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moonshine-nightlight · 1 year

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Nothing's Wrong with Dale: Part Twenty

It’s been a week, but you’re fairly certain your fiancé accidentally got himself replaced by an eldritch being from the Depths. Deciding that he’s certainly not worse than your original fiancé, you endeavor to keep the engagement and his new non-human state to yourself.

However, this might prove harder than you originally thought.

Fantasy, arranged marriage, malemonsterxfemalereader, M/F

AO3: Nothing's Wrong with Dale - Chapter 20 - MoonshineNightlight - Original Work [Archive of Our Own]

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Seven.5] [Part Eight] [Part Nine] [Part Ten] [Part Eleven] [Part Twelve] [Part Thirteen] [Part Fourteen] [Part Fifteen] [Part Sixteen] [Part Seventeen] [Part Eighteen] [Part Nineteen] Part Twenty [Part Twenty-One] [Part Twenty-Two] [Part Twenty-Three] [Part Twenty-Four] [Part Twenty-Five] [Part Twenty-Six] [Part Twenty-Seven] [Part Twenty-Eight] [Part Twenty-Nine] [Part Thirty] [Part Thirty-One] [Part Thirty-Two] [Part Thirty-Three] [Part Thirty-Four]

Your turn catches Breighton’s attention and you both move to allow Dale and Grandfather into the loose circle that your group has formed.

Greetings fly around as everyone is introduced yet again while you hope this is enough of a disruption for the topic of conversation to change.

You haven’t even had a chance to hear about anything truly new and interesting about medical studies from this world yet.

“Lord Dale,” Dr Louisa says, a glint in her eye you don’t trust. “We were just discussing demonology laws. Given my area of study and given Northridge’s historically rigid stance on the laws forbidding any practice or study of the Depths, I was curious as to what your opinion on the matter was. Or yours as well, Lord Northridge, if anything has changed in that regard.”

You nearly have a heart attack at her bold question. Was the fact that only Grandmother was specifically warned against made her think that meant Grandfather is a more amenable target? Didn’t she realize the original warning was for her own benefit, not Grandmother’s? Your eyes dart to Grandfather and you brace yourself for whatever he’s going to say—you doubt Dale will be able to speak first.

Grandfather frowns sternly at Dr. Louisa, looking at her as if she had asked his opinion on the merits of running around naked with an unsheathed sword in the muck. “My stance has not changed, if you mean to say that Northridge should permit such activities within our lands or that any of the laws written by Lady Northridge should be repealed.” There’s no give to his words, no gentling them or self-consciousness. As if he had been asked if he still thought it was water in the river and couldn’t understand why that was a question in the first place.

He continues reproachfully, “A very audacious question, but I suppose given the foolhardy nature of your studies, unsurprising. Studying the intersection of materials from the Depths with an eye towards our medicine, except in how to counteract their poisonous effects, is the height of arrogance and recklessness. Northridge’s laws remain the gold standard and if everyone were wise enough to adopt them, then the violence and grief in the world would suffer a great blow.”

Dr. Louisa blinks back, clearly not having expected such a definitive and blunt dismissal of her entire field. Teresa pulls her goblet up to her mouth in a poor attempt to hide her grin. “I see,” is all Dr. Louisa manages.

Hopefully, that puts an end to her desire for drama or debate on the topic and you can finally move on.

Unfortunately, not everyone shares your opinion. Kenneth asks, seemingly unable to resist stirring the pot further, “And you, Lord Dale?”

“Hm,” Dale gives his head a little shake, as if bringing himself back to the conversation. “Oh.” The thoughtful frown on his face deepens as he rubs a hand on his chin. He gives Grandfather an apologetic look before he shakes his head. “I’m afraid I do not entirely agree.”

Grandfather turns to give Dale a look of parental skepticism, the kind given when a child expresses an opinion the parent feels they cannot be qualified to speak on. “No?”

Is that a good attitude for Grandfather to have or a bad one? You’re not sure. It’s not suspicious at least.

“No,” Dale repeats. Is it only because of your knowledge of his nature that you see in his eyes when he makes the decision to truly present an opinion other than agreement on this, most delicate of topics. Does it read merely as bracing one’s self to a parent to the others? Or is it only you who can tell what placing his glass down means?

Dale opens his mouth, closes it with a frown, before he begins again, “I understand the motivation behind the laws Grandmother championed at a national level and agree with the vast majority of them.” His voice is careful and firm, but you see him fiddle with a cufflink before continuing, “However, if I am being honest, I feel Northridge’s ban is ultimately to our own detriment.”

This is a risk and you don’t know why Dale is taking it. Obviously, since he’s a demon you assume he must have a less than glowing opinion of Northridge’s stance, but why press that now? Now, when Grandfather had finally backed off? He’s clearly being careful with his words, but why say them at all?

When Grandfather opens his mouth to object, Dale barrels onward, obviously having committed to this conversation, “I certainly do not think the danger is not real or present, however, a complete ban prevents us from truly understanding that danger and prevents us from learning best to counter and deal with such a thing, if it were to arise.”

Your thoughts race with each new word out of Dale’s mouth. Is he trying to test the waters? To see if Grandfather will bend? And to what point? What is he planning? For the first time in a while, you let your worries about what Dale has planned overwhelm your worries for what others have planned for him. What does he want? Why is he still here? Is trusting in him the biggest mistake you’re ever going to make? Why is this the line he’s walking, that he’s pushing?

“Banning the knowledge and materials needed to summon or create portals is what keeps us safe from the very danger they present,” Grandfather scolds.

“What about the Fallridge fire ten years ago?” Dale counters. He glances at the group, likely seeing unfamiliarity with this incident. His eyes end their scan on you and he elaborates, “While home from school, a student tried to use substandard ingredients and whatever notes he could sneak into Northridge to open a portal. The result killed him and everyone within the block.” He turns back to Grandfather. “Let alone the others who died when those firesprits ran loose and no one knew how to seal the portal or banish them?”

You wince at the description of the incident, though you’ve heard similar stories before about summoning mistakes, or those who were summoned correctly but with the intent of causing harm. It does sound like a larger death toll than usual, especially if no one had the supplies or training to put an end to the incident or the demons.

It’s also an interesting angle for Dale to come at this from. You were worried he’d just suggest a repeal to the bans, that having such strict laws is holding the fief back, as you’re certain the original Dale had thought. This Dale though… he’s certainly not trying to downplay the danger demons can present, if anything you think having such trained personnel would only make it hard for him to remain undetected. Why is he going there with this argument? Just hoping to propose stricter protection in order divert suspicion?

“And how bad could it have been if he’d done so correctly?” Grandfather snaps back, but he looks uncomfortable. “What about all the other disasters that the ban prevented from happening?”

Dale looks disappointed in Grandfather’s answer although you think it's a fair question to ask. “Firstly, you know I cannot prove a negative. Secondly, there are plenty of other fiefs that do not have bans who also do not have constant accidents like this. Thirdly, his warding is what failed which means if he’d done so correctly, it is less likely anything would have gotten through. And finally, having trained responders in the guards and our own schools to help combat such an accident could only have helped in this situation.”

Of course, that’s also a fair response. Your own fief, as best as you can remember it, has the same laws as the country as a whole and have not had significant incidents—at least, none that you heard of. While you were never particularly involved in anything regarding the running of your fief—that was your parents and brother and sister-in-law—they did frequently discuss such matters in front of you, having forgotten you were in the room in the first place. You’ve heard of accidents like that once or twice, but always handled competently by the city guards and put to rest quickly.

“A singular occurrence is not enough to call for a solid and successful policy to be re-written or repealed,” Grandfather replies, folding his arms. You can see he’s not willing to concede this point.

Dale folds his own arms in response and you hope he knows what he’s doing because this seems incredibly risky. You’d just gotten Grandfather to fall back from his investigation and now Dale is possibly bringing that back into focus. At least, you feel relatively comforted by the fact that so far, Dale is only discussing policy and law, nothing personal. “What about the incident in Hallen five years back? Or the diplomatic incident with Fief Sularia? They still refuse to talk to any of us. Our mining caravans are more vulnerable to bandits who use demons as they cannot hire any with sufficient knowledge to defend them.

“And even myself.”

Well, there goes that. He has to go and bring up his own experience. You try hard to stop your nails from digging into your arm as you wait for what he’s going to say. “Someone from the family Vitoron attacked me for the fact that his entire family, save himself and his older sister, were worked to death in the mines because of a book they possessed and work they did outside the fief, where it was legal.”

You glance at Breighton to see if she has any insight into this specific incident and see her face has paled.

“What?” Grandfather’s look of frustrated discomfort melts into something truly startled and worried at the last point. “You never said anything of the sort happened.”

“I knew how you and Grandmother would take news of such an occurrence,” Dale replies smoothly, no hint of apology for keeping this from them in his expression. “And while I don’t blame the laws for his actions—revenge against me, who did not write or enforce the laws or actions taken against his family when I was all of nine—what did concern me was that I had no means of defending myself or knowledge of what he was even attempting,” Dale replies, his mouth grim.

“So yes, I did look into demonology.” Dale juts out his chin. “Ignorance is not safety.” For the sake of the sun, you hope this is Dale’s try to convince Grandfather that any odd behavior or demonic knowledge came from before he returned to Northridge, not his accident, but why now? You’d both already hid any reactions to his clumsy unmasking attempts that he’d finally started to truly back off. This seems like a step backwards, like it will make Grandfather more suspicious, not less—or at least anger him. Maybe he was just trying to act as authentic to the original Dale as possible, hoping that would sell the deception?

But is this public argument before he even officially inherited be what Dale would have done? Quite frankly, you didn’t know him well enough to guess. You can only hope this Dale knows what he’s doing.

When Grandfather looks shocked at Dale’s admittance, Dale’s frown deepens. “You trained and taught me to protect myself and Northridge. You expect once I have the opportunity that I would neglect to learn to protect myself from what is potentially the greatest one?”

“Those tools and knowledge are double-edged blades—poisonous ones at that,” Grandfather says, obviously settling on parental outrage. His face is hot with anger, though you expect it is also to cover up embarrassment at Dale’s public disagreement. And it's not as though you don’t think he believes what he’s saying about the danger.

“All tools are. All knowledge is,” Dale retorts, sounding the most like his old self since the accident—but even in his anger, there is a restraint, an attempt at sounding measured that the original Dale never thought to exercise. “I’ll not leave myself vulnerable out of fear or the misguided arrogance that I can successfully remove the threat entirely. I’ll not be held captive in my own home.”

“Dale,” Grandfather looks stricken by that statement. “That’s not the purpose of our laws. That does not mean that there are not degrees of danger. One can be warned against poisons without sampling them and hoping you survive.”

Is Dale trying to use the original Dale’s thoughts and motivations to justify laxing the laws in Northridge so that later he can take advantage of not having to hide so much? Is now the time for that? Your eyes go to Breighton, who looks grave as her eyes dart between her father and nephew, her lips firmly pressed together.

“Can they? In Northridge?” Dale asks, resigned, as he picks up his goblet once more, eyes focusing intently on the liquid within like it might hold the answers he seeks. “Because from where I’m standing everything is banned, including how to protect oneself.”

“There should be nothing to protect yourself from, if everyone would simply listen to reason and stop inviting venomous snakes into their homes or playing with fireworks indoors,” Grandfather snaps.

“But they won’t,” Dale says, the frown set deeper in his face, his countenance dark. “They’re never going to.”

“There is no safe way to engage with demonoloy or summoning,” Grandfather says, a cord on his neck standing out. “I don’t know what you thought you learned or what benefits you think you gained with that knowledge, but you’ve only put yourself in unnecessary danger.”

Dale opens his mouth to respond, his eyes snapping, but Grandfather refuses to let him. “I will not hear anything more about this and you’ll not mention anything of the sort to your Grandmother. She has worked far too hard and for far too many years to keep you safe to hear you’ve disrespected her efforts in such a manner—to say nothing of the disrespect to the memory of your parents.”

Dale had pressed his lips together when Grandfather mentioned Grandmother, looking away, but at the mention of his parents, he snaps back to attention. Taking a step towards Grandfather, Dale says, heatedly, “You may disagree with my decisions, but do not suggest I did so out of disrespect. That I did not do so because of what happened to them, not despite it.”

“Father,” Breighton’s voice cuts through the tense silence, her hand landing on Grandfather’s shoulder. The other landed on Dale’s. “Dale. Now is not the time nor place for such a discussion. I know that neither of you would disrespect Remmy or Qiana and you know that about each other too. This is a celebration of a betrothal, not a magistrates court. No laws are being rewritten tonight. And no one is going to get Mother involved in this either. Yes?”

Grandfather looks as though he wants to disagree, but then he finally looks away from Dale to meet Brieghton’s eyes. Whatever he sees there, makes him deflate. He bows his head slightly. “Yes.”

“Yes,” Dale echoes after a similar look from Breighton. He looks more annoyed than Grandfather, but also more cowed.

Grandfather sighs, looking tired. “I know your intentions are meant for the best, Dale. That whatever you’ve done is because you felt it warranted. I am aware you have felt trapped in Northridge in the past, but that has never been our intent. We have only ever acted for your safety and wellbeing.”

“I know,” Dale admits before downing the rest of his wine glass. “I did not mean to imply otherwise.”

Breighton lets go of both of them at those words, seemingly aware that's as close to an apology either of them will get. She turns back to the group, who have, out of politeness or discomfort, given the Northridges’ space. They closed their circle to talk quietly amongst themselves while the family argument between their hosts resolved—no doubt listening, but at least pretending for propriety that they were not.

Before she can say anything to smooth your return to more calm conversation, a sudden noise makes you wince and look around, eyes a bit wild, at the sound of a threat when you are already so tense. Instead, your gaze lands on the balcony overhead where the instruments for the musicians had been left. Multiple people are up there and seem to be setting up to resume performing. One of them gives you an apologetic look before returning to her cello.

Breighton has snagged Teresa’s elbow, who steps aside easily so Breighton can say to the rest of the group, “It looks as though the music will be starting up again momentarily. Was someone going to fetch us when the Governor’s study room was ready?” She directs the question to Dr. Louisa, who had originally went to see about it, but there is that same sharpness Breighton occasionally has that betray, despite her mild words, the fact that she remembered exactly who instigated the argument.

“They were supposed to come to me,” Dr. Louisa replies evenly, her voice calm and giving no hint that she might be concerned about Breighton’s ire—except the wary look in her eyes. You don’t think she regrets what she pushed for, but she’s at least aware it had consequences and that Breighton will not forget.

You wish you could send Dr. Louisa the bill for the next batch of ingredients for calming and sleeping teas you’ll have to order after this conversation. This betrothal has made you work through your store at an unprecedented rate–the only other times you came close was during final exam periods. That’s not all her fault, but tonight certainly is.

“However,” Dr. Louisa continues. “I propose we head over now regardless. Perhaps we can intercept a messenger.”

“Why don’t we wait in the chess room?”Alent speaks up. “I know the Governor always has it prepared, for all there’s not much to amuse oneself with there. We can let someone know we’ve relocated there to wait. It’s directly off this hall.” He begins to purposely move in that direction and the others follow.

Julion catches the attention of a maid to tell her we’re moving while Breighton purposely steers Grandfather to the other side of the group from both Dale and Dr. Louisa. Since he’s met Kenneth before that seems like the safest move. You nod in response to her look and heard Dale towards Teresa—the least intimidating member of the party—for distraction.

You wind up in step with her and you’re grateful when she picks up the conversation right away, asking Dale what universities and colleges he’s visited throughout his travels. That leaves Grandfather up front, with the other members of the group in the middle, and Dr. Louisa just ahead of you, Dale, and Teresa who are pulling up the rear.

As you make your way through the rather crowded hall, conversation getting louder as the musicians who are ready begin to play once more, you start to feel claustrophobic. The only benefit to being somewhat of a main attraction at these events is that usually there’s more open area around you. Now that you’ve got to cross the entire hall and everyone’s caught up in the gala, which is in full swing with the music returning, that’s not true. You’ve never wished for that extra attention and therefore space more.

After the pair of you are jostled by a hurrying woman, you start to remind Dale to use his cane, for it often seems to slip his mind at these events, but then you stop. You don’t want to come across as ordering him about—that’s one of the reasons Grandfather was suspicious in the first place. Nor do you want to seem overly fretful—or draw too much attention to his continued balance problems.

Of course, him tripping reminds people of that as well. Still, you’re not going far and the cane is in his belt, if he needs it. If he needed it, he’d use it. You’re just looking for something to do, some way to offload some of the tension still causing you to hold yourself tight.

You can’t say you contribute much to the conversation between Teresa and Dale. Between the noise of the crowd, your own nervousness, and the fact that you haven’t traveled much yourself, you feel strangely out-of-place, like an impostor despite this whole event technically being held for you. Like someone’s going to catch you and Dale in your lie at any second. It’s the most uncomfortable you’ve felt at one of these events after going to so many the past few weeks.

Reaching the chess room and entering the mildly cooler room feels like a relief. Since nothing has happened yet, each minute that passes feels like it's lifting the weight slowly from your shoulders.

As you all rearrange yourself around one of the tall tables, Dale catches his foot on a too long tablecloth and stumbles. As the other closest person, Dr Louisa reflexively steadies him, clasping Dale’s hands and forearms as she helps him regain his balance.

Dale smiles ruefully, saying, “I thought training would be the time I needed my cane the most, but alas, the opposite appears to be true. My primary instances of near falls have all been while walking at my leisure, rather than during anything rigorous.”

You quickly move in to offer your own hands to aid him in stabilizing his balance and something dark catches your eye. Does Dale have ink on his hands? How odd, neither of you did any paperwork today.

Then you remember: Dr. Louisa’s gloves. Your hands clench around on his own, his fingers instinctively curling around yours. She said they revealed the stain of a demon when coming in contact with them in the flesh or the possessed.

Shit.

Dr. Louisa seems preoccupied with her discussion with Scholar Callipan and has already dismissed her contact with Dale, but who knows how long this effect lasted? She had said not long but what did that mean?

Dale doesn’t seem to have noticed your grip on his hand is far tighter than it should be, which is smething. He also doesn’t seem to have noticed what’s happened because now that you’re paying attention, you can see his other palm as he returns it to his side. There are dark, rich blue deepening to black smudges blooming where Dr. Louisa’s gloves touched him. And he’s making no move to hide them.

You need to either alert Dale so he could be extremely careful himself or get him away from Dr. Louisa so she can’t notice. Ideally you want to find some way to cover up his hands, though you’ve no idea how to subtly encourage Dale to put on gloves without anyone else noticing. Plenty of the others overheard her explanation of Dr. Louisa’s gloves and you didn’t want to alert any of them.

“Excuse me?” You turn to see a maid just inside the entryway. She curtsies and says, “Dr Louisa?” Dr Louisa nods, taking a step forward to identify herself. “The Governor’s study is now available for your use.

“Wonderful,” Dr Louisa says before turning to the others, “I know we only just arrived here, but let us relocate once more.”

“Yes, let’s,” Kenneth agrees. “There will be more room there and there’s a manuscript on the Governor’s shelves that I’m certain will support my point.”

“If you think it will aid in your case,” Julion says and gestures out of the room, “you’re welcome to attempt to locate this tome. I cannot wait to hear about how you misremembered which book or see that it will show I am correct.”

“This is far too academic for me,” Grandfather says and you risk looking directly at him, having avoided doing so since the argument. He seems more or less back to his usual demeanor, for all his gaze skitters over you and Dale relatively quickly. Good news for now, though it does nothing to calm you down. “I believe I shall return my wife’s side.”

Everyone murmurs their farewell to him and your mind races to come up with a similar excuse to leave the group without having to follow Grandfather—that seemed far too risky.

Another note from a violin pulls at your attention and inspiration strikes. “Lord Dale, would you care to indulge me with a dance? I adore this song,” you say, hoping your smile seems sincere to the others as well as Dale.

He turns to look at you at your words and so do quite a few of the others. You’re suddenly aware that you’re still holding one of his hands in both of yours, covering his palm as thoroughly as you can since you haven’t been able to think of a way to subtly grab the other. Do you look too simpering or clingy, holding on to him like this? You try to remind yourself that Dale is your fiance, that this is well within the bounds of acceptable contact and of acceptable social requests.

Dale looks mildly surprised, but his eyes dart to the musicians and to the paused scholars. While it feels far longer to you, it's truly only a few seconds before he smiles. “Of course, my lady.” He nods to the others, “Please excuse us. We shall endeavor to rejoin you later.”

They all murmur their farewells and none seem to take second glances at Dale or his hands. A few look mildly amused by your hold on him or perhaps your request. Someone makes a joke to his husband about how they used to dance when they were newly married.

