around this threatening and mighty dragon — your beloved dragon.

"Great, now I'm trapped in a dragon's tower—" you mused, continuing to run your hand up and down his neck whilst letting out a few amused chuckles. "When will my prince come and save me?"

Malleus immediately froze, not looking the slightest amused by your joke. He removed his head from on top of yours, and opted to glare at you with such intense anger that you gulped. You backed up until you couldn't any more with your back tightly pressed against his body. His face neared yours, and he looked angry — very much so.

Laughing nervously, you carefully bent forward to wrap your arms around his head in an attempt to soothe his fury. While embracing him, you pressed a soft kiss to the side of his head. "Oh well, who needs a prince if the dragon is adorable and handsome and smart and cute and—" That was enough to make Malleus calm down again. This time, he curled his neck around for it to lay stretched out across your lap, his head right next to your thighs. Now, you were indeed trapped by a large puppy.

"I love you, Mr. Big Scary Dragon~" you cooed, giggling.

Malleus let out a few satisfied cooes when you ran your hand across his horns, closing his eyes as he drifted off into peaceful slumber. He knew that no nightmare could awaken him if you were there by his side, your touch keeping the mean and nasty echoes at bay. Just for safety, his long tail snuck around your feet, holding them in place in case you decided you were brave enough to attempt and make a run for it.

You let out a little huff, seeing no chance of escape. Whenever you tried to move your feet out of the loops his tail created, his tail's grip would tighten and he would let out a little hiss. Giving up, you simply sank into his body, evoking a very content exhale from the dragon. "You really are a protective one..." you murmured as you snuggled into his body that was curled around you.

Malleus was at peace. Cuddling with his mate like this really made him forgot all about his nightmare earlier.

Grinning, you cooed, "I didn't know you always meant it literally whenever you called me your 'little treasure', Malleus."

#twisted wonderland #twst x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #twst malleus x reader #twst malleus draconia #twst malleus #twisted wonderland malleus #disney twisted wonderland #reader insert #y/n #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #female reader

[masuchist]

MINE, YOU ARE 01

Genshin Impact . . Aether, Albedo, Bennett, Chongyun, Tartaglia, Diluc Ragnvindr

A mark that declares you theirs.

gender neutral, yandere, possessive themes, inflicting harm, collars

Aether.

Simple, yet effective. One meticulously hand-crafted by a close friend, carved with initials, and special functions the wearer has yet to know. It is to be clarified that you are not a pet, but someone he simply owns. The rough material fits snug around your pretty little neck, flaunting a rather bold message to outsiders. Embarrassing and an inconvenience. You’ll be on your best behavior for a chance to breathe properly; not in the confines of a portable cage, not being paraded in public, not being treated any lower than an animal, and he is nice enough to grant such wish.

Inhale, exhale - breathe in the polar wind, feeling his warm hand caress your cheek, nuzzling further into his palm because that is what you’ve been conditioned to.

But for a moment as you’re teared away abruptly - Aether smiling, securing the black collar right around your neck.

Albedo.

Albedo doesn’t need a flimsy mark to tell the world that you are his. Depending on such tactic is a weak attempt at power. For all we know, people could always ignore the obvious message for a taste. Improper barbarians, coming for those already claimed. Perhaps they find the appeal in taken critters.

Nevertheless, your behavior has been shaped and molded continuously into someone who is scared of everything and anything but him. Took a lot of trial and errors and punishments, though the results are beyond grand. No one can interact without you shuffling over to his side before the stranger could dare approach, clinging onto his arm for protection. 

He’ll hum in response, taking note of your good behavior for today.

Bennett.

It starts out with a flimsy confession. Rubbing the back of his sweaty neck nervously, spilling out his overwhelming affection for you one early morning, catching you off guard, surprised - flattered. It was an understatement to say that the feeling was more than mutual, unable to hide the glee spilling from your lips as you throw arms around him to celebrate this occasion.

