#contraction doesn't make sense to me and it pains me

[kasagia]

Right Hand VI

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!exBeneGesserit! reader Summary: You're tired of listening to others and of being afraid of prophecies that don't make sense and that were made up by someone else. Your present belonged only to you. And hell knows, you're going to take your future too. Warning: 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; smut; I was listening to 'Down Bad' by Taylor and I used quotes from a few of them; TEXT NOT CHECKED - I' barely managed to write it on time' I've just ended it and wanted to post it for you, since you are waiting for it so long; it took me ages but I hope you will like it; Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART V ~•♤♤♤•~ Epilogue ~•♤♤♤•~

Feyd rarely felt pain he didn't like. The years spent on Giedi Prime—or rather, years of enduring his uncle's methods of making him a true Harkonnen, his worthy successor—made Feyd love pain. He found pleasure in it—something he had to learn if he wanted to survive.

But it didn't bring him any satisfaction or pleasure when you pierced his chest with one of his swords. He feels pure pain. Anger, betrayal, and hurt.

He hates the way he falls limply to his knees in front of you. He hates that he still looks at you like you're a saint. He hates that he hopes you'll at least look him in the eyes, as if that would bring him some kind of salvation. He hates how lost he feels now and how he's slowly losing awareness of his surroundings. He hates that even though you stabbed him, all he can do is stare at you, clinging to the sight of you more than to his life.

"This will be the beginning of a wonderful alliance, Lady Y/N."

He feels you unhook your poisoned dagger from his arm. Feyd thinks you're doing it to finish him off. Poetically kill him with the weapon he gave you. He closes his eyes and waits for the final stab or throat slit. But nothing like that happens. He doesn't have the strength to turn around and see exactly what you're doing, but your words alone are enough for him to imagine the scene that is happening behind him.

"I may not be a Harkonnen, but I've picked up a few of their habits. If you want an agreement between us, show me your hand." After your words, he can hear a hiss from Atreides when you plunge the dagger into your joined hands, piercing them both through.

Feyd would have laughed mockingly if he hadn't spent all his energy on breathing slowly. He remembered explaining to you how contracts, such as arranged marriages, were sealed on Giedi Prime. The Harkonnens shook hands and pierced them with swords, thus signing a blood pact. This also applied to marriages and other such things. Blood bound them stronger than any words or signatures on paper. He cursed himself for the fact that, seeing your scared face at his words, he withdrew from this idea and decided to make a verbal agreement between you. He should be the one to bind you with his blood, not Atreides.

The steel in his body rubs against his lower ribs, but it does not damage any major organs. He tries to keep the sword in the exact same position you stuck it in, but he feels like he's going to faint from all the pain, the blood, and the fear for you that he feels now.

You made him so weak that even after you stabbed him, all he could think about was your safety and your well-being. Every shaky breath he took, every slow beat of his heart as he fought to stay conscious—it was all for you.

He just hoped like hell that you weren't lying a few moments ago, that this would all turn out to be just one of your games, and that you would soon end Atreides' life. But it's not like that.

"Let this blood be a symbol of our union." Your sweet, dangerous whisper reaches Feyd's ears.

He's raging with powerlessness and anger. That Atreides dog didn't deserve to mix his blood with yours. Only Feyd should be able to do this. Only his black blood should merge with your crimson, staining your joined hands as you swore allegiance to each other. His heart hurts more than the wound you gave him as he imagine how you and this desert rat are now echanging each other's blood.

If he hadn't been placed in such a vulnerable state by you, he would have ripped Atreides' heart out with his bare hands for daring to mix his blood with yours. A cold shiver runs down his spine at the thought of Atreides connecting with you in yet another way. A way Feyd was robbed too many times.

He tries to get up, but he doesn't have enough strength. All he can do is place his hands on the floor, trying to take the weight off his torso. The blade scratching his flesh bothers him much less than the fact that Atreides has the nerve to touch you or that you're blatantly ignoring him while playing whatever game you're playing right now.

"Leave him to me. I want… to repay him for all these years of fulfilling his wishes." The cool, composed tone of your voice that you used many times when the two of you dealt with inconvenient prisoners did nothing to inspire his hope or quench his rage.

You really betrayed him. You, of all people. How stupid and naive he was to believe you. He should have killed you the moment his eyes met yours. You were an intruder. A spy in disguise. His bittersweet end.

The door slams shut behind Atreides. Feyd hears your footsteps, the sand from your soles falling back onto the ground—the same ground where his black, thick blood is now flowing. You walk over to him; if he could focus enough, he would see the toes of your shoes.

You kneel in front of him, gently tugging on his head, causing him to rest on your shoulder. He can smell your blood dripping from your hand. You stain his head with it. Under any other circumstances, he would have appreciated how close you were to him, but now, with the sword rubbing uncomfortably against his insides, your touch doesn't bring any comfort at all. Even your lips pressed against his forehead cannot calm the volcano of emotions boiling inside him. But he is helpless. He is unable to do anything; he is completely surrendered to your grace. It wouldn't bother him a few hours ago. Now he hated it.

"I'm sorry." You whisper, then use the voice on him to tell him to fall asleep. When he drifts off to sleep at your command, he is already planning how he will take revenge on you. And hell knows you're going to pay him for it.

"He'll be furious." One of your spies comments as she helps you carry Feyd's body out of the sietch.

Inessa was the only Harkonnen woman you could reasonably trust. She's done your dirty work many times, but... never THIS. You somewhat understood her concerns, but currently, when you both had to carry Feyd through the Fremen corridors and go unnoticed, you didn't necessarily approve of it.

"I am aware." You reply, looking around. Inessa and you somehow patched up Feyd's wound. Now you had to either drag him to the surface yourself and hope that someone would find him in the chaos of the fight or leave him with some of his soldiers.

You didn't like any of these ideas. But you had to do what you planned if you wanted to regain your freedom, even if it meant that Feyd would hate you for it for infinity.

"Fucking angry. I'm serious, Y/N." Inessa warns you again. You roll your eyes at her, for a Harkonnen she was very fearful.

You remember how her hands were shaking a few minutes ago as you both stitched up your new Baron. It was a makeshift dressing and still required treatment by a doctor, but it was enough to get Feyd to the ship and back to base. During this time, you will take care of everything here. You hope that by the time he wakes up, you will have finished what you set out to do. Otherwise, you don't see your future well.

"Just get him out of here." You grumble, turning into a side corridor, and encounter Harkonnen soldiers fighting the Fremen as they kill the last of them, their eyes shifting to the two of you. You nod at them. Without a word, they approach you and take Feyd from you. Inessa looks at you, worried.

"What if he wakes up?"

"You stuffed him with painkillers, and I ordered him to sleep. He won't get up until you're back on the ship." The woman sighs and shakes her head, looking at you intently as you speak.

"Y/N. You've had some… creatively stupid ideas, but this one is the worst of them all. He won't give up. You know it. So why are you doing this?" She asks, taking you off guard for a moment.

She was right. You could have returned to the ship with them, gone back to the safety of Giedi Prime, and let Feyd fight Paul alone. You could have let go and stopped participating in a war that wasn't yours. But at what cost? You've been obeying someone all your life. Bene Gesserit. Prophecies. Feyd. It's finally time for you to deal the cards. And you will do it. In your and Feyd's best interests. You just hoped that he could… forgive you, or see the reasoning behind your actions.

"For myself. For my freedom. For us. This is the only way to end the matter of Atreides, Fremen, and Arrakis. The only effective way."

"Don't you know it yet? You will never be free. We women will never enjoy men's freedom. There will always be someone to whom you must submit. You can't change your fate."

"Then I'd rather die trying." You say, turning on your heel. You don't look back to see her reaction to your words. You had too little time.

The burning sensation on your hand only reminded you of running out of it. The dagger that Feyd gave you must have also had an effect on Atreides. You don't know how advanced he is in Bene Gesserit teachings, so you had to hurry before he detected the poison in his body. Or, God forbid, neutralise it.

You wipe your sweating forehead with the sleeve of your hand as your body begins to fight the poison slowly accumulating in your body. The antidote rested safely in a small syringe hidden in the handle of the dagger you kept strapped to your thigh. You just had to use it when the time was right.

You hope you will get everything done before you die.

You wander through the corridors without knowing where you are. You just have a feeling in the back of your head about where you should go. Besides, the escaping Harkonnens kind of showed you the way into the sietch.

Your hands are shaking as you slowly approach the main room—the one where the Fremen usually gather for large meetings and in case of an attack. Still, you thank Feyd for forcing you to attend the Harkonenn war meetings. At least now you are more familiar with the location of the Fremen's rooms and methods.

The closer you get to the main hall, the more Fremen women push past you, and you feel a little more confident walking through the crowd with them, confident that they are leading you to your place of harm in case of an attack. Even though the Harkonnen were already retreating from the area, some of them were still fighting the Fremen, who craved the blood on their swords and didn't let them just leave. You can only imagine the Feyd's wrath that they will have to face. His men didn't come... fully armed. Apparently it was supposed to be a quick action—get in and out with you, then launch a full attack and invasion.

You know that once he wakes up and heals up a bit, he's going to paint these halls with blood before he burns them to the ground.

Entering the main room, you immediately take a seat by the wall, watching all the Fremen gathering, carefully looking for Atreides among them. He probably had to make sure they "cleared" the halls from the Harkonnens. It makes you sick to think of them bragging about this as a victory over the Harkonnens. It makes you wish you had a little bomb with you...

"Are you already hiding in the shadows?" You shiver when you hear him whisper in your ear. You haven't learned to recognise his steps yet. They were irregular, different, and hard to detect and remember—as if he were constantly moving through the sand like a feather.

"The quicker I adapt, the better, right?" You ask, raising an eyebrow at him in challenge. He shakes his head in amusement and watches the Fremen gather with you. It's strange that somehow no one has noticed him yet.

"I'm starting to understand why my cousin kept you so close to him."

"Cousin?" You ask in shock, turning your head towards him so you can look at him. This time he ignores you, not shifting his gaze from the Fremen.

"A little surprise. Maybe we all have a bit of Harkonnen in us after all?" He banters without giving you any of his attention. You snort indignantly, looking at the gathering people again.

"You look tired." You comment, wanting to tease him. You can barely keep yourself from stabbing him with your poisoned dagger a few times. But since he was talking to you so... carelessly, it meant he couldn't detect the poison. Good for you.

"I always am. I will rest when I sit peacefully on the imperial throne."

You would laugh at him if you could. He might easily sit on the emperor's throne, but he wouldn't be able to hold power over all the families for long. Certainly not if you and Feyd had anything to say about it.

Your heart clenches as you remember the moment you stabbed him. You had to. There was no other way to get rid of him long enough for you to take care of everything here. Also, he wouldn't allow you to do that if he knew what you were up to. Besides, if you didn't stab him, Atreides and he would get into a fight. Unfortunately, you weren't that confident in Feyd's abilities. He would be in a state of distraction if your well-being was at stake.

Besides, Atreides' words convinced you of this decision more than anything else.

More than one great king fell under the intrigue of a lesser man.

If there was anything you could praise about Paul Atreides, it was his cunning. And you were sure that if Atreides was somehow going to defeat Feyd, it would be through intrigue and trickery. And then you weren't ready to save your baron. So you had to use drastic measures to get him out and allow yourself to function fully. You couldn't give Atreides any leverage or advantage over you. You certainly couldn't reveal what a weakness Feyd was to you.

"Hmm… you have to survive first." You answered thoughtfully. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him turn his head to look at you. His intense, analysing gaze makes you burn as you have to endure his unwanted attention.

"With such a talented Bene Gesserit as MY right hand? I have not the slightest doubt. You proved your loyalty by killing my cousin. I have no doubt that you are capable of great things. However... this sudden change of sides is shocking, I must admit."

"Why? Because I chose something better for myself? It was the same with Feyd. I could either stay among the Bene Gesserit and hope they wouldn't send me to breed with anyone, or I could take matters into my own hands. And I don't like blindly entrusting my fate to someone else, Atreides."

"I see... you look good with independence, Harkonnen witch, but don't forget who you answer to."

"Of course, Fremen messiah." The nickname you give him makes me chuckle. He reaches up and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. You look carefully at his bandaged hand, which you pierced with a dagger.

You find yourself comparing his hands to Feyd's. Harkonnen's hands were hard, rough, trained from years of using all kinds of weapons. Atrdida's hands were smoother, less stained by effort. Another difference between them was that Feyd would never let anyone bandage the wound you gave him. He would rather wear them proudly until the wound heals itself. You should think it's sick, but years spent by his side have taught you… to appreciate such gestures. Maybe you really had a completely different perception of normality?

Atreides' fingers trace your jaw, caressing it gently. You look into his eyes and immediately see the familiar gleam of audacity in them. He looked at you like you were a prize—a nice thing that he managed to take from his enemy, which he can now put on his bedside table and look at to remember his victory. Under any other circumstances, you would have bitten his fingers off, but unfortunately, you had to behave. But only for a moment longer.

"What do you think you're doing?" An angry, cold female voice echoes behind you. Before you know it, you're being pushed sideways against the wall. A dagger at your throat. You act automatically. You attack a woman, disarm her, and push her against a wall. But before you can put a dagger at her throat yourself, Atreides steps between you.

"What's necessary, Chani. I would suggest you not attack my guest." The woman glares at him, and for a moment, you think she's going to attack him or spit on him. Then her anger shifts to you.

"This Harkonnen witch has killed more of our people than any of them. She should be dead, not taken in as a guest." She growls furiously, giving you a distrustful, mad look. You understand her perfectly. If you were in her place, you would do the same. Only Feyd, unlike Atreides, couldn't stop you from hurting your rival.

"It's not up to you to decide her fate."

Chani gives the two of you one last hateful glare and pushes past Atreides, moving into the crowd, away from the two of you. You look at the woman carefully, analysing her gait and posture. Similar to Atreides. So you found his teacher.

"Your…"

"Concubine." He finishes, thus answering your question. You raise an eyebrow at him in surprise.

"I see."

"Jealous?" This time, you can't help but snort in amusement, giggling at his absurd question.

"I would sonner be jealous of a sandworm than of you. What is bewteen us is just an agreement. Don't forget that, Atreides."

"That's why I like you. Give me a moment. We'll talk later. Don't go anywhere. I will find you."

He puts his hand on your shoulder. You assume he thinks it's a gesture of reassurance, but it's not for you. You anxiously wait for him to move away from you so he can speak to the crowd of Fremen.

You shiver as you briefly make eye contact with Chani, who is standing at the other end of the room. She's still seething with rage. You're not entirely sure why she's so devoted to Atreides, but after thinking about it longer, you realise what her reason is for being so protective over him. You would probably do the same things for Feyd as she did for Paul. However, you would be... more ruthless towards your rival. You wave to the woman, smirking. She looks away from you, focusing her gaze on Atreides.

You study him as well, carefully observing him as he speaks to the Fremen. He is imperious and powerful, but also arrogant and conceited. His overconfidence that he acquired among the Fremen—the belief that he was the chosen one—will lead to his death. You will lead him to death. Otherwise, no one will stand a chance against him. He had one significant thing that could ensure his victory: a huge crowd of people who blindly believed that he would bring them salvation if they obediently followed his every request.

And maybe you would feel sorry for these people and try to help them if your own freedom and future weren't on the line.

You play with the handle of your dagger. You press a small button. A small ampoule with a needle falls into your hand. You hiss, injecting the contents of the ampoule into your arm.

Atreides was right. - You think, listening carefully to the man's speech to the crowd. - More than one great king fell under the intrigue of a lesser man.

The faint hum of the ship's engine gives Feyd a clear indication of where he is. He opens his eyes and looks around the room. He's in the bedroom of one of Harkonnen's ships. He sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, and looks at his bare chest. He furrows his hairless eyebrows in surprise when he sees no wound or bandage—just a tiny, sealed scar in the area where you pierced him with the sword.

"Where are you going?" Your quiet, protesting whisper makes him freeze. After a while, he feels your warm hands on his shoulders as you pull him back into the soft sheets and into your arms. You cuddle up to him, wrapping your arms around him and burying your head in the crook of his neck. "Stay. We still have a lot of time before we land on Lankiveil, so you can spend it in bed with your wife. I doubt we'll find a moment of peace for ourselves when our little Na-Baron demands swimming lessons from you and a tour around the new planet, so use this little moment of peace."

Feyd's heart skips a beat when he feels your lips brushing on the skin of his neck and hears you calling yourself his wife. He allows himself to drown in the warmth of your body and the feeling of your gentle touch on his skin. He buries his nose in your hair, shuddering slightly as you place small kisses on his neck and lick his skin, teasing him. However, one thing was still bothering him…

"Little Na-Baron?" He asks, confused, when you lazily stroke his head with your fingers, drawing patterns on its pale skin.

"Our son. I pleased you so well last night that you forgot about our son, or are you just not awake yet, darling?" You ask him teasingly, opening your eyes to look at him for the first time.

Feyd is speechless when he sees the spark of malice in your eyes and the beautiful smile you give him. Your beauty, the calmness with which you lie curled on his chest—as if it were the most normal thing you do every day—and the strange warmth that spreads across his chest because of it make him lose his ability to speak.

You giggle, pulling him closer to you and placing a tender, gentle kiss on his lips. You moan, enjoying the feeling of his plush lips, sucking on his bottom lip as you claim him as yours. Feyd feels himself starting to harden just from the feeling of your lips on his and the teasing movements of your fingers around his nipples.

"I…" He tries to speak, but then he hears the baby's soft whimpering. He tenses up, unaccustomed to any interaction with children.

His gaze goes from the cradle placed in the corner of the room to you in pure panic, as he has no idea what to do with the crying baby. But you don't seem to care about the baby crying as much as he does. You groan in protest and pull away from him, burying your face in the pillow.

"Mhm... go to her, it's your turn." You mumble, not giving him a glance, as you hug the pillow instead of him. He starts to be a little jealous, but that feeling fades away, replaced by panic as the baby's cries intensify.

"Now you're letting me go?" He asks, hoping you'll change your mind and take care of the crying demon in the cradle yourself.

"I simply found a better use for you elsewhere." He huffs, leaning towards you and ruffling your hair. You punch him in the chest and force him out of bed. He rolls his eyes at you and turns hesitantly towards the crib.

He feels his legs shaking and his heart beating with nervousness. Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen is stressed and nervous by a crying baby in a cradle. He breathes deeply as he stands over the cradle.

His world stops when his eyes meet small irises that are a similar shade of blue to his. And his heart stops when he sees a little copy of you. Your child is undoubtedly a reflection of you. She only has his eyes, but the colour of her skin and hair, the shape of her nose, mouth, and eyes are all you. Feyd's heart pounds as he stares at the small miracle before him. Suddenly, the sounds reach him again. Panicked, he takes the baby gently, making sure not to accidentally hurt her, and in a few quick steps, he is by your side again.

"I… I think it is hungry." He says, reaching out towards you to hand the baby to you as quickly as possible.

"Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, did you just call our daughter it?" You ask angrily, sitting on the bed and looking at him furious. You sigh at his helpless expression and take your daughter from him. "Forgive daddy, Katerina. He doesn't usually behave like this." You mumble sweetly to the baby, trying to calm her down.

Miraculously, because Feyd can't call it anything else, you manage to calm down the baby in your embrace, her little lips pursing in dissatisfaction as she waits for you to feed her. Feyd swears she makes the exact same face you do when you're impatient or angry. His heart melts even more at the image in front of him.

Feyd sits on the edge of the bed, watching in fascination as you feed your baby. This scene seems... unreal to him. He had never experienced anything like this before—the feelings of warmth, safety, and boundless love and devotion that appear in him when he looks at the two of you.

He may have had vague memories of his mother singing bedtime lullabies to him and Rabban, but... he had never felt the way he did with you and your daughter. He had never felt that disarming feeling of home that made him allow himself to become vulnerable for the first time in many years.