Still, you don’t feel the steel rod of tension melt from your spine until you’re on the dancefloor, one of Dale’s hands clasped in your own and the other firmly pressed to your waist. You hope that between the dance’s movements, the lack of the more educated audience, and then your hands covering each other will help mask any sign of Dr. Louisa’s little test until the effects dissipate.

While you’re starting to relax, you stumble as the dance picks up pace. Dale’s hold on you is strong enough that you don’t fall out of step too badly. You try to recenter yourself in the moment, in the dance, before you make a more obvious mistake when Dale asks, “Are you quite alright?”

“Hm?” You look up to see him looking down on you, concern in his expression. You feel some heat in your cheeks as you rush to reassure him, “Oh, yes, I’m fine.” He still doesn’t seem aware of what happened and while you’re glad that means whatever the darkening effect is, it doesn’t hurt, it does mean he’s likely confused to some degree by your desire to dance and then inattention to the movements of it.

Before you can make an excuse, he looks almost guilty as he says, “I hope I didn’t upset you back there. I hadn’t meant to start such an argument with Grandfather.”

Your fingers tighten briefly around his at the reminder, but you try to smile back at him. “I did not think that was your intent.”

“But you do think it was poorly timed,” Dale deduces.

It’s one thing to still be hesitant in large groups, but you have been making strides with being more honest with Dale. “Perhaps, with such a sensitive topic, at a party, with an audience before… Now, was not the best choice.”

Dale sighs, looking out over your head as you turn. “You’re probably right, though I struggle to think of a good time.”

“I doubt there will be, but there will still be better ones than now.”

“You are right, I simply couldn’t resist the opportunity,” Dale replies. He looks back down at you. “Poor judgment on my end, but I grow weary of so much talk around things, vague allusions to topics that can’t be broached because of propriety, time spent with nothing much to show for it.

“It’s been a long few days,” you reply, rather relieved to hear him say as much. “A necessary stepping stone, but a tiring one, especially with these galas thrown into the mix alongside the meetings. I’ve never met or talked to so many new people in my life.” In fact, the act of dancing without having to listen intently and worry about what you say is welcome. You feel yourself settling even further, away from the danger and, while not truly alone, at least currently only expected to converse with Dale.

Dale actually lets out a short laugh at that pronouncement. You cautiously meet his eyes and smile shyly when you see he’s truly not laughing at you, but with you. “It has been rather a marathon of meetings and galas, hasn’t it?” Dale agrees. He gives you a smile that says he’s happy to be in on the secret. “I’m pleased to help you escape whenever you’d like, provided you don’t mind my own company.”

Your smile widens, this is what you’d been wanting—a friend, a partner, an equal who helps you as you help him. “Of course not,” you reassure him, “it's not the same sort of thing at all.”

“No?” he asks, sounding amused.

“Oh!” You blanch at how that might sound and rush to clarify you don’t mean to discount his company, “I didn’t mean that as an insult, rather the opposite, I promise.” Aside from still being very aware of Dale’s physical presence and his attention when alone with him, most other sources of tension and worry that usually tug on you are less.

In fact, the remaining danger seems to be the way he makes the rest of the world fade away, makes you want to lean on him in this dance, far closer than it requires. To spill your thoughts even though there’s no call for it. To ask him the many questions of who he really is and why he does what he does that stay buried so that you can still claim ignorance. Because you are still afraid of what the answers might be.

“No insult taken,” Dale replies, sincere enough that you believe him. He spins you around in time with the music and that must be why you feel lightheaded when he pulls you back. He continues, confiding, “I rather feel the same. There is so much to remember and a chance to breathe is appreciated—well, so to speak.”

You puff out air as the pair of you spin out and away, taking more jumping steps with the music. You briefly trade partners for the next portion of the dance before you’re spun back together. The dance slows enough for you to allow you to attempt to manage your panting.

“Yes,” you agree, out of breath, but enjoying yourself despite the exertion. There had been so many years when you couldn’t have managed more than the first few steps before needing to sit down and you always get a thrill when you remember you can truly dance now. Beyond that, so much close attention on talk and connections and names—the simplicity of dancing in terms of deep thought is making you feel almost fluttery without the weight of concentration. “Dances such as these do rather discourage conversation by virtue of leaving you with little breath to do so.”

“Was that not your plan to avoid conversation with me from the start?” Dale asks, his tone nearly as arch as his eyebrow.

You’re relieved that by now you can tell when he's teasing you. Your cheeks are hot from the exertion, not from said teasing, you reassure yourself as you try to toss back, “You overestimate me, my Lord.”

Dale laughs as he spins you away from him. You trade partners in a whirl of motion before he catches hold of you once more. He tilts his head down in order to speak close to your ear—his words for you alone, “I don’t think I do, my Lady."

[Part Twenty-One]

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buckyandgeraltsupremacy · 5 months

Text

remus x shy!reader (part 4)

author: sj

warnings: fluff; angst for remus lol; reader is in hufflepuff; uses she/her pronouns; not edited

done with finals!! now battling the want to only read fics and not write, let me know if you want a confession from rem!!

masterlist

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 5

---

it was the day of the date and remus had been up since 4 am. he couldn't stop thinking about your date. however bad he hoped it would go, he didn't want your first date experience to be horrible. he wanted you to be treated how you deserve and to have a lovely time while also never ever wanting to see the fool again. and that is why he had woken up at 4 in the morning and couldn't stop the fight in his mind.

it was 11:30am and he was laying on the couch in the common room, one foot on the ground tapping constantly. the boys had decided to stay in this morning because james was worried they'd run into you and that sirius would end up embarrassing you and ruin your date.

"moony, if you don't stop tapping your foot, i'm going to lose my mind." sirius grunted, head in his hands covering his ears from the tapping noise.

"she should be done with her date now, right? its been 2 hours. why isn't she back yet?" remus asked.

"relax you love sick dog. your precious wife will be returned soon." sirius replied dramatically, rolling his eyes at how abserd this whole situation was. "if you had only confessed your love for her when you had the chance, she wouldn't be snogging another fella while you fumed the whole time." he added. remus shot upright on the couch with a wide eyed expression and a look of dread covering his features.

"here she comes!" peter shouted, holding the marauder's map in his hands, walking into the common room where the other boys were. all of their heads turned towards the portrait hole where it swung open and you stepped through.

you were excited to tell the boys all about it, but you weren't quite expecting them to all be staring at you when you got back.

"well, hi." you said, cheeks flushing more than they already were, glancing towards the floor to not meet their eyes. you sat down on the couch next to remus like normal, not sensing the tension in his body, only feeling their eyes on you.

"WELL??? i need all the details. spill your guts flea!" sirius cried across from you.

"it was okay! it wasn't bad! but it also wasn't great. like it was pleasant but it wasn't anything to write home about. is that good? like are you supposed to know if you want to marry him already?" you rambled, entire face flushing and not meeting their eyes.

"aw, hoppers. i'm sorry it didn't go well." james consoled you.

"what do you mean?" you asked, confused why he sounded sad for you.

"well, it didn't sound like there was any chemistry, that's important if you're gonna date someone." james explained.

"flea, i know it's your first date ever, but even i thought you'd know that." sirius shrugged. at the mention of it being your first date, you tensed and shot a look a remus, hurt that he spilled a secret to the boys. remus met your gaze with a look of panic.

"that wasn't me! i swear it! i didn't tell them!" he yelled.

"oh he didn't tell us, but the way you were acting before was kind of obvious and the fact that remus would've known that you were dating someone before you were part of our group and you certainly haven't since we've been friends because of remus' behavior." sirius explained, you relaxed and reached to touch remus' leg.

"sorry for thinking that you told them when you didn't ." you apologized and remus nodded back.

"its fine bun, i'm not hurt." he said, covering your hand with his.

"so hoppers, did you snog him?" sirius asked crudely. your cheeks flushed bright red.

"that is none of your business sirius! and a lady never kisses and tells!" you exclaim, avoiding all their eyes. "i told him that it would be best if we were friends, and he agreed. i don't think dating is for me, i just got so anxious before! and the thought of having to go on another date, just makes me nauseous." you say, leaning onto remus' shoulder and resting your head.

"thats okay, bun. you don't have to date if you don't want to." remus patted your thigh, his heart soaring that he won't have to go through this again. he knew he'd have to tell you that he liked you soon, the thought of you with someone else almost killed him.

"thanks rem." you mumbled back, sinking deeper into his side.

sirius observes this going on, looking to james and mouthing, 'are they fucking idiots??'

james simply rolled his eyes in response.

#remus lupin x reader fluff #remus x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fluff #remus x reader fluff #marauders x reader #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

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prythianpages · 5 months

Text

Stuck On You | Final Part

cassian x reader | Cassian can't seem to forget about you since the night you met seven years ago. he thought he would never see you again but when he does, he's determined to make you his. this time for good.

“Don’t worry. She likes your butt and fancy hair. I know, I read her diary.”

[part one] [part two] [part three] [part four] [solstice bonus]

warnings: just fluff and smut at the end (but you can skip it if you want, I put a warning where it starts, just in case)

a/n: we've finally reached the last part! <3 ofc I re-wrote the ending so many times i literally spent all day on the last part lol

A knock on the door had you two reluctantly pulling apart.

Cassian brushed your hair from your face, his eyes going distant for a brief moment. You opened your mouth to question your concern, but the door was opening. You pulled away and your back hit the pillows propped up against the bed to put as much distance between you two.

“Hello, y/n.” Your eyes met with the High Lord’s and widened in surprise. You had seen him a couple of times before but never spoken to him. It felt surreal to have him standing at the foot of the bed and your heart quickened as your mind began to jump to conclusions. “How are you feeling?”

“High Lord,” you bowed your head in respect. “I am feeling okay. Thank you for your concern.”

The High Lord chuckled and you lifted your gaze to find him smiling at you. “There’s no need for formalities here. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you a lot now. You can call me Rhysand.”

Rhysand then turned to Cassian, violet eyes flashing with amusement. “Did I interrupt something?”

You were shaking your head in a flustered manner. “No.”

“Yes.”

You shot Cassian a look but he ignored it. His hand reached for yours, as if he could sense the anxiety roaring within you. Rhysand rolled his eyes at Cassian. He then directed his attention back to you. “Cassian has told me a lot about you and I already had the pleasure of meeting your little sister. You both are welcome to stay here as long as you’d like.”

As your silence lingered, Rhysand, sensing your concern, began to speak again. “If this place is not to your liking, I can–”

“You’re not going to punish me?” You interrupted him.

“Punish you?” Rhysand’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Why would I punish you?”

“I killed a man.” Your voice trembled and you shrunk back into yourself. “Or two.”

Cassian’s grip tightened against your hand, sending a soothing shiver down your spine. “It was self defense,” he told you.

“Those men were in the wrong for hurting you.” Rhysand nodded his head in agreement, sparing a glance at Cassian as he continued. “They would’ve met their end regardless, I’m sure.”

While the thought still unsettled you, you found yourself slightly relieved. Rhysand excused himself shortly after, reassuring you once more that you were welcome to stay as long as you’d like. Any friend of Cassian was a friend of his, he had told you with a knowing smile directed toward Cassian.

Azriel, normally the epitome of stoicism, found himself facing a new challenge: watching over sweet little Seraphine. He’s gone to war, endured countless battles and was able to anticipate his enemy’s moves every time with such skilled ease. But children? Children were unpredictable…and highly energetic.

He realized this as he watched Seraphine bounce in her seat while simultaneously munching on food and asking the sentient house for more sweets to stuff her face with. Azriel sipped on his coffee, wondering if he should stop her but fearing her reaction if she did. A couple of sweets wouldn’t hurt, right?

“Is Cassian okay?”

“Yes. Why wouldn’t he be?”

“y/n says he’s hot.”

Azriel nearly choked on his coffee, his shadows whirling around him in concern and Seraphine couldn’t help but giggle. He sent her a skeptical look. “Your sister told you he’s hot?”

“Well, not exactly,” Seraphine said, flashing him a toothy smile that had bits of chocolate in it. “I read it in her diary once but Cassian looks fine to me. When I had a fever, I couldn’t get out of bed! Should Madja also take a look at him? Just to be safe?”

“Cassian is fine.” Azriel replied, holding back a smile at the sigh of relief she let out. “You shouldn’t be reading your sister’s diary, you know.”

“But I finished all the books she bought me.” Seraphine said, waving her hands in the air in an exasperated manner. “What else am I supposed to read?”

“There’s a library here. I’m sure there are plenty of books for you to read.”

Seraphine’s eyes widened and she gasped. “Really? Can you take me?”

“Only if you finish your breakfast.” Azriel negotiated and upon the mischievous glint in her eyes, he decided to add: “The eggs and fruit. Not the stack of brownies next to you. You can save that for later.”

Seraphine hastily finished up her breakfast and when she thought Azriel wasn’t looking, she shoved a brownie into her mouth. But nothing can be snuck past the Night Court’s spymaster. He let it slide this time. Azriel rose from his seat and motioned for her to follow him toward the library and she happily complied, excited to explore more parts of the house.

As they made their way to the library, they passed by Rhysand’s study. He left his door open, lifting his head as he heard their approaching footsteps. Azriel paused briefly to send him a look, silently asking for help.

Seraphine, who hadn’t been paying attention, crashed right into Azriel. “Your skin is warm,” she told him, her hand pressing against his arm in alarm. “Are you hot too? Are you sure we shouldn’t get Madja? Maybe you and Cassian are catching something–Oh! Hello Mister High Lord!”

Rhysand chuckled. “Hello, Seraphine. It’s good to see you again.”

“Azzy is taking me to the library!” She exclaimed, her tiny wings twitching eagerly. “Do you want to come with us?”

“Yes,” Azriel nodded. “Please join us.”

“I’m sorry, little one.” Rhysand feigned a frown as he glanced down at his desk. “I have lots of work to do.”

Seraphine was in his office in the blink of an eye. She stood on her tip-toes, hands grasping the edge of the desk. Her eyes narrowed. “But there’s nothing on your desk.”

“Ah, you’ve uncovered one of the oldest tricks in the High Lord handbook.” Rhysand leaned back in his chair, adopting an air of mock seriousness. He gestured toward his empty desk. “The art of invisible workload. It keeps everything top secret. Very hush-hush.”

Azriel muffled his snort with a cough as he leaned against the doorway.

Seraphine raised an eyebrow. “y/n says lying makes your nose grow bigger.”

Rhysand chuckled, tapping the tip of his nose. “Well, my nose still remains the same size and I intend to keep it this way. Can’t have my appearance changing, being the most handsome high lord and all.”

Seraphine crossed her arms, unconvinced. “I think I know why you don’t want to come.”

“And why is that?” Rhysand replied, slightly shifting away from her scrutinizing gaze.

“It’s because you can’t handle the adventure Azzy and I are about to embark on. We’re going to uncover the mysteries of the library and learn lots like–like maybe I’ll learn where the mermaids live! Isn’t that right, Azzy?”

“Damn right,” Azriel replied, lips tugging up in amusement. It’s not every day he gets to see a seven year old sassing their High Lord.

“Come on, let’s go!” Azriel allowed Seraphine to grasp his hand and tug him forward.

Rhysand was left astounded for a moment. “You believe in mermaids but not invisible paperwork?” He mumbled to himself, not expecting Seraphine to hear him.

But she did. She turned around to face him once more with a pout. “I’m not a five year old anymore, Mister High Lord. I’m seven.”

Rhysand held his hands up, suppressing a chuckle. “My apologies, my lady. You are right. Knowledge is powerful and today, I fear, I am not up to the challenge of unraveling the mysteries of the library. But fear not, Azzy will be an excellent companion on your grand adventure.”

Azriel cast a pointed glare at Rhysand, who met it with an amused glint in his eyes. Seraphine gave Azriel’s hand another tug, guiding them out of the study and back into the hallway with a triumphant grin on her face. “I knew it,” she whispered to herself.

Seraphine was in awe once they entered the library. It was bigger than her entire house in Ironcrest and never in her life had she seen so many books in one place. Before Azriel could show her the children’s section, Seraphine was off, dashing through the library like a whirlwind. She circled a shelf and some of his shadows darted after her, which he regretted as it resulted in her running faster.

“Tag, you’re it!” She giggled as she suddenly appeared before him. She tapped him on the leg and darted away before he could even catch his breath.

Azriel was caught off guard momentarily. A rare occurrence. The shadows that remained around him curled around his ear, informing him of Seraphine’s whereabouts. Reluctantly, he followed after her, engaging in the impromptu game of tag. However, his attempts to catch her were met with acrobatic spins, agile ducking maneuvers and an uncanny ability to disappear behind bookshelves. Either she was too fast for his shadows to properly guide him or the mischievous black tendrils were on her side.

After a series of failed attempts, Azriel found himself leaning against a bookcase, breathing a bit heavier, while Seraphine continued to prance around him. Her giggles filled the once quiet library. He was moments away from suggesting a temporary truce when his shadows caught her, finally trapping her and keeping her in one spot. She squealed and continued to giggle.

There was a knock against the walls in Azriel’s mind and he allowed the talons of his friend in.

Hey, Azzy. Just thought I’d let you know that y/n is awake. She’s been awake for a while now actually but I didn’t want to disrupt all the adventure.

Madja, the Night Court’s healer, came in a couple of moments after Rhysand to check up on you. You hadn’t realized that your sudden movements earlier had caused your shoulder’s wound to bleed again and she had changed your dressings. She reminded you to not put so much stress on your injuries and assured that you would heal within a couple more days. She gave you some medicine for the pain and as she cleaned up her supplies, your ears picked up on a familiar voice.

Seraphine, excited and relieved, screamed your name as her arms reached out toward you. She ran in your direction and jumped, her wings guiding her in the movement. You braced yourself for the impact but Cassian caught her swiftly in midair with a smile.

“Careful now.” Cassian said, tickling Seraphine, who squirmed and laughed. He set her gently on the bed beside you. “Your sister is still healing from her injuries.”

“Sorry, y/n.” Seraphine sheepishly apologized.

“It’s okay,” you told her, knowing she meant no harm. You reached out to brush her hair. She was just excited to see you awake and you echoed the sentiment, relieved to have her safe and with you. You hugged her close to you, giving her a gentle squeeze as you pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Where were you? I missed you.”

“Azzy took me to get breakfast and then he showed me the library! Did you know that this house grants wishes?”

Glancing at the doorway, you noticed Azriel still standing there. He appeared a bit winded and you sent him an apologetic smile. “Thank you for watching her. I hope she wasn’t too much trouble.”

“None at all,” Azriel replied politely, nodding before silently excusing himself. The swiftness of his departure left you amused and you shared a look with Cassian, confirming that Seraphine had indeed been a handful.

You spent the next two weeks healing and resting with a very attentive Cassian by your side. He was so patient with you. He didn’t bring up your confession, choosing to wait until you were ready. He knew that what you needed the most at the moment was a friend. He helped take care of Seraphine and became well attuned to you. He recognized when you were in pain despite your attempts to hide it, bringing your medication to ease you. On nights you couldn’t sleep and tossed and turned in bed, he seemed to know you were in need of company and would be at your door before you could even go look for him.

And if it wasn’t Cassian accommodating to your needs, it was the house, bringing you water, snacks and fresh blankets. When Cassian had told you the house was sentient, you didn’t believe him at first. But upon your struggle to walk as Madja had mentioned, a cane appeared at your bedside and you were amazed. Cassian was slightly disappointed. He had enjoyed carrying you around the house a little too much.

Needless to say, Seraphine was overjoyed to be staying at the house. It appeared that the enchanted house also had a sweet spot for your sister. The room she was staying in, which was right next to yours, was flooded with books, paints, crayons and stuffed animals. Your own room was full of all the artwork she had crafted with her neverending supplies.

You weren’t surprised when Seraphine told you she didn’t want to leave and while you enjoyed your time at the house, you didn’t want to take advantage of the High Lord’s hospitality. You would stay only until you were able to find a job and save enough money for a place of your own. Seraphine couldn’t complain as the promise of you finding a new place confirmed the one thing she had been hoping for–that you two would remain in Velaris. With Cassian and his brothers, who she was growing fond of with each and every passing day.

After the third week, you were able to walk on your own with no struggle and the bruises around your neck were healed. You were finally feeling better and as much as you enjoyed the comforts of the house, you had been itching to go outside and explore the City of Starlight. Cassian was happy to oblige, gladly embracing the opportunity to show you around and help you settle into Velaris.

After flying you three down to the city’s center, Cassian had taken you to one of the schools as you had requested. You were surprised at how welcoming and easy it had been to enroll Seraphine into the school. The head director had even offered you a brief tour, leaving both you and Seraphine amazed at all the facilities and resources they had to offer. They even had a counseling service, which was something you had been wanting for your sister since she had been exposed to so much for her young age.