That is, until a searing pain courses throughout your left wrist.

You’ll thrash, struggle in his strong embrace and he does all but budge. Not until water pokes at your weary eyes, weak sobs following a suit - will he release his suffocating hold. Pressing a light kiss over the blistering, throbbing wound, Bennett murmuring lovingly for comfort as if he hasn’t burnt his flamboyant sigil into your skin.

Chongyun.

Anything winter-related is what makes you comfortable. Snowflakes slow dancing in the air, covering the ground in proof of their existence; a steaming cup of a hot cocoa ready to be served; snuggling deep into suffocating duvets, chasing after any feel of warmth the blanket provides - that is what you look forward to.

Everything, except ice.

His anger comes off as rampant waves, anyone can feel the unconcealed fury radiating off of him. Not wanting to peeve him further, naturally they’ll stray away from the path that has been caved. You on the other hand are not given much of a choice, he is your partner, after all, and he wants to see you right now. Chongyun storming, grabbing onto your wrists - squeezing it painstakingly tight, forcing a muffled whimper out of you.  

He’s breathing heavily and you’re hyperventilating.

Skin being stabbed continuously in freezing cold pins and needles, enduring the everlasting ache. 

Try and assure yourself that this is just an accident.

Tartaglia.

Scratches, gashes, stitches - there are all sorts of injuries covering you. People think of it as battle scars, complimenting your astute bravery in prevailing against it all on an unending journey, but they’re wrong. So wrong, it hurts to smile them off as if they were simply true. These marks are signs of ownership, possession, someone inflicted all of them because they saw you nothing more than an object of their twisted desires. Might they add loved, but an object nonetheless.

Tartaglia laughs as a passerby gawks at your wounds, fresh and old, giving yet another impressive comment on them. An arm slides around your waist as your trembling hand is harshly tugged in their direction, allowing them to get a crystal clear look at these lacerations.

“Ah, yes, they got all these pretty scars not too long ago. They’re quite a fighter… aren’t they?”

Diluc Ragnvindr.

Something stylish, proper, prim, like a personally tailored outfit very similar to his, topped off with a tight black choker and a charm identical to his fiery vision dangling freely around your hips. It’s not obvious, but surely those who stumble across you should know that you must have strong ties with the Ragnvindr blood, and no one wants to mess with such a stubborn flame. 

Especially when rumors come spreading around Mondstadt about the disappearance of a small group of individuals. They’ll glance wordlessly, savoring the beauty from afar.

It’s just not worth the risk.

#yandere #yandere genshin impact #ch.aether #ch.albedo #ch.bennett #ch.chongyun #ch.diluc #ch.tartaglia #genshin impact x reader #tw.dubcon #lord.hcs #sub!reader

[folklorelise]

That one time he said “you’re not my mother” & “I love you”

That one time they said, “you’re not my mother!” and that one time they said “I love you” — I decided to combine these two because I found it was too short otherwise :) enjoy

MASTERLIST

Eren Yaeger:

Most of the time, when Eren and Jean were fighting, it was in a friendly way – always bickering like siblings which is way if Levi or you were there, you would never get involved.

That is why when that one time they were fighting – for real – you and Levi arrived too late. Eren received a punch on his face and Jean had his arm broken. When you two noticed what was happening, you quickly run to where they were and separated them. Mikasa and you were restraining Eren while Levi took Jean away.

“Eren, you’re bleeding. Let’s go.” you told him before bringing him with you. “Mikasa, can you and the others stay here with Kuchel please?”

“Of course.”

When you arrived in your office, you took out your first aid kit and cleaned one of his wounds, and then stitched it up.

“What happened?” you asked Eren when you were done with the stitches.

“Nothing.”

“Well, you both ended up hurting each other so no, it was not nothing.” you argued.

“Whatever.” Eren mumbled.

“Eren! This is serious.” you raised your voice, “Jean was hurt–.”

