#i have such an obscene amount of new writing over all and it’s just so. FUN

[stardial]

i always forget i’m like genuinely pretty good at writing. it’s like crazy

[dotster001]

When You Escape Him, Staff

Summary: Yandere staff x gn!reader. He adopts a child that looks like the two of you. You run to give you both a chance at life. You never expected him to find you.

CW: yandere content, Stockholm syndrome, blackmailing, potentially ooc?, the void, implied previous injury,

A/N: It's finally finished! There are some spin off stories coming but they will not be weekly updates. I'll write them when I write them. Also, I know I said that I'd put out a poll for what series would get weekly updates, but I've gotten so many questions about Elder God, that I'm gonna do that one. Probably won't be Sunday's, but whenever I release the next part will start the cycle.

Heartslaybul Savannaclaw Octavinelle Scarabia Pomefiore Ignihyde Diasomnia Non NRC

Three years into your relationship, he had come home and placed a baby in your arms.

"They were left in a box, all alone. And, well, he looks like if the two of us had a child," he sheepishly stared at the ground. "I just, I just figured it must be a gift from the seven."

You knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to tie himself to you through this boy. He looked just like him, and you were disgusted and scared.

Until he opened his eyes for the first time, and you found yourself staring into your own.

And you knew. You had to give this child the opportunity for a better life. A life without him.

In the end, your son did the opposite of what he had intended. And the first moment you could, the two of you had escaped.

To this day, you had no idea how you had escaped. But you had, and you'd been able to smuggle yourselves off the island and far away.

Your son had started to display signs of magical ability when he was three. You hoped it stayed a miniscule amount, considering you'd heard some people were just magic sensitive.

By the time he was eight, you realized you were not going to be lucky. By the time he turned twelve, you were burning the flyers that the dark mirror magically sent out. By sixteen, you and your son were full on panicking about the scouts that might come by to observe him, and the acceptance letter that would show up at the house.

It was a completely normal day. You'd gone to pick up your son from school, when his teacher excitedly came out to meet you.

“I have amazing news! A representative from NRC came today to test a few of our students!”

You froze.

“S/N was one of the one's they called, and he's been being tested for hours now! He's a shoe in! You must be so proud!”

You nodded rigidly, a stiff smile on your face.

She led you inside, and to one of the teacher conference rooms. Up to this point, you knew there was a chance it wasn't him. If it was anyone else, you could bargain with them.

The door opened, and your hopes were dashed.

“Ah! Welcome, welcome! I was just telling our precious chick that he has a place waiting for him among the students of our esteemed academy! He's almost as powerful as his papa! I couldn't be prouder!” At the last statement, Crowley brushed away an invisible tear.

“And I told him that I have no interest,” your son muttered angrily as he stared down at the table.

Crowley didn't react to what sounded like not the first refusal your son had given, and patted his lap excitedly.

As though everything was normal and you'd just go back to the nest.

“S/N,” you said coldly, calling him to your side. It wasn't like you were alone. If you and your son ran, shouting along the way, surely one of the teachers would hear you and get help. Your son stood to walk over to you.

It happened in seconds. His golden eyes flashed in mild irritation, and by the time you reacted he had already entered your space, and hoisted you over his shoulders.

“I consider myself a very magnanimous person, but you are pressing my patience.”

You shouted obscenities at him, trying to fight your way out of his grip, but to no avail.

“Stop squirming, or I will have to clip your wings-”

“Leave them alone!” Your son shot a fire spell at Crowley. A field around him blocked it, but he gazed at his son in parental pride.

“Just like his papa!”

“YOU'RE NOT MY PAPA!” He screamed, a blaze of fire exploding from around him.

It wasn't his fault he'd lost control. But you had a brief moment where you realized that without the field around Crowley, that would have killed you. As it was, the room was ablaze, and quickly growing out of control, causing your son to forget his anger, and panic.

Crowley sighed, and set you down. He summoned his staff, and quickly doused the fire. Then he turned to your son.

“I am a very generous man. I can pay for the damages done to the school. Which, judging by what I am seeing, is extensive. However, you both must come back to the nest.”

Your son just stared at him.

“If I don't pay for it, how do you think either of you is going to be able to pay this off? Especially not when word gets out that you attacked the Headmage of NRC. You will spend the rest of your life in debt that will continue to grow.”

“You're bluffing,” your son spat.

He definitely wasn't bluffing. You knew exactly what lengths he was willing to go to. You couldn't look him in the eye, opting to stare at the floor as you whispered,

“We'll come with you.”

“No!”

“We don't have a choice. Trust me, I know.”

“Aw, don't talk like that, treasure,” he said happily, scooping you back up and nuzzling his cheek against yours.

Your son looked at you with heart broken eyes. But there was nothing you could do. You'd always known what it looked like when he'd beaten you.

He'd let you leave…

You never wrapped your head around it.

He'd let you leave. Watched you walk out the door with your son. Hadn't said a word.

And he hadn't come after you. 

It had been four years since then. You'd been doing as well as a single parent could do.

Any accounts you had created and hid from him, your government paperwork, your social media accounts; all of it was gone. The second you stepped foot out of his mansion, he'd canceled and frozen anything and everything you had in your name. You had started from square one.

But you were alive. And so was your son. You had found a job, and had built a small life for the both of you.

But this most recent set of bills was going to upset the delicate balance.

You stared down at the statements, and sighed. You wanted to cry. You'd fought so hard. But it all amounted to nothing. The weight of the world was crushing you, and it was all you could do to keep yourself from letting it show to your son.

An unknown number appeared on your phone. You picked up. Probably a debt collector. Maybe you could come up with an excuse.

“Are you done playing pretend? You're not cut out to be a stray.”

You stiffened.

“How did you get this number?”

“You're not in a position to ask me questions. How does it feel to be all alone? To bite your master, then get beaten by a wild pack of wolves?”

You stared back down at the bills, biting your lip.

“Nothing to say?” You could hear the amusement in his tone. It disgusted you, but he was right. You weren't in a position to fight him.

“What do you want?” You spat.

“I want you to admit you need me. That you can't support yourself and the pup, and that I'm the only one who is able to properly take care of you.”

“What the fuck-”

“I want you to tell me that you understand that a dog is useless without a master to care for it.”

“Gah! I'm not saying anything like that!”

“Alright,” he spat, hanging up before you could say anything else.

You angrily slammed your phone against the table. 

“What's going on?” You heard your son's sleepy voice say. You turned over your shoulder, and saw him rubbing his eyes, staring at you sleepily. He was so small. So innocent. He deserved so much more.

You opened your arms, and he ran into them, snuggling against you.

“Baby, how would you feel if Daddy brought us home?”

“Daddy?”

“Yeah. We got separated, but I think he found us. Which means-”

“Daddy could take us home?”

You felt bile rise in your throat. Home. Home was stolen from you forever when a certain alchemy professor had decided you were his. But maybe home would be different for your boy. And you couldn't take that from him.

“Yeah,” you whispered.

You redialled the unknown number, half expecting him not to pick up. But he did, immediately.

You put it on speaker, and after a moment of silence, you heard, “Well?”

Your son was faster than you.

“Daddy, please come get us!”

Crewel’s breath hitched, and his voice was infinitely more tender when he spoke again.

“Of course, puppy. Daddy's coming to get you.”

Your son looked up at you with excited, warm eyes. Maybe this was for the best. It would be selfish of you to keep putting him through this. He had a father who would give him the stars in the sky if he so much as looked at them a certain way. Meanwhile, you could barely take care of yourself.

“We'll be waiting,” you said quietly.

You half expected him to go back to sounding angry and disappointed. Instead, he released a soft sigh, and said in a voice so kind that it brought tears to your eyes, “I've missed you, love.”

Sam's "friends" used to frighten you. They were the one's in charge of keeping you quiet in the back room while he worked. 

Over time, you'd grown to tolerate them. They were terrifying. But they left you alone for the most part.

The day Sam had placed your son in your arms was the first time they'd spoken to you. You'd been alone, staring at your own hollow eyes in the mirror, reflecting on how you had to get this child away from him, when a whispery voice had hissed in your ear.

“We can free you.”

You'd refused to trade your soul, but you'd given up ten years of your life span. Over the years, they would update you if you needed to move. They would tell you what he was up to. They would hide you from new “friends” who would try to find you. 

It was your son's 16th birthday. And something was wrong.

The "friend" who had offered you the deal in the first place was missing. They were always around, except for when Sam needed them. It was odd for them not to be there. 

And you, yourself, felt weird. You'd woken up to a tingle in the tips of your fingers, and a disco party in your chest.  You gotten up to wake up your son, then prepared him a birthday pancake. You placed a candle into it, and were about to light it, when it lit itself.

“Hello, friend,” you muttered. “Is something wrong? It's not like you to be gone for so long.”

You felt phantom fingers detangling a knot in your hair, and a voice hissed in your ear, “We serve more than just you.”

They sounded…oddly defensive. But you couldn't think about that now, because your son had just stumbled tiredly into the room.

“Aw, you shouldn't have,” he grinned when he saw the pancake. He leaned in and blew out the candle, before sitting down and digging in. You sat down in the seat next to him, digging into your own breakfast, when your “friend” released a hiss.

Suddenly, in the corner, a dark void opened up, and out stepped,

“Sam,” you whispered in terror, as you stood from your spot. You turned to your “friend” who was moving to join him.

“Hello, little imp. Long time no see,” he grinned at you, his eyes glowing bright lime as the room filled with fog from the void.

“Wait, I had a deal!” You shouted.

“We received a better offer,” your “friend”’s voice hissed with merciless glee. “Don't worry, we returned your ten years to you.”

“Damn, I wanted to see you for so long. But now that I see your face, I'm absolutely disgusted,” Sam spat bitterly.

The smoke wrapped around you like unbreakable ropes. You struggled against them, but they only grew tighter, quickly feeling suffocating.

He walked up to you, gripping your chin in his hand.

“I paid quite the price for you. And now I just want you to suffer like I did.”

“Wait-” your son cut in, seemingly finally able to break out of his shock.

This brought Sam's attention to him, his eyes filling with love and adoration.

“And there's my boy! Can you believe I spent years thinking a fate worse than death had befallen you?” Sam said sweetly.

“You're scaring me. Cut out whatever it is you're doing, and leave us alone!”

Sam's eyes flashed back to yours, a staff suddenly appearing in his hand.

“No. I made a deal after all.”

He stalked towards you, and you watched in horror as various shadow creatures restrained your son.

“I had to choose. You or my son.” The staff came up under your chin, pressing uncomfortably into your throat. “I used to worship you. And you gave me nothing,” he hissed. Then he smiled. “It wasn't that hard of a decision to make, really.”

His lips were pressed against yours, cutting off your air completely.

“Goodbye, Y/N,” he breathed against you. He then shoved you, and you fell backwards into darkness, his hate filled glowing gaze the last thing you saw.

“Please, just, don't tell anyone about us. He's not interested in becoming a mage.”

It felt like you were pleading for your life. Because you were. Crowley had arrived at your son's school to scout students for the college. The second your son had gotten word, he'd called you, and you'd rushed to the school, prepared with a lie about a doctor's appointment you'd both forgotten. Crowley moved far too fast though, and had already found your son.

“Y/N. My employees' well being is of great importance to me!” 

“I'm sure he's fine,” your son groaned in the seat next to you. “I really don't want to be a mage. So scout someone else, and leave us alone.”

Your boy was a good one. But his downfall was his strong sense of justice. You had never intended to tell him the lengths Ashton had gone to keep you, but he'd been relentless. You hadn't told him everything, but the both of you were pretty certain he might do something bad if he ever met the man.

Crowley looked at you both in disappointment. You remembered that look. It brought you back to your Ramshackle days when you were asking him to install heat, and he'd made you feel like you were asking for a million dollars. But you weren't his student anymore. You weren't his slave. He had no control over you.

“It would be a great shame for someone of your abilities to waste them. And besides,” Crowley’s disappointed frown turned into a frightening grin. “Around this time of year, a certain physical education professor gets rather whiney, and makes it everyone's problem. Now, whose fault is that?” 

“He's a big kid. If he can't move on, that's his own fault. And if it's a problem, you can fire him,” you said bluntly, not going to feel guilted for what you'd done.

Crowley leveled a glare at you.

“I gave you a home. I gave you money. I gave you an expensive education, for free. I allowed you to keep your cat, and eventually your son. You owe me.” He snapped his fingers, and the mirror in the corner swirled to life. Suddenly, he was behind the both of you, yanking you from your seats, and shoving you through the mirror.

You both landed in a patch of grass, right behind a burly man in a memorable red sweatshirt. He hadn't noticed you yet. You pressed your finger to your lips, and pointed to the nearby woods. Your son nodded, and you both turned slowly.

Only to bump straight into Crowley.

“For Seven's sake, Ashton! Get it together!” Crowley snapped, causing the man of the hour to finally look over his shoulder.

His eyes widened, and he ran straight for you, wrapping you in a hug so tight that you thought your ribs might break. Again.

“Ashton,” you wheezed, feeling the familiar feeling of panic you always felt when he was involved. 

“You're so scrawny,” he muttered in your ear. You were always “too scrawny” to him. But of course it would be the first thing he'd say to you after so long of being apart. 

“I can't believe you survived out there,” he boomed loudly, holding you by the shoulders at arms length, looking you up and down with a jovial smile.

“Put them down!” Your son snapped, shaking you out of your fear momentarily. You looked over your shoulder to see him tied up in Crowley's “whips of love”.

Ashton’s eyes brightened even further.

“Ha ha! You look just like your old man! A few hundred pushups, and you'll be just as strong as I am!”

“Fuck you!” 

Ashton's eyes darkened, and turned back to you, reigniting your terror tenfold. His grip on your shoulders tightened painfully.

“What have you been saying about me, Y/N?”

You shivered in terror. You knew that look.

“I didn't-”

“You don't deserve our love, you monster!”

Ashton tossed you to the side like you were nothing. You winced. He never seemed fully aware of what his strength was capable of. He marched up to your son, snatching him from Crowley.

“Looks like we need to do some training, to whip ya into shape.”

He snatched you under his other arm, storming off in the direction of the school.

“Vargas! Your students!” Crowley called after him, but he was completely ignored.

You were thoroughly soaked from the rain outside. You stood before him, staring at the ground in shame as he silently sipped tea, and studied you. Eventually, he sighed, standing up and placing the baby in the bassinet in the corner of his spacious bedroom. He returned to his seat, and sighed again.

“To say I am disappointed would be an understatement,” Mozus said sternly. 

The door had been unlocked. In a moment of stupidity, you'd taken the chance to grab the baby and run. You hadn't realized that Trein had put up countless charms around the estate, including one that allowed the topiary knights to drag you back to him. If that wasn't enough, it was pouring. A mud puddle had been your undoing.

You dripped onto the floor, awaiting the speech and upcoming punishment.

“Look at me when I talk to you,” he snapped, and you quickly looked up. His face and demeanor were calm, but his eyes glinted in anger.

“I trained you to be a better spouse than this. What in the Seven's names were you thinking?”

He paused, seeming to wait and see what brilliant answer you would provide.

“I don't know,” you whispered.

“You don't know. Well, do you have any hints?”

You honestly didn't. Things had been peaceful recently. Up until the moment you ran out the door, you had convinced yourself you were finally able to be happy here. But seeing that unlocked door had stirred something in you. A final rebellion. A chance for your son, who shouldn't have to grow up under Trein's tyranny.

Now that you were under his scrutiny, however, all of that seemed to fade away. Instead, you were filled with embarrassment and guilt.

“I'm sorry,” you whimpered.

His glare softened into pure disappointment. Which, somehow, made you feel worse.

“Sorry won't clean the mud off my carpet,” he said tiredly. He looked you up and down, before pouring himself another cup of tea. 

“I know.”

“You know I can't leave this unpunished?”

“Yes.”

He looked at you, unreadable, before he nodded to the door.

“Go clean yourself up, then wait for me in your room while I decide on your punishment.”

You nodded, trudging towards the door. Then the baby started to softly cry. Instinctively, you turned the child. Trein's expression turned soft, more tender. 

“Go ahead,” he said, his voice full of love.

You picked up the baby, and made your way to your room.

[good-griief]

Hii! Could you maybe try to write something about sexting Abby while she's at work? Thanks💗

guess whos back!!! goodness this is late but i hope you enjoy<33

For some reason, despite Abby saying she couldn’t work nights, her boss had put out a schedule where she was only working late shifts. It was early enough that it wasn’t “nights”, so she couldn’t protest, but it was late enough that she often had to stay later due to someone calling in or some tasks taking an obscene amount of time. 

She was pissed, to say the least. 

And you were missing your nights with her. 

Usually, with this new schedule, if she ran overtime she’d get home around 8:00 or 8:30, but it was getting to be 9. 

You were in bed, watching a movie when you called her. The phone rang a few times, and just as you were going to hang up and assume she was driving, she picked up. 

“I’m leaving soon,” she answered.

“Abs, you’re supposed to be done by seven. It’s—“

“I know what time it is,” she was quick to say. “I had meetings all day, so I didn’t have any time to get anything done. I’m finishing up now, okay?”

“You couldn’t have just left after your meetings?” She didn’t answer, but since sounded so stressed, voice gritted and tired, you left it alone. “Alright. Is it okay if I eat without you, then?” You asked her. “I’m getting tired.”

“You haven’t eaten yet?” You could hear her click something on her computer before her chair squeaked, the sound of her leaning back to give you her full attention. 

“I always wait to have dinner with you.” She was quiet. “How much do you have left?”

There was a faint clicking and typing in the background before she sighed. “You should eat.” You pursed your lips, your silence letting her know you were irritated. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

She then hung up. 

You weren’t going to eat without her just yet, so you kept your movie on. By the time it was over, it’d been an hour with still no sign of Abby. 

That was when you decided to eat, dishing up for yourself and leaving a serving for your girlfriend before putting away the leftovers and beginning to eat. 

You fell asleep shortly after, leaving Abby to come home to a dark house and her cold meal waiting on the table. 

She brought it to bed with her, which was where she found you fast asleep.

The next morning, you woke up with no sign of Abby except for a note. 

Went in early so I could get home for dinner. 

It was brief, straight to the point, and aggravating. First, she stays after her meetings, and now she leaves early. Of course, you could tell she felt bad about missing dinner, but that was the least of your concerns. 

You were determined to make her just as frustrated as you were. 

That started with a shower. With this new schedule, you’d usually take one with her in the morning, so you didn’t want her to miss out. Which, of course, was why you brought your phone in with you, taking a video that you sent to your girlfriend before turning on music and finishing your shower. 

When Abby’s phone pinged, she knew it was you, as you were the only contact that got through her ‘do not disturb’. She had her co-worker, Manny, stop what they were doing in case it was important. 

When she immediately went red, he laughed loudly. “I take it she’s had enough of this new schedule?” He asked, raising a brow as Abby stared at her screen. “Abby—“

“Huh?” She snapped her head up. “Oh… Uh, she…” She swallowed, quickly thinking of something. “Made my favorite breakfast?”

Manny laughed even more, waving her off. “If you need to get home—“

“No, no, I’ll end up with an even shittier schedule next month.” She took another glance down at her phone before pocketing it. 

When you didn’t get the reply you wanted, you decided to keep going. There was no way she didn’t see it, which meant she was trying to ignore it, and that only egged you on. 

Another ping came from Abby’s phone during a meeting, putting the useless meeting on pause. 