Seraphine’s stomach had growled as soon as you three walked out of the school, so Cassian guided you to his favorite breakfast place. He came here so often that the entire staff knew him and he was good friends with the owner.

As the three of you stepped inside, you were instantly hit with the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee–a drink you had grown to love since you first tried it a couple of days ago–mingled with the sweet scent of pastries. You followed the hostess to a table, your eyes darting around and taking note of all the vintage trinkets and paintings. The staff moved gracefully, their smiles as genuine as the handcrafted art on the walls. The place felt like home, reminding you a bit of the tavern back in Ironcrest. But better.

“Cassian! It’s so good to see you!”

“It’s good to see you too, Layla.” Cassian smiled at the sweet older female, who had approached your table.

Layla's gaze shifted to you and your sister, nestled across from Cassian. Her eyes were filled with an inviting warmth. "And who are these two lovely ladies?"

“This is y/n and her little sister, Seraphine.” Cassian introduced a touch of pride in his voice.

“Ah, so this is y/n.” Layla’s smile widened and a subtle blush painted your cheeks. “Cassian has talked about you…”

Seraphine, with wide-eyed innocence, couldn’t resist sharing her own thoughts. She looked up at Layla, placing her hand at the side of her mouth to shield her words from you and Cassian. Despite her quiet voice, you both still heard her.

“y/n writes about him all the time. I think they love each other.”

“I think so too.” Layla responded in a not-so-hushed whisper. Cassian cleared his throat. It was his turn to blush and you focused on the coffee mug in your hand, heart fluttering madly inside your chest and wondering how your little sister knew you wrote about him. Layla laughed at you two. “Well, I’ll let you enjoy your breakfast. I, unfortunately, have a lot of work to get back to. With Harold retiring, it’s been a struggle to keep this place afloat!”

Cassian’s eyes lit up, his gaze flickering between you and Layla. “If you’re in need of a replacement for him, y/n here is well experienced. She used to manage a tavern on her own.”

Layla turned her attention back towards you, her eyes hopeful. “Would you be interested in working here?”

You were looking up, eyes wide in surprise at the unexpected job offer. “Uh–yes. Yes, I would.”

“Perfect!” Layla clasped her hands together. “When can you start?”

As you walked out of the restaurant, Seraphine walked ahead of you and Cassian, excited to continue exploring the city. You nudged Cassian with your shoulder, falling into step beside him. “I owe you one.”

“That’s okay.” Cassian brushed you off nonchalantly as he ran a hand through his tousled hair. He grinned when he noticed your gaze lingering on the effortless movement. “You can just date me and we’ll call it even.”

A coy smile played on your lips. “Who will watch Sera?”

Cassian’s grin widened, catching the undertone of your question. You might as well have said yes to him. He felt warmth rush through his heart. “Az will,” he replied with a wink, nudging your shoulder the same way you had with him. “Or Rhys. We have options.”

The sun was beginning to set and as the sky darkened, the enchantment of Velaris continued to unfold. The plaza you, Seraphine and Cassian walked to came to life with a magical allure as the tiny fae lights that were delicately suspended from the surrounding buildings and ancient trees began to twinkle like stars. The gentle evening breeze carried the distant melody of fae music.

Cobbled pathways adorned with vines and blossoms led to a central fountain, its water cascading in a mesmerizing dance. Seraphine ran to it. Her eyes were wide in admiration as she glided her fingers across the water. She turned back to you in excitement.

“Here,” Cassian said as you both caught up with her. He handed her a coin, nodding his head toward the fountain. “You can use this to make a wish.”

“Like the house?”

“Kind of.” Cassian replied with a smile. “It’s not as quick as the house though.”

Seraphine clutched the coin to her chest and closed her eyes. Both you and Cassian inched closer, wanting to hear what she had to say. “I wish for–hmm, I think I have everything I want…Oh! I know. If it’s not too much to ask, could I please have another friend? One who can keep me and Scrumps company. Maybe something cute and fluffy…”

When she opened her eyes and turned back to you, you both feigned nonchalance. Cassian’s hand found yours, intertwining his fingers with yours while your other hand held onto Sera’s. He led you to a charming little ice cream shop next, the one he had promised Seraphine he’d take her to.

The bell chimed as you entered. Seraphine’s eyes widened at the colorful array of ice cream flavors, wiggling her hand out of yours. She pressed her hands against the glass. Cassian stepped beside her, reading out the words she didn’t recognize and explaining all the flavors she could choose from.

Despite the cold radiating from the ice cream display, you felt yourself melt. It struck you then–how there was no trace of fear, of unease anymore. Instead, you embraced the moment, realizing that the once-uncertain attachment to Cassian had transformed into something more…definite.

After Seraphine decided on the flavor she wanted, Cassian turned to you. “And what about you?”

“I’ll have the same as you,” you replied timidly. You had been watching him and your sister but had not been listening as he explained all the flavors. “I trust your judgment.”

The three of you found a table inside. Seraphine settled into the seat across from you and Cassian. She had opted for a scoop of chocolate fudge in the largest cone the shop had and although you had tried to steer her toward a smaller cone, Cassian couldn’t resist the puppy eyes she gave him. You had rolled your eyes, chiding him that if Seraphine couldn’t sleep at night, he’d be the one responsible. He didn’t seem to mind.

Seraphine swung her legs under the table, happily devouring her sweet treat. You resisted the urge to wipe at her smudged face and fingers, knowing that there’d be no point to do so until she was done.

“This is the best thing ever!” Seraphine exclaimed, turning her body so that she could face the window. “Way better than the hot chocolate we froze!”

“It’s a busy night,” you commented as you looked out the window too. There were a lot of people walking amongst the plaza, laden with festively wrapped packages. Children were bundled up in colorful scarves and hats. A sight you would never see in Ironcrest.

“Solstice is approaching.” Cassian said, placing an arm over the back of your chair. His lips curled up into a tender smile. He watched you, tracing the contours of your face and savoring every detail as you admired the view outside. His gaze flickered to a distracted Seraphine before returning to you.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips. You turned to him in an instant, doing your best to ignore the butterflies that awakened in your stomach. “What was that for?”

“You had a little bit of ice cream.” He said, using his free hand to motion toward the corner of his own mouth. You let out a hum in thanks and when you returned your gaze to the buzzing street outside, Cassian’s smile widened.

There had been no trace of ice cream on your face at all.

Solstice, the longest and most festive night of winter, was fastly approaching. In preparation for the celebration, Cassian had brought you and Seraphine to stay at the townhouse for the days leading up to it. The townhouse was a beautiful home in Velaris. It was the private residence of Rhysand and his family and where they primarily stayed when in Velaris, you learned. Upon your questioning, Cassian explained that he had brought you to the House of Wind first since he thought it was best while you healed.

Rhysand had gone to Hewn City and Azriel was away on a mission. Cassian had left earlier to run some errands, leaving you and Sera alone. You were in the sitting room, nestled on the comfortable and elegant couch beside Seraphine. She had a book propped onto her lap and you listened to her as she read, helping her with the words she wasn’t familiar with. She had taken a great interest in reading after starting school.

The sound of the door opening had both of your ears perking. Seraphine hopped off the couch, running to the foyer. You followed after her, steadying her by the shoulders when she tripped over the ornate red carpet. Cassian stood at the foyer and with a grin he dropped the bags in his arms. Seraphine gasped as twinkling lights, glittering tinsel, velvet ribbons and festive ornaments spilled all over the floor.

“What’s all this?”

“We’re decorating for Solstice!”

Cassian and Seraphine’s attempt at decorating could only be described as endearingly… disastrous. Tinsel clung unevenly to the walls and misshapen ornaments dangled ungracefully from the ceiling. Unable to contain your laughter, you gently nudged him aside as you took over the decorating duties.

As you meticulously rearranged the decorations, Cassian and Seraphine busied themselves with tying the extra ribbons around their hair before deciding to make hot cocoa.. You could hear them from the kitchen, lips curving up into a smile as you listened to Seraphine giving him careful instructions and Cassian’s patient responses. Their laughter and playful banter enveloped your heart in the most comforting embrace.

The three of you gathered around the kitchen table to play a board game while you drank your hot cocoa, letting Seraphine choose the game. But the game was cut short as you noticed Sera struggling to keep her eyes open.

“Alright, time for bed,” you announced.

Seraphine wiped at her eyes with a pout. “M’not tired.”

You chuckled as her actions betrayed her words, her body slumping against yours. “Come on,” you murmured softly, your fingers playfully ruffling her hair. You guided her to her feet. She continued to protest with a whine but her eyes were already closed.

“Let me help,” Cassian offered with a smile. He rose to his feet and lifted Sera into his arms. You followed after them and took over once he placed her onto the bed. Brushing her hair away from her face, you tucked her in while Cassian watched from the doorway.

As you closed the door behind you, Cassian turned to you with a charming look on his face. “We should get her a pet for Solstice. It would grant her wish of something cute and fluffy and Layla’s cat happened to give birth to adorable kittens recently…”

Your eyes narrowed as the two of you made your way back downstairs. You headed toward the kitchen to clean up. “You got her a kitten already, didn’t you?”

“It depends.” Cassian grinned sheepishly. He leaned against the kitchen counter, bracing himself with his hands. He watched as you placed the mugs you used earlier along with other used dishes into the sink. “On how you feel about having a kitten.”

You paused, a gentle smile warming the corner of your lips. “I’d be okay with that.”

Cassian stepped closer to where you stood. His hand reached for yours and he glanced down as he studied one, his fingers tracing patterns onto your soft skin. “And what do you want for Solstice?”

“I just want Sera to be happy.”

“I don’t think you understood my question,” Cassian said with a light chuckle and he looked back up. “What do you want?”

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, silence danced between you. Your eyes grew distant as you lost yourself to your thoughts. No one had ever asked you such a question before and if you were being honest, you never even gave it much thought. All your life you had been running with your mother, barely able to make ends meet. Even when she married and there was some stability in your life, you were simply content with what you had. Meeting your basic needs was enough.

However, things had changed and for the better. Velaris, a secret haven, was your new home. You had a job and Seraphine went to school. There was a roof over your heads while you looked for a place of your own. Cassian was with you and his brothers had welcomed you and your sister with open arms. You had everything you needed and much more.

Yet, there was something you wanted now that you thought about it.

A desire that had lingered deep within you, despite your efforts to push it away all those months ago. You didn’t want to push it away anymore. Cassian’s gaze lingered on you and he caught the way your eyes lit up, rekindling the spark that had drawn him on the first night he met you.

“You,” you confessed, your voice a gentle whisper that filled the space between you.

Cassian’s gaze softened and a radiant smile graced his lips. His hands released yours to grab one of the red bows you’d left on the counter and he attached it to the waistband of his pants.

“I’m all yours.”

You reached for the bow with a playful smile.

“Careful now, Sweetheart.” Cassian teased with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Once you unwrap me, there’s no give backs.”

You tugged on the bow, pulling his hips flush to yours. The room seemed to shimmer with the promise of something more as you looked into his eyes. “I love you, Cassian.”

His eyes fluttered shut and he inhaled deeply with a delightful shiver. “Say it again.”

“I love you,” you repeated, your hand cupping his cheek and he leaned into the warmth of your touch.

When he opened his eyes, they locked with yours once more. His eyes, a captivating blend of hazel, revealed a mosaic of emotions. The hues of green and brown intermingled, expressing an unspoken promise that resonated through the room. Security, patience and a love that knew no bounds.

Something snapped within you, clicking into place like the final piece of a puzzle finding its perfect spot. Your eyes widened in realization and Cassian’s expression mirrored yours and you knew he could feel it too. “You’re my–my–” your voice was a breathless whisper, tinged with startled surprise.

“Mate.” Cassian finished your sentence and he was overwhelmed with the sudden urge to bridge the small distance between you two. He lifted you up into his arms and your legs wrapped around his waist, arms finding their place around his neck.

“My mate.”

Cassian placed you on the counter, his wings caging you in and chest flush against yours. You breathed each other in and Cassian’s lips pressed deliciously against yours. Months of desire poured out of you and Cassian devoured it all, groaning into your mouth when you tugged on his hair to deepen the kiss.

You’d never felt so alive. A warm and exhilarating sensation bubbled up inside your chest. You could feel his heartbeat against yours, overpowered by the surge of emotions cursing through you–through the bond.

Cassian pulled away, doubt clouding his eyes for a faltering moment. “Are you sure you want this?”

You knew what he meant. He was talking about the bond–the golden threads tethering you to one another for life. It happened so suddenly, so unexpectedly. But you had already accepted him. You confessed your love, your heart laying bare for him. The revelation of Cassian as your fated mate was only an added blessing and you were ready to accept him.

“Yes,” your voice was so certain it made his stomach dance in anticipation. “I want you, all of you.”

Your head turned and you caught the sight of the strawberry muffins you and Seraphine had baked earlier. You reached for one and you offered it to him, fully aware of the implications of your actions. “Do you want this?”

“Yes,” Cassian said, his voice deep and gravelly. He cleared his throat before he spoke again. “I’ve never wanted--never needed anything more."

Cassian needed you from the moment he first met you at the bonfire in Windhaven. The night you two shared together only left him craving more and he would've made you his, if you hadn't run off shortly after. He spent the past seven years, thinking about you in many different ways. He prayed to the Mother that your paths would cross again and she finally answered him.

Now that he had you within his grasps again, he never wanted to let go. He was stuck on you and forever would be. He was yours, had been from the start.

With hearts full and a future together stretching out before you, you watched as Cassian took the muffin from you. His eyes remained fixed on yours as he brought it to his lips and you embraced the certainty that in each other, you found a love so profound. A precious bond. Mates.

**THE END**

bonus smut:

Cassian took a bite and then another. You licked your lips, slightly amused. You never thought you’d find someone eating a muffin to be so attractive.

When Cassian swallowed the last of the sweet treat, his gaze darkened. His pupils were blown, barely leaving any traces of greens and browns, as a primal urge to claim you as his came over him. The way he was looking at you brought a sweet ache between your thighs. Your legs, still wrapped around him, clenched instinctively and your breath hitched when you felt how hard he was.

“I need you,” he rasped, nose brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck as he kissed his way down. “I need to feel you.”

“Then have me.”

Cassian slid a hand under the skirt of your dress, squeezing gently as he made his way up your thigh. He pushed your underwear aside and his fingers teased you. “Gods, you’re so wet,” he murmured, nipping at the exposed skin of your chest. “And all for me.”

“Are you sure we should do this here?”

Cassian chuckled and he reluctantly pulled away from your chest. He lifted you up from the kitchen counter to press you against a wall instead. “Better?”

“Better than the trees of Windhaven,” you mused, referring to the first time you spent together, but you didn’t care where he took you. “Maybe one day we’ll find the bed.”

“We have all of our lives for that,” Cassian grinned, kissing your nose in promise of the future to come. “I need my mate right now.”

Cassian’s fingers then circled your clit and you sucked in a sharp breath, your body arching into him as heat coursed through your veins. Your hand was desperately unlacing his breeches.

“Mate,” you repeated and you thanked the Mother, the cauldron and all other deities you could think of for blessing you with Cassian as a mate. One hand cupped his face, bringing his lips to yours once more while the other wrapped around his thick cock. You swallowed his moan as you guided him to you.

Cassian pushed in slowly, inch by inch. Gods, he was so big. You let out a whimper at the stretch. His lips pulled away from yours, allowing you both to catch your breaths. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he purred when he bottomed out and you felt your skin heat up at the praise, blood rushing to your core. “Such a good mate, taking me so well.”

“You feel so good,” you gasped as he began to move and thrust into you. Your hands were moving all over him–his chest, his arms, his neck. They accidentally brushed against the curve of his wing and you were delighted at the whimper it drew from him. You did it again.

Cassian’s thrust grew frantic, his throbbing cock in desperate need of release. Your walls fluttered around him and he took pride at the sight of you. You were so pretty for him like this with your lips parted in bliss and drowning in pleasure. Pleasure that only he could give you.

His hands gripped roughly onto your thighs, angling you to bury his cock deeper into you. He fucked into you harder, hitting the spot that had you seeing stars mercilessly. His thumb circled your clit and you couldn’t help but let out a cry. His lips claimed yours, swallowing your moans greedily to keep you quiet. Your thighs trembled against him and his hips stuttered, wings shuddering behind him as release tore through you both.

The bond you two shared was alive and humming madly against your chests, flooding you both with unwavering love. Your arms tightened around his neck and Cassian pressed his forehead against yours, his nose brushing against yours so tenderly it had you pulsing around his sensitive cock.

“Fuck.”

“I still need more,” you whined, pure lust simmering in your gaze.

“Me too, Sweetheart.”

Your hand caressed his face and you smiled at him. “How about we finally make it to the bed, hmm?”

You let out a squeal as he tightened his hold on you and abruptly pulled you from the wall. He carried you up the stairs and all the way to his bedroom, where he took you over and over until your bodies were spent and the sun was beginning to rise just as he did the first time with you.

But this time, you didn't run off. Instead, you let him hold you close, basking in the warmth and security of his arms.

a/n: once again, thank you so much for reading! I'm still learning/figuring out how to write smut so I will gladly take any constructive criticism. Also, I will be writing an epilogue for this series so keep an eye out for that (:

tagging: @kemillyfreitas, @wallacewillow0773638 @justdreamstars @63angel @starsinyourseyes @fightmedraco

#cassian x reader #acotar x reader #acotar cassian #cassian imagines #acotar imagines #cassian angst #cassian smut #cassian fluff #cassian x y/n #cassian x you #cassian imagine #cassian fanfic #acotar

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flametrashiraarchive · 9 months

Note

Hi! Me again lol. If we're limited to how much we can ask you don't have to answer. I was wondering if you could do Giyuu x Y/N who was also a hashira but after the final battle. They're finally able to be together and months later find out they're expecting. It can be SFW or NSFW. If you're not comfortable with this I totally understand.

-☀️

Yes! Happy endings ftw.

I thought it would be cute to have this be part of the bathhouse pieces just for the sake of a throwaway joke, but this reader is specifically AFAB so please ignore it if that's not for you. It's the Bathing with Giyuu Multiverse.

I’m really sorry it doesn’t really include the pregnancy part (I alluded to it but they’re really difficult for me to write about sometimes) but I hope the love between Giyuu and you makes up for it.

This piece does contain slight spoilers for the end of the Demon Slayer manga so be warned! (spoilers from here on out!)

Also, I refuse to accept that the thing with the mark and how much time he has left is canon. It’s too sad so it doesn’t happen. You and Giyuu are gonna grow old together.

I hope you like it!!

AFTERMATH

Giyuu Tomioka x F!reader. NSFW.

Memories of your fallen comrades haunt you long after the rubble is cleared away. Nightmares of what befell those you care about wake you when you finally do manage to drift off. The scent of battle lingers on your skin for weeks. Smoke, blood, and death. No matter how many times you've tried to wash it off it clings to you.

Which is why you find yourself traipsing to the onsen in the darkness, your katana still grasped firmly in your hand, because you still can't quite believe that it's over. The battle is won, and the world is safe.

You can relax in the onsen completely safe and completely alone–

"You're kidding me?!"

Giyuu stares at you, half submerged in the steaming water, his expression one of wide-eyed surprise. But once he sees it's you, his face softens again. "Ah… is it time for our annual awkward bath together?"

You laugh for the first time in days. Giyuu has always been a little less guarded around you, but since the fight ended, he has been far more open. He's funny. Peace looks good on him.

"Do you mind if I get in?" You ask, "It's not like we haven't seen everything already."

He shakes his head. "I don't mind. We've been through hell and back together, this is nothing."

"Yeah…"

"Should I turn around?" he asks.

Oh Giyuu. Even after everything you’ve been through together; the battles, the quiet moments, the nights you spent together early on where you promised it was just once to get it out of your systems, and the times later when you both agreed you could die at any moment so why the hell not. Even after all that, he’s still a perfect and slightly awkward gentleman.

Your breath shivers as you slip off your yukata in answer and those deep blue eyes of his drink you in.

He stands, gazing up at you with his lips slightly parted. It'll take some time to get used to the sight of him without his right arm, and no doubt it'll take him even longer than that. But he's alive. You both made it. You survived.

He wades toward you and offers you his hand, helping you step down into the water. His eyes never leave you. Yours never leave him. And you both just stand there, the water only up to your hip, laid bare before each other in this newly peaceful world.

You no longer smell smoke, blood, or death. Giyuu’s scent is soft, clean rain, washing over you and carrying the horrors away.

His smile is so soft and serene your heart aches.

