#i turn 19 and my father is dead and he is never coming back and my mother is moving on and I feel like i am the only person in my life who

[milo-is-rambling]

Drove around for an hour after therapy scream singing music and I screamed FUUUCKKK at the top of my lungs a couple times while driving on empty back roads and it didn’t fix me :/

[tiredmamaissy]

Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Chapter Four

An Illustrated Collaboration with @zestys-stuff

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's creator @zestys-stuff.

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19)

Warnings: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, profanity, age gap, sexual tension, size difference/kink, praise kink, fingering, alcohol consumption/drunk character, mating, oral sex (both receiving), p in v, virginity loss, blood, marking/biting, let me know if i forgot anything?

Word Count: 15k (i think, i dont even know at this point)

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: Guys, I'm so sorry this one took so long. I hope it's worth the wait. I tried to proofread this but the app keeps crashing and I lost my progress thrice. So forgive me for any typos and errors. I'll probably go through it with fresh eyes tomorrow and fix them. Enjoy 🤍🤍

Synopsis: Your family seeks uturu with the Metkayina in the village of Awa’atlu. You have a difficult time adjusting, and are assigned your own special teacher, Ralak.

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“Not today, tahni. I must get you back, now.”

----

You protest, not wanting to go back to the prison with your less-than-understanding father and his two soldiers keeping an eye on your every move. You try to convince Ralak to have a conversation with your father, but he insists that won’t do anything. Jake is a man of action, and he would need to prove himself to Toruk Makto – prove that he is worthy of mating with his daughter.

To do things ‘the right way’.

All it took for you to behave was him grabbing your hand, pressing it against his warm, half-hard cock while he looks you dead in the eye.

“Tame Tsurak. And this is yours to do whatever you please with.”

“Oh?” Your lips pucker as you husk the word, brow raising in astonishment.

Of course, Ralak would turn this into a lesson of some sort, saying something along the lines of you being a fast learner and would only need a day to learn. It was laughable really – him saying that you need a week to learn the sign language of his people but less than a day to tame a skimwing.

He clicks for his swimwing, watching as it glides quickly through the water towards him. He takes a few steps back, making space for the large creature to come to a standstill. Ralak approaches it cautiously and respectfully, hand reaching behind him to grip and stroke the length of his kuru.

You’re only now just getting a good look at his kuru, it’s much longer than yours given the stature of this man. His tendrils are a deep pink, very composed and calm, much like Ralak himself. They dance slowly, sporadic movements gaining direction once they sense the kuru of the Tsurak in proximity.

“Bond carefully. Tsurak are not like ilu.” Ralak says, pupils constricting momentarily as the tendrils slowly entwine with one another, making tsaheylu with the scaley, large beast. It shivers vigorously as their breaths synchronize, two beasts becoming one. Ralak takes a sharp breath before swinging his leg over the creature, settling himself graciously on its back. “They deem if the rider is worthy.”

“Oh. I see...” You nod slowly, nerves fraying from the thought of not being worthy enough to tame one.

Ralak motions you to mount the Tsruak, patting it’s back behind him. “Come.” He holds your hand, helping you on before wrapping your arms around his waist. “Hold tight.”

With that, you’re off. The beast glides easily, and slowly through the water, never going underneath. Ralak spends the ride teaching you about the techniques to apply when bonding, mounting, and riding a skimwing. Even how to hold the harness properly, so you’re not pulled off by a water drag.

“Most important. When you dive back in, maintain a good position.” He rambles, demonstrating the diving movement with his hand, fingers pointing downwards.

You listen, but you’re focus is primarily on the way his waist feels in your arms. You savour the sensation, feelings of self-doubt making you think that this may be the last time you’ll touch Ralak in this way. You rest your face into the dip of his back, ear pressed into his skin as you listen to the thump of his heart.

The words echo in your head. “...to do whatever you please with.”

You could do this. You can do this. You’ll do it for him. For your mate.

Ralak slows to a halt a far distance away from your family marui pod, exchanging glares with your two older brothers. Though they were younger than Ralak, he still treats them as equals, respectfully signing ‘I see you’ to them both. Reluctantly, they return the gesture, maintaining their downward glare to the giant. Neteyam stands tall, chest puffed out to appear bigger, whilst Lo’ak’s arms are crossed over his chest, shifting his bodyweight from one leg to the other.

You scoff. Two idiots doing their idiot thing.

“We will meet again, my love.” You whisper, planting a kiss on his back before dismounting the creature to swim around to the mangrove roots.

“My tanhi.” He hums lowly, watching you swim away and climb up the root to the backside of the marui pod. He turns around, diving under the water to leave before your father’s arrival. Your brothers help you up, pushing you inside the pod by a hand on your back.

“You smell even worse.” Neteyam makes the snarky remark whilst grimacing, turning his head away from you.

“Yeah. He’s not joking, sis.” Lo’ak adds with a chuckle, leaning in to get a better whiff. He pulls back dramatically, letting out a loud ‘whoof’ as he turns his head away too.

“Ha-Ha.” You say, imitating the sound of a laugh. “Thanks guys.” You mutter sarcastically, although you really did owe them.

The sound of your father flipping back the flap of the marui averts your attention to the door. All three of you stand in formation, acknowledging the former marine’s presence. He walks past you, lips pursing into a thin line once your scent wafts past him.

“Jeez, y/n. Ya need to take a bath or something. Preferably before tomorrow ‘cause that’s when training with Tsireya starts.” He shifts his glare to his sons, patting them both on the back as he praises them for doing a good job watching you. Another scoff bubbles up your throat, prompting you to roll your eyes and find refuge behind your privacy curtain.

----

Swish. The sound of your privacy curtain being yanked aside, allowing slivers of the first rays of sunlight to shine against your cheek.

“Get up, kid. Time for your lesson with Tsireya.” Jake’s voice beats against your eardrums.

Are you fucking kidding me?

Never have you had a lesson this early. Nor have you had someone wake you up for one. And how many times did you have to speak to your father about privacy? That’s why you sat down for a week straight making these curtains. And by the way everyone keeps yanking and tugging at it, you’ll have to make another sooner than planned. You lift your head groggily, rubbing your right eye with the ball of your palm. Groans of irritation rumble up your throat as you roll over onto your side to ignore your father.

“Hey. Don’t make me come over there.” He jesters, hoping to lighten the mood.

It only makes things worse. How could he joke after locking you away and having his two watchdogs guard over you? He’s taking away the one good thing for you in this wet-land and thinks a joke will make things better?

“Leave. I’ll come out soon.” You mumble into your pillow.

Jakes brows lower in defiance for a moment, and relax when he realises that you’re just hurting. Regardless, this is what he thinks is best for you. You were still his ‘babygirl’. He takes a few steps back before turning around to walk out of the marui. Once you hear his footsteps die out, you rise from your cot and get ready for the day.

----

“Wow, y/n. You have improved so much since I last taught you!” Tsireya exclaims, surprised by your skilful movements.

“Yeah. Ralak was a good teacher.” You smile, tugging the fishnet towards you. Your lips flatten into a line when you realise how that sounds. “Not saying that you weren’t or anything.” You add quickly, staring wide eyed at Tsireya.

“It is okay.” She giggles, two dainty fingers covering her lips.

“Yeah. There’s just something about him. He’s… different.” You smile once more, slowly wrapping the fishnet around on itself, “A good different!”

“I know Ralak, y/n. He is... like a brother to me. Although we don’t talk very much...” Tsireya says, swimming towards the spears on the shore. “I am surprised you two got along for this long.”

Your brows twitch. Brother? What did she mean by that? What does she think even happened?

“I’m going to mate with him.” You blurt out, earning an astonished expression from Tsireya. “When I pass my iknimaya, of course.” You say, knowing that’s not what she’s concerned about.

“You two got along that well?” She questions, reaching for the spears.

“You could say that we confessed to each other in the heat of the moment” You mumble as you work your way to sit on the shore.