He uncertainly reaches towards the child and gently strokes his daughter's head. The colour of her hair is identical to yours. Feyd's lips form involuntarily in a smile when the child reaches her little hand to his fingers, tightening his fist firmly. As she gently moves his hand away from her head, she does not let her grip on his fingers loosen. She was strong for a baby. She certainly had a warrior nature inherited from both of you. Feyd couldn't wait to train her...

He found himself thinking that all he wanted was to curl up in this bed with you and hold you safely in his arms before he would be brutally torn from this beautiful dream or vision.

He sits on the bed, looking at the two of you, when suddenly the bedroom door opens. The thud of small feet on the metal floor echoes around the room, and that's all the warning Feyd gets before the little white-haired boy lunges at him.

"Dad! Dad! We'll be there soon! I can't wait. Uncle Rabban told me that there are huge oceans that can swallow our ships if we land wrong! Is it true?" Asks the child, sitting on his lap and holding him tightly.

Feyd hesitantly wraps his arms around the boy, making sure he doesn't accidentally fall from his lap to the floor. His gaze quickly shifts to you in utter confusion. Rabban as a caring, mischievous uncle? What the hell was that supposed to be?

"Your uncle has a habit of distorting some facts, Feydor. I assure you we'll be fine. And Lankiveil is wonderful, isn't it, honey?" You ask Feyd, resting Katerina on your shoulder and making sure she burps.

"Yes. It is beautiful." He says, unconsciously running a hand through his son's hair as he looks at the three of you, unable to get over the shock and awe.

"I want a hug." Your son demands. You laugh as you pull him closer to you. When you see that Feyd isn't moving to join you all, you grab his hand and gently guide him back to the soft pillows. You lie there curled up, you with Katerina on your chest, Feydor between you and him as you wrap your arms around each other.

His son mutters something to his sister, but Feyd doesn't hear him. All he can do is stare at the three of you in amazement.

"Now sleep. Both of you. I don't want to hear any grumpy complaints about not getting enough sleep, okay, my boys?"

'It only happened once." Feydor mumbles, manoeuvring your and Feyd's hands to hug him tightly. "Besides, Dad was whining worse than me."

"I have no doubt that was the case. Your dad is a terribly fussy and grumpy man." You laugh and lean in to place a quick kiss on Feyd's lips. He strokes your waist, moving closer to you and your son as baby Katerina mumbles something in a language only she knows.

Feyd can only watch tenderly as his little family falls asleep, curled up in each other's arms. And he believes that this is the best possible future that can await him. He doesn't want the throne. He doesn't want to become emperor. He just wants to be able to fall asleep and wake up with you in his arms and your children running around. It's all he dreams about.

The younger Feyd would certainly laugh at him and mock him for such a trivial goal he had set for himself, but what more could he want with the title of baron and you by his side?

He saw perfectly well how the lives of his uncle and emperor turned out and knew the tragic fate of great people in power who decided to devote their entire lives to achieving the greatest possible influence. Feyd didn't want to follow in their footsteps. He wanted you. He realised, with horror, that this was enough for him—the vision or dream he had now was his ideal future.

"I love you." He whispers to your sleeping form before the darkness overwhelms him again.

He wakes up again on the ship, in the same room, and on the same bed. The difference is that your warm body is not pressed against his, and the throbbing pain from his stomach spreads uncomfortably throughout his body.

He groans, sitting on the bed and looking around. His hairless eyebrows wrinkle when he sees one of your spies with him. He automatically grabs the hidden knife and attacks your spy before she notices that he woke up.

"My Lord Baron, I can explain…" The woman says this as he presses the blade against her chest. She stops talking when he cuts off her access to the air by tightening his grip on her neck.

"Where is my right hand?" He growls, sticking to the remains of his control when he refrains from killing her. However, he does not stop himself from making a light cut on your spy's neck. Years of experience have proved that people were more willing to talk after he took some blood from them.

"It really wasn't my idea. She decided so. She knew that you would not let her do what she was planning, so she had to somehow... get rid of you from there, my lord Baron."

"Hm... that sounds like her, but... I would like to hear more about that plan of her. Say something useful and I might even spare your life." Feyd purrs, lazily dragging the blade down her neck to her collarbone, making a small cut.

He preferred not to hurt your toy too much. He didn't know how you would react to the loss of this particular spy. She must have been someone you trusted to entrust him to her.

But that didn't mean that Feyd couldn't land his anger at you on her for leaving him behind and completely unaware of your actions.

"Long ago, the Bene Gesserit had only one reverend mother. Their order was small then, but it was developing well. A certain ritual was invented to ensure that the most powerful of them was in power. It… is about the struggle of life forces. I don't know exactly how it's done, but… lady Y/N said that they both have to die for one of them to survive. She… she knew you wouldn't let her, so she had to make you leave that rat's nest so she could get the job done." A cold shiver runs down Feyd's spine. He needs a moment to compose himself and process your spy's words before he speaks again.

"They both have to die? What do you mean?" He asks, unconsciously tightening his already painful grip on the woman. His hand, the one holding the dagger, trembles slightly as he impatiently stares at her, waiting for an answer.

"I... they have to... they... their hearts stop beating and... the one who is stronger and has more life energy takes over the other's powers and survives."

"So... she may lose and die?" Fed sees your spy swallowing heavily after hearing his question. Thanks to this, he already knows the answer to it.

Strangely, instead of the huge, red fury and bloodlust, everything he feels is fear. Since he arrived at Giedi Prime, he has never felt fear. His uncle made sure that this emotion did not prevent him from reaching the ideal that his uncle demanded from Feyd. But at this point, when the vision of your dead body appears before his eyes, Feyd feels almost paralysed by fear of your life.

"There is... a little possibilty, my lord Baron."

This information is enough for him to make a decision. He stabs your spy in the stomach and allows her to sit on a bed. He reaches the exit in a few steps and opens the door with a bang. A doctor and two soldiers are waiting in the corridor. They look at him with fear in their eyes when he comes out, covered in blood. Before they can speak and probably inform him about his state of health, Fed is already growling at them and giving orders.

"Heal her and bandage her. She was only fulfilling my fiancee's orders." Fed tells the doctor. He is pleased with the surprise he sees on your spy's face. He intends to enjoy informing everyone about his 'engagement' with you. If you could have your plans, he could have some of his too. "Tell the pilot to turn back. And call more ours. We will burn these rats' nests to the ground."

With this promise, he leaves the room, ignoring the pain in his trunk. He must have found you before Fremen left with you for another hideout. He had to be fast and precise if he wanted to have you safe by his side. Maybe he should also ask the doctor for a sedative. Just in case you were stubborn enough to fight him instead of cooperating with him.

"What do you think?" Atreides' question catches you off guard for a moment. You stop watching the Fremen as they prepare to leave the sietch and shift your gaze to Atreides, raising an eyebrow in question. "About them. About my speech there."

"Are you looking for praise?" You mock, taking a closer look at what exactly he's putting into his bundle.

"I'm looking for a second opinion. Objective. Analytical and thorough." He replies, tying the fabric as he waits for your response.

"They will do whatever you want. Isn't that enough for you?" You ask, licking your lips as you choose your words carefully. You can see beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Paul wipes them away with his hand, not yet aware of the poison that courses through his veins.

You wanted to make sure as much as you could that when the moment came to defeat him and take his life force, there would be no shadow of a doubt that you would emerge victorious from the duel between you. After he went through the Reverend Mothers ceremony, you could try to perform the old ritual of reclaiming power between you two. This hasn't been done for centuries. So you hoped that everything you remembered from the old scrolls was true and that Atreides wouldn't surprise you with anything.

Even if he was a Kwisatz Haderach, you're still going to defeat him. No one and nothing will decide your fate.

"For now, yes. But in the future, I will need their full devotion. After all, I won't be the one to rule them on Arrakis." You raise your eyebrows questioningly, curious as to what his big plan for the future might be.

"Who do you want to entrust them to?"

Silence falls between you as you both look at each other intently. You know he's judging you, wondering how much he can tell you and how much he can hide from you. And you have to be convincing enough to gain even a little bit of trust from him. You know that stabbing Feyd helped you a lot with that. No matter how much it hurt you to do it.

"To be honest, you have the best skills to serve as Governor of Arrakis. The only question is, will you be equally faithful to me?"

"Me? Why?"

"They're already afraid of you. Besides, I saw your power—you're quite a powerful Bene Gesserit. Even if you don't like being called that, you can't cheat or change your destiny, no matter what."

"But... it is not all about power and fate, though is it?" You ask, slowly approaching him. "It is... something more there. Much more than we know." You whisper, looking at him with your most captivating gaze. Feyd would have killed him and tortured you if he saw you flirting with someone else... but luckily he wasn't here. And you had to somehow lower Atreides' guard.

"Indeed." He mumbles back and takes a step towards you. His fingers gently caress your jaw, tracing it until his fingertips brush against your lips. "My mother told me legends about the birth of the most powerful of the Bene Gesserit. A woman who could bring thousands to their knees with a wave of her finger, tamed the most bloodthirsty of all beasts. Stilgar... has suspicions that you may be the mother of the one, the one to come. Of course, this conflicts with his perception of me as the chosen one."

He spoke the truth. You were the most powerful of the Bene Gesserit. But not because you were born according to their program. You simply had potential, and they had way too much time and no obstacles to train you differently. You were supposed to be their perfect pawn in their game, to provide them with the Kwisatz Haderach. And now… you will kill the one who was supposed to be him.

"Even so, you don't lose power. They still listen to you. More than anyone else." You say, shifting your gaze from his eyes to his lips. He licks them, holding your jaw tightly as he leans slightly towards you.

"I may be my father's son, but I'm not going to make the same mistakes. You know, it is much safer to be feared than loved because... love is preserved by the link of obligation which, owing to the baseness of men, is broken at every opportunity for their advantage; but fear preserves you by a dread of punishment which never fails."

"The prince Machiavelli." You say, knowing a quote from the book. You're a little surprised that he would read something like that. He also seems amazed that you know what book he took these words from.

"Indeed. Hmm... Maybe you're not that cruel and bloodthirsty Harkonnen witch people think you are. After all, you're a bit educated." Under any other circumstances, you would have kicked him in... his tender place for this. But now you have to smile sweetly, comforting yourself only with the thought that he will soon die at your hands.

"Believe me, Atreides. I am everything they talk about and more." You mumble before leaning in to connect your lips in a kiss.

Kissing him is… different from kissing Feyd. Less intense, less hot, and less passionate. With him, you don't feel that familiar thrill of excitement you feel every time Feyd literally devours you. This kiss is... too polite. There's not an ounce of desire in him, at least not on your part. You try to be persuasive, though, caressing his lips, but it's not the same plush softness of Feyd's lips. Your mind refuses to be fooled, and you realise with horror how deeply your new Baron has managed to get under your skin when you haven't been able to enjoy the kiss of any other man.

Atreides reaches for your hips, pulling you closer to him as he deepens the kiss, moaning into your mouth. At least he was the only one having fun out of the two of you. You place your hands on his shoulders, slowly pulling your hidden dagger from your sleeve as you let the man kiss you and explore your body with his hands.

You almost sigh with relief when his lips finally leave yours. He moves to kiss your neck, and you decide that this is the moment to start the ritual.

"Stay still. Don't move or speak." You use the voice on him. He stiffens in an instant, his eyes widening slightly as the steel of your poisoned blade presses against his neck. "You were right. It's better to make them afraid of you than to love you."

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him grab his hidden knife. But before he can stab you, you place your hands on his temples and recite the old formula, beginning the ritual. You feel yourself slowly starting to lose strength. You both kneel to the floor, life draining from the two of you.

It has begun. - you think as darkness takes over you.

This... is different from what you expected. Nowhere is it written what happens after the connection between the brains of the Bene Gesserit combatants is made. Or what kind of test are the two of you being put through to find out which one of you is stronger. You thought you and Atreides would stand in some imaginary arena and fight until one of you killed the other.

At least you would prefer this to the burning pain that overwhelmed you. You feel like you're immersed in pure, wild fire. All your nerves were burning. You felt your body, but at the same time, you were far from it. And all you could see and hear was blackness, screams, whispers, and songs in a language foreign to you. You feel like you've gone mad. Any pain you've felt doesn't compare to what you're going through right now.

You feel every cell in your body tear apart, and at the same time you remain in a void, unaware of anything except the feeling of pain.

But you endure it.

And suddenly, everything disappears. For a moment, you feel or hear nothing. It's just you and your consciousness as you anxiously await the turn of events.

Then various images begin to appear before your eyes—visions of the future and the past. You see every possible course of events that could occur and every single scenario that may happen. In some visions, both you and Feyd die; in others, it's just him or you; and in others, you both live to old age together. One element is constant. Only one. And you shudder every time you see the familiar figure of your future son ascending the throne as the Emperor and taking care of the entire world, restoring balance and peace.

All of Atreides' power has passed onto you. You knew everything. All possible futures. And they scared you more than you thought they would. And you feel completely different than you thought you would...

After some time and tens of thousands of visions, you return to your body. You begin to feel everything around you—the soft sheets beneath you, the softness of the pillow beneath your head, and the quiet beeping of the machines keeping you alive.

You struggle to open your eyes, hissing as the light hits your eyes. You look around, expecting to find a familiar hospital room, but instead you find yourself in Feyd's chambers. On fucking Giedi Prime.

"Welcome among the living." Feyd's hoarse voice reaches your ears. You turn your head towards him—too quickly, making you feel a little dizzy—but you open your mouth to speak anyway.

You have a terrible coughing fit, and your throat is drier than it has ever been on Arrakis. As you curl up on Feyd's bed, coughing up your lungs, you see him quickly fill a glass of water from the corner of your eye. He sits next to you, pulling you against his chest. You lean your back against him and drink the water greedily.

Feyd gently strokes your back, watching carefully as you drink the water. His gaze is watchful and attentive as he makes sure you drink the last drop from your glass.

When you finish, he takes your glass and walks over to the table to set it down. A cold shiver runs through you as you feel the absence of his presence. You remember how the last time you saw him, he was unconscious and injured. Because of you.

"I was more expecting to be chained to a wall in a prison cell. Or to have your harpies hovering over me and waiting for you to cut me up for them." You say jokingly, teasing him. But he doesn't laugh. You see him tense at your words before he slowly turns to face you.

"I had such an idea in my mind a month ago, when I found you pale as death in the arms of the equally dead Atreides. But I guess enough time has passed for me to get over it… or I just killed enough Fremen and doctors and Bene Gesserit women who couldn't bring you back to calm myself down."

"Month?" You ask, swallowing thickly as you bravely endure his stern glare.

"Mhmm… a month, two weeks and five days to be precise. This whole time, you were either losing your pulse or screaming until your throat was torn. Also, you had a fever that we barely managed to break down, and you were pronounced dead a few times, but who cares, right?" He asks casually, but you can clearly see the rage bubbling inside him despite his obvious concern for you.

"Oh… that's… a while."

"A little bit more than a while." He growls at you, playing with his dagger—the exact same one he gave you. You shudder as you see how much the blade has bent from the blood of the people you used it on.

"What about Atreides?" You ask, confused, wondering if it was really a good idea to bring this up now. Especially since he is playing with a poisoned dagger in his hands. And you used up the antidote to it (apparently) a month ago.

"I have his head. Do you want it on a silver platter, or should I just frame his tongue and hang it on the wall? Maybe right next to yours for being a liar and a traitor?" He asks furiously. But that's not what scares you the most. He's calm. Too calm and composed. And this was often how his anger manifested itself before he killed his victims.

"I... you know perfectly well that I had to do it. If I had done it differently, his... skills would have been lost. And I... now I see everything. I can prevent everything, I can make everything fine. Isn't that a big advantage for you? Have an oracle next to you?" You ask, slightly nervous about what he's going to do next.

"Depends on what this oracle wants to show me and what it doesn't want to show me. But since you know everything and the entire future, you probably know what I will do now." He says and heads towards the exit.

Your heart clenches, and you feel an inexplicable panic as you see him walk away from you. You can't stand how cold he was towards you. You have to do something. You can't just let him go.

"Feyd." You call after him and get out of bed to follow him. When you're on your legs, you lose your balance, and you would have fallen to the floor if Feyd hadn't caught you in his arms.

You dig your fingers into his shoulders, holding onto him as you breathe quickly. You look at each other for a moment, allowing yourself to immerse yourself in the closeness of the other one.

Feyd places his hand under your knees and picks you up in bridal style. He puts you on his bed again and pulls away to leave. You grab his elbow tightly and hold on, forcing him to stay by your side as you give him a desperate, pleading look for him not to leave you.

Feyd sighs, sitting next to you on the bed. He leans towards you and rests his forehead against yours. He closes his eyes, brushing his nose against yours. And you feel really calm for the first time in years.

"You have no idea... I have killed men for smaller things than that. The only reason you're still alive... is because I prefer to destroy you myself. Without the help of any sick rituals or poison. You'll be begging me to kill you, little witch. I'll make you go through the same damn pain you put me through. You'll be begging me to stop making you scream. Oh, and I'll make you scream much louder than becasue of this stupid ancient ritual."

You know he's mad at you. And he has every right to do so. But you can't take his words seriously. Not when you have irrefutable proof of the depth of his feelings for you. As he said, he killed for less. If he wanted to, he would have gotten rid of you or hurt you by now. But he didn't.

"I'll happily scream because of you, my Baron." You reply, placing your hands on his cheeks. You stroke his cheekbones with your thumbs, trying to memorise every little bit of his skin.

"I… I'm serious." He growls at you. He places his hand on your neck and squeezes it gently. You smile and press a kiss just near the corner of his mouth.

"Me too. Do it. Show me how loud you want me to scream for you." You challenge him, placing small kisses on his face.

"Y/N... I should have killed you ages ago, woman. You poisoned my mind, you stabbed me with a sword, you left me alone to deal with the mess you made, you forced me to worry about you while you slowly died in front of me day by day, and I couldn't do any-fucking-thing. So tell me, how can I get past this? Why is it that all I want to do is fuck you until I feel like you're really alive and around me?"

You bite your lip, trying not to moan at his words. You lick your lips and lean towards him, kissing him. He moans into your mouth and tries to pull away from you, but you grab his neck and pull him towards you. Your heart speeds up as your lips caress his as you give all of yourself to him in that kiss.

You gently massage his scalp and lie down on the pillows. You pull him with you as he starts to kiss you back. You moan into his mouth, wrapping your legs around his hips. He pulls away from you with a growl and presses his forehead against yours, trying to calm down for your sake. After all, you had just woken up... too bad his cock wasn't as sympathetic to you as you rubbed against him.

"I… my mother was a Harkonnen, you know? Maybe that's why I was so drawn to you. Like calls to like or something like that." You gasp, remembering the memory you saw. Feyd furrows his hairless eyebrows in surprise. A shiver runs across his skin, realising the power you've taken from Atreides.

"What else do you know?" He asks, caressing your cheek. You turn your head and press a kiss on the palm of his hand. You surprise him even more, but he's not going to protest when you show him affection. This was very rare in his life, and the fact that this small, voluntary gesture of adoration was coming from you made him even harder.

"That I don't want to lose you for some visions that may or may not happen. That you love me and that these months have been torture for you. That you hated me as much as you needed me to come back to you. That I… only want to think about us. I only care about our future, and I'm willing to watch this world burn if it means I can hold your hand until the end. with no fear that fate will make us hate each other. That I want you to be the only prophecy I care about."

"What about your escape from fate? You never wanted… to be part of this Kwisatz Haderach thing. Will you run away from me when you see that the path we are following leads inevitably to what you were so afraid of?"

His doubts are absolutely right. But that doesn't change the fact that you need him close to you right now. That you need his reassurance that everything will be fine, not his resentment. And you know it was wrong of you to demand from him things like that, but... nothing about your relationship was healthy anyway.

"Fuck it if I can't have us. Fuck it if I can't have you." You say and pull him in for another kiss. He moans in shock into your mouth but quickly responds to you with equal passion. You gasp as he grabs your waist tightly and lifts you up, making you sit on his lap.

"You said you love me." He gasps as he slowly removes your nightgown that he dressed you in himself.