“Sorry,” she said. “Girlfriend’s at home, sick,” she quickly came up with. “I should check if it’s important.” She excused herself when Isaac shooed her away, heading to the bathroom to see what you could’ve possibly sent her now. As soon as she saw the toy on the floor and your thighs on either side she closed the video. 

incoming message abby🤍

You giddily picked up your phone, only to roll your eyes.

that's enough. 

you don’t like it?

Her typing bubble appeared and disappeared several times, making you chuckle as you waited for her to compose herself. When it disappeared for several moments, you gave her a little nudge.

take your time

Almost immediately, she replied.

don’t do that. 

you know what you do to me…

i can’t even watch those right now baby. i won’t be able to focus.

You had a feeling that all she was doing was watching those videos. Especially with how long she took to respond to you.

focus on me then

i need you right now

you know if i could come home i would...

this isn’t fair. 

what isn’t fair?

don’t do this right now. 

Her next message made you smile, knowing you had her wrapped around your finger if she really left a meeting to check what she knew would be a distraction.

i’m in the middle of a meeting. 

Just as she went to put her phone away, it chimed again. 

i missed you this morning abs. 

woke up alone. 

that wasn’t very fair to me. 

Again, she typed and stopped. You figured she was trying not to start something while she was taking a "bathroom break" during a meeting, but you knew she'd never not reply to you.

i’ll make it up to you. 

i have to go now angel. 

but when?

tonight. 

promise. 

i want you now

need you

Her short messages made you squeeze your thighs, knowing she was pent up and forcing herself not to respond the way she wanted to.

baby

come on

i can’t do this right now

So, you took the opportunity to make her have to do this now.

please? nothing makes me feel like you do

i’m so wet and i can’t fucking finish abs.. not without you

i need you

how many times will you make me say it? i’ll beg if you want me too abby please

It took her a little while to respond, making you think she'd either shut off her phone, or you took too long to type and she went back to her meeting.

In reality, she'd gone back some time ago, and was incessantly checking her phone while crossing her legs under the table.

She had the tendency to try and challenge herself, but clearly this— you were too much for her.

fuck okay

i’ll try to get home

just give me a few minutes 

you can wait for me can’t you?

She was quick to tell everyone how you needed her at home, leaving her friends to laugh in their seats as she excused herself while keeping an eye on her phone.

just tell me what to do

you don’t even have to come home

i’ll show you everything 

i’ll be good

be good and wait for me to come home. 

there’s no way i’m letting you touch yourself if i’m not there to watch. 

[seat-safety-switch]

Once in awhile, you can get one over on The Man. Finally, after all these years of toiling under his rule, doing his dirty work, begging for his praise, he has well and truly fucked up. And, it turns out, your entire life has been building up to the moment that you can milk him for all he's worth.

Have you ever seen a Dodge Caliber? They're getting sort of uncommon now, but when they were new, they were pretty hateful cars. Cheap, buzzy, surprisingly uneconomical, steering that felt like telling a funeral home operator how to sign a birthday card over the phone by long distance. And they fell apart all the time. Most cars get repaired, but these things got gleefully shovelled into the junkyard at the first chance the owners got.

Not all of them, though. This is a story about one very special Dodge Caliber. You see, my aunt needed a car. And my aunt is very nervous about owning a car. The skills of shitbox repair never made it into her genes, you see, possibly because she is not related to me by blood. So, in order to get that car, she went to the Dodge dealership, and she asked them: can you do a lifetime warranty, unlimited mileage, no questions asked, cover everything? And they said: for you, ma'am, we absolutely can charge you an obscene, eye-watering amount of money.

Once I found out about this, I was mad. And then I figured it out. You see, what my aunt did have was being insanely cheap. That's why she was a part of my degenerate family. She still is, even though my Uncle Larry exploded that one night at Arecibo. Unlimited mileage. There has never been a sweeter phrase uttered in the English language.

Now, whenever anyone we know needs to go for a long trip, we tell them: take the Caliber. Rack those miles up. Punish those stupid motherfuckers for writing such a terrible, open-ended contract. My aunt runs a taxi service consisting entirely of this vehicle, a fleet of drivers constantly rotating in and out, the thing rolling virtually 24/7. I love driving this car, because every single mile that ticks up on the odometer is more salty tears from the low-wattage pig who thought he was a big-time wheeler and dealer down at Old Time Country Dodge.

To their credit, they figured out the enormous error that they had made fairly quickly. When Aunt Hilda rolled in the thing, smoking and wheezing, for its sixth transmission replacement at eight-hundred-and-fifty-thousand kilometers, they offered to buy it from her and give her a brand new luxury SUV, just for being such a great customer. She laughed, and told them to get started overhauling the Caliber, and don't forget to take a look at the squeaking sound it started making in the back.

When things got real bad during the recession, they tried to go bankrupt, thinking that might get them out from having to maintain this economy car until the sun burns out. Ha! Death won't save you, my friend. My attorney Max picked that one up pro bono, despite hating warranty law, just for the pleasure of watching their attorney read the purchase contract. Her eyes got so big that they stuck that way. The paramedics had to use the jaws of life on her eyelids so she could blink again.

If you see me in the Caliber, make sure to honk. I probably won't stop to say hi, because we gotta keep this odometer rollin'. Rest assured, however, that I will honk back, maybe ten or fifteen times. Really get my money's worth out of that horn.

[saltylandland]

🦇Every Good Girl Needs a Creepy Vamp🦇

Warnings: overstimulation, sex while high, noncon/dubcon, corruption kink (kinda), going off my nsfw headcanons that Paul likes to be degraded for being a creep, reader is in high school but she’s still 18, fem!reader, reader’s not a virgin, uses the term “mama” but reader isn’t pregnant/nor will she become pregnant, I guess this my as well count as yandere, stalking, an obscene amount of cum, I’m talking about A LOT, Paul can make phantom sensations as one of his vampy powers bc why not. Do you ever write something that makes you go ‘oml what the hell did I just write?’, no editing man, I like my men bloody, slutty, and pathetic.

Walking down the sidewalk you turn onto the residential neighbourhood where your family’s home resides. Out of the corner of your eye you spot the same guy. You’ve met him quite a few times on the boardwalk, smoked a joint with him almost every time as well, despite how unnerving you found him at times. But you really couldn’t blame yourself really, having been viewed as a good girl most of your life. Approaching the kids who would be able to get you it was a no go, not only attracting attention by interacting with them in general, you’d have nowhere safe to smoke it without getting caught.

So when you went looking for a possible summer job alone on the boardwalk, your chance came up to you on a golden platter. This new ‘friend’ seems to preen at your attention, not at all frustrated or wary of your shy prude-ness. And not at all aware or at least acknowledging how you only seem to come to him to smoke the devils lettuce.

But who were you to blame really? Upon first meeting you, he’d offer the joint unprompted and in return you’d hang with him until the boardwalk closes. That was your trade as far as you were aware.

As if sensing your eyes on him, he locks eyes with you and takes it as the signal to approach. You lock up a bit, remembering how… close you two have progressed on the boardwalk.

To be truthful you had been avoiding him for just a little bit now, which was easy considering you’d have no reason to go on the boardwalk besides your once in a blue moon shift at a carnival stand. But Paul seemed to have noticed your avoidance, finding him places you’d never expected too, each time a little closer to home.

But it was too late to run now without making it obvious, as Paul meets you with his characteristic non boundaries, practically draping himself across you as greeting.

Before you could think of a backup plan, you had reached your door, luckily you had accidentally left the lights on before you left. Making it seem like your parents were home despite them being a couple states away for work.

You try to think of a way to politely excuse yourself when Paul asks to borrow a lighter, offering to share a joint or two. As tempting as that was, you didn’t want to let him inside, nor did you want the possible smell lingering inside your home and get in trouble, you tell him the latter reason as you inch towards the door.

Paul offers the backyard as an alternative with a glowing smile, mentioning that your parents will know you're there, but you’ll sit away enough that you won’t get caught, and that’s when you give in. Walking into the house to fetch a lighter and ’telling’ your parents about hanging out in the backyard for awhile.

Paul gets settled quickly on the grassy path, pouting slightly when you sit beside him as opposed to on his lap as he eagerly beckons you too. Lighting up quickly he passes the joint to you and you’re quite proud of yourself and how you didn’t cough as you exhaled, welcoming that familiar warmth in your chest and fuzzy feeling crawling in from the back of your head.

Soon enough, Paul was back to his old tricks, hogging the joint and letting you crawl over him to try and get it back. Demanding some sort of reward for each hit you take, mostly little kisses. He’d prefer them on his lips, but he’s patient enough to let you build up to it, going on his forehead, cheek, and chin. Until he captures your chin and plants a kiss on your lips. Next holding you close and dizzying you with the quick succession of kisses.

Ah, this is what he does. His lack of boundaries upping to an eleven and his boldness holds no bounds as he gets high. Using your need for his weed to squeeze as much affection out of you as much as he could. Everytime it was you who stopped before things went too far, but gradually your resolve weakens as you start to crave more. The only thing holding you back was your perceived prudence. You were already pushing past the line with smoking weed, much less with a stranger, but having sex, all of those at once? It was too overwhelming.

Still that ache that often comes with the high, starts pooling in your tummy, letting Paul pull you into his lap despite your better judgement.

Yes, this is exactly what he does. It almost completely mirrors that night on the boardwalk before you started to avoid him.

Goading you on to his lap, holding your lips hostage as he winds you up. So worked up you don’t notice your hips moving, rubbing against his own. Fingers start to trace your body, seemingly seeping through your clothes to touch your skin, despite Paul's actual hands against your waist.

You jumped a bit, looking around to find no one else, the hands remained on your body, trailing against your sensitive breasts and thighs, constantly moving and overlapping with each other.

You had cum on his lap that night, and he tore off your panties just before you had managed to pull away, not seeming to mind the lack of underwear as Paul gave no chase.

In the morning you had woken and after realising you were sans panties, decided to keep your distance from both the boardwalk and him.

The reminder of your stolen panties comes to the forefront of your mind as you flush. And with the weed clouding your normal reserve you ask what happened to them, the grin Paul gives you almost regret your words. “Oh I think you already know huh?” You do know, you know exactly what a boy like him would do with stolen panties but you push anyway. Playing chicken with answers you knew you wouldn’t be able to handle. “Should I? I don’t have a dirty mind like you, you creep.”

You go to move off of him, but he pulls you back with a renewed vigour. “A creep really? Then you’re my good girl right?” Curling his hips upwards, you feel his chubbed up cock against your clothes. Once again you’re wearing a skirt without shorts underneath. You can feel the heat against your core.

“You’re the one I obsess over huh? The one that I climb into trees to get a glimpse of your bare skin? The one that I just can’t help but steal her panties, sniffing her panties so I can come over and over. Still craving her wet pussy all the while?” Smelling your hair makes him groan, his hips stuttering as he bounces you against him as he grinds up to you. “You’re my good girl huh? The one who’ll tease me to get what she needs? The one who’ll rub one out on her bed with her curtains open on the third floor, After getting the fix she needs and running away just as fast?”

Your eyes widen with fear as he reveals more and more intimate details. The more he talks the more it sounds like a confession, and with all the details he provided, you don’t doubt him. Shakily mentioning that you should go back inside, your parents might worry about how late it is. Paul only smiles with that same lazy smile and says oh so casually “I’m sure that won’t be a problem huh? We’ll be quiet enough as to not wake up the next state over.”

Before you start to thrash in his hold, Paul preemptively rolls you over, trapping you in his embrace, grabbing your panties and ripping them off again, this time unashamedly groaning against them as he huffs.

Dragging his hips back and forwards, Paul cums with a moan, his hips digging deeper into your own as he climbs back down, whining into your neck as he overstimulates himself, his pants dampening from his cum as he continues to rock his hips.

Climbing over, straddling your stomach, he pulls out his still hard cock, preening at your attention. He fondles himself as he speaks, cumming over your chest quickly. “I can’t even be satisfied with my hand anymore, can’t even cum with nobody else, I just need you pretty mama.”

With a shuddering moan, he pulls your shoulders down with unnatural ease. He now straddles your chest, as he continues to pump his dick with gross sounding ‘Schlick Schlick Schlick’s. With your panties still pressed up against his nose between words he whines loudly. “Don’t you feel bad for me? That shit you’ve put me through? If you wanted me so bad that you placed a spell on me, all you had to do was -fuck-ing ask”

His tip was an angry red as his hips jerk forward, his voice cracking between pleads and demands. “Uhhhhg fuck just kiss it won’t you? Open your mouth for me baby, you can do it for me, sugar, I know you can.”

Whether intentionally or not (most likely the latter) Paul’s hands snake up from the back of your nape and that makes you gasp lightly. Coincidentally, that is exactly when Paul rocks his hips forward, nearly gagging you on his girth as he slips forward with a guttural cry. “Fuck-fuck me sugar, like that, yea just… like that.”

Bowing over you, Paul keeps you in that position as he humps your mouth with very small movements, trying to stop his orgasm just yet. Only to cum in the back of your throat as he thrust in fully. His cries getting pitchier as he seems to overstimulate himself more, dragging himself on your tongue as you struggle not to choke on his cum.

Completely overwhelmed by the situation at hand, but your body seems to decide for you, that familiar ache of need that follows you whenever you get high has hit full force. Not being able to do anything about it has you squirming.

Pulling you away by your hair, he taunts you with misplaced smugness. “Fuck that’s so hot, you’re a natural you know that? Look how hard you make me” grabbing at your shirt he shreds it down the middle, grabbing at your tits like a tween boy. “There’s those beautiful tits.”

Familiarly, what feels like multiple hands start to grab at your body tenderly, looking around only shows nothing but the feeling is still there. Pawing at your neglected pussy, a hand gently spreads open your lips to the cold air, another teases at your clit and another starts to prep you open. The hands seem to work in tandem, so close together that they should be overlapping but that does nothing to deter their work.

Squishing your tits around his dick, he slides his dick between them as he watches your facial expressions knowingly. He quickly cums again, bending over to lick your face where his cum had covered as he continued to hump.

Pulling back by your hair he directs you back to his still throbbing erection. “Last time was cute, but suck like you really mean it this time yea? Don’t make me do all the work.” Giving you little time to even process that demand he goes to fuck your mouth again, a bit harder and with a lot less grace. Moaning around his dick, the hand prepping you slides in with two fingers. This time he seems to last longer, with a voice slowly becoming less human sounding he moans unabashedly “you’re doing so well for me, mama, fuck.” Pulling out suddenly, he cums on your chest, just as you were about to cum on the fingers, his seed catching on your open mouth as you pant.

The hands didn’t stop, nor did Paul as he tapped his still hard dick against your tongue. Very slowly moving down your body, he watches your body clench around nothing as if he knew what was going down.

“Stop looking you fucking creEP AH” another finger slips in as more hands cup your tits, toying with the sensitive nips as Paul kisses down your body with a gutteral hum. “Perfect mama, keep calling me that, sayin’ it like that. I’ll show you just how much I crave it.”

His dick slides against your clit, as the hand continues harshly. Rubbing gently at first but then a bit harder, a bit faster, watching you keen.

Pulling your legs over his shoulders as he keeps your thighs closed, Paul once again chases another climax with your thighs as you cum again against this invisible force.

Put still, nothing stops, not until Paul comes on your chest, licking up his cum and chasing down your mouth as he tongue fucks your own.

Kissing slowly down as he crawls in between your thighs, he gives a slow lick to your gushing cunt as you squeal. The warm, wet, and slimy tongue savouring your cum as if it was the best thing to eat. He lets the hands do most of the work, choosing to either watch from above you he makes an even bigger mess of himself, wiping your wet pussy with your panties to sniff. Or he licks you slowly, nursing on your clit with a patience you didn’t think he possessed.

But he was determined to make you cum more than he did, which was a feat in itself. Slowly, the invisible hands around your sensitive pussy faded away, leaving you gasping for breath and tired as hell. But Paul makes himself still very much apparent as he uses his palm to smack on your cunt a few times. Embarrassingly, soaking it as he did so.

Gathering your weak limbs, Paul slipped in easily, convincing himself that you were obviously made for him, not acknowledging how he made you this way. Instead preferring his delusions that you were perfect, just for him, as soon as he saw you on the boardwalk.

Wasting no time at all, Paul starts a punishing pace, meanly pinching at your teased nipples and smacking against your clit as you gush around him.

With weak arms you push at his chest, but he easily bats those away as he curls over you, giving you sweet little kisses as he rearranges your guts. Contrasted with the downright disgusting noises he makes as he moans unabashedly, his hips making loud clapping and squelching noises.

You cum around his cock but just as you were expecting he would, he pushes past your orgasm to chase the next one, making you outwardly cry from the overstimulation, barely making any noise as you pant from exhaustion. Paul only kisses up your tears, further silencing your moans as he tongue fucks your mouth.

After quickening up his pace you knew he’d be cumming soon, squirming under him, you really didn’t want to pay for plan b, but he isn’t moved so easily, pulling you back by your hips as he gasps, his forehead resting on your sternum. Just as you had predicted, his cum gushed into your spent cunt and you prayed that he would tucker himself out finally, but apparently god was determined to get your back broken, and so was Paul.

Hiking up your thighs over his own, your pelvis now elevated as your head still rests on the dirty ground, Paul starts to fuck you slower, but harder then before. Pushing up your shirt and bunching up your skirt at your waist, Paul all but salvates over them, laughing as he watches you try to cover them up embarrassed. Holding on to your forearms he uses them as leverage to fuck you deeper, making you cry out lewdly.

Time passes as Paul stays attached to you like a leech, and you start to wonder if he’ll ever let up. Swapping to different positions, trying to find the one he likes the best, but he just can’t seem to make up his mind as he fucks you over and over. Your only peace comes and you barely miss it but as a voice calls out, Paul slows down just enough. Dazed as all hell, you watch as Paul turns his head to regard the newcomers casually, not bothering to cover either of you up nor stop his menstrations.

You can barely understand the conversation but it seems to upset Paul, as he tightens his grip and growls, he fucking growls. And even more embarrassingly, the growl sends vibrations against you, making you mewl loudly. And that was met with whistles and chuckles, as Paul turns back to you to look at you adoringly.

The one who was mainly talking clears his throat, saying one last comment and despite the fact you expected Paul to pull away, instead he turns around and goes back to fucking you, turning your body sideways to where the three boys now stood. With one leg on his shoulder, he throws comments to the boys that you can’t process. It took two shuddering almost painful orgasms of yours until Paul came again. With no signs of stopping the two boys who kept quiet had to wrestle Paul off of you.

He growled, hissed, and made spitting noises like a cornered cat. But he eventually regained himself enough where they let him go. Allowing him to say goodbye, he crawls up to you again, using your panties to wipe both of your frothed up cum that spread onto your legs and abdomen, pocketing them and carrying you into your room through your open window.

Kissing you slowly he searches your room, for a keepsake or two as he looks for a pen. Grabbing your arm gently, he writes on your arm instructions before he kisses you again, tucks you into bed, locks up the window he just broke into, and lets himself out through the front door. Picklocking it closed behind him.

‘When you can move again, meet me at the boardwalk or I’ll come to you ❤️’ -Paul

[weemssapphic]

Hi! I love your stories! Could you write a story about Larissa Weems and a University Student reader? Something 18+. They do the deed in an art museum restroom and the reader gets caught by their classmates because they still have lipstick stains on their neck. Thanks :3

hello! thank you for the compliment! 🥰 so very sorry that this has been rotting in my inbox for an obscenely long amount of time, my brain for some reason really did not want me to get this done 😣 i hope it's at least halfway decent to make up for that!

thank you to @afeatherformills for the beta-read <3

warnings/content: nsfw, age gap (reader is 18+), cunnilingus/fingering (reader receiving), praise kink, marking kink

words: ~3k

Lipstick Stains

next chapter | series page

“I’ll meet you guys back here soon okay?”