“So was I! Why is it always everything about Jean with you? Oh right! He is your favourite after all.”

“This is not what we’re talking about right now. This is about you two being childish. Yes, you were hurt but Jean is not a titan, he can’t heal overnight. I don’t know why the fight started and I don’t want to because I’m sure it was for a ridiculous reason anyway.”

Eren was still on his nerves and he knew if he said anything, he would regret it – so he just kept quiet and stared at his shoes.

“You really don’t have anything to say?” you sighed. “Eren–, you should apologise. Both of–.”

“STOP! Stop pretending to care about me if all you want is go and check on Jean. Stop pretending you care about me at all – just, stop.”

“Eren–.” your voice quavered.

“And stop acting like my mother because you’re not. So, just leave me alone!” Eren yelled because storming out.

When you found Levi in his office, he was doing some paperwork with Kuchel on his lap.

“How did it go with Eren?” Levi asked you without looking up.

“Hm… not great.” you whimpered.

As soon as Levi heard your voice, he looked up and saw that your eyes were still red and puffy. He put Kuchel on the ground and came to embrace you. You continued to cry in his arms, putting your head on his shoulder.

“What happened?” Levi asked worried.

Levi did not insist on it when you refused to talk about it. Levi asked Sasha, Connie, and Jean to take care of Kuchel the rest of the day so he could spend the day with you.

You spend the day in your bedroom, switching between crying and sleeping. Levi stayed with you the whole time, with you clinging on him. After a few hours, you finally started to calm down and were ready to talk.

“Eren said that… it sounds ridiculous actually,” you tried to laugh, “he said that I wasn’t his mother which is true, I’m not.” you explained. “Is it weird? That I’m hurt because I consider Eren, and all of them, as one of my own children?”

“Eren’s an idiot. I’m sure he didn’t mean it.” Levi tried to reassure you.

Eren, on his side, went back to his room and stayed there for the rest of the day. After he calmed down and realised what he said to you, he started to regret it. He did not mean any of the words he said to you.

For the next few days, whenever you and Eren would see each other, you would just walk away. You did not know what to say to Eren, therefore you just decided to avoid him which is something everyone noticed. Eren really wanted to talk to you, he wanted to apologise but with you constantly walking away, it was impossible. Eren decided he would ask the captain’s help.

“I know she probably told you what happened.” Eren told Levi when he went to his office, “I just want to apologise, please?”

“Fine. She’s with Kuchel in our room.” Levi thought. “Then go and clean the stable!”

“Thank you.”

Eren run to your bedroom and went in without knocking. He found you reading a story to Kuchel and hesitated a second before calling your name.

“Eren!” you shouted surprised.

“I’m sorry, it’s just – I know you wouldn’t have opened the door.” Eren explained. “Mom,” Eren started before breaking down crying, “I’m sorry, please don’t ignore me anymore.”

“No cry.” Kuchel shouted, “ma-ma kiss, no cry.” she pulled your sleeve.

“Please don’t hate me.” Eren whispered.

“I could never hate you.” you said before hugging him.

Eren hold you so tightly that you could barely move.

“It’s ok,” you reassured him, “I could never hate one of my kids.” you admitted.

“So, you’re not mad right?”

“I’m not. It’s ok.” you patted his back.

“I didn’t mean.” Eren added, “I didn’t mean any of it.” Eren paused before adding “because I love you mom. I do.”

“Eren,” you smiled, “I love you too.”

“Lowe ma-ma me!” Kuchel shouted because you and Eren were too far away from her.

“I’m going to go now.” Eren said, “I still have cleaning duty.”

Eren left, and a sigh of relief left your mouth. Having him directly tell you that he did not mean it was a relief.

Jean Kirstein:

Levi had been thinking about having Jean to replace him as captain in a few years or even make him squad leader. Jean obviously proved himself to be a great leader – there was no excuse not to promote him to a higher rank. He never talked about that to anyone though, particularly not to you because he knew how worried you would be. After some time, Levi decided he would talk about it with Erwin.