"I did... I also stab you." You say as your hands reach up to start undressing him as well.

"You did. And you killed Atreides." He purrs against your jaw, placing kisses and hickeys there.

"I did." You groan, your hands shaking as you try to get rid of his clothes as quickly as possible.

"You handed me over to our people."

"I did. You are quite heavy." You giggle as he blows on your neck, tickling you, before sinking his teeth into it. You dig your fingers into his back, pulling him close to you.

"Why did you do this?" He asks, pulling away from you to look at you carefully, gauging your reaction, making sure you were always on his side, and doing everything for your mutual good. For his good.

"Because I decide about my fate. Not Bene Gesserit, not any Atreides, not you or anyone. Only me. And I want you. And love you. And need you. But only as my equal... and if you will have me."

"I won't let you go anymore." He warns, laying you down on the bed and towering over you.

"I will never want to leave." You promise, looking into his icy blue eyes and stroking the scar on his lower stomach—from the wound you gave him.

"Good."

"Good."

"Say it again."

"Good?" You ask teasingly, pressing kisses to his neck and giving him a few hickeys, marking him as yours with more than just his scars.

"No. You know what."

"I love you."

"About damn time." He growls, devouring your mouth. You moan as he bites into your lower lip. You both don't hold back anymore. Feyd marks you like a map, as if he wanted to memorise all the sensitive places that made you moan and writhe in pleasure, pressing into his muscled body.

You forget for a moment the whole world, everything you've done for him, everything you both should have discussed—all you can think about is Feyd. About wanting to be closer to him, about needing him as desperately as he needs you. So how can Feyd resist you when you're so willing to take him in? When he had dreamed of this moment for years? When can he finally satisfy his desire for your body?

He trails his kisses lower, gently taking your nipple into his mouth and cupping your other breast, massaging it. You moan, scratching his scalp, throwing your head back against the pillows, and grinding your hips against his.

You're both starting to get annoyed by the underwear that's preventing you from clinging to each other the way you want. Feyd rips your panties off of you, wasting no time in pushing his fingers into you. You whine, thrashing around on the bed, wanting more and yet too sensitive for anything else. You open your eyes and gasp at the sight of his full, erect length rubbing against your thigh. Feyd pinches your nipple, making you moan and shifting your gaze to him.

"Eyes on me, little witch."

"But... ach!" You moan as his fingers speed up inside you, tears forming in your eyes as your hips move in time with the rhythm of his fingers as you chase your orgasm.

"Listen to your Baron. Eyes on me." He pauses to slap your pussy. You moan, biting your lower lip. "And don't hold back any sounds. Or I'll punish you like I should have since you woke up."

It's very hard to keep your eyes open for him. Especially when his fingers massage your clit so perfectly and fill you up. You reach your hand to his hard cock on your thigh and rub it gently.

He growls, kissing you hard and punishingly, as you try to speed things up and make him lunge at you in a frenzy of lust, when he wants to tease your pussy and punish you accordingly first.

For a month he waited by your bedside, bravely holding you through the stages of your screams and high fevers, making sure you were alive, breathing, and your heart was beating in a rhythm he had memorized. He deserves to have some fun with you...

"Feyd... please..." Your moans, the kisses you place on his jaw, and the way your fingers caress the scar on his muscled stomach—the one you gave him yourself—make him lose his restraint, which was already frail and weak. At least that's how he explains his desire to immediately fulfill your wish.

His arms wrap around you tightly as he gently pushes into you, making sure his entire alabaster length will fit inside you. He stops, cursing in his tongue and resting his forehead against yours as he gives you a moment to adjust to his length. Finally. He finally feels you all around him. And you're tighter than he dreamed.

"Damn… you little witch…"

"I know..." You gasp, wrapping your arms around him, and kiss him hungrily, basking in the feeling of fullness as his length perfectly fills the void inside you. It's warm. It's nice to feel him so close to you. It's nice to be with him. You moan as he starts to move slowly, testing how far he can go.

Feyd growls, picking up his pace when you don't protest, his hips bucking wildly against yours, and you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer.

He grips one of your hips and cups your cheek with the other, making sure your eyes are focused on him. He kisses away the tears streaming down your cheek, licking them off your face. He kisses you fervently and hungrily, catching every moan and grunt you make as his hips grind against yours. A wet sound echoes through the room, occasionally interrupted by a moan from either of you as you finally come together in the most primal, animalistic way, demanding each other.

"Mine. Only mine." Feyd growls into your neck; his thrusts are faster and more precise, making you bite your lip to hold back your moans, but he doesn't let you do it for long. He wants to feel and hear all of you. He wants to revel in his victory. That's why he kisses you, biting your buttom lip to the blood. He pulls away and leans his forehead on yours as he listens to the little sounds you make as he fucks the brain out of you. "Can you feel how deep I am? How well am I filling you? You will be a beautiful Baroness. Fuck. My future wife. The mother of my children." He moans in your ear. You don't answer; you take ragged breaths, listening to the squelch of your joined bodies echoing around his chambers.

"You were meant for me. Just like I was for you. I will never let you escape again, I will never again let you out of my sight for more than a second, I will never again let you fight against the world and fate alone. We are the two sides of the same coin... WE. ARE. UNITY." He growls, making one last few hard pushes into you, making you both cum. He captures your lips in a kiss, muffling both of your screams as you fall apart around him, feeling his warm seed flood your womb.

You shake, wrapping your arms around him tightly, trusting him to hold the weight of both of you as you see nothing but white light in your orgasmic haze. You can't feel your legs, but you know you're still clenching them tightly around him. Your mind is empty; you feel amazing, electric bliss.

And for that moment you knew what cosmic love really meant. And you would fight with anyone to be able to experience it whenever you wanted.

"I love you." Feyd whispers, pressing a kiss to your temple and tightening his grip around you.

He slowly pulls out of you and collapses next to you, still holding you in the iron grip of his arms. You lazily snuggle into him and trace the scar you gave him with the fingertip of your finger. Guilt grows within you, and for a moment, you think that he purposely allowed this scar to remind you of what you did.

You decide to talk to him about everything tomorrow. It was just the two of you for now, and you were going to enjoy this as long as you could. You place your head into the crook of his neck and take his hand in yours. You tangle his other hand in your hair and snuggle into him, sighing as you feel his touch, warmth, and scent around you.

You both fall asleep cuddled together. And for a moment, you allow yourself to be in bliss of his touch and closeness, not worrying about any politics or issues that you should discuss instead of... giving in to something you have wanted for a long time.

From now on, you decide your fate.

Only you and Feyd.

That's why you make sure that your first child will be a daughter.

Taglist: (I REALLLLY hope that everyone who wanted to be here is here...😅 I;m sorry if I missed someone <3) @skymoonandstardust @prettybubblesintheair @thegabbyh @himesuedi @wo-ming-bai @beebeechaos @mamawiggers1980 @moonsoulk @avidreader73 @heartarianagran @dreamlandcreations @ancientbeing10 @lovereadingfanfic @jeansjoie @workof-a-rr-t @aixicl @ladyredstar1991 @evangelineimagine @hobobobo-fett56 @happyant3 @marsflys @aaaaaamond @kamcrazy123 @k1swass @yum-yahgurt @tyns13 @oh-you-mean-me @menari @tyns13 @vaf24 @dacreshoney @emrennoll-blog @tian-monique @slightlypossessed @celestialadrift @lauramooij05 @flaps200 @chixnugg22 @aaaaaamond @marvelfangirl04 @sw33tsnow @emeraldsgirl @imyourbubblegumpop @tempt-ress @harkonnin @k1swass @alana4610 @cloudroomblog @lotus-888 @lowlyloved @spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack @w3ird11 @kythefangirl25 @hobobobo-fett56 @nj452896 @oneandonlybbygrl @noirecatt @iloved1lfs0 @mamawiggers1980 @lololfixu @barnes70stark @obsessedvibee @aaaaaamond @workof-a-rr-t  @oneandonlybbygrl @alexa4040 @lowlyloved @toertchen @em-100 @caintheking @justarandomflowerchildofthenight @hrtifyeren

[tiredmamaissy]

Ralak te Sepawn ieyk’itan: Special Episode VI 

Labor of Love - Part III

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's insanely talented creator @zestys-stuff. Thank you so much for allowing me to play around with your characters!

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (25) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (20) featuring Metkayina!Zu’té (29)

Warnings: zero smut, explicit childbirth, water birth, difficult labour, contractions, amniotic fluid, breastfeeding, family fluff, expletives, this is a bit angsty but there’s a happy ending

Word Count: 7.3k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: the following depicts a very detailed, difficult, and medically inaccurate birth. This is graphic. I am quite literally going to simulate a birthing experience in your pov and I strongly suggest opting out now if anything pregnancy or birth related could make you uncomfortable. Finally, this is most definitely not medical advice, nor should this be used as a reference for what to expect during birth. This is a fanfiction about blue aliens, after all. With that being said, let’s welcome Ralak into fatherhood!! Enjoy 😊

Synopsis: Things were moving too fast until they weren't moving fast enough. The time has come and you're starting to doubt your capabilities. But thankfully your mate is here to guide you through this.

<- Previous

“Okay, Toto. Just do it. Go in there.” Zu’té sounds breathless as he speaks to himself, turning around to face the door. He hears your whimper and his jaw tightens. “Shit. Okay. Right.” Just as he raises his hand to pull back the curtain, he hears a winded voice.  “Brother.”

Zu’té spins around to face the voice of an angel—Ralak.

“Oh, thank Eywa. Thank you great mother. Thank you.” Zu’té chants in relief despites being one of the least spiritual persons someone can meet. He knew deep down that Eywa answered his call. 

Zu’té makes eye contact with the dishevelled and worn out giant. His attention is immediately drawn to the lengthy gash on his shoulder that seems to have been stitched up in a haste. 

“Ay’ana.” Ralak growls when he sees him staring.

The colour drains from Zu’té ‘s face, but before he can respond, Ralak’s ears perk up when they hear what seems to be a low whimpering. It sounds as if you're straining and struggling to breathe. His eyes dart behind Zu’té and then quickly snap back to his brother, filled with panic. 

Zu’té just barely shakes his head, urging himself to focus on the most important thing right now. 

“Your mate is in labour, tak.”

Ralak’s eyes widen at the confirmation. He knew it. He felt it back inland. 

Without another passing second, Ralak pushes past Zu’té and enters his marui. You hear the faint flap of the door and try to shift yourself in order to keep some level of decency.  

“I said to leave.” You’re breathless, gripping relentlessly onto the wooden stilt.

Ralak’s frozen in place, taking in the sight of you labouring by yourself. One that no matter how painful, is a sight he has always longed to see. A sense of pride fills his chest, his mate is showing such great strength that it’s admirable. Bringing life to his child is something he will eternally be grateful for. 

But then he sees your fingernails. How they've gone dull from all your gripping and scraping, and his sense of pride quickly mixes with shame. Shame that he has left you alone in this. 

Your laboured breathing is audible, practically wheezing as you struggle to breathe through the last lap of this contraction. You keep holding your breath and it’s more than evident from the red tinge in your face. Breathing is no longer the thing that you’re most focused on anymore, it’s the pressure between your legs.

He doesn't want to startle you but he can’t just watch you suffer any longer. He approaches you cautiously, examining you in attempts to discern how far into your labour you are. 

You're glazed in a layer of sweat, glimmering in the faint light of the first sliver of sun. Your shoulders rise and fall rapidly as you pant faster than a viperwolf pup, and your belly is low and firm as it tightens from the contraction. 

Ears laid flat to your skull and brows tightened, you curl over and clutch your stomach. He releases his clenched jaw and lessens the distance between the two of you. He gently places his hands on your lower back, pressing into you with the ball of his palm. 

The warmth alone provides a bit of relief for you, allowing you to momentarily catch your breath.

“Zu’té.” You hiss under your breath, surprised he’s even come in, much less laid a hand on you.

You let go of the marui stilt to swat away his hand with a loud smack. The reminder of you labouring in the presence of another man that isn’t him makes him wince. 

“Muntxate [wife].” Ralak husks quietly, using his thumbs to rub circles into your back. Your ears lift from your skull and perk up when you realise it’s your mate, back home from the excursion.

Tears overflow and spill down your cheeks. Tears of pain. Tears of exhaustion. Tears of relief. 

“Ralak.” You let out a nasally sob, unable to look at him just yet due to the contraction still rippling through you. You speak between your moans, voice cracking.

“You’re back. You’re here. It’s happening, lak. He’s coming. And I—I thought you’d miss it. I thought you weren’t coming back. I thought… I thought—”

“Alright, alright. I am right here with you, tanhì. Mawey, mawey [calm, calm].” He hums steadily, already reaching behind him for his kuru. “How long have you been in labour?”

“D-Don’t know.” Your breath catches in your throat and your knees begin to tremble. “Too l-long.” 

Ralak’s heart throbs in his chest at the thought of you enduring this on your own for that long. The contraction is finally subsiding, and you're eager to find relief in your mate. You exhale shakily and grip his wrist as you try to straighten your spine. 

“Easy.” Ralak is quick to help you to your feet, holding you by your hip and arm. “Can you stand?”

You nod your head as you slump back into him regardless. “It’s happening, ‘lak.” You wheeze, resting your head on his chest. Despite the slight sting, Ralak smiles, joyful to know his son will soon be born. 

“It is, my tanhì.” Ralak hums, swaying side to side with you against his body as he brings his glowing tendrils towards the end of your braid. He’s spent but he knows the exhaustion he feels is nothing in comparison to yours. “I am so sorry I have left you alone in this.” 

“‘ts not your fault, my love.” You murmur, lulling your head against his chest. “...not your fault.”

Though your contraction has passed, the pressure in your pelvis has a steady, constant groan vibrating in your throat. It’s a feeling that won’t let up, and the further you progress the more intense it gets. It feels like your body’s at its limit, unable to accommodate your babe any longer. 

“Mmmn—tsaheylu, please.” Your plea is drawn out and low, unaware that he’s already one step ahead of you. 

When he makes the bond, the pressure is instantly lightened but is quickly replaced with a sharp pain in your shoulder and back. He sucks in a sharp breath and grimaces from the sudden pain and pressure that flows into him.

You gasp and clutch your left shoulder, whipping your head around to look behind you. Immediately, you catch sight of his wound. 

Fresh blood spurts out between the ragged stitches and globbed over herbal concoction, dribbling down his chest and back in thin streams. 

“Shit.” You curse, ripping your queue away from him, abruptly severing the bond—causing the pressure to come back tenfold. “Fuck—you’re injured.” 

“I am fine.” Ralak insists, reaching for your kuru again.

“Tsaheylu will infect it.” You insist, keeping your kuru away from him. 

“Ke tare [it doesn’t matter].” He says sharply, catching his tone and softening it. “Allow me, please.” 

Ralak reaches for your kuru again, eager to make it up to you—to take the pain for whatever time you have left. But you shake your head firmly. 

The fact that making tsaheylu caused it to rupture and bleed, a gash that size will surely worsen with the influence of your labour. Ralak respects your wish, although he’s in disagreement with it. He’d never make the bond without your consent and he feels as if he’s already missed too much of your labour to continue the argument. 

“…what happened?” You ask shakily, terrified to know the answer. “Wh-What did they do to you?” You feel yourself begin to tear up.

Seeing him so hurt always made your heart heavy. 

Your question catches him off guard, bringing him back to the moment he saw his own karyu. He swallows, having trouble keeping his calm and figuring out what to say. He has no intention of keeping it from you, but truthfully it isn’t the right time to speak of such matters. Not when you’re nearing the peak of the birth of your firstborn.

“Not now. You are labouring.” Ralak says sternly yet gently, reshifting his focus and concern back to you. 

And if it weren’t for the unbearable heavy sensation in between your legs you would’ve protested. You nod lazily as your breath hitches repeatedly, your hand finding its way to the lowest part of your abdomen to press into it. Your lengthy groans start up again, you can feel your entire body begin to tense up.

“Another? So soon?” Ralak’s voice falters, concern now evident in his tone. He steadies himself behind you, pressing his hands into your lower back once more. 

“Pressure. ‘ts too much.” You pant, leaning forward and using your free hand on the marui stilt for support. 

“Pressure?” Ralak tries his best to understand what you mean. Thinking that he’s pressing too hard into your back, he eases up and apologises. You shake your head and quickly replace your hand onto the lowest part of your abdomen with his. 

“Pressure!” You yelp the word like a plea for help, hoping he’ll get it without you needing to explain. Talking is becoming more difficult with each passing contraction. When he does finally understand, his eyes widen and brow bones jump. 

“Ah—he is moving down, tanhì.” Ralak tries to speak calmly, sliding his other hand over your stomach. His fingers smooth over your skin, taking in its heat and supple texture. He then feels it tighten even more, contracting right under the pads of his digits.

“Tewti [whoa].” 

It’s the first he’s ever felt a contraction, despite being a mandated witness to numerous first breath rituals in the clan. He begins counting under his breath, trying to gauge your progression by determining how long they’re lasting. But before he can get into the double digits your low grumble turns into a high pitched cry. 

Ralaks ears immediately go flat, hearing a cry like that rip from your throat makes his heart tighten in his chest. He shuffles closer to you upon realising that you're curling over from the pain. Moving quickly, he supports your body weight with one hand to your belly and another over your chest. 

“Ralak!” You cry out, “Please! Do something!”

With that, Ralak’s hands slip back down to your lower abdomen, cupping your belly and gently pull upward. This always helped if the baby was sitting too low, relieving some of the heaviness and pressure on your bladder.

Instantaneously, the pressure relieves. Your cry dissipates into a loud sigh, your downturned lips flipping up into a small smile of relief. 

“Thank you—” Pop. “—ugh” Gush. 

You’re silent, but your face screws into a grimace as the pain rushes back in with a vengeance. You look down in a painful daze, feeling the trickle of liquid down your thighs and legs. Through blurred vision, you watch as a pool forms at your feet, as well as Ralaks. 

“Shit.” Ralak mutters under his breath, recognizing what’s just happened. 

His head whips around to the sound of the flap of the marui door. He looks behind him, met with the panicked, bulging eyes of Zu’té, who’s staring intently at the scene unfolding before him. He's just worked up enough courage to enter the room.

Zu’té finally makes eye contact with Ralak, and Ralak nudges his chin in the direction of the village, mouthing—‘Get a healer’. Zu’té nods and takes off at full tilt. 

“…fuck‘m sorry. My waters...” You mumble, fingers digging into his arms in attempts to keep you standing, to no avail. 

Your knees buckle beneath you, and you lose all ability to keep yourself on your feet. Ralak supports you, moving down with you rather than trying to keep you standing. He slowly and gently lowers you to the floor, away from the growing puddle. 

“What for? Your water breaking? No need to be.” Ralak chuckles breathily, trying to make it obvious that it’s no big deal—he’s unbothered by it.  

“Me-messed you up.” You grunt, breath straining as you lean all your weight back into him. 

“You did no such thing.” He reassures you through a quick breath, adjusting you into a more comfortable position.

You lay on top of him, shifting onto your side and off the sharp throb in your lower back. You clutch his bicep with one hand and keep the other snug under your bump. 

He’s more so in an awkward position than not, his back now against the base of the bed and his right leg propped up to keep you from rolling back. He has no issue staying put in this position if it means some sort of relief for you. 

But your groans only deepen, lengthening and ending with small grunts.

“You alright, mama?” He checks in on you through a whisper, knowing that things move quickly once the water breaks.

You nod your head, trying to be strong, but he can see right through it. And you know it. You sputter out a sob and shake your head, finally admitting the truth—finally facing reality.

“I know, I know, tìyawn. Almost there.”

Even without tsaheylu, he is able to tell how long you have left just based on your sounds and body language. With each little grunt he notices that your face shifts to a brighter shade of pink.

He takes note of your tail, and how it’s now tightly coiled, tucked to the base of your tailbone—out the way. Your shoulders are bowed and your stomach sits low, hard as a rock. 

“Oh!—Eywa, ple-ase.” You mumble a plea, eyes squeezing shut when you come to the height of your contraction. “Mmm’fuck—fuck.” 