“Sure, just text us when you’re done,” Robin replied, threading her fingers through Christin’s and turning to lead her into an exhibit on modern art. Cassandra offered you a smile and trailed behind them, leaving you to your own devices.

You weaved your way through the throngs of tourists crowding at the entrance, all still deciding which way to go. You’d been here often enough to know the floor plan by heart, knowing which exhibits would be the most crowded on Saturdays. You also knew that your favorite exhibit would be deliciously empty, as almost no one wandered that far back into the museum. 

You settled on a bench in front of an ancient Greek sculpture and pulled your sketchbook from your bag, thumbing through it until you found a blank page, and began to sketch, the world around you fading slowly until it was only static in the background.

“Exquisite, isn’t it?” A low voice in your left ear made you jump, your stomach dropping as if you’d just hit the peak of a roller coaster, your heart skipping a beat. In your art-induced daze, you hadn’t even heard anyone else enter the exhibit.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You twisted in your seat to find the source of the interruption: a statuesque blonde towering over your shoulder. A smirk graced her crimson lips as your eyes raked over her shapely form, pausing for a moment on their upward journey at her hips before moving higher and, finally, making eye contact.

“It’s fine,” you murmured, clenching your fingers tightly around your pencil as you worked to get your racing heartbeat under control.

“Larissa,” the woman introduced herself and you noticed that she spoke in a lilting English accent. Her voice had a soothing quality to it, calming you almost instantly.

Larissa. A beautiful name for a beautiful stranger. You smiled at that, heart fluttering at the smile you received in return.

“Y/N.” 

“Would you care for some company, Y/N?” Normally, you would say no to such a request, prioritizing your alone time over small talk with strangers. But something about her had you absolutely mesmerized and before you knew what you were doing, you were nodding and the woman was sitting down next to you. She was so close that you could smell her perfume - notes of jasmine and rose, floral and decidedly feminine.

“Keep working,” she encouraged, seeming to notice your hesitation as you watched her. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you turned reluctantly back to your sketch and traced along the paper. Now it was as if your entire body was prickling with electricity at this mysterious stranger’s presence, your nerves alive and burning.

You stole a glance to your left, marveling at how put-together she looked - silver curls done up in an elaborate updo, drawing attention to her long neck and the smooth planes of her rosy cheekbones, eyes the deepest shade of blue you’d ever seen, framed by mascara-coated lashes that brushed against her cheeks when she blinked, lips a bright shade of red, parted ever so slightly as she as she admired the statue you were sketching.

You wondered briefly if you should flip to a new page and start to sketch her when her eyes shifted over to you, trapping you in her gaze, and the world around you stilled. A heavy blush crept up your cheeks and you couldn’t take it anymore, dropping your gaze back to your sketchbook. 

“I have to admit I was surprised to see someone else back here, it’s my favorite exhibit and it’s not often I run into anyone here.” Larissa crossed her legs as she spoke, long legs that seemed to stretch on for miles, and you had trouble tearing your eyes away from them.

“Then I’m surprised we haven’t met sooner, I come here a lot. I like it back here, it’s quiet.”

“You’re here alone?” There was an edge to the woman’s voice, something darker swimming in her eyes as she leaned towards you.

“Uh, sort of? My friends are off somewhere, I’m not meeting them until later.” You squinted slightly, trying to discern the woman’s intentions, but she leaned back again, a satisfied smile gracing her lips, any edge she’d previously had dissipating in an instant.

Somewhere between outlining the Greek statue and your conversation with Larissa, you realized you’d begun to sketch her instead, the silhouette of her body slowly taking shape under the tip of your pencil.

“What are you working on?” Larissa tilted her head towards yours, her breath warm on your cheek as she peered at your drawing. The sudden invasion of your space made your cheeks heat and your pulse skyrocket. Her perfume was overwhelming now, it filled your nostrils and clouded your senses, making you dizzy.

You hesitated for a moment - after all, this woman was just a stranger, and being caught sketching her could end up very embarrassing for you. Something about her curiosity and openness, and your intoxication by her sudden proximity, won out though, and you pushed your sketchbook over for her to see. “Just an assignment for class. I’m an art major,” you supplied.

Larissa traced a long, manicured finger over the sketch, humming her appreciation, the vibrations clinging to the air between the two of you. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you staring earlier,” Larissa murmured, lips pulling into a smirk as she raised her gaze to meet yours. You were a kid with your hand caught in the cookie jar, until -

A warm hand on your thigh.

A quirk of a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

It was as if your ears were ringing and the air around you was thick and all you could do was wonder if Larissa felt it too.

Larissa’s eyes darkened as she hovered over you, lips parting as she waited for you to close the distance, your faces mere inches apart. You hesitated only for a second before crashing your lips into hers, whining at how Larissa’s tongue swiped almost instantly at your lower lip. Your sketchbook and pencil clattered to the floor as Larissa’s hands came to your waist and pulled you towards her, shifting you onto her lap to straddle her thighs. 

“Is this okay?” She murmured into your mouth between kisses, breath ghosting over your face.

“Yes,” you sighed, not caring that you sounded more than a little needy as you wrapped your arms around her neck, enjoying the feeling of her palms settling on your hips.

The kisses became hotter, more desperate, and you found yourself beginning to search for a bit of friction as you ground your pelvis onto Larissa’s thighs. She moaned into your mouth and dug the pads of her fingers into your hips, pushing you down onto her lap.

You found a steady rhythm, rolling your hips and getting decent friction from the seam of your jeans, but it wasn’t enough, and it soon left you growling in frustration as the coil behind your navel wound tighter and tighter but found no release. 

Larissa let out a breathy chuckle and moved her lips to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe before whispering, “let me take care of that for you.”

She lifted you carefully off her lap and motioned for you to gather your things - of course you did as you were told, you couldn’t possibly refuse this woman - and then led you expertly down several hallways, avoiding crowds converging at different exhibits before stopping at the restrooms.

Larissa pulled you into one of the restrooms, swiftly locking the door behind you before latching her lips onto yours in a heated kiss and pushing you back into the sink. Larissa’s body pressed into yours, your hands pulling at her waist. Her tongue swiped at your lips, begging for entry, and you conceded, allowing her to explore the contours of your mouth. Her hands came up to thread themselves in your hair, tugging lightly as her fingernails scratched at your scalp. 

She pressed a plethora of open-mouthed kisses down the column of your neck, swirling her tongue along the skin there. As she got to your collarbone, she began to nip and suck at your skin, hard enough to leave a bruise, then soothing her tongue over the little red mark. Her head dipped into your cleavage, nibbling at the soft flesh barely exposed above your shirt, eliciting a low whine from your throat.

Larissa pulled back at the sound, peering up at you. No one had ever looked at you with such unadulterated hunger before, and it unnerved you. Your heart thundered aggressively against your ribcage, so loudly you were sure she could hear it as well. 

A fire had been started behind your navel and was radiating outward, setting your whole body ablaze. 

“Larissa…” A wetness pooled between the apex of your thighs and you clenched them together.

“You look absolutely divine,” Larissa growled before her lips hungrily crashed back into yours. Her hands settled on your waist, tugging you closer, though they didn’t stay there for long before they began to wander. Her left hand came up to cup your breast, giving it a squeeze through the fabric of your shirt as her right hand wandered down to your jeans, her slender fingers tracing the button in question. 

“May I?” She muttered against your lips, voice low and dripping with desire. You nodded into the kiss, your fingers coming to your pants to assist with the process.

With your jeans around your ankles, Larissa’s fingers grazed over your underwear and she let out a sinful moan at the wet patch she found there.

“All this for me, and I haven’t even touched you yet?” She looked at you with humor in her eyes, a smirk passing her lips as she began to kiss down your neck again, moving down your body and pulling your underwear down with her, allowing you to kick them off and to the side.

“Let me get a taste of you, darling, hmm? I bet you taste so good.”

Larissa swiped two fingers lightly through your folds, nearly causing your knees to buckle at the unexpected touch. She brought the digits to her mouth and slowly, obscenely swirled her tongue around them to taste your juices, moaning and gazing up at you through her eyelashes. You gulped audibly, trying to clench your thighs together to keep your arousal from dripping down your legs, but Larissa’s hands came to your knees to force your legs open.

“Ah-ah, let me see that pretty pussy of yours.” You blushed crimson at her words, trying to look away, but a hand on your arm made you look down. Larissa looked at you with such kind sincerity in her eyes. “There’s no need to be embarrassed, darling. You’re beautiful.” The words didn’t help with your blush, but you held her gaze this time and relished in her smile as she turned her attention back to the throbbing ache between your legs.

Heat pooled in your stomach as Larissa dragged her nails down your thighs, placing her tongue at your entrance and trailing it slowly towards your throbbing clit. Her tongue began to circle the sensitive nub and a pitiful whimper clawed its way out of your throat. You were so close already, your excitement beginning to trickle down the inside of your thighs.

Your cunt was aching, wanting - needing - more. You clutched at the sink behind you, white knuckled, pressing your hips forward, anything to get Larissa’s mouth closer, anything to get more.

Larissa hooked your calf over her shoulder to get a better angle, groaning as your pussy opened up for her. She placed her hands on your hips to hold you in place, her nails digging little half-moon crescents into the tender flesh there. Your entire body felt ablaze under her touch, you felt almost feverish as she flattened her tongue against your slit, lapping up the juices that flowed freely.

“Fuck - Larissa,” you groaned as you began to grind your hips into Larissa’s mouth, chest heaving.

One of Larissa’s hands left your hips and you gasped as cool fingers brushed against your center. The action only served to stoke the embers in the pit of your stomach and you moaned as a single digit sank into your hole halfway, pulled back out, then sank in again, further this time, slowly, all whilst her tongue ravished your clit.

A second finger soon followed and you met your hips in time with the thrusts of her fingers, unable to take your eyes off the goddess kneeling before you. A particularly loud moan fell from her lips and vibrated against your center, all but forcing you to slam your thighs shut around her head at the sensation.

“I-I’m s-so close,” you gasped, biting into your bottom lip to keep from crying out as Larissa picked up her pace inside of you, curling her fingers into the spongy spot that had you tensing up and seeing stars behind your eyes. Her tongue latched onto your clit, sucking feverishly as shockwaves began to rack your body.

“That’s it,” Larissa cooed, her lips brushing against the hood of your clit and causing your walls to clench around her fingers. “Be a good girl for me and come,” Larissa’s voice dropped several octaves as she dragged her fingers in and out of your cunt.

Maybe it was the “good girl” that did you in. Or maybe it was just the fact that Larissa was good, really, really good, at what she was doing. But come you did.

Your thrusts became more erratic as you rode Larissa’s face, reaching your high on her tongue as your world exploded around you, vulgar moans dripping from your lips. Larissa carried you through it, lapping up every drop of your essence that poured out of you, tongue flicking languidly at your clit to bring you gently back down to earth.

For a moment everything was still, your leg still hooked over Larissa’s shoulder as she held you in place. She pulled her fingers out of you, slowly and ever so gently, and you mewled at the loss of contact, which earned you a kiss to the inside of your thigh.

Larissa cleaned you up with her tongue, taking her time to explore your inner thighs and your swollen sex. She peppered your mound with kisses, then the tender flesh of your belly, the swell of your breasts, your clavicle, your throat, your jaw - her lips hovered over yours for a moment before finally making contact, though this kiss was nothing like the rest. It was slow and sweet, tender even, and you could taste yourself on her tongue.

“You did so well for me,” she praised against your lips, her hand coming to cup your cheek, thumb gently stroking the flushed skin there.

As you pulled on your now-ruined panties and your jeans, Larissa stood in front of the mirror, washing her hands, redoing her lipstick, and adjusting a few bobby pins that had come loose in her hair. 

“Will I see you again?” you murmured hesitantly, a bit pathetically, half-hoping that maybe she’d spare you the embarrassment of rejection and would pretend she didn’t hear you. 

To your surprise, she grinned and held her palm out to you. At your quizzical gaze, she chuckled and said “your phone.” 

You quickly handed her your phone and she added herself as a contact, before handing you back said phone and moving to the restroom door.

“Now, I really must get back to work, but do call me sometime.”

Larissa paused, eyes raking hungrily over your body. They stopped for a moment at your neck and a dark smirk crossed her face, a low hum of approval leaving her throat. 

You felt utterly exposed under her gaze, short of breath, thighs clenched together tightly with want. Your heart pounded in your chest at the nod Larissa gave you, cool, almost professional, and in an instant she was gone, the door closing behind her. You steadied yourself on the counter, avoiding your own gaze in the mirror as you caught your breath.

Maybe, if you had bothered to look at yourself in the mirror, you’d have seen the many lipstick stains down the column of your neck that had been left during your little rendezvous, no doubt the thing that had left Larissa smirking at you before leaving you high and dry. 

Alright, breathe. You’ll just find your friends, they’ll never realize you were gone. You checked your phone, 5:54pm. Shit, almost time to go. Without sparing yourself another glance (wrong move), you tucked your hair behind your ear, slung your bag over your shoulder and ran out of the restroom and straight into Cassandra. 

“Hey, what gives? We spent half the afternoon looking for you!” Her eyes narrowed accusingly, then traveled down your neck, widening comically as her jaw dropped. 

“Y/N, what were you doing in there?!” She shrieked. 

“W-what do you mean?” You stuttered, your beet-red face giving you away (as if the lipstick stains and blooming hickeys on your chest hadn’t already). 

“You’re covered in lipstick,” Cassandra hissed, not caring that several tourists were looking curiously at the pair of you as they passed.

“I’m… I’m what?” You pulled out your phone, turning on the front camera to examine yourself and groaning when you saw the marks dotting the front of your neck and chest. “Larissa,” you whined.

“Who’s Larissa? She the one who gave you those hickeys?” Robin and Christin chose that moment to sneak up on the two of you, Robin slinging an arm around your shoulder and grinning down at you. Your blush extended to the tips of your ears and you swatted her arm away, huffing in embarrassment.

“So I say we order pizza tonight and Y/N tells us alllll about her afternoon with Larissa,” Christin teased. 

You turned away from your friend’s laughter, looking distractedly across the main hall of the museum as you tried to cool your blush. A group of tourists passed the front desk and you looked past them, your gaze falling to a familiar tall blonde passing through the exit. Larissa looked up at that moment and your eyes locked from across the room. Red lips stretched into a devious smile, and just like that she ducked through the door, vanishing from sight.

[mothandpidgeon]

Southpaw (Dieter Bravo drabble)

Character: Dieter Bravo

Summary: After an accident leaves Dieter without the use of a hand, he becomes acquainted with the other.

Words: 600

Rating: E 18+

Warnings: masturbation

a/n: I was inspired by @iamskyereads’s fantastic fic Repose which was inspired by Pedro’s injury to write a little drabble about another injured Pedro boy. Not quite sure what this is but I guess I was also inspired by Bob Belcher talking to his Thanksgiving turkey.

As always thanks to number one Dieter stan @ezrasbirdie for the lil beta.

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Dieter is a lefty. Sure, he signs autographs with his right hand, brushes his teeth, scrolls his phone. But when it comes to the most important pursuit, he uses his left. He’s not sure when it started or why but he’s always enjoyed the tender touch of his left hand.

So when a yoga accident leaves his left wrist in a splint, Dieter is inconsolable. The doctor gives him strict instructions to keep the appendage still. No exercise, no lifting, no vigorous activity. His agent says that he might be recast in his upcoming role since his injury is jeopardizing the entire shooting schedule. Dieter could care less. He’s devastated that he’s lost his most loyal companion, even temporarily.

His cock hasn’t gotten the memo. Duty calls and he’s all alone with a tent in his pants. Whether he likes it or not, the show must go on and the understudy will have to perform.

He admires his right hand for a while. His nails are manicured nicely. Same wide palm and thick fingers as the left. There’s no reason why Righty shouldn’t be up to the task.

He tries it— timid, the grip around him unfamiliar. The hand holds him with a sureness he wasn’t expecting. It makes him blush, a boyish excitement. His thumb swipes mischievously through a strand of precum that’s sliding its way down his length. Dieter shivers. Maybe there’s something to this frisky right hand.

Feeling his own hard cock in a new fist is different too. He takes the time to notice its slight curve, the veins. There’s a good amount of thickness. It throbs— needy, impatient. Dieter douses himself with lube and settles in.

The first tug is too rough. Dieter hisses and his useless left hand scrunches into a fist. If only it could step in and take over. The left has done this so much, it’s second nature. Now all it can do is watch.

He shakes it off.

Dieter tries a gentler approach. Soft, teasing touches that make him dizzy. It’s hardly enough, though. At this rate, he’ll edge himself for hours.

The work is clumsy at first but he finds a rhythm after testing out languid pulls and rapid pulses. The thrust of his slick hand makes a sloppy sort of music. He starts to put his apprehensions aside and really enjoy himself.

Just like that.

It feels like a stranger is touching him and what a handsome one he is. When he closes his eyes, it could be anybody down there. A mouth, a cunt, anything he’d like to fuck. He flips through a catalogue of obscenities in his mind, each one leaving him hotter than the next.

The sensation is exquisite. He’s fucking his own hand, hips lifting as he babbles nonsense about how it takes it so good. Pleasure drowns him as his right hand moves faster by a will of its very own. He can feel his cock begin to twitch and pulse in his palm. Overwhelmed and possessed, he moans and bucks and soon he’s spurting all over Righty. The left must be jealous.

As his muscles unwind, his hand slows. He can hardly stop it and, had he use of the other, he might grab himself by the wrist. He’s too sensitive and each caress makes him gasp. His over eager right hand isn’t ready to call it quits.

Dieter’s head falls back. His heart slows. He examines the sticky spend between his fingers, still shining with lube. His new friend, his right hand man.

Let’s get you cleaned up.

They’ve got work to do.

---

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[mxr1na]

✧˖°ʚ🍵ɞ♡Sicktember Day 1[I’m not hungover, I’m just sick]Jeckole Angst- Class of ‘09✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡

A/N: Day 1 of @sicktember’s 2024 Event! I really had fun doing this even though it was a time crunch cause I was just aware of the event like yesterday, but it’s fine. 🌊🫧Info!🫧🌊 730~ words

Inadequate writing lol

See here! to participate in the Sicktember event!

See here! to find all my Sicketmber works!

Tw!- Heavy swearing, drug abuse + mention of vomit. Viewer discretion is advised.

Enjoy ^^

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ “Bitch why the fuck you haven’t been answering my calls? I know you don’t want to do the project, but I need this to graduate high school-” 

Jecka slams open Nicole’s bedroom door, an obscene amount of annoyance washed away as she spots the brunette rotting in her bed in the humid room, which feels like being in a gym locker room.

Somehow, Nicole still looks appealing to the male demographic even if she is sickly pale with eyebags so deep you could’ve mistaken them for potholes.

She coughs, and smiles wanly at her. “Hey Jecka,”

“Oh shit are you okay?” Immediately at Nicole’s side, Jecka looks at her, feeling the creases and wrinkles under Nicole’s eyes. Her ebbing annoyance spikes up again.

“Ugh, did you try that MySpace challenge, the one where they’d snort a foot long line of whatever drug they could find? You know people actually died from that shit right?”