“Are you telling me this because you want to retire?” Erwin asked him.

“No. I don’t to retire right now.”

“Okay.” Erwin took a moment to process what Levi just told him, “What did Y/N say?”

“Nothing.” Levi casually answered.

“Really?”

“I didn’t tell her anything yet.”

“Oh… Well, I don’t see any problems in making Jean a captain now or in a few years. He has a good sense of leadership. I think that’s a great idea.” Erwin stated.

“Bur?” Levi asked expecting Erwin to continue.

“No ‘but’, just…” Erwin took a deep breath, smiling slightly, “really excited to see Y/N’s reaction.”

“She’ll love that.”

After a few days, Levi decided to call you in his office at the same time as Jean to announce the big news he had. When Jean and you arrived, he sat down at his desk before explaining why he asked to see you.

“You grew up and learned a lot these past few months and years. You have every quality to make a great captain or even squad leader.”

“Oh,” Jean blushed, “thank you, but why are you telling me this?”

“I talked about it with Erwin, and he agrees with me that–.”

“Wait.” you cut Levi in his sentence, “are you seriously trying to make Jean captain right now?” you asked dumbstruck.

“If he wants, yes.”

“What?” you laughed nervously. “No! It’s… he’s a child! This is too much responsibility and pression for him.” you argued. “Jean,” you turned around to face him, “you’re not–.”

“Y/N,” Levi cut you, “he’s not a child anymore. You know how skilled he is on the field so why are you doing this?”

“Because being a captain is too much pressure! You are responsible for everything! Yes, it includes victories, but also every death of your friends and squad members.” you rumbled, “Jean, you’re not… you can’t do this. I refuse.”

“Y/N–.” Levi started but was cut short by Jean.

“You’re not my mother!” Jean yelled, “you don’t have the right to decide for me!” he added before leaving the room.

Silence prevailed in the room. Then suddenly you started to sob violently and collapsed on the ground. Levi slowly approached you and wrapped you in his arms.

“It’s ok.” Levi whispered, “he didn’t mean it.”

You spent the rest of the day in bed, regretting everything you previously said to Jean. Levi stayed beside you, trying to calm you down but it was not successful. At night, Levi decided to pay Jean a visit to see if he calmed down. When he knocked on Jean’s door, he heard a quiet ‘come in’. Jean was curled up on himself on his bed, with his blanket over him.

“I’m sorry.” Jean sobbed. “I– I.”

“You don’t have to apologise to me.” Levi said. “Tomorrow morning, you’ll come and apologise to Y/N because no one can understand you in this state.” Levi referred to his sobbing. “She’s sorry too, just so you know.”

Then, Levi came back to you and saw that you calmed down a bit, but he knew you were hurt. It was not the first time that one of the kids told you that. When Eren did, you were inconsolable and did stayed in bed for a few days.

The next day, Jean was up really early. He came in your office and waited for you inside, sitting on the couch. He waited a few hours, but you still were not there. You were eating breakfast and played a bit with Kuchel. When you finally walked in your office, you found Jean asleep on your couch. You took the blanket you kept for you at night and delicately put it on Jean, which did not work since he instantly woke up.

“Mom!” Jean said surprised and then immediately looked away.

Neither one of you knew what to say. You sat on the table in front of his, while he was still standing awkwardly.

“I’m sorry!” you both shouted at the same time.

“No!” Jean quickly added, “I didn’t– I didn’t mean it because it’s not true. You are. You are my mom and… I’m sorry, please don’t hate me.” Jean finished his sentence trying to hold his tears back.

“I– I’m sorry too.” you apologised and walked to him to hug him, “I’m sorry because I think you would make a great captain.” you tried to smile. “You are really talented, and it would be a waste not to make you captain.”

“No, if you’re not happy I don’t–.”