“A little longer.” He places a firm, comforting kiss on the temple of your head. “It will soon be over.” 

You feel Ralak’s hand firmly patting your lower back, attempting to put the fire out. But now the pressure’s released, the pain is only more intense—spreading and morphing into a new feeling altogether. 

“Ralak—Ralak!” You panic, your head rolling side to side as you strive against this new sensation. 

“Right here with you.” He hums, pressing hard into your lower back with the ball of his palm. “What do you need?” 

You begin frantically tugging at your soaked loincloth, trying your hardest to get it off of you. Ralak quickly takes over, untethering the knot and slipping it off you.

“Need to—aahaa! I think he’s—haah—he’s—he’s coming!” You yell, unable to fight the new feeling. An urge you’ve never felt before. The urge to push. “Ralak—I’m scared!” 

“Listen to your body.” Your mate encourages you with a steady and calm voice. 

His gaze snaps down to witness your leg rising into the air and your hand hooking under the back of your knee. His hand cups over yours, helping you support the weight of your suspended leg. 

Ralak manoeuvres himself in a way that allows him to support you and see what’s happening. He gently tugs your leg back a little further, having a proper look. He can see just how swollen and tender the flesh between your legs is—ripe and ready. It’s time. 

“Muntxate [wife]. Bear down if you need to.” 

“I—I—urgh!” You cry out, finally giving into the urge to push, allowing your body to bear down in the way it’s been trying to. Holding your breath, you tuck your chin to your chest and sink your fingernails into Ralak’s bicep, pushing as best as you can in this position. 

“Good, good. Good push, tanhì.” His voice is hushed but steady as he watches in awe as your body flourishes. “Syeha si [breathe].”

As the urge subsides, you release your breath and gasp for air a few times. If he’s really coming, you don’t want it to be here. You had both discussed doing this in the comfort of your own lake. The lake in the cave, where your relationship with him had blossomed to begin with. 

“Not here.” You say out of breath, legs shaking terribly.

Ralak leans in closer to you, listening carefully to decipher your murmurs. You keep your eyes closed shut, unable to open them anyway. They feel as heavy as you do, weighed down with exhaustion and agony.

But as you feel your stomach tighten and the urge rush back in, you realise that time lessening. “Water—get me in the water, please!”

Ralak hesitates, scanning your body to see if moving you in this state is the right thing to do. He watches as you tense up in agony as you contract, and quickly the realisation dawns upon him, too. At this rate, the babe will be here at any moment.

And if your wishes are to give birth in the water, now is the time to fulfil them.

Ralak scoops you up into his firm clutch, rises to his feet, and rushes out the door. Taking his time down the steps, your grip around his neck tightens just as a groan rumbles in your chest. Your legs squirm in his grasp as they try to snap open. 

“Hurry! He’s coming!” You grunt, burying your face into the crease of his peck, biting down to fight the feeling. 

Ralak glances down at you a few times, brows gathered from the worry that plagues his heart. He’s holding you tight, so as not to let the wiggle of your body loosen his grip.

“Here.” He huffs out, nearing the entrance of the cave. 

Immediately immersing himself hip-deep into the water, he moves hastily, submerging you as he makes his way over to the ledge and helps you into position.

The ledge makes a smaller, more shallow pool in the lake, perfect for you to sit in with your back supported by the bank. 

Water is up to your chest, slushing and splashing against your neck as you desperately readjust yourself to get comfortable. Your head is perched on the bank of the lake, hands spread across to hold onto the rocky surface. Your toes grip the floor, rooting yourself to the ground to keep you stable, knees bobbing at the water's surface. 

“Fuck! Ralak!” You cry out, feeling your body act on its own accord.  

Ralak is already in front of you, one hand on your bump as the other slips between your thighs to feel your progression. All while he’s looking down at you with nothing but concern etched into his features, unsure of what more he can do for you without tsaheylu.

He witnesses your face turn red as you hold your breath again, using as much force as you can to push him out. 

Ralaks hand moves from your bump to cup your cheek, his fingernails raking away the streaks of sweaty hair plastered to your face and tucking them behind your ear. 

“Syeha si, tanhì [breathe].” He reminds you gently, exaggerating a breathing pattern you had rehearsed a few weeks ago, and you try to match his rhythm. 

But you’re stuttering and sobbing, unable to establish a pattern and push at the same time. Your back is on fire and it feels as if the baby isn’t moving any further down. 

The contraction finally ends with a loud wheeze and your head slumps back into the rocky bank. You shake your head as you struggle to open your heavy lidded eyes. 

Your vision is blurry and spotty. You glance down in a haze and lock eyes for a moment with the worried giant before you, and then you feel yet another contraction wash over you. They are on top of one another—back to back—with little to no break between them. 

“Fuck. Please. Please. Plea—” You weep weakly, eyes slamming shut as your chin makes contact with your chest, cutting off your pleas with a lengthy, guttural grunt. You push with what you have left, giving yourself a throbbing headache as a result. 

“Pushing so, so well.” Ralak praises you with a hushed voice, feeling something press against his fingers. 

As you strain, you feel the delirium set in. The panic of not knowing if you’re capable of doing this. Every inch of you more than ached, yet some parts of you have even gone numb from how long this has been going on.

You can barely get a proper breath in much less breathe the way you should when you’re pushing. You feel like your body may give out at any moment. 

“Keep going, y/n.” He encourages you, seeing your exhaustion and feeling you stop. 

“Ralak…lak.” You let out a sob and try to relax your body, but end up collapsing back into the rocky surface again. “‘m tired, lak.” You mumble shakily between laboured pants, “...want him out.” 

“I hear you.” Ralak tries to reassure you, now supporting both your trembling legs as they threaten to give out. “He will soon be out, tanhì. But you have to keep going.”

“No—oh, no, no.” You cry, tensing up from another agonising contraction. You didn’t think they could get any more painful. “No more. No more, please.”

“Come now, big push for me.” Ralak instructs softly, repositioning himself to help deliver his son. 

“Ugh—!” You scream, giving all you have left into this push. Beads of sweat roll down your temples at a concerning speed, and your face shifts to an even more vibrant shade of red. “Please! Please get him out of me!” 

“He’s coming out, tìyawn. Keep pushing, almost there. Almost there.” Ralaks voice is low and laced with panic, despite his greatest efforts to keep calm and collected.

This cycle repeats for some time, instilling worry into both you and Ralak. You’re having a difficult time, and it’s taxing on your body to keep this going.

Truthfully he can tell that you’re really struggling, and he’s getting a little more worried as time passes. But then he feels the baby press against his fingers and hope fills him once more. 

“That’s it. Push just like that, y/n.” 

“Fuck—” And just as last time, you collapse back into the bank, depleted with nothing left to give. You begin to think that maybe everything you’ve been hearing was right. 

Maybe you can’t do this. 

“I…I can’t.” You sputter defeated, letting your legs go limp either side of you.

“Mawey [calm]. You can. Your body is made for this.” He reaffirms for not only you but also himself, he’s too afraid to lose you. No, he can’t lose you, too. He’s experienced too much loss. 

“’s not comin’.” You shake your head lethargically, feeling faint. “He’s stuck.”

Hearing that makes his heart sink. Ronal’s words echo in his mind, putting him in a frantic state. He quickly composes himself, probing the tender flesh to help stretch it out. He feels something slimy and silken, and his ears perk up.

He’s right there. So close. 

“He’s not. I feel him, he is right there.” Ralak tries to keep calm for you, attempting to reassure you as he quickly thinks about the next best move.

Zu’té isn’t back with the healer and there's not much else he can do. He looks down at you, taking in just how uncomfortable you look as he tries to imagine just how much pain you’re in. With a position like this, no wonder your back hurts. His eyes widen. 

No wonder your progression has stalled. 

“Move with me. Easy.” Ralak croons, carefully tucking his arm under your back to sit you up slowly. He throws your limp arms around his neck, and brings you to your knees and then your feet—supporting your weight as you get there. 

“Lak, Lak!” You grimace and whimper as you try to work with your mate—your body is already so sore and weak that any movement is torturous. 

“Need to get you off your back.” Ralak huffs, holding you in position until you’ve adjusted. You hold on to him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck as you settle into a squat. “A few more pushes, mama.”  

“Haa—no, no.” You squeal in desperation, feeling his head descend even further down now that gravity has come into play.

Then your belly stiffens. 

You bite the flesh of your cheek until you taste blood and bury your face into the dip of his collarbone—refusing the urge to push. But the instinct overrides you completely, leaving you in a panicked and delirious state. 

“Take h-him out! Make the cut!”

“No, no cut. No cut.” Ralak utters a throaty whisper, pushing down into your lower back. “Bear down, muntxate [wife].” 

“Ple—ase.” Your broken plea comes out as a low grunt as you shake your head frantically, driving your dulled nails into your mate. “It hurts, it hurts!” 

“I know, ma’ y/n. But you must bear down, please.” His voice trembles, filled with worry, but his words are firm—non-negotiable. You continue to shake your head, fighting with what you have left, your laboured breathing deepening as you run out of strength to resist. 

Ralak’s worry quickly turns into pure panic. Panic that you’ve really given up. Panic that you really may not make it out of this. That…he’ll lose you. He knows what he must do, despite it being against your wishes.

He gives your kuru a quick stroke, his way of warning you. It sends a shiver through you, but the pain is so excruciating that you can’t resist this, too. 

Ralak quickly makes tsaheylu, bringing a brief moment of pure, instant relief, just enough to bring you out of your delirium. His wound reopens, burning and weeping. But not even that could prepare him for your pain. 

It feels like each vertebrae in his spine instantaneously shifts out of place. It is excruciating. And strange—that urge to push. He can feel it too. It’s like an itch deep under your skin. Irresistible and uncontrollable. 

“Push!” Ralak groans loudly, prompting you to bear down with whatever strength you can muster up.

You scream at the top of your lungs, achieving a frequency and volume so high it can be heard from the village. Ralak’s fingers quickly probe the tenderness between your legs to check your progress once more. Finally, he feels the baby’s head begin to emerge. 

“Perfect push, tanhì. Keep going, keep going.” Now he’s winded, flustered and speaking breathily. 

Your scream is cut off by your vulgar tongue, “Fuck! Fuck—it burns!” You cry out, feeling a bolt of white hot fire split you in two, making you jerk back. “It’s burning!” You sob, trying to wiggle away from the flame. 

“He’s crowning. His head, shit—” He huffs, realising that the babe is coming too quickly, not giving you enough time to adjust, “Stop pushing.” His fingers probe the taut skin in attempts to prevent you from possibly tearing, “Breathe him out. Just as we practised.”

Your fingers dig even deeper into him as your head snaps up to shoot him a deadly glare. Wasn’t he just demanding that you push? To ‘listen to your body’?

You take deep, intentional breaths, eyes flicking down to search the cloudy water as you try your hardest to resist. He can feel your frustration through tshayelu, he can hear your thoughts. 

“Syeha si, syeha si [Breathe, breathe]. Let yourself adjust. Let your body push for you.” Ralak tries to explain, using the bond to his advantage and using the bond to his advantage. 

‘I can’t do it.’ You think to him, unsure if you’re even doing it right.

“You can. You are. Just like that.” Ralak works with you, probing the tender skin once more as he feels the head emerge. “A little longer.”

But yet, you feel yourself giving in. 

“Can't. Help. It.” You whimper, your breath stuttering as it catches in your throat. Tears roll relentlessly down your cheeks. You need him out. 

Now. 

You drop to your knees and tuck your chin to your chest. “Haah!” Your breath finally releases, and a guttural, lengthy grunt follows after. 

Ralak feels you push — hard. He readies himself, steadying his stance as he traces his fingers around the circumference of his unborn’s head to help guide him out. 

He is, too, looking down into the murky water, trying his best to see what’s going on. All he can do is rely on his sense of touch and the feeling through the bond to help him. 

“Ngh—ugh!” You feel a pop between your legs and the pressure minutely releases. 

Just then Ralak feels the rest of your baby’s head emerge. He can feel the curls of his silken hair, and how they’re laid flat to his skull. Ralak nearly breaks down right there, but fights the array of emotions bombarding him all at once to recenter his focus back on you. 

“His head is out.” He croaks, supporting the babe's head with the palm of his hand. “Hair like yours.” 

Ralak gently unlatches your grip on his shoulder and guides your hand under the water and towards his. Aside from wanting you to feel what he’s feeling, he’s hoping that this will give you the strength to keep going.

You feel the sliminess first, and then the soft, velvety texture of your son's head. You weep, slumping your head into Ralak's chest as you focus on gathering as much energy during the small break from the contractions. 

It’s incredible to know that your body created this life. 

“Oh god…it’s him.” You barely whisper.

“You are so strong, you know that? Mighty.” Ralak hums, cupping the back of your head with his hand. You lift your head to look at him and he rests his forehead against yours, searching your eyes with his. “One more push for me, okay?” 

You nod your head, bottom lip curled over to touch your chin. His hand slips from your neck to your cheek, his thumb wiping away one tear of a thousand. The tightening of your stomach has you tensing up, gripping onto him for support. You groan and moan until the contraction reaches its peak, where you begin to grunt and push against the budding pressure.  

He steadies himself once more, quickly slipping his hand off your cheek back into the water. He holds your son's head with one hand, and hooks the fingers of his other hand under his son's left shoulder. It pops out with the help of his gentle tug, and you bear down even harder. 

“A little more.” He encourages you, waiting patiently to feel his son's right shoulder emerge. He feels the bridge of his shoulder and Ralak jumps into action, carefully guiding his son's shoulder out. “Perfect, there it is.” Ralak mumbles quickly, hyperfocused on ensuring a safe delivery. 

You whimper when the burning sensation comes back, shoving your forehead into his chest. It’s hard to breathe. Every fibre in your being has you wanting to hold your breath for more leverage to get him out. Your noises fade to little choked muffles, quick and uneven. 

“Breathe.” Ralak chokes out, feeling your burning lungs through tsaheylu. He immediately establishes a somewhat steady breathing pattern for you to sync into.

“Pwah!” You let out a shaky, harsh breath of air, panting as you try to sync with him. “Urgh—ah!” you groan as you push, surprised by how long this torturous contraction is lasting. 

“Please get him out of me, please, please.” You whisper into his chest.

“Shoulders are out, tanhì” Ralak huffs next to your ear, tenderly rubbing his cheek against your temple. 

“Catch him, Lak.” You wheeze, your legs shaking uncontrollably from carrying your weight for such a long time. He wants so badly to do the rest for you, now really sensing your weariness through the bond. But he couldn’t, all he could do was support you through every second of this. 

“I have him, muntxate [wife].” He whispers, lips pressed to your ear. “Last push.”

A hoarse, empty cry evades your trembling lips as you bear down a final time. Suddenly the pressure releases entirely, and you feel your son slip out of you and into Ralaks hands. You let out a loud moan of relief, immediately pulling away from Ralak’s chest to look down into the water. 

“He’s out. He’s here, tanhì. You did it, mama. You did it.” Ralaks cracked voice is full of relief. “He—he is so small.”

You fall back onto your behind, breaking tsaheylu with your mate. Your eyes search for your newborn but you can’t make anything out of the murkiness of the water.

You look up to witness tears fill Ralak’s eyes for the first time as he holds the baby underneath the water. Your back hits the rocky bank of the lake in solace knowing your son is in safe hands. 

Then Ralak grits his teeth and lets go.

“Lak. Ralak.” Your panicked, hoarse voice calls for him, but you’re too weak to get up. “Ho-Hold him, Ralak.” 

Ralak looks like he’s fighting his own instinct to scoop up his young and cradle him in his chest. And that’s because he is. It’s taking everything in him not to do just that, but he knows that this is the way. The right way. 

“Mawey [calm]. First breath.” Ralak gently reminds you of the Metkayina ritual. He knows he must do this, especially in the absence of the Tsahik. “Let him swim.” 

You watch intently as the water slowly clears, revealing the wiggle of your newborn's body. “Help him.” You plead with trembling lungs, having a hard time watching this unfold. 

Ralak stays close to his newborn, ready to jump into action in an instant. But the babe rises to the top all on his own—swimming directly from the womb. You burst into tears, chest swelling with pride and every emotion under the moon.

Nonetheless, Ralak taps his bum softly, his other hand hovering underneath his son's feet in the case he needs to intervene. This is the first moment where your son has made you both proud.

Your son breaks the water with his face, chubby cheeks and puckered lips. You hear the sound of his little, first breath — pwah. His eyes open as he looks around, catching sight of his father scooping him into his arms. 

“You did it, my little one.” Ralak whispers with a crack in his voice, shifting his gaze over to you. “You did it. I’m so proud of you.” He repeats in absolute shock and awe, and this time you know he’s talking to you, too. 

Ralak holds his son close to his chest and away from his weeping wound, using his body heat to keep him warm as he makes his way over to you. The babe wails when he catches your scent, squirming in his fathers arms as if he were trying to get to you on his own terms. 

“She is right here, son.” He whispers, bouncing him a bit as he places him in your arms, helping you hold him for the first time. “Hold his head.”

Your arms feel like jelly and they won’t stop shaking, but you’re eager to hold your newborn. Ralak tucks himself closely at your side, keeping a precautionary hand under your arm. Immediately, he calms, gurgling and cooing as he listens to the familiar and comforting thump of your heart. It’s all he’s heard in the past ten months. 

Teary eyed, you look down through blurred vision, taking in the sight of your son. Every feature. Every stripe. Every freckle. His dark turquoise skin, golden eyes, pointed pink ears. A tail like his father, but five fingered, like his mother. He is the perfect mix, the perfect balance. 

“You’re perfect.” You whisper, admiring his little coos and floppy, soft ears that lay flat against him. His head turns towards your bosom, puckered lips brushing against your top in search of your nipple. “Hungry? Hm?” You hum shakily. 

Ralak is quick to help you, helping you position him just right. Your son shakes his head as he tries to latch for the first time, and both you and Ralak watch quietly with wobbly smiles plastered on your faces.

With two fingers, Ralak presses down onto your breast, angling your nipple in a way that makes it easier for you and him. You can’t help the grimace on your face when he does latch and suckle, but it quickly turns into a smile as you watch him feed for the first time. 

“Rak’äni.” Ralak proudly announces the name of his first born son.

You look up at him, witnessing a tear or two roll down his cheek. You’d never seen this giant cry like this before. The past two days have been too much.

“Rak’äni.” You repeat with a smile, Ralaks eyes finally meeting yours. He leans in and meets your lips with his, kissing you tenderly. He lingers there forehead to forehead as he pulls away, allowing himself to be vulnerable—to soak in his emotions. 

“I love you. I see you, y/n. For life. And beyond.” Ralak sheds a few more tears as he speaks the words.

“Nìt’iluke [neverendingly; forever].” You say wearily, heavy lidded eyes struggling to stay open. 

Snap. 

Ralak hears the sound of a branch breaking underneath the weight of a person's foot. Ralak looks behind him, hand under the water clutching the dagger on his hip, ready to protect his family. He sees the silhouette of a woman standing at the opening of the cave, basket on her hip as the last rays of sun shine through her. 

The first eclipse is starting.

Is that how long this has gone on for?

His heart skips a beat as his eyes narrow to see who it is…to see if it’s how he suspects it may be. Did she really follow us?

He then sees a taller figure emerge behind her, then another, and another…and another. And soon he counts seven heads in total and it dawns on him.

It’s your family—and his.

“We have visitors, little one.” Ralak coos quietly at his baby, his thumb just barely gliding over his cheek. “Are you alright, mama?” His voice sounds muffled and distant, as if he were at the other side of the lake. “The healer is here.” 

“Tired...Hurts.” You mumble, letting your eyes fall shut.

You feel Ralak’s gentle touch as he tucks himself behind you, supporting you with his body. His arm is under yours, keeping the babe safely above water as he feeds. You can fully relax your body now, sinking into your mate’s pillowy chest. 

“Rest.” Ralak whispers. “I have you.”