“When did you keep up with the news? No, I’m just down with the flu. I’m not that crazy,”

“The Spanish Flu?! Yeah right, don’t fucking lie to me. No one looks this bad when having the flu. Where’s the stash?” 

“Well I am!” Nicole snaps. “I get sick easily.I’ve been convulsing and throwing up for hours, couldn’t you tell?” She points to the evident putrid vomit bucket, almost filled to the brim with puke beside the bed. 

“Ew, shouldn’t your mom, like, empty that?” Jecka scrunches up her face.

“No, she’s too busy stocking up her medicine cabinet with beta blocker to care… Speaking of, can you get me some Paracetamol from there? Everywhere hurts like hell,” 

Jecka sighs “Knowing you, you’d probably mix it with bedside stash of Xanax, crush it up and snort it, so no, stay hurting like hell,”

“Fuck you, whore,”

Jecka rolls her eyes and sits down on the side of the bed. 

“That being said, I’m really concerned about you Nicole. This life isn't good for you…”

“Who are you? My friend or a guidance counsellor that isn’t trying to fuck me?”

“Okay you know what? Fuck you, I’ll just tell you straight. You’re fucked up and need help, and not even the cool sexy way that people fantasise about. The way people are being put in the mental asylum fucked up. And I’m sorry I can’t be like you, or even want to be like you, bu-” 

“Oh don’t make me laugh. We’ve popped percs and have done drugs together, don’t act all high and mighty now, when you yourself is as bad as I am,”

Jecka hesitates, scrambling her brain to say something as equally smart as her statement only 10 seconds ago.

“Well- atleast I don’t take the illegal shit, just fucking around with kid stuff to blow off some steam! You know, the ones that literally every high schooler would take in high school?”

“Oh, just because what I use is illegal makes me worse than you huh? The outcome is the same, isn’t it? The reason we take it is the same, is it not? Using it to get off some steam. So when I use an alternative you don’t like, then, I’m in the wrong?” Nicole’s face is manic, insane, testing Jecka’s will to not just bend her back over to agree with Nicole, like she usually does.

“Stop trying to act all philosophical and shit to guilt me into agreeing with you. I’m just trying to help,” A tentative step backwards. Look at you Jecka! Making progress!

“I don’t need your fucking help Jessica.” Nicole chucks the bucket at Jecka, who swiftly dodges it, all but some vomit finding its new home on her shirt. 

After that, she just…

Snaps.

Jecka shoves Nicole, making her hit the headboard, earning a bunch of her hair being roughly pulled, almost ensuring her to be left with a bald patch on her scalp.

“What, the FUCK NICOLE? I WANT TO HELP BECAUSE WE ARE  FRIENDS! WHAT, JUST BECAUSE I’LL BEND MY BACK OVER FOR MOST THINGS YOU ASK ME TO DO MAKES ME YOUR LITTLE PLAYTHING? YOU’RE FUCKED UP AND NEED TO BE LOCKED UP!”

“I DONT NEED YOUR HELP, AND I NEVER DID. JUST FUCK OFF!”

Ouch. That must’ve stung. But if it hurt Jecka, no evidence of it showed on her face.

“OKAY I WILL” Jecka slams the door shut, a gross trail of footprints tailing behind her.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Mxr1na 2024. Do NOT copy, rewrite or claim work as your own. If you see my work elsewhere, please send an ask :3

[ms--lobotomy]

Hello🌹 I am glad to see the addition of writers to the Warhammer fandom. Obscenity with primarchs is fine🫶🏻 Can I do something with Sanguine (or are you writing for everyone at once? in general, here it will be more convenient for you)) that meme: the reader – "I have done nothing wrong in my life"; the primarch – "I know this and I love you." But the reader did something like that🤭

hello! o/ of course i can write something either way! ill write something with sanguinius because i like him a lot. i am normal about him. i am normal about him. i am normal about h (feel free to add more asks if youre into my writing style lol)

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word count: 999

content warnings: slight mention of colonialism but like you're into 40k so what did you expect

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You giggled to yourself, your legs dangling off of the Primarch’s bed. It was far too large for you, and frankly far too large for him as well. The weighted blanket under you was comically large, and the mattress you sat upon yielded slightly to your form. The bed was perfect, as was the man you loved so dearly. And outside the window of the Red Tear, a temperate planet spun ever so slowly. Its white sun cast a shadow enveloping half of the planet in darkness. It was almost peaceful here, in the outer atmosphere of this strange new planet.

And you know what you did.

In your defense, you had found it hilarious. In concept, at the very least. You'd scoured the ship for feathers large and pale enough to come from your lover, and once you'd found enough (and learned how to pull off tricks that required some slight of hand) you'd gone to your lover, an ornate leather bag draped over you. The clasp on this bag was undone, but you doubt your lover would have noticed. And when you saw him, you ran towards him at a full sprint. He noticed you slightly after, his blood-red eyes widening.

"Sanguinius, my love!" you exclaimed, wrapping your arms around his cold armor.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, saying your name with the amount of care you'd come to expect from your lover. "What do you come to me about?" he asked, pushing your arms off of him. He knelt down to put his heavy arms around you for a few seconds, and you melted into his touch.

He pulled away and took your hands in his. His hands enveloped yours, you were just over half his size after all. Oh dear, you thought, not wanting to be the first one to pull away from this gesture. The Brightest One had often been one to initiate romantic gestures, and you hated pulling away. But this wasn't your first time pulling away.

"I just wanted to talk to you," you said. Without thinking, you pursed your lips before they went back to normal. As normal as a giddy smile was, at least.

"Talk to me," the primarch repeated. "Hmm. Well, talk away."

The two of you started a conversation about the... weather of the planet. How exciting. While he looked vaguely in your direction, you'd dropped a feather on the ground. Then another. You responded to his idle chatter about the planet below the Red Tear. Yes, it would be a wonderful addition to the Imperium of Man. Then you dropped a few more feathers onto the cold metal ground.

Finally, you looked down at... his feathers? Your feathers? They were far enough from you that it could have been plausible that they had come from the primarch.

"Oh, Sanguinius! You're molting!" you exclaimed in terror, a pile of feathers now at Sanguinius's feet.

"I'm... molting,'' Sanguinius replied softly, bending down to the floor and picking up a feather. He looked back at you, his expression greatly changed.

The dread on his face made yours flush. Oh no, you thought to yourself, wringing out your hands in front of you. What did I just do? Without thinking, you turned tail and ran off. You knew the Red Tear well enough now that you only made one misstep before fumbling with the doorknob that was way too high for you and running onto that bed.

You giggled to yourself. A nervous giggle.

And you heard footsteps. You've heard primarch footsteps before, as Sanguinius was not one to shy away from showing you off to his brothers. His were rather light as far as they went, though, as you couldn't unhear the thud. thud. thud. that they produced. You couldn't help but feel your heart fall in your chest; you didn't yet know how he would respond to this.

And then you heard the door open, an agonizingly slow creak. "My darling?" you heard an all too familiar voice ask softly. "Are you in here?"

You grabbed the weighted blanket underneath you. You contemplated whether to say something, but not a second later, his eyes darted towards you. The door swung open, and the primarch folded in his wings to fit through the door. "Ah, hello there," he said with a hint of relief in his voice. You could see his wings relaxing behind him.

"Hello, dear," you replied. Your stomach turned. You stared at him, trying to discern if he was angry, or scared, or a combination of the two. But his placid expression matched neither of those descriptions. He sat next to you on his bed, putting an arm around you. You let go of the blanket.

"Is everything alright?" he asked. No hint of anger or fear in his voice.

"I am," you replied softly. You looked up at him. "You're... you're not actually molting, by the way."

Sanguinius laughed, tossing his head back as he did so. His golden hair fell softly over his shoulders. He had a laugh that was contagious, as a little bit of a chuckle escaped your lips as well. His golden armor shifted as he moved, kept pristine no matter how many battles the primarch saw. "I figured that out a little bit ago," he replied. "It is going to take more than that to convince me for more than a few seconds."

The corners of your mouth quirked up. You looked back up at him, and saw a radiant smile dusting his face as well. "You have done nothing wrong, ever, in your life," he said.

"I have done nothing wrong, ever, in my life," you repeated with a relieved laugh. You looked down and away from him, rubbing your limp arm with your hand. Another chuckle escaped your lips.

"I know this," responded Sanguinius, his hand trailing down to your waist. Cold metal brushed against your skin, and you let out a small shiver at his touch. "And I love you."

[russellrustles]

Game Night - c. leclerc

a/n: just a little something to get back into writing! This is mainly fueled by my current obsession with horror games. Maybe this counts as an early Halloween fic?

warnings: just a light dash of occasional swearing

word count: 2.3k

summary: for some extra entertainment, you decide to make your regular game night a little more spooky, and Charles is determined to prove that he’s not the only one feeling unnerved.

masterlist

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“You ready?” Charles asks, dramatically flopping down next to you on the sofa and throwing the Xbox controller at you. He’s quick to sprawl out across the majority of the sofa, reaching for a blanket that’s thrown over the back of it and snuggling up amongst all the pillows.

“I will be once I have enough room to sit here without falling off,” you reply, and he looks over at you with a confused expression before realising that you’re sitting with your legs tucked against your body right on the edge of the sofa. He gasps quietly and then breaks into a laugh, now aware that his attempts to get comfortable have resulted in you nearly landing on your ass on the floor. 

“My bad - come here,” he apologises, shifting over to the side a little and reaching over to pull you down until you’re lying down next to him, neatly tucked against his body. You give an incoherent little mumble of approval before resting your head on his chest and grabbing the hem of his t-shirt to have something to fiddle with. 

Charles gently picks up your hand and guides it to his cheek instead, quietly saying something along the lines of, “Darling, you’ll wear out all my shirts if you keep picking at the loose strings.”

You respond with a stubborn hmph but settle on running your thumb along his cheekbone. 

He grabs the controller again, pressing a few buttons and turning on the game. The two of you usually prefer more light-hearted, multiplayer games for your game nights, most commonly something like Mario Kart that leaves the two of you hurling jocular obscenities at each other, but after some discussion you had decided that it’s finally time to switch it up a little and play a horror game. 

In preparation for the game, you’ve already turned off every light in the house and shut all the curtains - if you’re going to be scaring yourselves, then you have to go full-out, just for that extra credit.

“So, like, how are we going to do this if it’s single-player?” Charles asks, starting a new game and placing the controller down as the loading screen comes on.

You ponder over the matter for a second, before conceding, “We’ll just swap every now and again.” He gives a small hum of agreement, idly running his fingers through your hair whilst waiting. Sighing contentedly, you embrace the moment of intimacy before his hand leaves your hair and picks up the controller once again despite your weak protests. 

Neither of you have played this particular game before, only having read the description and watched a short trailer for it, and you’ve persistently nagged Charles not to read or watch anything more about it in order not to spoil anything for tonight. 

“Are you sure about this?” he laughs quietly, selecting a new save file and causing another somber loading screen to appear on the TV. You nod confidently, determined not to chicken out tonight and to fully finish the game - whether Charles would stick around for the entire duration of it is another matter. 

He’s not a wimp by any means - for Christ’s sake, his entire job revolves around him doing stuff that requires an insane amount of bravery - but sometimes when it’s just the two of you and he feels like he can show a bit more vulnerability he’s quick to cuddle up to you or tuck himself under a pile of blankets if there’s a particularly bone-chilling scene in a movie. However, you don’t really have the right to mock him for that, seeing as the last time you watched a horror movie together you hadn’t allowed him to turn the bedroom lights off for three nights afterwards. 

Soon enough, the game begins, with the initial setting being some sort of dingy, decrepit corridor. The classic horror game first-person point of view adds to the rising sense of vulnerability as Charles slowly starts to explore what seems to be a rundown house. Silently, you both take in the details of the environment, hyper-vigilant as you pass doors barely held on by their hinges and windows showcasing an outside world far too heavily steeped in darkness to show anything of comfort. 

Charles is the first to break the silence.

“Are those claw marks?” He stops moving down the corridor to closely examine a wooden door. You squint your eyes a little, trying to take a closer look, but in the poor lighting you simply can’t make out much detail and reply with a shrug.

After that, the tension doesn’t fall in the slightest. There have been no jumpscares as of yet, nor any paranormal encounters, but the rising feeling of helplessness and the persistent thought that there’s a chance that you’re being watched makes the trek through the seemingly never-ending maze of rooms and corridors greatly unnerving. 

Eventually, you’re faced with a locked door, and Charles sets off to attempt to solve a puzzle of sorts in order to unlock it. You busy yourself with stroking his shoulder and chest instead of his cheek, unwilling to admit to him that you’re feeling slightly creeped out. 

And maybe it’s just paranoia, but in the corner of the screen, in the darkness of the room…

“Oh my god, that’s a face! Right there!” you yelp, pointing accusingly at the exact spot where you’re certain you’ve just seen a distorted face emerge. 

“Where? Where?” Charles panics, abandoning the puzzle and frantically looking around the room. After a thorough search, he looks down and frowns, “There’s nothing here,”

“But I swear!”

The two of you burst into laughter in an attempt to ward off the skittishness that you’ve been experiencing since you began playing. Seeing this as an opportunity to take a tiny break, you ask Charles to pass over the bowl of popcorn that you’d prepared earlier.

“Why can’t you do it yourself? Just lean over and grab it,” he whines, dramatically throwing his head back in mock distress. 

“You see, that’s exactly what the problem is, Charlie,” you begin to explain in a very serious tone, “if I lean over and put my hand over the gap between the sofa and coffee table, a monster could reach up and grab it and pull me down and-“

He furrows his brows before replying, “So you’d rather have that happen to me?”

After a brief pause, you mumble, “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Wow,” he drawls, rolling his eyes but yielding and handing over the bowl of popcorn, resting it on his stomach as he lays on his back. 

Giggling quietly at your victory (and the guaranteed safety of your hand) you busy yourself with munching on the snack as Charles returns to the puzzle.

He’s quick to solve it, and you give a little cheer and whoop of joy as he now moves through the door. Yet, despite the short-lived moment of triumph, you can’t help but feel that something’s just off.

All of a sudden, the lights in the newly-unlocked section of the corridor start to flicker before turning off completely, only to answer Charles’ hmm of confusion with a blood-curdling jumpscare.

Charles’ limbs go flailing in all directions and you cling onto his chest, ignoring the clattering of the controller on the floor and the popcorn raining down around the room as the pair of you somehow manage to launch it in the air with your sudden movements. 

“Nope, no, fuck this,” he blurts out, picking up the controller, shoving you into an upright sitting position and climbing onto your lap, “It’s your turn to play now - I’ve seen enough.”

You laugh a bit out of sheer shock, slowly wrapping the blanket around you and Charles as he sits sideways across your lap, his face pressed against your neck as he clings onto you. “Are we calling it a day and going to sleep or continuing?” you ask him, running a hand up and down his side in an attempt to comfort him. 

“You’re continuing, I’m sitting here safe under this blanket and watching,” he states firmly. 

“Oh, shush,” you giggle, picking the controller back up and shifting your attention to the game once again.

The jumpscares and tense atmosphere only get worse from that point onwards, leading you to question whether admitting defeat and leaving the game for another day would be a sensible choice. Yet, just to prove a point and boost your own ego, you keep forcing yourself to plough onwards through the plot of the game, doing your best to mask your shaking as feeling cold and your yelps as awkward coughs. 

“You can’t be cold when there’s a blanket and an entire person on top of you,” Charles questions you, raising an eyebrow and smirking. You shrug absentmindedly, pretending to be too focused on solving another puzzle to answer him properly. “Just admit that you’re scared,” he continues.

“I’m not scared,” you mumble, refusing to look him in the eye, “you just need to do a better job of warming me up.”

He immediately bursts into laughter and you cover his mouth with one hand before he gets the chance to make any further comments.

Without a doubt, the final few minutes of the game prove to be more horrific than anything you had witnessed up to this point. You can’t even tell if Charles is watching at this point as the maze of corridors gets unmanageably convoluted during a chase scene. To be completely honest, if you could close your eyes at this moment too then you eagerly would.

But no - you have to be able to brag about finishing the game. It’s a simple matter of earning bragging rights and an ego boost. 

By the time it’s all over you can feel your heart pounding in your chest and Charles tightly holding onto you with both arms. 

 He’s the first to speak, “What the hell?”

“Yeah, what the hell,” you mumble, thoroughly spooked yet unwilling to admit it. 

You both just sit there for a minute or two, staring at the blank black screen and trying to take in the events of the last few hours. By now, judging by the sliver of moonlight creeping in past the drawn curtains, it must be well past midnight.

“I think we should maybe clear up all this popcorn,” you mumble once you’re out of your stupor, giving Charles a gentle kiss on the head before shifting him off your lap. He stands up right after you do, shooing you away from the pieces of popcorn on the floor and taking the bowl from your hand.

“You go up to bed, I’ll sort this all out,” he assures you, gently pushing you in the direction of the bedroom.

“Are you sure?” you ask, feeling rather guilty just leaving him with all this mess. 

He nods in affirmation and you slink off with the intention of having a quick shower before you get into bed, despite the late hour. 

But the further away from the living room you get, the more eerily dark your surroundings get…

And for some reason, your corridor has never looked so menacing…

You scold yourself for being so childish - it was just a game, after all, nothing real at all - yet still sprint to the nearest lightswitch and slam your palm down on it. Ignoring Charles’ concerned shout of, “Is everything alright?” you make your way to the ensuite bathroom with renewed confidence. 

By the time you’re snuggled up under the duvet in bed, you’ve made sure to turn on all the bedside table lamps and the fairy lights strung around the room - Charles had spent an entire afternoon putting those up a few months ago, because every time he secured one end, the other end would fall right down.  You’ve managed to create quite a cosy atmosphere in the room, determined to ward off your paranoia and instead replace it with warm relaxation.

The sudden appearance of a figure at the bedroom door makes you gasp and Charles’ raucous laughter fills the room, “You said you weren’t scared, amour?”

“I’m not, you just surprised me!” you deny his assumptions, rolling over onto your side and facing away from him. You can’t possibly give him the satisfaction of you admitting that you’re only faking fearlessness.

“You don’t recognise your own boyfriend? I am very upset,” he sighs, feigning offence. You hear him taking off his hoodie and sweatpants, followed by the gentle click of him turning off the lamps.

“Leave them on,” you whisper, barely audible under the heap of duvet and blankets that you’ve buried yourself under. He ignores you, turning off the fairy lights as well before climbing into bed. Wrapping his arm around your midsection, he pulls your back against his chest. 

“Maybe I was terrified while we were playing the game, but at least I’m not scared of the dark afterwards,” he teases you, paying no attention to your groan of protest. 

“You’re so annoying,” you grumble, only to be met with an amused huff from Charles.

“I love you too,” he whispers, giving you a kiss on the cheek before laying his head down on the pillows. 

Already drifting off, you manage to quietly mutter back a slurred, “Love you.”

After a few seconds of silence in which you presume he’s fallen asleep, Charles whispers, “But, you know, if you wake up and the lights start flickering and there’s some scratches on the door-”

A gentle kick to the shin is enough to cut him off mid-sentence, but it doesn’t stop him from giggling as he holds you tighter. He knows you too well - you wouldn’t be able to hide a secret from him even if your life depended on it.

Maybe next time you’ll just stick to playing Mario Kart.

