#yes you the youngling that is reading it

[luveline]

(𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞) 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

Steve hears you wrong, thinks he’s your boyfriend, and begins to act accordingly. You try your best to go along with it until you can’t anymore. 3k, fem. requested here ♡ 

cw shy(ish)!reader, misunderstandings, steve being a huge sweetheart, fluff, hurt/comfort, bonus fluff scene 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The arcade is loud and brisk this evening, doors thrown open to allow for the constant ebb and flow of younglings, the machine music turned up to account for so many voices. You’re lost in a sea of rainbow flashing lights and the ticklish smell of sugar. Without Steve’s hand behind your shoulder, you’re pretty sure you would’ve gotten lost and trampled half an hour ago. 

A candy necklace pinwheels past your heads like a torpedo, forcing you closer together, your shoulders tight with a flinch. 

“We can leave,” Steve says immediately. He’s weirdly thoughtful. Before he asked you out you had no idea he thought so much about other people, but he’s always thinking about other people. You could argue he thinks a little too much, like you. 

“I wanna see Max.” 

“She has to be here somewhere.” 

That theory proves less and less likely. Steve’s hand falls away from you, tugging through his hair in a marker of stress as you circle the Palace Arcade for the tenth time. “Maybe she quit?” you suggest. 

Steve’s eyebrows pinch together as he gives the arcade another sweep. Max’s rough patch freaked him out, as it freaked you out, because ‘rough patch’ is a kind way to describe it. She could’ve got a whole lot worse; she was suffering, capital S. It’s nice to see her returning to society, but not if she isn’t actually settling in. That’s the whole reason you’re here. 

Steve frowns at you worriedly. 

“Who died?” asks a new voice.

You breathe out a sigh of relief. “Max!” Steve cheers. 

“That’s me,” Max says, looking at you both sceptically. Her ginger hair is pulled into two tight braids either side of her face, her cheeks flushed red. Mascara paints her usually pale lashes a darker brown, and a rosy tinted chapstick shines on her lips. 

“Hey, the uniform looks good on you,” he says affectionately. “You look like a valued member of society.”

“A society in need of better labour laws. I’m pretty sure this is child abuse.” She rolls her eyes. 

“Is it awful?” you ask. 

“It’s fine. Better when your stupid friends aren’t here making themselves sick on candy like they’re nine years old,” she says pointedly to Steve. “Are you going to throw up too? You look–” she grimaces in place of insult. 

“Who’s throwing up?” you ask. 

“Dustin. He’s outside.” 

Steve sighs and gives your shoulder a kind squeeze. “I’ll be right back,” he says, squaring his expression. “Goddamn kids.” 

He sounds like an old man, you think to yourself with a small smile. Disgruntled, he still goes to make sure everyone’s alright. He’s nice, even when that nice is begrudging and tiresome and plain gross sometimes. 

“Why are you smiling at him like that?” Max asks.

You school your impression. “Like what?” 

“Like you like him.” 

You shake your head. “Tell me about work, Max. What’s it like here? Are they giving you your breaks?” 

She drags you over to the counter to sit in the seat waiting behind. She glares at any kid who approaches, but besides that she seems in good spirits. The job isn’t hard, it’s just a job. She’d much rather be at home reading, but wouldn’t everyone? “And I get this sweet uniform,” she says, pointing at the embroidered icon on her shirt pocket. “What’s with you and Steve?” 

“Nothing,” you say, though it’s something. You’re mortified to have been caught having feelings. 

“Looks like something. Are you dating?” 

“I mean, this is a date,” you say, almost whispering as heat floods your face. “But we’re not together.” 

“He was touching you a lot.” 

“Max, he’s really nice. He’s a really nice guy,” you say gently, “and we’re not together, but if he does ask me out eventually, maybe I’ll say yes.” You realise what you’re saying and attempt to backtrack —you do like Steve, but Max doesn’t need to know that. “It’s not like he’s my boyfriend,” you say strangely. 

“Ew,” Max says with a laugh. 

“Not ew,” you correct. You hadn’t meant it in a bad way, it’s— 

“Not ew,” Steve says from behind you, his arm a heavy weight across your shoulder. 

You look wide-eyed up at his face, surprised by his huge beaming smile, an intense loveliness about him as he gives you a half hug. 

“What’s ew about that?” he asks you softly. 

Oh, boy, you think. 

As it turns out, being Steve’s girlfriend is kind of nice, but you aren’t ready.

From that afternoon at the Palace Arcade onward, he treats you like you’re made of gold. And it’s great, he’s so kind, he brings you flowers and takes you out for breakfast, where he pays the tab without any flourishes and talks to you as casually as always. You almost hope he hasn’t got it wrong at all, and that his soft tone a few days ago had been down to a brief overwhelming fondness. You’d get that. You have your moments with him, you’re falling for him, and it’s only a matter of time before you’re desperately in love, you’re sure, but then the waitress asks if you need anything else and he says, “Just a water for my girl,” and you realise you’re not getting off easy. 

Dating is sort of like being good friends; you’d planned to spend the day together anyways. You enjoy his company. It’s clear he’s eager, optioning off the day’s agenda as you return to the car, the bottom of your face hidden in your bouquet. 

“We could go to the movies,” he says, opening the passenger door, his smile seemingly permanent as you climb inside. “No science fiction, I promise.” 

“I kind of like sci-fi.” Petals press fragrant to your top lip.

“Well, we don’t have to go to the Hawk. We could go into the city. I bet they’re playing any movie you wanna see.” He checks that your leg is properly inside the car before he closes the door, jogging around to the driver’s side and practically throwing himself inside. He’s giggling like a kid. “Shit, I’ll see anything you want to.” 

“Steve.” 

“Or we can go do nothing? Until dinner.” 

“Steve,” you say again, thinking you’ll tell him. Nothing good ever comes from dishonesty. 

“What?” he asks. 

His eyes are so brown. Billions of people with brown eyes and you swear you’ve never seen anything like it before, their centres like hot honey, the sweetheart shape to them when he smiles 

You sigh. His smile is contagious, even while your stomach hurts. “Nothing. Let’s go see a movie.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“What?” 

“What do you mean, what? You sounded weird.” 

“I sounded weird?” 

“No!” He winces. “I mean, yeah, you sounded weird for you, like you… I don’t know. Sorry.” 

You feel bad, then. His apology is earnest, his hand resting open on the console for you to take if you could manage the flustering heat of it. 

“I wanna go to the movies,” you say, ‘cos you really do. 

“Alright, good. It’s just, I think my last relationship, I– I didn’t pay enough attention, and I want to do that better this time around. So yeah. Sorry.” 

Oh, Steve, you think. How are you supposed to tell him now? You’re gonna have to pretend to be ready for a relationship with him until you really are, it seems. He doesn’t deserve to have his heart played with twice. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you say gently. “Let’s go watch a movie, okay? I want to go, with you, we’ll watch a shitty daytime flick and then get dinner after. It’ll be fun.” 

You aren’t lying to him about what you want. It’s clear to everybody, Steve and his friends and especially you, that you like him, that you want to be around him and make him laugh. Maybe being his girlfriend won’t even be that different to being his something. 

After all, what’s romantic about seeing a movie? 

“You good?” he asks, half an hour later, your agony prolonged. 

You’re at the back of the movies where the seats have the most leg room, more popcorn and candy than you could ever eat at your feet and a litre cup stuffed into the armrest between you. Steve is tucking his shirt back into his jeans, his head parting the light of the projector and leaving a silhouette in the previews. 

“Steve,” you advise, gesturing for him to lean down out of the way. 

He leans down, further and further, face to face with you with his hands on his hips. A flirtatious teasing makes its way onto his lips. “What?” he asks, amused. 

“You were in the way of the light.” 

“That what it was?”

“Seriously!” you whisper-shout, laughing despite yourself. 

“You’re so cute,” he whispers back. “Want to take your jacket off?” 

Your lips part at his good suggestion. You hold your arm out and start to peel from your jacket, but he takes your sleeve and helps you out of it before folding it and sitting in the seat next to you, your jacket on his thigh. “How’s that, babe?” he asks. 

“It’s good.” 

“Okay, perfect.” He beams at you. He’s always smiling when he’s with you, like you’re the best thing since sliced bread. Like he loves you. “Tell me if you need something, yeah? I know you’re kinda shy.” 

He settles back in his seat with your jacket still in his lap and no indication that he might want to move it. Your knees touch as he relaxes, your knuckles as he puts his arm on the rest between you, a picture of contentedness as the movie begins and the opening credits play. “That’s us,” he says without looking at you. 

Two people walk down the street holding hands as the title of the movie blazes in yellow font with thick red outlines. A Day In Paradise! 

You bite down on a slither of the inside of your lip until it stings. You try to fight it off but the longer you sit there, the more your eyes burn, thinking about Steve and what he deserves and how unfortunate this whole thing is, and yeah, you’re overwhelmed, too. You aren’t ready for so much sweetness all at once. You don’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve this. 

You force the tears away. The movie goes on and on, the lights low, the chatter of moviegoers and the occasional popcorn crush not nearly loud enough to cover the sound of Steve’s breathing. 

He pushes his hair out of his face. Somebody on screen makes a joke, his hand brushes against yours, and then takes it gently as he laughs. 

You pull your hand away and tip your head down, a frantic tear flicking from your lashes. 

“You okay?” he whispers. 

You try to answer. You whimper instead, a terrible, sorry sound stuck to your throat —you can’t hold it in anymore. It’s too much. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble tearily, looking up, a tear rolling fast down the bump of your cheek. 

Steve sits still in moderate horror. “Why are you crying?” he whispers.

The thing about Steve that people tend to forget is that, while he takes care of people the best that he can, he’s really young. He doesn’t always know what to do. He stares at you now like you’re a foreign object, hand tucked back into his abdomen. 

A tear drips onto your lip. It tastes salty. “Sorry,” you say. 

“Why?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“I really like you, Steve.” 

He stares at you. “…But?”

“But I–” His frown hurts your heart. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this, I never– never had someone like me like this, I don’t know why I’m crying.” You say that last part to yourself rather than him, scrubbing your cheeks with your hands roughly before hiding your face completely. “It’s not you.” 

“I thought…” And of course he did. 

“I know,” you say. “I’m sorry, Steve. I thought it wouldn’t matter but everything’s going so fast.” 

He touches your arm gently. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I thought you wanted this. You– you said I was your boyfriend, to Max? I thought you liked me.” 

“I do like you,” you insist, meeting his eyes. 

“Can I wipe your tears away? They’re everywhere,” he says. You struggle to read his expression, but there’s no resentment or anger there for you. He looks quite serious. 

“Yeah.” 

Steve bends in his seat to wipe your tears off of your face gently. They really are everywhere, on your cheeks, your top lip, your chin, even down the arc of your neck. “I don’t understand,” he says, going back to your cheek for a missed streak, “but you don’t have to be upset. Please. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do, I promise.” 

“Steve, when I was talking to Max, I said,” —you wince— “that it’s not like you’re my boyfriend. She was asking me about you, and I got all panicky because I like you, but I’m too weird about this stuff, I’m panicking now–”

“Don’t.” His hand lingers on your face, before a sorry flash of dejection passes over him, and he drops your face altogether. 

“I didn’t mean for this to happen. Please believe me.” 

“Of course I believe you.” He grimaces at you, and the heartbreak turns to something more manageable, like he’s brushing himself off. “I’m sorry. For getting the wrong idea.” 

“I like you,” you whisper. Your voice is nearly lost to the rustle of popcorn and drinks. 

“I like you too!” he says loudly. 

A few seats down, somebody turns, an angry whirl of hair and clicky nails. “Can you guys shut up?” 

You and Steve leave your mountain of snacks behind to stand in the theatre hallway, where the winter air is cool on your flushed skin, and the silence is stifling. You lean against a wood feature wall and try to calm down, because he’s the one who should be upset (or maybe he’s not that fussed about you). He stands a half foot away with his arms crossed, looking down at his shoes, though occasionally he glances at you for a split-second and looks away again. 

“You okay?” he asks tightly. 

“I’m sorry.”

He pokes his cheek with his tongue. “So you don’t want to be together?” 

You don’t know. He deserves the truth, even if you barely understand it yourself, and it stings to say. “I do, I like you, but I… I want to take things slowly.” 

He stands there without talking for a while. When he does talk again, he’s laughing, that achy awful sadness he’d worn a far off memory. “You’re this upset because you want us to take things slow?” 

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” 

“You haven’t,” he promises. “That would never hurt my feelings. I knew when I heard it that it was too good to be true.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I guess I gotta earn the title like everybody else does. Is that… cool?” 

You nod vehemently. 

Steve blows a relieved breath of air up his face, his hair ruffling off of his forehead. “I thought I was gonna lose you completely,” he says, smiling. “This is fine. I can work with slow. Slow’s my middle name.”

—♡—

The sun is a blistering heat today. “Can’t believe it’s only spring,” you murmur, eyes covered by the back of your arm. 

A weight sits down on the blanket beside you, the sound of dry grass crushed underfoot. He brings the fresh scent of lemon slices with him, the zest sticking to his hands.

“I think I might melt.” 

“I’d never let that happen,” Steve says, laying down beside you. 

“You can be my parasol.” 

“Your what?” 

“It’s a sun umbrella.” 

“Like this?” he asks, gently laying himself across your front, his face on the slip of your stomach that’s bare, his arms sneaking behind your thighs to hug them as you bring them up. 

You reach down to stroke his hair, taking your fingers through the silky lengths of it, fingernails scratching ever so slightly at his scalp. “Thanks,” you say.

He kisses your naked leg. “You’re welcome, honey.” 

If he’d done that at the beginning of your relationship, you’d have frozen up; not because he would’ve done it differently, not because he wasn't always your handsome sweetheart, but because being comfortable with someone this intimately takes time, and that’s okay. 

“Your face is digging into my hip,” you murmur. 

He shifts back, his ear above your belly button. “Is that better?” 

“That’s perfect.” 

“Are you falling asleep?” he asks softly. 

“No… I’m thinking.” 

“Nothing good ever comes of that.” 

“I have something I want to talk to you about.”

“I love talking to you,” he says. He sounds as though he might fall asleep himself, his tongue heavy in his mouth. 

You stroke his hair away from his face by touch alone. Long, warm minutes pass without conversation. You aren’t scared to tell him how you’re feeling. He’s proved to you over time that he’s someone you’ll always be able to trust, and that whatever you have to say will hold weight. 

“It’s a question.” 

He turns in your hold to face you. You raise your arm, greeted by the image of him sun-kissed and lazing, laid out across you without a care in the world. 

“Don’t tell me then,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Jesus, you’re terrifying.” 

“Would you wanna be my boyfriend?”

He narrows his eyes at you. A myriad of emotions pass between you both, until he’s smiling, and you know he’s sitting up for a kiss seconds before he actually does. He presses his lips to yours carefully. “Baby,” he says as he pulls away, voice as mild as his soft kiss, “I think we’ve passed that point.” 

“I realised I’d never asked you, is all.” 

His hair falls down into his eyes. You tuck it behind his ear. It’s pretty clear now you’re together, even after such a bumpy start. 

“Can I get it in writing this time?” he asks, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours, your eyes fluttering closed in tandem. 

“Give you anything you want if you kiss me,” you murmur. 

His laugh fans over your lips. He cups your cheek, your heart a hummingbird drilling at your ribs as Steve moves in to kiss you properly. Your lips part under the pressure, your head tilting a touch to one side to accommodate him as he searches down for you, melty hot pleasure and nerves that never seem to fade arising as his thumb moves up your cheek, a semi-circle of touch. It promises undulating care whenever you want it. 

You tip your head aside to catch your breath.

“Better late than never,” you joke. 

Steve talks into the soft skin beside your mouth. “You weren’t late, babe. I was early, and I didn’t mind waiting.” 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank u for reading!! pretty please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed cos it means so much to me and inspires me to write even more!!! but either way i hope u enjoyed❤️❤️❤️

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington drabble

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Part Four — Azriel x Reader

Summary: It’s Solstice! Reader decides she should probably be honest with Azriel about some stuff. Things don’t quite go to plan.

Oof. Okay. This could be uncomfortable reading for some. There are some hints and depictions of domestic abuse and also of alcoholism, so if that’s something that might trigger you, please, please do not read this. The last thing I want is for my writing to be harmful to anybody. Read with caution. Take care and put yourself first. Lots of love.

Also, please don’t hate me for this 😭we know I’m a hoe for angst and it wouldn’t be one of my fics if there wasn’t some sprinkled in there lmao.

Word Count: 5k.

Warnings: Depiction of abusive behaviour. Heavy drinking. Some violence.

On a brisk winter morning, when the sun hasn’t yet graced the sky, the last place you wish to be is at the Windhaven crèche, watching over a group of tired, grouchy younglings. Every second thought that passes through your mind is a longing one, lamenting on how desperately you wish to be back in your bed.

But alas, you owe your friend, Vegha, a favour, making you the sole minder of ten restless little girls, all annoyed that their brothers get to join their fathers for training, while they have to stay back and be…girls. A downfall, according to most Illyrian males.

You’re supposed to be watching over them for a couple of hours while Vegha runs an errand. And that time is going very, very slowly.

You’re in the middle of reading a storybook — and, yes, doing all the voices — when the door opens behind you. You feel a glimmer of hope that perhaps Vegha is back earlier than planned, but when you swivel on the child-sized chair you’ve perched yourself on, it’s Azriel who looms in the doorway.

And you…your heart does a silly little thing in your chest.

“Don’t let me interrupt.” He says. “I can wait.”

Your eyebrows flick up in amusement. “Come take a seat, then. It’s story time.”

His lips twitch, and he goes to reach for one of those infant chairs — which you’re not at all sure can handle all his muscle — but this sparks a flurry of complaints from the girls, who all insist that they want to sit with Azriel the most, and within seconds, he’s cross-legged on the floor with the children somehow managing to settle around him without bickering, and they’re all able to command his attention at once.

Happy mediums, and all that.

Your gaze lingers on him as he does all the right things; leaning his head down so he can appear less…huge, while listening with rapt attention to one of the girl’s chattering; steadying another one as they climb over him to get themselves seated; gently telling them all that they have to be quiet if they want to hear the rest of the story. That, of course, achieves immediate near silence.

And thus begins an entire performance of you continuing the tale, and the girls — and Azriel — responding in all the right places. They howl when they’re supposed to make the sound of a wolf, and roar when it’s a mountain cat, and you don’t miss that Azriel helps the tiniest of the girls to remember which animals make what sounds.

Most males in this gods-forsaken place are an intimidating presence to these children, frightening them into silence whenever they’re around, because girls are supposed to be seen and not heard. But Azriel is always gentle, always kind, and they adore him for it.

It’s a combination of all these things that force you to face a truth that’s been rapidly snowballing inside your mind and heart for the past four days — something has changed. Shifted. Has been shifting and changing for a while.

You laid awake for hours that night in the dormitory, listening to Azriel’s breathing as he slept deeply, happily sated from the pleasure you’d given him. Your mind had been too much of a war zone for you to drift off.

Nine years, you’ve called this male your closest friend. Ever since the very first day you’d met him, when a group of males had pushed you to the floor and kicked mud at you, and he’d jumped in and defended you for no other reason than that he’s good to the bone. Nine years, you’ve been by each other’s sides, and it’s been comfortable and familiar and just…right.

But now — now, you think you may have jeopardised that all by going along with Azriel’s request for help. Help with kissing. Touching. Experiencing.

You’ll always want to help him in any way that you can, of course. But you didn’t quite anticipate the predicament you now find yourself in. That you want all of those things and more, not just under the ruse of building your friend’s confidence. You want to explore more with him, feel more with him. You’ve been able to think about nothing else for days.

And it might make you a total wretch, but you want Kaeda to be a distant memory. The thought of Azriel taking what you’ve shown him, shared with him, and putting his all into somebody else…it sours your stomach. Makes you feel sick.

Makes your heart hurt.

And, well, you’re fucked, really.

It’s a kind of hurt that won’t go away on its own. It isn’t avoidable nor ignorable. And so your only option is to confront it, be honest about it. Whatever the outcome may be.

The story comes to an end, and the girls are calmed and sleepy enough that they look ready to curl up on the floor and doze off. Azriel peels himself away from the cluster of clingy children and stands up, strolling over to you.

“Well that was fun.” He comments quietly, taking the book from your hands. “Who knew I was so adept at doing animal impressions?”

“One of your many talents, I suppose.” You smile, drinking in the sight of him. He looks tired this morning. Tired, but beautiful. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

His expression sobers slightly, and he tells you, “We’re leaving this morning. For the training exercise.”

Immediately, your stomach churns. Being away from your friends sets you on edge. Windhaven is a lonely, lonely place to be without the love of Rhys, Cassian and Azriel to warm you. And not even Rhys’s mother is here to make it a little more bearable.

Az immediately recognises the bleakness that passes your face. He steps closer, his hand a gentle brush against yours. “I’ll be back for Solstice.” He reminds you yet again.

“I know.” You attempt to force an easy, breezing smile. “What’s the plan for Solstice, anyway?”

Normally, Rhysand’s mother would cook a meal in the cottage. You wouldn’t be able to attend, given that you’re always stuck at home with your father, but by the time he would pass out drunk, you’d sneak out and make it to the cottage just as the games were starting. Some of your happiest memories are of being curled up on one couch with Az, Rhys and his mother on the other, and Cassian stood in front of you, making a terrible attempt at playing charades.

But it’ll be different this year. With the High Lord keeping a tight leash on his pregnant mate in Velaris, there will be no meal, no charades. You, Azriel and Cassian would most certainly not be welcome at their intimate family celebration.

“Rhys will spend the day in Velaris.” Az tells you. “Cass and I will be getting drunk. There’s a celebration being held at the dormitories in the evening, so I suppose we’ll all end up there.”

You dip your chin. “I’ll come and find you there, then.”

His responding smile is a gentle one; one that says he sees right through you, right through to the panic that’s eating away at you, and he understands.

There’s no way he sees everything that you’re feeling, though. Perhaps that’s a good thing.

Your body goes slightly rigid as he dips down and presses a kiss to your forehead. His hand squeezes yours, and then he’s pulling away. “See you on Solstice.”

He bids a quiet goodbye to the dozing girls. It’s as he’s heading for the door that you find yourself stepping after him. “…Az?”

He turns, hand on the doorknob. “Yes?”

“There’s…something I need to talk to you about, when you get back. Something I need to tell you.”

Okay. Shit. You’re really doing this.

Azriel’s eyes rake over you, and then he smiles. “We’ll talk on Solstice.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Your head’s not all there today, as you stare out of the window of your father’s forge. Azriel and the others have been gone almost a week, and you’ve spent every one of those days thinking about how you’re going to tell him…whatever it is you’re going to tell him.

You’re not even certain, yourself.

Just that…that things are different. That you know, to begin with, that this was about him and Kaeda — but it’s shifted in your brain at an alarming rate, and now that you’ve shared something so…so meaningful, with him, you’re not sure you can go on acting as though it was all just a favour.

Yeah. That should do it.

And it’s a huge fucking risk, of course. There’s every chance he won’t return the sentiment, and then a giant wedge of unresolved feelings will exist between you.

But you need to — perhaps selfishly — confront this before things between him and Kaeda progress. In case there’s a slight chance that it’ll alter the path it’s heading down.

And you haven’t thought any further than that.

The snow has started again, and you watch the flurries sweep past the window and join the thick layer on the ground. You’ve become so accustomed to the noise of the forge that you hardly notice it anymore — not the constant clanking, nor the heat that the fires swathe the shop in. You used to beg your father to teach you his craft, to allow you to get stuck in and get your hands dirty, but he’s always stubbornly maintained that it’s a male’s job, and that he needs you for the bookkeeping. You’re surprised he trusts you with that.

You breathe a soft sigh, your thoughts once again flitting back to Az. To what he might be doing, thinking, feeling. Whether he misses you as much as you miss him.

But before those thoughts can take a hold of you and sink you deeper into your predicament, the door opens, the bell above it ringing and a gust of cold air momentarily biting you.

It’s rare for females to come to the forge. Very rare, indeed. Which is why, for a second or two, you just stare.

That — and because she’s incredibly beautiful.

Her eyes — the colour of emeralds — sweep the workshop, before landing on you, and she smiles. She has the telltale tanned skin of an Illyrian, but instead of the dark hair that’s so typical around here, hers is red — not orange, not auburn, but blood red. You’ve never seen a shade quite like it.

And if that’s not enough to completely bowl you over, your gaze rakes over her clothing, and you stop, stunned.

Females around here wear homespun dresses of simple brown shades. A few, like yourself, favour basic tunics and breeches. Clothing is just a necessity, not something you lend much thought to.

But this female wears Illyrian leathers. Never, in your life, have you seen females wear Illyrian leathers. It’s simply not a done thing.

But she looks resplendent in them.

They cling to supple curves and accentuate a figure that you don’t think you’d ever be able to achieve with any amount of training. And perhaps the most shocking thing of all — and the most enviable — is the presence of brilliant, beautiful wings at her back. Unclipped. Untouched. Unruined.

How your wings might have one day looked, had your father not destroyed them.

You’re not entirely convinced that an angel hasn’t just stepped into your father’s forge. Or perhaps this is the Mother that everyone worships. Part of you wants to worship her, too, and beg her to bestow upon you her blessings—

You snap yourself out of it before you can fall head-over-heels in love with her. She’s just a customer.

A very, very beautiful customer.

“Good day to you.” She says, approaching the counter. Her voice is like pure music.

You incline your head in greeting. “And to you. Is there something I can help you with?”

“I’m interested in having some gifts made for my father and brothers. For Solstice.”

Once again, you’re gawking.

Another thing that’s unheard of; females liking their family members enough to have gifts made for them.

You clear your throat, blinking out of your thoughts. “What…what kind of things were you looking for?”

“Personalised daggers.” She answers, and then she grins in a way that makes you want to tell her your life story, and leans closer. “A male can never have too many daggers, right?”

You breathe a laugh. It doesn’t sound natural. “Absolutely.”

“I’ll be needing three. One for my father, and one each for my two brothers. Can that be done in time for Solstice? I can pay extra…”

This female has beauty, leathers, wings, a relationship with her family members, money. She’s magnificent. A few exchanged words, and you’re awed by her.

Who is she? How have you never seen her before?

“It can be done.” You tell her with a flustered smile. “I’ll just need to sit with you and get some details of exactly what you want made, and then my father will get straight to it. I imagine they’ll be ready for collection by Solstice Eve.”

Her eyes light up in a way that reminds you of sunrise. “That’s perfect.”

There’s a second or two where you just…can’t help staring. Her beauty has knocked you speechless.

But once again, you snap yourself out of it and try to retain some semblance of professionalism.

“Can I take your name down?” You say, and clear your throat again. Gods, you hope you’re not blushing. “For the order.”

You grab a piece of parchment and a pen, hoping you’ll remember how the fuck to write.

“It’s Kaeda.” She says, and the pen nearly slips from your hand. “Kaeda Baralas.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Solstice morning sweeps in just as abruptly as the fresh onslaught of snow that once again batters the camp.

It’s going to be a rough one. You can feel it in your bones.