“You won’t believe, brother. The tshahik is also in labour. And I couldn’t find you…I heard y/n scream and—oh…” Zu’té lowers his voice to a whisper, catching sight of the freshly born babe in your arms. “Tak. He’s here.” His voice falters even more as he nears his blood.

His only family outside of Ralak. He’s awestruck, taking in all the different features of a new kind as he feeds. The babe's skin resembles the depth of his mother, but the tone of his father. Stripes like an omaticaya. Tail like a Metkayina. Five-fingered.

Truthfully, the length of his stare has Ralak feeling a little uneasy and a bit protective. 

“Toto.” Ralak hasn’t called him that in years, “Meet your nephew—Rak’äni.” 

“Rak’äni.” Zu’té repeats through a whisper, keeping his distance from the babe. “Fyole [beyond perfection].” 

Ralak relaxes, smiling proudly. “He is.” 

Zu’té fumbles with a small satchel on his hip, taking something out of it in a haste. He hands Ralak something small, something delicate. It's weaved to perfection, with colours of the sunset.

"For him." Zu’té says in a hushed voice, unfolding the garment to show his brother. It's a hat, an entirely new concept to the Metkayina. Ralak looks at him, a little confused, eyes bouncing between the strangely shaped item and his brother. "For the child's head."

Ralak smiles, his furrowed brows relaxing when he understands. Zu’té raises his brows and gently nudges it closer to the babe in your arms. Ralak nods, watching as Zu’té slips it on his head as gently as he can.

"Toto, that is very kind—"

"Don't flatter yourself." Zu’té cuts his brother short, pulling back to see the finished result of his hard work. It fits perfectly. "I had plenty of time."

Zu’té steps back, giving you two some space.

A sudden splash of the water makes Ralak jolt in his skin, but he calms down once he realises that it’s the healer situating herself next to you so she can tend to you. He isn’t all here right now, either.

“You did well, sa’nu.” You recognize her voice and strain to open your eyes, vaguely seeing her features.

She was at all your lessons with Ronal. The only one who didn’t look at you like some sort of alien. The only one who treated you with respect.

“All on your own. You need to be strong for a little while longer, alright? This may hurt.”

She begins gently massaging your abdomen under the water—a step that is empirical for healing. You clench your jaw and squeeze your eyes shut, shoving your head back into Ralak, who is visibly trying to withhold his look of displeasure.

“I get that look quite a bit. It’ll be over soon, sempu.”

You look down with foggy vision and see the hat on your baby's head. Immediately, you know who made it. You turn your head, looking directly at Zu’té and smile, mouthing 'thank you'. Zu’té returns the smile with a slight nod, remaining silent.

A high-pitched, excited voice has both you and Ralak turning your heads to see your little sister. 

“Woah! Mama, look!” Tuk exclaims, tugging Neytiri by the hand to get a closer look. 

“Shh, Tuk. He is asleep.” Neytiri hushes her youngest, nuzzling her into her side. The others stay quiet as they approach, crouching down at the bank of the lake to look at their new family member. 

“I am so proud of you, my daughter. He looks like you.” Neytiri whispers, raking her fingers through your knotted hair.

You exhale a shaky breath and smile weakly, leaning into your mothers comforting touch.

Jake looks down at the suckling babe in your arm, eyes burning as they gloss over with tears. “You did it, babygirl.” 

Hearing your fathers words after so many years of feeling like a failure, you can’t help the sob you sputter out. 

“D-Daddy.” You cry shakily, breath hitching. “It was s-so h-hard.” 

“I know, baby. I know. But you did it. ” He coos at his own baby, rubbing your shoulder as he looks over to Ralak. “You both did.” He smiles with his son-in-law, cupping the back of his head with his other hand. 

Neteyam and Lo’ak wait patiently at the back, not wanting to crowd you. Neteyam is particularly worried for you, he’s been beating himself up for not checking on you when he knew deep in his gut that he should have.

Lo’ak is… nervous, despite his big talk about being the best uncle. Your parents pull back, allowing some space for you, Ralak and the healer. 

“Guys.” You sniffle, craning your neck to look at them. “C-Come see your nephew.” 

They approach cautiously and kneel down next to you and Ralak. Neteyam smiles, golden eyes quivering as he takes in his features. 

“It’s uncle teytey.” Neteyam takes his nephew's tiny hand, his thumb grazing over his five fingers. Then Neteyam looks at you, his expression going from bright to glum. “I’m sorry I didn’t check on you.”

You shake your head and smile, barely keeping your eyes open. “Don’t be.” 

“Y/n. I—” To your surprise, Lo’ak is speechless. “He is beautiful.” 

“Thank you, uncle Lo’ Lo’.” You smile with another sniffle, using that god-damned nickname he wouldn’t let up on.

Lo'ak returns the smile, hearing it fall from your quivering lips makes his heart full. You finally lean back against Ralak's chest, allowing your eyes to close, heavy and swollen from all your shed tears of joy and pain.

You feel the healer’s hands leave your stomach and make their way to your chest where she ensures the babe has latched properly. “Perfect latch. You are a natural, y/n.”

You smile wobbly at her words, feeling extra proud of yourself. 

“I will leave the medicines here, ensure she takes them on time.” She’s speaking to Ralak, who is also in a daze, gazing down at his son. “I will come and check on her tonight. Until then, she needs to rest. No heavy lifting.”

Ralak finally averts his attention to the healer, a smile on his lips as he nods. He’d never let you lift a finger, anyways.   

“Ralak, your wound is open.” Neytiri speaks with concern in her voice. 

The healer looks down to see his mangled laceration. “Eywa…Now, this will hurt.” Her eyes go wide and she immediately gets her things to sew him back up. Neteyam and Lo’ak look at the bleeding gash with wide eyes. Jake grimaces. 

“D-Does that hurt?” Tuk asks shyly, peeking out from behind Neytiri to see. 

Ralak shakes his head with a smile, too overjoyed with the safe delivery of his first born son to even notice anymore.

“No pain. Only happiness.” Ralak says softly, accent heavy on his tongue as he looks back down at his now stirring babe. 

[midnightcrw]

Would you write one where simon's wife is about to give birth and they're gonna give her an epidural but she's so scared and starts clinging to him?😢

Epidural

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x fem!reader

Summary: You're about to get an epidural, and fear seems to overtake you.

a/n: I'm so sorry this took so long. I just had no idea how to write this since I have never had an epidural or given birth myself. In the end, I decided to keep the process as non-detailed as possible because I didn't want to get anything wrong. But please correct me if I got something wrong. This is not my best work either, I'm really sorry.

In a dimly lit hospital room, the air was thick with tension as Simon stood by your side, his fingers intertwined with yours as you squeezed his hand every now and then out of fear.

From the moment the word 'epidural' left the mouth of one of the nurses, you were terrified. You were about to give birth to your first child, and just the thought of the needle made you feel nauseous.

"Simon, I don't know if I can do this," you whispered, almost breaking down in the middle of your sentence. Your heart was beating so fast that you were afraid it would stop at any moment, and the pain you were feeling didn't make it any easier.

Simon squeezed your hand and began to run his thumb over the back of your hand. "It's going to be okay, I promise," he kissed the top of your head as he continued, "I won't leave your side no matter what, break my hand if you have to. I wouldn't mind."

His serious tone made you chuckle at his words for a second, but even that was short-lived as you winced in pain.

"Si-" but before you could continue, one of the nurses approached you with a sympathetic smile on her face. "Mrs. Riley, it's time for the epidural," she said gently, and even though she sounded kind, you couldn't help the fear that grew as your grip on your husband's hand tightened.

Simon was sure you were going to break his bones today, but he would let you, as long as he could finally see you smile when this was over.

He leaned down to whisper in your ear, "You're going to be just fine, sweetheart. The doctors know what they're doing, I promise."

Hearing his words made you close your eyes for a second as you nodded, wanting it to be over as soon as possible before you scared yourself any more.

Simon slowly led you to the edge of the bed. The anesthesiologist spoke reassuringly, explaining each step of the epidural administration. And despite the explanations, you couldn't really concentrate, not even sure if it was because of the contractions you were feeling or because of your fear.

Your husband pulled up a chair next to the bed, his calming presence offering a sense of security. Your eyes locked with Simon's, silently pleading for reassurance as he brushed a strand of hair from your forehead, his voice calm and soft. "I'm right here, love. You're stronger than you think, and our little one will be here soon."

As the needle approached, your grip on Simon's hand tightened again, causing even Simon to whimper in pain. He was sure that at least one of his bones was broken now.

The nurse and anesthesiologist worked efficiently, their experienced hands moving with precision, while Simon continued to murmur words of encouragement, his focus solely on comforting you.

And as the epidural took effect, a wave of relief washed over your face. The tension in your body began to ease, and you nestled into Simon's embrace. The room seemed a lot less tense now as Simon gave you a kiss on the cheek.

In the hours that followed, your husband stood steadfastly by your side, never once leaving your side.

"I'm so sorry," you mumbled apologetically as you held your newborn in your arms.

"Don't apologize, dear. It doesn't even hurt," Simon said while he examined the poor state of his broken hand.

"Liar," you whispered.

He looked at you with narrowed eyes, his expression was enough to tell you that he denied what you had just said.

"I heard you whimper!"

"No, you didn't!"

[the-house-of-auditore-frye]

Mk1 intros with exotic dancer!reader

While reader has no bodily description, the vibe I'm going for is

Please enjoy these self indulgent intros! I have put more details about the reader insert under the intros but see how much you can piece together from the dialogue 😂 Also black text is the reader

Johnny * "How much for a dance, beautiful?" "For you and Kenshi? Always on the house..." * "Think about it, gorgeous! You and I? On the red carpet?! IN THAT RED OUTFIT OF YOURS!!" "I'm not sure I'd enjoy the public scrutiny..." * "You are an entertainer like me in Earthrealm?" "An entertainer of sorts... remind me to show you Ninja Mine when we get back home!" * "Many of your earthrealm friends seemed confused that I am bound to both you and Kenshi?" "Yeah... explaining polyrelationships on earth is a bit harder than Outworld..."

Kenshi * "It pains me terribly to know that you can't see me dance anymore..." "I can still see you in a sense. Besides love, I can feel your dancing much more acutely now." * "How many lucky men have seen the red outfit?" "Just you and Johnny..." * "We have already been threatened by the Empress and Princesses to not hurt you love..." "The bite marks you both left probably didn't help your case!" * "Does everyone in Outworld know about your relationship with me and Johnny?" "Unfortunately, court gossip spreads fast, more so regarding me or Mileena..."

Sindel * "Remember my dear, there will always be a place at court for you, should you want it." "Thank you Aunt Sindel!" * "All those times you took the blame for Mileena, I did know about it - thank you." "It helped Mileena's reputation in court to not always the troublemaker, it was necessary." * "Please do not blame Mileena so much for that one night: Tarkat is very easy to contract." "And yet dear, you lived your entire life on the streets and never contracted it?"

Mileena * "Based on the noises I heard from your bedchamber last night, I assume the earthrealmers are good at pleasuring?" "Mil, pleasure doesn't even BEGIN to describe the feeling..." * "Do you remember that celebration by the sea front when you thr-" "SHUSH - Mother does not know about that night..." * "How can you forgive me for blinding your lover?! I wouldn't blame you for hating me-" "You didn't have control! Kenshi knows that and I do too. Besides, how can you forgive me for letting you contract Tarkat?"

Kitana * "A little birdie told me that Raiden likes you..." "I believe that may have been exaggerated..." * "Do you promise you will come back to visit?" "Of course Kit, I'll be back before you know it!" * "Li Mei still does not approve of your choices-" "Believe me, that will not change any time soon."

Li Mei * "I am only looking out for the Princesses' well-being!" "By isolating them from their only friend outside the palace?" * "With your talent, you could have been a better umgadi than Tanya and yet you choose to be an entertainer?!" "I choose to live and enjoy life: not just survive it!" * "Despite what you believe, I am proud of your skill-" "Then maybe show it once in a while!"

Tanya * "Does anyone know about our training?" "No, and I'd prefer it to stay that way." * "Look after Mileena AND Kitana while I am gone - they are like sisters to me." "Of course - it is my honour and duty" * "Thank you for supporting me and Mileena." "I was allowed to be with who I love; Mileena deserves the same."

Raiden * "Do I make you uncomfortable Raiden?" "Uh... uncomfortable is not the word I would use..." * "I can put in a good word to Kitana for you~" "Thank you - that is very kind!" * "Did Johnny explain the relationship to you?" "I... understand the basic principle..."

Kung Lao * "What does Johnny have that I don't?!" "Better table manners for one." * "How much for a dance?" "I doubt you could afford it!" * "Is it true you were engaged to Reiko?!" "He and I grew up together, nothing more."

Bihan * "I will not associate with an outworld whore!" "You do understand that I am a dancer and not a prostitute? Right?" * "I will not be bewitched Sorceress!" "So you DO find me attractive!" * "I heard about the offer you made to Kuai Liang..." "Is that jealousy I hear in your voice?"

Kuai Liang * "I am here to offer you my services... in ANY capacity... or position... you wish..." "Are you still speaking of kombat?" * "I hear you have a red outfit-" "Unfortunately handsome, that is just for Johnny and Kenshi." * "Kombatant or dancer, if I wanted your services, how much-" "For you? On the house..."

Tomas * "Did you ever feel that you did not belong when you lived with the princesses?" "I was fortunate enough to have been friends with both Mileena and Kitana before Aunt Sindel took me in." * "If it puts you at ease, Madam Bo told me of Raiden's how-you-say 'crush' as well, not just yours..." "I can't believe she told you!" * "Kenshi? I am confused, Johnny said-" "This really is a bizarre concept to earthrealmers, isn't it?"

Ashrah * "I heard what your Kriss said about Mileena and Kitana - what does it say about me?" "It says that you are a better person than you let on and that you keep your kindness guarded?" * "You know, I could show you a few moves to impress Syzoth?..." "Oh... thank you?" * "Perhaps you could do me a favour and not tell anyone about the having-a-good-heart revelation from your sword - I have a reputation to keep up." "If that is what you wish."

Syzoth * "Ashrah is a lucky girl... that being said, my offer for a dance is still on the table..." "Oh... umm I appreciate the offer?" * "Ashrah says you are a better person than most people think." "I TOLD HER TO KEEP THAT A SECRET!" * "If it is any consolation, the people of Outworld considered me a freak as well." "It is comforting to know that someone so beautiful has shared my struggles."

General Shao * "I heard about your relationship with the earthrealmers!" "UGH who told you?!" * "You only survived through Royal nepotism!" "Are you still upset about me defeating you at the banquet?! * "Your attractiveness is ruined by your demeanour and personality." "Is this the great general finally admitting his attraction towards me?"

Reiko * "I heard the rumours, your relationship with the earthrealmers-" "Is none of your concern!" * "Had you not left the palace, we would have been engaged!" "There are plenty of reasons we would NOT have been engaged, Reiko." * "You were practically handed a position at court?!" "I chose my freedom Reiko - I did not want to spend the rest of my life as Li Mei's shadow the way you are with the general!"

Shang Tsung * "I want a dance - name your price..." "Easy - YOUR HEAD!" * "I hear you do more than dance for the earthrealmers..." "DOES EVERYONE KNOW ABOUT MY RELATIONSHIP?" * "Not so innocent, are you?" "Like you have any right to judge me!"

For this backstory description to make sense age wise, I'm going to use human years on the scale that Mileena and Kitana are in their 20s with the reader being the same age as Mileena. Backstory: reader is an orphan who grew up with Reiko - the two were just your average street urchins. At around age 7 when they were stealing from the market, reader saw two girls who were very lost and distraught. They asked her if she could show them the way back to the palace. Assuming they were joking, she ignored the request but asked them to hang out with her until their parents arrived. So the three girls and Reiko spent the rest of the day having fun. The next day, Li Mei found the four children and brought them back to the palace saying to Sindel that the reader and Reiko should receive punishment. However, Mileena and Kitana both vouched for them and their abilities in kombat. Shao, upon hearing this, decided to take Reiko under his wing. Meanwhile, Sindel was overjoyed to see that Mileena and Kitana made their first and only friend outside of the palace and decided to take reader in to be trained as an umgadi. So for the next few years, Li Mei trained reader in kombat and the ways of palace life but this did not stop reader and Mileena to sneak out of the palace at any given chance. By the time reader was 16, it was time for her to take the umgadi vows but reader shocked everyone by saying she wants to be a street performer instead of an umgadi. Sindel agreed with the condition that whenever reader is in Sun Do, she will stay at the palace with them. So the reader split her time between staying in Sun Do and travelling.

In terms of trying to match this up with MK1, following Reiko's defeat, Sindel is ready to yell at Li Mei for failing to secure the entertainment when Reader walks through the door offering to do so. The royal family immediately go to hug her leaving the earthrealmer gang confused. Liu Kang then explains the story to Raiden, Kung Lao and a smitten Johnny and Kenshi. The banquet takes place with the reader as the entertainer. When Raiden's toast is interrupted by Shao, reader tells him to back down with a fight ensuing with reader as the victor. She ends up becoming very fond of the earthrealmers and decides to spend time with them. The game then unfolds as usual and after the festival when the earthrealm players return, reader goes with them alongside Ashrah and Syzoth. By the end of the game, reader returns to earth with Johnny and Kenshi with the promise to return Outworld soon. (Also let's say everyone survives in this scenario because I love writing intros for Sindel).

@redlotus98 maybe it's time to make an MK branch of the red house universe...👀

Let me know if you want to see intros for characters talking about the reader

[historyslittlebish]

Hiii, I'd love to submit a request if possible? I love your writing so much :3

Been thinking about King Baldwin iv, and he strikes me as the type of man to absolutely *melt* at head scratches. I'm thinking he's in pain and so tired, but super wired from having to deal with everything that's thrown at him. His wifey comes along, scratches his head, and he is ~out~. (And who doesn't love em: titty pillow???) Hope my rambling makes sense!

-Anon <3

A/n: I barley wrote much but tysm! I really like this idea because as someone who is sensory sensitive in general, its a great feeling. I was told I had really fluffy hair by a girl in my class in 3rd grade and she would spend most of reading time playing with my hair and stuff so yeah. Anyways here's a mini one shot. I hope this is accurate to some degree because again I never saw the movie and I was doing this at 2am soooo

=======================================

Warning: insecurities, slight angst, comfort and fluff

Baldwin sighed as he entered his quarters. Parts of his body were sore and aching for a relief of sorts. His eyes wandered towards the bed and he saw your beautiful/handsome figure. Your soft H/C hair was being braided/brushed by your own hand. After you finished the last of your nighttime routine, you turned and with a soft smile, beckoned your husband to come sit on the bed with you.

Happily, Baldwin obliged and slowly trudged his way over to you and slowly sat down.

As he sat down his muscles felt weak and sore. He let out a pained groan before settling on the bed, relaxing himself.

"My love, are you in pain tonight?" You asked as your hands reached over and gently stroked his clothed arm. Baldwin sighed and looked over to you, his eyes felt wet and he took his only functioning hand and grasped your smaller one with it.

"How can you love a man like me? What do you see in me?" Baldwin asked. He felt his heart ache for a true answer.

"Because you are a great man, you were god's design, you are a kind and strong ruler." You replied as you gently hugged his arm and rested you face on his shoulder.

"Would you like me to soothe you before you sleep?" You asked and you slowly reached to take off the yarmulke from his head while at the same time, hesitantly, Baldwin reached to remove his iron mask.

You both sat in silence as you stared at your dear husband. You smiled and leaned over pressing a kiss to the crown of his head, then beckoning him to lie down on your lap.

He allowed himself to lean into your touch as rested on your thighs.

While gently stroking his deformed face, you began to massage his scalp and stroke his shoulders and back.

There was a deep rumble in Baldwin's chest, a sound of pleasure from whatever sensory he could feel. He slowly lifted himself and pushed you onto the bed and grabbed the blanket to cover the two of you.

He nuzzled himself onto your chest and let out a sigh on content.