A muscle in his cheek flexes before he speaks. "I didn't lose you," he says, as though the fact is only just sinking in, as if he'd mourned you even before the battle had even begun and is only just allowing himself to believe you’re really there, that you really survived.

It’s a feeling you know well.

A slow smile lifts his lips, his eyes meeting yours, his sapphire gaze filled with unending tenderness. You reach up to caress his cheek and melt as he closes his eyes and leans into your touch.

"We made it, Giyuu."

"We did," he says, his voice so quiet and calm. "I should have told you this before the battle, but I was afraid to because I thought telling you would mean you wouldn't make it. Like I’d put a curse on you or something. And if you don't feel the same–"

"I love you."

His eyes widen a little, but soften a heartbeat later. He chuckles. "Yeah… yeah, you took the words out of my mouth."

"I've wanted to tell you that for the longest time."

"Me too.' He dips his chin, pressing his forehead to yours as a quiet laugh of relief emerges from him. With your heart fluttering, you close your eyes and just enjoy the sensation, and the quiet intimacy of being loved by Giyuu.

His lips hover so close to yours, gentle breaths fanning over your skin. Your heart aches with need for him as you tilt your face toward him to bring your lips closer.

He closes the gap, his kiss as light as gossamer, sending your heart into a frenzy. The kiss is so gentle it's almost painful, the fluttering in your chest more than you can bear. It shivers through every fiber of your body, more potent than any breathing technique as every cell in your body seems to sigh his name.

Giyuu. You're alive. We made it, and we can finally let ourselves love.

Little by little, the kiss deepens until Giyuu's tongue is caressing yours. His lips are soft and oh-so gentle, stirring up the butterflies in your belly. You open your eyes, seeking reassurance that this isn’t all just some dream. The intimate sight of him causes your heart to leap; his eyes are closed, his pretty dark lashes resting on his pink-dusted cheeks, so peaceful in that moment you can’t believe this is the same world which demanded so much sacrifice.

He skates his hand down to the curve of your lower back, gently pulling you closer until your bodies are flush with each other. The rise and fall of his chest staggers against yours as you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him, bathed in moonlight and the rising steam of the onsen. And though the battle only took place in one tiny pocket of the world, it feels as though you are clinging to each other among the wreckage, even here surrounded by serenity.

As much as you crave each other, you take your time and love one another slowly, washing each other with all the tenderness the world couldn’t spare you until now. You sit with your back to him as he washes your hair, his fingers deftly moving over your scalp, making goosebumps pebble along your thighs. He bows his head and weaves a cloak of kisses across your back and shoulders, making sure not to leave a single inch of you feeling unloved.

And then, when you’ve both washed away what you needed to, he takes your hand and leads you back to his home; a big, empty house waiting to be filled with the family and the love he never even allowed himself to believe he could have. The comforting scent of him lingers in the house and you feel as though you never want to leave. He doesn’t want you to go either.

Moonlight shines through the windows, casting silver light over the pair of you as you lie together in Giyuu’s bed, lost once more in tender kisses. The relief and love, the guilt of survival, the way your mind can’t quite slip fully out of fight mode… It’s overwhelming. He notices the moment your tears start to fall.

“Love… it’s okay,” he whispers, stroking them away with his thumb and you know he understands completely.

“We’re allowed to be happy, aren’t we?”

He smiles softly, and nods. “Yeah… we are.”

His breath is hot against your skin as he trails kisses over your jaw, down your throat, and to your chest. When his lips reach the top of your breast he pauses, lays down his head and closes his eyes, listening to your heart’s rhythm and your breathing with a quiet sigh. You know this will go on for a while; that no matter how often you reassure each other that this is real, that you both made it, that it’s okay for you to love each other, some part of you both will always question.

Because since when has the world ever been this kind?

“Can I love you forever?” he asks softly. “Is that okay?”

Your fingers thread through his soft black hair as he kisses down your stomach. “Please, Giyuu… please do.”

He brings you simple solace with the wet heat of his mouth. He settles between your thighs, eyes closed, lapping at your tender flesh with his fingers interlaced with yours. Soft and slow and so loving your heart can barely take it. He tastes every inch of you, drawing comfort from your sighs and the way you gasp his name. A groan emerges from him as you bear down on his tongue, grinding yourself against his gentle mouth. And only then does he quicken his pace, giving you what you need to drive you over the edge and plunging into ecstasy.

You can’t help but laugh a little as he raises his head to gaze at you. Giyuu always has the haziest, prettiest expression when he’s drunk on your pussy, and the war hasn’t changed that one bit. His cheeks are flushed pink, his lips glossy with your slick arousal.

He gets back onto the bed, lying face-to-face beside you and guides your thigh over his waist, angling his hips so he can enter you. He sets a languid rhythm, kissing you the entire time, his cock only entering you halfway so he can make it last as long as possible. He fought through hell to be here with you and he’s going to make sure he cherishes every second.

“You’re… so wet…” he gasps against your lips.

You try to bite back a grin and fail. “Yeah. That’s what happens when you fuck the water hashira.”

Giyuu’s composure breaks and he laughs–really laughs–resting his forehead against your chest. “I love you.”

Gods, what a world this is; that you get to love him, that you have the luxury of time to stop and laugh together in the middle of sex. Giyuu has such an adorably boyish laugh too; one which crinkles his nose and shakes his shoulders. It’s a sound you want to hear a billion times more over the course of your life and a sight you will never tire of.

“I love you too, Giyuu. I always will.”

He’s still chuckling until he rolls you onto your back and presses himself deeper, wiping the smiles from both your faces as pleasure drowns out your amusement. The delicious stretch pulls a groan from you, and when he starts to roll his hips you can’t help but cry out. The control he has over his body is breathtaking, and the loss of his arm doesn’t hinder him at all as he has you wrap your legs around his waist and fucks you hard and deep, filling the room with the lewd symphony of slapping flesh and your wanton cries.

Every time before, he has pulled out of you, both of you unwilling to bring a child into the world when each tomorrow was so precarious. But now he presses deeper, his eyes alight with new possibility, and love like he never allowed himself to believe in. He groans as he fills you, resting his head between your breasts and listening to the thundering rhythm of your heart as you wrap your arms around him and hold him through his orgasm.

And then you lie together in the aftermath; just you and Giyuu at the end and the beginning of it all.

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tkaulitzlvr · 7 months

Text

THE WRONG WAY - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: tom hasn’t been paying you enough attention lately, and, when you finally snap, he can’t understand where you are coming from, until you reach your breaking point. can the issues between you and him be resolved?

content: angst

a/n: pulled this out of my ass lol, i had to rush it because i’m in the middle of another req but it’s nowhere near done after like three hours of writing so i’ll have to finish and post it tomorrow. sorry if there are mistakes, i only proofread veryyy briefly cause i’m so tired rn😭 hope this is okay tho!!

"you don't love me."

i voice the harsh words to the silent room, clearly and with every sense of belief behind my statement. to my discomfort, saying it out loud does not make me feel any more at ease, in fact seeing the way tom’s entire body breaks for a second, processing what i had just said, before trying to cover the hurt on his face up, only suffocates me even more. the lump in my throat only gets bigger, the tension in the air thickening by the second.

"wow." he begins, shaking his head, trying to wrap his head around how i could even come to that conclusion. "that’s an awful accusation." he glances at me, his eyes already glossy, giving me enough of an idea on how much i have hurt him by uttering those four words. however i stick to it, figuring that it is too late to back out now. within me, behind all the anger, all the upset, i feel that it is true. i sense that he no longer feels the same way he did when he met me, all those years ago, the love within his eyes slowly diminishing until it is now long gone.

"and also." he speaks, leaning forward and looking directly into my eyes, staying in his position spread on the end of the other couch. "it's not true. you know it isn't."

the pressure of his gaze leaves me unable to hold eye contact with him, looking away sheepishly into my lap, hoping that somehow the ground could swallow me up. i grit my teeth, locking my jaw in anger, feeling no reassurance from his quick denial of my statement. so i decide to challenge him, standing my ground despite the nausea only growing within me. though his voice seems somewhat certain, i refuse to believe that i am making it up, that it is all in my head. "do i though tom?"

my eyes meet his, except the ones looking into me are foreign. they are angry, a glint of hostility present within them that i had not yet witnessed, this change taking me aback, yet i refuse to look away. he is sad. those eyes, past the resentment in them, i see pain. i see sorrow. i have upset him, far beyond what he intends to let out. he is usually strong, and perhaps right now he thinks that he is keeping this up, yet i can read him like a book, the way his left brow furrows, creating a crease along his forehead, the way his eyes cannot focus on one thing, darting around the room, i can see that he is struggling. and whilst part of me hurts with him, hating to put him through any sort of distress, i need it right now. because i am tired of feeling unloved and unappreciated - regardless of whether tom intends to make me feel this way or not.

he shakes his head, scoffing slightly in disbelief, letting out a shaky sigh, before speaking up, his voice loud, in contrast to the silent room. "what, so i've been lying every single time i’ve told you that i love you, over the past six years that we've been together? mind you, i say that every day, without fail."

i stay silent, my eyes becoming glossy as they quickly tear away from his. he takes my silence as a cue to continue, my sudden belief that he does not love me angering him as he desperately seeks to remind me of every reason why i am in the wrong. "don't i do everything for you? make sure that you're always safe, give you my everything-"

"give me your money, you mean." i reply, cutting him off. i don’t want to seem ungrateful - i appreciate the way tom would spend any amount of money on me if it made me happy. i am thankful for the house he has given me, the vacations he takes me on, the things he buys me, but those things are not the reasons why i fell in love with him. i fell for tom kaulitz. not his money, not his fame, not his profession. i fell for who he is, for him as a person, whether he is rich or poor, yet it feels that day by day i lose a small part of that. i have always understood that his job means that he will be away a lot, but it is hard to be in a relationship with someone that can't always be there, only their fortunes can.

"i’m grateful for what you do for me, really i am, but i'd much rather have time with you than the latest gucci bag, or the newest chanel perfume. if it meant that i would have to live with nothing for the rest of my life, i would do it. don't you understand? i want you - not your money tom! i don't need you to apologise with gifts when i don’t see you all day, i just...i need you." i am desperate, craving for him to hear me out, to understand that it is him that i need, but the way he looks at me in confusion shows me that i am not going to achieve that.

"i thought you liked the things i buy for you. have you been lying?" he completely ignores the point that i have been trying to make, this only fuelling the frustration within me as i exhale shakily, quickly grasping onto the opportunity to argue my point once again.

"i do but that's not the point tom! i like them because i feel like it's all i get from you!" my voice is raising, something which i did not want to happen. shouting never solves the problem, however right now i am far too angry to care. "i just want some of your time, to feel like you actually care! when you're with me, you're here physically, but your mind is always elsewhere. i just miss you. i need to you be mine again, i-"

"look, i’m sorry okay?" he begins, harshly cutting me off and matching the volume in my voice. "i'm sorry that my job is more demanding than others, i’m sorry that it needs a lot of my attention, but i told you this from the beginning. my career is a big part of who i am and things aren't always easy. they get hard, they get tough, but-"

"that's my problem! when things get hard for you, i don't fucking know about it! because you shut me out, every. single. time. i'm your girlfriend, tom. i want to know about your life, i want to help you, but you always run away from me! you spoil me with gifts and money to compensate for every fucking time you leave me in the dark! i don't want it anymore. i just want you to communicate!" i move from the couch, walking to the middle of the room and standing a few feet away from him. his eyes are glued to me, watching my every step, and he is listening to me this time. "am i such a headache to be around, that you can't talk to me? that you can't deal with spending time with me, so instead you spend your money to try and shut me up, because you have so much that no matter what you buy, it doesn't affect you?"

"don't." he voices shakily as i stare into his eyes, his expression more wounded than ever. my words stab into him, hitting him harder than i had anticipated. his fists clench against his thighs, holding every ounce of frustration. though we have argued in the past, i have never seen him this upset, regardless of whether he intends to show it visibly or not. "you know that i don't think of you that way, even for a second. so stop."

"you can't blame me for thinking it tom." i shrug. "you leave me out of everything, i have no idea what's going on in your life anymore-"

“because i'm trying to fucking protect you!" he interrupts, raising his voice once again. his hand slams against the arm of the couch, the sudden contact causing me to wince slightly. "i'm sorry if you feel like i'm hiding things from you. but i know parts of my life would just stress you out and hurt you. don't you get that? i'm trying to save you from the pain-"

"i want the fucking pain!" i fire back. "we are supposed to be in a relationship. do you know what that means? i want to suffer with you. i would choose that, a million times over, if it meant that i could be with you for another day. i want every part of you, the sad, the happy, the angry, i want it all. can't you see that i need you? i hate being left in the dark. i absolutely fucking hate it.”

my voice pierces through his ears, diminishing the tense silence as tom gulps, clenching his jaw and leaning forwards, pinching his nose with his thumb and pointer finger. the rash and quick responses don’t allow me time to calm down, my eyes becoming glossy with tears, the salty liquid staining my cheeks before i can try to hold them back, my weakness just as evident as tom’s. the pain, the upset, the lack of affection that have been feeling all spills out, reeling outwards from within me as i let it out, no longer attempting to hold back.

he looks up, his face softening as he takes in my hurt expression. he has never seen me like this, so broken, and the fact that he is the cause of this pains him even more, his mind coming to the slow realisation that it is up to him to fix this. although he doesn’t fully understand how i could possibly believe that he does not love me, he wants to try, to try and see from my eyes. he lets out a shaky sigh, swallowing nervously before looking into my eyes.

"i would rather feel the sadness, suffer with you." i begin, my voice small as the tears quickly take away my physical strength. "i would do absolutely anything if it means that you will love me, that you will do it with me, tom."

"i don't live a normal life, and i just want to keep you away from the crazy things." he speaks slowly, trying to reason with me, refusing to turn his gaze away from mine. "some people want to hurt me, and i would never forgive myself if someone ever did anything to harm you."

i try to wipe my tears and calm my breathing, wrapping my arms around my small frame in an attempt to comfort myself, quickly becoming overwhelmed with the situation. but my mind acknowledges tom’s change in tone. not only is he more gentle and calm, he also seems sorry, like he now recognises where he went wrong.

"what do you want me to do?" he whispers, defeated as his tired eyes meet mine. he is no longer angry. he is desperate, longing to resolve this. "i'll do anything. i- i can't lose you. you're my world, schatz, and i'm sorry if i haven't shown it, but you are everything to me."

though there are millions of things i could say, i stay silent, standing still across the room. my heart clenches painfully, hurting at the sight of him so distraught, as his mind considers the dreaded idea of what losing me would be like. his world is crumbling before him, the one thing he seeks to protect seeming to slip through his fingers. i have never seen him like this, so vulnerable, so desperate, and whilst it comforts me to know that he is slowly letting down the walls that have prevented me from truly being with him, it saddens me to see him in such a distraught state.

"all i've ever wanted is to keep you safe. to keep you happy, liebe, because if you're happy then so am i. but you deserve more than this." he points to himself angrily, letting out a shaky sigh. "more than this fucking idiot, who doesn't even know how to love. i’m so sorry if i've done it the wrong way and made you feel like i don't care. because you shouldn't for a second think that i don't love you."

everything that i have been craving to see is happening in front of me. i have longed to see him open up, to break down the barriers that separate us both physically and mentally. i don’t want him to be strong all the time, and it hurts that he feels he has to be. the tears fall from my bloodshot eyes once again - this time out of sadness for him. i hurt with him, hating to see him so upset, but i understand his pain, his anger, and i feel every emotion along with him. for the first time in forever, i feel connected with him.

after a few moments of silence, he stands up, slowly walking towards me. i refuse to meet his gaze, fearing that i will break down once again i realise how hurt he truly is, and looking into his eyes will certainly display every emotion amongst his beautiful features. his hand brushes tenderly against my cheek, wiping a fresh tear that had fallen. he reaches towards my chin, using his pointer finger to angle my face upwards so it meets with his eyes. he towers over me, taking in the sorrow etched upon my face, before tucking the loose strands of hair behind my ears, gently caressing my cheek with his lips slightly parted, shaky breaths escaping from them.

"please, look at me." he whispers, gazing longingly into my eyes. i comply, shifting my own eyes to the deep brown ones in front of me. they are full of adoration, and i feel the man that i fell in love with slowly coming back to me. "i love you, so so much, please believe me schatz. you are the most important person in my life, and i am so sorry that i've made you feel the opposite way." he chokes up, his voice shaky as i can tell he is on the verge of tears.

i listen to him, allowing every word to sink in, as it is now no longer hard to trust what he says. i feel what i have been desperate to - love. i feel truly appreciated, like i am able to confide in him like i once could. though frustrated it took the both of us to get to this state to make him speak his mind, i appreciate him opening up, his apology making up for the lost time. there is no shame in being fragile, and through his entire conversation, we have both learned this, a new found appreciation for each other gained as i feel safe again.

"don't feel like you have to keep things to yourself. i’m your girlfriend, i'm supposed to be here for you, and i'll gladly do it, but you have to talk to me." i respond, lacing my hand with his. a soft smile spreads across his face, contrasting with his bloodshot eyes whilst he slowly nods.

"i hear you. i’m so sorry baby. i love you." he whispers, pulling me into a tight hug as his hands lace together around my waist. he lets out a sob onto my shoulder, my heart breaking at the sound. he clutches onto me tighter as if i may slip away, my own eyes tearing up once again. it has been a while since i felt like this. i feel loved, and it is all that i have ever wanted from the start.

he slowly pulls away, resting his forehead against mine and looking into my eyes through his eyelashes. after a few seconds, he leans inwards, until his lips touch mine. the kiss is gentle, carrying every promise to love and cherish me like he has failed to do, and i gladly accept it, kissing back quickly and wrapping my arms around his neck. he pulls away, planting a few pecks on my lips once again, his breath shaky as the remnants of tears stick to his cheeks. i slowly wipe them away, not breaking eye contact as i do so, gently caressing the soft skin until any trace of sadness is lost within our newfound love for each other.

a soft smile graces his lips, failing to wither as he kisses me once again, the same amount of passion as the last, making up for the lost affection as i feel more treasured than ever. this is all I have ever wanted, to feel like he cares, and now that i am feeling his affection, my mind is oozing with contentment, the feeling almost foreign it has been so long.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

#tom kaulitz #kaulitz twins #tokiohotel #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz angst #kaulitz #tom kaulitz fluff #tomkaulitz #tom kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz

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mechformers · 1 year

Text

Ma Miles - Ch. 16

6.7k words

Chapter Warning: Wound dressing, mention of bruised bones/ribs, cuts, talking about Neteyam being shot.

I um... I can't believe we've reached 70k lol What happened? XD Had anyone told me that I would ever write a slow burn this slow, I would have never believed them. Yet... here I am. Thanks a lot, Slang! To everyone who has read, is reading, or is going to read, thank you, thank you, thank you so much!! <3 As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts!!

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Previous chapter | Masterpost | Chapter 17

The sound that leaves you when the people part for the small boy running towards you could only be described as heartwrenching, even to your own ears, Spider’s bruised frame sprints forward with only one goal in mind as you fall to your knees in the wet, warm sand. You just manage to open your arms before he’s wrapped around you, his small but strong arms holding onto you for dear life as you press your face into the crook of his neck, sobbing openly. Rocking the both of you slowly, you breathe him in, letting your hand cup the back of his messy head while you press his smaller body to your frame. There’s a small voice in the back of your mind that tells you to ease up, to let his smaller body get space to breathe, but in your desperation, you’re unable to let go of him.

“Son?” Distantly, you recognize the wounded, high-pitched voice of Jake Sully, but it’s not before you lift your head to take a deep breath that you notice that the Toruk Makto has rushed past the Olo’eyktan to hold his own son. The sound of the strong man’s quiet sobs pierces something deep within you and you can only imagine the relief of seeing your child alive when you have believed him to be dead.

He’s whispering thanks and blessings to the Great Mother when Neytiri comes rushing through the crowd, no doubt reacting to her mate’s distressed sounds. It doesn’t take long for her own shrieks of pain and disbelief to come forth as she stumbles on unsteady legs toward her son and mate. With her hand outstretched, Jake Sully takes it, pulling her into the hug he’s refusing to end with their son. Neteyam’s grunt when his mother collides with them is painful, but the reunion goes on, the young man refusing to let go of his parents. Smiling through your tears, you watch as the rest of the children join them, happy cries and grabby hands creating a tight bubble around Neteyam. It’s heartwarming to see the young man be cuddled and loved like this.