You dread it every year, but this year is made even worse by the constant stream of thoughts that have been plaguing you over the last week. About whether telling Az about your feelings is a good idea. Not just because of what it could do to your friendship, but because…

Because you can’t deny that since seeing Kaeda in the flesh, you’re doubting yourself more than ever.

Of course, you can see why Azriel would want her. And why he’d want to be good and experienced for her. And you…you’ve been facilitating that. You’re the practice dummy. Kaeda is the real thing.

At least the chaos of Solstice keeps you busy.

You wake early, and from the noise and foot traffic outside your bedroom window, you know Az’s unit has safely returned from their training exercise. Your relief is short-lived, replaced by the dread of your father hitting the bottle.

Every year is the same. You spend the day trying to focus on your preparation of the huge meal you’re expected to cook, while your father knocks back drink after drink and gradually gets rowdier. You tell yourself that the more he drinks, the better — he’ll fall asleep eventually, and you’ll be out of here.

But then the front door bursts open.

It’s four of your father’s friends who pile into your cramped home, singing at the tops of their voices and reeking of booze. You’re only just able to stop one of them knocking a pot of potatoes off the counter with a careless, wayward wing. They barely acknowledge you, filing through to the sitting room to greet your father. Their voices get louder, and an ache is building behind your eye.

Day bleeds into late afternoon. You try to ignore them, to focus on the task at hand. Cooking is usually enjoyable for you, but with an unwelcome party happening in the next room, you find yourself getting more and more stressed.

By the time your father bustles his way into the kitchen and begins sniffing around the food, you’re close to losing it.

“Isn’t it ready yet?” Your father rudely demands.

You stare out of the kitchen window, at the dwindling light of approaching evening, clenching your jaw. “It is. I’m waiting for your friends to leave.”

“They’ll be eating with us.”

You whirl on the spot. “We don’t have enough food for that.”

“I told you we’d have guests.”

No, he absolutely hadn’t. This is a power play. He does shit like this all the time. Backs you into corners.

“I bought food for two people.” You snap, unable to stop yourself. “Not six.”

Your father’s nostrils flare. You know that look on his face a little too well — the one where his cheeks redden and his eyes turn cold. It’s always, always made your stomach lurch.

He steps closer, and you press your back against the counter, trying your utmost not to look intimidated.

“You’d better rectify that, hadn’t you?” His tone is deceptively gentle. “Be a good girl and find a way to make the food go around six people. You wouldn’t want to ruin Solstice.”

It’s a veiled threat. One you’d be wise not to ignore.

So you stare at him and he stares at you. And when he eventually nods and leaves the room, you turn and try to work out how to make a meal for two a meal for six.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The mountain of a male beside you jostles your chair so violently that you almost fall out of it.

His hand grabs a roast potato from your plate. He shoves it into his mouth, chews, and grins. “You weren’t going to eat that, were you?”

The entire meal has been like this.

Perhaps it’s your ice-thin temper that has you staring him right in the eye; a thing many Illyrian males consider a great disrespect from females. “Would it matter if I was?”

He swallows and swipes the lone, remaining potato you hadn’t planned to touch. “Not really, no.”

The dinner is usually the only part you enjoy of Solstice. A meal that you spend hours perfecting, of slow-cooked meat and roasted potatoes and a colourful array of different vegetables that are cooked to perfection. It’s the one part of the day where you can just sit and breathe, because even your father doesn’t usually have a bad word to say about the meal you’ve presented.

This one has been pure, unadulterated hell. 

To accommodate your unwanted guests, you’ve skimped on your own food, barely affording yourself a couple of mouthfuls. Wine and ale has been spilled across the table, and the conversation around it has only grown more and more uncomfortable — and vile — as the night has worn on. You want nothing more than to get out of here and find your friends, but your father and his cronies show no signs of slowing down. 

You sit, staring emptily at the plates, the little remaining morsels of the meal you spent all day cooking. You try to block out the laughter and jeering, the disgusting comments, the blatant disrespect, but it’s all getting to you, riling you up. You’re not sure how long you’ll last without snapping.

Your answer comes when your father looks at you. And he snaps his fucking fingers at the finished plates. 

“Clear this up, Y/N.” He says. 

You know your father. You know what he can be like, the damage he can do. Your ruined back is evidence enough. And you know the wisest and safest thing is for you to comply and rant about him to your friends later.

But you’re far beyond that point.

You meet his gaze, and your jaw ticks as you shoot back, “Why don’t you clear it up yourself?”

You regret it the second the room falls deathly silent. All the noise is gone in an instant. Every face is looking your way.

But it’s your father’s face you’re concerned with.  The expression that tells you you’ve made a grave, grave mistake. 

“What was that?” His voice is quiet. Too quiet.

You look away. Wish you could cram the words back down your throat. “Nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing.” The male beside you sneers. “You speak to your father like that, girl? If you were my child, I’d string you up by the remains of those wings you never should have been born with.”

“I’d do a lot worse than that.” Another one remarks, a sickening laugh in his voice.

Throughout it all, your father is staring at you. Saying nothing.

“Did it hurt, anyway? Having them ripped off like that? I bet it did. I hope it did.”

Your final straw is when the pig at your side has the audacity to reach around and touch your back. You tense immediately, and you’re shooting up from your chair, knocking it over as you do.

“Don’t ever lay a finger on me again.” You will your voice to be stronger, firmer, but it won’t comply. You shake as you gather the plates up in your hand. “I’m cleaning this up.”

That’s met with a chorus of laughter, a pelting of comments. You tell yourself to block it out, block it the fuck out, balance as much as you reasonably can in your hands and book it into the kitchen. You dump the plates onto the counter and grip onto the sink basin, trying to draw in deep, slow breaths.

But then there are footsteps behind you. And the kitchen door closes. And you know that’s not good.

“Y/N.” 

Your eyes shutter. You release one of those useless breaths before you dare to turn and face your father. 

And when you do, his face is…soft. Eyes filled with concern.

But you’re not stupid enough to buy it. 

You’re taut as a bowstring as he approaches you, stopping inches away. He drinks in the sight of you, tilting his head. You wait for him to tell you that you look just like your mother — a fact that only contributes to his vitriol. As if it’s your fault that she abandoned him, abandoned both of you. 

He thinks it is.

His hand touches your cheek, his thumb sweeping the skin there. You swallow, hoping he can’t feel the way you tremble beneath him. 

“What’s gotten into you, my girl?” He asks quietly. “What did I say about not ruining Solstice?”

You swallow. Lower your gaze. “I thought it would just be the two of us.”

“Do I not have the right to invite my friends into my home?”

“I’m just saying that a little bit of warning would have been appreciated. I didn’t spend hours cooking a meal just for your friends to come along and ruin it.”

“Your attitude has become insufferable. Perhaps it’s those three males you’ve been spreading your legs for. Giving you too much of an ego boost.”

You almost want to laugh in his face — laugh at his cluelessness. But your anger wins. Maybe you’re more like him than you ever thought.

“Or perhaps, father,” you snap, “it’s an accumulation of anger and desperation after twenty years of living with a repulsive, sanctimonious—”

He strikes you so hard that for a moment, you’re simply stunned as to why you’re suddenly on the floor. But the thwack of his hit rings in your ears, echoes through the kitchen. 

And then the metallic taste of blood is coating the inside of your mouth. It’s streaming down your chin, and you’re not even sure where it’s all coming from, only that it hurts and your eyes are stinging. 

Your father stares down at you. And in that moment, you realise that the eeriest thing of all is that he never glares at you. You think you’d prefer that.

He always stares with that emptiness. That icy vacancy. It makes his actions more unpredictable, more dangerous. 

He lunges down so suddenly that you flinch, yanking you up by the front of your shirt. Your legs don’t want to comply as he shoves you towards the door.

“Get the fuck out of my house.” He hisses at you, ripping the door open. “Go on. Fuck off, just like your mother did.”

And then he’s shoving you into the snow, a plume of it erupting around you. You hardly notice the cold. You’re too stunned.

Not stunned enough, though, to refrain from biting back at him. Just like a threatened animal would. 

“Fuck you.” You sneer, the words contorted by a mouthful of blood that you spit onto the snow. “Fuck you, father.”

The bastard laughs in your face. Just as he’s always laughed in your face. And then he kicks snow at you because he can and steps back into the house.

When the door shuts behind him, you push to your feet. You’re trembling all over. It might be the cold. It might be the shock.

There’s only one person you want to see right now. So you wrap your arms around yourself and head towards the dormitories.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Halfway through trudging across the camp, your shoes sodden with snow, your lip still bleeding, the emotions begin to hit.

You resent them. You resent feeling anything at all towards the male who is your only blood relative in this hollow, hollow place. The one who took your wings. The one who has tried to keep a firm grasp on the control he has over your life.

But you do feel things. Hurt and rage and humiliation and — bizarrely — betrayal. As if some small slither of hope had followed you from childhood into adulthood — that your father would one day miraculously awaken as a different person. A family member worth holding onto.

He never would.

No, your true family has always been the small, loving group that crams themselves into a cottage across the camp; a place of warmth and welcoming.

Rhysand and Cassian and Azriel. Rhysand’s mother, too. They are your family. They have always cared, since the moment you met them.

It’s for that reason that you persevere with your walk, even though you’re frozen to the bone. You think you might be crying. You’re not too sure anymore. Your friends will make it better. They always make it better.

The dormitories glow in the distance; a welcome sight, for once. You kick through the snow with desperation, and you’re definitely crying, definitely shaking all over, but the sounds of the celebrations coming from inside are a relief. Playful jeering and someone strumming a lute and off-kilter singing.

You push your way through the door. Inside is as crowded as you expect it to be, but you don’t even care. Anywhere is better than at home.

Your eyes — not really taking in much at all — scan the corridors, the common area, looking for any of your three closest friends. You see none of them, but a hand lands on your shoulder, and you turn to find Vegha there. Her eyes widen immediately at the state of you. You dread to think how bad you look.

“Y/N, what the fuck?” She blurts. “Why are you bleeding?”

“Fell over.” You know how stupid it sounds. “I…I need to find Azriel. Have you seen him?”

“Oh, I think he skulked off to his room a little while ago. Everyone knows he hates big parties like this—”

Perfect. You’ll hole up in his room together and block the rest of the world out. You’re already turning and pushing through people. You’ll apologise to Vegha for your rudeness later. Right now, you just need Azriel’s comfort, his love. The conversation you planned to have with him tonight is now a distant memory, an issue to confront later. You just…just want him. He always makes everything better.

You don’t notice the drink that gets spilled on you, or the disgruntled groups of people you have to shove through. None of that matters. Azriel is your family. He matters.

Finally, you make it to his room. The soft glow of faelights shine beneath the door — an indication he’s inside. You almost sob with relief as you grab the handle and burst in.

Two faces immediately look round at you.

Azriel’s.

Kaeda’s.

Kaeda lies on top of him, hands either side of his head. Her lips are swollen and inches from his. Azriel is palming at her waist, holding her against him. They’re both fully clothed, but…but you get the sense they wouldn’t have been for much longer, had it not been for your interruption.

Azriel drinks in the sight of you, his chest heaving. He blinks. You…you’re rooted to the spot.

And you fucking wince as Kaeda sits up slightly. Az’s hands fall back to his sides.

The beautiful female eyes you, tilting her head. And you want to get out of there, to fucking run, but you can’t do anything but stand and blink as something shatters inside of you.

“The shop hand from the forge.” Kaeda states in surprise, as if it’s ludicrous to consider that you might sometimes venture outside of your father’s workshop. “What happened to your face?”

Azriel is finally springing into action, then, sitting up and scooting out from beneath Kaeda. “Y/N…”

You cannot bear the gentleness of his voice. It may just finish you off.

All of this might. Staying here a second longer might.

So you, for some reason, shake your head and back slowly out of the room. Azriel lurches up, but you’re grabbing hold of the door handle firmly.

“Sorry for interrupting.” Your voice is all wrong and fractured. You quickly shut the door before it can morph into a sob.

You think Azriel might call after you, but it’s probably wishful thinking. You don’t know. Don’t know anything. Don’t know what to do next.

So you simply walk away.

You suppose you’ve taught Azriel everything he needs to know.

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[thatforkedroad]

Sun-hearted

[ao3] Anakin Skywalker is not human. The people around him try not to think about it.

----

Shmi had always known her son wasn’t like her. 

At first, she had assumed that the pregnancy had simply happened without her knowledge. Or that perhaps her mind had blocked out the event — a slave knew better than anyone how the brain killed the past to protect the present, to keep you surviving. 

But the more she tried to dig up the memory-that-wasn’t-there, the more she ran through scenarios, the more she realised that nothing that made sense. If it had been… any of her theories, she would have known, there would have been evidence, Watto wouldn’t have been so angry when he found out. Eventually, she realised she had to give up logic alltogether. Anakin’s father was not something knowable to her. He (it?) had been something else. Something impossible. 

A miracle.

The theory only grew more convincing as her pregnancy progressed. She began to sense things no human should have been able to. Objects falling before they’d even been knocked. Watto’s bad mood from two rooms away. Her baby’s strong soul, loudly proclaiming it would be a survivor. 

She held her new sixth sense dear for those nine months she had it — but not as dearly as she held her baby boy, to whom the sense really belonged. Her darling miracle baby boy, who always knew too much too soon, who read intentions as easily as he read schematics, and whose quick hands and quicker mind did the impossible on Boonta Eve. 

Slaves were supposed to cling to their miracles, so few and far between as they were. But a mother was supposed to do what was best for her son, and Anakin was her boy above all else. She let him go, hoping the Jedi would understand and care for his impossibility better than she ever could. 

(And as Shmi died, she did not need Anakin’s sixth sense to feel the anger running through his miracle veins. She did not need it to know what would happen next, either. 

She knew with all the certainty her slow-beating heart had that her son’s grief would raze the galaxy to ash.)

—

Obi-Wan knew Anakin didn’t fit in with the other younglings and padawans.

He wanted to believe it was just because of the boy’s upbringing, that it was only because he’d grown up in a much crueler, realer world to the others. Or perhaps it was because Anakin was already a padawan or because of how annoyingly easily it was for him to call the Force. Maybe they just heard the Council had tried to reject him. There seemed to be a few hundred thousand reasons that the children of the Temple would consider him an outsider — but one stood out like a sore and mythical thumb. 

There was no Chosen One or such thing as a child born of the Force. There was certainly no chance that the other children (even the ones who tried to accept Anakin with open arms) could sense otherness in his blood. He was just like any other Jedi, if a little more reckless. 

As Anakin and the other padawans grew, they grew together. He became like well-sewn patch on an old shirt — the difference was there, yes, but only noticeable if you were really looking. It was better for everyone if Obi-Wan stopped looking for the gap, so he did. 

Anakin had never seemed to notice it, anyway. 

(And as he watched Anakin’s slaughter of the Temple, the hot drowning of dread and horror and nausea was joined by a cold, parasitic realisation. The gap between Anakin and the other Jedi had never grown smaller; Obi-Wan had only grown more blind. 

Jedi were taught from a young age that they could not hold or control the Force, that they were to let it flow freely else they would face the consequences. Obi-Wan had been a fool to think that something made of one half Force and one half heartbreak could be held any more than its parent.)

—

Anakin grinned, and Ahsoka felt every clone in the hangar’s mood lift. Ahsoka couldn’t help but smile in return — and then he cracked a joke, and the worry and grief of the battle became a distant, shrouded memory.

It always went like this. They came back from the latest campaign dirtied, injured, and with a tiredness that ached into their very bones. They all wanted nothing more than to eat and sleep and mourn and not talk to anyone for several hours. But then Anakin — still riding the high of a good fight — would clap Ahsoka on the shoulder, make a stupid comment to Rex, and everything would feel fine. Better than fine even. 

Morale seemed so reliant on him that if her master was angry or sad or upset, so was the entire ship. When he was in a mood, meditation became impossible, no matter how at peace Ahsoka felt. She once considered that it was more than just moral, more than just his stupid jokes, but she had grown up in the Temple, raised on lessons of a Jedi’s few limits. A single man could not project his emotions onto an army. 

Anakin just had a friendly smile, was all. 

(And when Maul told her — warned her — of what her master would become, she did not listen. She could not listen. She thought only of his grin, and the sunny sureness in her chest that always accompanied it.

And so she fought for it again.)

—

Rex knew, theoretically, that General Skywalker was human. 

He’d seen enough medical scans from Kix (on the unusual occasion that the general submitted to care) to know that Skywalker’s biology was just like any natborn human’s. He didn’t have strange-coloured blood or an extra eye and all his (mostly-intact) organs were in the right places. The records showed that he was completely, one-hundred-percent human. 

Theoretically, this made complete sense. 

And it made sense he would seem slightly off. Rex had spent the first decade of his life surrounded entirely by his brothers and Kaminoan scientists; his idea of a ‘normal’ person was someone who looked and sounded identical to him, not a tall, barely-tanned Tatooinian with the wrong accent. Even if it hadn’t been, Rex knew Jedi were different from your average natborn. They could do all these crazy things that belonged in storybooks and myths, not the battlefield. Swaying people, moving objects (or clone captains) with their minds, seeing the future — if Rex hadn’t been trained to do so, he wouldn’t have believed a word of it. 

But if being a Jedi had been the reason, wouldn’t Rex have noticed the same thing with Commander Tano or General Kenobi? He understood that maybe Commander Tano wasn’t old enough to develop whatever it was General Skywalker had — but Kenobi was older, more trained in the Force. Surely Rex would have noticed the same thing, that same surely-not-quite-human feeling with him? 

Maybe he just spent too much time around the General. Maybe this thinking was just a part of having a good natborn friend.

He hoped it was, at least. 

(And when Rex heard of the attack on the Temple, he understood his hope was for naught. 

He and his brothers weren’t an isolated incident, he knew; Ahsoka had felt the deaths across the galaxy. He had no doubt the clones on the battlefield cut down their generals — who trusted them like they trusted their own right hand, who stood alone in front of a one-thousand strong army — with an alarming ease. 

But he heard reports of the Temple, of blue-painted clones massacring all there, and knew they couldn’t have done it alone. Only one Jedi was strong enough to take on a Temple of their own kind and win.)

—

Padmé wondered if her husband was made from the stars themselves.

It seemed like the only explanation, sometimes. How could anything mortal be so beautiful? How could anything born on solid ground hold that much love in its heart? He was impossible. He looked her in the eye and saw right through every mask she wore, saw that all she was at the core was an overworked girl from Naboo — and still beamed like she was the most perfect thing in the galaxy. He loved her for who she was, not what she could do for him nor for the stature of Amidala. That seemed rarer than stardust. 

She would see him and her breath would catch with something that had to be more than love. He stood by the window and stared into the Coruscanti night like he could hear every thought in the city-planet, his golden-brown hair catching the edges of the hundred-colour lights. She ought to walk up to him, hold him, tell him she loves him and pepper him with kisses — but all she could do was stare. In those moments, he was perfect and divine, and she could not interrupt them with her mortality. 

(And as Padmé lay dying, her life force dragged out by some dark presence, she thought of her star-husband. And she thought of the refugees she had once helped when their sun imploded. It should have been a lesson learnt; stars were beautiful in the night sky, warm in the summer, but dangerous. Able to end entire planets in their own cosmic pain. 

Some small part of her knew this when she first said I love you. But she could not listen. She saw only the star-beauty in his eyes and all the love he held in his sun-heart.)

—

Anakin Skywalker had long questioned whether he was human or not. 

But as Darth Vader looked down at his mechanical hands, heard his pressurised breathing, and ignored the pain that followed his every half-sedated movement, he found his humanity was no longer a question. 

#anakin skywalker #shmi skywalker #obi wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #captain rex #padme amidala #star wars #fic #total write forever

[bippot]

Summary: The two BAU younglings clearly feel something other than friendship towards each other. Despite how much Morgan and the rest of the team tease them, the dynamic duo progress at their own adorable speed.

Tags: Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Crushes, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Drinking, Awkward Flirting, Touch-Starved, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug

Music Recommendations: One on One Hall and Oates

Criminal Minds, Dr Spencer Reid Masterlist - here

Over the years, Spencer had grown more accustomed to people touching him. He still didn't like it. He still would prefer if he was left untouched. But if someone held their hand out for a handshake, he no longer declined the offer. He did rigorously wash and sanitise his hands after every encounter with a new person, though.

The rest of the team had begun to notice this new, more relaxed Reid.

Coincidentally, this change had occurred a few weeks after a certain Agent Y/N had joined the BAU; a young woman whom Derek had affectionately begun calling 'Peanut' since she had dethroned Reid as the youngest of the squad and had brought a peanut butter sandwich for lunch on her first day.

Together, the two youngsters had become fast friends. The new arrival quickly took a liking to Spencer's quirky personality and was the only person who allowed him to ramble on and on for as long as he wanted, about whatever he wanted, without interrupting or changing any of his train of thought.

Whereas Spencer was particularly fond of the way Y/N always gave him a helping hand socially whenever he needed it. He knew he wasn't the easiest to interact with sometimes, but with Y/N's advice and guidance, he was getting better.

After a particularly disgusting case, the team were on the jet and on their way back to Virginia, and they were all ready for a long weekend. The 'dynamic duo', as they'd become known, sat next to each other, both quiet and absorbed in their own thoughts.

"Hey, look at Pretty Boy over there," Morgan whispered to Prentiss, nudging the arm she was holding her drink in and causing it to splash down her shirt. He snorted but was quick to apologise, "Sorry, we can have a wet t-shirt contest later if you want payback."

Emily brushed her hand down the wet patch as she glanced in the direction of the duo to find Reid pretending to read. His book was firmly in his hands, yes, yet his eyes flitted between the page and the woman beside him, who was busy watching the clouds outside the window. Spencer's eyes were practically hearts behind his glasses as he watched her, his mouth slightly open and his tongue poking between his lips, and he looked utterly fascinated, completely enamoured.

"Oh, that's adorable," she teased, looking sideways and catching Morgan's eye with a knowing smirk.

Y/N finally took her focus off the window, realising she was being stared at by the young brunette. "What?" she questioned curiously, giving Spencer what she hoped was an inquisitive smile. Reid suddenly realised how creepy he must appear staring at her like that, so he tried to pretend that he wasn't doing anything weird but couldn't help smiling an incredibly goofy smile in return.

"You look tired, Y/N."

"That's no way to talk to a lady, Reid," Morgan interrupted, raising an eyebrow with a playful smile playing on his lips. "You still look beautiful, Peanut."

Spencer dipped his head to hide the frown that appeared due to Morgan's comment, and his fingers gripped onto his book a little tighter, which was obviously noticed by the profilers opposite. Even Hotch let out a quiet huff of something that sounded like laughter from where he was sitting, having turned around to see the display.

"I didn't mean it like... I, uh, I just..." Spencer trailed off, trying to come up with something to say. He looked across to gauge Y/N's reaction in the hopes she'd help him out and not embarrass him further.

Instead, he found himself looking straight into her bright eyes, which had crinkled at the corners as she giggled at him. Her hand made its way to his thigh and gently squeezed in an effort to comfort the confused boy, who had seemed to turn into a blushing, flustered mess in front of her, and her smile grew impossibly bigger at his bashfulness.

"I've been called worse, doctor. Don't sweat it."

With that, she went back to watching the passing scenery, while Spencer and Derek stared at each other, having a conversation with only their facial expressions. It didn't take a genius to figure out what Morgan was trying to urge Reid to do. It seemed that Reid was reluctant to go through with it. He looked across at Y/N and bit his lip nervously before shaking his head.

For the next hour or two, they all tried to get some shut eye, some more successful in their attempts than others.

Prentiss was snoozing with her cheek squished against the glass.

Hotch had spread himself out and had a sleep mask on, so who knows if he was truly sleeping or not?

JJ had fallen asleep a couple of minutes into the plane ride - she'd called Henry, and then, boom, out like a light.

Rossi had brought along a neck pillow and draped it around his head, apparently content to sleep away the remainder of the flight with the occasional snore escaping his slightly opened mouth.

Derek, well, he had his eyes closed but he had yet to drift off. He was too busy listening to the dynamic duo as they were in the throes of a passionate conversation, both of them leaning forward intently towards one another, their heads close together, and their voices hushed.

"I don't know what to tell you, Spencer, but I know - with one hundred percent certainty - that I'd prefer to watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer over Star Trek any day."

"You've got to be kidding me?" Reid said, almost shocked that she could ever consider such a thing. "Star Trek has endured for over fifty years. It transcends generations, and it's still going strong!"

"Yeah, well, have you even watched Buffy?"

"No." Spencer narrowed his eyes. "Have you ever seen Star Trek?"

"No."

He opened his mouth and seemed as if he was about to continue, but gave up with a laugh and shook his head in amusement. Y/N grinned at him and shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly as if she were assuring him that this argument meant nothing and it was just for fun.

"If you wanted to, and I, uh, u-understand if not, I'd be willing to endure a Buffy marathon with you. Any time."

His voice faltered slightly, and for a moment, it was like he had forgotten how to breathe. It felt like his heart stopped beating momentarily. For a second, he could feel his stomach churning uncomfortably, but the sensation vanished quickly and Y/N nodded her head in reply, unable to contain her grin at his response.

"You can try and turn me into a Trekkie if you'd like."

"Oh! Okay, yeah, I'd like to. W-we can arrange that. We can sort that out."

They soon settled down enough to fall asleep, heads resting against each other's and failed to notice Morgan whisper, "My man," under his breath. He peeked out of one eye to catch a glimpse of the good doctor and his soon-to-be sweetheart. Prentiss was right, he thought, they were adorable. And Derek had half a mind to take a picture and send it to Garcia.

After that, it was impossible not to notice how comfortable Spencer had gotten while interacting with Y/N in every way. The team was unsure whether the pair had actually gotten together yet, but they knew it was only a matter of time. The boy wonder often rambled about how they went to the library, the cinema, or had those TV watchalongs.

And it seemed that the pair were so close that they'd developed their own sort of language, even if they were unaware of its existence.

"Hey Spock," Y/N greeted as she entered Morgan's hotel room where they'd been going over the case after hours, her hands coming down on his shoulders to gently massage them. He'd positioned himself right on the edge of the bed, so Y/N took the opportunity to kneel behind him and rest her chin on his shoulder.

On this particular case, Reid had to read through thousands of pages of a psychopath's very descriptive diary, which was filled with gruesome descriptions and diagrams of torture. The rest of the squad had gone to dinner, yet Spencer had waved them off. They knew there was only one person who had a chance at changing his mind.

"Take a break?" But instead of stopping like she asked him to, he continued reading until she pulled the book out of his hands. "...Please."

"Fine," he replied with a sigh. "The unsub-"

"A total break. No work talk."

"But -" She gave him a look, one that was stern but soft at the same time, and he gave in.

As she went to pull away, she noticed that his hair was a complete mess. "Did you brush your hair today? Or at any point this week?" she teased while she reached up to brush through his thick locks with careful fingers, untangling the knots she spotted with ease.

"We were called out pretty early this morning, Y/N," he reminded her with a playful inflection in his voice.

He tried to say something else, but it died in his throat as her fingers worked through his hair, massaging his scalp in such a way that he was turning to mush in her hands. His body relaxed, and his head lolled back against her palm. When she finished detangling his hair, she continued to further relax him with her touch until he let out a borderline embarrassing whine.