“So, why am I teaching you?” Her movements come to halt, inquisitive gaze flicking down at you.

“Dad found out. He is forbidding me from seeing him because I haven’t passed my iknimaya yet.” You twirl a strand of wet loose hair around your pointer finger, “He didn’t even care to ask about the situation. Or if I even need lessons anymore.” You shake your head, watching the hair unravel from your finger.

“I see. I think you two would be good for each other.” She shrugs, staring at the spears for a moment before throwing them back into the sand. She looks at you and smiles, “Has he taught you about our dances?”

Gaze snapping up to hers, a smile stretches your lips as your brows raise in fascination. “Dances?”

Tsireya offers her hand, and you take it, letting her help you up. “Mhm. Our way of dancing. It is very... sensual. It is said that eywa speaks through the soundwaves of the music.” She walks you over to a clearing near the shore.  

Apparently, the musical instruments are sacred, some parts of it harvested from the spirit tree.  And when they are played, the way of Eywa can be felt by those that listen, expressed in bodily movement – dancing. It’s movements manifest erotically, acting as a mating ritual.

It draws in the fated or desired mates of those that partake in the ritual, driving them to find one another and dance together.

“Teach me.”

----

The days go by slowly as Tsireya shows you the sinuous movements of the Metkayina. She explains that it is much like the way of water, gliding and flowing freely with the music. One must allow the music to flow through the body in waves, to slip into a trance like state for your body to sway with the rhythm.

It takes you about a week to learn all the movements. It posed to be an even more difficult task without the music, and just Tsireya’s humming. Of course, this music is only only played on the night of an iknimaya celebration.

Tomorrow is your iknimaya, and Tsireya decides it’s best to run through a few pointers on taming a tsurak. Taming one is not something you practice doing, not like an ilu. You attempt it, and if denied, it is because you have much more to learn. You may try again after further training.

“Your grip is the most important thing. Once it loosens, it is ove –”

“Girls.” The olo’eyktan’s voice booms above you, averting your attention to the three casted shadows on the shore. Your eyes trail up the silhouettes to see Tonowari, your father, and... Ralak. Your heartbeat quickens, body heating up from sensing its desired mate in proximity. You try to play it off, looking down at your knees buried in the sand.

“Father.” Tsireya shuffles to her feet, signing ‘I see you’ to the three men, acknowledging their presence.

You follow slowly after her, eyes now locked onto your feet. “I see you.” You gesture, finally lifting your gaze up to the three men.

Ralak’s brows twitch as his cold eyes trail up your body, doing their best mask his excitement from seeing you. You look beautiful – dressed in clothing native to his people, pearls embellishing your top and a string of shells sewn to the band of your tewng [loincloth]. Braided hair with bright red flowers twisted into it, his chest tightens from seeing you like this.

This is the first time you’ve seen him in a week. He looks... dishevelled. Nothing like he usually looks. Hollow eyes, body enveloped with bruises and scabbed over wounds, you can sense the fracture in his spirit. He looks so, so worn. A heated wrath simmers your blood, making you red in the face.

What have they done to you, my love? You ask him through concerned eyes, breaking your stare to seethe at Tonowari.

Jake could see the upset on your face, lips pursing into a thin line as he squints his eyes, telling you to drop the attitude. But you were vexed with him too. Did he really think you’d be an obedient little soldier? You scoff at the thought, rolling your eyes to land them back onto Ralak, who is also giving you a look.

Now that’s different.

All it takes is a quick raise of his brows and a slight shake of his head to quell your attitude. You huff a small sigh of defeat and drop your irate stare to your feet once more, holding your tongue. You wanted nothing more than to lash out at Tonowari, despite him being the olo’eytan. But you understand that this would only make matters worse.

Jake witnesses this, feeling a little embarrassed about your blatant disregard for his order and not Ralak’s. But he can’t ignore the smidge of respect he’s feeling towards him right now. To be able to handle your rebellious attitude with a simple shake of his head is impressive.

“Iknimaya is tomorrow.” Tonowari speaks, eyes drifting towards the discarded spears.

He’s clearly speaking to you, but you’re too caught up in your own head to even hear him.

“Yes, father. I am confident that she is ready.” Tsireya answers quickly, using her tail to nudge the back of your leg.

“Yes – yes sir. Your daughter taught me well.” You say a little too composed, avoiding eye contact all together.

“Good. We will be on our way then.” Tonowari nods, turning his heel to leave.

Jake follows behind him, throwing one last glare in your direction, whilst Ralak lingers for a second or two. He does one last scan of your body, before locking eyes with you. A soft smile pulls at his lips as he slowly retreats.  

It’s like all the negativity bubbling in your being washes away in an instant, leaving you standing there with a dumb smile on your face. He spins around, walking nonchalantly behind the two olo’eyktans, arms tucked behind his back.

“Did he just – smile?” Tsireya asks, a little dumbfounded.

“Mhm.” You hum, smile only growing wider.

----

That night you walked home beaming, smile plastered on your face with your ears flickering wildly. It had been so long since you’d last seen him that it was so uplifting to see that sweet, sweet smile again. You haven’t felt this happy since Jake separated you two, and honestly you couldn’t bring yourself to go home and see him.

Despite your strict curfew, you find yourself alone sitting in the wet sand, watching the sun set, bright hues of red and orange lighting up the sky. You bring your knees to your chest and rest your cheek between them, thinking about tomorrow.

What if I can’t do it? You sigh, feelings of self-doubt crashing in like the waves at your feet.

“Y/n.” Jake’s voice booms behind you.

Of-fucking-course you’re going to come find me.

“What?” You mumble into your knees.

Jake’s purses his lips before letting out a small sigh, shoulders relaxing as he seats himself beside you. “Feelin’ ready for tomorrow? Not nervous, are ya?”

“Ha. Yeah. I had the best teacher in Awa’atlu.”

“Babygirl.” His voice softens as he tries to look you directly in the face. The fact that it’s been over a week, and you’re still upset tells him that he’s really hurt you.

“Not your baby anymore.” You mutter under your breath, turning your head to look the other way.

“Yes, you are... ‘nd you always will be. Even when you have your own.” He speaks gently, resting his hand on your upper back.  

You shrug him off, causing his hand to retreat entirely. He reflects for a moment, on how his actions have made you feel. Has he been too harsh on you? Was the ‘tough love’ act too much? The rift that’s he’s driven between the two of you is just too thick and he must remedy it.

“Look. I’m – I’m just tryna look out for you.”

“Excuse me?” You lift your head up and look at him with an expression of disbelief. "Look out for me? Or coddle me? Cut the shit, dad. I know you’re trying to keep me from him.”

"Language!" Jake hisses, “And I am looking out for you, whether you wanna believe it or not.”

“So what? How far are you gonna go to keep me from him? Gonna make us move again? Fresh start, somewhere else?”

Jakes voice is low now, a dangerous growl as he grows frustrated with your venomous words. “Everything I do is to protect you kids. Your safety is everything to me, y/n. I just want what’s best for you.”

"Ralak is what is best for me. He's good to me. Patient with me." You croak, lump forming in your throat. "And - I love him, dad."

Jake quickly stands, letting out a scoff. "No. You don't. You barely know the guy!”

"I do. I know him more than anybody. He's a gentleman–”

“Y/n” He starts, “We’ve only been here for a few months. He’s your teacher. There’s plenty of fish in the sea. Why are you settling for the first one you meet?”

“Dad, just – stop! He’s a good person. And when I tame tsurak tomorrow... I will choose him.” Your voice fades away as you utter the last four words, heated tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Yeah. If you tame it. I didn’t even tame it myself the first try. You really think you can?” Jake spits, growing frustrated with your defiant attitude.

Ouch. You didn’t even have the words to respond to that. Your own father taking a jab at your competency, knowing it’s one of your biggest insecurities. And to instil is own personal doubt into you is on another level of petty.

And just like that, the rift grows wider.