Stroking Spider’s head, you close your eyes as you feel his small but fierce heart pounding away against your chest. Your son has stopped crying, his small sniffles sounding every now and then as he clings to you. His cheek is resting against your collarbone, his mask digging in painfully, but you couldn’t care less. Your son was finally here with you, his small body clinging to you as you held him. You can’t imagine the pain and hurt he’s been through the past few weeks, or how scared he must have been. Kissing his messy head, you whisper small thank you’s as you get to your feet, still holding him close.

“You saved him,” Jake Sully mumbles, his sharp eyes piercing into yours from your short distance, reaching a hand out for you to join them.

Slowly, you approach your old Olo’eykatan with Spider in your arms, only to be pulled into the hug when his strong hand wraps around your elbow. His forehead presses firmly against yours as he holds you close, whispers of thanks leaving his lips as he breathes deeply. Neytiri repeats the motion when her mate eventually lets up, her eyes piercing into yours as she thanks you, the motion foreign to you.

“Mo’at was the one who saved him,” You whisper back, hearing Jake Sully’s soft intake of air as his head leaves the tight bubble you’ve all created, “I just found him,”

Neytiri lifts her head too and it’s only then that she sees her mother standing with the Olo’eyktan. Mo’at steps forward when another wounded sound leaves Neytiri and you watch as the older woman crumbles in her mother’s arms when she embraces her daughter. At that moment your heart bleeds for Neytiri and what she’s been through. You can only imagine the pain and sorrow she must have experienced while believing her son dead, only to be able to embrace his beating heart once more. To be able to be comforted by her mother and for the Tsahìk to embrace her the way she now does…

“Y/n had already saved Neteyam by the time they reached the Omatikaya clan, all I could do was help him heal faster” Mo’at hums to her daughter and Neytiri’s head whips around to stare at you again. Holding her mother’s hand, she reaches for yours with the other, pressing your hand to her chest.

“Thank you, sister,” Neytiri’s words are spoken with such vulnerability, with such gratitude that it takes you by surprise.

“It was the least I could do after your family protected my son,” You squeeze her shoulder where she still holds your hand to her chest, smiling warmly up at her.

Neytiri is unable to meet your eyes, her eyes instead focused on the blond mop of hair that is your son in your arms, but you don’t think much of it. It’s been a stressful time for both of you and in all honesty, you’re beyond exhausted. When Neytiri lets go of your hand, you turn back to the Metkayina Olo’eyktan, greeting him properly this time whilst still holding onto Spider, refusing to let your son go.

“I come seeking your help. My companion is hurt and he…-” You start slowly only for the Olo’eyktan to hold up his hand for you to stop.

“Your Tsahìk has already explained your situation,” He starts, only for Jake Sully to step up to him.

“She is Omatikaya, Tonowari. I will take full responsibility if you can offer her companion help,” He declares and for a split second, your heart soars with pride and gratitude for your old Olo’eyktan.

“Toruk Makto,” You say politely, your ears bent close to your skull as you wrap your tail around your thigh, the pose as submissive as you can manage with Spider still in your arms, “You will not approve of who he is,”

And with that, you put Spider down in the sand as you walk over to Hawnu. The demon’s head is resting on the other side of Hawnu’s back, blissfully hidden, and with the new tweng and cloak, he doesn’t immediately stand out unless anyone cared to look at his feet or hands. Taking hold of the demon’s short hair, you take a deep breath before lifting his head up for your Toruk Makto to see.

Immediately, there’s an outcry from the Olo’eyktan and Neytiri, and then from behind, the Metkayina Tsahìk hisses furiously as she comes up to stand beside her mate. Your eyes, however, are only trained on Neytiri as she pulls her blade and comes running towards you - or rather, towards the demon. Flipping Spider onto your back, you step between Neytiri and the demon, hissing ferociously at her as you pull your own blade out to protect your own small family.

“Step aside, sister,” Neytiri sneers, her anger, and fury petrifying as it’s directed at you.

“No,” You try to sound brave, but your voice comes out unsteady and small as it leaves your lips, your fear so obvious to everyone around you.

“He drowned,” Jake Sully says, his face crumbling in a frown as he pulls Neytiri back by her shoulder. “I drowned him,”

“I couldn’t just leave him, Sir,” Spider speaks up from your back and just like that, your fear disappears, replaced by a resolve so strong even the Great Mother couldn’t take it away from you.

“You couldn’t just… -” Jake Sully starts but stops abruptly, pinching the bridge of his nose as he squeezes his eyes shut.

“Lo’ak and I were looking for you when the ship went down and I found him on the bottom of the sea just lying there,” Spider continues, his voice desperate, “He’s my father, Sir,”

Closing your eyes, you let your mind go through every possibility before you make up your mind. Hawnu was close by, the demon already on his back if you needed a quick escape. Opening your eyes again, you stare directly into Jake Sully’s eyes as you sheath your blade.

“You were once a demon from the skies, now; you are Toruk Makto, the leader of our people, a child of Eywa,” You present so forcefully that his ears slick back against his skull while his tail whips behind him. The challenge is clear as day in Jake Sully’s eyes, but he still looked conflicted.

“It’s not up to me to decide anymore, Y/n,” He mumbles as he steps aside.

“Ma Jake, what are you saying?” Neytiri turns to him, her rage almost brimming over as she can’t believe what she’s hearing.

“Olo’eyktan of the Metkayina clans, I come to you seeking help. Will you help me?” You direct your question to the leader, not knowing if you want him to agree or not. You watch as the Olo’eyktan looks down at his own furious mate, at Neytiri’s anger, and then at Jake, his face just as conflicted as your heart.

“I will not leave his side,” Jake Sully offers, making Neytiri cry out in outer outrage at her mate’s words.

“Then we will offer help,” The Olo’eyktan says reluctantly before turning to send some of his men ahead.

Gently, you let Spider down from your back, watching as he steps up to greet Hawnu before moving over to Cupcake, the female ikran greeting him excitedly with small welcoming chirps as she nudges her head against his body. Stepping closer to Hawnu, you take a deep breath as you prepare to haul the demon’s huge mass over your shoulders again, only for Jake Sully to move closer with outstretched arms, intending to help you.

But when you whip around and hiss at him, he steps back, holding his hands up, much in the same manner that the demon does. You’re still not sure what the motion means, but you figure it has something to do with meaning no harm. Although you would have liked to get help with carrying the demon, you don’t trust your old Olo’eyktan not to attempt to kill him again. Not after what he had just admitted to doing.

“She is strong, Jakesully,” Mo’at steps forward, resting her hand on his shoulder, “She will need no help with the demon,”

You don’t understand what the Tsahìk means by that but as the demon’s heavy weight slides over Hawnu’s back to fully rest on you, you couldn’t care less as you try to keep upright. You follow the Olo’eyktan to a marui pod on the outskirts of the village, the sea surrounding all but one side of it. Only one way in, only one way out, you think as you walk on tired legs. Spier holds your tail as he follows closely behind you, not yet ready to let go of you. Behind him, Jake Sully and Neteyam follow you, much to Neytiri’s great displeasure. You have a growing suspicion that this isn’t the Tsahìk’s marui pod at all.

It’s a suspicion that is confirmed when you enter the marui pod. To your surprise, the people the Olo’eyktan sent away are waiting for you inside, their shoulders squared as they stare at the demon on your shoulders. In the middle of the pod, a woven mat and supplies for the Tsahìk are set up, yet, the Tsahìk herself, is missing.

On wobbly legs, you crumble to your knees as you try your best not to drop the demon. Spider is still holding your tail, his grip harder as he refuses to let go when you bend down, trying your best to gently slide the demon off of you. It doesn’t work. It never has. With a hard thud, the demon’s bottom hits the mat before the rest of his body follows, much like an overripe banana fruit falling to the ground. Deep within you, you feel sympathy when his head hits the woven mat hard, his kuru trapped between the two.

Stepping back, you pull Spider’s head to your middle, your son still refusing to let go of your tail. His grip on you tightens when the Metkayina Tsahìk enters the pod, Mo’at closely following behind the two. The Tsahìk sneers at the demon until the Olo’eyktan, her mate, squeezes her shoulder while leveling her with a look that seems to pull her anger back from the surface.

“The demon does not deserve the Great Mother’s healing,” The Tsahìk hisses while scowling up at her mate.

“Ronal…” The Olo’eyktan hums, but his voice only seems to anger her more.

“He took our daughter,” The Tsahìk, Ronal, growls, and the news goes straight through your chest, pushing a wounded whine through your lips as you hold back fresh tears.

The demon’s betrayal seemed never-ending the more you learn about the events of that day. It colors him in a light you’ve only heard whispered before, colors him in stories from a war long since passed. This… this being before you is not the man you had come to know, yet, it undeniably still was.

“The demon has been touched by the Great Mother, Tsahìk,” Mo’at hums gently, using Ronal’s title politely, one Tsahìk to another.

“The Great Mother would not touch the likes of him,” Ronal hisses back, her finger pointing shakily at the demon.

“The Great Mother touched me,” Jake Sully offers softly, making all heads snap toward him. “And as Y/n said, I was once a demon from the skies, just like him,”

“The Toruk Makto is right,” Mo’at continued, “Eywa has spoken. As Tsahìk, it is not up to us to challenge her will,”

Ronal hisses furiously as she clutches her head, the battle so obvious to everyone in the room. Mo’at eventually takes pity on the younger Tsahìk when she steps forward, a gentle hand resting on Ronal’s forearm.

“With your permission,” She looks at Ronal and her mate before continuing, “I can offer him healing,”

Immediately, Ronal’s expression softens, gratitude washing through her body. Grabbing Mo’at’s wrist, she breathes a deep sigh before accepting her mate’s open arms, letting herself be hugged by the Olo’eyktan.

“Thank you,” The Olo’eyktan offers, his smile genuine and soft. “I will make sure that you have everything you need,”

“I will join you to Ronal’s marui to collect what I need before returning,” Mo’at hums, inclining her head minutely in appreciation.

Watching Mo’at disappear with the Tsahìk and Olo’eyktan, you let your breath out before sitting down, crossing your legs before you as you make room for Spider to sit. Jake Sully bends down to sit beside you, Neteyam tightly nestled between his own thighs as he holds his son tightly to his chest.

“How is he?” Jake Sully eventually asks as the silence stretches on.

“The demon will live,” You start, your voice unsteady, “Maybe,”

“What happened when you left?” Your old Olo’eyktan continues, his voice gentle as he stares at you.

Turning your head to actually look at him, noticing how he’s looking at you with genuine worry. His ears have rotated toward you, open and rounded, while his tail slaps lazily behind him, the soft thumping soothing as it hits the woven ground of the marui pod. It reminds you of the shame he had displayed when he had come to you with the news of Spider being taken, and just like that, your disappointment in him returns.

“Why do you care?” You huff back at him as you narrow your eyes, your hand cupping the back of Spider’s head, pressing him closer to your chest.

“Ouch… I guess I deserved that one,” Jake Sully winces, his ears pinning down flat against his skull.

The silence stretches between you while you hold your sons against your bodies, reveling in the way their hearts beat against your chests, in the way their lungs push air through them before gently letting them out. Spider and Neteyam are fast asleep where they’re held against your bigger bodies, your son’s exhausted with being strong and just like that, while looking down at them, the two of you seem to come to the same realization.

Although they were both young adults, they were still children, burdened with fighting the horrors of a war they should have never been involved in, to begin with. Although they were old enough to find mates, to go off on their own and be their own master, they were still too young to have experienced everything that they had. Holding Spider closer, you bend your head back as you feel guilt and sorrow wash through you. They had both been through a lot, had been brave and fearsome for their younger siblings and friends, for their parents. You recognized that it would take time for them to heal, time for them to work through their trauma, and to learn how to be children again before they would be able to confidently stand on their own two legs as adults.

“I went to Hell’s Gate, only to find it deserted, so I found the gates of Bridgehead City and demanded to see Colonel Miles Quaritch,” You eventually offer, a peace offering to a man who’s treated your people well.

“You did what?” Jake Sully’s head snaps to the side to stare at you so fast, you can almost hear the pain in his neck.

“They brought me to one of their bright, cold rooms with the see-through metal doors. I don’t know how long it took, but eventually, they brought Spider to me, unharmed. A deal was made to teach the recom unit the Na’vi way, to teach them to accept Eywa in their hearts and souls,” You continue quietly, noting how Jake Sully hangs on every word you say.

“And they did,” You followed, turning your head to look back at the Toruk Makto, “They learned to accept Eywa in their hearts and in their souls.”

The silence stretches once more as you let the words sink in. Jake Sully remains silent, his eyebrows furrowed in deep thought as his mind mulls over what you have just said. To your surprise, he lets you collect yourself, lets you continue with your story without uttering a single word.

“They learned to be Na’vi, each one getting to find themselves as if invisible bonds that had held them back fell away. Slowly, they started to appreciate what the Great Mother has created, each one finding their way, discovering what they were good at, and starting to contribute to the unit,” You continue, your voice growing fond as a ghost of a smile crosses your lips. It’s clear to everyone in the marui that you cared deeply for them.

“I don’t know what happened,” You eventually whisper, your heart breaking once more as you avert your eyes, closing them as you bend your head, resting your lips against Spider’s head, breathing him in to calm yourself.

“I’m sorry I allowed them to take Spider in the first place,” Jake Sully offers, his voice so soft you almost think you imagined it, “You have a strong heart Y/n, a strong spirit. It’s no wonder Hawnu chose you all those years ago.”

Mo’at walks in with supplies in her arms then, the Olo’eyktan follows closely behind her with even more stuff in his arms. Your Tsahìk directs the younger Olo’eyktan to - gently - put the supplies down when his first attempt earns him a disapproving tut from her. Mo’at looks over at your sleeping sons before guiding the Olo’eyktan to sit beside Jake Sully before she starts arranging the supplies the way she wants them. To your surprise, the big man does as he’s told with a respectful nod of his head.

“She always this firm?” The Olo’eyktan whispers once he’s crossed his feet beside Jake Sully.

“You should have seen her when I mated Neytiri,” Jake Sully whispers back, a fond grin on his face.

“I can hear you…” Mo’at hums unamused as she raises her eye at the two.

The boyish grins on the two men’s faces have you shaking your head. Seeing this freer side of the Toruk Makto makes something inside of you shift. You realize that he was cast into the role of Olo’eyktan after Tsu’tey’s death in the battle for the Vitraya Ramunong, a role he was never meant to have, yet, one he did his best to fulfill. Being from the stars, from this planet Earth, Jake Sully had done well by your people as a leader, had given everything to protect and defend them.

Watching as Mo’at mixed herbs, pastes, and salves, preparing leaves and cleaning bowls, you let your mind go pleasantly blank for the first time in what felt like forever. The sea beyond the marui pod washes up against the roots, creating a comforting sound, yet, you keep your eyes closed as you hold your sleeping son close. Mo’at distantly hums about bruised bones and ribs, huffing to herself about how such a big man could be this fragile. After a while, the Olo’eyktan gets up to his feet to resume his duties as leader, promising to bring food after the community meal is finished.

By the time you open your eyes again, Mo’at has finished up, the demon draped in a blanket with his wounds and bruised bones dressed. Jake Sully is staring at him, his face conflicted as his mind races silently while he holds onto a still-sleeping Neteyam, the young man so obviously beyond exhausted. Looking down at Spider, the most beautiful brown eyes you have ever seen in your life stares back at you through the mask.

“I see you,” You whisper gently as you cup your son’s face, smiling down at him.

“I see you, mom,” Spider replies, a soft smile of his own as he’s looking up at you.

“Are you well?” The question makes him frown for a moment before he nods his head.

“I’m tired,” He responds before frowning, “Will he be alright?”

“Your father will be just fine,” You smile reassuringly back at him, noting how his face opens with delight when you acknowledge the demon as his father.

“I don’t know what happened, mom,” Spider whispers, his small, strong hands fiddling with your braid, “One moment he was fine and then he just… snapped?”

“It’s alright, Spider. His actions are not your fault,” You comfort him, trying your best to make him understand that he had no part in his father’s doings.

“When he took me, he went after more villages and when no one said anything, he sent the sky people out to hunt the tulkuns, mom,” Spider’s voice is so small it makes your heart break for him.

“Did he kill any of them?” You dread the answer, but you need to know.

“No,” Jake Sully replies instead, “They wounded Ronal’s spirit sister, forcing her and her young calf to the surface, leaving them for me to find. The mother and calf are healing well,”

Closing your eyes, you’re unable to keep back the wounded sound that leaves you. It feels as if your strength is leaving your body as your heart mourns for the man you had come to know. Anger and betrayal filled its place, poisoning what was left of the hope you still held onto.

“He killed the Olo’eyktan’s ilu before burning the Ta'unui village down, but he stopped the sky people from doing what they usually do with the tulkun,” Spider offers and although it should have been a small relief to know that he had ordered the sky people to stop the hunt, it wasn’t.

“He got my attention, which was what he wanted,” Jake Sully huffs humorlessly, “He went after another tulkun later on, and while our kids tried to save it, he managed to take three of them,”

“Lo’ak, Tuk and Tsireya, Ronal and Tonowari’s daughter,” Sider mumbles shamefully, his voice so small.

“It wasn’t your fault, bro,” Neteyam adds sleepily, his voice rough from just having awoken.

“I could have done something, I should have done more…” Spider counters and it makes Neteyam huff humorlessly, much like his father.

“Like what, gotten yourself killed?” The deadpan expression Neteyam sends him makes your son growl. Had he been born with ears and a tail, they would be slicked back and thrashing.

“When Payakan, Lo’ak’s tulkun, crashed the ship, me and Lo’ak went looking for Spider. That guy, Prager, and the bald one came after us with their guns, but the bald one didn’t really shoot at us, his aim was horrible,” Neteyam chuckles, as he grins.

“Wainfleet is a decorated marksman, Neteyam,” Jake Sully offers, but you don’t understand what it means. “If he had wanted you dead, you would have been dead with the first bullet he fired,”

The truth of the words brings a silence over the marui pod as the reality of what could have happened sinks in. Closing your eyes, you hold Spider’s head close to you in an attempt at comforting yourself while you let yourself hope that Lyle had missed with the intent of not hurting the children. At best, it was a hope to comfort yourself as the man was no more.

“What you did was stupid,” Jake Sully grounds out, his voice angry before he sighs and presses Neteyam’s head to his chest again, “But I have never been more proud to call myself your father,”

“That goes for you too, Lo’ak,” The Toruk Makto raises his voice before turning his head to look toward the seaside opening of the marui pod. “Come on out, son,”

Lo’ak’s head pokes out from the brim of the pod, his ears flat against his head as he slowly, but surely steps out from where he had been hiding. The boy’s tail is wrapped tightly against his thigh as he’s unable to lift his head or meet his father’s eyes.

“Are you not angry, Sir?” Lo’ak all but whispers, his ears rotating toward his father before snapping back again.

“Oh, I’m furious,” Jake Sully chuckles as a grin spreads across his face, “And the two of you will be grounded for life, but I have never been more proud in my life,”

Reaching out a hand for his youngest son, Jake Sully waits for his words to sink in and when they do, Lo’ak’s head snaps up with confusion as he stares at his father. Reluctantly, he steps forward, one foot at a time until he’s within his father’s reach. He’s helpless against the hand that grabs his waist and before he knows it, he’s pulled down into his father’s lap.

Smiling at the display before you, you watch as Jake Sully breathes in the scent of his boys as he holds them close, but most of all, you smile at the way Lo’ak curls up against his older brother, his smaller hands holding onto him for dear life. You can’t imagine how he must have felt when he thought he had lost his brother, but by the way silent tears fall from his clenched shut eyes, the loss had been painful in a way he has been unable to express. Neteyam wraps him up as well as he’s able to, holding onto his brother as they rest against their father’s chest. You lose time of how long you sit there, but when Mo’at returns to the marui pod, Neytiri follows behind.

“Ma Jake, you must come home,” She demands, her eyes not leaving the demon on the ground.

“Neytiri, I can’t do that. I promised I wouldn’t leave Quaritch’s side,” Jake Sully sighs, his ears flat against his skull as his arms tighten minutely around his sons.

“The demon should die for what he has done,” Neytiri hisses, uncrossing her arms as she points at him.

It brings an instantly furious growl from your lips as you jump to your feet to stand between them, blocking Neytiri’s path. The Toruk Makto doesn’t get up from the floor, but his deep sigh is enough to bring Neytiri’s focus back on him.

“Neytiri, Eywa has spoken and I have given my word to Tonowari, I will not break it,” He speaks with a patience you do not feel, “My word is all I have left, Neytiri,”

Jake Sully’s vulnerability seems to touch something deep within her as Neytiri growls and whines before clutching her head in frustration, her ears pinning back helplessly. Had you been able to move from your current place, you would have offered the older woman comfort, but as you are, you stand frozen before the demon with your son on your hips, tucked away from Neytiri. In the end, Neytiri lowers her arms as she helplessly looks at you, her eyes wide and filled with fear, and just like that, you can’t blame her.