"Ah! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make that noise," he told her, sitting bolt upright in embarrassment. His ears were bright red as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as if he could somehow rub away the blush that had appeared on his face.

Frankly, Y/N was proud that she could pull a noise like that from him. There was no doubting that it would be imprinted on her brain forever since it was so cute. She grinned in triumph while she tucked a lock of his hair behind his ear. "No need to apologise, Spence."

To show how little of an apology she needed, she resumed working her fingers through his hair again, this time more forcefully and with a little more pressure, causing Reid to once again moan softly at her pleasurable treatment. They stayed like that for a while, neither really caring that much about how fast the time was flying by.

Just as another noise fell from Reid's lips, Morgan reentered his hotel room and stood there for a few seconds in stunned silence when his eyes landed on the embrace his two friends were sharing on his bed.

"Well, well, well," he started, making them jump out of their skin. "I'd prefer it if you use your own room to canoodle, kids."

Their faces flushed as they scrambled apart from each other as though they had been caught doing something forbidden. "Uh... we weren't… we... we...uh..." Reid stuttered incoherently, completely failing to find the words to explain themselves without sounding like an absolute idiot.

"Pretty Boy, I'm just teasing you," Morgan told him, holding his hands up in surrender as he walked closer to the bed, his gaze shifting between Spencer and Y/N. "Although, I'm planning to get at least two hours of sleep, either you guys leave or you give me the keys to your room, your choice."

Looking at each other out of the corner of their eyes, the pair made a silent agreement and shuffled out of Morgan's room quietly. As soon as they were in the hallway outside, both of them burst out laughing, both at the awkwardness of their situation and at how they were probably going to endure even more teasing.

They began to slowly walk in the direction of their rooms, both of them swinging their hands and almost knocking them into each other with every step they took. Their laughter faded away and was replaced with nervous smiles, the awkwardness still lingering in the air. It was only when they neared Y/N's door that one of them spoke up.

"Are you hungry? We both skipped out on lunch earlier, so..." The brunette asked suddenly, looking down at her with hopeful eyes.

"You want to go and grab food?"

"Maybe we could order to the hotel? I haven't eaten anything all day except for breakfast."

"Has anyone ever told you you're a genius?"

"Funny enough, they have."

Soon enough, they were huddled on Y/N's bed, surrounded by Chinese takeaway boxes, and watching cable TV as they ate, talking animatedly as they enjoyed each other's company. By the time they'd finished their meal, they hadn't managed to wipe the grins off of their faces once. And neither of them was willing to move an inch from their spot. They were too cosy, too warm, and too full from eating, so as the night turned into morning, the pair were once again side by side as they drifted off.

From that mission on, whenever Reid needed calming down, Y/N knew exactly what to do. And after getting used to it, Spencer began to ask beforehand. Not vocally, no. Whenever he wanted her to play with his hair, he'd simply and subtly tap her thigh, which was his way to silently plead for the girl to pet him.

Obviously, their coworkers had witnessed many strange things over their years as profilers, but none of them expected to ever see the touch-phobic Dr Reid urge someone to initiate physical contact with him. It was a rather shocking revelation for everyone who knew him.

It all came to a head one evening when the squad convinced Reid to join them for one of their after-work bar nights. Morgan had heavily stressed the fact that Y/N would be there and she would want to see him, and as much as the doctor didn't particularly enjoy these nights out, he was swayed by the suggestion anyway.

The only problem was that Y/N had caught the attention of the recently hired bartender there, who proceeded to flirt with her nonstop. Reid, due to his lingering second thoughts about the outing, was last to arrive and, as soon as he walked through the door, was already regretting his decision.

"Doctor, you're late," JJ teased, nudging him with her shoulder and gesturing towards the bar. "It looks like Y/N's still ordering our round if you want to go and add yours onto the tab. Rossi is paying, so go wild."

"Have you ever known me to 'go wild', JJ?" Reid asked dryly as he headed in the direction of the bar.

"Tonight could be your night. You never know, Spence."

That sentiment rang through Reid's head as he approached the other half of his duo. Y/N was smiling but as he got closer, Spencer noticed a certain fakeness to it, almost as if the girl was forcing it. A bolt of something sweet went straight to that big brain of his as he realised she never looked at him like that. All of her smiles had been genuine when they'd been directed at him. And that was proved when Y/N caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye and broke out into a real, goofy grin that caused him to do the same.

"I was wondering if you were ever going to turn up," she greeted him cheerfully, holding her hand out for him to hold. He took it, and to his delight, she pulled him in for a hug.

She was a little wobbly and a lot more giggly than usual so it was obvious she'd had a few drinks. Judging by the glare he was getting from the bartender, Spencer assumed she'd got those drinks for free as a way to sway her affections. There was a flush to her cheeks as she looked up at him, and his heart skipped a beat when he caught a glimmer of something in her eyes.

"Do you want a drink, doctor?" she asked playfully, tilting her head to the side and giving him a coy look. "They do mocktails if you'd like something fancy."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll take a mocktail."

"I'll get them," Y/N volunteered, squeezing his hand before releasing it and waving the bartender over. The guy was quick to try flirting with her again despite the fact that Spencer was right there and still had his arm wrapped around her.

Did the bartender not see him as a romantic threat? How was that possible when he was literally the one who was closer to her in every sense of the word? Was it so unlikely? Reid's brain was working overtime, desperately trying to come up with a solution to this issue as he stood there, helpless, watching the bartender make a very flamboyant and fruity-looking mocktail.

"Are you wearing a new cologne, Doctor?" Y/N questioned, a hint of flirtiness in her tone. It was just enough to cause Spencer to very loudly gulp and avert his gaze. Accidentally, he looked directly at Morgan, who gave him (what Derek intended to be) an encouraging wink. Whether it was, was another thing.

"Uh, y-yes," Reid managed to squeak out, before mentally kicking himself for being so obvious.

"It smells nice. You smell nice."

"I do?"

"You do."

Before Reid could thank her, the bartender placed the drink right between them and that disturbed any response he would eventually mumble out. Instead, he hurried to take a sip as an excuse to not say anything other than a hum of approval. It was delicious - he had to admit that. Maybe he should branch out from extremely sweet coffee once and a while.

Throughout the night, Reid stayed glued to his friend's side and did his best to ignore the knowing looks the other members of the squad were giving him. Y/N kept him on his toes with the amount of times she caused a blush to appear and his IQ to drop by twenty each time she made a playful comment.

By the time they left the bar, he was a total mess. And although Y/N had only been a little tipsy - it seemed that she only needed a little bit of liquid confidence to act upon her feelings - he was determined to make sure she got home.

Working a job that constantly forced him to see the worst of humanity, well, he had an obligation to ensure nothing bad happened. Safety first, after all.

Getting more time to hang out with her was a close second, though.

The pair made it back to Y/N's apartment in no time. It was a relatively short walk, and the streets were quiet at that late hour. The night air was warm and humid and the moon was full, giving their journey an ethereal glow. Neither of them said much. They didn't need to. There was no need to break the comfortable silence as they made their way closer to her door.

Spencer let Y/N lead them up to her apartment door. He even allowed her to hide behind him when one of her drunk neighbours stumbled into the elevator they were in because she didn’t want to interact with him. She stood behind him, her hands on his hips and her forehead resting against the back of his shoulder.

It was only when the drunkard - who'd not paid attention to Spencer at all - left that Y/N came out from hiding. "Sorry, Spock. Last time, he spoke to me about buying a timeshare for a full hour and I couldn't go through that again," she apologised sheepishly.

"I hide to avoid talking to my neighbour almost every day. It's a small price to pay for peace and quiet."

"That doesn't surprise me."

Once they were inside her apartment, Y/N immediately flopped face down on her couch. Spencer plopped down beside her feet and, without prompting, untied her laces and slipped her shoes off. He then did the same with his shoes, leaning back and getting comfortable.

"You're so sweet to me, Spock," Y/N muttered, lifting her face from the pillow she'd squished herself into to look at him. What she was greeted with was adorable. Reid had his hands intertwined behind his head, sitting criss-cross applesauce with his eyes closed.

Because of how he looked and how sweet he was, Y/N got to her knees and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. His eyes snapped open and his jaw dropped so he was gaping at her, blinking slowly.

"W-what was that for?"

"For being you."

"Oh. Okay." He tried to hide his confusion, but the look on his face was priceless. For all his intellect, he couldn't work out what the hell she meant.

So, to give him a helping hand, she gently placed her hooked forefinger under his chin and tilted his head up so he'd meet her eye.

"For making me happy," she whispered, pressing her lips to his in such a way that Reid was so startled by her display of affection that he forgot to respond for a moment until his hands came up to either side of her face and deepened the kiss.

That was all it took to send him plummeting into the depths of lust-induced oblivion. Spencer was acting purely on impulse as he pushed Y/N down on the couch and pressed his body into hers, trapping her underneath him with his knee between her legs.

Breaking apart, he let out a breath and leaned his forehead against hers. "Morgan is going to be so smug," Reid joked, "When he finds out I kissed you."

"You kissed me?" Y/N repeated jovially, winding her arms around his neck. "Is your memory different to mine, Mr Eidetic?"

"I'll just tell him about our second kiss."

Before she registered how smooth that had been, Spencer's lips were back on hers. He was eager and hungry and intent on making her dizzy. He held nothing back, and neither did she. Their lips collided in a storm of moans and groans, tongues tangling and fingers clutching at each other. Reid moved away for a moment to take off his tie and undo the first few buttons of his shirt.

"It's getting a little warm in here," he muttered, finally realising his skin was on fire thanks to her touch.

With this new stretch of skin uncovered, Y/N couldn't help herself and attached her lips to his newly uncovered collarbone, kissing up his neck to his ear and biting down gently on the lobe. He made a noise that was somewhere between a groan and a whimper, and he let his head fall back so he was looking at the ceiling.

Her fingers toyed with the remaining buttons of his shirt, teasing them open to get access to the skin underneath. Reid kept his eyes closed as she continued her exploration, enthralled by the attention she lavished upon him. Eventually, she was able to slide the fully opened shirt off his shoulders and ran her palms down his sides until she reached his belt.

"Spence? Do you want to continue?" Y/N asked, her voice breathless yet understanding. He beamed at her with eyes as wide as a bush baby. Reid could barely form a coherent thought, but clearly still held some grasp of his gentlemanly nature.

"Let me take you on a date first. Please? There's a few showings of The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari at the Palace this month. I've been trying to gather the courage to ask you for seven months, eighteen days and -" He checked his watch. "Ten hours and thirty three minutes."

"You're adorable, Doctor Reid." She nudged the tip of her nose against his, and let her hand trail up to rest in his head, her thumb drawing soothing lines against his pink cheek. "I'd love to."

Their glee was evident. It was palpable. Spencer placed his hand on her thigh, just as he'd become so accustomed to over the months, and expected her usual response. Yet, when Y/N tangled her fingers in his hair and lightly tugged his chin up, her eyes focused on his lips, he wasn't disappointed with the change of routine. Quite the opposite.

"Do I have to wait until our date to kiss you again or am I allowed to do it now?" She coquetted, raising and wiggling her eyebrows in a teasing manner.

His response was instant. "Now!" He cleared his throat, afraid that he'd been too eager. "I mean, now if you want. Yeah, uh...now." She peppered his cheeks with sloppy, wet kisses until he was breathless and desperate for a proper smooch. It didn't take long before he was guiding her into position to get what he wanted.

It was safe to assume that their very intelligent, very observant colleagues were going to be difficult to hide from. Especially when, in all the excitement, Spencer left a hickey on Y/N's collarbone. One that was just a few centimetres too big to be hidden by her work shirt.

#spencer reid #doctor reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

[cattynamie]

Babysitting with Leona Kingscholar

+ Cheka.

Author's note : I've had this idea for a while and i'm actually going to embrace it this time :3, AGAIN. i had to do a little research on Cheka's character, so i hope i got him and Leona correctly.

Warnings : None! Completely SFW and anyone can read if they want. Also, the reader has no specific pronouns as far as im aware and can or can not be seen as Yuu! The choice is up to you ;)

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At first, Leona wanted to keep you away from Cheka as long as it was possible. Mostly because he doesn't want his brother smothering over you or asking you to tag along everytime there's a family dinner... Is it selfish wanting to keep your attention on him? Nah, he doesn't think so, you two are dating after all.

So, once in a blue moon, Leona text his brother asking when is Cheka coming over to avoid Cheka from meeting you personally as his partner. And also accidentally making Farena think that Leona's asking because he misses the little rascal (Yes he does, but just a bit and he'll never tell that to anyone.)

So Farena lies and tells him that Cheka's coming next week on Friday. And just decides to send Cheka that same day just to surprise Leona. Unknowingly to Leona, of course. Who was just having his nap number 427 BUT!! this one was special. You had managed to finish your school work in time and decided to take a nap beside Leona. (Which ended up being completely smothered by his body while he layed comfortably on top of you, but you had already gotten used to it at this point, but if you had some problem breathing, you'll just have to pat his back a couple times to change sleep positions.)

That is until Leona starts to hear impatient knocks on the door, almost a if they were hitting the door with both of their fists. Making one of his ears twich and his tail sway in annoyance before he grumbles an "What now?" Loud enough for the person to hear but still smothering your face with his body so you don't hear.

As a response, the door flies open, revealing the so called rascal with sun hair color and slightly tanned skin with a bright smile on his face at the sigh of his Uncle Leona who lies flabbergasted at the sight of the youngling, quickly putting all of his weight on you and smothering you awake before using the blankets to cover your figure.

"Uncle Leona! I finally found you!"

At the sudden raisse of voice, you start to fight Leona in order to geth the blanket that of in front of your face. (You were suffocating ;()

"You- What are you doing here?!" Leona growls as he continues to hold you down, hiding you from the sight of his nephew and suffocating you affecionately <3

"Weren't you supposed to come next week?!"

"Yeah! But you missed me and i also missed you! So i couldn't just wait anymore!" Cheka says with a bright smile as he jumps on Leona's bare back with a laugh, making Leona distracted as he let's go of the blanket and you pull it down, taking a fistfull of air as you try to push air back to your lungs.

Unknowingly to you, Leona was staring down at you curiously with wide eyes as he hold firmly from Leona's back.

"You're one of my Uncle's friends?"

And that was the last thing you heard before you were smothered by the youngling too.

-

As soon as Cheka found out who you were, he wanted to run to his attendants and tell them EVERYTHING.

When his plan were instantly thwarted by Leona who grabbed the back of his shirt and lifted him up to the air significantly before he could run and speak about the both of you to the attendant's.

Leona already knew that he could not buy Cheka's silence with ANYTHING but if he was going to tell, he'd rather Farena finding out late at the night. (so he can ignore his messages with a excuse.)

In order to keep Cheka busy, you offered a friendly chess game, which Cheka instantly agreed to spend time with his uncle, and Leona... was not so pleased with it, but he'll make the sacrifice.

So, it basically was you and Cheka vs THE Leona himself.

Cheka didn't really know how to play correctly (And you aren't that much a great player either...), so it was Leona's duty to teach you both correctly. (Not that he'd let you both win, but he did teach you both helpfull strategies so he doesn't or anyone win instantly.)

After that, you let Cheka rant all about his hometown as he lays on Leona's stomach while he plays with his braids. (Which you're kind of grateful for since Leona doesn't really speak about it) While youre massaging Leona's head in your lap.

...Which quickly lead on into Cheka and Leona playfighting on the bed. With a little bit of struggle, Leona managed to win the fight (unsurprisingly) and just slumped into the bedsheets because "He was already tired". Luckily, the little rascal grews tired too and slumps into Leona's back too, earning a groan from Leona as he grabs your elbow and starts to tug you into lay down too.

And you three ended up sleeping until the evening <3 Until a soft knock comes and an attendant peeks his head into Leona's room, saying that its time for the young prince to go home, (trying not to ask about your sleeping form as much as they can) But as soon as Leona steped out of the door, Leona could hear how he starts to tell them EVERYTHING about what you all did today.

With a soft groan and a sway of his tail, he embraces you once again and not EVEN ten minutes later, Farena tarts to spam message's into his brother's phone about you. Just as expected, Leona ignored them all and threw his phone at the other side of the bed, snugling his fcae into your neck as you both drift up to sleep <33

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OKAY that's all!! i had fun writing for this too, a great wy to pass tijme. once again, please forgive me if i got any of the character's wrong in this post, any kind of note or criticism will be very well welcomed!! thank you for anyone who's reding this i love you xoxo byeeeeeeee!1!!!!11!!

#leona kingscholar x mc #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst fanfic #disney twst #twst wonderland #twst #cheka kingscholar #twst cheka #twisted wonderland cheka

[ronwestbreeze]

you're gonna go far | 4

pairing: jake sully x neytiri x tsu'tey x fem!human! reader summary: a scientist arrives on pandora (unwillingly) a year after the exile of the rda. now she must deal with the likes of a clan leader, a great warrior, and a thanator rider. . . word count: 6.3k

read on ao3

“You are very loud.”

You heard this after placing a few fruits in your new bag. You found Neytiri up on a branch, looking down at you with a semi-annoyed and semi-light expression.

“I didn’t even say anything.” You frowned, turning to walk back to the compound.

Neytiri jumped down from the branch—surprisingly not making a sound—and followed you. “You did not have to.”

She then came up next to you and kicked your ankle.

“Ow.”

“You walk loud. Attracting creatures to you.” Neytiri pointed at your feet—or rather your shoes. “If you keep going into the forest then you must be quiet. With your feet and body.”

Your brows raised at this, “Really? Hmm. I’ll try to remember that.” Perhaps you would start walking through the forest with no shoes on, they were a bother anyway. You won’t miss it too much. Plus, being barefoot wasn’t all that much of a difference. Back on Earth, you would’ve loved to walk around the world with just your feet. But with everything dying and sick, you always kept yourself protected. Earth wasn’t much of a safe place anymore.

Much less a home.

While your mind whirred on with different ideas and plans for your garden and future attempts at foraging, you continued your way back to the compound, still with Neytiri following after you, noticeably a lot quieter in her step than you were. You cringed.

Maybe she did have a point about that after all.

You glanced over your shoulder at her and frowned, “Was that all you came for, or is there a point to this visit?”

Her ears fluttered, “I check to see if you are not making a mess.”

You huffed, “Gee, thanks.”

As the compound finally came into view, Neytiri ran ahead of you toward your mushrooms’ new spot. On her back, you noticed was a sling of sorts, and sitting in it was a baby.

Usually, you didn’t pay too much attention to babies—but this one was particularly familiar. It was a bit foggy, but you were sure you remembered him sleeping in that very sling before. And someone else was holding him at the time.

Only this time, the baby stared right back at you when your eyes met his yellow ones.

Cautiously, you stood next to Neytiri who was busily crouched down to examine your mushrooms. The baby had yet to stop staring at you.

You shuffled, hugging your tablet to your chest, “That baby yours?”

At the question, Neytiri looked up at you and then at the baby she carried, a free gentle smile tugging at her lips upon looking at him. “Yes. His name is Neteyam.”

You nodded and the baby, Neteyam, smiled at his mother and then looked back at you with the same curious yet innocent eyes. “Hello, Neteyam.”

Of course, he probably didn’t understand you—but it would’ve been awkward for you not to acknowledge him—especially with him staring straight at you at all times. But then again, you didn’t know whether or not the natives wanted you to interact with their younglings, so greeting him shortly and as politely as you could was the best option.

Indulge them—like you would any other human baby a parent forced you to acknowledge back on Earth. Sometimes even that wasn’t enough for them. They would keep pestering and cooing at you to hold them, even though you’d express very clearly that you were not comfortable holding one.

A pureness like that didn’t belong in hands like yours.

Instead of pestering you, Neytiri eyed you for a moment, like she expected something, before turning her attention back to the mushrooms. “Your crops are good. Take great care of them and they will grow well for you.”

“It’s only been a couple of days since I moved it. But yeah, you’re right. They’ve definitely gotten better. Thank you again.”

It was your turn to examine her now. Neytiri didn’t look much older than you—or maybe you were older, you couldn’t tell. One thing you did know was that you were sure that she didn’t like you before—well, your species. Same as that clan leader, Tsu’tey. Now, you wondered why she was willingly helping you with the garden.

Now, you were wondering if this was related to the first time you met her. The very first time.

When she watched you nearly die.

Your eyes glanced toward Neteyam again, who was snuggled into his mother’s chest, eyes drooping close. Honestly, you were surprised at how calm he was. Hadn’t made a peep or a cry once. In the back of your mind—the scientist part of you wondered if all Na’vi babies were like that.

Eventually, you moved away from the mushrooms, adjusting your bag of fruits you nearly forgotten. “I’ll harvest the fruits later today, um, first I’m heading to my mother’s burial.” You then frowned, remembering Tsu’tey’s warning—although mirky. You can’t forget the way his scowl seared into your skull, tattooing itself onto your mind. “Would that cause any problems?”

“No.” Neytiri adjusted the sling careful not to disturb the nearly asleep Neteyam. “But I will go with you. You are still too loud.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t bother to protest.

Mixed with exhaustion and spending most of your day foraging, you didn’t have the energy to fight her about it. Besides, last time she was with you, it wasn’t too bad. Better than her than random warriors watching you with severe gazes. Like you were about to attack them and not the other way around.

You weren’t entirely sure what to do about her son. Even though he was near asleep, you supposed you’d possibly get used to his presence as time rolled on.

Judging from your memory, it took a few minutes for you to find your mother’s burial. It was a good long way away from Hell’s Gate, that you definitely remembered. Mostly because you were counting the time in how much oxygen you had left in your mask.

When you found the familiar lump in the ground and the flowers surrounding it, you quietly sat down in front of it while taking your mother’s songcord from around your right wrist and holding it in your hands The size looked different in your blue palms compared to your human ones.

Neytiri sat down a couple of feet away from you, cradling the sling and Neteyam in her arms, humming a gentle tune to the infant. You found yourself watching the two in a faraway daze until you noticed a beaded necklace attached to Neytiri’s waist.

You nodded to it, “Do you have a songcord?”

She looked at you and nodded, “For my son. And another for my mates.”

You nodded, slightly intrigued. “I didn’t know Na’vi weren’t monogamous.”

There were some aspects you knew of the Na’vi—you weren’t totally in the dark about some things. Like the mates part. You weren’t entirely informed about it, but all you did know was that mating was common among them. Joan’s videos mentioned it once and didn’t go into too much detail. Not even researchers understand most of it.

So you couldn’t help but ask, “Do you guys often have more than one mate?” Neytiri’s ears flicked, a reluctant look on her face. You frowned at this, “You don’t have to tell me—”

She shook her head, “The Great Mother will give us one and sometimes more. She decides. And we listen.”

The Eywa bit was still a bit confusing to you—but you weren’t going to touch on that quite yet—perhaps that would be something else that could distract you later on.

Instead, you focused on her songcord, “How do you make those?”

Neteyam squirmed in the sling, his little tail swishing against Neytiri’s stomach. She caressed the side of his head to calm him, “You must understand our way before you make one.”

“I doubt your people would like that.” You scoffed as you tied your mother’s songcord back onto your wrist—this time the left. “Much less that Tsu’tey.”

“He is protective of us. Of his people.” Neytiri defended with a frown. “He is our Olo’eyktan, I do not fault him for being that way. And you are an outsider. You should not be here.”

You hummed, “So I’ve heard.”

Neytiri stared at you. And you stared back until you dropped your gaze back down to the songcord.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you were aware of your tail moving behind you. Swishing back and forth against the forest floor. Neteyam giggled and Neytiri, speaking in her native tongue, spoke to the infant in such adoration, that it was almost startling to you.

Your ears twitched toward them.

Surprisingly, the baby’s sounds were somewhat comforting. Easing the tenseness in your muscles.

Neytiri then spoke after a long pause, “What would your songcord say? If you make one. If I taught you how.”

You thought about it for a moment before shaking your head, “You said they’re for remembering, right? To be honest, it’d be too sad.”

Neytiri’s frown deepened which confused you, “Life is not one moment. Your—grief for your mother is forever but life does not stop moving.”

You winced. And she was staring at you again—god, she did that a lot. Her intense gaze drilled into the side of your head but you instead focused on the flowers surrounding your mother’s burial. Vibrant, just as your mother was.

“She was all I had.” You mumbled numbly while glaring at the lump in the ground. “How can something that was so permanent in your life suddenly be gone? How can you move on from that?”

Neytiri’s tail lashed behind her, “I never said you do. It is just the way of life.”

“Well, life’s shit.”

Surprisingly, Neytiri smiled. This time it was directed toward you. “You sound like Jake.”

“Hmm, he sounds somewhat smart then.”

Neytiri noticed you did not smile even when you made the joke.

You gently ran your fingers along the lump and soil of the ground. And for a moment, it was just you and your mother. Never mind that Neytiri was there with you, never mind the strange new world you were now trapped in. Right now, it was just the both of you.

“I’ve always wanted to come to Pandora.” You said to no one in particular. “With her. It was our dream. Then she went without me and….now I’m here. In the place of my dreams, the place I’ve always daydreamed about since I was a child—and I still can’t move. I feel so heavy. Even when I get up, even when I distract my scorpion-filled mind, I still feel like going back to bed and staying there until the world forgets about me.” You snorted bitterly, clutching the soil between your fingers. “Instead, I would rather be the shadow of my mother’s tombstone instead of going forward. How sad is that?”

And then there was the exhaustion. This heavyweight kept you rooted to the ground, even when you wanted to fly away into the clouds. The ground would swallow you whole instead.

“It is sad,” Neytiri spoke up, drawing you a bit out of your drowning thoughts. Even then you still felt like you were underwater. Like it was endless. Her voice was almost a muffled sound barely reaching your water-filled ears. “Being sad is okay. There is no need to hide it or ignore it. It is the way we are. We have loss. That is a very unfortunate truth for all of us.”

You made an absent sound of agreement, gaze never leaving the burial. Still not entirely there. Still not entirely human yet. “I still wonder if it’s worth it, you know? The loneliness—it’s the loneliness, I can’t take it sometimes…”

Something in your eyes ached, your throat feeling tight until you finally caught yourself. You glanced toward Neytiri who was—as expected—still watching you. This time with a familiar look in her eyes. Understanding and something else. Something you despised.

You felt stupid then.

Opening up to a stranger. Asking for pity from someone who probably went through a lot worse than you? Neytiri—as far as your knowledge of the war a year ago went—had lost her people and home. Who were you to even ask for her sympathy? For her pity?

It was so pathetic.

With that, you straightened your back and turned your gaze away from her, your walls slowly building themselves back up out of obsessive protection. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said all that.” You got to your feet, pissed at yourself, still avoiding Neytiri’s look.

Something about this area.

It always left you too vulnerable.

“I should go harvest some of the plants now…” You gave a jerkish nod to Neytiri. “I’ll see you around.”

You didn’t wait for a response as you began your journey back to the compound.

Neytiri returned to the village, deciding to keep today’s events to herself.

It wasn’t something to speak about yet. Not to Jake. Not to Tsu’tey.

Not yet.