Your bottom lip quivers, revealing the small dimples in your chin. You stare up at him glossy eyed, tears welling up so much you could almost see the way it makes your eyes glisten. His gaze softens, as if he were just hit square in the jaw with words he just uttered to you.

“Y/n, I’m s –”

You shake your head in disbelief, brows gathering so tightly it hurt. You walk past him, shoving him with your shoulder as you make your way towards your marui. You can hear him calling after you, hollering whatever things first popped up in his head that could possibly make it right.

“Babygirl, please! You know I didn’t mean it like that. Just try to see where I’m coming from!”

But you ignore him and keep it going. Slumping into your bed, you lay your head on your pillow and close your swollen, wet eyes in hopes to get some rest for your big day tomorrow. The day that would change it all.

The day of your iknimaya.

----

It wasn’t only your iknimaya today.

Much like when you tamed your ikran, you stand in a line of other younger na’vi, who have been waiting patiently for their chance to prove themselves. Eager and excited to earn their place in the clan and mate with another.

They all speak amongst themselves, whispering harshly and huddling together to hear one another. They’re discussing pointers, reviewing techniques, and sharing tips they’ve learned from the more experienced warriors. It’s a bit annoying, in all honestly. They all seemed to have a completely different motive from you. An intrinsic one.

Whereas your motivation is standing in waist deep in the water, effortlessly holding the thrashing, winged beast in place. His hands grip the harness tightly, whilst Tonowari and another warrior secures the mid and hind section of the skimwing.

You watch as the other young na’vi attempt to tame the tsurak before you. Some pass, some fail, tsurak swimming with such force that it leaves the rider disoriented. Some even begged for another chance, while others accepted their defeat with a tail between their legs.  

It makes you nervous. And the more you stand and stare at the thick skinned creature, the more is registers how big it actually is. It’s enormous – the length of six na’vi. Yet Ralak holds it down firmly, arms growing veiny from the sheer grip he has on it. It writhes beneath him, prompting him to restrain the beast even further.

You’d never seen Ralak ‘in action’ before. To you, he’s this big, soft giant, patiently tolerating your less than composed attitude. A man with simple goals, and simple desires. Not this strong, war machine he has been turned into. But you can’t ignore how seeing him like this makes you feel.

A strong and competent man.

But the more the creature thrashes around in his grip, the more your shot nerves fray. Just as you feel the nerves creep their way up into your chest, tightening it with no mercy, Ralak locks eyes with you. A stoic expression, with eyes that said so much. Ocean blue eyes, telling you ‘I’m right here. You can do it. Do it for me. For my big coc-’.

“You got this, kid. I mean – y/n.” Jake’s sudden voice interrupts your... train of thought.

If you hadn’t just been eye-fucking the man he’s keeping you away from you would’ve probably warmed up to his... attempt to make things right.

You let out a loud scoff and roll your eyes before diving into the water. Your fingers pierce the surface of the water, slender body moving through the water quickly and making the lap in one breath.

Turning your head, you quickly realise why they had you so far up in the mangroves. It was a test. A breath test. But what confirmed your suspicion is the look at your fathers’ face. An expression of surprise – shocked to see you even swim much less hold your breath for the entire lap.

Did he really have that little faith in you? You shake your head in disbelief, landing your stare on the spectators – the olo’eyktans’ family and other superior hunters and warriors. All of which stood high up in the mangroves, observing your every move.

How intimidating.

You exhale slowly, hoping to steady your galloping heart, but your efforts are to no avail. It feels as if its leaping from your chest the more you near the writhing, restless beast. And the closer you get, the louder its low, deep rumbling grows.  

You’re about chest-deep in the water now, bouncing on the tips of toes as you inch closer and get a better look. You scan its entire body, starting at the white caudal fin, up to its furled wings and long snout – which houses at least a hundred jutting-out, needlelike teeth. Overall, its menacing demeanour makes your stomach sink.

Shit. Can I really do this? You think, shaky hand reaching behind you for your kuru as you continue to study the beast’s tough exterior.

“Y/n.” Tonowari saying your name snaps your eyes up to him smiling down at you. “Make the bond.” He gestures over to Ralak, who’s holding tsurak’s kuru in one hand, and the harness in the other.

He can tell from your body language and the glint in your eye that you’re nervous and having doubts. It’s the way you gnaw at your bottom lip, just like you did whenever you were getting frustrated during your lessons.

You settle yourself beside him, feeling his warmth radiate off his body onto yours. It’s been so long since you’ve been this close to each other. You’re not even touching, yet it feels so good. So right. You allow yourself to sway with the current of the water so that your shoulder brushes against his arm, sending your freckles flickering in broad daylight.

His chin remains tucked into his chest, arm extended towards you with the beasts’ kuru in hand. “Remember what I said.” He mutters under his breath, low enough for only you to hear.

You glance up at him briefly, trying your best to recall what he’s said to you about tsuraks. Your brows pinch in ponder as your pink tendrils dance wildly when they near the creature’s kuru. Was it something about the bond? Or was it how to grip the harness?

Ralak leans in, pretending to bring the kuru closer to your short stature. “yours to do whatever you please with.”

Oh. That.

You recall when he pressed your hand against his half-hard cock and told you it was all yours if you tamed tsurak. Just thinking about how warm it felt in your hand ebbs away the fear you’ve harboured in your chest, replacing it with a new feeling of determination.

Trying to withhold the smile creeping up on your face, you watch as your tendrils intertwine with the tsuraks’, kurus bonding together with a quick pull. A shiver runs through the creature as it snarls and growls, and your pupils dilate and constrict, breath hiccupping as you sync together.

You can feel it’s strength – it’s prowess. The way it breathes under and out of water. The way its left wing is injured from the na’vi that kicked it when tumbling off. The frustration brewing in its stomach. The exhaustion he’s feeling.

Instinctually, your hand caresses the length of his slippery snout, razor sharp teeth grazing your darker blue skin. “tam tam, tam tam [calm; there there]” You coo quietly, sliding your hand up his snout to grip the harness tightly. To your surprise, he settles immediately, sensing your empathy towards his state.

A sense of mutual respect.

Taking this as your signal to mount him, you hoist yourself up onto his back, being extra careful not to touch his wing. You find yourself struggling, being so far out at this height was only another obstacle in your way. Without warning the tsurak sinks into the water, lowering itself for you to haul your leg over its back.

“Irayo [thank you].” You whisper through a smile, settling yourself comfortably on the woven saddle.

Finally lifting your head up, you’re met with the stare of two surprised men, and one proud man. Ralak has this smug look on his face, like he knew all along that you would be able to make the bond in this way. And that – that’s just what you needed.

The three men let go of the beast, backing away with their hands in the air, allowing you space to ride. You tighten your grip one last time – something you recall being the most important thing, and think, go.

The tsurak takes off at full speed, caudal fin swishing from side to side, providing thrust to propel you forward. The sheer force of his jerky movements has your grip loosening already, audible swoosh of his tail growing louder the more wobble side to side.

Easy. Easy.

He steadies instantly, providing you with enough time to tighten your grip and position yourself properly on his back. You’re mindful of his injured wing, grounding the heel of your non-dominant foot beside his good wing. With your other leg, you settle your knee into his back, finding balance in your own body.

The shimmying comes to a halt, leaving you gliding effortlessly through the water, swoosh of his tail steady and low. You pull up, prompting his wings to splay out, revealing their vibrant red and orange colours. Soon the whoosh of his flapping wings drowns out the noise of his caudal fin propelling you upwards and out the water.

“There you go.” You think out loud, steadying yourself mid-air.

It’s an exhilarating feeling. The cool wind in your face and the way the sun rays heat up your skin. It almost feels like your ikran. A big smile spreads across your lips as you give his gill a gentle, reassuring tap. That’s when you feel the dull ache in your left shoulder worsen.