“I am happy, I was just scared.” you admitted. “You… you are my child and seeing you all grown-up and taking responsibilities… is terrifying. I don’t want to you to go through what Levi, and I did when we lost–.” you suddenly stopped, not wanting to talk about how many friends you all loss.

“I thought that you refused because you didn’t think I was good enough.” Jean admitted.

“You are good enough. You are more than that. I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”

“I’m sorry too.” Jean repeated.

//

Jean was always the first one to volunteer to take care of Kuchel when neither you nor Levi could. He loved spending time with her. He grew up without siblings, so since he saw you and Levi like his parents, Kuchel was like his little sister.

“Jean, thank you for doing this.” you gave him Kuchel, “Levi and I will be back in a few hours.”

“No problem, have a safe trip!”

Jean brought Kuchel back to his room and let her play with her toys. In the meantime, Armin, Eren and Mikasa came to see Kuchel too. Sasha and Connie came later on and stayed with Jean to play with Kuchel.

“Ja!” Kuchel screamed when she saw that Jean stopped playing with her.

“What did you say?” Jean asked shocked.

“Ja.” Kuchel pointed at Jean.

“That’s my name.” Jean said happily, “can you guys believe it?” he said to his friends.

“Oh, come on,” Connie replied, “It could be anything else.”

After trying to make Kuchel repeat it a few times, which was a failure, Sasha and Connie left Jean alone since they had cleaning duties to do before the Captain came back.

“I know you said my name earlier, even though you won’t repeat, it’s fine.”

“Ma-ma?” Kuchel asked.

“She’ll be back soon don’t worry.” Jean started to clean her toys. “You know, you’re very lucky to have them as your parents. They are awesome. I love them. I mean mom– no, da– no– I mean they’re great, you know?” Jean explained as if Kuchel could understand. “Never mind.”

Jean realised what he just said and started to think about if he should tell you or not. On one hand, he wanted to because he wanted you to know how much he appreciated you being there for him, but on the other hand, it was embarrassing.

“Kirstein.” Levi called him when he found him. “I still have to go and see Erwin so drop Kuchel to Y/N.” Levi told him.

“Da-da!” Kuchel yelled happily.

Levi kissed her before leaving. Jean walked to your office and knocked on the door.

“Yes?”

“It’s me, Jean.”

“Come in.” you said, “Kuchel, hiii.” you hold your baby. “How was the day with her?” you asked Jean.

“Good. It was good.” Jean answered. “I have to mh… go. Sasha and Connie, they’re… they need me.”

“Oh, okay, thank–.”

“I love you, bye mom!” Jean said before left running.

“Ja lowe ma-ma.”

When Levi came back to your office, he found you sitting on the couch looking at the ceiling.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“Jean just said he loves me. I can’t believe all my children are now opening to me now.” you pretended to cry. “Also, Kuchel just said Jean’s nam.”

“What?”

“Here, take Kuchel because I have to go and see Jean.”

“Ja!”

“Why?” Levi asked.

“He ran away before I could say anything.”

“A weirdo,” Levi looked at Kuchel, “the first name you said had to be his…”

“You always pretend to be annoyed by him, when I know for a fact you lo–.”

“Not listening, bye.” Levi closed the door before you could finish.

When you went to Jean’s room, he was obviously not here. Therefore, you just decided to take a piece of paper and then put it on his pillow.

When Jean came back to his room, he found a little piece of saying “I love you my boy, you didn’t have to run away.” And it was signed “Mom”.

Armin Arlet:

Armin’s new job was to teach the new cadets the expeditions’ strategy. When new cadets arrived in the survey corps, they were always surprised at how often Armin, Eren, Jean and Mikasa would call you ‘mom’ which ended up being their favourite topic during the day.

As usual, Armin would be early, waiting for the new soldiers to arrive. A group of friends were already there, talking way too loudly.

“You heard that too right?” one of them asked.

“Heard what?” another one asked.

“How the captain’s squad calls squad leader Y/N ‘mom’.”