“There you are.” Jake smiled toward her and Neteyam in greeting as she entered their shared hut. Neteyam instantly reached for him and Jake took the little one in his arms, face alight with warmth and love as he held his son close to him.

Neytiri found herself smiling in relief and adoration at the sight as she took a seat on the floor. There was a sense of comfort and ease whenever she came back home to her mates and child. Even with today’s events, she felt her tense muscles relax a bit just as in this simple scene. At Jake’s love for their child. For their firstborn.

“Where did you take him this time?” Jake asked, looking up at her with the same adoration.

“To the Sky Person. She has a false body now.” Neytiri responded honestly, putting her bow down. She noticed her songcord tied to her loincloth and stared at it in particular.

A surprised look crossed his face, “You went to see her?”

She frowned in confusion at his reaction, “Yes.”

“And?” Jake watched her reaction curiously.

Neytiri noticed this and she, for a moment, while watching her son tug at one of Jake’s locks, considered her words carefully.

“It is sad. Very sad, Ma’Jake.” And that was all she offered. Jake just looked at her, the comfortable smile now gone and instead replaced with a contemplative frown. She then leaned toward him curiously, “What do you think of her? You were like her once. You understand their emotions and their way of expression better than most.”

Jake’s ears twitched and moved his gaze down. It wasn’t avoidant but thoughtful as she spoke, “Besides the obvious, she found out her mother just died, so there’s not much mystery to her reactions there. I understand it…and I, well, I didn’t exactly do a great job at empathizing before. If anything, I probably only made things worse when it came to her.” He winced as if he were remembering something—an expression that had become very common these days when it came to him. “Other than that, I can’t get a read on her. And I don’t know if that’s unsettling or not.”

“She is much easier to read in her false body,” Neytiri added thoughtfully, patting down a rebellious strand of hair on her son’s head, watching him nuzzle himself into his father’s chest. “Perhaps you should talk to her as well—my mother seems to believe her and Eywa, she has favored her for a reason. I want to understand why.”

He snorted, “I don’t know if we should even be left in a room alone together.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know. One of us might kill each other.”

Neytiri gave him a look at his joke, “Then I would come to make sure you both behave.”

“I don’t know if behaving is the problem.”

Before Neytiri could question his comment, their attention immediately snapped to the two figures now entering their hut. Tsu’tey being one of them with a relaxed smile on his face as he greeted them, “Ma yawne!” He approached Neytiri first, wrapping her in his arms from behind, one hand resting on her stomach. “How is our little one?”

Tsu’tey also seemed more relieved and at ease as soon as he entered their shared home. It was like a safe place for them. Away from clan duties, away from the Sky People, away from the world entirely.

She smiled, leaning further into his hold, “Strong, like his Papa.”

“Good, good.” He held her and her stomach a while longer before moving toward Jake and Neteyam.

Glancing over her shoulder, Neytiri frowned when she saw Artsut standing at the entryway of their hut—looking disapproving as usual. And with that, Neytiri took to ignoring her, turning her attention back to her mates. Focusing on her comfort.

Tsu’tey was now holding Neteyam while Jake gently squeezed the former’s spot between his neck and shoulder—the very rare physical affection that he would only show around herself and Tsu’tey. Another strong difference between the Sky People and her people. They weren’t as carefree with affection as her people were. Just another way of reserving their emotions that Neytiri didn’t quite understand.

Silently, Neytiri decided that this was too good of a moment to ruin. That the Sky Person who could not smile would have to wait for now. She decided this, even though she could not stop thinking about you.

But of course, Artsut could not let things simply be.

“The time to find your last mate is nearing.” Artsut huffed, nose turned upward. She stared down at the small family as if they were a small bug she could step on. “There will be no more time wasted on this, son. It is time to begin choosing.”

Jake’s jaw tightened. Tsu’tey sighed. And Neytiri continued ignoring her.

“We’ve just had Neteyam and have another on the way,” Tsu’tey responded patiently, pressing a gentle kiss to their son’s head. “Let us be grateful for this. There is no rush—”

“I will not be at rest until you are fully accepted by Eywa—”

“And how do you know we aren’t?” Tsu’tey’s voice was calm. Dangerously so. Neytiri could see he was seconds away from snapping. With his duties as Olo’eyktan and now his mother’s constant badgering on a knowingly sensitive subject was just about it.

Artsut hissed, “How do you know that you are? Considering you’re mated with a demon, it barely makes up for—”

“Mother, I warn you.” Tsu’tey snapped his eyes glaring over Neytiri’s head at the older woman.

But she continued with venom practically dripping from her tongue. “I want a true grandson of our blood! I will not accept any more of your half-breeds—”

“That’s enough!” Jake hissed as he shot to his feet before Neytiri could stop him—face roaring with vibrant rage. Jake wasn’t an expressive man. So him losing his resolve so quickly at that, was quite startling whenever it did happen.

Neytiri stood, grabbing his arm to try and calm him. They should not allow this woman to get to them. She was already used to the older woman’s attitude toward herself and her mother. So, Neytiri was all too familiar with how poisonous she was. How vicious her words could get. Even against her own sons, Arvok specifically.

Now Artsut was angered, hissing at Jake—looking extremely similar to Tsu’tey just then. “Will you allow this, son!? The Demon speaks this way to your own mother and you won’t—”

“Neytiri.” At the call of her name, she turned to find Tsu’tey now on his feet as well, offering Neteyam to her. She took her son in her arms as he turned and stalked toward his mother, “Outside. Now.”

Tsu’tey had always been a severe man. But always particularly patient with his mother. Usually, Artsut would listen to him—because he was her golden child—but these days she has been way too on edge. Way too reckless with her words.

Once they were gone, Neytiri guided Jake to sit back on the floor. Squeezing his arm gently while rocking Neteyam in her arms. “Do not let her words get to you, Ma’Jake. She will always be like this, she will never change. We must learn to keep the peace on our side, out of respect for our mate.”

Jake’s ears were pinned to the sides of his head, letting out a breath of anger and exhaustion. “How can she expect us to find another mate with her in the picture? I almost don’t want another one because of that woman.”

Neytiri shook her head, smiling sadly. “We cannot deny our duties, ma tiyawn. All we can do is pray the Great Mother sends us someone who is strong. Who will not let Artsut’s poison sink into their skin.”

The next day came. In your human form, you followed Norm to the amino tank room. The last time you had been here was when you met up with Jake—a bitter memory you wished was as muffled as your meeting with Mo’at.

You just couldn’t find yourself wanting to go back to that night. To all of it. It was bad enough that some of their words still stuck with you.

A lost cause.

She’ll be out of the way.

Demon.

As usual, you shook off these memories or thoughts and kept going.

Apparently, Norm often performed weekly check-ups on the unused avatars. Making sure they were still healthy and taken care of with no complications because even if they happened to be unused, they still needed tending to.

“Why not just get rid of them?” You questioned as you studied the stats of one of the avatars. This one had an ugly jagged scar across his face. “Most of these won’t be used anyway. It could save a lot of resources.”

“It would be a waste of resources and money actually if we did get rid of them” Norm frowned from across the room, not looking up from his own tablet. “At the end of the day, they’re still a living being. We can’t just kill them. It’s—it’s inhumane.”

You didn’t have a good response to that so you moved on to the next avatar. Which you recognized as the one that belonged to the late Dr. Augustine. It was a bit morbid, actually. Staring at a comatose avatar with the face belonging to someone who was dead.

You desperately hoped your mother’s wasn’t here. F it was, if you discovered it first before Norm, you’d burn it yourself.

“How are you doing today?” Norm suddenly asked. “Any progress on the garden?”

You didn’t look up from your tablet as you responded simply, “The mushrooms are growing well enough. Neytiri gave me some advice and it’s helped a lot. Just taking it day by day. The progress is being watched closely.”

After a pause, Norm nodded, “Good. That’s good—you know, I’m tryna work on my empathy. We scientists often get too caught up in the work to stop and consider human feelings. Believe it or not, I was a lot more insensitive a year ago.”

“Really.” You deadpanned, completely uninterested in where the conversation was going. Carefully, you examined Augustine’s body, which was as expected in perfect condition. There was something about the stomach though—

“It’s true!” Norm continued as if he hadn’t heard your complete uninterest. “I was absolutely awful before. I couldn’t stand Jake at first because of it. It’s honestly a wonder that Trudy—uh…” You glanced up briefly when he suddenly faltered. There was a familiar look on his face. Somber and grim. “—it’s a wonder anyone would have gone for me. Would’ve liked me despite all of that, you know? Those people are a rare find. Like a jewel.”

For a moment, you watched him quietly and frowned. Norm didn’t meet your eyes as he moved toward another tank with his back now turned to you.

After finishing up on Augustine’s avatar, you moved to another tank as well.

A beat went by before you added, “You’re fine, Norm. Thanks for asking.”

At that, Norm turned to you with a startled surprise, “Really? Wow, I half expected a sarcastic comment. S’nice that I’m wrong though.”

You shrugged, “You were probably the only one here that wasn’t against me, which was nice of you. You didn’t have to do it but you did. Even if I was mildly difficult.”

“Mildly difficult isn’t how I would put it.” Norm chuckled a bit.

“Fine. Maybe an asshole.”

Norm laughed, which was a light little sound in the quiet room. “No, you are an asshole, just not for your reaction to everything.”

“Ah, well, I feel a lot better then.”

Neytiri didn’t come back until a week later when your first mushroom started to show.

You were relieved for the progress and how well they were doing. So much so, that you couldn’t help but want to pick more of Neytiri’s brain. Learning from an actual native was infinitely a lot better than looking at a book—although it was a good foundation—it didn’t beat the real thing.

So when she came out of the forest with her bow in hand as usual—and no Neteyam in sight this time around—your brain was already buzzing with more questions for her, your tail swishing a little behind you.

“This is good.” She nodded, careful not to step on your crops. “Have you planted more?”

You nodded, oblivious to her watching your tail both curiously and intently as it continued swishing against your leg. “Yes, all of them are situated so that the sun is directly on them when it comes out and when it sets—but what do you guys do if it rains? Any coverings I need to know of?”

She nodded, “Yes. After I tell you, I want to show you something in the forest.”

With a frown, you watched as she began examining some of the fruits carefully, her nose scrunching every now and then. “What is it though?”

The scowl she sent you was surprising and you half expected her to hiss an insult at you. Instead, she said, “I won’t tell you now. You will know when I take you. Now be quiet and listen.”

You watched her in surprise, trying to figure out what it was that she wanted to show you. Or why she wanted to lead you into the forest alone. A stupid part of you thought she was probably going to lead you into a trap and kill you—solve the stain on their land by her own hand.

But the more sensible part of you just did as you were told and crouched down next to Neytiri as she began explaining some ways to continue nourishing the mushrooms while also covering them from changing weather without causing any unnecessary damage to the forest.

She also helped with planting a few more seeds that you had left. Physically adjusting and guiding your hands whenever you patted the soil to cover the seed or when you were a little too rough with the plants.

Gardening in itself was relaxing, you had never known that to be true until you had done it with Neytiri. Sure, you took care of a forest that sometimes required a lot of replanting for trees and different plants, but you were never physically out there yourself. You were always surrounded by screens and giving orders from a lab, wearing long white coats and goggles—you weren’t really ever among nature. Not really.

When you first started redoing the garden, it was just a task to keep you distracted. To keep your body busy and moving instead of stiff and motionless.

But now? Well, you weren’t entirely sure what this feeling was yet. All you did know was that you wanted to keep doing this. And that it didn’t seem like much of a hassle anymore. But instead, something you actually looked forward to.

Plus, you were strangely getting used to Neytiri’s presence. Or more like expecting her in your somewhat structured schedule.

You were grateful for her help the past couple of weeks, even if there was still a small question resting in the back of your mind. Left unanswered for now.

Once the two of you were finished, Neytiri led you away from the compound and into the forest. Halfway through the journey, you started watching her movements, noticing how different they were compared to your stiffness. She was fluid, her steps quiet along the forest floor, against the tree barks you stepped over, and in the small creeks, her feet splashed through. Almost like she was one with the forest.

Then there was you. You looked down at your own feet, remembering how she said you had been too loud trudging through the forest on your own. And that it could draw some unwanted attention your way if you weren’t careful.

So you stopped short and decided to feed your scientist brain as you took off your shoes, leaving your blue feet bare to the forest, similar to Neytiri. You then looked up, watching Neytiri move as she continued forward. Quietly, you began mimicking her movements as you followed her. Not perfectly of course, but enough for her to hear a shift in your step causing her to glance back at you with a furrow in her brow.

When you were younger, you had made a game out of it, out of sheer boredom. Your mother had been rushing around her lab working—too busy to give you attention. And you, to keep yourself preoccupied would mimicked her movements whenever she walked around the lab. You’d follow her for hours without her knowing—mostly because your mother was one of those people who could be easily snuck up on—until one day she did and laughed at your antics.

“Well look at that!” Joan would grin. “I have my very own shadow now. I’ve always wanted one, but I didn’t expect her to be so small!”

“I’m not that small!” You would whine.

You stopped short after climbing over a fallen large tree, Neytiri was already on the other side of it, watching you carefully. When you landed next to her, she poked your legs with her bow, “Still too loud.”

“Well, it is my first day after all.” You half-joked, trying not to pant in front of her to show your lack of athletic ability.

Her ears flicked but she didn’t say anything more on it. She continued forward, still glancing back at you from time to time as you followed and continued mimicking her the best you could.

It wasn’t until you recognized some of the trail did you realized where she was leading you. Too distracted by your own antics, you hadn’t stopped to realize or wonder why Neytiri was leading you to your mother’s burial. Before you could ask, the burial finally came into view.

And you stopped, the words falling back down your throat, your mind going blank.

Surrounding your mother’s grave were a bunch of new beautiful flowers. Not only that but a bunch of atokirina were floating around it. There was something heavenly and pure about the scene, something so moving, something so vulnerable—

Neytiri waited at your side, her eyes glittered with delight as she watched your dumbfounded expression.

“What is all of this?” You finally asked, inching closer to the burial. You almost didn’t want to get too close, afraid you’d ruin whatever was going on around it.

Smiling, Neytiri grabbed your arm and guided you down to sit. One of the atokirina floated its way toward the two of you. It didn’t land on you as you expected, instead, it just floated there. As if it was meant for the both of you.

Finally, Neytiri spoke, “I had discovered it the day before. It had a lot more atokirina here but it seems some of them had stayed long enough for you to see it. It was like she had wanted me to bring you here, just so you could see the Great Mother’s work.”

“Eywa?” You raised your brows curiously, looking from the atokirina to Neytiri, “What work did she do exactly?”

The dandelion-looking weed floated toward Neytiri, who had her palm open for it to land. It grazed her palm before floating off. “When I asked the Tsahik she said it meant that your mother now rests with Eywa

Even if you weren’t entirely familiar with their deity, you knew enough about spirituality and religion to understand what exactly Neytiri meant.

And you were speechless—no unsure of your words. What was the proper response to something like this? Should you be happy? Should you be sad? It seemed that Neytiri believed it was a good thing your mother was accepted by this Eywa.

At the end of the day, your mother was still gone but this was—nice. Sad but nice. Like a funeral should be. Like her funeral should’ve been.

In the corner of your eye, Neytiri ducked her head down a bit to get a better look at your reaction, “Do you not like it?”

“I do—yeah.” You assured with a nod, your tail swishing back and forth. “It’s—it’s a lot better than our idea of a funeral, I guess.”

“You Sky People—you do not have burials like this.” It was more of a statement than a question as Neytiri spoke. She looked back at the burial with a small frown, “Ma’Jake told me this, that his people burn their bodies when they have passed.”

You nodded grimly, gaze cast down to look at your mother’s songcord that was still wrapped around your wrist. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“Your way is cold. Your people are cold.”

Again you nodded, “Yeah, we are.”

Neytiri then shook her head, “You are not cold.”

You had no response to that. Instead, you thumbed the beads on the songcord, “This seems like a bead-worthy moment. This burial.”

“Yes. It can be.”

After another long pause, you finally looked at Neytiri. Really looked at her. The question burning at the forefront of your mind.

“You put the mask back on me, didn’t you? When I first arrived. When you killed DeVoe.” You frowned. “You had no reason to save me. I am just another Sky Person to you, so why?”

Neytiri’s ears fluttered, “Why save you?”

“Yeah. Why save me?”

She frowned and stared at your mother’s grave thoughtfully.

“Your spirit is different. I could not kill such a thing, not when Eywa herself had chosen it.”

You hummed, “Huh, that clears things up.”

“You do not believe me?” Neytiri frowned at your reaction, clearly not used to your deadpan sarcasm.

A part of you was amused at that, “No, I believe you.” With that, you stood, stretching your limps. Wiggling your toes on the soft forest floor. “But thank you again. You didn’t have to show me this but you did, for whatever reason.” You dusted off your shorts, “And here I thought you hated me.”

Neytiri stood as well, grabbing her bow from off the ground as she did, “I do not like your people. But I do not hate you—I feel nothing for you.”

“Is…that a good thing?”

She blinked, “I have not killed you yet. So, yes.”

Your ears twitched upward, just slightly, “Good to know.”

You returned to the compound alone later that day, feeling just a little less heavy than before.

Neytiri could not stop thinking about your face. She began to wonder if you ever smiled. What would it look like?

Norm and you were back in the tank room the next day. Norm was mumbling about preparing for the week ahead and something about cleaning up one of the bio labs after a spill—you didn’t listen entirely to know why or how there was a spill.

But you didn’t mind it by now. Nearly a month here and you had a lot to do. Anything to keep you away from your bedroom for a while. Anything to just keep moving.

So if that meant listening to Norm’s rambles every other week, you were fine with that.

“I’m gonna be surrounded by a bunch of Na’vi kids this upcoming week.” He informed from the tank next to you. “I could use the extra help—”

“Kids aren’t really my forte.” You mumbled, moving toward Augustine’s avatar. “Plus, I got to watch my garden. My mushrooms are finally getting somewhere thanks to Neytiri—I don’t want to risk leaving them unwatched. Even if it is for a couple of hours.”

“Ah,” Norm hummed, looking up at you with both an impressed and amused smirk. “that’s right, Neytiri has been coming around a lot. Usually, she’d only come if Jake were here—and those days are rare themself.”

“So you understand my reasoning.” You nodded, briefly looking up at him. “I can’t miss a day over here. For both my garden and the fact that I don’t particularly feel like angering someone who could tear my head off if she wanted to.”

Norm snorted, “Yeah, maybe you’re right. Plus, I have a feeling the kids’ll be too scared of your intense mug. Avatar and human.”

You gave him a look, “Sure, and I’m the asshole out of the two of us.”

“Oh, you definitely are.”

Norm laughed while you turned your attention back to Augustine’s avatar. Only, you frowned when something came up on your tablet. Strange stats that you were sure you were probably reading wrong. You double-checked a couple of times, just to make sure.

Maybe you hadn’t gotten any sleep. Yes, you were hallucinating strangely detailed stats because of your lack of sleep. Yes, that was it.

That was when you got a better look at the avatar.

“Spellman.”

“Yeah?”

“Come over here.”

A few seconds later, Norm appeared next to you, “What is it?”

You gestured to Augustine’s avatar, “There’s something there, in her stomach.”

Norm took your tablet and examined it. Silent. You watched his brows furrow together then suddenly morph into unmistakable shock.

“This…this isn’t possible.”

You took the tablet from him far too confused yourself. “Does the facility own an ultrasound anywhere?”

finally got this written out lol. sorry for the long wait, last week was just crazy busy for me which left me very little time to write.

but now i've got the fourth chapter for you guys. as usual, let me know what you think!

as you can see, it all starts with neytiri hehehe. i wonder if jake and tsu'tey will follow along because of this...

taglist: @doggyteam2028 @bigbootahjudy @innercreationflower @n7cje @celi-xxmoon @readerofallthings @sillyblues @squirtlebob @saturnhas82moons @1mawh0re @aprosiacperson @loserwithnofriends @garfieldsladybird

#jake sully x reader #avatar jake sully #avatar jake sully x reader #jake sully #avatar jake #avatar the way of water #neytiri avatar #neytiri x y/n #neytiri x reader #neytiri x you #jeytiri #neytiri sully #neytiri x jake #tsu'tey x y/n #tsu'tey x reader #tsu'tey imagine #tsu'tey avatar #tsu'tey te rongloa ateyitan #jake sully x y/n #dilf!jake sully x reader #dilf!jake sully #jake sully x tsu'tey #atwow #avatar 2009 #[you’re gonna go far]

[in1-nutshell]

What would be the lost light crew’ reaction to being told how humans create life by pregnant reader?

Someone's going to come out of this discussion scared or with new respect. Since you didn't ask for any specific characters, I will be choosing them at random.

Hope you enjoy!

Pregnant Human Buddy trying to explain Human life to Rung, Nautica, Ambulon, Cyclonus, and Skids

SFW, Platonic, mentions things in pregnancy, slight angst at beginning, Human reader

MTMTE

Buddy was pregnant. One minute they were filing some reports for Magnus, the next they were in the medbay far from Earth looking at the paperwork that read that their pregnancy test was positive. Buddy immediately went to phone their significant other to tell them the news, only to find out they had left the country on unrelated things.

Now Buddy was left with the Lost Light, in space, with their future baby.

What can go wrong?

Apparently a lot. Who knew that announcing their pregnancy to the crew would lead to a Q and A. Each Bot had a number to wait for so Buddy could individually answer their questions.

Here are just some of the few...

Rung

Rung had already a grasp on the basics when it came down to human anatomy.

Blame him for being bored and curious on how his human friend's brain worked. He wanted to see how similar they were to a Cybertronian processor.

Rung does ask to touch Buddy's stomach to feel the baby. He is one of the few Bot's that feels the baby kicking.

"Oh my! What was that?"--Rung

"That's the baby kicking Rung. They wanted to say hello."--Buddy

"Does it hurt? They are kicking you after all."--Rung

"Nah, it doesn't hurt really. But it does make me want to pee."--Buddy

He becomes much more careful with Buddy as they get further into their pregnancy. Rung makes sure Buddy has a good net of friends they can call on in case they need it.

Nautica

Like Rung, has some of the basics down on human anatomy thanks to Velocity's studies.

When you have a friend studying this for years, you're Bound to get some of it stuck in your head.

Nautica is asking questions left and right.

"Do you know how many babies you'll have?"--Nautica

"Not yet Nautica, it's still too early for the ultrasound to be clear."--Buddy

"How many can you get?"--Nautica

"Well, that depends. I've heard some parents have six at once."--Buddy

"Wait... How do they get out?"--Nautica

"...It's a good thing you're sitting down."--Buddy

Buddy has to calm Nautica down after telling her about the joys of child birth.

Nautica is protective of Buddy and their little bun in the oven after that talk. She reads up on as many midwife books she can get her servos on. Just in case.

She loves placing her digits on the swollen belly. Of course she asks Buddy permission before touching the belly.

Ambulon

Ambulon is one of first in line for the questions given he is one of the only other doctors on board.

He already has a list of things to ask.

"You have cravings? Are they anything like what you usually crave?"--Ambulon

"Well now that you said that, I'm really craving some pasta with chocolate syrup and pop tarts."--Buddy

"... That doesn't sound remotely healthy at all."--Ambulon

"That's what the baby wants Ambulon."--Buddy

Ambulon is one of the first to see the ultrasound when it's time. The picture looked cute in a creepy way. He didn't know humans started out like that!

Silently crying on the inside when he feels the baby kicking. It's such a gentle little nudge!

He scans the photos of the baby for Buddy to have .

Cyclonus

Cyclonus said he was here because Tailgate wanted to be here.

That's a lie.

He was actually a bit scared of how swollen Buddy's stomach was getting. This Q and A could lead him to the answers he needs.

"There is a youngling... Growing inside you?"--Cyclonus

"Yeah, the little guys are growing in me."--Buddy

"Surely when they come out they will be a mighty warrior like their caregiver."--Cyclonus

"Aaww! Thanks Cyclonus! But it'll take some years for them to hold a blaster."--Buddy

"Yes years of training and the young one will hold it."--Cyclonus

"... Cyclonus... The baby won't be able to do much for the first few years? What do you think a toddlers just going to come out of me with basic knowledge of the universe?"--Buddy

"Are you saying that doesn't happen?"--Cyclonus

Cyclonus's Q and A were a bit longer than expected. But not the longest Buddy had to answer.

Cyclonus becomes one of Buddy's unofficial official bodyguards as the time for childbirth approaches.

Skids

He is one of the last to know about the Q and A.

Skids takes one look at Buddy's stomach and thinks they are going to explode. Thankfully Buddy managed to explain the Q and A before Skids took them to get their stomachs pumped.

"So there's a kid growing inside you?"--Skids

"Yep."--Buddy

"But did you just willed them to be there? Or do you have a Hotspot inside you?"--Skids

"What's a Hotspot?"--Buddy

There is a lot of cultural misunderstandings and learning involved in this Q and A.

Skids learn the dangers of childbirth through Rung and Ratchet. He is scared for Buddy.

He is a part of the unofficial official bodyguard group formed for Buddy.

#transformers #transformers x reader #maccadam #idw mtmte #mtmte x reader #mtmte rung #mtmte nautica #mtmte ambulon #mtmte cyclonus #mtmte skids #human buddy

[panic-in-the-multiverse]

Attachment of a Child [part 1]

Pairings: Obi-Wan Kenobi x child!reader (includes Kit Fisto)

Imagine: one of the children in the Jedi temple seems to have formed an attachment to Obi-Wan and follows him around all over the temple whenever he’s there

Warnings: fluff, Obi-Wan hugs, Obi-Wan taking care of a child (that needs a warning for real), Obi accidentally adopted you, otherwise none, I think, it’s just fluff, Not proofread

A/N I couldn’t stop myself from writing this, it just came to me randomly and I had to write it, I don’t even know if it’s good or not I just had to write it bc just imagine Obi-Wan being followed by a child who copies his movements, that’s so adorable 🥰 <3

If you have any ideas for Obi-Wan x padawan!reader (platonic obviously) please feel free to send them to me, I love writing Obi-Wan x padawan

The first time Obi-Wan had stepped into the room filled with younglings after “defeating” Darth Maul, he wasn’t too surprised when he saw all of the children’s eyes light up. Big eyes stared at him with amazement and wonder, as well as curiosity and excitement.

The now Jedi master had gained some kind of fame with the younglings ever since he became a master and defeated a Sith Lord. Not to say that the children didn’t love him before (they sure did), but now they all seemed to look up to him as some sort of war hero. Look at him for wisdom more so than the other masters, Yoda being the exception.

One youngling in particular had taken a shine to the newly made master. You. Obi-Wan had nothing against you, he quite liked taking care of you from time to time, it was a distraction from all the chaos in the galaxy at the moment. He found it rather calming and he would never say no to teaching anyone something new, especially younglings who had the curiosity that could go on for forever. You were no different from those younglings except you didn’t ask your questions (too shy to do it) but rather listened intently to any information Obi-Wan would tell the class. It was one of the reasons why you loved classes with Master Kenobi. He was calm and could talk for hours and had most of the answers to all of your classmates questions (therefore your questions were answered as well, for the most part).