You giggled as continued to stroke, massage, and scratch him. He thanked God he is blessed with a woman/man like you as his love...He also prayed you would be alright, never contracting the same, awful disease he has.

Edit: @bl00dyarak I fixed it so the fic can be applied to both female and male people (or nonbinary too because you can read it as such) :)

[the-trinket-witch]

TWST Signature Spell Effects on the Body

Because I'm a wordy, purple-prose kinda bish, I thought about what each Unique Magic might actually feel like on the body (at least the ones that affect other mages when cast). (SPOILERS FOR BOOKS 5 ONWARD)

(CW: Loss of motor function, scopophobia, senses being messed with, forceful sleep)

Off With Your Head:

The moment it slaps around your neck and shoulders, there's that deafening rush of blood to one's ears. If you and your magic were lightning, the collar just became your glass bottle. Outside of the momentary dulling of senses, one may  have a general difficulty breathing, either from the collar fitting itself or the lack of support without one's magic. Lightheadedness and an internal hollowness make the collar leave you feeling like after a flu.

Bet the Limit:

His magic literally amplifies and pushes back your magic, but to do that he has to rip control of it from you. Bet the Limit gives one that jerking tug on the shoulders, a jab of pain that burns into your neck almost. Sometimes if one resists or tries to wrench control back, they're left feeling like their shoulders have been dislocated. They haven't of course, but the feeling is still enough to keep one from moving them for a while.

Doodle Suit:

There's a metallic, fruity Sichuan peppercorn-like numbing on the senses before it's replaced with what he decides. Pretty straightforward.

(Legit tho: I think his is kinda scary in terms of utility. The possibilities o_o )

King's Roar:

Burning. King's roar doesn't have fire but there's still a dry burn. Rug or rope burn, an allergic reaction, or being splashed with hydrogen peroxide, it all makes the nerves curl away like shriveling plants. Skin on downwards begins flaking like baked mud, falling off into sand like chunks of slate.

Laugh With Me:

Laugh With Me at first feels like the pinch of nerves. But pulling against the bindings is like hyena teeth biting and yanking your muscle and bones; you're not in control. That tugging hurts much less, more of a firm mouthing on your body in whatever direction he wants.

It's A Deal:

Much like his flattering words, his magic leaves one feeling glittery. But there's a cold tentacle-like grip on the heart for a quick moment; a reminder of what lies in the undertow. It's not a memorable sensation, but memorable enough to know what happens when it returns upon failing to fulfill your end of a contract. The resulting Anemone doesn't feel like much until one touches it, like a large zit.)

Shock the Heart:

The sudden wash over you feels like the splash of cold water after getting dumped out of a boat. Pharyngeal jaws scrape and tug on your tongue to reel you in, truth dripping off of you like seawater. 

(Truth is a lot of times subjective so why nerf it further? HC he can use it multiple times but lies cause it works on those unaware)

Oasis Maker:

Rain that's always the perfect refreshing temperature. Never frigid but never feeling hot. A relaxing shower of jasmine and chai, without the stifling steam

Snake Whisper:

A burning cobra bite to the skull. It's venom sears every wrinkle in the brain as you feel yourself get pulled along by the collar of proverbial tail coiled around your neck. Resistance feels like hot sand filling your brain cavity. Eventually the oppressive weight of said sand makes one submit. 

Sleep Kiss:

 Sleep Kiss seems pretty straightforward. It probably feels like sitting in a soundproof glass box, with cold air filtered in. Every chilly inhale acts like anesthesia, or the tug of exhaustion by hypothermia.

Fae of Maleficence:

His 'Blessing' feels like being laid into a patch of semi-prickly twigs; a dragon's nest or roost. It hurts slightly, but the diligence is paid to lay you gently in so they don't prick. Eventually you can somewhat relax, but adjusting or moving reminds one of the thorny poking all around you. It just becomes preferable to sit still, rather than try waking or even attempt at getting comfortable.

Meet in a Dream:

Many mistake Silver to have soft hair, but the only downy lightness about him, I think, is Meet in a Dream. Whatever sensations one feels when dreaming of flying, that fills you to buoyancy as he leads you along the Dream Corridor.

[thesparklingwriter]

a world of our own

“At least allow me to wake up properly first.”

tags: established relationship, fem!reader, fluff, reincarnation, zhongli is napping!!!!! how strange!!!!!

masterlist | ao3 link | taglist | next

The god of contracts is a man of routine. There is a correct time for him to eat, a correct time for him to sleep, and it has been this way for years. For centuries at a time, he indulges himself in the comfort of consistency and routine. If you asked him about it, he would tell you that there’s a lot to be said for discipline, especially when its self imposed. But the truth of it is entirely different.

The routine distracts him from the fact that you are not around and he relishes in the comfort that comes from it. He can reminisce about you and the time you had together, while he goes about his day, without getting paralysed by the thoughts.

When you come back to him, however, after years of him waiting for you to be reincarnated, the routine seems to change. Instead of him heading to bed immediately as the clock strikes ten, you might find him waiting a little longer so that he can to drag you to bed. And even if, by a stroke of luck, you both manage to be in bed by ten, he can never resist asking you about your day and listening to you recount it in detail. Sure, he might wake up at seven in the morning every day without fail, but he often finds himself smiling at you as you sleep, and before he knows it, time has run away from him, and you’re waking up and bringing him along with your morning routine.

You would never truly know the extent of the routines Zhongli has stored in his head, and he makes sure of that, because he would never want you to change the way you live to humour him. Maybe he finds eating dinner at nine pm strange, but he’ll ignore it for you.

But when you’re out running errands on a weekend and Zhongli finds himself in a empty house, he might find himself instinctively heading to kitchen for his four o clock tea, or tempted to pick up a book as six pm draws near.

“Zhongli?” You call out, pulling the door shut with your foot. “I got the lea leaves you said we were out of,” when you don’t hear a response, you assume he’s in his study, or perhaps in the garden, so you set to putting your purchases away. But it’s strange—Zhongli always notices when you return home. He almost always comes to find you immediately. So the silence is strange. You go into your room to change, and then pass by the living room on your way to his study, and find him sat on his armchair with a book on his lap.

“There you are,” You smile, leaning over the back of the chair and kissing the top of his head softly. It takes you a second to realise that he’s not ignoring you because he’s reading.

He’s napping.

The thought makes you laugh. Never in the years you’ve been married to him have you ever caught your husband mid nap, and even though the sight is strange, it also makes sense. His posture remains as perfect as it when he’s awake, and his head doesn't even droop slightly as he breathes in and out slowly.

You pause. What do you do in this situation? You circle around the chair to face him, laughing quietly at the somewhat stern expression that graces his sleeping face. 

“Deus Auri,” you say quietly in a teasing voice. “What would the people of Liyue think if they saw you now, hmm?”

You gently cradle his face in your hand and decide that if you don’t convince him to lie down, he’ll wake up in pain somewhere.

“Come on, up you get,” you say softly, gently tugging at his hands. He opens his eyes ever so slightly, smiling when he gets a glimpse of you.

“You’ve returned,” he says.

“I have.” you reply, and he smiles a little more. “Come.”

Zhongli clears his throat as you take his book off his lap and rises to his feet. Of course, you would never truly receive the pleasure of having him lean on you even slightly, for despite his sleepy disposition, he thinks it would be rude of him to expect that of you.

“Where are we going, beloved?” He asks. His voice betrays him, the slightest edge of sleepiness audible in the way he ever so slightly slurs the end of his words.

“I’m taking you to bed.” You say simply.

“At least allow me to wake up properly first.”

You stare slack jawed at Zhongli, surprised that even in his half asleep state he can find the energy to make such jokes. He stares back at you, a devious glint in his eyes.

“That’s not necessary.” You laugh, opening the door to your shared room and ushering him in. “If you’re going to sleep, for the sake of your neck, please lie down first.”

“I had no intentions of sleeping originally,” Zhongli replies, humouring the way you fuss and fret over him and tuck him into bed, muttering questions about how an archon, someone who was entrusted to take care of a whole nation, could not take care of himself. For a brief second he thinks this is hyperbole on your part, but says nothing.

“Whether you had intentions of sleeping or not, my point still stands.” You kiss his forehead softly, and he uses the action to take your hand.

“You’re not staying.”

“I’m not. I—”

“Stay.” And maybe if your husband didn’t have such a hold on you, you might have told him that you had plans for the rest of your evening, or that you wanted to shower. You might have declined and told him to get the rest he clearly needed. But when he looks at you with those deep amber eyes, eyes you’ve stared into a thousand times yet could never get tired of, you cave.

“Ten minutes. And then I’m going back to the other things I need to do.” You reply, avoiding his gaze.

“Ten minutes,” Zhongli concedes, pulling back the covers and allowing you to pull him into your arms. His daily routine has already been thrown off for the day, so what’s ten more minutes when it’s with the person he loves?

© 2023, thesparklingwriter. please do not copy, edit, repost, or translate.

notes: hi drops this leaves again, i spent so long trying to think about how zhongli falls asleep and i've decided he doesn't drift off he just... BOOM falls asleep and he wakes up in the same way. i also dont think he'd be a napper but i think his body would get used to having a solid 8 hours of sleep so if that gets disrupted his body automatically try to get the time back somehow out of habit but basically this means no sleepy zhongli. maybe if he was ill. maybe if he was dying. maybe i will test my theory. how far would i go to test this theory? idk i feel like bringing chaos this year

taglist: @thelonelyarchon @aixaingela @medusuu

[dododan]

Thoughts about Alastor after the episode "Hello, Rosie"

Perhaps first such a small summary for those who haven't read my previous posts about Alastor.

Alastor's deal with someone has worked out. Officially we don't know with whom, but my theory is that it is Lilith.

Alastor is obliged by the contract probably to help/protect Charlie. His intentions are not clear, and he harbours many secrets.

He is not fond of Lucifer. Theories are that he either sees him as a threat to Charlie's hotel and dreams, or he is redirecting negative emotions about his own father and how Lucifer treated Charlie onto him.

Alastor enjoys being in the company of women and probably likes/appreciates Charlie. Perhaps he sees himself as her mentor.

His help, although chaotic and initially incomprehensible seems to be having an effect and actually helping the hotel and Charlie.

Alastor has a weakness for jazz and alcohol, but we don't see him ever drinking alcohol in the series.

His enemy is Vox, but he is more annoyed by Lucifer (probably because he is stronger than him).

Alastor doesn't like to lose or be wrong.

Here you have a link to previous thoughts if you are curious.

Alastor’s true motivations? - Why is he helping Charlie?

Dad beat Dad - Alastor, what the hell are you doing?

Traditionally, there are loads of spoilers here!

From the outset, Alastor seems interested/intrigued by Charlie sitting in the room and spinning another plan. Clearly he saw an opportunity in. Charlie was alone, so he could talk to her in peace. A plan was already forming in his head.

On Instagram, one girl made a fair analysis of Alastor's facial expressions. What expression on his face signifies what emotion. Which proved to be very helpful in understanding him! Here you have ig: @/sasha_draws.bg She did a really great job! But back to Alastor.

When Alastor feels some negative emotion, lines/wrinkles appear under his eyes. Which is true when you pay attention to the previous episodes, but in this 'Hello, Rosie' it is particularly noticeable.

For most of the time in this episode, Alastor seemed concerned to me.

When Alastor was talking to Charlie I had the impression that he was provoking her. He made Charlie painfully aware of how badly her plans had failed, which seems cruel. Initially this could be understood as simply an opportunity to take advantage of Charlie and make a deal, but I think this is just an added benefit. Alastor is bound by his contract to the hotel and Charlie, so he can't leave her. But Alastor has besides made Charlie realise that she can't idly brood on the bed because she doesn't have that luxury. Her friends were waiting for a plan, they were waiting for Charlie.

Charlie gave up at that point, and Alastor made her realise that there was still a chance to make things right somehow. He exasperated her, and showed her that she couldn't give up - in a rather cruel way but still, it's not always kind words or words of support that help you up.

Sometimes the painful realisation of the truth is the best motivator to undertake change.

For a moment, Alastor seemed annoyed that Charlie thought she had him figured out because she smiles all the time. He made her realise that the opposite is true.

A smile can be a weapon on many fronts. You could say that he gave Charlie some cue about his own behaviour. His lecture about smiling shows a lot about him.

Alastor hides a lot - his emotions, motivations or goals. He revealed to Charlie that he himself puts on a mask. The smile gives Alastor a sense of control.

The question is, isn't Alastor also lying to himself in this way?

He is creating himself as a cruel overlord, a person without a conscience who inflicts suffering on others for fun. It makes me wonder if he hasn't started to believe himself in the character he wants to pretend to be?

Nevertheless, no matter how good Alastor's goals may be attributed to him, or that his actions have a good effect on the hotel and Charlie, he still made a deal with her. He was aware that Charlie would not give up her soul to him and would not do anything against herself. Their deal is that Charlie is to help him like friend to friend when he needs it without hurting anyone, and he will give her information. Quite a specific arrangement and very narrow. To me their deal is a bit of a lifeline for Alastor when he finds himself trapped by his own contract.

[As an aside, I've noticed that a lot of people think that the stitches appearing on Alastor's lips are a sign that he can't talk about his deal. I doubt this because of the design of his character. Alastor was shown at many points to be dealing with voodoo or somehow connected to it. This is indicated by the green symbols that appear when he uses his powers, and the stitching that appears on his mouth probably refers to the very design of the voodoo dolls, which also had their mouths stitched in this way. Ironically in my opinion, voodoo is generally good magic, focusing on healing or helping, which doesn't really fit Alastor. Unless one considers the distinction between white and black magic as it is known in New Orleans. But I also point out that I'm not an expert, but I'm just partly familiar with the subject of voodoo and just wanted to show a reference to Alastor's appearance here].

I think Alastor's worry or uncertainty is most evident when he leads Charlie to Rossie. You can see the look on his face and those wrinkles under his eyes. This could be interpreted as:

he's upset that the angels are about to exterminate in the hotel and the only person who can oppose it is preoccupied with his love problems rather than more important matters.

He is upset/worried that he realises he won't be able to help Charlie this time, so he leads her to the only person who is more knowledgeable about love than him: Rossie.

He is nervous because he sees that he might fail if the hotel is destroyed, and that this might somehow breach his contract.

Alastor and Rossie seem to have a very intimate relationship, which was implied in the episode " Scrambled Eggs" when they were at the Overlords meeting. Now we have confirmation that they are very close friends. Rossie can afford a lot in Alastor's company and he allows her to do so. It also seemed to me that when he met Rossie he relaxed a bit, as the wrinkles under his eyes disappeared for a few scenes.

All in all, I'm not surprised that Alastor and Rossie are friends.

Rossie is the opposite of Alastor in a way. She seems transparent in her feelings and genuinely cares about her cannibals. But she also has the strength and power to allow herself to do so. Alastor, on the other hand, plays and hides emotions all the time, and gains power through fear. Despite this, he gets along very well with Rossie, which may mean he's not quite what he makes himself out to be.

I also think that Rossie's words about it being actions that show true nature and feelings may apply to Alastor and his role in season two in the future. But we can already see this now, for example, in the fact that his duet with Lucifer, where Alastor sang that he wanted to replace Charlie's father, ultimately led to a reconciliation between daughter and father which Alastor seemed to be happy with.

We also have it made clear that Alastor is asexual.

Rossie commented that Alastor could learn manners from Charlie. It is possible that what is meant is that when someone annoys Alastor, he does not mince his words. He makes his opinion clear - Susan is a perfect example of this.

Alastor and Rossie really seem close to each other, such as when they look at each other when Charlie panics, or how they dance with each other or their negativity towards Susan. Additionally, Alastor must have had a close business relationship with Rossie since she had an assignment for him and when she said that he never let her down. I got the impression that this gave him considerable satisfaction. Plus it helped the image he wanted to create for Charlie - that he was reliable.

Alastor also seems to put his faith in Charlie after all. Rather than believing in her plan of salvation for sinners, he believes more in the girl's ability to draw crowds and motivate people to action other than through fear or deals. It is hard to say whether he admires this trait of Charlie's, but he certainly appreciates her for it.

Alastor supported Charlie during her song when she had to convince the cannibals to fight - either by giving her the microphone or showing her a thumbs up. I further related that he was slightly worried/nervous, but also pleased after seeing his actions bear fruit.

Alastor also made it clear to Rossie that he valued Charlie and expected nothing less from her than to thrill the crowds. But the important thing is that he referred to her as the Princess of Hell, not Charlie. Alastor has made it clear for the first time that he wants to fulfil Charlie's potential, this shows that despite the faith he has in her, he still only sees her as the Princess of Hell and not Charlie as someone who is more than just a princess.

A break for now, as it's quite late at my place, so expect the rest of the analysis tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow at the furthest.

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Aiden/Lambert ficlet based on some gorgeous art by @elmonstro (check out the rest of their stuff too. It's all absolutely amazing!!😍)

Lambert has a bad time with toxicity after a job. Lucky (and unexpectedly) for him he doesn't have to handle it alone this time.

C/W implied sexual content under the cut.

Lambert stumbled his way back through the trees, barely aware of where exactly he was placing his feet. He’d managed to ignore for as long as it took him to collect payment and leave that little piss water town to his back, dragging the head of the leshen behind him as his skin started growing tighter and his hand started feeling like a detached entity, refusing to co-operate in dropping it in the dirt after the Alderman had basically ordered that he take it and dispose of it if he wished to be given anything.

Now that he was a safe distance away there was no denying the toxicity had him firmly in its grip. He swore he could almost feel the poison pulsating under his skin in time with his heartbeat as the too sharp, too bright colours of the setting sun started to swim together at the edges of his vision and the pain behind his eyes grew stronger as every sound felt like someone striking his skull with a dull axe. Even his sense of smell was betraying him. Each inhale stinging his sinuses as he tried to focus on finding his way back to his camp where he could curl up into a pathetic little ball as the haze descended again and he waited out the need to either fuck or fight (his body wasn’t picky about which) in privacy if not in comfort; hardly noticing the smell of spices growing stronger as he stumbled into the small clearing he’d been calling home for the last couple of days. What was another note in the current cacophony?

Lambert whimpered as he tried to bury his face deeper into the soft fabric as he felt the throbbing in his head finally subside; stiffening instantly when he realised the fabric in question appeared to be the shirt of whoever’s lap he was currently in.

“Shhhh. Easy Pup. S’just me.” A hand ran through his hair, the same hand he was sure had held him close whilst that voice murmured something in his ear. He tilted his head slightly to peer about with one eye warily. Night had fallen, the clearing illuminated only by the feeble light of the crescent moon with Lambert not having had the wherewithal to light a fire and his unexpected company also being unable, pinned as they were between Lambert’s bulk and the tree they were sat against.

“A-Aid’n?” He slurred, tongue feeling like a lead weight in his mouth.

“One and only. You back with me?”

Lambert grunted an affirmative, moving to lift his head up further before thinking better of it and letting it drop back onto the others shoulder as the world started spinning again, wordlessly nosing at Aiden’s collar.

“Easy there.” Aiden cooed, “Dunno what the fuck you took, but you’ve been on the comedown for awhile. Take your time.”

“Wha’ happened? Y’not supposed t’be here.”

Lambert felt Aiden purposefully stifle his laughter so he didn’t jostle him too much, “Call it luck. Was passing through and recognised your scent all over this place. Figured you were the one who’d beaten me to that contract so I thought I’d surprise you. Good thing I did, you could barely walk when you came crashing through the trees with a leshen head and all the grace of a drunk boar.”

Lambert growled half-heartedly at the comparison, “Then what?”

He felt Aiden shift underneath him, “Well, after I convinced you to drop the fucking head you had the bright idea of driving your swords into the thing – was almost like you were making sure it was actually dead - before you more or less collapsed onto me and wouldn’t let go. Should’ve known you’d be a clingy fucker when you’re in the grips. After that you sort of, well, how much exactly do you remember?”