“Tam, tam. [there, there]” You repeat, recognizing his pain. That’s your cue to prepare yourself for the hardest part – the dive. This is the part which typically ends with the force of such a plunge knocking the na’vi off it’s back. The true test.

With a quick, deep breath, you tighten your grip around the harness one last time and dive onto your stomach, hugging his lower back with your knees. You tuck your chin to your chest and brace yourself for impact. The tsurak tucks his wings flush to his sides and plunges in, long snout piercing the water’s surface with ease.

The force of the plunge is indescribable. It’s almost like the feeling you get when you plummet down the hallelujah mountains on your ikran. But more intense. The water adds extra resistance, knocking you back to the point of your knuckles almost dislocating.

Despite that, your grip remains strong as you hurtle through the water, tilting to the side to avoid the reef. The slight sting of your lungs act as your cue to make a sharp turn and head back. You ascend slowly as you dart through the water, resurfacing completely before the three men.

You let out the breath you’ve been holding with an audible haa as you bring the beast to a halt. You wipe the water from your face and try to catch your breath, looking up to see Ralak with one of the biggest smiles on his face – the first of its kind. And you couldn’t quite tell if the shock plastered on the other mens’ faces are for you or for him.

You return the smile as you gently pull away your kuru from the tsuraks’ and dismount him. “He is weary. And injured. Left wing.” You pant, meeting eyes with the giant beaming with pride. “Let him rest, Lak.”

“Ah.” He chuckles breathily, using his tail to caress the back of your leg. “I will be sure to do that, my Tsurak Makto.”

Cheeks heating up to a dangerous degree, you avert your gaze elsewhere, only for it to land on the Olo’eyktan himself. He, too, is smiling wide, moving towards you with an extended arm. You link arms, slender fingers wrapping around his strake.

“You are Metkayina now, y/n. Soleia [congrats; you did it]” Tonowari declares.

“Thank you, sir. And your daughter –”

“While I am sure she has taught you well, Ralak is the one to thank here.” He rests a firm hand on Ralak’s shoulder.

You look over into the mangroves and see your father with his arms crossed over his chest, nodding and smiling. He’s impressed, to say the least. But not only with you and the way you absolutely mastered the taming of the skimwing, but also with Ralak – who is clearly to thank for that.

----

With night being only a blink away, things move quickly. Na’vi men and women rush to begin the preparations for the iknimaya celebration on the open, sandy area on the beach. They haul in large, tightly strung instruments, scrupulously carved flutes, drums made from animal skin, and horns made from bone, setting them up on the large, flattened rocks.

The clans’ best singers apply various colours of tsamopin [warpaint] to their skin, accentuating their features, while the elder, wiser na’vi prepare the native dishes for the feast. Fruits, vegetables, grains, and meat are cooked to perfection and spread carefully for everyone to have a taste. Bottles of fermented fruit garnish the spread. Others hurry to ornament the space with harvested bioluminescent flora from inland, and light the bon fire.

Tsireya approaches you with a full, large basket tucked on her hip. She smiles as she places her free hand on your back, guiding you and the small group of four other na’vi who passed their iknimaya to a secluded marui. Propping the basket between two jutting mangrove roots, she retrieves a handful of different coloured beads and shells.

As tsakarem [Tsahik in training], it is Tsireya’s duty to seal the iknimaya by rewarding those who passed with a few artefacts to signify their adulthood. “For your songchord.” She speaks, distributing the beads among the five of you before fetching the special pieces of clothing.

“You have all passed your iknimaya.” She speaks softly, distributing the clothing to the others. “Soleia! [congrats; you met the challenge] You may all receive your inking at the ftxozä [celebration]”

She comes to you last, carefully handing you a woven palm leaf. “I am proud of you, y/n.” She whispers, watching as you quickly open the woven packet, revealing your first Metkayinan article of clothing. Your eyes widen as you hold it in front of them.

Seven warbonnet fern leaves stained in crimson coloured ink, strung tightly together with fishing line. It’s beautiful. The leaves are long and pointed, meticulously placed to provide enough coverage for your chest. You rest it against your chest, raising your brows at Tsireya for her opinion.

She clicks her tongue, hand flying to grip her chin as she ‘thinks’. “Hm... He’s definitely going to rip that off of you.” She teases, fingers covering her mouth to hide her giggle. You laugh, probably a little too loudly given the four pairs of eyes staring at you both.

“The sun is setting, everyone! Get ready, wear your pen [clothing] with pride, look your best, and most of all, have fun!” Tsireya shouts happily, gesturing with her hand for them to hurry.

Everyone rushes to get ready, slipping in their pen and putting on their best face. You observe their hasty, excited movements, when the last rays of sunlight avert your stare to the horizon. You catch sight of the sunset, something you rarely got to see back home. The big, blood orange orb sinks beneath the horizon, turning the water a hue of orange.  

Your gaze follows the ginger ripples of the water up to the beach, where you’re met with the sight of a blazing bonfire, flames growing as tall as some palm trees. A breath-taking sight. The skilled pamtseotu [musicians] work at their instruments, nimble fingers plucking the taut strings, and the wax coated bones beating away at the drums.

You admire the glow of the people as they enjoy themselves. Two elderly women trying to hear each other over the loud da-dum of the drums. A few young adults having their first sips of pxir [beer; liquor]. Parents with their sleeping babies strapped to their backs sharing a dance under the moonlight. Ao’nung and Rotxo eating as much as their cheeks can hold. Ralak – oh.

Ralak talking to your father.

----

Ralak’s POV (starting from iknimaya)

“While I am sure she has taught you well, Ralak is the one to thank here.” He rests a firm hand on Ralak’s shoulder.

Ralak remains silent, yet his mind is loud. He has so much to do – so much on his plate. But all he can think about is you. How you bring light to his small, dim world. How your presence alone uplifts the weight on his shoulders. And oh, how the past few weeks have been tortuous for him.

Tonowari, the man that took him in after the passing of his parents, had him hard at work since you weren’t allowed to see him anymore. Tonowari isn’t oblivious to what’s going on. He can tell the situation for what it is, but out of respect for Jake he made the arrangements for Tsireya to teach you instead.

Ralak has been waiting for the right time to speak with Tonowari about the matter. The matter of asking for your hand. Although he wasn’t necessarily asking Tonowari for permission for your hand, but more so permission for himself. Permission to dedicate his time to his mate, his family – to his dream, mundane life.

He watches you swim back to the mangroves, and with an injured tsurak there’s a bit of time between you and the next contender. Tonowari instructs for the other warrior to tend to the tsurak, and for a moment, it’s just Tonowari and Ralak.   

The two giants exchange glances, standing in silence as one waits for the other to speak. Ralak knows it’s the perfect time to do it. You’ve just passed your iknimaya and they’re alone and far from any company.

“Sir.” Tonowari turns to face Ralak, knowing what’s coming next. Ralak slowly raises his head, tilting it to return the gaze. “I want to mate with her.” He speaks assertively, showing his seriousness through a stern gaze.

Tonowari nods a few times, breaking eye contact as he momentarily drops his head. He knows what this means – what he’s truly asking for. Freedom. Less duties. More time put into building the family he’s always wanted. To rediscover his days as a fisherman. To live his simple life.

Tonowari looks at Ralak, hand swiftly moving to firmly grip his shoulder and give it a squeeze. “You have my blessing, son.” Ralak smiles, using his free hand to clasp Tonowari’s. “But you must speak with Toruk Makto first.” Tonowari booms with laughter, pulling his hand off Ralak’s shoulder.

Although Ralak is almost as much as a giant as his mentor, he found Jake to be intimidating. He has extreme respect for Jake, admiring how family oriented he is. Which is why he wants to do it right. “I will. Tonight.”

--

Ralak hauls in a lengthy, wooden table, plopping it down in the open, sandy area. An elderly woman approaches him, thanking him with a gentle hand to his back and a gummy smile. Her free hand holds a bowl containing a mixture of diced fruits. He quickly takes it from her, placing it carefully in the centre of the table.