“Thank you, sister,” Your voice is soft as you speak, your hand reaching out to hold her when she tightly grasps it.

Neytiri is unable to say anything, but her hand clutches yours before the other one comes up to cover your clasped hands. Her eyes have softened when she looks down at you. She looks lost and you understand that feeling. From one mother to another, you share in her desperation to keep your kid safe, to ensure that they have the best paths laid before them. Although he Great Mother had spoken, you did still not know if saving the demon would be the right one for Spider, for the whole of Pandora, but when you close your eyes at night, it is his touch that you feel behind you and just before you open them again, it is his sharp eyes that you see, leaning in to share his love with you.

Releasing your hand, Neytiri walks over to sit beside her mate and sons, her arms wrapping around both Neteyam and Lo’ak as she breathes him in, reveling in his smell. Jake Sully smiles gently before looking behind you where Mo’at works unbothered by her daughter's temper tantrum, seemingly used to it. She has pulled the blanket down from the demon’s chest, revealing the smattering of leaves protecting the pastes and salves beneath. You watch as his chest rises and falls in deep rest, the man far away from his present predicament.

“What happened next,” Jake Sully hums into the silence, his eyes sharp as he stares at nothing in particular, but his voice leaves little doubt about where he’s going with this.

“Spider and I went to look for you, diving around the ship in hopes to find you. We split up and then… Well, I found you,” Lo’ak started, refusing to lift his head from Neteyam’s shoulder.

“And then I found him,” Spider continues, his eyes filling with tears as he clutches harder onto your braid, “At first I left him. He’s caused so much pain, so much suffering and I just… Everyone would be so much better without him, but mom, he’s my father,”

Spider’s tears are falling, fat and clear, as he squeezes his eyes shut, afraid to see your reaction. Shuffling him over to your front, you wrap both arms around him as he sobs. Behind your back, his small hands find your braid again as he clutches onto it tightly, his small legs locking at the small of your back. Shushing him, you cup the back of his head while comforting him, feeling your heart clench painfully at the fact that there is nothing you can do to help him except to just be there for him. Eventually, he lifts his head from your shoulder as he looks up at you, tears hanging from his big brown eyes and you can find no fault in his reasoning.

“I know, I know,” You smile down at him, bending to rest your forehead on his through the mask on his face, “It’s alright,”

When you lift your head from his, even Jake Sully seems like he reluctantly agrees with your son’s compassion. Neytiri’s still scowling, but her features don’t look as hard as they previously had, the older woman obviously struggling to find fault in your son’s reasoning, despite the fact that his father is such a man.

“I got him out of the wreck and up to the surface, pulling him with me to the nearest rock, but by then he was already waking up. He asked me to come with him, mom, but I couldn’t go with him,” Spider continues, his voice growing sadder with each word, “He looked so sad when I left him, mom,”

The confession breaks you, the sudden intake of air into your lungs threatening to choke you. He had asked Spider to come with him, had even looked sad when Spider refused, leaving him behind for Cupcake to deal with. Could there still be something within him that longed for the life he had turned his back on? Turning your head, you stare at the demon, noting how carefree he looks in his sleep. It’s not the peaceful rest he had worn before, but like this, he looks as if there’s still hope for change in him.

“I’ll find a way, Spider,” You whisper into his hair, closing your eyes as you breathe him in to calm yourself, “I swear, I will find a way,”

The promise seemed to calm your son’s nerves as the death grip he had on your kuru eased. You have a need to bounce him in your arms like you did when he was a baby, but you bite your cheek to refrain from doing so, reminding yourself that he was on the cusp of adulthood. Still, the need resided deep within you. Holding him close like this would have to be enough, however. Turning around, you’re surprised to see the Olo’eyktan in the opening, his big frame resting against the marui pod while he waits.

“Olo’eyktan,” You mutter, clumsily greeting him.

“There is no need for this,” His voice rumbles as he steps inside, only to come to a stop before you. “It takes a strong heart and a mighty spirit to stand up to your father like that, little warrior,”

You watch as Jake Sully gets to his feet, his arms still clutching onto both of his sons as he grunts, refusing to put them down, much the same way you are. Behind the strength he projects, you realize that he’s just as afraid of waking up to find that this had just been a dream. Neteyam and Lo’ak look huge in his arms, dwarfing their father where they’re clutching onto him with their long legs. Still, Jake Sully greets the Olo’eyktan with a nod, as if any of this was normal.

“Tonowari,” Jake Sully offers, his sons quickly mumbling a formal greeting as their father spreads his legs to even out their weight.

“You look tired, my friend. Why don’t you take your family home to rest?” The Olo’eyktan, Tonwari, hums, a gentle smile on his face.

“Can’t do that, I promised I wouldn’t leave Quaritch’s side,” Jake Sully grunts back, the weight of his sons obviously heavy in his tired arms.

“The Tsahìk has informed me that the demon will not wake from his sleep any time soon, and although I admire the loyalty to your promise, I would feel better if you took your family home,” Tonowari continues, his big hands cupping both Neteyam and Lo’ak’s heads as his thumb gently caresses them while he waits for the Toruk Makto to decide, “I will have warriors watching the pod,”

That seems to do it. Jake Sully sighs heavily as he bends his head for a short moment before looking up at Tonowari, his eyes brimming with emotions as his smile stretches unevenly.

“Thank you, my friend,” He breathes with relief as Neytiri comes up behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder to show her support.

“Tsireya and Ronal have left food in your kelku. Do me a favor and don’t let me see you tomorrow,” Tonowari grins as Jake Sully chuckles with tears in his eyes, the Toruk Mako struggling to keep his emotions at bay.

“Thank you,” Neytiri hums as Jake Sully turns to leave.

“Y/n…” He calls to you, but nothing follows.

No words are needed for what your old Olo’eyktan is trying to say. It’s written so clearly in the way his eyes glow while he looks at you, in the way his arms no doubt burn under the weight of his sons. It’s in his voice, in his breath, and in his presence. And even though she won’t say it, even though she doesn’t agree with saving the demon, it's in Neytiri’s smile, as she looks at you, from the entrance.

“I will place warriors to stand guard on the outside, but your Tsahìk tells me that your companion will not wake any time soon,” Tonowari relays the message to you too, even though you had just heard it.

“There is a sleeping draft in the food I have given him,” Mo’at hums as she finishes redressing the demon’s wounds.

The older woman has been suspiciously quiet since arriving in the village, her eyes observing where her mouth does not. You figure that she knows more than she’s letting on, more than she’s ready to relay - or, perhaps, more than you are ready to know. Taking a deep breath, you nod your head in understanding.

“Tomorrow, I will teach you how to dress his wounds,” It’s spoken with such finality that you take a moment to understand what she’s saying.

You hadn’t expected Mo’at to handle the demon for you, but a small part of you had hoped that you could steer clear of the task. Especially after the whole cave incident. Still, you understood that he was your responsibility and that his healing ultimately would be up to you. Getting a better hold on Spider, you turn back to the big leader in front of you.

“There is food in that basket,” He hums, presenting a huge basket by the entrance that you hadn’t noticed before now. “I will come by tomorrow morning to help you settle in, but nesting materials were brought in earlier. This will be your kelku for as long as you stay here, so make yourselves comfortable,”

“Thank you, Olo’eyktan,” You nod your head, grateful that you were taken care of like this.

“Your son has already settled into the village, although new to the sea. He will be safe even without your eyes on him,” Tonowari smiles gently down at you as he reaches a hand out to grab Spider’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I will see you tomorrow,” Mo’at hums as she passes you, effectively leaving you behind.

With your Tsahìk’s exit, Tonowari leaves the marui pod, your new kelku, while the warriors who had been standing guard on the inside followed their Olo’eyktan. The flap to the kelku is closed behind the last warrior and just like that, you were left alone with your son and his father. Breathing a sigh of relief and dread, you look down at your son, finding his beautiful brown eyes already looking up at you. You didn’t know how to settle the unease you felt deep within you, so when Spider unlocked his legs around your waist, started building your nest to keep you occupied.

By the time the nest was finished and your heads hit the soft materials, your worries had numbed your mind enough for you to feel lifeless. Sleep, luckily, greeted you fairly quickly. Your exhaustion from the past few weeks catching up with you. Pulling Spider closer, you fell into a sleep so deep not even the demon could pull you out of it. Tomorrow would bring new sets of worries, new challenges you weren’t ready to tackle yet, but for now, you let your body relax, knowing that your son was safe where he slept in your arms.

Chapter 15 | Masterpost | Chapter 17

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artsyhamster · 11 months

Text

And we've reached the end! I cannot believe we made it but here are the final four. :)

You know the drill by now, explanations and ramblings underneath the cut :D

(1) THE FOOL / THE MAGICIAN / THE HIGH PRIESTESS |

(2) THE EMPRESS / THE EMPEROR / THE HIEROPHANT |

(3) THE LOVERS / THE CHARIOT / STRENGTH |

(4) THE HERMIT / WHEEL OF FORTUNE / JUSTICE |

(5) THE HANGED MAND | DEATH | TEMPERANCE |

(6) THE DEVIL / THE TOWER / THE STAR |

(7) THE MOON / THE SUN / JUDGEMENT / THE WORLD

THE MOON - As I mentioned in the previous set, I had The Star and The Moon exchanged at first. Colorwise I found the Balcony Smoker to be more fitting but descriptionwise.... "[The fool's] bliss (...) makes him vulnerable to the illusions of the Moon" fit Klaasje more. I feel like Harry related to her on a level and of course was drawn to her beauty, and fell for her deception. Or well at least I did lol. Although I don't even want to call it deception, more like...obfuscation in self-defense. Klaasje on the rooftop staring at a moon seemed like a nice visual image too.

THE SUN - I had. So much trouble. Filling this role. Since The sun stands for everything warm and joyous. "It enlightens, so the Fool both feels and understands the goodness of the world." And it's pretty hard to find something joyous in Revachol. I almost chose Ruby just for the orange aesthetics and the sort of... enlightenment. But considering she might shoot herself in the head, I refused to put her in the role of the sun. I wanted to save the Insulidan phasmid for THE WORLD at first, but I am damn happy I let go of that thought. Especially since the story starts and begins with the fool anyway. SO YEAH. I love this stick bug.... I cannot describe it. After you go through this whole bleak game, filled with death, misery, failure and coldness you find this...walking wonder. And the soundtrack to this encapsulates it so well, too. The phasmid scene always fills me with so much happiness T_T

JUDGEMENT - Also one of the the cards that were pretty clear to me from the beginning. Trant looks pretty menacing here but I love it lol. I added a small Harry, because under the judging eyes of his colleagues, everyone would feel small. "The Fool has been reborn. His false, ego-self has been shed, allowing his radiant, true self to manifest." The radiance is debatable, but Harry definitely went through a lot of development in the past few days and hopefully he came out a better person. He isn't absolved of his past mistakes and further judged on those, rather he is judged on the things he did right. And I don't know, what I like about Harry in general is that he is an absolute fuckup but if you give a person the right support and faith in them to be better, they can. If you keep reminding people only of the things they've done wrong, you are taking their room to grow, by defining them as an irredeemable failure.

THE WORLD - "The Fool reenters the World, but this time with a more complete understanding. He has integrated all the disparate parts of himself and achieved wholeness. He has reached a new level of happiness and fulfillment." Well, what can I say. Our fool Harry started this journey full of ignorance but he opened his eyes to the mistakes of the past and learned from them, and is now hopefully ready to tackle life anew. And I love the last sentence of The Fool's story: This cycle is over, but, the Fool will never stop growing. Soon he will be ready to begin a new journey that will lead him to ever greater levels of understanding. While this chapter of his life is over, there'll be new stories to be told. Setbacks and more opportunities to grow, and only time will tell where his journey will lead him this time.

Thanks to everyone who followed me and Harry on this journey and read through my ramblings. Also thanks for all the lovely tags & comments, it was an absolute pleasure reading through these. <3 Much Love!

#disco elysium #klaasje amandou #trant heidelstam #insulidan phasmid #disco elysium fanart #harry dubois #tarot #tarot cards

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wysteria-clad · 2 years

Note

“I haven’t laughed like this in a long time” with the Moon Knight boys might actually end me, I am BEGGING you please!!

The hair problem

paring: moon boys x fem! reader; established relationship

a/n:

my writing style is slightly different in this one.

Marc is a silly idiot in this one, don't take him seriously, he likes to tease you playfully.

Thanks to @imgoingtofreakoutnow for Spanish words and phrases 💗

warnings: cutting your own bangs lol

genre: fluff

------

You shouldn't have done that. You should not have done that. But it was too late now.

Fifteen minutes ago, you have been scrolling pinterest and pictures of girls with cute bangs caught your eyes. Your eyes lit up at the mental picture of you having a full front bangs.

Part of your mind warned you not to do it by yourself. But you ignored it. You opened youtube for watching tutorials. Hey, how hard could that be?

Two tutorials later, here you are. A chunk of your luscious locks on the bathroom sink.

"Shit. Shit" you drop the kitchen scissors. Yes kitchen scissors. Look, you were in a hurry and I'm not gonna judge. We've all been there.

You don't know if you should laugh or cry.

You stare at your reflection on the bathroom mirror.

It was too short than you expected and too blunt. Your thick uneven bangs rests at your eye level, few strands longer than the rest, reaching down the corner of your right eye.

You laugh to yourself, mix of panic and humor sense at your mistake.

"Okay, I can fix this" a lie you tell yourself. A sigh escape your lips. You just need to trim a little bit at the same level. That's it.

A bad idea, really. But you are desperate to fix your bangs. You bring the trimmer near your forehead, accidentally trimming your right eyebrow in the process. Yikes. You didn't realise it until after the deed was done.

"Where is it?" you mumble to yourself with half belief, searching for the electric trimmer Marc keeps, opening and closing the doors of couple shelves.

"Fuck!"

Could this get any worse? You mutter few more profanites. Half of your right eyebrow is gone.

You should have resisted the urge and gone to sleep instead. Any urges and thoughts after 9pm was a bad idea. Now you knew that.

"Y/n, baby, where are y-" Marc stops himself, finding you in the bathroom, his eyes fixed on your bangs. "Oh my God" he pauses, "what happened?" he chuckles as if trying not to laugh fully.

"Can someone smack him for me?" you cross your arms.

"Hey!"

"Oh, love, I'm sorry" Steven strides towards you, cupping your face in his hands. "It's alright, Y/n/n. It's not that bad. We can fix it, yeah?"

"So it looks some level of bad?" you pull away from his loving embrace momentarily to glance at the mirror again.

"That's not-"

"I'm sorry. C'mere" Marc cuts off Steven, opening his arms in hugging gesture.

Okay fine, maybe you could hug him, you think.

His eyes moves from your eyes to your bangs.

"Don't you dare-"

"You look like Dora" he bursts into fit of laughter. His unrestrained laughter fills your ear. "I haven't laughed like this in a long time"

You couldn't help but think how lovely it sounds. When was the last time you heard him laugh like this? You laughed too at the beginning. Maybe, it's not that bad. He wouldn't actually do anything to hurt you intentionally. Besides, it's just hair, it always grows back, you mentally shrug, somewhat consoling yourself. But that doesn't mean, you forgive him that quickly.

"No, you laughed at me" you swat his extended arm playfully with a pout.

"What happened to your eyebrow?!" his expression changes when he finally notice the part of missing eyebrow when he moves the bangs.

"You really want me to ask that?" you sigh exasperatedly.

"I can shave my eyebrow too, if it would make you feel better" Steven fronts, determined to make you feel better. Oh, darling.

"No we are not shaving our eyebrow" Marc protests.

You couldn't help but laugh. Steven ever the sweetheart. But why not play a little with Marc. You can tease back too.

"Actually, I'd like that. We can match!"

"Hell no" Marc Spector would jump off a cliff for you, bring the moon closer to you if you wished. Probably be would shave his head too if you asked. But shaving half of his right eyebrow? Nah, mate. Not happening.

You can see him looking in the mirror and arguing with Steven. "No"

Marc resists hard not to grab the trimmer as Steven wanted to do it. Alright, that's when you decide to interfere and tell them you were just kidding and you were playing with Marc for his teasing earlier.

"You are evil"

"Oh, shush you big baby"

You watch Marc punch himself in the face. "Ow!"

"Doesn't feel great, right?" Steven sasses. "That wasn't me though" he smirks.

"That's for teasing my princesa" you hear Jake's accent and a smile blooms on your face.

"Our girl, Jake. She is our girl" Marc was quick to correct him.

"Not when you make her sad, hombre"

You giggle at their banter.

"Hey" you gently cup Jake's face, making him look at your eyes. "I belong to all of you" you smile. "And I know Marc was just messing around, don't worry about it, okay?" you assure Jake.

He presses a kiss to your head. "Let me fix it" he makes you sit next to the sink. "Eres hermosa, no importa qué, querida", he lifts your chin up with this fingers ever so gently, making you look in his loving eyes. With a kiss to your nose, he makes you giggle and grabs the scissors to cut off the uneven pieces and make the bangs look even. And he did.

Marc apologised again later that night. He wouldn't stop until he heard you laugh.

Now your bangs rests right above your eyebrows and after you styled it with a straightener, it actually looks pretty cute, not gonna lie. Thanks to your man Jake.

#marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #marc spector imagine #steven grant imagine #jake lockley imagine #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #moon knight fluff #moon knight x reader #moon knight imagine #moon knight

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kusagrasskusa · 7 months

Text

An Eye for an Eye, ‘Til the World goes Blind

Chapter 1 - A Man in the Window

Intro, Cha1, Cha2, Cha3, Cha4, (Next chapters since it takes too long to link everything lol)

Let me know if this chapter is too long or boring! I can always make revisions <3

Ao3- AnotherBloodyMaryOnACross, Wattpad- Red_Scarfed_Person

Summary: Y/N learns of the fourth family to have been murdered in the LadyLane Massacres- a series of murders taken place in their town, starting with the Ramirez family in LadyLane. Later she hitched a ride from her older brother Mateo who works as a detective to solve the case. He takes her home before she continued her work on the case, before suddenly noticing a similarity between the girls of each case and herself. It was then she saw something in her window that seemed to morph into its own shape.

“Pinche… Oye, hermanita!” Mateo’s scrunched-up face softened as he saw her, cursing in Spanish before calling for his little sister. Y/N stepped out of the police vehicle as it halted, smiling and waving as she dusted off her skirt.

“I'm finally here, how’s everything?” She asked with a look of concern, quickly running over in her clicking heels. Police cars and ambulances surrounded the house of a supposedly safe neighborhood, where crime seldom happens- but it seems this family of five just wasn’t so lucky.

“We don’t know what happened. But whoever did this obviously was responsible for the last three families that were like this,” Mateo huffed, flicking his cigarette ashes on the road as he looked at the lovely, two-story house, “each person was brutally murdered. There’s nothing we've been able to pick up on in any of these cases, but each time the same weapons are used. Other than that, they’re good at covering their asses like always.” Y/N nodded, pouting her lip. Two happily married parents and three children were the victims of today’s killing. Tragic.

A tall man in a police uniform walked over, clearly out of breath as he spoke, “Nice seeing you, Miss L/N. Y’know, we really shouldn’t be letting you see this until you’re officially a part of the team, but these have been getting too frequent. This is the fourth family to end up like this, and the media and family have been looking at us an awful lot for information. Callin’ it the LadyLane Massacres, and we ain’t got a single damn answer for it all.” Chief Manchester shook her head as other cops and detectives walked around the premises. Wrinkles on his forehead, dark spots under his eyes- these recent killings have caused this stress on many of the faces here. “But, eh, you’re pretty good at finding things. And we need all the help we can get,” the Chief continued.

“I understand, sir, and I’ll do all I can,” Y/N replied, nodding her head with a look of determination. Moments later, her mouth held open in shock as she looked at the gruesome scene in front of her: the bodies, the blood pools, the blood splattered across almost every surface. The horrified faces plastered on the victim’s bodies, solidifying the pain they faced in their last living moments as they fought for their lives.

“Fucking horrible, innit,” Chief spoke as he put his hands in his front pockets. The daughter was dead in the kitchen, intestines ripped out. A mother died on the stairs, her back ripped open with window shards in her back. The large window above the stairs was busted open- likely how the killers got in, and they got her quickly. Upstairs, the father had his arm behind his back, popped out of socket. He had 3 bullet wounds in the head, and two in the leg. Another daughter had a giant hole in her chest, dead in her room as if an ax of sorts hit her- and finally, the son was dead outside. The broken window of his bedroom indicated he tried to jump out to escape and had that ax plunged into his head before he could reach safety.”