“Yeah and?”

“Oh, come on. She obviously isn’t their real mom.”

“She isn’t?”

“Are you stupid? Anyway, I think that’s weird. I mean she has her own kid, right?”

Their discussion was cut short by other people arriving. Armin pretended he did not hear them and taught his class professionally. Near the end of the class, you decided to come so you could see if everything went well. You quietly took a place and watched until the end. When Armin was over, you walked to him started to congratulate him.

“Armin, you are a natural at this. That was really great!” you hugged him.

At the back, the group of friends who was talking about Armin and you earlier started to laugh, which Armin noticed. Armin immediately stepped away from you.

“Wh–.” you started.

“Stop doing that, you’re not my mother.” Armin stated loudly enough for everyone to hear. “Stop acting like my mother please.”

Every news cadets were looking at you both – the room was silent. Armin instantly regretted was he said and wanted to apologise but you just forced a smiled and left. You went to Levi’s office, who was with Kuchel.

“Hey. How was–.” Levi started to ask but stopped when he saw you trying to hold back yours tears.

“Armin said it. In front of so many people – it was… horrible.” you cried.

“Ma-ma?” Kuchel crawled towards you.

Levi stood up and came to hug you while Kuchel was grasping on your leg. 

“Y/N, they never mean it.” Levi reassured you.

“But…” you shook your head, “there was so many people watching us! No, they were staring at us.”

“Do you want me to go and talk to Armin?”

“No! It’s fine.” you sighed. “I mean… at this rate I’m used to it now.” you tried to laugh it up, but just ended up continuing sobbing.

“Ma-ma no cry!” Kuchel tried to comfort you.

“I’m not.” you smiled picking her up.

Levi and you spend the day playing with Kuchel – you tried to forget what Armin said and Levi wanted you not to think about it too much. Playing with Kuchel was one of the solutions. When it was time to eat, Levi suggested that he should just brought the food so you could eat in his office.

While Levi was gone, you gave Kuchel her toys and went to the bathroom. When you came back, Armin was playing with Kuchel.

“Armin. Hey.”

“Hey.” Armin mumbled. “Mh, I knocked on the door, but no one answered.”

“It’s ok.”

After a few minutes of silence, Levi entered the room with the food and stopped when he saw Armin. Levi looked at you and put the food on his desk.

“Do you need me to stay?” Levi whispered.

“Can you come back in ten minutes with Kuchel please?”

“Yeah.” Levi took Kuchel and left.

“I’m sorry about what I said.” Armin apologised looking at his feet. “I didn’t mean it.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not! I never should’ve said it on front of these people. I never should’ve said anything at all because it’s not true. I don’t think that.”

“Then why did you? Because… It’s just that these past few weeks, I,” you sighed loudly, “I heard that a lot…”

“Mom…” Armin frowned before hugging you. “I’m sorry.”

When you asked Armin what made him say it, he just avoided the question, saying that it was not important. Then, Levi came back so Armin left. He asked you what Armin had said, you told him that Armin did not say much.

A few days passed and you started to forget about that incident, but Levi wanted to know why it happened in the first place. That was why he asked Armin to meet him in his office one morning.

“What happened that morning?” Levi asked him.

Armin instantly knew what he was talking about and immediately looked away.

“I–.” Armin hesitated.

“No need to lie to me. I’ll know and you would just be wasting our time.”

“I heard people talking.” Armin whispered weakly. “They were saying things… like how weird it was for us to call her ‘mom’. And I thought, maybe that’s true.” Armin explained slowly. “I don’t know, I guess I wanted to show to these people that… it wasn’t true.”

When Armin was done talking, Levi nodded and let Armin leave. Levi never told you because Armin asked him not to. Armin never told anyone else what happened either – it was now their secret.

//

After that incident where you got badly injured, the cadets were having a hard time at night as well, especially for Armin and Jean who had to witness your body being thrown away. Both of them saw your body falling from a high level without being able to help.