Nights were often spent with the younglings as he told them one of his many stories from another planet. He lulled them to sleep with his calm voice as he talked about facts he picked up from his reading about the planet, or missions he had with Anakin or his former master. Obi-Wan hadn’t stopped you when you crawled up onto his lap, nor did he stop any other of the younglings as they cuddled into the warmth he radiated to their sleepy forms.

More than one time you had been the child to sit on his lap, for some reason the Master nearly always picked you up and placed you on his lap, or he just let you plant yourself on his lap without a single complaint. He knew he made your anxieties calm down as he let you cuddle into his side. If he could help the younglings in any way, he would to the best of his abilities. He was once one himself after all and knew how the life of a youngling could be. The anxiety that could be brought to any of them at any moment if they failed, the strict rules or the doubt they felt, the rumors of danger. Especially with what everyone knew was an upcoming war and the betrayal of Dooku and the death of Darth Maul. Along with those rumors and facts they were supposed to study and become a future Jedi while not forming attachments and nor were they allowed to act on their emotions, especially the fear and anger that they felt. So yes, Obi-Wan would gladly let you sit on his lap if it helped you calm down while he told you and the other children a story before they were supposed to sleep.

It’s safe to say that it wasn’t uncommon for any one in the temple to see any of the younglings run up to Obi-Wan for help, especially if something troubled them. Nor was it uncommon to see you walking beside the master. Which was what happened today.

Obi-Wan had just walked past the room in which you and your classmates had just finished up your first lesson of the day. Some of the younglings had already rushed out of the room before Master Yoda could even finish his sentence, you were one among them. You had felt Obi-Wan’s force signature and you saw him through the slightly opened door walk past the room and you had sprinted out of the room not willing to lose him in the many halls of the temple. Luckily for you the temple was relatively empty at this time in the morning so it didn’t take you too long to find the brown cloak and his auburn hair among those walking the corridors.

The Jedi Master heard small feet sprint towards him but he made no indication of turning around towards the person or to wait for the child to catch up, he already knew it was you, how could he not, he was way too familiar with your force signature. He knew where you were at any time of the day, your force signature rather strong for a child.

If he had turned around he would have seen that you had mimicked his actions. You put your hand behind your back like he had done, you tried to walk in his pace as well as in the same way he walked. This proved quite hard even if the master had slowed down a tad bit for you as he felt you walking beside him, but the long strides were still too fast for a child to catch up entirely to. Any Jedi master that walked past the two of you thought they saw a mini kenobi as you mimicked his every action, even when he rubbed against his beard (even though you didn’t have beard yourself you still did it)

“Hello Master Kenobi” In watching Obi-Wan and trying to mimic him you had completely forgotten to look at where you were going and so you didn’t notice when Obi-Wan stopped in front of Kit Fisto.

“Hello Master Fisto” Kenobi answered politely, giving a smile back towards Master Fisto who gave his signature charming smile. By the time Obi-Wan said that you had looked up and the Nautolan turned towards you as he noticed you standing next to the jedi master you were still mimicking. He studied you for a second, a puzzled look grazed his future before his smile was back.

“And hello to you too youngling, I see you’ve taken a shine to Master Kenobi” A blush spread itself over your cheeks as you got called out by the Jedi in front of you.

The words stumbled out of you as you quietly said “Hello Master Fisto”.

After the words left you, you hid away behind Kenobi's robes not wanting anyone to see your embarrassed state. To this Obi-Wan, like a natural instinct, put his left arm to shield you. Kit Fisto’s reaction to this was what every jedi had told you and Obi-Wan a lot of times before.

“Be careful with the young one Obi-Wan, they might become a bit too attached to you otherwise”

The master like everyone else knew you were already attached towards the master that you hid behind. He could have stopped it all, right there and then, so could Obi-Wan and the rest of the order, but somehow they allowed it, they let it slide by them, if they didn’t see anything then it wasn’t their problem, and if they saw they opted to ignore it. You were like a bright shining cyber crystal in the temple as you cutely followed the auburn haired master around. And it seemed like everyone needed something bright at the moment, with the darker times that were approaching. No, Kit Fisto wouldn’t be the one to stop your attachment towards the newest member of the council, but what he could do was give a warning. He did not want an innocent child or Obi-Wan to fall, not that either of you would, but he could still give the occasional reminders, like Master Windu seemed to give away way too many times.

You were attached, and nothing would stop that. Obi-Wan noticed when he looked down at you, that you were still mimicking his movements. He gave you a fond smile as he studied your stance. You stood in the same posture as him and frankly you looked like a mini him, not that he complained about it, Obi-Wan found it quite amusing how you seemed to want to act like him any chance you got. Not only was it amusing to him but he found it adorable. But so was the thought of every other person in the Jedi temple who had seen you walk after the Jedi master any chance you got since you got old enough to walk.

#obi wan kenobi x platonic!reader #obi wan kenobi x child!reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x son!reader #obi wan kenobi x gn!reader #obi wan kenobi x daughter!reader #obi wan kenobi x padawan!reader #x padawan!reader #Star Wars x reader #Star Wars #obi-wan kenobi #kit fisto x reader

[probablyspooky]

Traitor (2010 Predator X Fem! Reader) Pt.3 Final

Its Time girly Pops

Last

"Yes love?", you ask, sitting up from your nest of furs and pelts, your mate slowly lowers himself to you.

"We are leaving...", he mumbled, "This trip was not successful, I was wrong to bring you here, I will take you home, and then come back alone when I can get a second chance"

You sighed, cupping your mates face, giving him a gentle kiss on the armored mask.

"Very well," you agreed, getting up from your nest, packing your items and then eventually getting on the ship and taking off back home.

It was a short trip back, you felt back you had ruined the trip by basically getting kidnapped by the game. Berserker could sense your sadness and promised that when you returned back to the clan, he would have a young one go to Earth and bring you back some nice Earth things, so that you could see some of the things that hail from your home planet. You smiled at this thought and proceeded to snuggle into your mates chest as he sat in the command room.

The return home was uneventful, as you were usually allowed to walk around, the first couple weeks home you weren't feeling so well. Often spending your mornings vomiting outside in the bushes, sleeping till noon, and eating weird foods that were even considered odd in yautja culture.

Berserker got quite nervous when you started getting moody, you never seemed to lash out at him, as you were afraid of upsetting him, but now you were a bit more annoyed at his mating advances, often refusing to go along with him on small hunts.

Worried you may have caught a strong virus, he took you to the clans healers, and the news was wonderful.

You were pregnant.

Your mates mandibles clicked with joy, and he purred into you, his claws grazing over your stomach gently, happy with the news he threw together a hunting party and went off into the local wilderness to find the largest animal he could to serve to you, as per tradition (that I made up).

He returned victorious, slaying the beast and presenting its skull and spine to you. It now hangs over the area where you decided to put your younglings sleeping bed.

Eventually as things go, days become weeks, and weeks become months, soon you were very swollen with child, carrying a yautja pup was very hard on your body, as you progressed you slowly began to slow down, not going out to hunt, you stopped doing chores, tending to be on bedrest more often that usual.

One day, while you were in a heated herbal bath, Berserker came in and joined you, causing the water to swish over a bit, he swayed over to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, placing his large hands over your stomach.

"(y/n)", he whispered, taking in a breathe of your hair.

"Yes love?" you ask, turning your head to look at him closer.

"The hunting spot came up again...I wish to go, but I will not go if you find it unacceptable for me to go."

You thought for a moment, as it took so long for him to get the spot for himself the first time, and now here you were ready to pop at any moment. Not wanting to be selfish you agreed that he could go, and that you would be fine.

Watching him, Tusk, and Falcon leave was a little heart breaking, you spent the time alone, thinking of names for the baby, learning to write in their language, and learning how to read their machines, as soon you would have your one communicator bracelet, so that when your mate goes off planet, you could still talk to him while he was gone.

He wasn't gone very long this time, he returned after a few days, you were so happy when you heard the news you waited at the landing dock for him to return. When those ship doors opened, you saw him walk off full of pride, new trophies tied to his belt, mostly human, perhaps he had hunted those humans from before. You ran into his arms, and he hugged you back, taking you up from under your legs, holding you up with his great strength.

"Was the hunt honorable?", you asked, feeling his dreads with your hands.

He carried you back to his home.

"I have many trophies to give to you my mate," he purred, leaving Tusk and Falcon to unload the ship.

But with their arrival back, Tusk and Falcon were sought out by other yautja women, and left the ship unattended, not knowing of what they brought back with them to their home planet.

While the darkness of night overtook the sky, two people stepped off planet, truing not to be scene by the lights coming off of the ship, they quickly scurried to the Jungle Hunters Clan. Taking note of the buildings, they looked around for anyone that would be out of place, something that wouldn't be needed by full blood yautja.

These two humans who have stepped off the ship, were familiar faces that had met you before. Isabelle and Royce, they had snuck onto the ship while your mate was hunting the others, Edwin and Nikolai did not make it, but they did not seem, bothered all that much, their minds were preferably stuck on their own survival.

Quickly scanning the many homes, their eyes landed on the ones that had a set of very small shoes sat outside the door, feet too small for yautja, but big enough for an adult to wear outside to cover the soles of their feet from the spikey ground.

The two of them walked up to the door, and gently pushed it in, not having locks on doors were often common on this planet, as it was dishonorable to attack someone while they were asleep. It was a code of like that many did not dare to cross, as it would bring dishonor upon themselves and their clans.

Walking throughout the halls of the place you called home, Isabelle and Royce walked through the kitchen rea, taking note of the abundance of fruit and veggies, often things yautja do not eat frequently, then walking past a living area where they saw a CD player and some discs of random artists.

"She's definitely here.." Royce whispered, continuing the sweep of the house, his eyes landing on the back room, which its doorway was covered with a large cloth.

Royce took a few moments to sneak up to the curtain, slowly pupping it back. In the middle of the room he could see the floating nest where Berserker and you slept. The two forms sleeping away peacefully on the bed, you curled up in his arms, while his limbs danged off the sides of the nest, hovering in the air.

Royce raised his hand above your mouth about to wake you up and smother your gasp, but Isabelle quickly ran up and stopped him

"What?", he whispered, annoyed that he was stopped.

"Look at her!" Isabelle, gestured to your body, "She's pregnant! This isn't a good idea"

Royce rolled his eyes, going back to his original plans, smothering his hand over your mouth and then tapping you awake.

You jolted awake, about to scream, but you felt a warm hand covers your mouth. You looked over to the owner of the hands owner, you felt tears sting your eyes, realizing the possible predicaments you were in.

Royce signals to you to come on, and slowly eases you off the bed, and out of your mates arms, trying not to wake up, and then sneaking you out of your home, Royce dragged you to the ship and shoved you towards it, pointing a pistol at you.

"Fly us home." he ordered, pointing the gun at you,

"I do-I don't know how to fly," you stammered

"Bullshit" he snarled, pushing you inside the ship and then forcing you into the pilots seat.

You felt uneasy as you were placed in the captains chair, the familiar hologram screen appearing before you, you slowly began to type into the control console, hitting enter.

Royce looked at you expectantly, watching you push buttons with symbols that didn't make sense to him at all, watching you hit the enter key, hoping that soon the ship would take off and they would be on their way way home. Yet nothing happened.

"What the hell was that?" he yelled, shoving your shoulder

"I don't know how to fly!" you cried,

"Royce, c'mon" Isabelle remarked, placing hand on your shoulder

Royce stomped back and forth, and looking out the open door of the ship, he began to see lights turn on, as yautja began to run towards the ship, his brain clicked.

Grabbing you by the hair, he dragged you to the front of the doors and threw you on the ground, you fell to the ground shielding your stomach from the fall.

"She fucking alerted them" Royce growled, pointing the pistol at the back of your head.

You looked up to see Berserker run at you, behind him Tusk and Falcon followed, along with other blooded members of the tribe.

Royce fired a warning shot a few inches away from your head, forcing all the yautja to stop in their tracks.

"Fucking traitor to your race," Royce spit at you, looking up at the yautja who were staring him down.

"I want to go home!," he shouted, "If I don't get to go home, neither does she"

You half expected for Berserker to have some sort of plan in dealing with this, but instead he slowly popped off his armored helmet, dropped his utilities belt, and walked up slowly towards the three of you. Isabelle had her gun pointed at your mate the whole time.

Clicking can be heard coming from your mates mandibles, as he pointed towards the captains chair, he calmly walked onto the ship, and silently typed on the keyboard, the rumbling of the ship started, indicating it was taking off.

Berserker then walked back, and picked you up slowly, not taking his eyes off of Royce and Isabelle. The ships door began to slowly shut, and since their window was closing, the two of them quickly hopped aboard the ship, and it slowly made its way off of the ground, and then eventually was floating through the air. Its thrusters slowly increasing in power.

As the thrusters began to glow a bright orange, your mate held his arm out in front of you, a single symbol was on his wrist brand, you looked at him and then at the ship. Smiling while doing so, you pushed the button, and together you watched the ship prepare are for takeoff, and then self detonate in the sky.

The clan erupted with roars and growls, chanting at the death of these humans who dared try and hold you hostage on their turf.

A part of you felt bad, you had just murdered the nicest human you've ever known, the first few humans you had met who had actually been to earth. Maybe you were a traitor to your race, but you were reassured, as the next days you found yourself in labor, and after that, you held close to your chest a small suckling, who was identical to his father.

Having his wrapped to your chest constantly apparently was a weird sight, as most mother of yautja did not care for their children the same way you did, but you didn't care, as your instincts were different, you were different.

He was the Berserker predator, and you his mate, the two of you from different sides of the planet.

One a grand warrior to his people and his race, and the other a loving mother, traitor to hers.

They were happy

I don't know what else to put here

#predator #predator x reader #yautja

[tommysversion]

After watching the season finale, I’m just imagining domestic din 🥲🥲 i can imagine him falling for grogus teacher, at the school he goes to when he’s not on missions with din. especially seeing how nurturing and caring she is with him. And they live happily together as a clan of three ( maybe more 👀)

Yessss oml how cute ???

He doesn’t expect much to come out of sending the kid to school, but he’s not so arrogant as to think he can teach him everything.

Sure, he can teach Grogu how to be a Mandalorian. How to fight, how to navigate, how to negotiate. He can tell him stories and legends from their culture, but at the end of the day, he’s probably not the best one to teach the kid how to read, write, and do math.

Not like he can’t, but he just doesn’t have the patience. Besides, it’ll be good for the kid to go to school. Make some friends. He’s still only learning how to talk, but maybe that’ll come with socialising with someone besides Din, who, let’s be honest, isn’t the most talkative of people.

Navarro has a school. Two, in fact, with the population increase. One for the younger kids, one for the older. The younger kids learn their letters, how to read, math, geography. They play sport in the courtyard and make wooden swords to play with in arts class. The older kids study history, maps, languages. Some take apprenticeships as blacksmiths or mechanics.

Honestly, Din isn’t sure what to make of it. His own education was spotty, taught by older members of the clan. He never had a formal education as such, so he doesn’t know what to expect of someone who makes educating younglings their profession.

He certainly doesn’t expect someone like you, who’s so patient and kind. While taken aback at first, he finds himself watching you. Noticing little things. How you don’t chastise the children who are a little louder, a little different. How you make time for each and every child under your care, treating them all as though they’re special, all equal.

Maybe he was a little worried Grogu wouldn’t receive that same kindness. He knows his son is different, in a variety of ways.

It doesn’t seem to bother you; you find a way to communicate, to understand the kid even though it’s difficult. Once he’s worked out his letters, you give him a little datapad to input words into, and it speaks for him. It’s limited - Grogu can only learn so fast, and he’s still very young - but basic phrases are still giant leaps.

With the help of his data pad, Grogu can introduce himself, say yes, no, please and thank you. The other kids stop being wary of him and invite him to play with them. It’s kind of cute, actually, watching a group of five year old human kids and Grogu playing some sort of ball game. One day Din shows up to collect him and they’re finger painting together, Grogu and a little boy and a little girl.

You just smile at him as he walks in, put their picture on the wall to dry.

“We learned a new word today.” You tell him, and Grogu taps his datapad.

“Hello, dad.” The artificial voice says.

While he’s still wearing his helmet, behind it, Din smiles.

It’s almost inevitable that he falls for you. Inevitable that you reciprocate. You’re bonded by caring for the same small, strange child who endears everyone to him.

When he asks you to live with them, he’s nervous. Expects you to refuse. Is elated when you say yes.

Once you’ve moved into the little house, the walls decorated with paintings Grogu has done with his friends, you’re standing outside together, watching the kid play in the shallow water nearby.

When he turns to you, hands on your waist, and you in turn go to hesitantly remove his helmet, he doesn’t stop you. He lets you, lets you set it aside before he leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

What was once a clan of two officially becomes a clan of three, and honestly? He’s never been happier.

#answered #my writing #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #Grogu #the mandalorian x reader

[phoeebsbuffay]

Imagine you and General Skywalker are roommates. 🤭😏

Warnings: smut & fluff, drama; rom-com vibes—i tried anyways.

Warnings 2: no minors.

Recommendations: “Die For You” (the version with Ariana Grande); “The Love We Had Stays On My Mind” (Joss Stone).

***

• How it started…

You and Anakin first met when both of you were younglings. He wasn’t the kindest in the room, but you were. In this particular case, opposites did attract one another. Thus you soon kindled.

“I can’t believe you are dragging me to this picnic”, the young boy was grumbling as you had this idea of eating outdoors: a suggestion of making it a form to practice the Force was promptly accepted and encouraged by your Master.

“Must you complain all the time?”, you giggle at him.

Anakin’s blue eyes are glued in your y/c hair, tangled in a simple braid; your y/c skin, so smooth and shiny; your y/c eyes…how much fondness he sees in those irises. Why, yes. He knows you care for him, a sentiment he cannot compare yet to what that Lady Angel named Padmé brought to him, but even so.

“Yes, since I cannot refuse you anything”, he blurted out without second thoughts.

Simple as that. But this was how it began: a friendship with different shades, painting a variety of possibilities that would yet be played out.

***

• Twilight of adolescence.

You are so concentrated in your meditation that you don’t realize Anakin’s eyes are stuck in how serene you look. He is mesmerized at how easily you do it, though partially envious because, unlike him, you are calm.

But his thoughts unbalance you. Thus you open your eyes and smirk at him:

“Do you conveniently forget that I can read your thoughts?”

“Maybe”, he smirks back. “I mean how the hell do you do it effortlessly? Frankly, my dear Y/N, there must be a trick.”

You scoff at his wording.

“Please, Ani. You speak as if you don’t regularly overpower me in our trainings.”

He takes a seat next to your side, glancing at you with amusement behind his eyes. He is wearing that Padawan braid you are so familiar with, having one yourself tied in a lock of your hair.

“You underestimate yourself a little too much”, Anakin slightly shoulders you. “Remember when you knocked me down?”

“That was only because you got yourself thinking a little too much about the pretty Senator”, you tease him, shouldering him back.

Both of you giggle at the memory.

“What happened to her anyways?”, you ask him. “I thought you were having a thing?”

Anakin’s smirk is wiped out of his face, but what concerns you is the gloom that eclipses the brightness of his face.

“She is, let’s just say, unreachable.”

“I’m sorry, Ani”, you whisper, aware how he came to love her. “I truly am.”

Uncomfortable with such a topic, but maybe because, unbeknownst to you, he’s been trapped in a confusing web he wove where there had been no space for anyone but Padmé Amiadala until your smiles, gentlenesses and every virtue you’ve been praised for, got him.

Hence why the moody Anakin storms out and leaves you there, guilty and upset for being the one to send away such a gleeful moment.

But such torment soon ends. Anakin comes for you later the same day in order to apologize for being so rude. He is baffled by how easily you forgive him, and when you promptly hold him—tighter than usual—he realizes friendship is not enough.

How long, however, will it take for him to tell you how feels?

Worst, how much longer will you be able to hold your feelings for yourself?

Only time will tell…

***

• Early adulthood.

You have just returned from Aldeeran when master H/N assigns you a mission next to your long time friend Anakin, now known as General Skywalker.

As much as you’ve been pleased to follow his path as a rising star, becoming good friends with the sweet Ahsoka, you have caught a glimpse of something deeper and which concerns you. But you wait before you have the opportunity to discuss this properly.

“Hey Y/Nickname”, he greets you warmly, although something about his eyes gives you chills. “What’s up? It’s been a long time!”

You decide to knock whatever tension there’s been between the two of you with an embrace. But when breathing his scent by burying your head against his neck, your heart skips a beat and your mental defenses are melted.

Anakin, caught off guard by your kind gesture—something he’s barely seen these days—, finds himself slightly emotional… until he has the opportunity to find out at long last that you feel for him what he feels for you.

This is a discovery that mixes his feelings. It fuels his impulsivity at the same time that gives a bittersweet flavor to know the years that have been wasted. Adding to that there is the factor that Anakin has been growing distasted to the Jedi Order.

So much to be felt by the intense Jedi. But nothing gives him more joy than knowing you love him as much as he loves you. However… a question is silently posed in the back of his mind: how can he tell you how he feels?

As one reluctantly untangles from the other, you are quick to break the silence.

“I have some good news! Master H/N wants us to work together at Mandalore! Our first mission, General Skywalker”, you tease him, pleased to see you are still able to make him laugh. “I pray not to disappoint you, sir”, you add a not very graceful curtsy to your speech.

He notices today your y/c hair is loose and messy. It gives him naughty ideas, but Anakin struggles to compose himself. Instead, he places one hand over your shoulder and says:

“When have your ever disappointed me, Y/N? What nonsense you speak of”, he side smirks at you.

But every sweet moment dies when two Masters come along. Windu is followed by Obi-Wan Kenobi and the look on their countenances is not indicating any sign of pleasantness. You also notice the tension in Anakin’s shoulders. To worse, has he started to wear darker robes? A thought that displeases you internally.

“General Skywalker and Jedi Y/LN, the Council greets you well”, he speaks formally and both you and Anakin acknowledge the gesture by nodding your heads. “I’ve come to deliver the follow instructions concerning Mandalore. Be aware that even though you may be roommates for the occasion, you must not…”

And here he starts to scowl. But you haven’t been paying attention after that small word stuck inside your head.

Roommates?

Me and Anakin?

You side eye discreetly to your long time friend in search of anything that could give away whether he felt repulse or something you hope to be the opposite of it, but to your disappointment there is nothing to find.

You must calm your nerves, you decide. Being no longer a teenager, you remind yourself that you must not form any romantic attachment… especially where your best friend is concerned.

***

• Roommates, it is!

“You are too quiet, Y/Nickname”, Anakin says whilst piloting to Mandalore. “This is the moment where you shout at me for almost making you sick.”

You smirk, albeit unwillingly.

“I am often quiet. I usually leave the babbling for you”, so you retort.

He chuckles.

“No, you are nervous because Mace Windu himself told you that we’d be roommates. But I believe you took this a literal meaning, darling. We are piloting together and getting into the room of the thing we are meant to destroy”, Anakin explains with a hint of amusement that brings you to annoyance.

“And you never cared to let this clear?”

“Absolutely not”, Anakin smirks with that characteristically smug look on his face. “It’s so much fun when you are angry with me. But besides I do think we are sharing one room at the Duchess’s palace. Don’t forget you are going disguised.”

You avoid his gaze, face completely red.

“It’s all very confusing.”

By the time you are landing, Anakin smirks again at you before the remark that would get you redder—if possible:

“What’s so confusing? Sharing a bed with me shouldn’t be so bad, should it?”

“I hate you, Anakin Skywalker”, It’s all you manage to respond.

*

There is a ball going on to welcome some of the Mandalorian’s allies. Whilst Anakin is there to represent the Senate, you are disguised as the lady of Planet Y/C. The moment you show up with your hair y/c hanging loose in your back, dressed in green, Anakin’s eyes go slightly wide.

He is about to make a joke (“Aren’t you showing some cleavage?”), but in truth he drinks from the view. Anakin realizes he’s been delaying so long the moment between you two. He wants to discover every bit of you, wondering what would be like to kiss you, to make you a puddle of a mess…

“Why are you looking at me like that?”, you interrupt him, sounding more nervous than you’d care to admit.

“You look gorgeous, Y/N”, he takes your hand and there presses a soft kiss, taking pleasure in noticing the goosebumps on your skin and the struggle behind your eyes.

He’d definitely kiss you… had you both not been rudely interrupted by no other than C3-P0 informing the feast is ready and you are expected to be met by the duchess soon.

“And here I go”, you say rather awkwardly.

“You’ll be fine. To be honest, you fit more in damsel roles than otherwise”, Anakin says in a teasing tone.

You stick out your tongue.

“If that is your way to compliment me, am I supposed to thank you?”

“You’re welcome”, says he, bringing you out to laughters, which pleases him quite so.

It occurs you, albeit a little too late, to finally unburden your heart by venting your thoughts.

“Ani, I must…”, you are about to tell him when, once again, you are interrupted.

To your dismay, and Anakin’s consternation, the moment where every wall is about to be knocked down is delayed. Again.

*

He watches as you get the attention of every being there present at the feast. And Anakin grows possessive at each gaze that follows your moves.

Maybe there is a risk of ruining this mission, but the General cares little about it. He must have you, he must tell you how ardently he loves you, how…

“Lady Y/N”, he gets to you discreetly, in a nonchalant posture when he’s burning inside. “May I have a word with you?”

You cast him a suspicious look at him: didn’t you two agree the time to speak would occur later?

But regally you smile and, playing your role, grant him your hand.

“Of course, General. What’s it?”

“I am not feeling very well”, Anakin’s anxiety breaks in.

“Oh”, you promptly leave your disguise off. “Let us go back to the quarters then. I may have something.”

Perhaps in private this will come out better, Anakin hopes in silence. He agrees, watching as you forget discretion when taking his hand, locking fingers with you, as you lead the way.

It appears that no one notices your absence—or maybe you and Anakin used the Jedi trick to make it seem so. Regardless, once you and him are back to your quarters, you finally realize he’s about to explode.

“Ani…”

“You must allow me to express how I feel”, he rushes to you, cupping your face with both hands. “I love you, Y/N Y/LN. I have loved you for a long time and I cannot waste my days and night away thinking about the possibilities of being more than your friend and Jedi mate. I must know… Please tell me how you feel, for I shall not nurture if…”

You smile in relief and seeing the confusion stamped in his face, you make all clear by locking your lips against his in a soft kiss.

Little by little, however, the kiss deepens, but because there is some uncertainty in what direction should it go, you and Anakin part it—albeit reluctantly.

“Well, roomie, looks like we are finally free of this weight”, he muses it, eyeing you with such devotion that your knees go weak.

You giggle softly, watching with the same sentiment as he rests his cheek against your cheek. Your heart races at this moment.

“It’s too late to go back now”, you smile at him. “Are you sure you don’t want to return to Senator Amidala’s arms?”

Anakin rolls his eyes at your provocation.

“Really now, Y/N?”

“I just had to be sure”, you say it playfully, but Anakin can see through your jest the shadow of old insecurities.

Resting his forehead against yours, he snakes his arms around your waist.

“There is only one woman in my life. I lament it took me years to see it, but the only woman I truly and passionately love is you, Y/N Y/LN. There is no space whatsoever for anybody else.”