“Okay, well…” Y/N cleared her throat after looking at all the bodies, a sweat building up on her face. “We can deduce that the mother died first. Someone had an ax, or a hatchet, and attacked the girl and the son while someone else went after the dad with a gun. Someone else must have gotten the daughter, and possibly another then went straight for the mother.”

“That’s what we’re thinking,” he explained. “We’ll be extracting the bullet from the father to see if it’s the same used in the other killings. But we know each time, an ax or hatchet had been used along with a knife are the three weapons.”

“I wonder what their intention was,” Y/N mumbled, holding her chin in thought as she turned to look at the dead daughter in the kitchen. “They just busted through the window unexpectedly and killed them. What for?”

“Well, we have a few suspects,” the Chief replied, “but nothing’s for sure. It’s gonna be hard to find someone connected to everyone at once. They must have known where to look before they entered and who their victims were.”

“For sure,” Y/N replied. “To murder entire families, children... It’s gotta be more than just random sprees. This family was connected to either the killers themselves, or with something they wanted to protect…” She trailed off, furrowing her eyebrows as a random white piece of something caught her eye, just barely out of sight. Something was under the table, a foot away from the daughter’s bloody hand. It had a slight glare that caught her eye from her angle.

Y/N crouched down, grabbing the thing carefully on its corners. A little flat, white piece of plastic, slightly curved, and with a little smudge of blood. This must have cracked off of something, given the rounded corners until the ridged side.

“What is it?” the Chief asked, raising a brow and shining his flashlight.

“Let’s get this DNA tested. It’s oddly placed and look, there is a bloody spot,” she spoke with a look of focus, handing it out to a lady who held a bag for evidence.

Y/N always had a talent for justice. Mateo always said it started after they found her in the woods one winter night when she went missing and the police found her deep in the woods. Although they never figured out how she got there, and she never could remember anything she saw, she does remember the police. The ride to the station was full of questions for the officers about their jobs from the two siblings.

Mateo was going to be a detective anyway, and well, it made it easier for Y/N to follow in his footsteps.

“Horrible, isn’t it,” Mateo stated, sighing as he drove away from the scene. Y/N nodded her head, looking out the window and the snowflakes falling from the sky.

“I just wish they’d let me see the full system. I feel stupid when they call me out there and not give me all the information; like how am I going to help ya’ll if you don’t give me anything but an eyesight?” she sighed, resting her head against the cold window. Her E/C eyes shunned as they passed the lit street lamps that brightened the snow patches on the ground. The snow always was a familiar, warm feeling for her.

“Well, it’s sensitive information,” Mateo chuckled. “We don’t want some good-for-nothing delinquent looking at our data.”

“Really, shoplifter?” Y/N giggled, sticking her tongue out. “Don’t think I’ll let you forget about that one time. Dad was not happy, haha.” The two laughed in the car, embarrassment flushing the face of her brother.

“Let’s not bring that up around the other officers, okay?” he chuckled. A moment of peace was shared between them before the low atmosphere of the crime made its quiet return. As they turned into Y/N’s street, Mateo broke the silence. “But… hey, honestly. I’m really thankful to have you here in a few years, joining the force. Dad would be proud of us, y’know, for following in his footsteps.”

“Oh, he really would be, hah hah,” Y/N chuckled softly, looking over at her brother. He looked a lot like his mother- brown skin, dark eyes, dark hair. But he was as tall, strong, and broad as their father. It always was a curious thing for her to notice considering she didn’t know her mother enough to know what resemblance she had. But, what mattered most to her and that she still had the relationship of true siblings despite having different moms.

“Say… I think we’re all very passionate about this case. Y’know, the LadyLane Massacres…” Mateo trailed off as if he wasn’t sure about what he wanted to say next. “And… as long as you keep it a secret between us, I can temporarily lend you my computer to look at police data whenever you need it. I think your help will be vital.”

“Seriously?” Y/N smiled brightly. “Mateo, that means a lot to me, thank you! And don’t worry, the secret will be safe with me, heh heh,” she boosted. “Well, as long as you don’t take all the credit from me.”

“Heh heh, well, with that being said…” he replied, slowly bringing the car to a stop, “get the hell outta my car, woman.”

With the last joke of the night, they hugged before Y/N went back up into her apartment. It was cozy, sorta minimalist due to the lack of money to go all out, but it was home. And the homiest part of her home was the guest bedroom/office, to where she walked straight towards the moment she took off her jacket and shoes. Two hours of investigating at the actual crime scene, and now countless hours investigating the entirety of the LadyLane Massacres as a whole in this little office.

She sat down at the computer desk, humming to herself as she logged into her double monitors. “Sorry hermano,” she said cheerily as she sipped her cup of tea. “I’ve had your info for a very long time already. ‘preciate the help, though.”

A few minutes passed, and finally, she had full access to what her detective brother had on the police databases. Any person jailed or imprisoned could be viewed from her screen, as well as any digital case files assigned to him. For example, the four recent family murders- just what Y/N wanted to see. Pictures of the bodies and faces were uploaded to the databases, as well as details of the crimes and pictures of evidence.

Each murder was done in a similar fashion- giant open gashes on some, indicating the use of a blunt object like an ax or a hatchet. Other bodies had gunshot wounds and/or knife wounds, sometimes with brute force as well. It’s hard to imagine only one person having the capability to use all three weapons to effortlessly kill an entire family in different rooms each time- therefore leading to the speculation there was a minimum of 2 killers. But most, including yours truly, believe there are three or four.

“Interesting…” she mumbled, her eyes reflecting the bright images. The images of bloodied bodies flashed across the screen as she scrolled through last week’s case. A girl about her age popped up with her head nearly decapitated from her neck save for a few more inches of flesh connecting them. Blood soaked her shirt down to the pools of blood that developed around her corpse, her face blue. A girl who looked… very similar to Y/N.

A chill ran down her spine as she made the connection. The H/L, H/C hair, and the dead, whitened E/C eyes of the girl- let alone the face shape. Y/N clicked on another folder of another family related to the LadyLane Massacres. Scrolling through, it was a family of four; the Burninghams. Each of them was shot in the living room, a clean killing save for the daughter.

She died against the wall while the others died on the couch, shot dead. Her hair was seen ripped out and on the floor, showing she was likely pulled away towards the wall. She was shot in the legs, had each finger cut off, but worst of all, an ax or hatchet wound split open her forehead right down the middle. She looked a lot like the last girl.

Y/N squinted her eyes as an uncomfortable feeling washed over her. Another case- the Ramirez family of 4, with a daughter looking the same. That’s when something else in her head clicked: the sons each look similar to Mateo. Not as much resemblance, but there were commonalities with each victim.

“Who are they looking for…?” she mumbled to herself as she flashed the images of each case again. The daughter would be thrown around and murdered the most brutally. And each time the daughter and son looked similar to Mateo and her.

She shuddered, wrapping her arms around her torso and leaning back in her chair. “Gosh, that’s scaring me haha,” she softly joked to herself, “it almost makes me feel like they’re looking for…” Her voice trailed off as she squinted out her dark window, seeing her reflection faintly. She watched stiffly as it almost looked like her reflection was moving, or morphed…

——

Coming up in Chapter 2:

Slowly, she pushed herself off her seat and stepped closer to the window. Her heart began to beat heavily as she ambled forward and lifted her hands to touch the window as she got closer. A whiteness suddenly became more visible around her reflection’s face that slowly began to take a form of its own as she got closer. Followed by dark spots, an outline of a large body, and…

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givemea-dam-break · 1 year

Note

Hey! Can you write some george karim x reader fluff?

Literally write anything, I’ve read everything that’s on here lol.

a/n: of course! i haven’t written for george yet and, although i love lockwood so so much, there’s a special place in my heart for nerdy boys lol

warnings: none gn reader

"I got you a book."

George looks up from his notebook, splayed out on the kitchen table curiously. "You did?"

You nod, placing the thick hardback down on the thinking cloth. "I was out and popped into a bookshop. I know you've been wanting this one for a little while."

His eyes carefully scan the book, and he takes it in his hands, flipping it over and reading the covers. For a minute, you think he's disappointed. Maybe he already bought it, or maybe you misheard him and got the wrong one...

Then, a smile appears, his eyes sparkling as he looks back at you. "Thank you. You didn't have to get me it."

"I wanted to," you say with a shrug. "You mentioned it a few days ago, and I just wanted to do a nice thing."

Also, I've hidden little notes in it, you think, but you don't say it out loud. That's part of the surprise.

"What are you doing just now?" you ask, moving to make yourself a brew. "Looks... confusing."

"Research for that new case we've got booked," he says, turning back to his notes. "You know, the old lady from the other day who said her grandkid heard voices in the attic?"

"Oh!" You take a bite out of a biscuit you just plucked off the plate. "Mrs Thurmon, right? I'm still convinced it's some birds stuck inside, but could well be a ghost. Lockwood thinks it's a Type One."

George shakes his head. "I think it's more than that. Maybe..."

He looks back at his notes, and he doesn't speak again. If anyone else did the same, you'd consider it rude, but George gets like this sometimes. In his mind, he probably thinks that he's still speaking to you when in reality he's gone quiet. It makes you smile, and you can't help but watch the way his eyebrows crease in concentration and he silently mouths the words he's written haphazardly.

You feel content just looking at him, as strange as it sounds. The way his dark hair falls over his face, or the way his fingers run underneath the words he's paying particular attention to. Sometimes when he's writing things in his notebook, he won't realise he's reached the edge of the page and will continue onto the thinking cloth, leading to some very obscure phrases seen at midnight after a case.

"So, you see, I don't think it's just a Type One. There's something -" He looks up and sees the smile you're trying to suppress. "I wasn't talking, was I?"

Laughing, you shake your head. "No, you weren't."

He looks down, flushing red slightly.

"I'm going to head down to the basement," you say, lifting your mug of tea from the counter. "I'll get the chains oiled and prepare our bags for tonight. Give me a shout if you need anything, yeah?"

Over the next few days, George begins a daily routine of spouting out random facts at the kitchen table over breakfast. Some are relatively normal, like the fact that crocodiles can't stick their tongue out, but they become stranger and stranger as the days pass. Each time, he reads them off a little ripped piece of paper, each in your handwriting.

Lockwood and Lucy seem thoroughly amused, but you only grow more and more apprehensive. As the little facts come to their end, your heart begins to race in anticipation.

You don't regret giving George the book. You do, however, regret leaving a note expressing your feelings for George at the end a little bit.

It's hell waiting for him to get to it. It gives you too much time to worry. Will he reject you? Will he admit he feels the same? George has never been very openly expressive about his feelings outwith his interests, hence why you've admitted the fact that you're, oh, well, in love with him in a note rather than to his face.

But, then, finally, the reply comes in the form of an envelope slipped under your door while you're sleeping. You awake to find it the next morning, the brown envelope trembling in your hands.

It's stupid, honestly, getting so nervous over a guy. A year ago, you would never have believed that you'd be here, sweating profusely as you sit on your bed, trying to muster up the confidence to open the envelope.

Finally, you do.

"(name),

Thank you for the book. I didn't know that you had heard it was one I wanted, but I appreciate you getting it for me. You didn't need to, but it means a lot. It was quite good, actually. Possibly one of my favourites.

As for the little notes - funny! I didn't know chef's hats had 100 pleats, but I'll be sure to stash the fact for future reference. Maybe I'll confuse Kipps with it one day, just to throw him off.

As for the last note."

Your heart feels like it's going to implode. Taking a deep breath, you continue reading.

"I don't like talking about my feelings much, which is why I'm assuming you wrote yours down (I also appreciate that), but I'll try my best.

I've liked you since the day you walked through the front door for your interview. Your haircut was weird, and you looked a bit like a lost puppy, but you were patient with me, even when I was being a prick. You make the best tea out of the four of us, but, please, never cook dinner again. You can't do that to save your life."

You laugh, hands still trembling. Your cheeks feel hot.

"I like the way you laugh, and the fact that you stay and 'listen' to me when I think I'm still talking instead of just leaving. You pay attention to little details, and you remember things about me that I've never thought were really that important.

You're the first person who hasn't made me feel like a weirdo, really. Around you, I'm myself. You let me talk for hours about stuff you probably don't care about. You get this look on your face when I'm talking too fast like you're struggling to keep up, but you're trying your best. And, when you make us tea, you're always smiling, like it's the greatest thing you could do in this world.

I'm sorry none of this is being said in person, but the fact you've given me the opportunity to do it like this tells me everything I need to know. No one has ever cared for me the way you do.

To simplify, I like you a lot, too. And, yes, maybe we could go to the bookshop together if you aren't too busy trying to pretend like you're not looking at me (yes, I'm very aware of that).

-George :)"

The grin that splits your face is the biggest it's ever been. You're most definitely blushing, and, if Lucy wasn't sleeping on the other side of the room, you'd be jumping around, squealing like a madman with excitement.

You place the letter under your pillow, fighting to soften your smile, as you hurry down the stairs to the attic door to put some tea on.

Upon opening the door, you're met with a face that's all too familiar. Hair curling softly and glasses perched on his nose, George stands in the doorway, fist raised as if he were about to knock.

"George!" you say before remembering that Lucy is sleeping. You hush your tone a little. "Hey, how are you? Sleep well?"

A small smile plays on his lips, a little awkward but it still makes your heart soar. "I, uh, I slept fine. I'm good. I was just coming to ask if you wanted breakfast."

"I was actually about to come down and put some tea on."

"Oh, good." He takes his glasses off, rubbing the lenses on his jumper. "Shall we -?"

"Yes! Um, yeah."

You pass him, closing the door softly, and you break out into a grin again. He feels the same. He feels the same!

"I was going to go to the bookshop today," he says. "Maybe you'd like to come with...?"

It's hard to contain your excitement, but you nod, glancing back at him. "I'd like that."

"You would?"

"I would."

#george karim x reader #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co fanfiction #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #george karim #george cubbins #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #fanfiction #x reader #givemea-dam-break

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thevenuscross · 3 months

Text

composure; prologue

masterlist | next chapter

warnings: lowkey the brother is annoying in some parts, thats all tbh

word count: 2.1k

authors note: the prologue was supposed to be shorter lol, d1 yapper over here y’all.

prologue

The sounds of chatter from your eldest brother and the sounds of clatter from shoes on royal tile warped in and out of your ears. It was like you were drowning, only hearing one syllable to waves crashing you deeper and deeper. There was nothing more frustrating than when your brother began his anxious rambles, where there’s no end to it because his arrogant mind cannot be aware of others' sensitivity to the matter. He wasn’t aware of how you were trying so hard not to spin around and lash out on him; to finally scold him for good after all these years. Let him know how his rambles never helped.

You took a deep breath. In and out. Clasping your hands together in front of you, you started to count numbers in your head.

It was just…you wished he could shush his overwhelming thoughts that trembled your body in fits during these kinds of situations. But never would you let your unwanted thoughts leave your lips. You will continue to conceal them in the back of your mind like you always have and always will. If there was anyone who would conceal their own worries from the ever-growing rumors of war, it was you. You who kept your head high.

Besides, his maid was providing him with reasonable explanations for his rambles. Something you were extremely grateful for.

“If this is such an emergency for them, why must they let us run across the castle grounds to reach the common? They are lucky we were not busy.”

“Sir, if I may, no one expected for them to call upon you in such haste,” His maid said in exasperation as he tried to keep up with everyone’s pace, “We were only notified of this minutes ago.”

“Maybe you should’ve warned us quicker but no, the minute you reached the botanicals, you and my sister’s maid, both decided to dally in a story of the rumors of war instead of outright saying it was urgent.”

Your brother’s maid tried to usher an explanation, probably a reason why he and your maid started with the rumors, but, typical of your brother, he scoffed, shaking his head. “By now we've already known a war is on breach. You did not need to give us a backstory on such.”

“Yes, your Highness, but you must know—“

Tempted to roll your eyes and scoff too, you squeezed your hands. You had enough of this one-sided conversation. With the commons room only ten more steps in front, you relished in pretending to let the waves tumble in your head. The voices behind you faltered and the muffled silence filled you with tranquility. Not uttering a single word, you swiftly opened the oak doors where it was lined with gold. Returning your hands back in front of you, you bowed forward to your parents where they stood, facing each other, their own conversation falling short.

“Mother, father.” You addressed, grateful they still bowed their heads to you.

It didn’t take long for your brother to spill his thoughts onto them. “Will our army be sent to the cliffside on Jackson? Or is the war finally commencing?”

Always in your life had you let your brother do the questioning, the disobeying, the defiance. . Even if your own longed to unravel that side of you. Deep down, you know questioning your parents will not be considered lightly. They had already set the future paths for you and your brother where he will be the one crowned in ruling this kingdom. And you…you couldn’t exactly realize where your life was heading. In all of your twenty-eight years of living, you only knew manners and skills they believed fit right in case they wanted you to be a future queen.

Though your parents weren’t known to be direct with you.

“There is no war in this kingdom. Or will a war happen in the many centuries to come. The conflict between us and the neighboring kingdom will be solved within months. You of all people should not be conflicted with the lies of the rumor.”

Your brother squinted his eyes in disbelief, “Then why are our maids sharing tales of rumors of the supposed war? Do you believe so little in us to come to your call because we are older? Cross I will be if it is just simple news.”

Waves were crashing upon you again. You hid the shakes of your hands by squeezing them tight together. It was an upside to staying silent for most of your life as it made you invisible to most eyes wherever you were. Your sight scattered across the room to catch something that will hold your attention for a couple of minutes and that’s when you saw them. The both of them like statues, patiently waiting for your parents to address them.

Two knights in the room and you were the only one looking at them now.

They wore high quality silver armor, their entire body hidden by the weight of it. Their shoulders aligned perfectly with the other as their chest was buffed. A steel sword rested on their leather scabbards, a shield with the kingdom’s design being held by their left hand. Their helms of silver covered every part of their face, the only thing you can see if they were closer was their visor. You were glad you couldn’t exactly see if they caught you observing them and if they knew, they did nothing of the sort to let you know.

“Listen to your father.” Your mother’s strict tone broke your observance. Her pointed glare quieted your brother, allowing him to stand beside you and listen. “There is no war and there will be no war on these lands. Do you understand?”

You peeked at your brother. He was biting the inside of his cheeks. At first, he opened his mouth but let those unanswered questions down his throat. His fingers anxiously started to tap against his thigh in a scattered pattern. When tense silence gathered in the room, your father exhaled deeply and moved away from your mother’s side and closer to where the knights were. Your brother’s eyes widened slightly but he stayed quiet.

Once your father reached the knights, his eyes met yours then your brother’s. “We’ve noticed the crime has increased due to the…lies spread across the kingdom. As people grow relentless with royalty, me and your mother decided it was best for both of you to have personal guards.”

You didn’t notice your brother glancing over at you.

“These knights are one of the best under the royal regiment. With great skill in sword, they will grant you protection. Your guard must follow you everywhere, even if you think you might not need it.”

You wanted to scrunch your face in, a flicker of annoyance rumbling inside of you. Flocks of questions crept into your throat, your lips being the gate to keep them locked. This is what you were trained to do since birth. Keep quiet in your defiances, keep your composure in your impulsiveness. Biting the edge of your tongue and gulping your questions down and allowing your brother to remark.

It’s too late now to change.

Though for a couple of minutes, your brother did not speak. His eyes were glued to the guards. His tapping increased in pace before he shut his eyes and clasped onto his hands to stop the taps.

“If you want another body to follow us like some street dog then so be it but I know why the two of you did this.”

“Brother,” you grumbled out as he shrugged his shoulders.

“Forgive me or not but you know I am right.”

You and your brother caught each other’s glance and you saw a swarm of pleas. You couldn’t hear how he whispered a please to you. Or how defeated he was when you turned back to face your parents.

“Mother, father, forgive me, but if a war will not happen in our kingdom then why the personal knights. And if the crime is increasing because of the crippling fear of war-“

“There is no war!” Your father bellowed, face contorted. His shout rocked your brother into a whimpering boy, cowering and head low, eyes shut. Slowly, his tapping was back on the side of his thigh. “What will it take to get through your stubbornness?!” The roughness in his voice, the added texture of anger, it all made the room fall to a deathly tremble.

Your brother started in a hushed croak “Father,”

“Enough.”

Your brother bit his words so your parents could carry on. With frustration quipped, their introductions of the two knights were kept short to both.

The guard to the left, slightly taller from the one on the right, was your brother’s. Trained under the royal regiment for ten years where he earned the ranking of Grand Cross, the highest of all rankings. It was an honor to be a personal knight for a royal, but to you, it seemed like a detriment. Always on the watch, always on patrol.