“Allow me. You rest.” He says with a thick accent, linking arms with her to walk her back over to the seating area.

“Tak. Always such a kind boy.” She whispers softly, patting his hand before letting go and taking a seat.

Jake and Neytiri are assisting with the seating area, rearranging the order of things. Ralak gestures a respectful greeting to them both, bowing his head before the former Olo’eyktan. Neytiri gives him a warm smile, acknowledging his kind gesture towards the elder.

She has always disagreed with Jakes decision to separate you two, insisting that he is too harsh on you and that you have already passed your iknimaya back home. She had taken a liking to Ralak since the day you rode an ilu after only a week of lessons.

“Sir. May I speak with you?” Ralak asks politely.

Jake lets out a hesitant sigh, looking at his mate who’s shooting him a deathly glare. He purses his lips into a thin line and gives Ralak a firm nod, gesturing with his hand that they go somewhere more private to talk. He follows Jake willingly, walking with him to the shoreline.

They stand in silence for a moment, much like he did with Tonowari earlier. Ralak takes a deep breath, preparing himself for the worst. He turns to look Toruk Makto dead in the eye, mask of indifference fixed tightly to his face.

“I would like to apologize for the way things turned out. It was never my intention.” Ralak speaks, holding eye contact with the great warrior – who is visibly biting his tongue for the sake of not being strangled by his own wife. “Your daughter. She is truly the best thing that has happened to me. Kind. Caring. Understanding. Yes, she has her moments.” Ralak widens his eyes, quirking his brows before smirking a little. “But I love those too.”

“Uh-huh.” Jake gives him a small nod, doing a ‘come on’ motion with his hand, implying he should get to the point.

A little intimidated, Ralak averts his gaze to his feet and speaks quickly and confidently. “I want to provide for her. Protect her. With my life. I will give her anything she desires. Everything she needs. I will give her a good life.” Ralak’s eyes snap up to meet Jake’s. “But only with your permission, sir.”

“You gonna look me in the eye this time and make that promise?” Jake raises his brows, wrinkling his forehead.

Ralak clears his throat, straightening his shoulders to stand at full height, towering over Jake. “I love her. I will take care of her. Give her everything. If you’ll allow it.”

There’s a moment of silence – other than the increasingly loud thump of the drums – where Jake and Ralak stand face to face. Jake process all what Ralak has said. He’s never heard so many words fall from this man’s mouth before. Jake’s shoulders drop as he heaves a sigh, perked ears now relaxing against his skull. Hands flying to his hips, he looks away briefly before looking back at Ralak.

“She’s my babygirl. You know that, right?” Jake growls through gritted teeth.

“Yes, sir.” Ralak is quick to answer.

“I swear, if you let anything – and I mean anything happen to my babygirl...” Jake’s voice his dark and gruff, laced with uncertainty. 

“Understood. And, agreed. If anything happens to her, you have every right.” Ralak assures the former Olo’eyktan, grimacing at the mere thought.

“Right. Then you have my permission, Ralak.” Jake nods, extending his arm to the taller na’vi. Ralaks ears bolt upright, overjoyed to hear the words. They join arms with an audible smack, sealing the deal with a firm shake. “Go on. Go find her.” Jake nudges over to the mangroves with his chin, “Before I change my mind.” Ralak bows his head slightly and parts ways to look for you.

---- End of Ralak’s POV

Shit, I should go. You think, turning on your heels to go find Ralak. By the time you’ve turned around, everyone is gone except for Tsireya.

“Come, let’s get you ready.” Tsireya grins wide, slowly creeping towards you with her handmade palette of colours.

You pull your head back, a downturned smile spreading across your face. “Where are you putting that? What is that?”

“Just a little something for your cheeks, come on.” She smiles even wider, dipping her finger into the creamy concoction.

“Eh. Not my thing.” You pull your head back even more.

“Ralak will like it.” She sings, wiggling her pink stained finger in the air.

You let out a small sigh of defeat and lean forward. “Fine. Only a little, okay?”

“Mhm!” Tsireya squeals, beaming with delight as he smears the creamy mixture on the apples of your cheeks. “There. And a little for your lips, too.” She says, quickly swiping it on your lips before you can refuse.

You grunt in response, popping your lips to distribute it evenly. “Well. How do I look?”

“Sevin [pretty], and you’ll look even better when you put that on.” She stares at the crimson strained top in your hands.

You slip into your top, fixing the leaves into position to cover your nipples, and do a twirl for the chief’s daughter. “Well?” You ask with open hands.

You didn’t think that cheeky grin could grow much wider, but it does. A grin so wide that it’s ear to ear.“Fyole [perfect]. Now let’s go get your mate.”

Maybe her giddiness is just catching, but hearing one of the most beautiful girls in the village call you fyole makes you grin too. She tugs at your arm, urging you to follow her down the webbed pathway towards the sandy area.

As you both make your way down to the beach, the faint whoof of the drums deepen in bass, and the plunk of the stringed instruments grows higher. And soon you can make out the song that’s playing. It’s the same song that Tsireya has been trying to hum to you for the past week. You keep your chin tucked to your chest, gaze locked to your feet as you follow behind Tsireya.

Once you see the silky sand spill through the cracks of your toes, you look up to see that you’re both standing at the edge of the crowd. People are packed tightly together, sweaty bodies pressed firmly against each other as they move to the beat.

The ambiance is electric, you can practically see it jolt through the crowd. Different colours glow around the moving bodies, it reminds you of your dream hunt.

Tsireya grabs a hold of your hand, squeezing it tightly to bring you out of your deep thought. “Remember what I taught you, yes?” You stare at her wide-eyed, knowing what she’s going to tell you next. “Dance with me, vultsyìp [stick].” She sings the last word teasingly, tugging you into the crowd behind her.  

As much as you loved the music, you’re focused on Ralak. You want to find him, be with him. You look around as you both weave through the crowd, bumping into people having a good time, drinking, and dancing. You swear you see a few people laying in the sand on top of one another, bent into positions you’ve never seen before.

Tsireya can sense that you’re a little anxious. Perhaps you feel out of place, or maybe you’re just a little stunned by the way of her – your people dance. She looks back on you and gives you a reassuring smile, squeezing your hand tighter as she burrows you both through the dancing crowd.

Finally coming to a more spacious area, she wraps her arms around your waist and pulls you in close. You slump into her, chin resting on her shoulder. Her lips brush against the shell of your ear. “Let him come to you.”

You pull back, looking around to see if he’s anywhere nearby before leaning back in to speak into her ear. “How will he know where to find me?”

Tsireya laughs, lifting a hand from your waist to tap her flat nose a few times, signing ‘smell’.

You nod slowly, trusting her word, despite you being in a large crowd that reeks of pxir[liquor], and – sex. You take a deep breath, smelling an array of scents all mixed, and overlapping one another. It’s almost overwhelming, leaving you feeling all hazy and dazed.

“Now dance with me!” She shouts over the boom of the music, sliding her hands down your waist to grip your hips. A giggle bubbles up your throat, the aphrodisiac properties of the music now taking affect. It sets a fire in your body, heating you up from the inside out and making your hips move in her grip.

It’s a little frightening, feeling your body move on its own, much like it did during your first heat. You try to fight it a little, feeling a little timid from how the music is affecting you in this way. But you recall Tsireya explaining to you that it’s something to do with ‘the way of Eywa permeating through the music’ – or something.

Tsireya realizes that your movements are bit rigid and broken, plagued with uncertainty. “Let go. Feel the music.” She urges you, guiding your hips in the direction of her motions. You allow yourself to let go, closing your eyes to immerse yourself in the trance of the music, moving freely to the rhythm.

With each beat of the drum comes a quick roll of your waist. And soon you’re dancing on her, vibrations of the instruments rippling through you. It comes naturally, body moving in a sinuous manner against hers. At the same time, it’s such a foreign feeling, as if your pores are dilating and releasing your essence into the air.