Lambert tried to recall the sensations: Fabric under his hands as he held onto something or rather someone, his fingers gripping onto them hard, the smell of spices invading his nose as he nipped at warm skin, lips pressing brief kisses to his hairline and face, a voice whispering as gentle fingers pet him whilst another hand moved to rest on the small of his back as a familiar pressure built between his legs…

“That’s it, take what you need Lam. Shhhh, you’re alright. I’m here, I’ve got you.”

For the first time, he became aware of the uncomfortable stickiness at the front of his trousers, the exact position he and Aiden were in alongside the muted scent of spend. He let out a pained whine before hiding his face again. He’d rutted against Aiden’s leg like a fucking, Gods-damn dog.

“Lambert?” Aiden nudged the other in concern over the non-answer, “What is it, what do you need?”

“The ground to swallow me up.” He snarled into the crook of Aiden’s neck before standing, not meeting the others eye, “M’sorry.”

“For what?”

Lambert snarled low in his throat, “Don’t make me fucking say it, you bastard.”

“Lambert.” Aiden said gently, also rising to his feet, “It’s fine.”

“Is it?! For fucks sake Aiden, what were you thinking?! I could have hurt you. As it is, I practically-“

“Don’t.” The unexpected sternness in the others voice made Lambert’s eyes flick up to meet his on reflex, even if the other hadn’t grabbed him by the chin so he couldn’t look anywhere else. Aiden’s eyes flashing dangerously as they caught the moonlight, “Don’t even finish that thought. You didn’t take anything I wasn’t willing to give you; and you think I haven’t been in a similar situation too many times to count, that I don’t know how much it fucking hurts when it has nowhere to go? If I can ever do anything to make that easier, I will.”

“So you’re happy to just let toxic Witchers use you as a rutting post?”

“Only the ones I’m fond of.” Aiden said with a wink before kissing the end of Lambert’s nose, causing the Wolf’s jaw to slacken in surprise.

“Now, how about you go get yourself cleaned up while I see about getting some food started.”

Lambert nodded dumbly, grabbing his pack with the intention of heading to the little stream just beyond the clearing.

“…Thanks, Aiden.”

Aiden waved him off, from where he was placing a bunch of kindling in the small fire pit, “Don’t mention it, Pup. Although-” he cast igni, throwing Lambert a shit eating grin as the flames caught, “If you ever want to try it without a shit-tonne of potions in your system, I wouldn’t be opposed.”

Lambert hurried through the trees, eyes firmly on the forest floor before the Cat could see his reaction to that suggestion.

[cripplecharacters]

Hi! I am working on a story where one of the three protagonist has a burn scar. This character has from the eye to half their right cheek of a burn; this happened around 9 years ago (the character was 10.)

I am working on historical-fantasy setting, I know you guys are not historians but I was hoping you could help me out with ideas.

In my story, there is a few chapters where the characters go to a snowy mountain for a couple of days, and there are temperatures ranging from 20ºF to 10ºF with snow and harsh wind, is there any protection/possible cream needed for the face and the eye for that situation?

Also, around 10% of the story has fights that include armour (including a helmet to protect the face and the head,) would a character with that type of burn may need a special helmet?

Just to clarify, the character for most of the story doesn't have any mask or anything covering their face, except in the moments of battle where every other character is also using a helmet and armour.

Not sure if there is anything potentially problematic in this, but the character got that injury due to a baby dragon of the family accidentally burning his face (this is a society where dragons are like animals and common in the house.) Because it happened so many years ago there isn't any angst feeling or people in his community commenting about, except in a scene where the protagonists are talking about traumatic things and this character mentioned that they remember when it happened his parents were afraid he was not going to make it, not realizing he was hearing it.

There are other background characters with burns, scars and stumps due to the nature of this world, but I am concentrating in this protagonist right now.

Hi!

For weather this cold, your character would need a LOT of moisturizing creams. Possibly a comical amount. They would help to protect the skin from both the wind and cold. Burn scars don't have the natural oils, so his skin would be very dry normally, let alone during the winter. Even in normal temperatures, it's recommended to apply moisture multiple times a day. If something like sunscreen is available to your character, he would use it too (and often). Burns are sensitive to the sun, and some people use it even when it's cloudy. During the winter it's also commonly used because the snow reflects it. (As you said, I'm very much not a historian and I don't know what would work as non-modern equivalents... I assume that shea butter or olive oils could be on the table here? Certainly better than nothing. Or even just Magical Herb Mixture, if it's fantasy.)

As for the eye protection, I would say that most people in 20ºF to 10ºF (-6ºC to -12ºC) would need it, especially if it's both snowing and windy lol. I have experienced those temperatures and it can be hard to see even without extremely sensitive skin/eyes. But generally yes, harsh wind could be actively painful to someone with a burn scar. If it's too hard on him, he could wear some very loose cloth to cover it (prime example of a scenario where a face covering makes medical and just logical sense). It shouldn't be tight; maybe just a large hood or veil that would still be away from that part of their face.

Note: it could also not be painful at all. Burns come with nerve damage, and sometimes nerves make non-painful stimuli hurt really bad, and sometimes they make it so a person doesn't feel pain when they should. If your character is the second, they would bear it better at the time but still have all the other issues - skin breakdown, contraction, cracking, itching.

Not sure what other kind of eye protection would be available, but even regular glasses would help with the "not getting blasted with wind and snow" part. Make sure that with the protection he wears, it doesn't touch the scar directly. That can be extremely painful and cause skin to break in that kind of environment, especially if he's not a regular at the Snowy Mountain. If they are, they will handle it much better - scars get more or less desensitized with repetitive exposure.

For a helmet, I think having it padded from the inside would be a good idea. Preferably with something relatively smooth (maybe cloth or fur?) so that it doesn't scratch the burn. Potentially something to "stabilize" it (maybe their helmet could be custom-made for their exact head size?) so that it doesn't hit his scar over and over too if it's too large. I appreciate that others characters wear helmets too, and that he does for only a minor part of the story :-) (smile emoji))

The backstory scenario sounds fine to me as well! House pet trying to play and causing an injury is definitely a thing when it comes to facial differences haha. I can imagine that it would be even more common if the pet in question is a dragon and not a regular dog.

Having multiple burn survivors in a world with fire-breathing creatures that live in human homes is a nice element of worldbuilding :) (smile emoji)! I think that if this kind of thing happens often, then some of the resources I mentioned (moisturizes, sunblock) would be more readily available for your main character and people in similar sets of circumstances.

Thank you for your ask, I hope it helped a bit!

Mod Sasza

[rxmqnova]

Hii! If your still taking request i might’ve have something for you, only if you would like to make it, i just love your stories so much, and click on it when i see you have posted!!! ( it’s a Wanda x daughter!newborn y/n reader😅 kinda something)

Anyway, the storie i have thought off, was maybe that Wanda was pregnant and was about to give birth, (she’s in her late 9 month of pregnancy) when the Avengers came to rescue them, she’s in a bit of distress when they came, and feels a contraction or something, (maybe this was after they first met and she used her powers on them) the others wouldn’t help her, even tho Nat got most hit, she would help her and demand the others to help or something, and she ends up in so much pain before they reach the compound ? A little chaotic with some fluff at the end?😅

Hope this make sense, just an idea😅

Merry Christmas!

Little miracle

Y/N: newborn ——————————————————

NO ONE'S POV "Wanda, are you sure you want to do this?" Pietro sighs, worry in his eyes as he's looking at his sister and hoping she'll change her mind.

"He has to pay for what he did to our parents, Pietro" Wanda says seriously, preparing herself for meeting the Avengers once again.

The twins and the Avengers have already had one encounter and it wasn't nice at all. The original plan of the Avengers was to take down another hydra base, but the twins showed up and made some damage on them.

The team hasn't given up though. Steve is convinced that the young siblings need help, so that's why the team is headed to the abandoned place Wanda and Pietro are hiding at.

Wanda knows though and she's determined to destroy them… specially Tony Stark as the twins blame him for their parents' death. What keeps Pietro worried is that his sister is in her last month of pregnancy. He'll soon become an uncle, but another fight with the Avengers definitely isn't good for the baby.

"They're here" Wanda announces, her nervousness becoming bigger and bigger.

She won't admit it to her brother, but she is nervous and stressed that something might go wrong and her baby would get hurt. Her stubborn self just has to avenge her parents though.

As soon as the Avengers are standing in front of them, the twins are ready to attack, a red magic ball formed in both Wanda's hands… So the fight starts, Pietro using his superspeed while Wanda's using her mind-reading abilities, getting into their minds and showing them their worst fears or memories. Though suddenly something just doesn't feel right. A sudden pain makes Wanda let out a groan.

"Wanda?" Pietro looks over at his sister concerned, immediately making his way over to her.

"I'm good, it was just- ahhh" Another contraction interrupts Wanda's sentence, making her immediately put her hand under her stomach.

"Wanda" Pietro wraps his arm around his sister, not knowing what to do at all while the Avengers are either deep in their thoughts or watching the siblings confused.

"It's nothing, it's no- oh my god" Wanda groans, digging her nails into her brother's arm as another contraction hits, making him hiss in pain. "My water just broke! Do something, Pietro!" She raises her voice, nearly dropping down to her knees if Pietro wouldn't hold her.

"So, hmm… Are we fighting or not?" Tony asks, interrupting this uncomfortable moment.

"I can't do this, Pietro. I can't" Wanda whispers, panicking as her contractions are picking up on speed.

As Wanda lets out another loud groan, Natasha's up on her feet again, shaking her head to get rid off the horrible memory Wanda made her see.

"She's giving birth" Natasha say, slowly making her way over to the twins with her arms up to show them she's there to help.

"Pietro" Wanda whispers, looking at the Avenger that's walking closer, making her brother turn around and spot the redhead.

"I wanna help" Natasha assures, still keeping her arms up, so worried Pietro just nods as he has absolutely no idea what to do. "You need to breath, Wanda. Breath with me" She says softly, taking a hold of Wanda's hand and trying to get the young girl to breath properly. "Don't stand there like that! Help me get her to the jet!" She orders to her team members quickly before looking back at Wanda. "That's it, you're doing great"

The Avengers are quick to listen, Steve helping Pietro to get the young witch to the jet while Clint's already in the jet, ready to set off to the compound.

"I'm not ready, I don't think I can do it" Wanda whispers as soon as she's sitting in the jet, tears filling her eyes as she's gripping her brother's and Natasha's hands.

"Of course you can, Wanda. Everything will be okay. You'll have your baby son or daughter soon" Natasha gives the scared girl a soft smile, rubbing her knuckles with her thumb before Wanda squeezes her hand once again as another contraction comes, making both Natasha and Pietro let out groan.

"Daughter. It's a girl" Wanda whispers.

"Oh, a girl? See, you'll have your baby daughter soon. Have you thought about a name already?" Natasha continues the conversation, trying to distract Wanda from the pain.

"Mhm. Y/N… Y/N Maximoff" A small smile forms on Wanda's face, loving the name she's chosen for her baby girl.

"That's a beautiful name. Did you choose it?"

"Yeah, I- aaah. Oh my god, are we there yet?!"

———

"Few more pushes" The doctor informs, trying to encourage Wanda, thought the witch feels exhausted as ever.

Pietro being the supportive brother he is, he agreed he'd be there with Wanda the whole time. Though it looks like he overestimated himself as he got soon replaced by Natasha.

"I don't think I can do it, I can't anymore" Wanda nearly whispers, tears slowly running down her cheeks.

"Of course you can, Wanda. I know we don't really know each other, but I just know you can do it. You're such a strong girl" Natasha encourages, giving Wanda a soft smile.

"Let's push on three, okay?" The doctor says on which Wanda nods. "Good… One, two, three. Push"

Wanda squeezes her eyes shut, trying to push as much as she can while squeezing Natasha's hand for her dear life.

"You're doing so good, let's go again. One, two, three. Push" The doctor says on which Wanda repeats her actions as good as she can, Natasha trying not to hiss in pain from Wanda's tight grip over her hand.

As soon as the room fill baby cries, Wanda rests her head on the pillow, completely exhausted.

"You did it" Natasha smiles warmly, wiping away the tear that's escaped her eye. It doesn't happen often when Natasha gets emotional.

"Are you ready to see your daughter?" The doctor asks with a smile, handing Wanda the little one wrapped in a pink blanket.

"Oh hi" Wanda smiles, tears forming in her eyes once again, Natasha smiling at the sight. "You're so beautiful, sweetheart. I'm your mommy" The brunette whispers, tears running down her cheeks while she's rubbing her daughter's small knuckles with her finger. "I love you so much, Y/N/N. Mommy will always protect you, I promise"

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

I've never written about giving birth, so hopefully it's not too bad xd

I'm so glad that you enjoy my stories!! This makes me so happy!! <;33

Thank you for reading and liking! <;33

Merry Christmas!!! <;33

Wanda Maximoff masterlist

Masterlist

[shiftinglea]

Clarifications about Death and Taking Your Own Life

My last post about death (part 2) raised many questions about suicide and why it's different and "wrong" compared to other causes of death, such as being brutally killed. In this post, I want to address those questions.

1. If you get brutally killed, is it chosen by our souls?

Yes. As I mentioned, when and how you die is decided by you on a soul level. Even if a person dies in a horrible way at the hands of others, it was chosen by that person's soul. I understand why this is hard to comprehend and accept. When I see news about a child being brutally killed by their parents, my first reaction is pain, horror, sadness, and anger. It's natural. But let's return to the question: why would someone choose (on a soul level) to die like that?

The answer is a matter of perspective. From our human perspective, this death is unfathomable. But from the soul's perspective, it makes sense. Everything in our life is created by us, either consciously, subconsciously, or on a soul level. As I mentioned in my first post, some traumatic situations that we would never consciously choose to manifest are indeed chosen by our souls to be experienced. Death is also created by your soul because it serves the agenda of that soul. What is the agenda of the soul of a child brutally murdered by their parents? Why did their soul choose to die like that?

I can't provide a definitive answer since I don't know the agendas of each specific soul. But when I asked my soul and God to help me understand why such deaths are chosen by souls, I received this answer:

When a child (or anyone) dies in such a way, the agenda of that soul could be:

- A selfless agenda to serve others. In this case, it would be to show other people how our society is flawed and make them face the problems of our world. It's a powerful message and agenda that helps others awaken. When we see news about an innocent child being brutally murdered, we experience pain. This pain shows that this is not who we are. We are beings of love. It also makes you wonder why our society creates "monsters" who kill their own children or anyone. It's about taking responsibility for our creations and realizing that all these criminals are byproducts of the current system that the majority created. Do you think that if we lived in a peaceful society where everyone feels safe, loved, equal, and has their needs met, anyone would desire to hurt others? No, because we are all One. We are individuations of God. When we hurt others, we hurt ourselves. When we see people being killed, mutilated, or tortured, the purpose behind it is to show that the way we do things on this planet doesn't work. Society needs to change. All the people who die in such horrible ways, their souls chose to show us that. The agenda is to help us wake up through pain.

- Another agenda souls might have when going through traumatic events and horrible deaths is to experience forgiveness, empathy, compassion, and resilience. Experiencing trauma helps a soul better understand the suffering of others. It fosters empathy. Such deep compassion can be essential for a soul's growth and its ability to help others. When a soul wants to experience forgiveness, it chooses life events (and even death) that create a context for such forgiveness. How can you forgive when there is nothing and no one to forgive? A soul would create a contract with another soul to experience forgiveness by being hurt in the physical realm. If a soul chooses to experience its own power and limitlessness, it may create very challenging and traumatic events to see that even the most horrible pain and situations don't destroy it. Even dying brutally, you realize it didn't destroy you. You keep on living, realizing that your body is fragile, but the Real You never dies and never suffers.

Also, check this video to understand this point better.

I want to add that when people die in such horrible ways, they experience such encompassing love in the spiritual realm that it helps them heal. Eventually, such souls remember why they chose to die like that and see perfection in everything, especially their death, because it served their agenda.

Some people say that thinking others chose to go through such suffering is blaming the victims. But I don't see it that way. I'm not blaming them; I honor them. I see beyond the simple fact of being brutally killed. I see the agenda behind their choice to die like that. I admire such souls for choosing such life paths. And I feel happy for them because I know they are now in a place of pure love and light. They are so cared for and taken care of. They are Home with God.

2. Another question I want to answer: isn’t being murdered and killed considered dying before your life is completed?

No. Your physical life completion isn’t defined by your biological clock and age. It’s defined by whether you have accomplished everything you wanted to on a soul level. This decision is made by your soul, not your mind. Dying very early on (e.g., in childhood) or being killed by someone is perfectly timed by your soul. Even if it seems that this person died too early and without accomplishing much, it’s only our limited human perspective. Their soul accomplished everything it wanted and it was time to move on to the spiritual realm.

3. Perhaps the most asked question: isn’t suicide also chosen by the soul? Why is it different and worse than being killed?

First of all, it's not "worse" or "better." These are human terms. In this case, it's about choosing paths that suit your agenda and goals and those that don't. As I mentioned in the original post, death must meet two conditions to be classified as suicide:

- You must be aware of what you are doing, making a conscious decision to die.

- You must choose to die to escape life rather than complete it.

When people kill themselves, they mostly do it in hopes of escaping their lives. It's not wrong or bad; it's just counterproductive. You don't escape anything. It's merely a temporary escape into the spiritual realm, leading to a rebirth where the same challenges reemerge. It doesn't happen instantly.

When a person kills themselves, they enter the spiritual realm where they heal from all the pain and suffering they went through. They spend as long as they need there. They remember who they truly are (God) and why they chose to experience such challenges. They remember their agenda. Nobody forces them to go through such challenges; it's always free will. If a soul decides it hasn't accomplished its agenda, it returns to the physical realm (when ready) to face the same challenges again.

Suicide is never chosen by the soul. It's a decision made by your human self in hopes of escaping life. It's an untimely death because they haven't accomplished what they wanted. They escaped it.

Some people ask, what if the soul realizes it made a mistake and doesn't want to go through the same challenges? Our human minds can make mistakes, but our souls are pure essence of God. Do you think God makes mistakes? Your soul always knows what it's doing. It never chooses challenges it thinks are impossible for you to handle. If you're facing challenges, it means you're capable of dealing with them. You've placed such situations (unconsciously) to find a gift in them. Manifesting and using the LOA is one way to deal with difficult situations. Seeing deeper meaning behind every challenge is another. But killing yourself means deciding you can't deal with the situation and there's no other way. But there are always ways. You are a powerful creator and you can deal with anything. Nothing can destroy you. You will have as many reincarnations as needed to accept your limitlessness, power, and immortality.

I'm having these conversations with you to help expand your mind. To elevate your thinking from a human perspective to a soul perspective. The human perspective is limiting. But when you look at your life from a soul perspective, you see perfection in everything, especially in traumatic experiences. You are not human; you are having a human experience.

I hope this post helped you to understand better such complex topics as death and suicide. If you have more questions, I’m always open to them 🙏

[blouisparadise]

Upon request, today we have a second part to our rec list of domestic fics. In case you missed it, you can find the first part here. If you enjoy our rec lists, please be sure to like and reblog the post to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) To Make a Home Where There Is None | Mature | 3,907 words

Harry shows up and doesn't want to leave. Louis doesn't mind too much.

2) Harmony | Explicit | 6,175 words

Alpha Harry and Omega Louis don’t have the most amicable relationship at work. When they get stuck together in an elevator, Harry scents Louis after nothing else works to bring him out of his panicked state. Their time trapped in the elevator together brings to light some misunderstandings, and maybe some feelings for each other, too.

3) Too Nervous to be Lovers | Mature | 6,445 words

Louis doesn't want to spend quarantine with Harry, his straight roommate, who doesn't even acknowledge his existence.

4) Oranges, Whipped Cream and Blueberries | Explicit | 9,135 words

Louis was an omega of a pure bloodline. He had known since he was merely eight years old that he was to be bonded with a high ranked alpha. Not the one of his choice, but the one deemed suitable for him by the elders. Little did he know that the alpha would be the leader of his pack; the greatest pack known to their kind.