To reassure you, the General kisses you passionately this time to prove his point.

***

• ‘The Love We Have…’

You are restless this evening. Although you had claimed earlier that a fatigue led you to an unbearable migraine, your body is protesting against the absence of your lover.

Anakin has been occupied at Mandalore’s Moon, there dealing with a group of people that are perceived by many as terrorists, all the whilst you’ve been carried to other parts of Mandalore on behalf of Duchess Satine herself.

Now you are back and you are aching for him. A desperation that burns your legs and rises in further protestation within your heart, there causing a riot you cannot shut.

Well, there might be a solution for this problem… and the idea makes you blush. You cannot divert from it, as much as it gives you embarrassment. But it’s been too much to handle. Besides, you could always use the Force…

Unaware Anakin is coming, he too possessed by the same urge, you toss away the blankets and let the moonlight come through the partially open curtain. You’ve always felt like you belonged to the nights anyway…

You close your eyes, ready to meditate. Your mind anxiously begins to trace his features, his blue eyes, his muscles… his physique, his smile. Oh how he smiles at you like that often made you wet in between your legs, as it’s doing now.

You are short breath, never having experience to touch yourself. You always had second thoughts about it, besides Anakin usually did a great job. But he’s not there and the mere reminder fuels your frustration.

However, concentrated you are in such a struggle you barely hear the door opening. You don’t see that Anakin comes from the shadows with the look of a hunter: he’s been sensing you, every thought, every sentiment that runs within, from afar.

A sly smirk pops in the corner of the Jedi’s lips as he steps silently so he doesn’t ruin your moment. Anakin is already rigid in his pants just by hearing your unspoken thoughts. He removes his shirt in a synchronized gesture with you, as you do the same.

Completely bare, he, however, refuses to release the pressure on himself. He wants you, he wants to be the one to lead you there—yes, Anakin knows he’s possessive and egoistic towards you, but he’s also been aware that these traits you not only accept, but enjoy secretively.

“My love”, he whispers as soon as he locates himself behind you, arms around your waist; a smirk twists to a smile when seeing the effect he still has on you. “Have you missed me?”

You freeze upon his words. Your stunned silence is a positive indication of your distrust that this is the real him. Anakin further smiles, his hands running up and down your arms.

“You haven’t forgotten me, have you?”, he mumbles against your ear, bitting your earlobe gently. “Have you, my darling?”

Hungry for his touch, you lean back and pursuit his lips. As he corresponds you passionately, Anakin wraps one hand around your neck all the whilst he uses the other to cup your right breast.

“Hmmm”, he gently groans under his breath when feeling how easily he makes your nipple hardening under his touch. “I’ve missed you, darling.”

“Ani!”, you gasp in full pleasure, your body already giving in to his sweet, skillful hands. “I beg you!”

“Is my princess begging now?”, his husky voice makes you wet and he pompously watches as you rub one leg to the other. “Have I turned such a powerful Jedi in a beggar?”

You enjoy being easily overpowered by him, how he uses that dark side you know so well to your favour. But your mind stops retracing your thoughts for you go absolutely insane as he kisses your neck and now releases the hand around your neck to play with your left breast.

“I-I am, yes! I am, Master!”, you cry out, already unbearably soaked. “Don’t tease further, you know I’ve missed you…”

You arch your back the moment his fingers twirl your nipples, caressing each slowly, yes, but passionately too. His eyes are glued in your reactions: aware of how to tease you, how to make you come undone to him, Anakin is aroused at the idea of your submission. You promptly submit to him and he realizes he loves when you beg.

But more than that, he loves you.

“Let me sooth your needs, darling”, so the General says when slipping his right hand into your feminine core. And finally, he slides one finger into you. “Fuck! So damn wet for me?”

You cast him a lustful gaze, transmitting every indecent thought that he seeded with his departure. Anakin laughs quietly as he captures it, kissing you slowly as he teases you.

“My angel, you and I shall not be merely roomies. No, no”, he vows, watching as you smirk under his pleasantries. “Oh you like that, don’t you?”

Anakin gives small bites against your skin as he now inserts another finger. He takes his time there and when sensing your climax, the Jedi then carefully moves on top of you after lying you down gently—without stopping pleasing you.

“Yes, my love. Come to me”, the Jedi encourages you softly, smiling down at you as you arch your back and enlace him with your legs, all the whilst leaning to kiss his lips fervently.

But this is only the beginning.

*

As much as you enjoying riding him, you prefer when he’s on top of you, being the bossy man he is. Your lips curl on a sly smirk when there is no need to speak it out as one understands the other perfectly well.

“You play the difficult one outside, but damn here you submit easily, uh?”, Anakin teases you, slowly moving inside you, locking hands with you above your head.

“I hate how you know me so damn well”, you growl under your breath.

“Darling, hate is not the Jedi way”, Anakin smirks, getting yourself a smile before he kisses you passionately.

Leaving lust aside, this is the moment where one soul intimately links the other as the bodies connect. Anakin is careful with you, watchful at every reaction he evokes on you.

And you as well. You want him desperately so, every part of him, you don’t want to let go of him. To feel his manhood right where you want him to is just…

So…

Damn…

Good.

Perfection, indeed.

“Ani”, you moan loudly, already feeling the waves of pleasure you gladly prepare to drown into.

“Yes, Y/Nickname?”, he groans softly at each thrust, him too not far from you.

“I love you”, you gasp.

“I love you too”, he whispers back, before going down to your skin with his tongue, taking his time in every bit of you.

Soon, the whispers turn into screams and every intensity rests ashore.

***

• New Beginnings.

When the mission in Mandalore is complete, you and Anakin are expected to go back to Coruscant. However, before doing that, Anakin leads you to planet Y/C, where you and him are secretly married.

“We are husband and wife now”, you remark blissfully. “Who’d ever thought we came this far?!”

“I would”, so says Anakin, side smirking at you.

“There was a Senator that could have taken my place, though…”, you tease, earning him an eye roll.

“Come here, silly head.”

He pulls you close, mesmerized by how shiny your eyes are, transmitting every bit of happiness when you look at him.

“I love you”, says your husband, smiling when seeing you blush. “There has only been you, Mrs Skywalker. As it will be.”

“It better be. I love you too, Mr Skywalker.”

Between giggles, you two share a kiss, spotting a very bright future ahead of you…

#star wars #star wars imagine #anakin skywalker #imagine star wars #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin skywalker x you #Anakin Skywalker x female reader #Anakin Skywalker smut

[angel-of-the-moons]

A Rose Under the Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc/Steven/Jake) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Domestic violence mentions, hints at child abuse, child abuse mentions violence, phantom pains

MINORS DNI: I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Again, none of this is beta read. We die like the younglings Anakin snuffed in the Jedi Temple

Taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @shirukitsune @bad4amficideas

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Chapter 3:

The Victims

You sighed, checking the little egg timer in your apron pocket to see how long until the scones you were baking had left in the oven. Fifteen minutes. Ugh.

It had been a few days since Steven had come in and purchased his pillar of books. The two of you would make small talk, him thumbing through books and rambling about a subject on ancient Egypt that he knew. The moment you brought up your own obscure facts you have memorized from the things your father would read to you as a little girl, Steven’s eyes lit up and he got the biggest grin on his face, and launched himself headlong into info-dump mode. It was kinda cute, really, how excitable he got. You could tell the poor guy probably didn’t have many friends, aside from his brothers, whom he’d told you about, and a friend named Layla. You also found it endearing how his messy, bed-raggled curls would flop over his face, or how animated he’d seem when he would interrupt himself to bring up another fun fact…

But, it had been a day or two since he’d come in last. And to be honest, you kinda miss the guy. He was probably the nicest most engaging customer you had. He even admitted that he didn’t come in just for the books. He told you he liked your teas and treats, and he loved the comfortable atmosphere of your shop over a crowded cafe. But one day, he just had to ask:

“I’ve been meaning to ask…” He started, looking at the muffin in his hand.

“Hm?” You hummed as you stocked shelves.

“Are these… vegan?” He seemed hesitant to touch the muffine now, as if it were poisoned.

You giggle softly. “Yes, actually. I try to use recipes that everyone can enjoy. Vegan, gluten-free…”

“Oh! Wonderful!” He scarfed the muffin down rather quickly after that, his nose buried in the textbook on archaeology he had in his hands.

You set your phone down as you sipped your spiced tea. It was a rather cold and gloomy day today, not uncommon this late in the year, but still, it sucked. It reminded you of where you grew up in Maine, off the coast. Storms blew in all the time, you’d remember as a little girl getting up in the morning, wanting to run outside and play, just to be met with a dark and angry sky, blistering winds, and pelting rain.

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Your poor little six-year-old heart was crushed one day when a particularly bad squall blew into town, and you were trapped within the confines of your house, arms crossed, feet firmly planted as you glared out the window, lip wobbling.

How dare the weather ruin your plans for the day? You were going to play in your treehouse! Now the stupid wind was gonna blow it away! And if it did, your father would have to build another one, and that would take forever!

“Hey, there, Lil’ Bit.” Your dad said, kneeling behind you, as you stubbornly looked out the window in a seething rage. So, so angry for a little girl. You inherited your temper from your mother, surely. Though you personally never saw her mad, of course. Ever. But then again, she worked so much…

Your mom was what your dad told you was a “breadwinner”, which was a term you found dumb. You mom never entered contests and she certainly never won bread as a prize. It was so dumb! Why did adults have to use such dumb words for things?

“Hey, kiddo.” Your dad sang, leaning forward from where he was crouched to put his chin on your tiny shoulder.

“No, daddy, ‘m angy.” You mumbled, trying to shrug him off as lightning flashed in the distance.

He chuckled, his voice warm, much like your favorite pair of fuzzy socks after they were just taken out of the dryer. “Come on, princess. It’ll pass. They always do.”

“But why did it have t’ do it today!” You whined, not budging.

“Dunno, kid. The sky just felt like dumping buckets, I guess.” He said, humoring you.

“Daddy...” You groaned, rolling your eyes. “Clouds don’t use buckets!”

“Sure they do!” He grinned, waggling his eyebrows at you. “You just never see em!”

“You’re silly.” You scoff.

“You’re silly!” Your dad laughed, scooping you up and spinning you around, finally getting a smile out of you as you shriek in laughter.

He tucked you against his chest and kissed you on your forehead. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s get you some sna–”

His eyes went wide and he gasped when you writhed, crying out and wincing like you’d just been struck.

“Babygirl, what’s wrong?” He asked, hurriedly sitting you on the couch as you curled in on yourself. He could see the welts start to peek out from beneath the sleeves of your little pink shirt.

It was happening again.

The pain in his heart gripped him like ice, knowing he couldn’t do anything to ease the pain his daughter was feeling. His poor, poor baby girl, whose soulmate was constantly being inflicted with whatever horrors they faced with.

He would curse it, sometimes. Your mark. Your bond. You were already enduring abuse that wasn’t directed at you. Or maybe it was in a way… Given that it was happening to your other half. Who you would one day meet. Maybe things will be better, when you had. Maybe.

But one thing was for sure, he hated whomever was inflicting those injuries on your soulmate more. Not only were they hurting your soulmate, they were hurting you. He’d imagined that you were close in age. If so, who the hell would abuse a child in such a way? The concept was completely foreign to him.

He rubbed your back, murmuring sweet and loving things to you.

He noticed something odd about your mark about a few years ago, right when the welts and bruises started to show and you would recoil in phantom pain... There was a new addition to your mark. At first it was one crescent moon. But then one became two, and two became three.

Right now, the bottom right moon was full.

He wasn’t sure what it meant… But he noticed your crying slow to soft little hiccups and sniffles as you sit up, rubbing your eyes.

He rested his forehead against yours. “It’ll be okay, sweetheart. I promise.”

“I jus’ wanna know why it hurts so much, daddy.” You sniffle.

“Trust me, I know. Me and your mom are similar. I remember when we were kids, before we met… She fell from a tree and broke her leg. Man, it hurt so bad…”

You looked up at him, your big beautiful eyes glistened with tears. Your mother’s eyes. Little gems of hers that you would always have.

“Really?” You peeped.

“Really.” He stood and walked over to the bookshelf above the living room fireplace, and plucked a book off of it. He turned back to you and sat next to you, pulling you into his lap and kissing the top of your head.

“This book came from your great auntie over in London. You remember her, yeah?” He hummed.

Your fingers grazed the cover, old and worn, obviously well-read and well-loved. It had a picture of a woman with wings and a pretty dress on it. You couldn’t read the other words on it just yet, you were still learning how to read the bigger ones.

“Want me to read you some of the stories in it?” He inquired.

“Uh-huh.” You nod.

Your father flipped the pages open, and hummed again, softer.

“Now, let’s start with the tale of Isis and the Seven Scorpions…”

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You jumped, almost dropping the egg timer you had in your hand when your shop’s door dinged and swung open. A frantic young woman rushed inside, her sunken and baggy eyes looking at you, wide with fright.

You skipped the usual welcome and regarded her with a confused expression.

“I… Can I help you–”

“Please, I just need to–to hide!” She said, rushing over to you and gripping your hand, pulling you behind her and further into the winding shelves that made up your bookstore.

“Hey, Hey.” You say, putting your hands on her shoulders. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“My–my boyfriend. He… He’s… I messed up and burned lunch and…” She looked to the side trying to check if he somehow didn’t materialize out of thin air over her shoulder when she wasn’t looking; and when she did… you saw them.

The already darkening bruises on her delicate throat.

Immediately you went into protector mode. You gently urge her towards the door leading to the stairwell that went up to your flat above.

“You hide up there, and call 999, okay?” You say to her. “You can stay here until the police arrive. If it makes you feel safer, there’s a deadbolt to the door up there. If your boyfriend comes in I’ll act like I didn’t see anything.”

You rush to the oven when you hear the timer go off, and pull out the scones (after slipping on your mitts), when the bell to your store dings.

You curse under your breath and say to the girl quietly. “Stay quiet, honey. I’ll be up when the police get here.”

You carefully slip the tasty treats onto a plastic tray and toss the pan into the sink with a clang; instantly regretting it when the young woman flinched and curled into herself, her arms instinctively reaching to cover her head.

You muttered and apology and balanced the pan on your hand as you hastily make your way down the stairs, to see whomever was incessantly dinging your “ring me!” button at the register.

When you finally break free of the labyrinthine bookshelves, you spot a rather large and angry looking man.

This had to be the boyfriend.

“Hello, one moment, please.” You say tersely, sliding the scones into the small display case showcasing the fresh treats of the day.

“Oi, you seen somebody come in here?” He demanded gruffly.

You take another visual sweep of his appearance. Rather big build, probably abuses the gym too much. He looks like he exclusively dines on protein shakes more than food… He could be trouble, if he got violent. The only upside is that you knew the layout of your little shop by heart, he didn’t. You really wished you had a gun under the counter, right about now.

You made a mental note to sign up for the courses and get the certificate from the police..

“Other than you, no, you’d be my first customer of the day.” You force the cheer into your tone as you bring a box of books and begin to half-assedly place them, hoping to look normal.

“Ain’t no fuckin’ customer.” He growled. “Don’ want no books.”

“Well, I also offer a variety of coffees, teas, and snacks–”

“I ain’t no fuckin’ customer!” He barked, getting in your face.

You could smell the alcohol on his breath. That explains the slurred speech.

“Sir, I’m gonna have to ask that you please back away, you’re a little too close…” You say, your hands up in a submissive gesture, hoping to appear as non-threatening as possible.

"Does it look like I giv' a fuck? Ya fuckin' muppet?" He hissed at you, his eyes dilated and glassy.

"Look, I don't want to cause trouble, but–"

He seized your arm and gripped it painfully tight, you could feel the crunch of your radiocarpal joint being squeezed under his rough and indelicate fingers. "Did ya hear me, ya fuckin' cunt? I'm lookin' for my girl, I know she came in here! Don't lie t' me!"

"Sir, people come into my store all the time, and it's not really my business why unless they buy a book or a muffin. Let me go!" You retort, trying to pry his fingers from around you with your free hand.

"Shut th' fuck up!" He snarled, pushing you back against the bookshelf so hard the back of your head cracked on one of the shelves. Great, another pain.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" An unmistakably American accent called from the door of your shop.

How had you missed the bell? How did you not notice the sound of the door opening?

The drunken man holding you turned, still gripping you. "Great, another fuckin' yank? Can't you fucks stick to ya own country?"

You felt your pulse quicken, and your eyes widened at the man who stood in the door; dark, honey-tinted eyes aflame with anger. But the man the eyes belonged to?

Dead ringer for Steven. But he carried himself entirely differently, he even had his hair styled back in a different way. He wore a white hoodie, faded blue jeans, and some steel-toe boots.

"None o' ya fuckin' busniess, you dick." The man sneered, looking back down at you.

"It is if you're hurting the lady." He said gruffly.

"Oi, you got a listening problem?"

The man turned again, but he was met with the knuckles of the American man who just came to your aid; straight to his jaw, knocking him back against a cart you had full of discount books, sending them to the floor with a clatter.

The man cracked his knuckles, before gently grabbing you by the shoulder and moving you behind him for cover.

At this distance you could just barely catch a whiff of sandalwood and some kind of spice. A hint of aftershave wafted into your senses in accompany.

"You fuckin' dick!" The man grunted, shaking his head in an attempt to reorient his brain.

"You need a better repertoire of insults, buddy. Or stop hitting the sauce." The other man sneered. "Probably both."

The drunk lunged at him, and this guy was one step ahead, intercepting him by grabbing his wrists.

The crunch of bone was enough to make you squeeze your eyes shut, and when you dared to peek again, the drunk was clutching at his now bleeding and broken nose. Your savior on the other hand?

Barely broke a sweat. He headbutted him with the hardest part of his head, crunching bone and cartilage.

"Stay down, asshole." He growled. You spun on your heels to look at the door when two clothed officers came in, hands on their pepper spray.

"Everybody just calm down!" One of them shouted.

Ugh. Now you had a headache…

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

By the time the officers, the battered girl, and her boyfriend all left, it was just you and your knight in shining hoodie. Who looked way too much like Steven.

You sat him down at one of the reading nooks and shakily wring your hands out to calm down. "Uh… Yeah, so…" You try.

"My name's Marc. Marc Spector." He said. "You, uh… met my brother, already. Steven."

You gasp. "The heathen!"

He choked out a startled laugh. "What?"

"Oh! Uhhhhhh…" You clear your throat awkwardly trying to change the subject. "You and Steven have different last names!"

Marc huffed through his nose. "It's uh… a long story."

"What, were you guys separated at birth or something? He speaks with a typical Londoner accent, you're full-blown American." You smile.

"Or something." Marc murmured, unable to meet your eyes.

"God, and Steven and I joked about my life being a setup for a book." You giggle softly. "You guys sound like you're straight out of a Dickens novel!"

Marc kind of squirmed in his seat. "Yeah…"

"So, uh… what brings you here today? From what Steven told me, you don't exactly pick up books all the time like he does." You say to him, tilting his head.

Marc wiped at his face with a groan, "Ugh. Don't get me started on Steven's books! He has too goddamn many–"

"Ah!" You say, flicking a stray curl. You weren't sure why your brain told you that was okay to do. It just felt right. The look he gave you afterwards sent your heart leaping into your throat.

Raw confusion, maybe some surprise?

"Uh… No talking like that is allowed in my store, there, pal…" You stammer out. "So… why are you here?"

"Steven said you had coffee. Didn't feel like dealing with a lot of people today." He kind of mumbled.

"Oh, I get that." You sighed softly in sympathy. Already, Marc struck you as the kinda guy who didn't like dealing with people unless he had to.

And honestly, you kinda felt for the guy. Something about him made your heart twinge in a funny little way.

"Tell you what, as a thanks for helping take care of that asshat, coffee is on the house, and I'll even give you a cup of my personal blend instead of the stuff on the menu."

"Uh, you don't have to–"

"Ah!" You say, wagging a finger at him as you walk away. "None of that in my store!"

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

You sat and talked for a while. Hours, really. Whereas Steven loved to babble about things he knew, and was rather energetic about it, Marc was… reserved. Shy, almost. He was content to let you lead the conversations, piping in here or there on a subject.

He told you some about his time in the Marines, and how something happened to him mentally that got him discharged early. He was vague about what he did after that, but he mentioned moving to London after he and his wife ran into problems.

At first you almost asked a rather impertinent question, "Why did you guys split up?" But decided that was far too rude of a thing to ask. Even if you wondered why he married outside of a soulmate bond. Even if a marriage like that wasn't entirely uncommon…

"I'm sorry." You say softly, sitting across from him, your coffee long finished, the mug cold. "You've been through… a lot..."

"Yeah, you can certainly say that." Marc sighed, turning his mug in his hands for probably the hundredth time.

"So… Thanks again. For y'know. Helping me." You smile.

"No problem, easy enough to deal with a drunk." He shrugged. "And he looked like he was about to hurt you, so I had to do... something."

"Well I'm glad you did that something." You chuckle.

Marc cleared his throat and smiled back, a soft thing on his face, really. But it was nice to see.

He moved to stand, "I should, ah… go. Thanks for the coffee." He reached out to hand you a few notes from his wallet, and you declined, gathering the mugs to go wash them.

"Nope, I already said it was on the house." You tell him.

"But–"

"No buts!" You called out as you vanished into the expanse of bookshelves.

When you came back, you noticed that, stacked neatly on the counter, was a bundle of notes, your egg timer sitting neatly atop it, with a post-it note simply saying:

"Tell me your life story next time. Thanks. -Marc."

Chapter 4: Link

#A Rose Under the Moon #moon knight x you #moon knight x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #steven grant x reader #soulmate au

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Coming Home (Part Eleven)

Azriel x Reader

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten

Is this me...being SOFT?! (Seriously tho, I have zero experience with writing romance and chemistry between characters, so I'm sorry if it's not great lol)

Warnings: None!

⧪

Mor tells me you aren’t coming to Starfall.

The handwriting was Azriel’s. Brilliant and intricate on the parchment that had appeared before you, you studied the curves and loops of the words, a smile playing on your lips. 

Mor would be right about that, you wrote back.

Things had become…better — calmer — in the two weeks since that awful night in Windhaven. You’d braved a few returns to check in on Thea and the other girls — Azriel insisting on taking you there and back every time — and they were recovering well. The relentless strength of younglings never failed to amaze you. 

Things with Rhys were on better footing — in the loosest way. Not perfect, by any means, but you’d agreed to put things behind you for the time being. There was still much you needed to talk about, get out in the open, but you’d decided to let things lie until after Starfall. 

And then there was Azriel.

You were friends again, no longer avoiding each other, no tiptoeing around a massive rift. You were on your best behaviour, keeping things purely platonic and not overstepping the mark. And it was a relief. A weight off your shoulders.

Things between you had begun to feel like they used to — like they were before you’d dared to attempt that kiss on Starfall night all those years ago. A comforting, familiar thing that you’d gladly fallen back into, just like old times—

Yet somewhere amongst it all, things had slowly begun to…change. Become different. 

The notes — writing back and forth when you weren’t physically together — was an entirely new thing. Azriel’s witty words had become somewhat of a calming presence during long days at the clinic. You found yourself excited for the notes to appear before you, found yourself grinning like an idiot as you read over his thoughts and questions and light teasing, and you formulated your responses. 

And maybe he was just trying to make sure you were keeping your shit together after that awful night in Windhaven. Or maybe he was simply enjoying having your friendship back, revelling in it. Whatever it was…Azriel was always the instigator. Always the first to write. 

It’s your first Starfall in almost a century — why would you not come?

You studied the question he’d written back, chewing your lip. So many things you could write — the truth, maybe; that you weren’t sure you could face the memory of your last Starfall in its entirety. It was one thing having the gnawing recollection of it in the back of your mind, staining your cheeks pink, but being back up on that balcony while light and life burst through the skies above you, was a whole different thing. Seeing the passing stars cast flashes of light across Azriel’s sculpted face, his full lips—

No. Pointing that out to him did not align with the whole being friends thing. It would be inappropriate, awkward, to bring it up. 

So you simply wrote back, I have nothing to wear. 

Such a pathetic excuse, that you snorted to yourself — and imagined Az doing the same. Seconds passed before his writing once more appeared before your eyes. 

So I’ll buy you something.

Your heart did a silly, pathetic flip, a grin pulling at your lips. You loved this — the teasing; had missed it. And even though it was slightly different to what it had once been…somehow more than it had once been…it still made you feel light and giddy and content.

Yes — you could totally do the friendship thing. Could totally be responsible and appropriate and proper. 

You didn’t write back to his jestful suggestion, having found yourself occupied by a patient walking through the door of the clinic. 

But it was just as you were closing up for a quick lunch at noon, that you heard the thud of footsteps approaching the front counter, and you turned to find Azriel there in all his brilliant, dark glory. 

The sight of him had your heart picking up. Gods, he was beautiful. Writing notes back and forth was one thing, but…seeing him in person…you felt your body flush.

You gave him a once-over — no injuries that you could detect. So why was he here?

“Please tell me you haven’t been hit with an ash arrow again.” You said.

One side of his mouth lifted into a lopsided grin. “No, lady. I’m completely intact.”

A stab of relief pinched at you, relaxing your shoulders. “So what brings you here? I was just about to close up and take a quick lunch.”

“Perfect. We’re going shopping.”

You stopped, blinking. Surely he wasn’t serious. He seemed to find your surprise amusing, and he dipped his chin, as if to hide a smile. 

“Don’t you have someone to spy on, or something?” You asked. Most days, it was a novelty if anyone saw Azriel at all, besides the flash of his flying form in the skies above them.

“No, I don’t.” He smiled. “My afternoon is free — and yours. If you’ll have my company.”

If. Was he aware of how preposterous it was to bring such a thing into question? Of course you'd have his company — as much of it as he’d give. Maybe he truly didn’t realise that.

Still, your eyes flicked around the wooden interior of the clinic, responsibility nagging at you from the back of your mind. 

Azriel tracked your gaze. “I’m sure anyone in great need of a healer would track Madja down.” He pointed out. “Why don’t you close up for the rest of the day? You work hard enough as it is.”

You cocked an eyebrow, the phrase pot-kettle-black springing to mind. “As do you.”

“Well, then.” The smirk on his lips was delicious, breathtaking as he held out a hand to you. “Clearly we both deserve a break. Let’s have some fun.”

And maybe it was stupid and reckless and not in keeping with the platonic boundaries the two of you had set for yourselves, but you relented. 

Every part of you tingled as you placed your hand in his, and he led you out the door.

⧪

The Palace of Thread and Jewels. 

Perhaps the most opulent of the four market squares in Velaris. Every inch of it boasted wealth and decadence, with window displays of intricately-woven tapestries, others glinting with the jewels and gems that the afternoon light bounced off of. And of course, the clothiers; it seemed there were outfitters there for every occasion you could possibly need to shop for, be it a ball or a wedding, a steamy night with your mate – even just lounging at home. You’d always found it breathtaking; the talents behind the makers of such garments and jewels. That they knew precisely what to do with yards and yards of beautiful fabrics.