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a/n: please nag me to post more regularly in the future! thank you for reading :)

TAGLIST: (read this post for more info about my taglists)

@seastarapiaries @idkiwantchocolatee​  @ohthemisssery

[arcielee]

Hello , got any fics for me?

I howled with this gif. 😆

Okay. So my beloved Ez [@sylasthegrim 💜] just posted their fic recs for Aemond Targayren that is filled with some of the amazing talent we have on Tumblr. This post is going to be a shout out to some of my favorites on ao3 for those who prefer that web UX vs the Tumblr app [which makes me queasy sometimes].

💜 First off, the above mentioned Ez posts on ao3. Our origins story was literally me commenting on every fucking chapter of their story Love is a Downfall [amazing] and it slowly, but surely, won them over.

💜 Literally anything by @inthedayswhenlandswerefew. Her narration is fucking brilliant, rich, witty, and, of course, angsty as fuck. [A personal favorite of mine is Now I'm Covered in You, which I have reread an obscene amount of times.]

💜@humanpurposes has the penname lolololola on ao3. One of my favorites is Hysteria, but she posted a new Florismond story that was fucking amazing [like everything she writes].

💜@barbieaemond is also on ao3. King of Qarth is her latest piece and the au idea, the narration, just every word is so brilliant.

💜 Winterwood by @lonnson is another au that mixes dark, gothic fairytales into the GRRM world in this seamless way. Her Aemond is one of my favorite literary versions.

💜@moris-auri has her wonderful stories on ao3. Read them all. Sermon of Desire was delicious, but seriously, I just enjoy everything Miranda shares with us.

💜the thing about dragons by @killergirlfuria is an isekai when the old gods of the GRRM world snatch up a soul to send back and try to stop the Dance of the Dragons. Her prose is some of my favorite, and I love the mixture she does of modern into Westeros, since the OC is from the 21st century.

💜Anything by honeydwine. Her Alysmond has set a bar that HBO will surely disappoint, but I'm okay because I will go back and reread these stories.

Again, these are just a few off the top of my head and my subscriptions.

To my Tumblr kindred spirits, please post any UNs I may have forgotten or share some of your favorite stories from ao3 in the comments! 🥰

Enjoy lovely!

[memento-rory]

✭ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝒂 𝒇𝒖𝒍𝒍 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆.

✭ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your family owns a beach house that you frequent every summer, but this summer, you’re the only one able to go stay. your parents allow you and your best friend to stay alone, but use it as an opportunity to teach you ‘responsibility’ by charging you for rent and utilities. fully unable to afford the obscene amount they’re charging you, you start a search for roommates. several people take you up on the offer, including ethan, your old summer love.

✭ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: erm a lot of rushed exposition! 😵‍💫

✭ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: ~2.7k

✭ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: based on a book i read once called ocean city. zuzu has inspired me to write an ethan series. no beta, we die like men here. hope y’all enjoy! 🩵

You heaved a heavy sigh as you bent down to retrieve the Keystone — an inconspicuous, hollowed out plastic rock housing the spare house key — out of the pile of rocks that lined the walkway up to your parents’ beach house. You’d literally just made it to town, and you’d already had your first screw up — leaving your beach house key back at home.

“It’s okay!” Your best friend Ivy was quick to try to reassure you, “We’ll just run down to a locksmith and get a new copy. No one will ever have to know.”

Ah, yes. The first secret of many to come this summer.

The second secret? Searching for roommates.

Your parents had granted you permission to stay at the family beach house by yourself (or, rather, with a friend) since the rest of your family members had prior obligations keeping them from being able to join you, but under the condition that you paid them rent and utilities and general upkeep of the house. They figured it would be a good opportunity to teach you about responsibility, despite the fact that you’d been living on your own for the better part of a year. You already knew all about responsibility, but you didn’t argue. A summer at the beach house by yourself sounded like an absolute dream, and you weren’t about to give them a reason to tell you no.

Given the, frankly, obscene amount they decided they were going to charge you, you knew there was no way that you and Ivy were going to be able to cover all of the expenses, so Ivy hatched up the genius plan to put out an ad for roommates. Your parents would kill you if they ever found out, but what choice did you have? It’s not like Lou’s Surf Shop paid the big bucks.

The ad was already made and printed out, ready to be put up at Beachy Brews Café as soon as you and Ivy got settled.

After unlocking the door, you let it swing open, and you nearly jumped out of your skin as you noticed someone standing in the middle of the living room.

“Surprise!”

In front of you was Mateo, the son of some family friends, looking way more grown up than you remembered. He jogged over to the front door, pulling you in for a hug.

“Teo!” You beamed, still in shock, “What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

Mateo’s eyes twinkled as he pulled away from you. “I live here!”

You cocked your head in confusion. You knew he lived in town, he’d been a local all his life. That had to be what he meant, right?

“Well, I take that back. I live in the boathouse,” Mateo explained, “Your folks hired me to take care of the boats this summer after I mentioned I was lookin’ for a place of my own. It’s no beach house, but I get to use the amenities, so it’s good enough for me.”

It finally dawned on you. “You mean they hired you to keep an eye on me.” Your eyes narrowed just slightly, and Mateo shot you a cheeky grin.

“Maybe they offered extra for that, sure,” He shrugged, chuckling quietly at the scowl that formed on your face, “But I’m not a narc. You’ve got nothin’ to worry about, baby.”

You believed him, and even if you didn’t, you knew he’d never say anything. You knew plenty of secrets about Mateo, having grown up with him, and he knew you’d waste no time spilling them if you had to.

Ivy loudly cleared her throat beside you.

“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry. Ivy, this is Mateo. He’s a family friend.” You said, gesturing toward the young man, “And Mateo, this is Ivy.”

“The infamous Ivy finally shows her face!” Mateo teased, extending his hand out for a handshake, “You have no idea how excited I am to finally meet you. (Y/N) talks about you all the time.”

“Likewise,” Ivy smirked at Mateo, “I’ve heard a lot about you, too.”

You just barely resisted the urge to elbow Ivy. Yeah, okay, you’d had a bit of a crush on him growing up, but that had long passed… Or, you thought it had, but now that you had seen Mateo looking so grown up and handsome, that little crush threatened to emerge once more.

“Anyway,” You started, grabbing a hold of your bags again, “Ivy and I need to get settled and then we’re heading to Beachy Brews. Gotta put out an ad for roommates.”

“Roommates?” Mateo’s eyebrows shot up.

“Yeah, dude. You know how much my parents are charging me for this place? Meanwhile they’re paying you to live here.”

“Okay,” Mateo held his hands up in surrender, laughing at your quip, “Don’t have to get aggro with me. I get it.”

“Sorry,” You apologized, taking a deep breath, “It’s just annoying to be a grown adult and still not be trusted by my family. It’s like they purposefully made it so I wouldn’t be able to afford this stay.”

“Hey, no, I get it,” Mateo said, “I think roommates are a great idea, and I can help you vet them. I basically know everyone around here.”

“Cool,” You breathed out, smiling over at him, before turning to Ivy, “You get first pick on rooms. I’m gonna take my usual room.”

“Don’t mind if I do!” Ivy grinned, taking off up the stairs, with you following close behind.

Your room looked exactly as you left it last summer, but then again, it always did. The room was one of the only things that never changed throughout your life. Souvenirs from all the years you’d spent there littered the room — stuffed animals won from the boardwalk, shells and sand dollars collected from the beach, pictures of you, your siblings, your family friends.

You were honestly a little bummed that your family couldn’t be with you this summer, but another part of you was kind of glad. Most of the time you were at the mercy of your siblings, always doing what they wanted to do, never really getting to do what you wanted to do. It would be nice to have a summer entirely to yourself, with no one else to answer to, to call all of the shots.

Your fingers ghosted over a photo you really weren’t sure why you had kept all these years. You, around sixteen years old, with your arms around a young boy’s waist, grin so wide that it nearly looked unnatural. The boy’s expression matched yours. The twinkling lights of the pier illuminated your smiling faces.

Ethan Nestor. Your first ever boyfriend, or at least, the first one that ever counted.

You’d met him one fateful summer years ago, absolutely smitten with him from the moment you saw him. The two of you had been inseparable that summer, sharing many firsts together — first date, first kiss, first… well… you know. First love.

But like all good things, it had to come to an end. The two of you thought you could do something long distance, just having to hold out to the next summer, but with school and activities and whatnot, your conversations eventually fizzled out until both of you disappeared from each other’s lives. For a while, you looked for him every summer, but he never showed back up.

It was probably for the best. That’s what you’d always told yourself, anyway. It didn’t matter, though. You’d moved on, several times, in fact. Ethan was merely a happy memory now.

You let your hand drop from the photo, returning to unpacking your bags. As soon as you had everything in its rightful place, Ivy wandered into your room.

“Oh, this is so cute!” Ivy said, flopping onto your bed dramatically. “It’s exactly as I imagined it.”

“You ready to hit the café?” You asked her, hands on your hips. You were raring to go, eager to get the ads put up. You had to start work at Lou’s in a couple days, and you would have preferred to have the roommate situation squared away before you got too busy. You figured with three or four more people, you’d all have plenty to cover everything and have enough extra money to have fun on.

“Ready when you are.” Ivy grinned. “Can’t wait to scope out the babes.”

“Keep it in your pants.” You joked, and Ivy wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at you.

“Hey, you’re the one that promised me sexy singles,” Ivy countered with a smirk, “I’m treating this like my own personal Love Island.”

“All I ask is that you don’t bring any more weirdos home,” You pleaded with Ivy, and she feigned mock offense. “I don’t need another Bella situation.”

“Oh, God, me neither.” Ivy laughed incredulously. “I promise there will be no more Bellas. Scout’s honor.”

“Thank God.”

Beachy Brews was a café just off the boardwalk, the perfect location to attract a ton of foot traffic, which made it the perfect place to put up your ad.

Right by the door was a bulletin board, covered with flyers for concerts and events or other ads looking for things like dog walkers or babysitters. You asked the barista if she wouldn’t mind if you put up the ad, and she shook her head, before curiously raising an eyebrow.

“Sorry, does that say that you’re looking for roommates?” The barista asked, and you whipped back around from the bulletin board to face her.

“Yeah!” You responded, “Are you interested?”

“I am definitely interested,” The barista nodded furiously, her tone bordering exasperation. “I have got to get out of my parent’s house, and it’s been impossible to find anything around here.”

“Yikes,” You commiserated with her, “I have to be up front, it’s just for the summer. I’m only here for three months, it’s my family’s home.”

“That’s no big deal,” The barista waved her hand dismissively, “As long as I can search for something else from a place that doesn’t belong to my parents.”

“Okay, hell yeah.”

“Do you need anything from me?”

“Well, I already know you have a job.” You told her, pursing your lips. “You’re not a murderer, are you?”

“I mean, not yet.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you at that. “Good enough for me. What’s your name?”

“Aria.”

“Cool, Aria. Nice to meet you. I’m (Y/N), this is Ivy.” You pointed to Ivy, who stood behind you. “Guess we’re your new roommates. Lemme get your phone number and I’ll text you the address!”

“Damn. Got one already.” Ivy breathed out, grinning. “She was cute, too.”

“Nuh-uh,” You started to warn her, stopping dead in your tracks on the boardwalk. “No hooking up with the roommates. It’s too messy.”

“Fine, fine, fine,” Ivy huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, “I will not hook up with our roommates.”

“Thank you.”

“And what about you?”

“Trust me, you don’t have to worry about that.”

When you got back home, there were two strange men standing out in the yard with Mateo. They were definitely around your age, fully shirtless with red shorts on and whistles draped around their necks. Lifeguards, no doubt. You knew Mateo did a little lifeguarding in his spare time, so these were probably his friends.

“Hey!” Mateo waved you over as you and Ivy stepped out of your car, “Found some more roommates! This is Lucas and Hudson.”

“Yeah?” You asked, strolling up to the three young men, “You guys have jobs?”

“Yes ma’am,” Lucas answered, while Hudson just nodded.

“Are you cool with living with women?”

“Absolutely,” Hudson answered flirtatiously, and Lucas elbowed him hard in the side.

“Ignore him, I always do.” Lucas rolled his eyes, “What he means is yes, we are cool with living with women, and we respect them. A lot.”

You couldn’t help the look that spread across your face, but Mateo just gave you a thumbs up, like he could vouch for them.

“Fine, we’ll do a trial run. You can move in whenever, but we reserve the right to change our minds.”

“Understood.” Lucas responded, then both men saluted you. “We’ll start getting our things together, and start moving in tomorrow. That cool with you?”

“For sure. I’ll have keys ready for you tomorrow!”

After you and Ivy finally finished running all the necessary errands to get the house ready for your new roommates, you fell onto the couch, sprawling out comfortably. “Can’t believe we’ve already got a full house. I gotta take that ad down tomorrow.”

“I know dude, that was nuts.” Ivy agreed, making herself comfortable in one of the arm chairs.

You pulled your phone from your pocket, ready to unwind with some mindless scrolling, but as you unlocked it, you noticed you had several missed calls, all from the same number. You were about to listen to the voicemail the caller had left when your phone began to ring, another call from the same number.

“Hello?”

“Oh! Thank God! You finally picked up.” said the girl on the other end of the phone, sounding incredibly frantic, “I saw your ad looking for roommates at Beachy Brews. Are you still taking applicants?”

You had already acquired three roommates, which was a lot in all honesty, but you did still have room if Lucas and Hudson could share a room.

You must have paused to think for too long, because the girl starts talking again. “Look, we’re desperate. We’re from out of town, we were coming to stay for the summer but when we got to our rental, it turned out that our landlord gave the place to someone else and when we asked if he had anything else, he said no and kept our deposit. We got scammed and we just need a place to stay until we can gets jobs and save up some money and then we could be out of your hair—”

“It’s fine. We’re still taking applicants. Do you need a place to stay tonight?” God, this poor girl. You couldn’t tell her no. It would be wrong to leave her in such a shitty situation, especially if she wouldn’t be able to find anything else for the night.

“Please! Yes, please. We can’t pay anything right now but—”

“That’s okay. I totally understand. It’s just you and a friend?”

“Yes! He’s very cool — we’re both very cool and normal, I promise.”

“Okay, sure, um…”

“Hazel!” She finished for you, “My name’s Hazel.”

“Okay, Hazel, I’ll send you the address.”

“Oh, my God. Thank you. You’re a literal lifesaver. Thank you so much.”

Hazel hung up the phone and you looked over at Ivy, who quirked an eyebrow. “Who was that?”

“Two more roommates.”

It wasn’t even twenty minutes before your doorbell rang.

“Coming!” You yelled from the couch, before hopping up and jogging over to the door. When you swung it open, you were greeted by a sweet-looking young woman with an extremely appreciative expression on her face.

“Hi, I’m Hazel.” She said, extending her hand for a handshake. “My friend is just getting the rest of our stuff. Thank you so much for letting us stay.”

“Of course!” You told her, gesturing for her to come in, “I’m so sorry that happened to you. That guy fucking sucks.”

“You can say that again,” Hazel laughed mirthlessly, stepping inside, maneuvering gently so she didn’t hit you with her bags. “I’m just glad you were still taking applicants.”

“It’s going to be a bit of a full house,” You mentioned to Hazel, “I hope you don’t mind, we’ve got three other people moving in later this week, and you’re more than welcome to stay for the summer, if you’d like. I heard it’s nearly impossible to find anything right now.”

“Hence why we’re here.” Hazel nodded, setting her bags down, “Where should we put our stuff?”

“You can just put it…” Your voice trailed off as you noticed Hazel’s friend walking up the drive.

“Hey, Hazel, where’d you put the—”

No way. No fucking way.

It was Ethan. Your Ethan. Only now, he was years older, but still oozing that boyish charm that had enticed you so many years ago.

He stopped dead in his tracks, his face blanching, his hands involuntarily dropping the bags he was carrying. You locked eyes with him, your heart pounding against your ribs.

“(Y/N)?”

[askinkiskarma]

The Archer | Chapter VIII: Bigger Than The Whole Sky

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X

Summary: As you try everything in your power to bring Neteyam back to life, he gets everything he's ever wanted in Eywa.

Pairings: Neteyam x Avatar!Reader

Word Count: 11,5k words

Warnings/notes (please proceed with caution, some of the topics might be sensitive/triggering): angst (lots and lots of angst), death, blood, violence, cursing, mildly suggestive content (18+, minors DNI), spoilers (!!) for ATWOW

A/N: i am sick and i am so so so sorry - IT HAD TO BE DONE OK?!

This was supposed to be the last chapter, but i quickly realised as i was writing it that there was no way I could reasonably end the series the way I wanted to this way - so two chapters it is. This took everything out of me honestly, but i put so much love and effort into this series, into the laws and the lore I have created, and I hope it comes across this way. I have spent an obscene amount of time trying to piece it all together, make everything consistent within the story I have already told, and I am proud of the way everything is shaping up. Now, this chapter WILL HURT and I am so sorry, but I PROMISE you all you will not be disappointed with the ending, and I will give EVERY character the ending they deserve, bc i love them all so much and they deserve to be happy.

Anyway, I'll stop rambling but i'd love to chat more about it and elaborate my thoughts and reasonings so let's chat in the replies/asks baby boys, gals and non-binary pals <3 ILY all so much xoxoxo

↳ *Spotify playlist* ༉‧₊˚✧

No words appear before me in the aftermath Salt streams out my eyes and into my ears Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness 'Cause it's all over now, all out to sea

“Where are your sisters?”

Jake’s voice registered weakly in your ears, just like the muffled cries around you and Neytiri’s haunting wails. The tears that fell from your eyes were dried up and gone in the wind, like the rest of your being was. Empty. Soulless. Dead. 

“YOUR SISTERS, WHERE ARE THEY?” 

“I don’t know.”

Lo’ak’s voice sounded tired. So tired. You were all tired. Tired of this world, tired of the pain that never ever seemed to cease, that never ever wanted to relent. Your blurred dizzy vision moved to your hands, red and sticky, coated in Neteyam’s warm blood. You looked at Lo’ak, whose hands looked similar to yours. Fitting, you thought. His blood was on your hands. You were responsible for this. He wanted to leave. He wanted to get the fuck out of the ship, like you should have done. You made him come. And because of you, your dad was dead, your mate was dead. Your dad was a trained soldier, one of the best that has ever existed. Why in Eywa’s name would you ever think he needed you? If you hadn’t been there, they would have probably escaped the ship easier, quicker, and you would be all finishing the rest of the humans instead of trying to figure out how you were ever going to survive this, how you were supposed to exist in a world Neteyam didn’t, how you were going to make quick work of your damned, void soul.

Your mind went to the book, the book that you took with you to this new life as you carried it in your own, the book whose every memorable quote reminded you of him, that felt so appropriate now, all the words were swimming scattered through every crevice of your being. 

“If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.”

“Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I can not live without my life! I can not live without my soul!”

“I have to remind myself to breathe -- almost to remind my heart to beat!”

“Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

“Nelly, I am Heathcliff - he's always, always in my mind - not as a pleasure, any more then I am always a pleasure to myself - but, as my own being.”

It truly seems you couldn’t stop ruining everything you touched. It seems no matter what body your mind was in, no matter whether in the forest or at sea, no matter a child or a full grown adult, no matter broken or seemingly healed, everything you touched just turned to ashes. Everything, everyone that dared to get close to you was bound to be lost in the abyss forever. 

“WHERE ARE THEY?”

“They’re on the ship. They are tied up on the ship.”

“Yeah, they’re at the moon pool. Come on, I’ll show you.” 