5) I Glow Pink In The Night | Explicit | 12,128 words

“These are academic articles,” Harry argues lightly. He runs his hands up and down Louis’ smooth and tan legs, grinning when Louis purrs. “I just want to learn more about you. We’ve only been dating for a few months.” Louis bites down a smile, warmth filling his belly and a flush coloring his cheeks. Pulling his fluffy black tail around him, he picks off lint and flicks them onto the floor. “Well, then ask me.”

6) With The Certainty Of Tides | Mature | 13,980 words

“Love you,” Louis whispered in the dark. He didn’t know what time it was or where the light had gone, he knew that he was in Harry’s arms, basking in the afterglow of all their love and he’d be a fool to not tell Harry that. As if Harry didn’t know. “Love you,” was whispered back, as if Louis didn’t know. They confessed to each other as if it was their first time saying it, raw and painful, and listened to it the very same way, but they knew those words to be the only ones true. With all the certainty of the tides, with all the light from the sun, with all the steady beats of their hearts, they were deftly in love, in secret and so loudly. They were brave and fearless and strong and hopelessly devoted in every sense of their breaths. “We made it, baby,” Harry mumbled, bringing their lips into a final kiss, sweet and soft and the color of pink. They already knew that, didn’t fight tooth and nail and argued through every petty year and bleed their hearts into the words they sang and on their skin for them to have not made it home. They were home.

7) Hungry Heart | Explicit | 16,100 words

"So you're using me and my kitchen for a bigger paycheck?" Harry asks. "What do I get out of it?" "What do you-" Louis parrots in disbelief. "I get a job that doesn't make me work ten hour shifts just to barely pay my rent while you get three meals a day cooked for you." "So, what, you're like some glorified housewife?" Housewife, personal chef, Louis doesn't care. Contract's signed and done; T's crossed and I's dotted. Louis will wear an apron and twirl his hair all pretty if that's what he wants. Even if the job feels more like some drawn out jail sentence, Louis hopes this isn't going to be a long summer.

8) Three’s A Crowd, Four’s A Party | Mature | 16,569 words

“Morgan, sweetie, mommy and daddy have something we want to talk to you about.” The little girl looks at them confused, having no idea what’s about to happen. “First I want to tell you that we love you very much and nothing will ever change that, okay?” “I love you too!” Louis smiles. “What we wanted to talk to you about is that there’s going to be some changes around here soon.” “Why?” “Because mommy’s having a baby.”

9) Hijack My Heart | Explicit | 18,105 words

Harry Styles loved challenges. What was life without challenges? he asked himself at 17 when he failed his A levels and had to switch schools. Challenges made life interesting, he said at 20 when he moved to New York, all alone, away from his friends and family. Challenges are what make life worth living, he thought at 25 when the nurse handed him the most beautiful baby girl on the planet, and asked him to give her a name. Challenges suck, he thought at 25 and a half, when he held a wailing baby in his arms on the 6.00 AM flight to London, from New York.

10) Tennis Court | Explicit | 18,285 words

Louis and Harry are co-workers and Louis is sure Harry hates him because he always refuses to help him with his heats.

11) What Happens In Vegas...Doesn't Stay In Vegas | Explicit | 21,976 words

What should have been a fun one-night stand in Vegas turns into something a lot more complicated. Because getting married is easy but getting unmarried... not so much.

12) True Blue | Explicit | 23,409 words

Louis and Harry are the most codependent couple. Harry's life purpose is to take care of his omega & Louis' is to be doted on. After a few too many jabs from their friends and coworkers, Louis is determined to show Harry that he's capable of surviving on his own while Harry is certain that Louis is going to break up with him at any moment.

13) My End And My Beginning | Explicit | 24,749 words

When Louis starts as an intern at a new company, he becomes particularly fond of the boss’ five children. And maybe the boss himself as well.

14) Yours To Lose | Mature | 25,742 words

Louis always gets distracted with his mummy duty and he eventually catches Harry's attention.

15) Confections Of The Heart | Explicit | 25,877 words

Louis is a single mom, Harry is a pastry chef, and Oliver just wants his mom to be happy. With a teaspoon of love and a sprinkle of fate, the three might just find a home in each other.

16) Through Chaos As It Swirls, It’s Us Against The World | Explicit | 31,728 words

Corporal Styles is sent on a suicidal mission, at his hands the lives of hundreds of men that are going straight into a trap. He ends up finding Louis, the french and most beautiful boy he has ever seen, and a baby, in a basement of a dead city.

17) Deleted Scenes | Explicit | 33,623 words

Agent Harry Styles was injured on the job a few months back, and gets roped in one last mission before he can retire prematurely: playing house with Louis, a widower who has amnesia. The assignment seems simple at the beginning, but soon enough Harry's twisted in a web of his own making, and can't get out anymore.

18) A Common Place Affliction | Explicit | 36,508 words

“You should go home,” Louis muses, and Harry can feel the omega crouch down to become eye level with Harry, poking his cheek with a dainty finger. Harry lifts his arm, taking a peek at Louis’ face. Louis looks tired, he notes, but not exhausted, and there’s an eyelash stuck to his cheek. Harry doesn’t hesitate to lazily reach out and thumb over his cheek. “Can’t,” Harry croaks, blindly twisting his hand around to grab at Louis’ offending finger and just holding it. “C’mere. Take a nap with me,” he asks after a beat, opening an eye to look at Louis. Louis raises an eyebrow. “M’not going to nap with you in the middle of the ER, H.” Sighing, Harry squeezes the young nurse’s finger. “Nobody cares.” He knows they do; they’ll annoy nurses and probably worry patients when they catch sight of a nurse and surgeon sleeping on the job. Let alone in the middle of the emergency ward hallway. Harry can hear the complaints now: ‘these are the people we’re supposed to trust with our lives?’

19) All This Devotion | Explicit | 38,047 words

Louis is Harry’s work wife. The already blurry lines of their friendship are smudged further when they get caught up in a web of lies.

20) Kiss Me On The Mouth And Set Me Free (But Please Don’t Bite) | Mature | 42,036 words

Harry is the CEO of Flora Corp, Louis is his new secretary.

21) A Silent Whisper (That's Left Unsaid) | Explicit | 50,848 words

Note: This fic is locked and can be only be read by AO3 users.

A Fake Relationship & Exes to Lovers AU ft a failed proposal ten years ago, an oblivious Harry, an overworked Louis, Zayn as the protective best friend, a meddling aunt and a lot of talks about weddings and rings.

22) Forgive The Urgency, But Hurry Up And Wait | Explicit | 53,701 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to this fic. We'd suggest reading that one first.

Louis' going to do better. He’s going to have all of the uncomfortable conversations and the relationship talks. He’s going to make himself be a good boyfriend. And he’s got absolutely no idea where to start.

23) Strawberries & Cigarettes | Explicit | 76,633 words

Summary: Two stories, eleven years, and the two boys that never stopped loving each other.

24) Saving Symphony Hall | Explicit | 124,766 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to this fic. We'd suggest reading that one first. This fic is locked and can be only be read by AO3 users.

“I think I have an idea,” Louis said. Slowly, and reluctantly, but with a growing sense of the inevitable. “God damnit, I think I have a really good idea.” “Oh christ, that's the problem-solving face,” Babs said. “Last time we saw that face, he sold a company.” “Wait, what?” Zayn asked. “Right place, right time,” Louis said. “Also, fuck my life,” “What?” Zayn repeated. Niall patted his hand. “I usually just roll with whatever Louis is about to do,” he said. “It’s better for us all.” “That’s the attitude,” said Louis, “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tonight, I need to do some research. Zayn, give me your number. I’m gonna save our symphony.”

25) Love Me Until The End | Explicit | 207,311 words

AU where Louis, an Omega, is the head nurse of the hospital in charge of running the nursing staff. Harry, an Alpha, is a highly respected surgeon working at the same hospital. They also happen to fall in love.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[uyuforu]

Jungkook's Briede Asteroid in Natal Chart

Briede (19029) is an asteroid discovered in 2000 by the LINEAR project. The asteroid represents the bride, the future spouse but on the feminine side. If you are interested in women, looking at Briede in Natal Chart will tell you who is your FS. You can also look at Briede Persona Chart. If you are not interested in women, but you are a women, you can also look at those to see what kind of wife you will be. Briede in the Natal Chart of JK will tell us who he will marry, what impacts in his life she will have.

Cancer Briede

-> The cutest! Cancer Briede means JK will see his FS as a very feminine woman, someone he wants to cherish, and love the most. Cancer can be important in his FS's chart. His FS is most likely going to be indeed a feminine woman, someone who may be younger than him, someone who can look younger than who she is. She can be someone who is soft, nurturing, someone people see a home in, she can be considered as a mother to others, or a shelter. She is someone very nice, caring, a true empath. Seeing other people crying can make her cry. She feels people's pain. They can be someone people want to protect, people always sense a sort of responsibility towards his FS. He def feels like he needs to protect her. He can find her very cute and adorable when they meet. Even during marriage, he will feel like he needs to protect her agains the world. He will want to nurture her. She may be younger than him, or look very young, or both! She could love her family, or just love the people she consider her family. This could also be a sign of JK seeing her as the mother of his children. There can be also a thing for her to look very innocent, or she can be too. She is just a soft soul, and JK will love to see her as a sweetheart. She could love water or live around water, or they could meet around water. She could have a water sign in her big 3 or big 6 maximum. Mostly maybe Cancer. Briede conjuncts Fama in his NC, indicating the FS is someone who will be famous when they will meet. Fame is what could make them be together. Because both are in the 7H, a contract of partnership could play a role in it, perhaps.

7H Briede

-> Having Briede in the 7H means JK may see his FS as someone very romantic, someone he finds very attractive. It means he will see her as someone he always dreamed about, someone who he considers as his true and only spouse. JK is quite romantic naturally (Libra Venus what did you expect lol), so this placement doesn't shock me at all!! This can be considered as love at first sight for his FS, because 7H Briede is literally falling in love at first sight. It is like romanticizing the person directly. He could see her as someone very harmonious, almost perfect for him, and he could also see her as very feminine. This could indicate FS being a beauty, maybe a beauty figure, or known for her beauty. She could also have a business, or signed a particular contract. She could be known for her physical attributes, or just attracts many suitors because of it. Her beauty is what will make JK fall for sure, at least at first sight. This person could also be considered as a beautiful soul, someone who is gentle, caring. Some people could idolize her and feel like she is perfect. Ethereal presence. JK will def think this way too. This person could also care a lot about what she looks like, how she dresses, how she appears. Tbh, 7H Briede is a sign of marrying at first sight. JK will just know from that moment she is the one he will marry. To me, this is also a sign of a real wedding, not just a contract, there is a real wedding happening. Sometimes when we say FS, it can mean "the person you will stay the longest with", like sometimes people don't actually marry, you know what I mean? Yet, this kind of asteroid in 7H is a huge sign for real wedding, though it is not the only sign someone will indeed get a wedding.

Briede 9°

-> The 9° is a Sagittarius degree, making it more obvious that JK will marry a foreigner. This is indeed a sign of marrying someone from another country or culture than you, sometimes it can be different religion also. His FS could have all of those, but can also be someone spiritual or mature too. She could love to travel, and could also be someone who is open-minded, someone who understands the art of learning from life. She could be smart too, and good at school. She can be a good teacher for JK too, and he could also teach her a few things. A sign of a smart spouse, not only academically, but also could be just smart and mature person, everyday like.

જ⁀➴ Juno, Groom, Briede in Signs, Houses, Degrees

Thank you for reading!

Book a reading with Uyu

*Uyu's Email Adress: tarotjunoboda@gmail.com

*This is the only email address I have!

Soft To You Q&A ⟡ Menus ⟡ Explanation of the different charts ⟡ Rules ⟡ Reviews

back to index ; ask ; requests ; rules

[rapunzelbro]

A sacrifice for a friend Angel Dust x Reader 3.5

Let’s just ignore the fact I forgot this draft. Uh. Yeah anywho enjoy (sorry I low key forgot)

Masterlist Taglist

1 2 2.5 3 3.5 4 5 6 Statement

Angel Dust stands in the middle of his room, eyes wide with disbelief and horror. His hands shake uncontrollably as he watches the video on his phone, unable to tear his gaze away from the screen. It's as if he's watching a scene from a nightmare, unable to process the reality of what he's seeing. The porn film features someone named ‘Vixiepop’ but he knew it was you, alive and well. His heart pounds against his ribcage, threatening to burst out of his chest as he wonders how this could be possible.

He can feel Husk's presence behind him, as the door to his room swung open, but he doesn't dare turn around. He knows that if he looks at the other man, he'll see the same expression of shock and confusion that he feels himself. Instead, he focuses on the video, hoping for it to provide some sort of answer as to why you be alive. The room started to spin, he takes a shaky breath, trying to steady himself, but it does little to help.

Husk gently places a hand on Angel's shoulder, offering what little comfort he can. "Angel, you need to calm down. We need to figure out what's going on here." His voice is calm and reassuring, but it does little to ease the panic that's beginning to claw at Angel's throat.

The room feels like it's spinning out of control, and Angel can't seem to catch his breath. He looks around wildly, tears streaming down his face, his chest heaving with each ragged breath. The only thing he can focus on is the video, the image of you, alive and well.

Husk gently leads him to the bed, helping him sit down before kneeling in front of him. "Angel, look at me. You need to calm down. We're going to figure this out together. Okay?" He holds Angel's shoulders, his grip firm but not painful. The other man's eyes are wild, darting back and forth between Husk and the video.

Angel nods, trying to take in a deep breath, but his chest is still heaving. His vision starts to clear, and he focuses on Husk's face. "But how? How is it possible? they’re supposed to be dead. I saw their contract with my own eyes. How can they be alive?" His voice breaks on the last word, and fresh tears stream down his face.

Husk sighs, rubbing his face with one hand. "I don't know, Angel. I don't know how or why they’re alive. But we have to find out. We have to figure this out together." He looks back up at Angel, his expression solemn.

Angel nods, taking another shaky breath. "Okay. We'll find out. But... what do we do in the meantime? Do we tell anyone? Charlie? " He feels like his world is spinning out of control, and he's desperate for something, anything, to make sense of it.

Husk considers this for a moment. "I don't think we should say anything to Charlie just yet. We don't want to alarm her or make things worse. We should gather more information first. You focus on your breathing, okay? Try to calm down." He pats Angel's knee reassuringly.

As Angel begins to steady his breaths, he nods at Husk's words. "Okay. I'll try. So... what do we do first?" He looks up at Husk, hopeful that the other man has some sort of plan to help them navigate this unimaginable situation.

Husk stands, offering Angel a hand up. "First, I want to go to where you and Y/n used to hang out.." He pauses, his expression softening. "You're sure you're feeling up to it? Because we can wait until you're feeling better if you need more time. It is Valentinos club”

Angel takes Husk's hand, squeezing it gratefully. "I'll be fine. Let's go now." He wipes his face with the back of his hand, trying to compose himself. "Maybe we'll find something there that will help us understand what's going on."

As they leave the room and head towards the club, a mixture of emotions swirls through Angel's chest. Part of him is terrified, still struggling to accept the impossible reality before him, while another part is filled with a renewed sense of determination. He can't help but feel like fate has given him a second chance, and he's going to do everything in his power to make the most of it.

Angel Dust tag list: @vendetta-ari @brithedemonspawn @satansmanager @storydays @saturnhas82moons @zamadness @fizziepopangel @saitisfied @the--rebel--fae @mcueveryday @rainbowbunny15 @molarloo @bonkbonkbo

fan fic @apollobean s @kaoyamamegami @ozzersauce @idontreallyexistyet @kyriekurokami

[the-phoenix-heart]

hang on lemme cook. LEMME COOK

Okay so I've been thinking about the stolitz breakup since I watched it last night and the thing I keep thinking about is Stolas saying, "Blitzo, I think so very highly of you...I didn't realize you think so low of me." It is a painful line read, Bryce Pinkham at his very best. And in a way Stolas is right, the fact that Blitzo thinks Stolas would willfully manipulate and play with Blitzo's emotions is a low opinion to have of him. It also makes sense that he sends Blitzo away because he's yelling at him (even Blitzo's cadence sounds a bit like Stella). However, I think Stolas misunderstands where Blitzo is coming from.

We know Stolas is aware of the power dynamic between them, and specifically the transactional nature, and that he is aware that it is unhealthy. However, I think Stolas only understands that transactional part as the unhealthy bit. Stolas (in "Full Moon" and "Just Look My Way") focuses on the "unspoken contract" and how tethered they are to each other. He thinks by giving Blitzo the crystal and semi-confessing (Stolas never says the words "I love you") it means they will be on even ground and Blitzo won't feel like he has to whore himself out for Stolas's grimoire (something he needs for his business so he can live). Then Blitzo can actually choose to stay with him or not. But he doesn't understand that even without the grimoire there's the inherent power imbalance on the hell hierarchy level.

Stolas says in "Just Look My Way", "I don't care that you're of lower station" and that's because he doesn't. But that doesn't mean Stolas is an imp ally. Stolas has never indicated that Blitzo isn't just the exception. Just in this episode Stolas was seen making life harder for his imp butler, and then there's the scene in "Seeing Stars" where he is holding the imp butler holding the phone and squeezing him when he gets pissed. His interactions with Moxie and Millie also don't really make it seem like he cares that much about them as people. Blitzo isn't wrong when he calls out Stolas's treatment of his butlers, or when he says that Stolas was dismissing him in a way that felt disrespectful. Even him putting his hand in his face feels like how he would dismiss a servant.

Throughout the entire conversation Stolas is very cordial, very genuine, and very respectful of Blitzo's emotions-right up until he takes Blitzo's response as a rejection-but even then Stolas always has the power in the conversation. Even when he is being emotionally vulnerable, he is still the one controlling the conversation. He's the one stressing Blitzo out with it. Even when he gets on his knees to put the crystal on Blitzo's glove he is technically taking the choice away from Blitzo to choose it. And then his reaction to Blitzo thinking it's roleplay is that Blitzo really doesn't want him is to completely shutdown emotionally and not listen to Blitzo.

And Blitzo is not wrong for thinking it's about sex. Half of this is Blitzo convincing himself it's roleplay because he doesn't believe anybody could truly love him, but also when isn't it about sex with Stolas? The only times where it hasn't been was after Ozzie's when Stolas offers Blitzo to come inside (which Blitzo did not believe and did not react well to) and arguably the Harvest Moon Festival where Stolas invites him, which Blitzo honestly could have misconstrued as Stolas wanting to bring his sidepiece with him. You could also make the case for "Seeing Stars" but that episode has them falling back into horny during a mission they are both participating in. And as I pointed out in an earlier post how is Blitzo supposed to realize how highly Stolas views him? Stolas has called Blitzo his "impish plaything" and covered his face at Ozzie's and has generally been condescending to him ("You are so cute when you are serious"). We know that Stolas is desperately in love with Blitzo and would do anything for him, but Blitzo himself has never really gotten that confirmation.

Hell, Blitzo is actively doing what Stolas wanted. His reaction to Stolas's semi-confession by thinking it's roleplay is specifically proof that he does want to keep this up, even if he doesn't realize the feelings behind it. And then later he is specifically trying to have a conversation with Stolas and process what's going on ("Let's go!" As in "let's have this conversation!"). The fact that Stolas sends Blitzo away when he himself starts crying, when Blitzo has been on the verge of tears throughout most of this conversation proves that Stolas is not ready to have this uncomfortable conversation. He was only ready for Blitzo to either accept or reject him, and he thought that their issues would be fixed.

"Blitzo, I think so very highly of you...I didn't realize you think so low of me." No, it's not that he thinks so low of you, it's that he has almost only seen the outrageously horny part of you, that he's more aware of this power dynamic than you, and is rightfully calling you out for how you fumbled this confession. You clearly love Blitzo, you have the right idea, but you still have these inherent biases and are unaware of the power imbalance, and you need to reevaluate some things.

This isn't to absolve Blitzo of the part he played in the breakup, but since Stolas took the initiative and almost always people are more willing to take his side, I feel he needs to be held more accountable.