It dawned on you very quickly that in the time you’d been back, you hadn’t truly taken the chance to simply appreciate the unique experience that was walking around Velaris. It was an assault on the senses in the most heady, wonderful way. The constant accompaniment of chatter, and the faraway music that drifted on a wind from The Rainbow, seeming to snake its way through all corners of the city. The trickle of the market fountain that children played around, flicking coins into the water or chasing birds across the square. And the delicious smells that wafted from restaurants and cafes, of tea and coffee and spices and sweet treats.

So many places you’d been to across the world, and yet none of them were quite like this. 

Azriel strode closely by your side, eyes always watching and alert. He wouldn’t say it, but…you got the sense that he was uncomfortable, with the way people stared – soaking in the novelty of their High Lord’s spymaster and sister strolling amongst them. Even with his scarred hands tucked into gloves, he kept them shoved inside his pockets as though making entirely sure that no one would catch a glance. 

It made you want to grab one of those hands more than ever. Hold it openly and proudly. 

Azriel led you into a shop that you’d trailed Mor around many times before – her favourite, you knew. The clothes it sold were gorgeous, the seamstress behind every one of the pieces an utter expert at producing intricate garments that were sexy and classy and beautiful. You brushed your hand over different dresses as you followed Az in, wondering what might look good on you, which colours were best against your skin tone, which materials complemented your body the most. 

The two of you looked up as the seamstress emerged from the back of the shop, her eyes immediately fixing on Azriel. She looked him up and down, a familiar flash of hunger in her eyes.

“Shadowsinger,” She greeted him – not you – in a voice as smooth as melted chocolate. “What can I do for you today?” 

Azriel inclined his head in your direction, hands still shoved into his pockets. “I’m here to find the lady an outfit suitable for Starfall. One as beautiful as she is. I know you must have something, Mauve.” 

Mauve was forced to look at you then – though she seemed reluctant to tear her eyes from Azriel. She appraised you in a way that made you feel strangely naked, her eyes taking in the dips and curves of your body. “I’m sure there’s something here you’d find suitable.” 

“We won’t keep you from your work.” Azriel’s smile was easy, charming – and a clear dismissal. “We’ll give you a shout should we require your assistance.” 

Mauve didn’t push it. Dipping her chin, she turned and disappeared through the door she’d emerged from, leaving you and Az alone on the shop floor. 

You turned to him, a small, coy smile playing on your lips. You couldn’t quite believe you were going along with this – allowing him to buy you something for Starfall when you hadn’t even agreed to attend in the first place. You felt strangely nervous and shy, fiddling with your hands.

“Would you favour a dress?” Az murmured in his lilting voice, already walking past clothes racks and mannequins in slow, easy strides. “Or perhaps something more akin to Amren’s style?”

You cleared your throat, falling into step beside him. “Um. A dress, I suppose…”

He nodded, and you watched as he finally pulled his hands from his pockets. The gloves came off next, bearing his beautiful hands to the warm interior of the shop. It took you a moment to realise he hadn’t merely grown too hot from the heating enchantment – he wanted to feel the fabrics. To test how different materials brushed his skin. 

He ran his hand over different dresses, a pinch of thought on his face. “You like autumnal colours. Reds and oranges and yellows.” 

It wasn’t a question, but a statement. An observation. He’d actually noticed that about you – taken note of the shades you often wore, the different ones you paired together. 

“I do.” You concurred, watching his fingers glide over silk of a burnt orange colour. 

“Perhaps that’s why you like Lucien Vanserra so much.” 

Your eyes flickered to his, finding him already gazing at you, his head on a slight tilt. His face was always so unreadable, it was hard to know the meaning or intent behind his words. But you thought…thought maybe there was a flash of ire in there somewhere. Or something like it. 

“What’s so bad about Lucien?” You asked.

Azriel shook his head. “Lucien isn’t a bad male. Not by any stretch of the imagination.” His tongue swiped over his bottom lip. “Perhaps I’m just selfish.”

Before you could question him, he brushed past you, crossing the shop floor and stopping before another rack. You could feel the frown tugging at your face – something about you wanted to push the subject. 

But things were good again. And you were enjoying yourself for the first time in a long while. You were loath to get into a disagreement with him. 

“Here.” His voice hummed as you approached him from behind. He angled slightly towards you, his deft fingers brushing a velvet dress the colour of plum. “This – it reminds me of the dress you wore at the ball Rhys threw for your nineteenth birthday.”

You baulked at him. “You remember that?” 

His hazel eyes were like heated syrup that burned into yours. Like he was trying to communicate something without saying the words. 

“How could I forget?” Was all he offered.

Indeed, that night was the most beautiful you’d ever felt, after years of plain, unassuming clothes that you merely wore to hide the scars Tamlin’s father had left you with. The first time you’d ever really felt like a woman instead of a girl – and it seemed that every male in that ballroom had echoed that sentiment. Never had you been asked for so many dances or offered so many drinks. That dress had given you confidence you’d never imagined yourself having. And you’d never quite been able to emulate it since. 

“Do you see anything you like?” Az asked, letting the fabric drop from his fingers. “Whatever you want, you’ll have.”

There it was again – that flipping of your heart and your stomach. You pursed your lips, nodding at the plum velvet dress. “I want to try it on.” 

You could have sworn there was a hint of a smile as he eased it from the rack, holding it carefully as though he was worried his scarred hands would marr the beauty of the garment. Still, he carried it for you, leading you through to the small changing area. 

“I’ll wait here.” He handed you the dress, perching on a chair that in no way accommodated his massive wings.

You were…you were nervous, you realised, as you sidled into the changing stall, the dress draped over your arm, and slid the curtain across. Something felt so intimate about this situation…like crossing a little line you never had before.

You didn’t quite understand how you’d ended up here, when a matter of weeks ago, you and Az hadn’t been talking. Not that you were complaining. 

You undressed, hyper-aware that nothing but a flimsy curtain was separating the two of you. Your body felt too hot, too tight as you slid the dress on, the velvet caressing your skin.

And realised the dress did up from the back. 

You almost groaned. Like the Mother, the Cauldron, the Gods-damn fates, were trying to push you into compromising situations with Az, no matter how hard you tried to avoid them, to behave yourself. Of course you would try on a dress you couldn’t reach the fucking ties to.

You tweaked back the curtain an inch, clearing your throat. “Um…” You murmured, cheeks flushing as Az glanced up. “It kind of…laces up at the back.”

He stared at you. Just for a split second, before he rose from the chair, so big in that tiny little changing section that it was almost comical. You stepped aside to make room, and he had to duck just to get into the changing stall. 

You turned your back to him, coming face-to-face with the mirror. And the sight of you both…him stood at your back like that, close enough to feel the cool press of his leathers against your skin…it could well have set you alight. 

It was an effort to keep yourself upright, to stop your knees from buckling, as Az’s rough fingers gently brushed your hair to the side, letting it fall over one shoulder. He was silent as he began to pull at the laces, but his breaths – they were heavy. Loud. Fanning the back of your neck with delicious warmth. 

“Hope I’m doing this right.” He murmured, his brow pinched in concentration. 

The dress was pulling tighter against you, accentuating the silhouette of your figure through the fabric. And perhaps that was why you were breathing so quick and so heavy, feeling like you may just pass out from the proximity, from his potent, earthy scent. You closed your eyes as you felt him reach the last of the laces, bracing your hand against the wall. 

“There.” His voice was soft, gentle, the sound of it moving through his chest and brushing your back. It was a task in itself to bite down the moan that wanted to slip from your lips. 

It took you a while to actually face what you looked like in that dress. And Az was patient, still lingering behind you as you slowly opened your eyes and drank in your reflection. It was simple, yet pretty…not adorned with beads or jewels, but it didn’t need to be. Something about the soft velvet…the deep purple shade…it just looked right. Dark and gorgeous and daring.

Like you belonged in the Night Court.

Az was staring, too. Staring hard. You watched as his eyes moved down and down, taking in every inch of you; appreciating every inch of you. They slowly flicked back up again, his gaze meeting yours in the mirror. You could see the rise and fall of your chest through the dress. 

With careful movements – like he was testing himself, or you, or something – he placed a hand on your shoulder. His fingers brushed the skin there, before moving down the length of your arm. Each delicate touch left a trail of heat behind it. You wondered if he could feel it, sense it – what his touch did to you.

His eyes followed his own movements, watching as his fingers glided over your wrist and stopped at your hand. Where he took it in his own, his palm warm against the back of your hand. 

He laced his fingers between yours, giving a gentle squeeze that drew the slightest of sounds from your throat. 

“I’ve always thought you have the prettiest skin.” His voice was a whisper, and yet daringly loud in your ears. 

You could have been the only two people left in the shop, in Velaris, in the whole fucking world, for all you aware of it. It was just you and him in that moment, in that tiny, cramped stall, when your bodies were pressed together, his hand clinging to yours.

“It’s like…” He continued, his thumb brushing over yours in soft strokes. “It makes me think of water. When it’s still and unbroken. Just…clear. Serene. Magical.”

You closed your eyes, sure you were definitely going to faint. Maybe even die. Maybe you were already dead, and this was the beyond, and–

You yelped as Az suddenly spun you around, forcing you to face him. A single breath had your fronts brushing against each other. He didn’t let go of your hand, and you didn’t dare open your eyes. 

“Look at me…” He whispered. 

Releasing a staggered breath, you willed your eyes to open. There wasn’t a part of you that didn’t tremble, even with the firm grip of his hand holding onto you. You could feel how flushed your cheeks were, how much of a simpering fool you must have looked.

But Azriel drank you in – not your reflection, but you. Every last bit of you. His throat worked on a swallow, his lips parting. 

“You…” He breathed, swallowing again. “You’re a wonder.” 

Your heart did that silly little flip in your chest, your eyes darting to the ground. You couldn’t face him like this, couldn’t–

“Don’t hide from me,” His other hand gently grabbed your chin. “Please…”

There were so many things you wanted to say in that moment. So many things you wanted to do – the most pressing being the urge to shove him against the wall, to rip his clothes off and taste every bit of him. Or maybe you could be slow, be methodical about it. Maybe you could try a small, soft kiss, test the waters–

“Hello?” The harsh, feminine voice was like being jolted awake. You and Az jerked back from each other just as the curtain was pulled aside, and the seamstress took in the sight of you both, pursing her lips in clear disapproval. “Did you find what you were looking for?” She asked. 

Az looked to you inquisitively – it was your choice. “We’ll get whatever you like. This one, or we can look for another–”

“I like this dress.” You cut in quickly, clearing your throat. “I’ll get this one.” 

The seamstress gave the two of you one more scathing glance before she nodded. “I’ll be waiting at the counter.”

Az turned back to you, eyes flicking over you again. Eyes you couldn’t meet without losing your cool completely. 

You cleared your throat again. “I think I can actually manage with the laces.”

Azriel seemed to hesitate, before he nodded. “I’ll be just out there, then.” 

He stepped out, pausing just to cast one more glance at you over his shoulder. Like he wanted one more look at you in that dress. 

“Very good choice.” He said quietly, and let the curtain fall between you. 

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

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#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #shadowsinger x reader #acotar fanfic #rhysand #mating bond #a court of thorns and roses #cassian #feyre #amren #morrigan #nesta #elain #azriel fluff #acotar fandom #acotar series #shadowsinger #spymaster #fluff #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #sarah j maas #acotar headcanon #acotar smut #acotar writing #acotar fluff #acotar x reader

[skywlker-sluvtt]

Anakin SFW Alphabet <3

A/N: Heyyy I just wanted to try writing something so enjoy whatever this is. Sorry if it's sorta shit but enjoy hehe.

Warnings: None just fluffy, a little swearing, not really edited though

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Anakin is SO clingy and affectionate. If it wasn’t for the fact your relationship had to be secret he’d always be holding your hand while you go out, pressing soft kisses to your forehead. But since the relationship is secret when you’re alone he becomes an absolute MENACE. He’ll pull you in for hugs when you’re cooking or reading. Sometimes he’ll straight up just cling to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his cheek on your shoulder following you as you walk around the house and it’s like you're dragging him with you. “Get off me, you big oaf!” “No, I’ve missed you Y/N please” (with his whinest voice possible) and you just let him because you love his dumbass.

Anakin also adores secret affection. If you were both in some kind of meeting he’d slide his hand under the table to hold your hand brushing his thumb over your hand making you smile and look over at him, he’s smiling right back giving your hand a squeeze. His favourites are secret kisses. “General Y/L/N can I please speak to you in the hall?” “Of course” He’ll take you out there just to kiss you. “Was that all?” “One more” pressing his soft lips to yours passionately before you both reluctantly return.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

It definitely started when you were younglings, you were curious as to how he started his training at the age of nine. Pretending he didn’t fall for Padme he falls for you at a young age. You both became close and start to be rebellious teenage Padawan sneaking away from the temple when possible. Anakin had AOTC Anakin vibes all through his teen years so just imagine how awkward he’d always be around you. “Y-You look beautiful today Y/N” “I look the same as every day” “You always look beautiful” he’d look at you dreamily for years before actually admitting his feelings. This just makes both of you best friends as well so your relationship is even better.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

YES YES YES. At night he always had to be wrapped around you somehow. His favourite cuddling position is spooning (he secretly likes being the little spoon but he’ll never admit it) also I’d just like to add he is like a portable heater he’s always so warm it sometimes concerns you. If you even try to wiggle away from the heat of his bare chest against your back he’s pulling you back in his sleep. Although occasionally his hot body comes in handy when it’s winter or you’re stationed on a cold planet you’ll cling to him taking all the warmth from his body to yours. Lastly, he loves to rest his head on your chest and keep his arms around your waist lovingly while you play with his hair. He falls asleep like that often and you have to try to wiggle away from him when it gets too hot but it never works.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

This man is desperate to settle down. If you asked him to he’d take you far far away to a gorgeous planet and settle down with you. He often mentions the idea of leaving the Order to have a family with you on a gorgeous planet and raise kids with you. He likes to mention getting you pregnant and throwing away your birth control so you get pregnant and actually have to leave the order but it's always a no. “Anakin, stop it one day I promise” “Fine” He huffs about it but then kisses you with a grin.

Also, bro is atrocious at cooking, he’s used to whatever dog shit they served in the cafeteria when he was a youngling/padawan and never really bothered to learn properly when he was old enough so he adores how you cook for him. Once he tried to cook for you and forgot to season the chicken and the dude served you the blandest white chicken you’ve ever seen in your life and you felt so bad when you laughed. I feel like Anakin used to think chicken could be cooked medium rare at some point in this life. Let’s just say he leaves cooking to you.

He’s definitely not a fan of domestic chores and hates cleaning but he does it, he’s not a slob but sometimes he just gets lazy and stacks a pile of robes on the floor which you carry to the washing basket. Anakin definitely helps you if he’s home while you clean and he tries his hardest.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He wouldn’t. Anakin would only try to break up with his partner if he felt like he put them in danger. Assuming you were a Jedi he’d know you could handle yourself, you’re strong and independent but he can’t help but worry. He’d sit you down apologising profusely and holding your hands before he tells you he can’t keep putting you in danger like this and he’s not good enough for you. You’re both crying but I’d say you're able to assure him everything is fine and he’s your favourite thing in this fucked up galaxy and you’d both be fine after a while.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quickly would they want to get married?)

So fucking fast. I mean we all saw how fucking quick the man was to marry Padme and he’d be the exact same. After you both admitted feelings he’d maybe wait a week or two to ask if you just wanted to get married. He’d make some long (very adorable) speech about how beautiful you are and he’d end up complimenting everything about you explaining how in love he is before actually spitting it out “Will you marry me, I can’t wait any longer” his voice is soft and needy as he kisses your knuckles “Of course Ani why didn’t you just say that!” you giggle hugging him tight. I also think he didn’t expect you to say yes.

You’d get married somewhere private and it’d be like him and Padme’s wedding you’d have C-3PO and R2 as witnesses and it would be lovely. Anakin would wear his fancy robes because he doesn’t really own anything nicer and you’d buy a pretty dress to wear. Anakin would be a bridezilla because he wants it to be perfect for you and if the sun isn’t in the correct place while you’re being wed he’d be slightly annoyed before you’d assure him you’d be happy with getting married in a courthouse because you’re so in love with him which makes him feel better and gives him another thing to add onto the long list of why he loves you.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Anakin is very gentle but sometimes he can accidentally be a bit rough or harsh when he’s overwhelmed. If he’s having a shit day or frustrated at the council he might snap at you but it's just because he’s a little baby and gets emotionally overwhelmed (same) When that does happen he realises how upset he is and will apologise profusely and finally talk about his feelings. He’s mainly very gentle physically even when he’s upset/angry (only to you because if he’s upset at someone he can kill he probably will) he always makes sure not to squeeze you so tight when your hugging or to make you uncomfortable. He adores soft touches like caressing your cheek and rubbing your thigh, Anakin also loves it if you give him the same gentle loving touches randomly because let's be real his love language is touch.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

HIS HUGS ARE TO DIE FOR. Anakin’s hugs always make you feel better when you’re down. He walks over and wraps you in his arms pressing a soft kiss to your head. His fingers gently run up and down your back while you just keep your face pressed against him to smell his familiar scent. He constantly wants hugs he enjoys it when you initiate them because it makes him feel extra loved when you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down into what he describes as your “warm embrace”. ALSO, imagine coming home to each other after being apart it’s like that scene in ROTS when they rescue Palpatine and he hugs Padme. He’ll sprint to you just to hug you so tight swinging you around. Anakin also loves to press a small kiss to your neck if he can. “I missed you dearly” honestly his hugs just make you feel like you melt into one another.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Again bros quick with it. He’s felt it for a long time and when you guys finally get together he’s scared to say it in case you think it’s too soon so he’s conscious not to say it, but after a week it just slips. You’re cuddling in bed and he starts teasing you about how adorable you are making you get all nervous and blushy. You’re both giggling and laughing he just blurts out “I love you” between laughs and then realises what he said but you're quick to respond. “I love you way more Anakin Skywalker” all his doubts are gone and he feels so happy to hear you say it back and he just kisses you lovingly.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He’s so so so so jealous it’s funny. Anakin hates seeing you with other men. He doesn’t mind you and Obi-Wan being friends or when you have a few guy friends but he feels like every man wants you and that’s just because he thinks you’re so gorgeous. When random guys flirt with you or are just too friendly he’s quick to come over and ask to speak with you about a private matter. When you go with him he just kisses you to remind you of what you already know. “Anakin you’re being ridiculous I don’t want anyone else” you’d grin knowing why he was kissing you so passionately out of nowhere. “I know, I just wish I could tell him you’re all mine” and your giggling telling him how possessive he is makes him get embarrassed.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

I think we all know his kisses are just superior. Anakin puts all his love into his kisses and you can feel that love in them. His favourite type of kisses are soft and gentle he might tug on your bottom lip and end up smiling before whispering a little ‘I love you’ but he can also do the hottest and passionate sloppy kisses when y’all make out he likes shoving his tongue down your throat to make you moan a little and tug on his hair. Anakin would also adore kissing your forehead and you love it too. He’d cup your face in his hands and press the softest kiss to your head and smile at you making you blush.

He also likes kissing your hand when he’s holding it he’ll pull your hand to his mouth and place a kiss on your knuckles or in public he’ll kiss your hand when greeting you and people just think he’s very friendly he does because he’ll do it to Obi-Wan just to throw off the fact he does it to you. “Hello, Master!” He’d grin kissing Obi-Wan’s hand. “Where did I go wrong Anakin?” Obi-Wan would reply wiping his hand on his robes. “Y/N, looking beautiful as always” He smiles kissing your hand. I’d like to add that he likes being kissed on the cheek especially if you were shorter and had to pull his head down slightly or get up on your tip toes. He pretends you left a lipstick mark on his cheek for the day and touches it occasionally being reminded of your soft lips.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He kills them. Anakin does not like children. Let’s forget about the youngling incident altogether he doesn’t like kids unless they were his own. He genuinely just dislikes children, he thinks their sticky and loud, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it. Even when he was a child himself he preferred to follow Obi-Wan around or be around droids. When he had to help train younglings as a padawan he’d try to be nice but just end up irritated and feel bad. Anakin knows he’s not good with children which makes you laugh.

“Master Skywalker?” ”No 😐”

But when he finds out your pregnant he’s so excited and I just know he’d make the best dad. His attitude changes and he would read books about parenting and even volunteer to help with the younglings and work on how he interacts with them (even though he just wants his own baby to come)

“General Skywalker what’s it like going into Hyperdrive?!” Anakin: 🙄 sighs 😀 “Well…”

When you guys finally have kids he’s the most amazing dad and so patient with the children because they remind him of you and he wants to do his best to raise them well. Anakin loves telling them stories and playing with them. He’ll volunteer to calm the screaming babies at night and he’ll sing a lullaby his mother used to sing him. It makes your heart melt seeing it all.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

In the morning he’s tired and grumpy because he wants to stay in bed beside you all day. He’ll ignore every alarm he and you set if you have somewhere to be just because he wants you to wake him up with soft kisses, he’d rather the first thing he looks at in the morning is you rather than a clock. You’d get up first and start your routine giving him ten more minutes before walking over to his side of the bed and touching his cheek moving his head up and kissing his neck and face. “Ani c’mon you baby wake up” you giggle in his ear. “No sweetheart please” He groans pulling you onto the bed. Eventually, you’ll pull him up and shove him in the shower before placing a fresh set of robes on the counter for him.

You’d make him breakfast (he’ll sometimes try to make toast and burn it because he doesn’t look at the numbers) He only likes mornings because he believes you look extremely gorgeous sitting on the balcony with the sun shining on your face. You’d both leave for your duties at the same time kissing each other goodbye when you part. Anakin will hold your hand as you walk apart and he’ll whine until your hands slip from each other’s and you grin blowing him a kiss.

Mornings during a rest day when you both have nothing to do is amazing. You’ll both sleep late and he’ll usually wake up first in this case and admire you before kissing all over your shoulder and neck which wakes you up (the best way to wake up honestly) “Good morning gorgeous” he whispers. He likes to do certain activities on a morning like this 😏 The morning is slow in the best way you’ll shower together and make something yummy before actually starting your day.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights are quiet. You’re both usually exhausted and during the war, it's very rare you actually get to be together at night because you finish at different times but you make it work. Anakin come home and find you asleep on the couch with his dinner in the warmer and he’ll smile before carrying you to bed. Or you’ll come home and he’s asleep at the dining table (because man can literally sleep anywhere) and have to wake him up to go to bed. When your nights are spent together though, they’re the best. Anakin will cuddle with you for hours just relaxing in each other's arms. On these nights you just order takeout and watch a movie before having a warm bath together and getting much-needed rest.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

If you’ve known each other for years you know the majority of his problems and personal issues. He slowly reveals things mentioning his mother and his worries randomly. He sometimes struggles to talk about things that have happened when he’s on a mission or nightmares he’s had. He rambles trying to pretend everything’s okay but you can always tell it's not by his watery eyes and his odd behaviour. It’s confirmed when he closes himself off completely and starts tinkering with the droids or making a new arm for himself. You approach him slowly reassuring him “You know I’m always here Ani, talk to me about anything yeah?” you smile. He nods before hugging you a sobbing a little into your shoulder because he feels weak in these moments and hates feeling like that.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

His patience is usually good. When you’re in an argument he’ll take deep breaths so he doesn’t snap at you because he knows you don’t deserve it. If you raise your voice he’ll start losing patience and maybe yell at you which frustrates you more. When he shouts he finally realises it’s time to stop and will apologise which calms you both down. Overall he’s usually a very patient man because he thinks cocky remarks are more hurtful than shouting.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing or do they kind of forget everything?)

Anakin remembers most things. Occasionally he’ll forget something small which you’ll correct him on and he’ll apologise making you laugh. He definitely remembers all your favourites though. I also think he’s the kind of guy to listen carefully when you talk about things you want so he can secretly buy them for your birthday. One day he’ll find your favourite type of gem on a mission and make a piece of jewellery out of it to give to you (then you wear it every single day and will never take it off cause it’s so sweet) He also corrects people if they say something about you that is incorrect if someone gets your birthday wrong or your favourite food place he’ll correct them smugly as if he’ll get an award for knowing you best which you think it cute that he wants to make sure he knows and remembers everything about you.

R = Remember (What is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

When you first confessed your feelings toward each other though he has many other favourites. He remembers being on Naboo for a small mission and you were both admiring the amazing structures all over Naboo. The way you looked that day is something he’ll never forget. You were wearing casual clothes and the way you smiled pointing at different buildings and structures and how excited you got. Then you both sat down by a river and you were skipping rocks and talking. You were especially close to him smiling and admiring his perfect face. “You’re so ethereal, beyond beautiful” He whispered tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You smile leaning into his touch.

The tension was thick and you leaned in first pressing what was both of your first kisses to his lips. Then he pulls you closer for a more passionate kiss “Anakin I-we shouldn’t” You stutter looking around. “Y/N I’ve always wanted to tell you how much you mean to me, I’ve been in love with you for years” He’d confess making your heart swell. He remembers the blush that covered your cheeks before you giggled. “I’ve felt the same Ani” You’d reply hugging him and kissing his neck happily. He will never forget the happiness he felt knowing he could have the girl of his dreams.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Protective as fuckkkk. If someone made you uncomfortable or touched you in a way he didn’t like he was always close to pulling out his lightsaber. He’d come to your side asking if you were feeling uncomfortable because he could just tell you were. Anakin would tell the person to fuck right off and if they pushed harder he’d shove them back getting aggressive wanting to just beat the shit out of them. You’d grab his arm telling him it was okay before he’d make some rude comment toward them before leaving with you. “Are you okay my love? Are you sure? I can do more than that” He’d assure you. “Anakin, I’m alright. Thank you”

He also wants to feel protected by you Anakin thoroughly enjoyed it when a fellow General made a rude comment about how dumb he was which pissed you off. “Excuse you? Watch your mouth dick head!” You’d snap Anakin was grinning before he placed his hand on the small of your back assuring you it was okay. He also wants emotional protection he likes how safe you make him feel about his thoughts and feelings. You stroke his hair and assure him he’s safe and you’re here to keep him safe and he knows that you’re his safe place, his home.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He puts lots of effort in effort means a lot to both of you. Since you two can’t go on public dates often he comes up with creative ways to make dates at home. Once he’d set up a picnic in the living room for when you came home by buying a bunch of snack foods and successfully making your favourite pasta dish by very carefully following the recipe and triple-checking everything he did. He lit your favourite candles and put your favourite movie on and smiled wide as you walked through the door. You were shocked smelling the amazing food and your gorgeous husband waiting for you. “Welcome home baby” He’d smile. “You’re amazing” You’d mumble kissing him gently.