Meanwhile, Ralak is searching for you at the edge of the crowd, peeking over the sea of people. His eyes quickly scan the waves of dancing na’vi, looking for his tahni. His deep blue tahni. He had no interest in going into the crowd, much less surrender himself to the hypnotic ways of the music.

But he has no other choice.

He nosedives into the crowd, working his way between people as they increasingly get more and more suggestive with their bodies. One cannot simply walk through this without being affected to some degree – the pink tinge of his cheeks is evidence of it.

A hand instinctively flies to his nose to block out the mixture of scents bombarding him. Pxir. Sex. Desperation. Its almost contagious. Only making him want to be with you even more. Nearly to the point of desperation. He needs you. To be around you. To touch you. To be inside you.

Until it just becomes too much. Too much that a simple hand overing his burning nostrils won’t suffice. He drops his hand in defeat, allowing the mesmeric fumes to engulf him. It’s nauseating, yet his want for you grows stronger, to the point where he could swear to Eywa herself that the scent is slowly morphing into yours.

And yours only.

Ralak closes his eyes, inhaling so deeply that his chest tightens – all so he can savour your sweet, sweet aroma. He succumbs to it, nose following the scent to the source like an ilu being lured with a piece of fish. When he opens his eyes, he sees you. Clear as day.

There’s an aura around you, glowing so bright it’s almost blinding. It’s like the light in the darkness – all over again. Just like the first day he met you. The day you brought meaning to his life after losing so much.

Right there.

In awe, he watches your little body move effortlessly to the rhythm, slender tail swishing excitedly behind you. It’s the way you look – all flushed and flustered, dressed in the clothes of the Metkayina. He swallows thickly at the sight, influence of your pheromones making it that much harder – literally. He’s so hard it hurts, balls tightening and pulling so close to him that he shifts his weight to the next foot.

Yet his eyes dare not move. They bore into you so deep that even you can sense his stare. Your body knows he’s close, speeding up with your lewd movements, luring him in even more. And it works. He can’t help but move a little closer. Just to get a better look at you. At how you’ve learned the dance of his people, moving just like one of them with no difficulty.

And then you feel him.

Pressing against your body from behind, his warmth only heating you up more. You can smell him – no need to turn around to check who it is. You lean back into him, back of your head slumping into his chest. Everything’s so hot – so heavy. He leans down, pressing his soft, warm lips against your throat, using his tongue to taste the sheen on your skin.

You exhale an audible haah, chest heaving harshly as your nipples harden into peaks underneath your new garments. Tsireya lets you go, retreating into the crowd to leave you both alone. His hands quickly replace hers, wrapping tightly around your waist, pulling you in closer to his hot body.

That’s when you feel it, hard and firm, pressing into your lower back. Then your breaths turn raggedy, becoming louder. You can’t help but grind into it, feeling him bend his knees, body receptive to your movements. And soon he’s grinding into you too, bodies falling into synchrony.

“So this is what you have been learning. Hm?” He whispers gruffly into the shell of your ear, following your every move as you lower yourself even more.

“May-be” The word comes out broken from the pace your body is setting for him to keep up with.

“All for me?” He chuckles, greedy hands lowering to your thighs, fingers smoothing over your clammy skin.

“Mmn – mhm.” You purr, thighs squeezing together as you shimmy your hips into him, providing your throbbing clit with a little friction.

His hands swipe underneath your loincloth as they glide back up to your hips, his lips pressing into your neck once more. He peppers hot, wet kisses down to the tips of your shoulders and up to the back of your neck. It sends your freckles flickering under the moonlight, surely gaining more eyes on the two of you.

But neither of you cared. Not in this moment.

“Feel me.” He growls, sinking his fingers into your hips to shove you into his pelvis. “Feel what you do to me.”

You can hear the frustration in his voice, he’s so wound up that you can just tell from the way he’s manhandling your hips. “Oh, fuck.” You gasp, rubbing yourself against his hardened bulge, tail wrapping around his thin waist.

Calloused hands work their way up your stomach, fingers grazing over the dip of your navel before finding purchase under the strings of your top. He hooks his thumbs under the twine, running them along its length. You bow your back against him, pushing back into his crotch.

“My beautiful tahni.” He groans shakily, resisting the urge to pin you down and take what’s his, right here, right now. “I have missed you.”

“Ma’ Lak.” You moan softly, feeling so out of it – so hazy and light-headed.

“Do me the honour of being my mate.” He tries to speak politely, keeping his voice steady and calm, rough grinding smoothing into gentle swaying.

“Say that again for me.” You pant through a smile, dipping your head forward to give him better access to your neck.

A low growl rumbles in his chest as pointed canines graze over the nape of your neck, eager to sink into your supple skin. You spin around, drawing a little blood when they scrape against your skin. He shoves a knee between your legs, spreading them apart to press his pelvis firmly into yours. “Mate with me, woman.”

“Oh, yeah? Right here?” You tease, tugging at his queue to bring it over his shoulder.

“You’re trouble. You know that?” He chuckles breathily, leaning down to nuzzle into your neck, breathing in your hypnotic scent.

“I’ve been told.” You let out a soft giggle, twirling the end of his kuru around your finger.

Eywa, did that feel good.

“Come.” He says quickly - impatiently, hoisting you up onto him, wrapping your legs around his waist. He stumbles over to the shore, still feeling the effects of the melodic music coursing in his bloodstream. Quickly calling for his tsurak with a tik-tak, he watches as the large beast glides through the water towards him.

In an instant, Ralak bonds and mounts the beast with you stuck to him, holding you close with one hand and gripping the harness tightly with the other. You bury your face into his chest, basking in his natural scent as you try to calm down. But you’re so on edge and need some sort of release soon.

“Need y-you. S-so bad.” You moan needily, breath hitching as you grind the soft flesh between your legs against the tautness of his tewng [loincloth].

Ralak’s brows pinch tightly together, huffing a breath of hot air through his nostrils. His restraint is dwindling by the millisecond. He needs you. Craves you. Hungers for you. And he can no longer withhold himself, not when you’re still grinding into him, even though the music has faded out.

“I know. Almost there. A little longer.” He hums breathlessly, beads of sweat rolling down his temples.

Ralak’s so flustered and hot that he can barely maintain control over his winged beast, making the ride to the cove of ancestors rough and bumpy. The burning need to possess you – dominate you – only grows stronger with each huff of hot air you breathe onto his bare chest.

He wants so badly to just drill himself inside you, right on the back of this tsurak. Leaving his cock buried deep in your tight, wet heat for the remainder of the ride. So that when you do arrive, he can lay you down on the nearest rock and have his way with you.

But he won’t. Not for your first time. Not before you mate.

Your breath rasps in your throat, nimble fingers working away at the knot above his tail. It’s as if you could hear his thoughts already, telling you to take him right here, right now. Or perhaps it’s the way his painfully hard cock almost bores through the thin cloth, right into your sopping cunt as his hips buck into you. Both of you reek with desperation, a scent so pungent any passer-by would gag. Yet he still finds the self-control to reach behind him to rest a gentle hand on your wriggling fingers.

“Wait.” A single word parts his flushed lips, gruff and strained. It’s all he can get out in his state of mind. He wants nothing more than to just do this the right way. The way he’s been planning for years on end. You whine a little when he pulls your hand away, plunking it back onto your slippery thigh.

“Please.” You mewl, fingers now burrowing between your pelvises to slip under the band of his loincloth, pulling it down just enough to unsheathe his thick cock. It’s slaps against his flexed abdomen, tip of his glossy, reddened head poking right below his crossed ribs. It’s all swollen and throbbing, sticky from how much precum he’s leaking all over himself.

Denying him the chance to refuse, you shove your clothed cunt against his slickened length, humping into him with ease. He tries to bite back a sudden groan, tightening his jaw so much he may fracture it. His breaths turn raggedy as he rests his chin on the crown of your head.