All the voices were distant, broken, like a messed up radio, you could only pick up words, only sounds that your brain was working hard to try to piece together. You didn’t know who was speaking, your every sense focused on Neteyam, on his eyes, still open, that will haunt you forever, for the rest of your measly, torn-apart life.  

You noticed Jake come to you, taking you by the shoulders and shaking you. He did the same to Neytiri.

“Kid, come on. Let’s go. We gotta go.” When he saw how unresponsive you are, that your eyes barely looked more alive than your mate’s, that all you could muster was a barely visible shake of head, he let you go. 

“Listen to me, listen to me.” He could barely speak, could be barely heard over the stirring, painful cries continuously escaping Neytiri’s mouth, yet another thing you will never be able to forget as long as you live. You have never heard anything like it, never thought it was possible for such sounds to escape another being, never thought a wordless evocation could say so much, could say everything words couldn’t. 

“They have our daughters. They have our daughters. I need you with me. And I need you to be strong. Right now, strong heart. Strong heart.”

Silence enveloped the space around you, just like the darkness that came with the eclipse, and you were happy, happy for your mind to be able to focus on what it needed to, what it had to. 

“Let’s go get our daughters.”

“You stay with your brother.”

“No, dad, I want to go with you.”

“You’ve done enough.”

“No, dad…”

Neteyam woke up dazed, lavender haze surrounding him until his vision finally focused, and he was able to see the periwinkle glow for what it was: bioluminescent flora. Different than the one he’s been forced to get used to the past few months - better. Because this beauty all around him was in a place he knew and loved so much, that will always be his favourite place in the world. Your clearing, back in the Omatikaya forest. How was he here? He couldn’t remember what happened, couldn’t remember a single thing from before a few seconds ago, but he took a moment to revel in being back home. He has not said it to anyone, not even you, but as much as he has enjoyed the reef, enjoyed the peace that came with being far away from humans, within the Metkayina clan, Neteyam deeply missed his home. He’s wanted to speak about it to you, but couldn’t - not when he knew how much you have also been struggling with it, how much you also missed this place, not when there was nothing to be done anyway. They couldn’t come back, as much was clear, while the humans hunted them so ferociously, while the clan could suffer as a consequence. 

This place was slightly different than he remembered, Neteyam mused, and he realises it is because he has very rarely seen it after eclipse. You both usually came here during the day, as dangers hid in the shadow of the night, dangers he wouldn’t be willing to risk encountering, not with you around. He slowly, deliberately, enjoying every step, every sensation, every sound, made his way to the middle of the clearing, where the river trickled serenely, and he couldn’t help kneel next to it and put one hand in the water, palm against the current. He stood like this for a while, reminiscing about all the memories you have made here and how happy he was to be able to feel this again. 

“Neteyam, wait uuup!”

“You have to be faster than that if you ever want to catch me!” 

“I don’t want to catch you, I just want to catch up with you!” 

Neteyam laughed at the tiny 8 year old girl with bouncing hair and starry eyes, ears pushed back and tails swinging rapidly from one side to the other in happiness at seeing her running towards him, a small pout on her pink lips and an annoyed figure on her face. The little boy kneeled to the ground and opened his much bigger arms wide and she ran straight into him, almost knocking him over at the force of the impact. He wondered if it hurt her. He was always worried about her, she was so so small. 

“You caught me.” 

“Woah! What is this place?” 

Neteyam took in your awed, amazed expression and turned around slowly and was speechless at the beauty of this place, this little corner of Pandora that seemed untouched, that seemed no one else has ever set foot in it before you two. 

“It’s heaven!!” 

“What’s heaven?” You spoke English most of the time, although you knew Na’vi as well, but a lot of the words you spoke were new to Neteyam - he was a fast learner, though, and he loved it when you explained anything to him. It was better than when the scientists did, except auntie Jo. He loved auntie Jo. 

“It’s where good people go after they die, at least that’s what mummy said about Earth people.” 

Neteyam shook his head minutely. “No, people go with Eywa after they die! Everybody knows that!”

“So, maybe Heaven is where Eywa is?”

You both thought about it a long time, focused expressions on both your faces.

“That sounds about right! But why is it here?” 

You thought about that for a while too. “I think Heaven looks different for different people. But this can be our heaven! Yours and mine!” 

“Just you and me?”

“Just you and me.”

Neteyam liked the idea of that, that there would be a place for only you two, for the rest of time. 

Neteyam’s attention shifted back from his own little world into this one, although it barely felt like anything changed, as two little kids ran straight into the clearing, a little human girl chasing a blue boy. Why was his mind making him see the same thing twice, why was this all so real, it was like it was taken from his imagination and placed into the physical world? 

“Kalin, wait uuup! I’m smaller than you and I have tiny legs! You are being mean, brother!” 

Kalin? Brother? 

“Tsy, you’re the one that asked me to not go easy on you.”

“Well, that’s what mother told me to say. She said it’s called feminism.” 

“What’s feminism?”

“What do I know? I’m six.”

Neteyam was taken aback at the interaction, and at these kids that he has never seen before, whose names didn’t sound familiar to him at all. And the little girl… there’s no other human children on Pandora, haven’t been since… well, you. Could they be new children the humans brought with them? But the scientists always said the reason Spider wasn’t sent back was because you cannot put babies in the contraptions humans used to travel. He sat there, unmoving, just taking it all in, studying these two children carefully, with intense curiosity. His eyes widened and mouth opened before he even realised, as he observed the girl more carefully. She was human… but she had white freckles, freckles like all the Na’vi did… and she had a queue. A queue… 

Her hair was dark and thick, braided and ornate, with beads and feathers, and her eyes, they were yellow, like his, but the shape, just like the shape of her nose and mouth… she looked like you. The boy was taller and blue, like he was, but his eyes and nose looked… human, nothing like a Na’vi, and Neteyam was reminded a lot of Kiri, how she looked even more human than an Avatar. As he was laughing at his little sister, Neteyam saw the boy… Kalin, was it? He didn’t have fangs, either. His hair was long and wavy, a different colour than the rest of the Na’vi had, and he was wearing it down, flowing gently and glowing in the sun. 

Neteyam’s heart was about to explode out of his chest as the realisation slowly hit him, and as he shifted a little towards them, struggling to keep himself steady on the ground, the sounds his body made attracted the attention of the two little beings in front of him, who both gasped loudly and smiled widely at his presence. 

“DADDY! YOU’RE HERE!” 

They both ran with all their might straight into his body, which - at the contact as well as the overwhelming feelings that enveloped him whole - fell straight to the ground with a loud thud, and which Kalin and Tsyeym started attacking mercilessly with tickles and kisses. 

“WE MISSED YOU, DAD!” 

No. No. No. 

This couldn’t be it. This couldn’t be the end. 

You felt like you just woke up, like your brain rewired and restarted. What the fuck were you doing? You were a medic. You were a scientist. You had a fucking medical bag full of supplies and equipment and so much shit you worked so hard to learn to use, to bring here with you. And you were just going to let your mate die? Without even trying? No. No fucking way. 

You got up from the ground, like the ground burned you, and ran to Neyn, where you picked up the large bag that always resided on her, and moved it next to Neteyam’s body. You pushed away the tears forming silently at his unmoving form, trying not to dwell on it too much. He’s just sleeping. He’s just sleeping. Your mate, your best friend and the love of your life, the man you hoped would be the father of your children one day, he’s just sleeping. 

You searched the bag, hurried and crazed, and found the strips of gauze you were looking for. You removed them from their sterile wrappings and screamed at Tsireya, who was looking at you panicked, not understand what was happening. You cringed a little at her face, a crying, blubbering mess, and tried to push the thoughts out of your mind. He’s just sleeping. Just sleeping. You looked around for Lo’ak, or Jake, or anyone else, but they were all gone. Where was Lo’ak? Where did he go again? You needed him and he was gone. You growled loudly, but didn’t say anything else on the subject, turning your full attention to Tsireya.

“I need you to help me keep him upright for a while, I need to bandage his wounds. Can you do that?” 

She was confused, the emotion very obvious on her face. “Y-yes, I can, but… but… he’s d-“ 

“Tsireya.” You hissed lowly, fangs barring menacingly. He was sleeping. Just sleeping. “Can you help me or not?” 

She nodded furiously, and you knew she would help in any way she could. She was a good kid. She’ll make a good Tsa’hik one day. 

“Alright.” You helped her bring his torso up, and you waited for her to rearrange so that she could keep his much larger body in the position you needed her to. You grabbed the large bandage and rolled it around his body, tying it as tightly as you possibly could, cursing under your breath that no one else was here, knowing that Jake could have tightened it better than you could. You needed as much pressure as possible, needed the wounds to stop bleeding. You were trying not to think about how much blood he’s already lost. All that mattered at the moment was that his heart started beating again. You were the same blood type, you could give him blood, but all the blood in the world wouldn’t do anything without a heart to pump it through his body. 

Once you were happy with how wrapped his body was, you motioned for Tsireya to lay him back on the ground, which she did, slowly and carefully - which you appreciated. You straddled him, knees on either side of his abdomen and placed the heel of your hand over his chest. You placed your other hand on top of the first, and intertwined your fingers together, starting to pump his chest rhythmically, putting all your effort into it. 

“Tsireya, I need you to look in the bag and find a red little case, like a basket. When you find it, bring it to me, fast.” 

She took off immediately, ready and committed to do whatever it took to help. You continued the CPR, not stopping for a second, mind running a thousand miles a minute. The fight or flight finally overtook you, and you knew now you would do whatever it took to bring Neteyam back. Because you had to. Because there was no other option. Because you have both suffered enough. You deserved a soft epilogue. You were both good people, and you suffered enough.* 

“Here it is!” She brought it next to you, flinging it from side to side in front of your face.

“Good. Now I need you to open it, you see that string? That’s called a zipper. Just pull on it and it should come apart in two.” 

Once she did that, you saw the defibrillator come into view and you sighed a small breath of relief. You were exhausted, sweat dripping from your forehead and onto Neteyam’s chest. 

“I need you to put this on him. I will walk you through it, I will tell you what to do, but you have to do it, do you understand me?” 

She looked uncomfortably from side to side. “B-but, I.. you should do it.” 

“I can’t do it, Tsireya. Please. I know this it strange to you, and new and unnatural, and I am sorry, but I need to do this. We need to do this.” You let out a pained cry. “I need to save him. I can save him.” 

Your voice rang in the forest all around him, surrounding the meadow and filling his ears, hauntingly beautiful and serene, and he was overwhelmed at the voice, that he missed so much, that he felt like he was just hearing for the first time. 

Where the North wind meets the sea

There's a river full of memory

Sleep, my darling, safe and sound

For in this river, all is found

Neteyam struggled to understand what was going on, but, as he was being tackled by the children that just called him dad, the children that bore a striking resemblance to both you and him, he allowed himself to be pushed to the ground and he felt his heart swell to twice its size at the feeling of warmth that enveloped him. As he tightened his arms around the little boy and girl, he realises he knows them. He knows them, has known them every moment of their lives. He has loved them every moment of their lives. 

“Parultsyìp! (Children!)” 

Memories flooded his being, of your beautiful body, now a bit bigger than he remembered, caressing your pregnant belly tenderly as he placed small kisses all over it; you laughed loudly as the action made you ticklish, and brought your hand to the back of his head, patting him gently, playing with his braids. Memories of Kalin being born, a strange sight, seeing the blue baby come out of his very human mate, but the happiest day of his life. Memories of Mo’at telling you you’re pregnant again, and the shock that overtook you both, then the immense joy that followed seeing his baby girl for the first time, so tiny and absolutely perfect. The first communion with Eywa, their pocket-sized queues connecting to the Spirit Tree, the whole tribe and the scientists, all there to celebrate the Olo’eyktan and Tsakarem, as well as their new happy family. Putting them to sleep every night, neither of them able to slumber without hearing your voice singing softly in their ears. The years passing, but not the passion and love you shared, still obsessed with each other, still going at it like crazed teenagers, like you did ever since you first mated. Images of Lo’ak being the best uncle, and Neteyam having panic attacks every time he would twist and throw his kids in the air like they were helicopter propellers. His mother and father both holding each one of the kids in their arms, cooing and rocking them softly, crying when Tsy wrapped her tiny hand around his mother’s pinky. Kalin’s first word, sweets, since that was what you always called him, and Tsyeym’s, fuck, curtesy of Lo’ak and Spider’s babysitting, which Neteyam prohibited afterwards, and although you tried to hide it - you found it a little funny. All of these things and more, 8 years of memories, of love and care, of adoration and awe, all overwhelming, all pulsating through Neteyam’s mind like electrical shocks, waking him like from a nightmare. 

“Neteyam?”

When his amber eyes reopened, the kids were gone, much to his dismay, but he was comforted by the sight of you, his beautiful love, his beautiful light. 

“Atan!” 

Your human face looked scared, and confused, and sad, but Neteyam couldn’t care less, not when he felt like he hasn’t seen you in a lifetime, not when the only thing he wanted to do was kiss you, like Dean kissed Rory in that episode of Gilmore Girls you loved. He didn’t think twice about your size, about how in your human body, you were as tall as a Na’vi girl, how even in the forest, your face was unencumbered by the weight of your oxygen mask. He didn’t think of anything, because none of it matter outside of you, outside of you and him and the love you shared. 

He ran to you, watching as every step made the ground glow in lustrous pastel colours and he smiled as he picked you up by your thighs and lifted you, pushing you to the tree your body was close to until your back hit it and you wrapped your legs around his hips. Your hands found his face and hair, like they always did, and your body melted into him, slowly relaxing, giving him a dazzling smile that took his breath away. 

“Hi.”

“Hi, Atan.”

The kiss was everything he needed and more, more than he could ever dream in this life and the next and everything that came after. It was hot and needy and desperate, and you were clinging to each other like you never wanted to let go, and he’d be damned if he ever would again. 

Tsireya took a look at your disheveled figure, putting all your effort into your chest compressions, and she nodded, determination overtaking any other emotion on her face. 

“Tell me what to do.”

“Alright. In the pouch, there is the little device with a human drawn on it. You see that blue lever, just pull on it, until the cover comes off.”

She did as she was told, and let out an excited yelp when what you told her would happen, happened. 

“I did it!” 

“That’s great, Tsireya. Now, inside, there are two pieces of… paper… yes, that’s right. I need you to look at the drawing on them, and remove the yellow film that is on them, and put the white strips on Neteyam’s body, exactly how it shows you in the picture. Make sure you press them down properly.” 

She manoeuvred around you so she can do what you told her, and eventually, the pads were on. It was up to the little contraption to do its job now. Neteyam’s life was in its tiny, inanimate hands. 

“Neteyam, stop.” 

“No, Atan, I can’t stop. I need you, I need you so badly.”

Neteyam felt you push him away, the same expression as earlier marring your beautiful face. You looked…scared.

“Neteyam, why are you here?” 

“What do you mean?”

“Fuck… if you’re here… that means… Shit.” 

Neteyam watched as you removed yourself from him, and no matter how disappointed, he helped put you back onto the ground. You put distance in between you, which Neteyam dreaded, and you were pacing around, seemingly out of your mind with worry.

“No… it can’t be.”

“What is going on, Atan? You’re scaring me.” 

“Neteyam, you can’t be here. You have to go. What is the last thing you remember?” 

Neteyam thought long and hard about it. Nothing… he couldn’t remember anything. He can remember moving to the Metkayina, and learning to swim. He can remember the beauty of the reef, he can remember you, hair blowing gracefully in the humid wind as you took to the new culture, he can remember a magical celebration where people danced and sang. That’s about it. 

“I can’t remember much… I just woke up here, back home. I walked through the clearing and saw our kids. Our kids, Atan! They are so beautiful, they look so much like both of us. They look exactly like what I imagined them to ever since I fell in love with you! I can’t believe I’m back home, I can’t believe this is happening. I thought I’d never be back here.” 

Your mouth fell slightly agape, looking somewhere behind him, and you looked like you were trying to process everything he was telling you. 

“…Kids… Our kids… you saw our kids?” 

“Yes, they were right there, laughing and chasing each other, just like we used to do, in the exact place we used to. It’s everything I have ever wanted, ever since the moment I knew how deeply and irrevocably in love with you I was, all I wanted was this. That moment right there, this moment right here.” 

Neteyam saw your lips quiver, trembling trying to keep in the tears that were threatening to spill out. Your brows were furrowed and you were looking at him in disbelief, like nothing about this made sense, like what he was feeling was wrong, and Neteyam couldn’t understand. He was finally home. You finally guided him home. 

You closed the distance in between you and pulled him into a hug, a tight hug that he immediately reciprocated. 

“I love you so much. I have missed you so much.” You were sobbing in his chest now, hot tears trickling down his torso. 

“But I need you to try to remember. You have to remember.”

Neteyam’s words caught in his throat as a loud boom almost knocked him to the ground, shaking the whole clearing, and he found it hard keeping upright. His first instinct, as it always was, was to shield you, so he grabbed your body in his and pushed you to the ground, towering over you with his body. 

“What is happening?” 

The world was losing focus around him, the edges of the clearing blurred and disappearing slowly from view. 

“Atan, what is happening?” 

You looked at him, eyes wide and he saw you shaking your head almost imperceptibly, biting on the inside of your lip aggressively. He brought his hand up to your face and caressed your lips softly with his thumb, tugging a little so you stopped hurting yourself. 

“What is it, Atan? What can’t you tell me? Why am I here? Why are we here?” 

“I’m here for you, Neteyam. You have to remember.” 

Neteyam was trying so hard, thinking so hard whilst the world was seemingly falling apart around him, around you both, and the only thing he could think of, the only think he knew, is that he didn’t want to leave you. He didn’t want to leave the meadow, or the kids. He was home, finally. He could finally live. 

“I will try to remember, Atan. I am not leaving you, I am not going anywhere. I will protect you and the kids. We’re never going to be apart again.”

You seemed pained at his words, but said no more as another quake shook the ground you were laying on. 

You watched as Neteyam’s body jerked violently for a second time, with no response. The deep fear and anguish, the dark thoughts were slowly creeping up on you again, as your mate wasn’t coming back to life, and it seemed again all efforts, all your hope was easily being dragged out to sea, out into the abyss, along your sanity and future.

“Please, please fuck! Please, just work. Goddamn it!” 

You continued CPR in between shocks, praying, begging Eywa for a chance. Please, Great Mother, you can’t do this. I’m begging you, please. Please! 

Beep. Beep. Beep. 

As you felt his heart beating in his chest again and heard it on the AED, you felt as if yours started beating again too. You stopped the chest compressions and moved your head close to his face, trying to see if he was breathing. A soft, subtle puff of air was being released from his nose every couple of seconds and you saw in shock as wet drips were falling on his beautiful, ethereal face.

Acid rain leaking from your eyes, pouring like tropical storms, never-ending, all-powerful and you couldn’t stop, couldn’t make them stop. You were wailing, crying harder than you ever have before as the man you loved came back from the dead, as his heartbeat was weak, but nevertheless present on your fingertips that were pushing against his throat, as your other hand went to his cheek that you caressed, trying to figure out if this was real, if he was really back. Your wails were so loud they were hurting your ears, but you couldn’t stop, you couldn’t make yourself stop, all you felt was enormous, earth-shattering grief, all the sorrow you suppressed flooding all of your senses, clouding your mind, pushing anything else down, melting it into the ground. The ache was coursing through your veins, poisoning every cell in your body until the was nothing left but this - it. You should be happy, you should be relieved, but as you watched the man you have known, you have loved every single day of your unpredictable, crazy, mercurial life, you realised how close he was, how close you were to losing him forever, to losing everything that kept you sane, kept you going. 