With gifts, he definitely likes making you things which you prefer to just a regular gift. You’d rather have a hand-crafted necklace made of a gorgeous gem he found than a store-bought one. Anakin is honestly just the king of putting in effort for you because he wants you to know how much you deserve.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Not taking care of himself. Sometimes when everything piles up on him Anakin will start by not sleeping properly. It happens when he puts too much pressure on himself and feels stressed. He’ll distract himself and not come to bed till the early hours of the morning and he’ll slowly become sleep deprived. Then his lack of eating comes he’ll prioritise other things over, eating because he just forgets and you have to remind him to eat. He’ll realise what's happening when he starts getting lightheaded just walking upstairs and you’ll feed him well and take him to bed early and he’ll go back into his healthy habits.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Very concerned, but he knows he’s fucking beautiful so there is nothing to be concerned about. He works hard on his body and knows how much it’s paid off. He’s humble about it but he has very few physical insecurities. One of them was his scar when he first got it he felt sick over the fact that it was going to be there forever. Anakin feels like it makes him look weak. After you assured him it was okay and made him look brave, he was a Jedi after all a General and a Warrior. You kissed it every day and told him it would be okay, he’ll get used to it. It’s pretty. He doesn’t feel insecure over it anymore but it’s definitely not his favourite thing.

Anakin does occasionally check himself out in the mirror and maybe flex a little before walking away pleased with himself. He is also particular about what colours he wears which is why he wears black instead of the normal beige, brown or white most Jedi sport. He thinks black is his colour and wants to look good when he’s in uniform. He also puts effort into his appearance because he enjoys how you swoon over him and tell others how perfect he is.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He’s not his full self when you're not around. You bring out his sweetness and his kinder side. If you ever left him he’d feel as though a part of him is broken and he’ll never get it back. You’re his other half forever and always nothing can change that. He misses you dearly when he’s on missions or you're not stationed together, you both make time to secretly talk when no one else is around. He describes missing you as heartache and says his chest hurts when he’s without you which is pretty darn cute.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He’s super ticklish. You only found out when you jabbed him in the ribs jokingly and he giggled having a big reaction so you tried tickling him and he lost his shit. His laugh changes when he’s tickled its louder and he chokes on his own breath. “NO Y/N NO” He laughs. After that, you find every ticklish spot on his body his stomach, armpits, neck and his thighs. Anakin is the most ticklish person you’ve met and you use it to your advantage often. If he’s being a cocky dick you just grab him and start tickling him. “Shut your mouth Skywalker!” You exclaim with a grin as he squirms around trying to get you off. You love the way his laughs sound when he’s like this. He tries to tickle you as well but you’re too quick for him and will end up getting him first.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Sand For real though he’s not that picky with his partners so in general he hates certain textures of food. He hates grainy food, slimy food or anything that’s gritty. Once he threw up when he had to eat yogurt for breakfast as a youngling. He despises yogurt and finds it foul when you eat it but sucks it up when you’re eating it around him. In saying that he has to eat lots of food he hates the feel of and it feels comforting for him when he’s home and you’re cooking making sure not to make anything with those textures that’s another reason he adores your food.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Sleep talking. Bro sleep talks almost every night and I’m not even just talking about nightmares its always small whispers that you usually can’t make out but sometimes you can. He’ll move around before muttering “Y/N stop” You’d think he was awake the first few times “Huh?” “I love” He continues. You turn around and look at him to see him in a peaceful sleep. “No love you” He sighs. You grin and touch his arm to see if he woke up but he doesn’t so you just kiss his cheek and go back to sleep. Every morning after it happens you tease him about it. “Shut up! I-I don’t even remember that” He laughs. “It was so cute!!!”

#anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin star wars #anakin x you #star wars #starwars #x reader #star wars fic #sw fic #anakin fluff #fanfiction #the clone wars #anakin headcanon #headcanon

[jazz-miester]

Yandere Bayverse!Optimus x Decepticon Mech reader smut?

Also, I wanted to say that I LOVE your works! Especially that one Optimus x reader one.. it has me in a chokehold. Anyways, feel free to ignore!

Hung Over You

Pairing: Bayverse Optimus x reader

Reader type: Decepticon Mech

Song: Lady Lie- Rainbow kitten surprise

Warnings: I'm gonna put Dubious Consent here as a warning. I. Honestly i'd rather be safe than sorry yall. And please please for all that is holy. Get absolute consent from your partners before doing anything. If the yes isn't given whole heartedly and said with everything the person has to offer. Don't do it. It's not worth it.

An: Aww you're too sweet! I'm glad that you like my stuff so much! Hope that this is what you wanted lol. I'm not to familiar with the yandere thing so im lowkey just winging it. Also putting this under a read more because this came out to be 4186 words long lol.

Tags: @rawmeknockout hope you don't mind me tagging you in this lol.

You have caught his optic. Which honestly is the most dangerous thing you have ever had happen to you. There has been. Rumours that have spread from out of the Autobot ranks. But they had been rumours. Right?

Primes don't do that. They. They don't.

Not once did you truly worry though. When would you ever see him? You were one of the few medics that the Decepticon army had left. Most others had defected to the Autobots.

Really. It made sense. They left so they could work in a slightly safer environment where you were less likely to be offed by your patients. Still, even with how long you've been with the Decepticons you find yourself wondering why. Why have you stayed for so long despite the Decepticons going so far out of the ballpark of what they once stood for.

It was becoming less and less often you would find that reason to stay. And at this point you were only finding it in the older mechs. Those who were forced into their casts by the functionists all because they transformed into something other than a silly little microscope.

They were the ones that still fight so they would no longer have to risk their lives on a job that they higher nobles where to afraid to do. They stuck with the original Decepticon ideals so that their future younglings wouldn't have to live the harsh and horrid lives they did.

They are the reason you kept going. Kept doing what you did. They were he reason you still had a flicker of hope for the Decepticons. That Megatron was truly fighting for your peace. That he would lead Cybertronian kind into a new era. One of peace and prosperity in the way they never had before. A life where your frame didn't dictate how and who you would be.

You lost that little ember of hope on a Decepticon battlefield. Every attempt you made to help the others. To heal, to mend. All of it in vain when the bombs began to rain from above.

Again and again you went out dragging in bots and cons alike to some semblance of safety as the bombs screamed in the sky. You were forced to quit when an Autobot. And old and ancient mech stopped you and pulled you into the shelter. It was his rust colored paint that filled your vision as he gave you some sense of solace.

It was with him you grieved the loss of any hope you had left.

All of this. The wrought and ruin of his own troops, supplies, territory. All of it destroyed for a blind assault on the chance he could kill his enemy.

All of it because Megatron was to much of a coward to face Optimus Prime himself.

You did all you could. Tending to the injured. Helping even the Autobots. Or at least all that would allow you to.

It felt like a life cycle for the bombs to quit falling. Longer still for the metal of Cybertron to settle. And longer for the air to become ventable once again.

You did what you could to lead the injured up and out.

A lot of Decepticons turned their back on the cause after that. Most choosing the neutral path. Not willing to chance facing their brothers and sisters. Friends. Lovers.

Some, like you, pledged yourself to the Autobot cause.

It was on that battlefield that you saw him for the first time.

Optimus Prime.

There was a million and one warning bells going off in your helm the closer he came.

"Are you here to fight, or to stay?" His voice rumbled like distant thunder just before a storm of acid rain. This was the same question he had asked every con before you.

"Stay, I suppose." You spoke after a moment. You had long since torn away the Decepticon insignia. You could still feel the distant ache in your sparkchamber.

A botched job for what should have been the greatest moment in your lifecycle.

It meant nothing now.

"I have heard you helped my troops mech. Is this true?" Blue optics looked you up and down then stopped on your own. For the briefest moment you wondered if he could see you. Truly see you. As if the matrix gave him some supernatural ability to pick apart your very spark.

Cybertronians used to worship Primes.

"I did." You answered. "And I will continue to do so. If you allow. Optimus Prime." A grin split his lips when you were done speaking.

"If you are willing then yes.." He trailed off.

"Y/n sir." The Prime tilted his helm. Mouthed your name.

"Y/n." Something about the way he spoke it sent your spark pounding. Your takes turning.

Megatron sounded like that once.

Just before everything went to slag in a hand basket.

.

.

.

That wasn't the last time you saw the Autobot leader. And it certainly wouldn't be the last.

"Y/n! Mech! Pay attention slaggit!" Ratchet's voice was right in your audio receptor. His servos moved with more efficiently than you have ever seen in any mech or femme. It was supernatural, almost, to watch.

The two of you were elbow deep in a mech. The damned frontliner decided to play hero.

You could have sworn you had seen Optimus. There in a window that the assistant has forgotten to close.

.

.

.

"He's damned good. For a con." Ratchet would both praise and poke at you at the same time. "I'm glad he's on our side though."

You were proud with where you were at the moment. You had built a reputation for yourself. Worked in a place that made your skills worth something. You worked with bots that wouldn't have your helm for just venting wrong near them.

You caught a snippets of Ratchets and Ironhides conversation from where you were organizing field kits. Restocking and filing inventory on this had fallen to you after a while.

Well. You were until Optimus came spilling in. Energon flowed freely onto the floor where it really shouldn't have been.

Two mechs carried him in. You were quick to clear a med berth off. Already you were in the process of cleaning when Ratchet began barking orders

Time to show Ironhide those skills Ratchet was bragging about.

.

.

.

Sometime later and what seemed like an obscene amount of energon, Optimus was deemed stable. Currently he was sleeping off the anesthetics.

"Will you keep an optic on him and tell me when he wakes kid?" You looked up from the data pad you were typing on when Ratchet spoke. "I have some reports I need to finish and I need to plan some care for when he wakes up." You waved a servo.

"I've got it Ratchet. Go do what you need to." With a heavy sigh he left. Muttering about Primes being stupid and self sacrificing for no good Primus damned reason.

You went back to restocking field kits. You needed something to do with your servos while you waited for him to wake up.

Which wasn't much longer after you finished. The Prime woke with a start. Bolting upright as he took in where he was. Some part of his processer still stuck out there on the feild.

It was only after he swing his legs over the side of the berth did you walk towards him.

"Prime. You need to stay laying down. If you get up now you could re open the welds me and Ratchet placed." Your voice was low. Soothing. The same voice you have used a thousand times over for Decepticon coming out of general anesthetics. At least this time you were greeted with a look rather that blaster fire.

Really. Megatron should have implemented some sort of psychiatric treatment for his troop.

Optimus said nothing as you walked up to him. Slowly you placed one servo on his shoulder. "I need to check on the welds before I go and get Ratchet. Are you ok with that or do you want me to get him to do it?" You always gave them the option. Some still didn't trust you. Former Decepticon and all.

"You may." The Prime leaned back slightly. His legs spreading further apart as he balanced himself. You said nothing other than giving him a nod before going to check the welds across his abdomen.

The welds looked ok. And they were still holding up despite the fact he decided to spring up off the berth. You took the opportunity to glance at the ones on his arms. Then checking the cabling at his neck that had become undone.

You froze for a moment when he leant forward. Slumping as if suddenly overcome by fatigue. Out of reflex you caught him by the shoulers. Bracing him as he fell forward. Optimus's helm fell on your shoulder. His servo brushing against your hip and thigh.

"Slaggit! Prime are you ok?" You pushed back on him. Righting the blue colored Prime. "Are you dizzy? Any pains that we were not aware of?" You looked over his face plates. Looking for the drain of nanites and fuzzy unfocused optics.

Nothing.

"I am fine. Just." He paused. "Apologies, Y/n. I did not mean to cause concern." There. Again. That same look he gave you on the battlefield sometime ago.

"Are you sure? It is no issue. I can go get Ratchet. He wanted me to get him after you woke anyways." A slight flicker on his face plates. A sort of, annoyance? Then.

"Get him if you must. Ratchet is my CMO for a reason." It wasn't until you pulled away did you realize Optimus's servo had been on your waist that entire time. Only did you know when you pulled away and his digits grazed along the dark grey plating.

.

.

.

You felt like you were going insane. Someone was leaving you gifts. It wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn't for the fact it was inside your habsuit on your berth.

They were the things you liked. Sweetened energon candies. A very specific polish you thought you would never find again. There was even a praxian crystal rose at one point. Who would give that away to a former Con you would never know. After the fall of Praxus they had become scarce.

You saw Optimus a few times after he had been discharged from the med bay. He came a few times afterwards to keep the welds in check and to make sure the new cabling in his throat had took.

You had been the one to check on the welds after a while. And to make sure the Prime had proper movement in his left arm. The one that you were now currently holding and moving to ensure fluid movement in the shoulder joint.

There was that look again. Like he was staring into your very soul. You felt that if you bared your spark chamber you would feel less exposed.

"And this? Any pain, aches?" The Prime rumbled out a laugh. Not once had he looked away from you.

"No. Truly, it is fine. You've done a very good job." You could feel your faceplates warm. Not use to any type of praise.

"It was hardly all me. Ratchet did the bulk of it." Optimus humed. Pulling his arm away. His digits brushed against your chassis before they settled in his lap. He flexed his palms and you couldn't help but to look.

Only to sputter a cough before he looked up. Almost getting caught ogling the Primes thighs.

"Still. You have done good. I am grateful to have such a skilled mech on our side. Your skills are valued here, y/n." He spoke your name with an intensity.

The two of you locked optics for a moment. The Prime almost drawing you in. He servo rose and hovered next to yours. You swore he almost would have taken it in his if it weren't for Ratchet calling him to his office.

The look that covered his facelates looked almost murderous. You had stepped back when he did that. And the look had fallen almost as quickly as it had came. Filled with a different, almost fearful look at your reaction.

The Prime rose and left. Giving you one last look before going to meet Ratchet. When you glanced back down to the berth you felt you tanks turned.

There, in the center of the berth, was a singular Praxian rose. The one that twined the other currently beneath your berth.

.

.

.

You said nothing about it to anyone. Instead quickly taking it and placing it within your subspace before Ratchet or any of the other medics or assistants could notice.

When Optimus left he had caught your optic then glanced at the berth the rose had been on. When he noticed it was gone and how quickly you had looked away. He smiled.

That night you had went to your habsuit shaken. Placing the rose with the other things you had been given.

Was. Was Optimus the one doing this? It would make sense seeing as how he would be one of the few with the proper codes to get into your habsuit.

But why? Why you? And was it really you?

You didn't fall into recharge that night. And you were in a daze for the next day cycle. Ratchet having reprimanded you more than once for your forgetfulness.

You nearly dropped the glass vials holding nanites when you saw him in the window looking into the supply closet. Optimus had studied you briefly before leaving.

You didn't move for many klicks. Servos shaking as you tried to calm yourself.

The next few days went the same. Catching Optimus in the corner of your optics every time you turned. It made you jumpy. Skittish. You began to pull away from the bots you had made friends with. Even to Ratchet who seemed to be concerned. But he said nothing. Did nothing other than lay his servo on your shoulder and give you the most sympathetic look you had ever seen.

.

.

.

"Y/n. Prime needs you in his office." You glanced up dumbly to the femme that had called your name. You had been in the rec room watching some old holo vids Toptwist had put on. A chorus of oohs had filled the room. Most of the bots acting like you had just been called to the headmaster's office in the academy.

Instead you swallowed thickly and nodded your helm at the femme.

You're frame is shaking the entire walk down the hall. Your mind was racing.

Did you do something wrong? If so then what? As far as you knew you were doing everything Ratchet needed you to. You didn't cause any problems with the others. No matter how much you wanted to throttle some of them when they wouldn't stop fragging you over just because you used to be a Con.

Is that why? Did some mech of femme complain about you being a former Decepticon?

You didn't want to lose what you had here. To much. It. You had finally found a reason to keep fighting. The Autobots they held up the ideals that the Decepticons used to have.

You don't think you would be able to quit this. Not without some consequence on your mental health. You needed this.

.

You stopped before the door to Optimus Primes office. You didn't know if you should com him or knock on the door. In the end you chose the latter. Fisted servo hovering before the engraved metal door for a klick before you knocked.

Ice flooded your frame. Something. Something spoke to you about this being a bad idea. That you should turn. Run.

Instead you ignored that millennia forged instinct.

"Enter." Optimus's voice sounded from the other side of the door after you knocked. The door sliding open and closing behind you quickly when you stepped inside.

His office was quaint. Small. There were odds and ends decorating shelves. A few organic plants here and there that looked well taken care of. It was such a rare sight to see. The war on Cybertron and rendered all organic life null. Unable to grow in such an hostile enviroment.

There were data pads from floor to roof on one wall. Suddenly you remember that the great Prime was just once a simple archivist in Iacon.

"There's no need to stand near the door, dear Y/n. I promise. You are not in any trouble here." Your helm snaps from the shelves of data pads and towards the Prime sitting at his desk. It was cluttered with data pads and reports. A few trinkets here and there. There was even a floating holo screen of what you assumed was him and a few other bots in one corner.

"I was told you needed me sir?" You strode to the center of the room. Just before the Primes desk. He smiled and shook his helm before rising from his seat.

"Please. There is no need for formalities here. I am just Optimus. " The Prime rounded the side of his desk before leaning against the side of it. Crossing his arms over his chassis.

You swallowed thickly. Finding yourself falling into a parade rest. "I was told you needed me, Optimus?" You repeated the question with his name instead. He gave a small laugh when he looked over at you.

"I meant it when I said there was no need for formalities Y/n. Please." Optimus pushed himself away from the desk as you made an attempt to stand comfortably. It was a little awkward.

Optimus stopped before you by less that a foot. You had to raise you helm to look him in the optics. You were not exactly a small mech but you reached just below the Primes chin.

"But yes. I did want you down here. I wanted to discuss something with you." His servo rose. The palm of his servo hovering just next to your helm before settling firmly on your shoulder. You couldn't help but look to that servo. Then to him as he began talking once again. "I have heard you've done good work here. And i'm proud of the fact that you are." The servo fell then digits hooked just below your chin.

Your spark began pounding in your chest. "I expect you have met my gifts well?" You optics widden and you pull away from those digits.

"That was you?" Your voice rose slightly at the end. At least that was a conformation. Whether or not it set you at ease was debatable to say the least.

"Of course. I'm sorry I couldn't deliver them in person though. I didn't need the others thinking I was playing favorites." His optics looked your faceplates over. His glossa darted out to wet his lips. "I find you to be the most brilliant mech I have had the honour to have in my troops yet. Y/n I have been hung over you since the moment I saw you." His servos cup either side of your helm. The size of them almost engulfing you.

"There is something addicting about you. I have yet to lay my servo on it. But. I wish to have you, if you will." His thumb brushed along your bottom lip. His optics following the movement of his thumb as he did this. "Of course we will have to keep this secret for a while. But I do not mind." His voice was low. Almost rattling in your chassis from how close he was now.

Chassis to chassis. Touching. So close. If the two of you were to slide the metal away. Surely your sparks would touch. The gesture here. Now. It was intimate.

Suffocating.

"Sir we can't. Its." Optimus's face darkened.

"Optimus. Please. Call me Optimus." His servos fell and once reached down to grab yours. He brought it up to his lips and layed a kiss on your scarred knuckles. His optics were on you the entire time. Blown wide with. Attraction? Lust? "And we can. The others will learn to deal with it."

Something pleasurable flooded your field when his wrapped over yours. Your processer fogged and you didn't know what to do. "Optimus I." You stopped when that pleasure flooded over you again. You legs shook and before you knew it you were moving. Your legs hit the desk and one moment you were standing. The next you were sitting. Optimus's servos wrapped around your thighs as he lifted yo up and onto it.

For a moment the fog lifted and you looked up to see a loopy grin on the Primes faceplates.

"Oh you look stunning just like that. I wonder if I could make you make that face again." He was between your legs. His servo traveled from your thigh and over your hip. It sprawled out over your stomach plating and up your chassis. His digits dipped in seems and pulled at wires that had a heat pooling below.

You whimper when his lips finally connecting with yours. Shivers running down your frame as he moves fervently. His servos cradle your helm as he does this. Drawing you in close. You servos find his wrists. You didn't know if you wanted to pull him away or hold him there so he would keep going.

He did leave you those gifts. It. It makes sense that he wouldn't do it in person. Right?

Right?

The two of you pull away with heated breaths. A string of fluid following your lips before breaking apart.

Your faceplates felt hot. Your vents where going rapidly. Trying to cool your heated frame.

Optimus lent in again and again. Laying kiss after kiss until he found your neck. Nibbling and sucking along the cabling there. You shiver and shook at the assault. Your frame reacting pleasantly to what he was doing.

"Such sweet sounds you are making. I wonder if you will sing the same while on my spike." His hips rolled as he said this. His servo landed on top of your interface array. "Please? My Y/n please?" Optimus spoke breathlessly. His helm pressed to yours. Your nose bumping against his as he moved to press another kiss to your lips. "For me? Please?"

And you did. Your array springing open and revealing your spike and valve to the room.

"The. The door. Is it locked?" You asked.

"Mmm? Yes." Optimus told you. His digits fluttering over your valve. A whimper left your lips as he teased you. Digits skimming over your valve. Your aching node to tease your weeping spike. "Look at you. Is all this for me?" He pressed a kiss to your chin.

"Yeah." You spoke. "Yeah. Just for you." A low moan left you when he sunk his digits within you. Digits curling as he pumped them in and out of you. He moved slowly. Gathering the fluid that left you and spreading his digits apart to slowly ease you into taking his spike.

He didn't want to hurt you after all. Not after waiting for so long. And not with you being so nice and willing.

You almost cried when those cleaver digits left you. Only for you to give a shudder when he put those same digits in his mouth. Glossa working around and between his digits tasting everything you had to offer.

"You taste sweeter than I thought you would be Y/n." He humed as his own interface array pulled away. He gave is own spike a few languid strokes before placing it between your shaking legs. "Relax. I will not hurt you." The tip of his spike pressed into you. "Relax my y/n." He guided himself within you. Moving slowly. He briefly pulled back at one point before sliding forward.

Optimus paused when he was fully seated within you. Giving his hips a few experimental rolls as he watched you come completely undone beneath him.

He was absolutely enthralled with the way you threw your helm back when he began to move. He happily complied with your pleas of more. Harder. Just like that.

You were being so good. So kind after all. How was he not to do what you asked when you were doing such a good job. He even told you as much.

"Look at you. Being such a good mech for me. You are taking me so well my y/n." His hips stuttered when he felt you squeeze around him from the praise. "You are taking my spike so good. You pretty valve feels so nice. So good. Gripping my spike so." He paused when he felt pleasure rack through him when you squeezed him once again.

Optimus was sure to note this in the back of his helm for future fragging sessions.

He could feel his overload coming and coming quickly. And if the way your were keening and moaning. Chanting his name so sweetly. Well, he knew yours was close as well.

Optimus rolled his field over yours and watched as you threw your helm back. Static spitting out of your vocalizer as you overloaded and over loaded hard. Your frame falling pliant under his servos.

Optimus found his soon after you. Pulling you close and leaning on your body.

He was sure to bring you into his habsuit. Cleaning your dirtied frame. Optimus took in the welled energon on your neck cabling. The slight paint transfer around your thighs from your coupling.

He'd be damned if he was letting you leave anytime soon.

#Maccadam #valveplug #Optimus Prime x reader #bayverse optimus x reader #bayverse optimus #optimus prime #yandere optimus prime #request #anon

[awyeahitssam]

Absolute crack.

Above all, Harry was an explorer. He loved to get lost in the labyrinth he called home, from the orchards to the forest to long-forgotten, dusty passageways and secret rooms. Indeed, he derived great pleasure from being so far into the unknown that he could no longer hear or see signs of civilization save those long passed. In his exploring he discovered relics of different times: a small, unbreakable glass-blown dragonfly; the preserved canine of a werewolf; a rune-inscribed well, dry as the bones that lay around it; a chunk of platinum from a time when such was still used as currency… yes, Harry was an explorer, a discoverer, and a collector, because what else was he to do without the company of others?

You see, Harry could not break past the boundaries of his home, nor could any other being. In fact, Harry had never met another living thing for all of his life. As far as he could remember, from the time when he was a youngling, all of his needs were attended to by magic itself. His nappies cleaned themselves, his meals prepared themselves, and, when he wished to learn, magic whispered and taught him. As a child it was a frequent voice, his nurturing companion, but as he grew it strayed to a silent presence and chalky hints against a blackboard; a floating book, perhaps, if he grew desperate in his desolation.

Still, Harry was content. After all he had never interacted with another living thing, and while conversing with someone might prove interesting it wasn’t as though he was ever particularly bored. He had an endless library, and the vast grounds and halls of his home to explore.

And so he looked, he learned, and he grew, by stumbling, by reading, by watching the meager hints magic let him see.

Of course Harry was far from normal, but he knew little of normalcy and so cared very little for it. He was used to an endless cycle of exploring, of cooking, of reading, cleaning, drawing, writing, speaking

Until one day, his cycle was broken.

“Who are you then?”

Harry startled so badly he dropped his book, wincing when it’s spine cracked against the hardwood floor. It was an older volume, worn by time, and Harry was always particularly careful when handling bits of history. But, well…

Harry stared at the thing across from him, astounded. It was taller than him, and looked much the same, which probably meant it was a human. That was a bit of a shame, as Harry had always imagined he would meet a creature, first: a deviously charming Fae, perhaps, or a quick and clever Naga. Still, he wasn’t too let down. He hadn’t imagined he would ever meet another living creature, so to meet one so soon was a delight!

Wait.

What had the - human! - asked?

“Oh, er, hello there... human. I’m called Harry.”

The man's eyes narrowed. He didn’t seem to know quite how to respond to that, but that was okay. Harry had lots of questions - he could just answer those.

“How ever did you end up here, though? In my home?”

Perhaps he should have been offended - wasn’t that called trespassing? - but Harry was far too fascinated for that.

“Your home,” the man hummed, not answering even as his eyes lingered on Harry, on his bare feet and long hair and wide, fascinated green gaze. Maybe he didn’t know that was rude? At least, Harry thought so - then again, magic ignored his questions often enough… though magic was honestly a bit of a bully, no matter how sweet and nurturing it could be.

“Naturally,” Harry nodded. “I don’t think you’re supposed to go around barefooted in other people’s libraries, though I might be wrong on that. I’ve never exactly been.”

The human frowned at him. “No, that’s right. You’ve never - Harry.”

Harry blinked at the abrupt use of his name. “I’ve never… Harry?"

Was that a question?

“Your name. What’s your surname?”

Harry frowned, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Not sure. Magic’s probably told me before...”

“Magic’s told you?”

“Well, yes,” Harry nodded, unsure why the other sounded so surprised. This wasn’t at all what he had imagined. Then again, he hadn’t really imagined much of anything. “What’s your name?”

For a moment the man's face looked odd, almost conflicted, and then he said, “Tom.”

“Tom,” Harry pronounced slowly, really wrapping his mouth around it. “Okay, Tom. How did you get here?”

“That’s… a long story.”

Harry lit up. “That’s all right - I love stories!”

They sat in that library for several hours, and in that time Harry learned of the Dark Lord Voldemort.

Of how he subjugated magical creatures, witches, and wizards. Of how he slaughtered his own kind as indiscriminately as muggles, and in his fool heartedness, exposed wizards to muggles.

Tom spoke of a war, terrible and long. He spoke of a dying planet, and of Voldemort’s undignified end at the hands of the very muggles he thought so worthless.

Then, he spoke of a second chance.

Voldemort was, by all accounts, a villain. And Harry—well, he had always liked villains the best.

“You’re in your redemption arc!” Harry enthused. “If you do things right I bet you can become an antihero.”

#crack #17 yo me was a genius #have I shared this before? #either way you're welcome lmao #Harry and Voldemort have a chat #redemption arc incoming #my writing #happy to claim this one