Seemed treacherous.

His guard bowed with his shield and fist over his heart. Your brother eyed him but soon bowed his head as well.

You prayed for his guard.

But you couldn’t pray for yourself.

It was easy for you to stay hidden and stay polite with others because you barely were around people. Either in your room honing the skills set or visiting the town square or the botanicals alone, only calling your maid when you needed her. Your life was centered on keeping your composure.

Now he, your new personal guard, must follow you around, must watch over you, must not let anything get to you. You couldn’t help but want to push and deny any access to anyone watching you.

Though one must not allow such impulsions.

Angsty to be face to face in front of him, you gripped your hands. You couldn’t remember when he was in front of you or when his introduction was over for him. Or when you remembered when your body had a mind of its own and that it remembered how to properly greet someone. He only bowed with his head, shield to his heart.

He stared at you with eyes like a hawk. Through his visor, you saw the darkness in his eyes, the color hidden. If he’s like this, you may need to visit the town square less and less, more hidden in your room.

To your surprise, he hasn’t uttered the words of a knight, where one was grateful to serve for you, protect you. He just stood and soon enough, you wanted to stay in your bedroom for months on end. It was okay if he was only here for a pay raise.

It would ease the notion that he wasn’t into this job.

You formed a tight smile, “Thank you, Sir.”

One must never lose their composure. No matter the situation they are brought upon. That is how one should rule for their people, even if that one will never be the ruler.

It nerved you how he kept five paces behind you like he was supposed to. Or how he hasn't spoken a single word to you even though it was only you two in the halls. He wasn’t like your maid who tried to start a conversation with you, either if it was personal or something simple. She couldn’t bear an awkward silence like he did.

Upon reaching your bedroom, ready to twist the knob and enter, you hesitated. Secretly, you glimpsed at him from the side. You noticed how his shoulders were too tight and how he would slightly shift from one side to the other. Though, you weren’t worried about his awkward stance—you were more worried about how far these protocols went.

Standing there for a minute and racking your brain to ask him a question, your thoughts froze when his eyesight shifted to look at you directly.

“Are you gonna ask me something?” He uttered, muffled. A peep of irk in his tone. You spotted a slight accent but couldn’t decipher where it would be.

You battled with yourself on not asking him if his mother ever taught him respect or if he ever went through knight training.

You stood straighter than before and gripped the knob of your door tighter.

“Where would you be posted if I entered my room?”

He didn’t move. “Outside.” He stated it so obvious, you couldn’t help but to bite your tongue in hope you can swallow your words instead of chewing him out.

“Okay.”

The both of you gazed at one another for a couple seconds before you turned your knob and opened your door. Bowing to him so you wouldn’t show your hindrance, you then turned away.

“Good day, Sir.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

taglist: @mermaidgirl30

(if u wanna be added, just tell me!)

#joel miller masterlist #joel the last of us #joel x reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #knight joel miller #idk how to write medieval people #tlou masterlist #joel tlou #this brother is such a character #joel miller x you

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kanmom51 · 10 months

Text

Jungkook interview in Weverse Magazine

20 July 2023

My suggestion is go and read this.

I won't be talking about everything JK says. Just a couple of little honorary mentions from me.

Before I start, I do have to say that this man is absolutely gorgeous.

It's going to be a very sad day for the y/n fans when they finally realize that JK and JM are off the market and with no other than each other.

This here.

The pressure on his shoulders, trying to reach one of his end goals.

"...and then I can be more open about the real me."

You might think I'm being over melodramatic here, but I can't help it. I'm sitting here reading and re-reading that sentence and tears are just running down my face.

JK has always talked about hiding his true self behind a mask. He's been wanting to show us more of himself, his real self, his true self, trying to do that over the years.

That's why TTU hits so hard at times, especially their last Seoul performances of the song.

That's also why my heart broke when he told us in the Japanese interview for Film out, that he has come to realize that he will always need to wear that mask, that he might never be able to show his real self.

And now, again, he's trying to take steps to be able to show us who he really is.

We have said for ages now that JK wants out of the closet. It's that but it's also more than just his queerness. His queerness is part of who he is as a person, part of his identity, but that is not the only part of himself he is hiding from us, and his need to be out of the closet coincides with his need to stop masking himself (an interesting term that I am not using in vain here).

Next point I wanted to bring attention to:

That there folks. I literally just mentioned this in my last post. JK is the artist, he does the art. He has others, professionals in their own fields, that do the business side of things, which includes the promotions.

"I'm a dancer and a singer - I don't know about every single aspect of the business". And he is not only talking about the styling or the concepts here.

It's about what your goals are as an artist. What each and every one of the members goals are, and JK, his goal is this:

He wants out of Korea, I've said this once, I've said it a thousand times.

This photo here I found interesting:

Is this JK grainy, unclear, waiting to clear up, for us to see him clearly, his real self? Or is that just me bullshitting? Lol.

Other than that, did you notice the black and white theme going on?

JK acknowledging the change that we all saw in him since his Feb 23 lives.

Kind of also confirms what we've been talking about. JK is a smart young man and he knows what he's doing. The spoilers, the choices of words of songs during the lives, the JM promoting, not by chance and not done without thought.

And here we go again.

Weren't we talking about that JM.

Clear. Upfront. Bold. Emphasized.

Go read the full interview!

#Jungkook #JK #JK Seven #JK Weverse

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aihoshiino · 5 months

Note

do you think b komachi (specifically the 4 founding members) were ever friends at one point? i think 45510 implied it with how ai refers to them being friends before and nino saying that ai didn’t ‘cling to her friends’

personally, ive assumed that they were never close due to that rift between her and the rest of them therefore leading ai to want to make friends with them but knowing that they mightve been close in the past (even if it was brief) before distancing themselves away and growing to resent and envy her is just

Idk it hurts

I THINK ABOUT THIS SO MUCH AUUUUUU...

The Spica novel implies they never really connected at all and that there was some pretty nasty bullying of Ai basically immediately but uh, the Spica novel also has a lot of weird contradictions with the main series so I kind of just have been taking everything from it with a grain of salt... it'd be one thing if it was actually written by Akasaka and he was retconning but I genuinely think this Tanaka guy just did not know anything about oshi no ko when he wrote it lMDKMSLSKS

SO COMPLETELY IGNORING SPICA IN THAT REGARD...!

It's hard to pin things down exactly because we've never gotten a proper snapshot of that part of Ai's life. The closest we come to having anyone from that time period talk about it is in 45510 and Nino is sooooo biased that it's hard to know how seriously we can take her words.

I tend to believe that Nino is mostly telling the truth about how things went there from a purely narratively utilitarian standpoint of "this is our only source for this particular information so she cannot be a wholly unreliable narrator", even if her obvious emotional bias means you can't just uncritically accept what she says. Kyun kind of accidentally corroborates this in Viewpoint B where she describes Ai as being a little distant and seeming to have her walls up, which matches Nino describing her as 'aloof'.

I don't think this was something Ai was doing intentionally, though! This isn't something anyone in B-Komachi would've had context for but immediately worth noting is that, given that we know Ai can't be any older than 11 or 12 when she debuts in B-Komachi, this is two years at the very most out from her being separated from her mother. As Ayumi herself admits, her abuse of Ai escalated and peaked when Ai was eight or nine years old and Ai was put into the children's home and abandoned by her not long after. Given how fresh the wounds of abuse and abandonment would've been, it's really not a shock to me that Ai might have been kind of wary and defensive in a way that would've read as aloofness to kids who don't know what's up with her.

And also, like... Ai is autistic lol! She literally has a type of neurodivergence that affects her ability to socialize on top of her being implied to have been pretty poorly socialized up to that point as well. Chances are good that during this important period of making first impressions in B-Komachi that she probably wasn't great at masking, so that combined with her already having her guard up a bit likely would have made her seem really standoffish.

With all that laid out, I think my read of what initially happened with the founding members and Ai is that they were all reaching out to each other but ended up missing the final step they would've needed to really connect. The other founding members eventually gave up but Ai never stopped trying to reach them even long past the point where even she admits that they probably hate her. She never gave up on the idea that they could be friends.

It's definitely sad! I think the way the founding members fell apart is a really good depiction of like... an emotionally messy situation where it's hard for me to really blame anyone. In the aftermath of ch132, I've seen a lot of people really ragging on Nino and blaming her entirely for Ai's isolation within B-Komachi but like... isn't Ichigo also to blame for letting things get that bad? Isn't it the manager's job to make sure toxicity like that doesn't fester? Hell, a big part of why the girls in B-Komachi resented Ai is BECAUSE of Ichigo - because the group's management spotlighted and promoted her to the extent that all the other girls felt like they were just there to be Ai's backup dancers.

Thank God that could never happen with the present day generation of B-Komachi, right? Ha... hahahahhaa...............

#sorry to ppl who enjoyed spica who keep seeing me trash it i just genuinely think it was a bad novel nKDJDKSMS #the prose is so fucking hamfisted and emotionally manipulative and the sexualization of sarina's crush on goro...... nooooo thank u!!!#oshi no ko #oshi no posting #ai hoshino #b komachi #onk spoilers

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bcbdrums · 28 days

Note

Hi, I know we have quite different oppinions on some SE related things, but thats why I wanted to ask:

I actually really liked the manga Baba Yaga arc. Is your oppinion on it positve too or do you actually think its not as good or atleast weaker than the folowing arcs?

I'm curious on people's oppinions and finding out where the difference of perspectives originate

(Also think the Baba Yaga arc had a very strong SoMa moment with the whole puppet chapter resolution and Maka giving Soul and outstretched hand is an iconic panel to me)

I don't think the manga had a single "weak" arc. The more I pick things apart, the more I'm seeing what masterful storycrafting took place in Soul Eater, which is surely part of why it has such a strong fanbase to this day.

The Baba Yaga arc was fantastic!!! I have not read the manga since January, but I'll try to bullet point some of the key things that make it great.

And I'll preface this all by saying... The manga is divided into two halves, essentially (we know that), and at the end of each half...our main characters reach milestones in their stories and their character development. So it's like...they've all been hopping across stepping stones to reach the other side of the pond, and here they all arrive. And get ready to brave the waves of the next half of the story.

Also, I'm writing this in a way that assumes the reader has read and is intimately familiar with the manga. So I'm not going into detail about things. But anyway...

MAJOR spoilers for Soul Eater manga, if that matters to anyone.

The secondary trio. We get to see ALL of the kids in this arc, and time is spent with each of them; it's not JUST the main meister trio and their weapons, but it's also the secondary trio, and we finally get to know them more deeply as characters! And good heavens is that development ever GOOD! I won't detail it so folks can read it for themselves, but my GOSH was that ever phenomenal!

Minor characters. Eruka, Free, even Giriko, and Mosquito get their moments. And they're not just there to be on the page, they serve an actual purpose. And I felt that Mosquito here became more a genuine threat, less an annoying pest (lol, mosquito). We also get the unexpected introduction of a new enemy in Noah, which was a fabulous twist.

The first major seeds of doubt are sown here with the DWMA's decision making; perhaps they are not the great and wise leaders we've been led to believe? Because going along with Medusa's plan was clearly, clearly unwise. We have this sense the whole time that the effort is doomed simply by nature of...we know the decision was unwise. And with the little hints prior, and with what ultimately comes later regarding the DWMA and their place in the world...it was a fantastic stepping stone along that piece of the plot.

Medusa. The tension of her presence, of her supposedly being their ally. The clear and obvious lie she tells to Maka to gain her cooperation. Her true motives slowly but surely unfolding, and what ultimately happens with her in the end of the arc. It was a brilliant, brilliant play, completely inline with the manipulative character we know and love/hate, and an added level of threat throughout the arc since the point is to stop Arachne. And then to have the true plan revealed in the end... Sheer brilliance.

Black Star and Tsubaki vs Mifune. Another perfect stepping stone in the plot of Black Star's character development, from who he was at the beginning to who he ends up being in the very final chapter of the manga. Tense, powerful, bittersweet... Black Star is arriving here at who he needs to be to truly complete his goal. We see the growth in his words, his actions, and it becomes so important going forward.

Maka and Soul, and the battle against Arachne. Here we get back to the purpose... How was Soul Eater the series introduced? You defeat 99 evil souls and then the soul of a witch. So, we have arrived at last. A battle against a witch. And the themes of trust that were set up in that very first chapter get to shine here with Maka and Soul's growth as a meister/weapon pair. And oh ho HO that payoff... With yet another twist following... Fantastic storytelling!

Kid's sacrifice. Unexpected, heart-pounding, and yet again... A culmination of his growth. Throughout the arc... In his wise decision-making, his battle tactics, and then ultimately his sacrifice... He is stepping out of the...youthful and surface-level obsessiveness that is ultimately part of what is going to make him a great Shinigami someday, and stepping into the beginnings of maturing into that role. No more worrying about the height of picture frames. Only protecting the world, and protecting the ones he loves. It is a powerful, powerful moment in his development.

As I said in the beginning... This is an arrival, for each character. An arrival, and then they get to take a breath before the ultimate battle. Everything about this arc was phenomenal. Each and every character given their due; the pacing; the story itself with all of its frights, twists, and payoffs, and the way it makes the reader think. Truly, truly outstanding!

I know this was a very vague summary and assumes intimate knowledge of the manga, but my gosh... Truly a fabulous arc and I want to go read it again right now.

#soul eater #soul eater manga #maka albarn #black star #death the kid #ox ford #kim diehl #medusa gorgon #tsubaki nakatsukasa #thompson sisters

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dangerously-human · 3 months

Note

for the fic writer game: 3, 4 for take his hand, 8, 20 for merry metamorphosis (am I trying to make you write pregnancy fic... maybe), 27 for ch2 of here's a safe place, 37, 49

3. What are some tropes or details that you think are very characteristic of your fics?

I write a lot of family life for traumatized characters, stuff that requires a lot of intentional growth but also leaves space for tenderness. Love me some literal sleeping together, too. I mostly write post-canon, and a lot of introspection. And I think I'm always working off of an assumption of redeeming the narrative, in a sense - not that things will always go well, but they will always have meaning. It's the Christian worldview, I suppose.

4. What detail in [Take His Hand] are you really proud of?

Honestlyyyy, I could wax rhapsodic talking about this fic and how it came to be. Lucy's chapter may be killing me a little bit, but there were parts of Lockwood's that truly feel like they came from outside of me (we've talked before about the Holy Spirit influence on this one). I know I already mentioned this in my reply to your comment, but the fact that Lockwood was praying with his old rosary beads from when he was a kid when the call from Penelope Fittes comes in says a lot. It's a nod to (part of) what Lockwood chose to pray about, after all those years of distance - the right opportunity to invite Lucy to come home - and it also ties the success of the company to a lasting legacy for the Lockwood family, which is such a key aspect of understanding Lockwood himself and just what he's trying to include Lucy in. It also says that he unpacked the literal box of memories, however painful, even if he's not 100% ready to unpack the metaphorical one - except he has started to, he's praying and acknowledging the God he feels let him down (or maybe the other way around, depending on the day), and he's doing this thing that reminds him so strongly of Jessica and their shared grief. It's not "solved," Lockwood still has a long way to go and a lot of Jacob-like wrestling with the Lord to do, but at least he's stopped running in the opposite direction and actually let himself feel something - which is what the Black Winter is all about, in his arc. I could go on about this for ages, truly.

8. What song would make a great fic (to either write or read)?

Captives Come Home by Run Kid Run is just BEGGING for Other Side fic, - please, the number of times the lyrics repeat stuff about creeping shadows and the other side! - and maybe I'll write it eventually but I'd be equally happy to read it if someone else did. Would love to see it start with Lockwood and Lucy's first crossing ("There's hope inside that box you close/That only opens when your life explodes/On the other side, come home"), then tackle when the whole crew is there ("Don't you know you gotta get up/Get up and find a way back home?/So hold on tight, let's go/Leave behind false sense of hope/Where creeping shadows call your name") and then focus on post-canon efforts to clear the fences so the captive spirits can finally reach their final destinations ("As I'm waiting for the world to end/I'm clinging on to oxygen/I'm pulling captives by the hand/Come home, come home"). I have not shut up since my first read through TCS about the Harrowing of Hell imagery and, yeah, I just think I deserve this one, as a treat.

20. If you wrote a prequel to [A Merry Metamorphosis], what would it involve?

I know I already said this to you the other day, but bestie, do I have good news for you! Next (new) project on the list is literally this. 😆 To be fair, it doesn't exactly take a lot to encourage me to write pregnancy/kidfic, lol. But yeah, been thinking a lot about protectiveness and what that would look like for Lucy and Lockwood as they prepare for a baby, and how that would interact with their work (logistically and emotionally), considering they're still pretty young when they have Ivy.

27. How long did it take to write [Here's a Safe Place to Lay Your Heart Down ch. 2]? Describe the process.

FKlejgklaegl well. According to the date I created that Scrivener file, parts of that chapter were written in early September, and I just published it to AO3 last weekend, so you can do the math. Here's the thing about Lay Your Heart Down: while the core themes/message remained the same throughout, it went through several iterations in how I conceptualized it, and that made the writing process AGONIZING, because it was a constant repetition of knit/purl steps and untangling and reworking. (I don't knit, so take my metaphor with a grain of salt.) Honestly, this mostly came about because I kept asking myself if The Necklace counted as an engagement ring in Lockwood's mind, which obviously I kind of answered in Woke Up in a Safe House Singing, and that pivoted to a very vivid idea of how Lockwood would think about picking out a ring for Lucy and what it would look like and why. So. That could have been a drabble, but I also have a lot of feelings about the Touch/possession scene in the second episode, and that had to go somewhere!! And overlapped a lot, thematically. So a lot of the Lockwood having a self-isolating freakout stuff from ch. 2 was written first, plus the bit immediately after THB with the broken headphones and remembering watching Lucy dancing. All that used to be together in one chapter, which was going to be sandwiched between Lockwood picking out the ring and a sweet future scene that featured the ring somehow - the narrative started out even less linear than it ended up. (That final scene is now its own WIP.) Then I ended up with all the canon-era relationship development in the first chapter and the second could focus on that core conflict, Lockwood panicking about those lines from the show - "he gave me the ring, he wouldn't hurt me" - but in the context of all the various ways he could get Lucy hurt, because old conflicts (internal and interpersonal) tend to reemerge at transition points like the engagement period. A couple things that got me unstuck with this chapter were actually writing out more of what happened on the job that went wrong, letting Lucy be more upset (while still understanding), working out that Lockwood's fear this time was less about Lucy getting hurt and more about being the reason for that happening, and drawing direct parallels to Fairfax and Annabel (which in turn let me work in that good stuff about devotion and mutual belonging).

37. Promote one of your own “deep cut” fics (an underrated one, or one that never got as much traction as you think it deserves!). What do you like about it?

I'm not shocked Onward, Ontologically has gotten very few eyes on it - if nothing else, Continuum is a tiny fandom, even less active now than when I was originally writing for it, plus Kiera and Alec are a complicated ship (I'm often curious if they would still be a rarepair if the fandom were larger, though - I could see it going either way). It worked for my Yuletide recipient, though, and that's all that really matters. I really like the quiet domesticity of it, and that it leaves space for the S3 conflict between Alec and Kiera to remain somewhat unresolved - I like complicated, and I don't think an easy resolution would have been realistic after everything these two went through and did to each other, and the tangled doppelganger web.

Within this fandom, one I wish got a little more love was Smoke & Shield. Gen is usually a bit, idk the right word, quieter? So I wasn't expecting as much excitement as with my Locklyle works, but I do think it's a really good character study of Jessica and her relationship with her little brother. I got some truly lovely comments on it that tell me it still found an audience to resonate with, though!

49. What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it!

Well, since you attacked us all with baby fever, here's a snippet from the "Lucy learns she's pregnant with #4 via George's powers of observation" fic. (I don't think I've posted this bit before? Idk, this is the problem with lingering WIPs!) I've been WIP-hopping a lot, but this is one that's gotten a bit more focus lately:

With arms outstretched to take one twin off my husband’s hands, I explained, “I’m not even sure yet myself. It honestly hadn’t occurred to me until George said something, but…” My voice got smaller as I finished, “I think he might be right.” Transfer completed, Lockwood let his hand linger, then drop to hover just over my belly. At the open wonder on his face, I blushed. It wasn’t as though we hadn’t done this part before - twice, in fact - yet it seemed even at the mere possibility, he couldn’t help looking at me like I was made of something magic. To be fair, that wasn’t all that far off from Lockwood’s normal.

#personal #writer probs: fanfic edition #lockwood & co

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