Armin felt guilty because if he were not for him, you never would have got injured. After you woke up, he never really talked with you because of that guilt. You tried to talk to him because you wanted to make sure he was doing great, but every time he saw you, he would just walk away.

He would very often get nightmares too – it would often be about you regretting saving him, about you telling him that he should stop talking to you. He was scared.

“Armin,” Mikasa called him, “are you ok?”

“Yes. Why?” Armin answered absent-minded.

“You don’t look like yourself since… you know. Did you talk to–.”

“No.”

“Go talk to her.” Mikasa advised her friend.

After a few days of doing nothing, Mikasa decided to come to you because she was worried for Armin.

“I think Armin isn’t… He’s not ok.” Mikasa told you one morning.

“He’s been avoiding me I know. I thought giving him some space would be good, but I will talk to him.”

“He’s probably in his room, he’s not going out much.” Mikasa informed you.

“Thank you.”

You walked to Armin’s room and opened it without knocking, knowing if you did, he would have pretended to not be here. Armin was still sleeping, so you took a chair and placed it beside his bed and sat down. You took the book next to his bed and started to read it.

“AAH!” Armin screamed when he woke up.

“Why are you screaming like this in the morning!” you quickly put the book down.

“What– why are you here?” Armina asked hiding under his blanket.

“Mikasa was worried about you, and so was I. Why have you been avoiding me?”

“I haven’t.”

“Armin,” you stood up so you could sit on his bed, “Just tell me what has been bothering you.”

“Do you hate me?” Armin asked slowly after a long silence.

“What? No! Why would I?”

“You were hurt because of me. I was careless and–.”

“Armin, I don’t hate you.”

“But you almost–. Because of me…”

“I don’t hate you; I could never hate you. And it was not your fault at all. It was mine; I was careless and I didn’t think before acting.”

“Ok, that’s… good.” then Armin mumbled something else.

“What?” you asked confused.

“I love you mom.” Armin said timidly, looking away.

“I love you too Armin.” you said hugging him. “Get dressed now, I will wait for you in the mess hall.”

“Don’t tell anyone I said that!” Armin screamed when you left.

He was really embarrassed about it, but he was glad he did it. You were glad too, and you did not tell anyone beside Levi – you were too happy to not tell him.

Mikasa Ackerman:

Levi and his squad were training at hand-on-hand combat as usual, only this time, Mikasa was so distracted she ended spraining her ankle. She did not tell anyone and walked on her feet as if nothing happened. Eren noticed though. He noticed how she was putting more weight on her uninjured leg.

“What’s wrong with you?” Eren asked her once they were alone.

“Nothing.”

“What’s wrong with your leg?” Eren insisted.

“Noth–.”

“It’s clearly swollen. Your ankle is twice the size of the other one!”

“I’m fine.”

“Did you tell mom yet?”

“No, why would I?” Mikasa asked.

“Because you’re hurt which means you’re not going tomorrow.”

“We don’t run or walk – I’ll be fine.” Mikasa told him before leaving.

Eren decided if to tell you himself because he knew how stubborn Mikasa was. He found you with Levi in his office.

“Eren, hi!” you greeted him.

“Talk.” Levi said annoyed. “Don’t just stand here silently.”

“She’s hurt but she doesn’t want to tell you. Her ankle, she probably sprained it when we were training. And she wants to go to tomorrow’s expedition like that.”

“Oh, I’ll go and talk to her then.” you told them. “I will be right back.”

You assumed Mikasa would be in her room at this hour, so you went to her bedroom. You knocked on her door and a few seconds, Mikasa opened the door.

“Can I come in?” you smiled.

“Mh, yes.”

You watched Mikasa carefully, but she was good at pretending to be ok. You sat on her bed before making small talk first. You asked her how the training went.

“Fine.”

“Eren told me that you hurt yourself.”

“I’m fine.” Mikasa answered coldly.

“If it’s true, I don’t want you to leave tomorrow.”