You saw it all: washing his dead body, preparing him for the funeral, removing his bracelet, the bracelet that signified your love and your bond, the family dressed in mournful garbs, having to let him go, giving his body to the ocean, having to sing his songcord one last time, never being able to see him again, only having to settle for scraps, for a memory, or for a vision at the Spirit Tree. You saw yourself, a widow forever, never being able to move on, never being able to be happy, ever again, because he was happiness, and he was everything and he was gone. You saw your future - never having children, because if they weren’t his - what was the point? You saw his family, ruptured and torn apart by the loss of their son, their sibling, their hero, their best friend. You saw Lo’ak, carrying the guilt for the rest of his life, rebelling against his father, going on a dark path it was near impossible to turn him back from. You saw Neytiri, broken after another loss, the worst loss a mother could ever feel, never fully recovering, never truly being the same again. You saw Tuk and Kiri withdraw into themselves, the light they carried with them everywhere they went snuffed out at the calamitous loss. You saw it all and it killed you, it gutted you from the inside out. 

But he was here. He was still here. Everything you saw, every nightmare your mind made you watch, laughing as you suffered, revelling in it, like it always was, it was just that - a nightmare. A parallel universe you never had to live through. Because he was here. He’s just sleeping. 

You knew you didn’t have time to waste. You had to go back, you had to warm his body and clean his wounds, you had to remove any scraps the bullet left behind in his organs, you had to give him blood. There was still too much to do, and he needed you. You didn’t have time to fully fall apart just yet. 

“Tsireya, we need to take him back to the village, we need to go, now. Just help me put him on Neyn, please.”

“I…I’ve never been on an Ikran before.” 

If you weren’t so dazed and out-of-your-mind, you would have scoffed at that. 

“Oh, I think you have, too.”

You didn’t have to look at the Metkayina girl to feel the embarrassment in her cheeks and her tail swish vigorously. 

“I’ll make sure your parents know this is the first time, ok? I’m a great liar. Just please get on.”

Between the two of you, you managed to place Neteyam’s still unmoving, still unconscious body on your beautiful banshee, and you all got on, trying your best to cage his body so that he wouldn’t fall. 

“I’ll tell her to go slow and steady, just hold on to her kuru (queue) and you’ll be fine.”

Ok, sweet girl. We have to get back. Please go gently. Hurry.

Neyn trilled in your direction, and you can tell she was worried and stressed through the bond. You didn’t know if it was just a mirror of your own mind or if she was feeling it too. Neyn loved Neteyam. He was always nice to her, and considerate and attentive. Neyn also loved Seze, and the thought of Seze being without her chosen Na’vi, being alone, the rest of her life, hurt Neyn. It hurt you, too. It hurt you so badly, in fact, your body was convulsing slightly, pain deep within your abdomen, that almost made your ikran lose her focus, and she wobbled a little midair, which made Tsireya scream. 

“It’s alright, you’re ok. We’re ok.”

You rushed to your marui as soon as Neyn landed and you saw Seze make her way to you as well. Poor girl. You and Neteyam might not have a spirit brother like Lo’ak now did, but these two, they were it for you. You and Neteyam had a bond with your ikran that transcended time, space and species, and you would never be able to replace them, as long as you lived. 

The first thing you needed was blood. He needed blood. You got out an empty blood bag and the tube, as well as a needle and syringe. You’d have to work fast, and you’d have to operate on him while the blood was being withdrawn, which will hurt, but you had to take the risk, he didn’t have much time. 

“Tsireya, listen to me. I need to give Neteyam blood. My blood. I need you to take that little ribbon and tighten it around my arm, below my bracelet. It needs to be so tight it hurts, do you understand? When I tell you, you need to remove it. Then, as soon as I put the needle in and the blood starts flowing, we will need to clean him and I will patch him up, ok?” 

Tsireya looked lost and trembling, her bottom lip quivering uncontrollably, but she nodded meekly, looking around at all the things she did not understand or know, deep panic on her features.

“Good girl.” As soon as she did what you asked, you found a vein and watched as deep, violent red liquid flowed softly from your body to the bag. The Metkayina girl gasped, but said nothing, just looking at the blood like in a trance, removing the tourniquet when you told her.

“It’s ok. This will help him. But we need to hurry. It takes about ten minutes for it to fill, maybe a bit longer since I will be using my arm at the same time.” 

You got to work immediately, cleaning and disinfecting the area where he lay, prepping all of your tools and asking Tsireya to be your scrub nurse for the day. You cleaned his body, bloodied and bruised, trying to not focus on how it was making you nauseous, making your mind sick and dizzy with worry and pain, and you knew you shouldn’t be doing this. You were too emotionally involved to be the one doing this, but there was no one else. Not Norm, not Max. Not Claire, or Tim, no one else. You took the scalpel and made a cut into his skin, asking Tsireya to cauterise wherever she saw bleeds. She was naturally good at this, you noted and you smiled at this girl who has only known you and Neteyam for a few months and yet here she was, crying and shaking, doing everything in her power to save your family from harm. You knew Lo’ak was a big reason for it, but not the only reason. You really liked her. 

You diligently removed all the shards and shrapnel the bullet left behind, and sutured every layer until his back was patched up. Somehow, the bullet missed his heart, and the main arteries, which you felt was Eywa’s doing. It had to be. Eywa wanted him to live, she had to. Because this wasn’t balance. Nothing about your lives has ever been balanced, and it would take a lot of good to equilibrate all the fucked up shit both you and him, your entire family has been through. So Neteyam had to live. 

Once the blood bag was full, you removed the needle from your body and got up, realising quickly you shouldn’t be standing up, falling to the ground with a thud. Shit. You once again had to turn to Tsireya for help, and she managed to hang the bag somewhere above you, so that the liquid could flow freely into Neteyam’s body. You waited until you turned him chest up, and then inserted the needle, allowing the blood to move through his now beating heart. Your blood. Your blood ran through his body, through his heart. Your blood will save him, like your hands did, like your body had to. You were about to collapse after losing so much, but knowing you were the reason he was still here empowered you. It was just you and him. Just you and him, in this whole world, for the rest of time.

It was hard having to turn him upside down without disturbing him or hurting him further, but eventually you and Tsireya managed to, and you did the same procedure on his chest, until that was also completely closed and clean. Your hands were trembling, and your suture ruptured a few times in his body, and it took every ounce of self-restrain you had to not cry, not to collapse in a puddle on the floor, to not scream in agony, not ask the Universe what the hell could you have ever done to deserve going through all of this? Nobody should have to go through having to lose a dad and a mate in one day, no one should have to fight tooth and nail to keep them from crossing to the other side, to patch their brokenness, whilst yours flourished and bloomed like deadly nightshade. You had to endure more in 19 years than most people do in their lives, more grief embellished your being than there were beads adorning Na’vi bodies. You were feeling sorry for yourself, and for once in your life, you didn’t want to stop, you didn’t want to have to pull yourself back together, you didn’t want to be strong anymore. You were tired. 

When you finished, you were spent, hours upon hours passing you by. You felt pain in your body everywhere, kicking at your insides like a monster waiting to crawl out of you with every push. You were cramping and the whole world turned around you, and you knew you were going to pass out from exhaustion. You went to your mat, anxiety enveloping you in knowing there was nothing else you could possibly do for Neteyam at the moment, and called for your turquoise friend. 

“Tsireya, when…if… the family gets back, you tell them they need to call Norm and Max. Tell them they need to get here as soon as possible. I can’t do this by myself.” You felt the world dissolving before you as you spoke, and allowed it to fully dissipate away from view, embracing the feeling of nothingness, because nothing meant no pain, and no images of your dead mate, and your dead dad, and you were happy with that. 

You woke up in a daze, faintly recognising the slur of voices blending together into one indistinctive blabber, that you tried with your whole might to decipher. You tried to open your eyes, but they were so heavy it felt like lifting weights back in the lab complex as a human. Eventually, your senses recovered and you were able to both see and hear the Sullys, as well as Norm and Max chatting to each other, huddled over Neteyam’s body. 

“She’s awake!” Tuk’s voice startled you, and seeing her approaching you excitedly tugged at your heart. My Tuk-tuk…

“Oh, Great Mother, thank you! Ma ‘ite!” Neytiri crouched next to your limp body and hugged you, and you winced as every part of you she was touching hurt. You saw scratches and bruises all over your body from the battle, that you were too preoccupied to notice before. 

“Sa’nok.” She sobbed in your chest, releasing all the anguish of thinking she has lost two kids in one night. “I’m ok, sa’nok. I’m here.” 

“You saved him! You saved him, I thought we lost him! I thought I lost him!” Her cries were ringing painfully in your ear, the sadness in them close to tearing you apart. 

“Is he…?” 

Jake came over and kneeled next to you, tears in his own eyes. The whole family looked exhausted, spent, physically and mentally, and you counted them quickly, sighing deeply when you found them all to be here, in the tent. 

“He’s still asleep, kid. What happened?” 

“I should ask you the same thing.” 

You moved next to Neteyam, holding his hand, just needing to feel him, and his now much stronger pulse, and spent the next while explaining everything you have had to do and watched as their mouths got progressively more agape in shock. Then they watched yours do the same as Jake told you what happened on the ship. 

“He’s dead, kid. He’s finally dead. Whatever else happens, at least Quaritch will never haunt this family ever again.” 

Your eyes immediately moved to Spider, and you felt a tinge of sadness for the boy who also had to lose his father, just like you have. No matter what, no matter what atrocities this man committed, you knew better than most than the love doesn’t go away, it runs deep and the water of an underwater cavern, hidden from view and light, but there, nevertheless. You were surprised, though, when upon looking at him, you saw him shifting uncomfortably, looking everywhere but you and your family, picking at his cuticles. It was a bad habit you shared, but one that gave away nervousness, anxiety - guilt. What the hell did you do, Spider?

“How long have I been out?”

“About a day?” 

You turned to Max and Norm, who were dutifully listening to everything, and you could tell how overwhelming it all was to them, how crazy and mind numbing and revolting. But it was life, your life. Your life. 

“How is he?”

All of the attention shifted back onto Neteyam, who looked like he was resting. He looked… happy. Peaceful. You hoped whatever he was going through, it was better than this abusive reality, and you hope he could finally rest, until he was ready to come back to you. 

“He’s in a coma, Ace.” You gasped a little, and another stabbing pain shot through you. “Look here.” He rose the portable EEG he had in his hands and scanned Neteyam’s brain from a distance. 

Your breath stopped as you took in the information on the screen.

“He’s in a hypoxic-ischaemic coma.” 

“W-what does that mean?” 

You gulped loudly before you answered Jake. 

“It means that his brain didn’t have enough oxygen after his heart stopped.” What you didn’t want to tell him is how few people actually come back from that, and come back the same way they left. You exchanged a look with Norm and saw the imperceptible head shake he gave in your direction, and once again, felt pain stabbing you everywhere in your body. 

“B-but he’ll be alright, no? He’ll wake up and it’ll be alright?” 

You lied to yourself as much as to them. “Yes. Yes, he’ll be alright.” 

Neteyam woke up startled, deep nightmares still fresh in his mind, nightmares of a battle, of a ship, of blood dripping over him and on the floor, pain shooting through him ceaselessly. Images of his mother screaming that haunted him, images of your forlorn face as the last thing on his mind before it all ended. He breathed a sigh of relief as he took in the familiar beauty of your meadow and took in the two small bodies resting against his own, nuzzled in his chest. He was ok. Everything was ok. He was home, his kids were safe. The voice humming peacefully blessed his ears, and he knew then that you were also safe. It was just a nightmare. 

He quietly untangled himself from his kids’ grasps, that ended up cuddling each other back to sleep, paying little mind to their dad. He took in the sight that swelled his heart so much he felt it was going to explode out of his chest. He has never been happier. He couldn’t imagine life getting any better. 

“I didn’t know if you’d come back.” Your voice was soft and angelic, like it always was, but your words confused him. 

“What do you mean? Where else would I go?” 

You sighed, but patted the spot next to you so he could join you. You looked over at the two little beings sleeping peacefully a few feet from you.

“So these are our kids, huh?”

Further confusion enwrapped Neteyam like a quilt. He didn’t understand most words that were coming out of your mouth. 

“So you want two kids? Not three? I always thought you wanted a whole football team.” You say almost to yourself, laughing a little with your hand brought to your mouth in amusement. 

“Atan, what is going on? I don’t understand what you are saying. You’re acting like you don’t know our kids.” 

You smiled a little in his direction, a sorrowful smile, but as you brought your hand up to his face and caressed his cheek in the way you always did, in the way that calmed his mind and set his skin ablaze, all the worry left him. 

“They’re beautiful. So beautiful. Perfect mix of you and me. You know, I used to think about our kids, think about the impossible scenario that you and me could bring life into this crazy world, but they’re so much better than my imagination ever was. Pure and good, unlike the world they’ll never get to see.”

Neteyam didn’t have time to question you, not when the little bundles of joy in question rose sleepily and tackled you both, squeals and happy screams filling up the forest. 

“Mummy! Daddy! You’re both here! We missed you, mum!” 

“Did you, now?” Neteyam looked at you, and you looked like you were struggling to adjust to the new development, like you were trying to thread the ground and the situation carefully. You looked…uncomfortable. Why were you uncomfortable around your own children? Neteyam’s seen you with Tuk a million times, you were great with children. He couldn’t help the seed of doubt and fear that was growing in his belly, making him nervous. What was going on?

“Let’s swim, all of us! We haven’t swam together in a long time!” Tsyeym pushed to her feet and grabbed you both with all her might, trying to will you towards the river. He watched as you relented, and eventually got up, grabbing her on the way and bringing her up into your arms. 

“Wait a second. Let me have a look at you.” You analysed the little girl, your little girl, every feature and freckle on her face. You poked her small nose with your index finger and traced it on her face, on her perfect pink plush lips and her yellow eyes, to her braided hair. You gently grabbed her queue and laughed a little as Tsyeym shrieked - it tickled her. “So you’re my little baby girl? You are the most beautiful thing in the world, aren’t you?” You turned to Neteyam, and he noticed you holding back tears. You looked happy. “She has my eyes. My mother’s eyes.” 

Neteyam nodded, confusion still gnawing at him. “Of course she does. Your eyes are the most incredible things I have ever seen in my life. They are like treasures - my treasures.” 

“Just like she is.” You held her against your chest and Neteyam watched as his daughter made a home out of it, so stuck to you he didn’t think he could ever separate you again. 

“Tsyeym (treasure). That should be her name.”

“Atan… that is her name.” 

“And what about this mighty warrior?” Kalin ran to his mother, grabbing onto your leg and holding on, attaching himself to you much like Tsyeym did. You kneeled, with Tsy still in your arms, and did a similar inspection of his son as you just did a few minutes ago. You took him by the hand and twirled him around, taking in every aspect of his being. “Look at this hair! My hair. Tsyeym has your hair, but he has mine. And look at those stripes, just like mummy and daddy, like a little tiger. Come here.” You kissed his entire face, starting with his nose and all around, ending with his human-coloured eyes and the top of his head.

“Why do you taste so sweet? You’re a sweetie pie, aren’t you? You’re mine, my sweet.”

You looked up at Neteyam, like you just had the most brilliant idea. “Kalin!! His name has to be Kalin (Sweet to the taste)!” 

Why did you keep doing that? Those were their names, their names you gave them at birth. He was going to ask you what the hell was going on with you, when a loud sound boomed in the sky. It sounded like thunder, but not quite. It must have been thunder, what else could it be? The kids screaming got his undivided attention, and he rushed to their side to comfort them both, grabbing Kalin is his arms and holding him while he saw you doing the same with your baby girl. 

“Shh, it’s alright. It’s alright, we’re alright.” 

“What was that?”

“My love, you need to remember. Please. I’m here for you.”

“I know you are, Atan. I just don’t know what you want me to remember. Can you please tell me?” 

“I can’t, Neteyam. You have to figure it out yourself. You have to try harder. We don't have a lot of time. Please. I am here for you.” 

The river adventure removed the anxiety rising in Neteyam’s chest, and he concluded the boom he heard was just particularly nasty thunder. Thunderstorms were not uncommon in the forest, and the sooner his babies got used to them and realised they were nothing to be afraid of - the better. There was no reason to let it come between them and the perfect day they were having. After a couple hours, you were all soaked, so much laughter and joy Neteyam’s mouth hurt from how much it was stretching to accommodate the unwavering smile refusing to leave his face. Eventually, his family was all too tired to go on, and you all stretched on the grass, huddled together, arms and legs intertwined so thoroughly, it was impossible to tell who was who anymore. 

“Mummy, can you sing for us? It’s nap time!” 

“Is it nap time already? Sure, sweets. I can sing.” 

In her waters, deep and true

Lie the answers and a path for you

Dive down deep into her sound

But not too far or you'll be drowned

“Neteyam…” you were hunched over your mate’s body, alone with just him, alone at last to pour your soul out and hope he would hear you, hope there was a chance. You had to try. 

“Neteyam… please. I know you are in pain, and I know how much this life takes and takes from you. I know you’re probably at peace wherever you are, but you can’t leave me. I can’t do this without you. I know it’s selfish, so selfish, but I need you to please come back to me. I love you so much, and I’m trying so hard, but you have to come back. I can’t live knowing all I’ll ever get is scraps of you, scraps of us. Not after everything we’ve been through. Not after I’ve seen the future, so clear and bright in my head. Not after knowing everything I’ll lose if I lose you.” 

You walked to the edge of the platform and sat down next to your favourite two scientists, that you were so happy to see, and so sad it was always under such undesirable circumstances. 

“How is he?” 

“Pretty much the same.” You dunked your feet in the water with a sigh, looking at the way the fish swam in between them, some of them tickling you as they went past. 

“How are you? We didn’t even get to give you a check and make sure everything’s alright. You gave him a lot of blood.”

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me. I did what I had to do.”

“You saved his life, Ace. He was dead and you brought him back to life. You did it.” 

“Maybe. Maybe I just revived his heart so he could be a vegetable for the rest of time. Maybe all I did is prolong the inevitable and give his family false hope.”

“Don’t say that. He’ll wake up.” 

You rolled your eyes and huffed annoyed in Max’s direction. 

“Come on, Max. We’re all scientists here. What are the chances someone comes back from hypoxic-ischaemic coma? Roughly 70% of people die. And of the 30% that make it, most of them have severe brain damage, that impacts most aspects of their lives.”

“That’s human statistics, Ace. Human statistics have no business here on Pandora. You know that. You of all people should know that. You died. You were without oxygen for 30 minutes, and you came back, after chatting to your mum in the afterlife and her telling you the cure for a deadly virus. You should have faith, Ace. Faith in yourself, in Neteyam…faith in Eywa.” 

You couldn’t take another word on the subject, not when you were so close to fully breaking down in front of them, so you chose another - easier to digest, if not as hard to talk about. 

“Did Jake and Neytiri go get my dad?” 

“Yes. They all went. They should be back soon.”

“Lo’ak said you… went to save him. What happened?” 

“He… he’s not who I thought he was. Not who I spent my whole life hating. I was wrong about him. I was so wrong.” 

You told them everything that happened after he left you the message, and they listened attentively and gasped softly at every turn of events. 