Eyes becoming so lidded, he doesn’t even realise that you’re finally here. The cove of the ancestors. The most sacred places in the village of Awa’atlu, where na’vi go to mate. You’re blissfully unaware of your surroundings, trying to stick your hand in your crotch to shift your loincloth to the side.

“I said. Wait.” A gruff, stern voice sends a shiver down your spine.

And fuck – it only makes you hornier, sending your hips in a thrusting frenzy, doing their best to line his cockhead up with your dripping entrance. You can’t quite catch it as it keeps bucking and slipping over your puffy clit. You grunt a frustrated ‘mmph’, irritated that he isn’t sliding in like you thought.

Ralak is struggling to maintain his composure. Half of him wants to chuckle at your futile attempts to fuck him, and the other half wanting to just ram his cock inside you for being so stubborn. He takes a deep breath in, holding it to reground himself. He exhales a sigh of relief once he bumps into the rocky cove of his people’s most sacred place.

“Eywa – tahni.” A tortured groan evades his lips when he forces himself to shift his pelvis away from you as you persist with your efforts to hurt yourself. He inhales deeply, slowing his galloping heart. “Be a good girl for me, hm? We are here now.” He croons at you, wrapping your hands around his neck and supporting your back as he dismounts his tsurak.   

The bioluminescence of the water glows behind you as Ralak walks you both towards a nearby sea cave. Directly below you is the spirit tree – its fronds and filters luminating the area radiantly. You try to squirm out his grip, feet dangling above the cave floor from the way he refuses to let you go.

“Not here. Too rough.” He grunts as he hoists you back up and walks further into the large, open sea cave. Its floor is completely flat, with all sorts of flora growing between the cracks of the rock. The deeper you venture in, the greener it becomes. Until eventually, all that covers the floor is a thick bed of green, silky moss.

Little creatures buzz around, luminating the darkness of the cave, exposing the markings on the wall from previous mating sessions. Etched swirls, zigzags, and other patterns to signify a new union. There’s no doubt that this little ‘hidden’ spot is a popular place for na’vi to mate before Eywa.

You calm down a bit, influence of the music wearing off now that you’re both so far away from the celebration. At this point you just feel a bit buzzed, melting into Ralak’s grasp as your tense muscles relax. But your droopy eyes snap open when you feel him unwrapping your legs from his waist.

“Here.” Ralak husks, voice deep and thick with arousal.

He lets you down gently, snaking his arms around your waist to pull you in for a kiss. His lips crash into yours, so heated and frantic that there’ll for sure be bruises there tomorrow. His eager hands explore your body, releasing all the pent-up feelings he’s been holding back for the past few months.

Hearts thumping wildly in your chests, you pull away and share the same breath, panting open mouthed before your lips meet again. His hands find themselves cupped around your reddened cheeks, impatiently pulling you in closer until your bodies are flush against one another.

Webbed hands work their way down the column of your throat, calloused thumbs gently pressing into your windpipe. You let out a choked gasp, mouth hanging open as his hands continue their way down to your chest, fingers parting the blood-red leaves to expose your stiffened nipples.

Rolling the tiny, sensitive peaks between his thumb and index fingers, he quickly moves his kisses down your jaw and up to the lobe of your ear, biting it as gently as he can. You stand there open-mouthed, breath catching in your throat momentarily.

You exhale as you rub your thighs together, smearing your sticky arousal all over them. It spreads your scent into the air, causing Ralak to pull away from your ear and takes a deep breath in. He releases it with a lengthy ‘ahh’, face growing hot from the way you smell. You can see him clench and unclench his jaw as the lump in his throat moves from how hard he’s swallowing.

Cerulean eyes pierce into yours, a moment of stillness passes by where his face morphs into the same face he makes when he’s trying not to succumb to that animalistic urge to ravish you on the spot. But it’s been too long. No amount of clenching and gritting could help him.

Not tonight.

He grabs you by the jaw, pulling you up on the tips of your toes to kiss you – hard. His lips crush yours frenetically, letting go all his worries and apprehensions. Truly indulging himself in the moment. In you. He fills his lungs with your arousal – your aphrodisiac. Getting high on you and allowing his body to speak for him.

Slipping his tongue into your mouth, he backs you up against the wall, hand flying to the back of your head to cushion the impact. Your tongues roll over each other, taking in the feeling of every tastebud. Both his hands slip down to yours, lengthy fingers enfolding your wrists as he brings them above your head, pinning them to the wall.

He quickly binds your wrists together, securing them tightly with one hand whilst he shoves his free hand between your slickened thighs. A small, shaky gasp breaks the kiss, thick fingers tugging down your soddened garments. You help him by shimmying your hips, allowing the flimsy material to drop to your ankles.

Now you’re just irresistible.

His fingers graze past your plump, smooth folds, before finding their way in between them. “Ralak.” His name slips out, all breathy and small. You say it so nicely, so sweet and innocent, and his ears can’t help but flicker at the double syllabled word. Eywa, he loves it so much that he makes it his mission to have you scream it by the end of the night.

But not yet.

He brings his digits to his nose, inhaling as deep as his lungs can go, closing his eyes to relish in the sweet, sweet scent of your arousal. And when his eyes open, you swear you see them shift in colour, darkening to a cerulean blue. There filled with greed, gazing longingly at you as if you were something to devour.

And that’s when he takes his fingers into his mouth, having his taste of you. Tongue weaving through the cracks of his digits, he licks them clean, using his thumb to wipe the corners of his mouth before popping that in too. There was something about the way he did that, sucking on his fingers as if you were the best thing, he’s ever tasted in his twenty-four years of living.

It makes you want to taste him too. Back bowing against the jagged wall, you try to wriggle free from his grasp, prompting him to loosen his fingers. In an instant you sink to your knees, staticky hands latching onto his thighs as you press your face against his half-covered bulge. His hand flattens against the wall, supporting his weight as he peers down at you wide-eyed.

You walk your fingers up his thighs, tucking them under the band of this loincloth to yank it down. Out springs his twitching cock, rock hard and throbbing from how swollen he’s gotten from sharing a few kisses. Your eyes cross as you look at it for the first time up close.

It’s... thick. So thick you can’t close your hand around it, leaving a spacious gap between your fingers and thumb. It only gets fatter towards the middle, then tapers off into his mushroomy head, curved and ribbed. His ridges are pointed, yet soft, spanning around and down the underside of his cockhead.

It curves upward, jumping to the rate of his heartbeat. A single bead of precum oozes from his slit, dripping off his cockhead in a thin string. Your tongue darts out, flattened with the tip of it touching your chin, eyes locked on his as you wait patiently for your fill. And when it finally drops onto your tongue, your tastebuds dance from the slightly sweet taste.

His brows jump at the sight, eyelids fluttering a little too quickly to be considered calm and collected. You can’t fight the smug look creeping on your face when you lock your jaw and swallow it with glee. Oh, to make a big, grown man like him crumble.

Naturally, you want to see how far you can push him. You wrap your dainty fingers around his cock, hold it taut to expose his throbbing head. Unsure of what you’re doing, you give him little kitten licks, playing with the little ridges underneath the tip of his cock.

His head slumps forward, thick strands of loose hair swaying side to side as his core flexes and unflexes. He’s biting his bottom lip, struggling to hold back that low grumble deep in his chest, hand balling into a fist against the wall.

And when you finally take him into your mouth, engulfing him in wet heat, his hips thrust. Hard. He didn’t mean for it, you just feel so fucking good around his cock, swollen lips stretching to their limit just for him to fit. Your eyes water, tip of his cock prodding into the back of your throat, corners of your mouth burning from the sheer size of him.

The way you’re looking up at him all glossy eyed and innocent, trying to absolute hardest not to gag on not even half of his cock sends him over the edge. He tightens his fist, knuckles scraping against the rocky wall, surely becoming bloody as he fights the urge to thrust into you one more time.