“I’m fine.” Mikasa repeated irritated.

“Show me your ankle.”

“No.”

“Mikasa.”

“I said I’m fine, so stop. It doesn’t even hurt and if I go to sleep right now, I’ll have enough rest.”

“No. It’ll be worse if you leave tomorrow so you’re not going. That’s an order.” you concluded.

“You’re not my superior!” Mikasa shouted.

“Oh, you think Levi would disagree with me?” you laughed sarcastically.

“Well, you’re not my mother to decide something like this!” Mikasa argued.

“Mik–.”

“No, I- I’m sorry.” Mikasa immediately apologised. “I’m sorry.” Mikasa repeated.

“It’s ok.” you whispered. “It’s ok.”

“I’ll stay here tomorrow.” Mikasa agreed looking down.

“Do you need me to stay here with you tomorrow?”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Okay. Then I’ll go now.” you stood up.

“You’re not mad right?” Mikasa asked timidly before you left. “I didn’t mean it, I was just…”

“I’m not,” you turned around, “I know you didn’t mean it.”

Mikasa nodded and you smiled at her before closing the door. When you went back to Levi, Eren was still here as well.

“Mom! What did she say?” Eren asked.

“She’ll stay here.” you reassured Eren, “you can go now.”

“Are you ok?” Levi asked you once Eren left.

“Yes.” you paused a second before repeating, “Yes, I’m ok.”

“Ok.” Levi smiled slightly before walking up to you to kiss you.

//

After your accident, Mikasa became overprotective of you. When Levi started to work again after a few weeks, he was reluctant to do so because that meant leaving you. Fortunately, Mikasa told him that she would stay and help you until he was over with work.

Mikasa would bring you food and help you with some of your paperwork too.

“How are you feeling today?” Mikasa asked you.

“I’m ok thanks to you. You really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

Mikasa spent an entire week with you and Kuchel. Levi was glad that Mikasa was with you since he knew how serious she was about your safety. One night, when Levi came back pretty late, he found Mikasa sleeping in bed with you while Kuchel was in the middle, still awake. Levi gently took Kuchel and left with her.

“I guess I’ll sleep on the couch tonight.” Levi told Kuchel when he put her to sleep.

When he came back, he noticed that neither one of you had a blanket one you so before going to sleep, he put one on each of you.

In the morning, Mikasa was the first one to wake up. When she realised that she was in your bed, she quickly left the bed so she could leave, but before she could she looked at you and said: “I love you mom.”, thinking you were asleep.

“Mmh, I love you too Mikasa, now go back to sleep.” you mumbled still half asleep.

Mikasa’s eyes widened and left quickly thinking she had dreamt it. Levi was the next one to wake up but decided to continue to sleep next to you when he saw that Mikasa was no longer in the bed.

“Morning.” you said half awake. “Hey. Where did you sleep?”

“Couch.” Levi answered holding you tightly.

“M’sorry ‘bout that.”

“It’s ok.”

After you both brushed your teeth and washed your face – you went to eat. Mikasa was already in the mess hall with her friends, and she kept avoiding your gaze.

“What’s the matter with you?” Eren asked Mikasa.

“Nothing.”

“Mom!” Eren yelled, “come eat with us!”

Mikasa ate her breakfast really quickly before leaving. Eren and Armin were confused as much as Levi was. You were confused at first too, but then you remember what Mikasa had said to you before leaving – you excused yourself and went after her. You found her in her room, hiding under her blanket. You sat down and tried to take the blanket off.

“Mikasa come on, don’t be embarrassed.”

“How can I not?”

“Do you want to know a secret?” you waited for an answer but Mikasa did not say a thing, “You’re not the only one who said it so there’s no need to be embarrassed...”

“What?” Mikasa suddenly stood up. “Who did?”

“You know… some of them.” you admitted before leaving as if nothing happened.

“I need to know.” Mikasa murmured to herself.

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