“I… I couldn’t save him. He bled out in front of me. I will never get a chance to make it right. He’ll never get a chance to make it right. I wanted him to stay. I thought we could finally be a family. I thought I could allow him to finally have a daughter, a daughter that stays, a daughter that he got to watch live. I wanted him to be a grandpa. I imagined him teaching my kids about Earth, babysitting when Neteyam and I wanted time for ourselves. I don’t know why, but I feel like he would have been the best grandpa. He saved us, he saved me. He was redeeming himself, he could have been one of the people. We were supposed to be a family. I was supposed to have a family.” 

You didn’t even realise you were crying until Norm reached over and wiped the tears off your face with his thumb. They didn’t have anything to say. There was nothing, no comforting words, no words of encouragement that would ever mend this, that would ever make this less painful than it was. 

Your attention shifted onto the Tsurak that flew above water, a burst of orange in a sea of blue. Behind it were a couple of ilu and in the air, Neytiri’s ikran was flying majestically. 

Jake reached your marui first, followed closely by the rest of the Sullys. You got up to help him unload your dad’s body, wrapped beautifully in mangrove leaves and colourful shroud and placed on a stretcher made out of woven tree branches. 

He was hidden from you, but it didn’t matter - your imagination was more than enough to paint him right in front of your mind’s eye, bloated and bloodied, wet and dirty from having been left on a rock for 2 days. You just left him there. By himself. You passed out and left your own dad to rot, the same way he did the first time - alone. Your mind was torturing you, the way it always loved to, and you knew this image would be tattooed in your brain, alongside that of Neteyam’s eyes going vacant as you watched, for as long as you lived. No matter how much you healed, no matter how much old nightmares faded, there were always new ones to take their place, new nightmares to show you you will never outrun your trauma. Not now, not soon, not for the rest of your life. 

“We talked to Tonowari and Ronal, baby girl. We explained, we told them what Lo’ak and Spider told us, about how your dad fought alongside us, how he saved your lives, and he will be allowed a Metkayina funeral. This way he will be with Eywa.”

Your tears that never ceased multiplied, and you couldn’t help the sob that escaped your lips. 

“Thank you.” You ran into Jake’s arms and he hugged you tightly, stroking your hair gently in a comforting gesture. “Thank you so much. Thank you.” 

“Of course, kid. Your dad was a good man, and he deserves to be with your mother again.” 

You brought him to the Tsahik’s tent, and watched as they undid all the wrappings, until he was in view, and although not as bad as you imagined, he didn’t look good. You knew decomposition worked faster in water than on land, but you never thought you’d have to witness it first hand, and definitely not with your dad. 

“Go, kid. We can clean him up.”

You shook your head, not removing your eyes from his body. You left him there, you had to do this.

You knelt on the ground next to him, and Ronal guided you through the required steps and rituals, until he was ready, a few hours later. He looked a lot better when you were done, and you smiled softly, allowing the salty tears to stain your mouth. He looked peaceful. You didn’t think he felt peace in his whole life, so you were at least grateful he could experience it now. 

“We will do the funeral ceremony tonight. We will take him to the Cove of the Ancestors after Eclipse.” 

Another stabbing pain shot through you, and you wondered how much longer your body would keep going under this amount of strenuous stress. How long until all this heartbreak broke your body down beyond repair? 

You returned to your tent, getting ready for the ceremony, allowing your family to paint you in funeral markings, allowing them to dress you in ceremonial garbs, an ornate shawl covering your shoulders - all while you were holding Tuk in your lap. You were cold, you noted absentmindedly. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt cold, but there is was - shivers, like ice water in your veins, running down your spine, extending to each extremity, making a home in your bones. 

You needed Neteyam. You needed him to be here, you needed him to be your light, to guide you through this time, to hold you and keep you warm as you had to give your dad to the sea, and say goodbye - forever. But he didn’t budge from his spot on the mat, breathing in and out deeply and regularly. He’s just sleeping. Just sleeping.

Neteyam was cold as he woke up from another horrible dream, a similar dream, a deathly dream he couldn’t shake from his mind no matter how much he tried. He kept being pulled in and out of consciousness, it seemed, and he wondered meekly if anything was wrong. Some things felt wrong. Just a little wrong. He took a look at you, buried in his arms, sleeping peacefully next to him, and gasped as your face brought back another dream, so vivid and lucid, it was like it wasn’t a dream at all, like it was a… a memory. 

As much as he missed home, Neteyam had to admit little managed to beat waking up in this marui, where the sun was shining through the intricate web of fabrics, creating colourful moving patterns and where the salty air cleared his nose immediately and woke him up with newfound enthusiasm for a new day of discovering all the new ways this place differed from his own. His entire family was fast asleep, and he sighed contently when he felt your breath tickling his neck and your arms and legs draped loosely across his body. He couldn’t help the excited movement of his tail taking you in, knowing he got to wake up next to you every day, that he’d never have to live without this feeling ever again, that he got to call you his mate, his light… his. For life. He kissed the top of you head and watched as you stirred, waking up from your slumber with a haphazard stretch of all your limbs. When your amber eyes met his and your tired smile made its way to your lips, his heart stopped. You were so beautiful. 

“Good morning, my love. Did anyone ever tell you it’s ok to not wake up at the crack ass of dawn?” 

He smiled, trying to keep quiet so as to not disturb the rest of his family. 

“I’m too excited to see you to sleep, Atan.”

You rolled your eyes at him, letting out an amused scoff. He rolled on top of you, pinning you down with his body. You gasped at the feeling of his hard-on rubbing against your core and he smiled at the way your pupils immediately dilated and your breath shallowed, rolling your hips to meet his. 

“Atan, it’s the crack ass of dawn, what are you doing?” 

“You started it.” 

“You’re insatiable, you know that?” 

“Hey, I have had to live for years wanting you and not being able to have you. You have a lot to make up for.” 

He laughed again and laughed some more when you pressed your hand tightly against his mouth as his mother turned slightly in her sleep.

“How about we go for a swim, just you and me? Then I’ll make it up to you for as long as you like.”

You raised your head slightly to close the gap in between you and the kiss brought life into him, brought light into every corner of his being until there was nothing left of him but this feeling, the feeling of you overtaking his every sense. 

He was panting as the dream faded, panic overtaking him. What was that? It felt so real. So raw. Not a dream. A memory. Your amber eyes, your blue striped skin. He looked at the version of you sleeping in his arms, human, the same human he’s known all his life, the human he fell in love with. The skin he traced with his eyes, the freckles adorning it that Neteyam knew by heart, your hair that flowed softly down your back and tickled his arm where it touched it. Your eyes that were your mother’s, the thing you loved most about yourself - that he loved most about you. The body you left behind when you did your consciousness transfer. 

How were you here? In his arms? How was it possible? 

“My love, you need to remember. Please. I’m here for you.”

Remember what? What couldn’t he remember? Why couldn’t he remember? 

“Ace, come here. Look at this.” You were about to leave for your dad’s funeral when Norm pulled you aside, showing you the EEG scanning Neteyam’s brain waves. “Look at it.” 

You did and your eyes widened as your brain processed what it was seeing. “He’s… seizing?” 

“Those are ictal epileptiform discharges. He’s definitely seizing.”

“But his body is still.”

“Not all seizures manifest the same way. There are non-motor seizures, as well. But the waves don’t lie, Ace. He’s seizing. And we can’t know for sure, because we didn’t see Kiri’s brain when she seized, but I think it’s the same kind of seizures. She had interictal activity in her prefrontal when we got to her.”

Your brain felt like it was short-circuiting taking in all of the information and trying to process it, at the same time as dealing with the horrible pain shooting through you and the heartbreak of having to bury your dad without your mate by your side. The world was fading around you, but you knew you had to push through, at least until the end of the ceremony. 

If Neteyam’s seizures were the same as Kiri’s, maybe the coma was a lot more than what they thought, than what you thought. Maybe it has something to do with Eywa. Could it be? That he was trapped, just like your mum had been? Could it be that you could find him? Finally see him again? That you could get him back?

Your body quickly caught up to you as the pain became unbearable, and you screamed loudly without meaning to as you felt cramping in your abdomen, like life was being torn away from you with every second passing. The marui and everyone around it quickly disappeared from view, and you felt yourself collapse to the ground and into deep slumber. Maybe you could finally rest. 

You woke up confused and numb. The world slowly came back into focus, as did your family members going in between you and Neteyam, unable to figure out who they should worry for at any current moment. You glanced at your arm and then above you, and said a silent prayer of gratitude for Norm and Max, who decided to give you some morphine for the pain. As Lo’ak took note of your cognisance, he let out a scream that came out more like a pained yelp. 

“She’s awake. She’s awake.” 

Jake rushed to your side and took your face in both his hands, alarmingly checking on you, eyes darting over every piece of you they could cover. Then a look of deep sorrow replaced his previous one, and you felt the panic rise in you once more, not enough morphine in the world to keep the ugly feeling at bay. 

“What happened?” Was Neteyam ok? Was everyone ok? What else could possibly be wrong? It didn’t feel like there was anything in this world that could make this whole ordeal somehow worse.

“You… You passed out, kid.”

Norm’s body was trailing all around you, checking on your vitals and on the other IV you know realised were flowing into your body from various sites. 

“Just please tell me. You’re looking at me like you have something to tell me, and I just need to know. Please. I just need to know.” 

“I’m so sorry, baby girl. I’m so, so sorry.” 

Your entire family encircled you, holding onto you, your arms, your hands, your legs. Looking at you sorrowfully, mournfully, and you felt like you were one sentence away from passing out again. 

Max spoke. “The stress… everything you went through the past couple of days, it put a lot of strain on your body. A lot more than it could take.”

“Honey… you had a miscarriage.” 

You were wrong, you thought as you felt the consciousness slip away from your grasp once more. There was one thing in this world that could make this whole ordeal somehow worse.

Taglist (thank you ily x) @changing7 @erenjaegerwifee @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @winchestertitties @puffb4ll @rebeccao03 @ultimatebluff @cottoncandy23 @zaddyneteyamlovergirl @n3t3y4msm4t3 @loquatious-josephi-krakousky @eternallyvenus @fresh-new-yoik-watah @lu-the-ghost-reader @@miawastakens @mm0thie @fanboyluvr @amortencjja @lovekeeho @trixscarlett

*poem by Nikki Ursula - Seventy Years of Sleep #4

[seat-safety-switch]

New cars are insanely expensive. Perhaps you’re not aware of this. I certainly was not, having been raised from birth on a succession of rust-weeping, barely operable automobiles. So you can imagine my surprise when I walked into a dealership recently (the city shut off my water, so I had to use their bathroom) and got an eyeful of the price stickers on these suckers. For the same amount of money that your ancestors would spend on Louisiana, you too could have a depressing luxury crossover.

You can argue about the motivation behind this ridiculous state of affairs. Is it financialization writing obscene loans at unsustainably low interest rates? Maybe it’s wage deflation, driving the average suburbanite to buy luxury goods in order to feel like they are important, despite being paid significantly less than they would have in 1976.

Or, and this is the one the car companies like to tell you, it’s because of all those safety features. Ah yes, the government forces us to include airbags, seatbelts, backup cameras, and collision mitigation. It’s their fault. If only we had no regulation at all, we could all drive around in $400 Power Wheels with lead-acid batteries like our business partners in China. And if we got rid of drivers’ licenses, imagine how many more people could buy them!

This line of argument does make a little bit of sense. For instance, my cars are hilariously unsafe, and they were very inexpensive. However, this is coming from the same folks that told you adding a $30 6-CD changer to a car costs $5000 and requires you to get a different colour of paint. And despite this state of affairs, they are racking up mega profits. Maybe – just maybe – we shouldn’t be listening to them about this particular fact, especially if the backup camera kept you from driving over an errant toddler this morning. (That would never happen to me: I would notice immediately as the child tears through the paper-thin rusty steel of my trunk, and ends up embedded in my glovebox, where they could later be safely removed and trained in welding and bodywork.)

[moodymisty]

Hi, if you're still taking requests for warhammer, would you be willing to write an x Reader with peterturbo or knorad?

Author's Note: Ok, so I decided to go with Perturabo, simply because as fun as it would be for me to write a Konrad fic because I enjoy writing horrible bloody angst, I didn't know if you'd be comfortable with that damage, anon. But then again... You did request him. (I also have no right to diss tastes in primarchs I love Angron lmao)

Anyways, ✨ Perturabo ✨. Enjoy. He's a raging cunt. But I love him uwu

Summary: Peturabo learns of Dorn's ascendancy to Praetorian of Terra, and you attempt to flee the boiling rage.

Relationships: Perturabo/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Perturabo's shit fucking attitude, Romance mixed with toxicity, Yandere!Perty if you squint real hard, General 40kness aka mentions of war and death, This would probably classify as an abusive/toxic relationship lmao, Witnessing Peturabo's slow descent into chaos IRL

Word Count: 1095

The library aboard the Iron Blood is monstrous. Any library you perused as a child has always paled to such a degree, that you need not even bring it up in comparison. Shelves tower over you that even looking fully upward doesn't show their full height, and behind them massive stained glass windows showing the unforgiving void of space. Stars glitter in the distance, or the occasional planet. Be it inhabited or not.

Little servo-skulls buzz overhead, most of them holding some form of parchment as they go about their secular duties. There's a Tech Priest fiddling away with their business that looks in your direction for a moment, before going back to their work. You can hear the faintest humming coming from them- mumbling in what you can only guess is machine language.

You could get lost in it all. Which is partly the goal.

You're avoiding him.

You had the moment you heard it, mumbled by Astartes having just felt their Primarch's own wrath.

Rogal Dorn, Primarch of the Imperial Fists, has been cast to construct the Imperial palace of Terra.

The moment you'd heard that news coming from the lips of a battered Iron Warrior, rattled physically in his armor to such a degree that he seems to have some form of brain damage, you knew you'd hear it from Perturabo's own booming voice if you didn't run. To be at the end of a Primarch's own barely contained rage, not even considering the idea of physical violence, is enough to make you scatter to hide from him. There's no amount of love that could smother that primal fear.

In the shadowed alley between shelves and shelves of tomes, your eyes cast towards the floor.

You remember one night when he was listless, he had knelt at your bedside and took your hand in his own- speaking of his plans to build a palace so obscenely grand all else would pale in comparison. Bath houses, amphitheaters, training arenas, it was like he was there himself, in the vast ambition of his own mind. Denied ambitions for Olympia mixing with his endless ambition for the future.

He promised you some of them that night; Saying things so grandiose you found yourself nearly crushed underneath the weight of them. He was promising you so, so much, gifting you a gilded future with a stern, far off look in his eyes and his fingers now tight around your jawline. Your own fingers had gently laid against his hand, so much smaller and softer than his own.

To have that dream shattered, so suddenly and so wretchedly by the man who's been Perturabo's similar in a way that infuriates him to no conceivable end; You know just as well as anyone else aboard the Iron Blood that he was to be avoided.

As when Perturabo is angry, there’s almost always a layer of bitterness underneath. A gripe, vile taste in his mouth, defeat from once again being assigned a role he seems hateful of. Or a role he's been denied.

The book bindings feel cold against your fingertips. These are largely battle logs, transcripts of recent battles created by the Tech Priests aboard. Most knowledge about the Iron Warriors history is stored much more safely in the chapter's Librarium. It's not to say these aren't interesting however; As someone who's duty is to the collecting of this information, you find the whole thing to be intriguing. But perhaps now isn't the time to take such interest in it.

You hear footsteps. Far too heavy to be any rank and file Astartes, and they hammer down with a level of anger that has your head shrinking into your neck.

You barely have time to pull your hand away from the tome binding you'd just been fondling, before you see him. You're instantly in his shadow, the light between these massive isles far dimmer than what is in the central area. And unless you were to try and dart right between his legs, you've nowhere to run. It's not as if you want to run from him, you love him, but you know how he can lose himself at times.

"You are avoiding me." You can see the barely contained anger on his face. You don't know if it's at Dorn, or at you.

"Why." You hold your voice firm so it doesn't crack, refusing to allow it to.

"I thought you would want your space." His brow furrows. The scars across his face shift, the one across his lip most so. You can always feel that one in the rare moments you kiss him.

"So you know." How couldn't you? The entire Imperium is privy, something this significant has spread over vox and every other form of communication at disposal. They all know Dorn is the Praetorian of Terra, not Perturabo.

Damn them to the Warp. He doesn’t need any of it. All he needs are the plans in his head, and you.

He kneels before you, and it takes everything within you to not do a back step. But when he reaches a hand out towards you, you gently take it. Your feet move of their own accord as he pulls you closer to him, until his armored shin is nearly touching you. Peturabo has always been massive- he's a primarch, but his armor adds so much bulk that it makes him nearly inhuman.

"I will give you all of that which I promised you."

Your eyes catch his, pools of brown looking down at you. His warmth is in there somewhere, you think; Can you find it? Or is it already gone?

You try to whisper his name, whisper Bo- but it comes out so quiet that your voice doesn't even sound out, your lips just forming the silent word as a fruitless, pathetic effort. His hand is tight around your own, it almost begins to hurt. You doubt you'd be able to yank it from his grip if you'd even wanted to.

"No matter how many planets I have to level, or how much blood I need to spill,"

This isn't for you; This is for his own endless ambition, his own need to prove he's everything that he says he is and so, so much more. His hand finally lets go of yours and cups your jaw- but the metal is cold and unforgiving like iron, so unlike the rough, scarred but warm skin underneath. He's promising you the future but you don't want it, you just want him.

"You will have it."

[seasidepierre]

You and Lando/Charles (idk if you write for Lando) just found out you’re pregnant after trying for months. You’re so happy 🫶🏽

For as long as you've known Charles and started dating him, you've known he wanted to become a dad and he'd be stellar at the job. If for the first four years of your relationship you've thought you both were too young to be responsible of a small kid, you've been swayed when Charles invited you to his family's Christmas reunion and you had spent most of your time watching him look after his little cousin, the little girl enamored with him with her big blue eyes and blonde curls. He had been so gentle and so happy that the next time he had brought the subject of having a baby one day, you said "let's try then" and he had almost cried in your arms.

But since then, and despite Charles' diligent help and work (not that he minded, let's be honest), the different pregnancy tests had all been negative, whether they stated only one little line or a loud "Not Pregnant", you failed to make something happen. It had been months now of you studying your cycle and your different windows, to no avail. You'd cried your fair share of tears, you'd doubted yourself and your ability to actually carry a child and you'd hovered over the doctor's phone number to call for help an obscene amount of times already.

You'd learned dates like a lesson and you'd almost always had been on time. It was disheartening to say the least.

So when you realised you were more than a week late, you took a test with the dreading feeling that it would come back negative, once again.

Needless to say, when the two lines came out, you broke down in sobs and cursed Charles' job once again for having him thousands of miles away from you.

So you plotted your announcement like a surprise birthday party, because you knew he'd be delighted with the news and you couldn't wait for him to discover the tiniest baby onesie, Ferrari red and number 16 on the back.

You offered your gift to Charles about a week later, when you got him back to your flat, exhausted and with a suitcase full of dirty clothes. He smelled like the airplane and you cringed a little but still, you wrapped your arms around his neck, fishing your little gift bag on the entry's credenza and presenting it to him.

"This for me?" He lazily smiled. "I didn't win, though.."

"You don't have to win to get gifts, my Love," You smiled.

"What is it?"

"Something you've been wanting for a long time."

Charles cried when his hand closed around the pregnancy test, without even seeing it. He dropped to his knees faster than he ever would be in his car.

"Hi, baby Leclerc," He sobbed against your stomach. "This is your Papa and I already love you more than words could tell."