That’s when you hear the rumble in his chest, the steady, low growl traveling up his throat. Perhaps it was meant to scare you, or maybe it’s the face he’s making – narrowed, beady eyes and thinly pursed lips. Make you sit in the dip of your feet and be the good girl he wants you to be. But it only makes you wetter, thick strings of your own slick oozing onto the mossy floor.

You take him deeper into your mouth, mushroomy tip making its way down the tightness of your throat. The hot tears stream down your cheeks, washing away the rouge to reveal an even pinker tinge of your skin. The saliva pooling in your cheeks spills out the corners of your mouth, dribbling down your chin with nowhere to go.

Instinctively, you swallow.

An innocent reflex, as innocent as the glazed eyes that peer up at him. He lets out a sudden, sonorous groan, brows pinching so tightly together it creases his forehead. It’s so sensitive, so tender, that his hips snap back, cock pulling out your mouth with a loud pop. His bloodied hand flies down to your pinch your chin, pushing you away from him all together.

“’m sorry.” You apologize through a hoarse voice, thinking you’ve hurt him.

He shakes his head, thumb swiping the drool on your swollen bottom lip. “Don’t.” He exhales, chest rising and falling from how hard he’s breathing. You watch this gentle giant crumble to his knees before you, chin tucked to his chest to hide his face. He swallows harshly, clearing his throat as he slowly raises his head and looks up at you through hooded eyes.

“Tsaheylu.” He says breathlessly, heated ears laying flat against his head. He catches his breath as he shuffles closer to you, hand reaching for his kuru. All that’s running through his mind is that he must do this right. And with whatever remaining restraint ebbing away, he must do it now. “Tsaheylu, tahni.” He repeats quickly.

Ralak holds his kuru upwards, exposing his pink tendrils as they dance wildly before your eyes. There’s a moment of silence, where you both take in the lilac hue of his kuru. You nod franticly as a hasty hand reaches behind you, quickly tugging your queue in front of you. You hold yours next to his, revealing your wiggling tendrils.

Your eyes widen when you realize that they sense one another – an invisible force pulling them together. You glance up at him, wondering if he’s feeling the tug too. He’s watching intently, ears twitching and eyes tinted purple from the hues of your kurus coming closer together all on their own.

Looking back down, you witness your tendrils excitedly intertwine with one another, kurus meeting with a quick, harsh tug. His eyes slam shut, ears practically disappearing as they embrace the curve of his skull. He exhales loudly, head dipping forward as his brows gather tightly.

Your breath catches in your throat, body waiting for him to take a breath. When he finally does, you gasp for air, filling your lungs in synchrony with him. His eyes pop open, pupils so blown that only a thin ring of blue remains. Your tail swishes wildly behind you before curling around your waist to tickle his thigh.

A faint ring buzzes in your ears, fading out into a vague, echo of his voice. You can hear his thoughts, feel the way your tail brushes against his skin makes him hot and bothered. You can feel his tightened chest, thick with emotion and overwhelm. And if you close your eyes and focus enough, you can feel his deep-rooted trauma – his past.

But you can also feel his present. His future. The way he desires you to be the one to bear his children. To make his marui into a home. His immense adoration for you and only you. and the more you tune into your mate, the more you feel his immense restraint and composure, the way he’s forcing himself to be gentle.

It’s all too much at once, yet not enough all together.

“I love you.” You blurt out in unison, urge so strong it’s exigent.

The tightness in your chest grows ten-fold, spreading to your core. Eager hands caress one another’s cheeks, pulling each other in for another heavy session of kissing. You break the kiss with a shove to his chest – your futile attempt to push him onto his back. He’s unbudging, strong and solid, even in such a carnal state.

“Lie down, Lak.” You pant, still out of breath from such an intimate experience.  

Ralak nods, slowly leaning back to prop himself up on his elbows. Loose, curly strands of hair sticks to his temples, inebriated gaze boring into yours. You climb between his legs, settling yourself comfortably in the dips of your feet.

His neglected cock twitches madly, pre-cum practically flowing down his length and onto his swollen, firm balls. You swallow thickly at such an enticing sight. You want to taste him. To return the pleasure he’s always ensuring for you. Now that you’re here, between this gentle giant’s legs, you realise that you’ve never even stroked him before.

Shaky, inexperienced hands wrap around his girth, experimentally gliding up and down its length a few times. You can feel every vein, every ridge pressing into the palm of your hands. He’s so rock hard that it looks painful. You can tell in the way he grimaces, peering down at you as you pump him without rhythm.

Holding his cock out the way, you lean in do something you’ve been thinking about since the day of your first lesson. Lick his tattoo. It’s raised and warm, even a little veiny too. You trace each stripe with the tip of your tongue, trailing it down to the base of his cock. Nuzzling your face into the space between his thigh and balls, you fill your lungs with his musky aphrodisiac.

“Eywa. You smell... so fucking good.” You exhale, licking his cock from base to tip. He shudders before you, lying down flat on his back and covering his face with his hands. You can tell you’re doing a good job, the little groans evading his mouth confirming that for you.

Taking him into your mouth, you suck on his mushroomy head, swallowing all the slick that pools in your cheeks. Its mostly sweet, with a little bit of a salty aftertaste. You mindlessly play with the ridges under his tip, liking the way they feel against your tastebuds. He seems to like it too, hips jolting forward with each swipe of your tongue.

“Muntxate [wife]” He growls the word, hand flying from his face to grab a fist full of your hair.

Yes, my love? You think, knowing he’s hearing your every thought and feeling your every emotion.

“Keep doing that and I’ll cum.” He warns you, tone of voice gruff and serious.

Good. Cum for me.

“Ssst–ah.” He lets out a shaky breath, hand beginning to pull your head off him. You quickly clutch his wrist, picking up the speed of your tongue whilst bobbing your head on his cock. “Tahni. Tahni. Tahni.” He groans, each word becoming more and more guttural as they slip off his tongue.

Let me taste you, Muntxatan [husband].

“Shit.” He whispers, caving in on himself as his other hand flies to your head, stopping you from bobbing your head all together. With a quick, single swipe of your tongue, his head pulsates feverishly, spurting ropes of warm, thick cum in your mouth. It pools in your cheeks, stuffing them until they burn from how full they are.

You swear you can hear the da-thump of his throbbing cock, balls pulling closely to his core. You hum triumphantly, proud of yourself for making him cum. You pull off with a subtle pop and a loud gulp, swallowing his huge load with greed. Wide eyes stare down at you, processing what you just did.

Seconds of silence fill the air, two freshly mated na’vi staring into each other’s eyes.  

Within seconds he’s pinning you down on your back, assaulting your throat with rough kisses. His core ruts against yours, sweaty, inexperienced bodies bumping into each other. Everything moves so quickly that you can barely process how he’s got you pinned down on your back underneath him, trailing wet, feverish kisses down your chest. You go to slip out of your top, only for a large hand to stop you.

“Keep it on.” He grunts into your skin, tip of his tongue leaving a trail of saliva down the centre of your stomach. Eyes flicking up to yours, his predatory, lustful gaze bores into you, soft lips pressing into your abdomen. They flicker from side to side as they admire your luminous beauty, flushed lips sucking bruised-like marks into your dark skin.

Little broken mewls part your lips, hips lifting slightly as he peppers gentle kisses below your navel. He maintains eye contact with you as he works his way down to your hipbones, leaving open-mouthed kisses against your hips, he works his way down to your soft thighs, tip of his tongue swiping against your skin – salty from the sea. He lingers there for a while, breathing deeply to savour the sweet scent of your heat that’s so, so close to him.

He lingers there, waiting patiently.

Waiting for your permission as he begs you with his eyes to let him have a proper taste of you. To have his turn. One side of your mouth pulling coy smirk, you weave your fingers through his hair to push his nose between your folds. He wrenches your thighs open, pinning your legs to the mossy ground as he begins to devour you.

Tongue parting your pussy lips, he greedily laps up the sweet nectar dripping from your slit. He grunts into your cunt, sucking on your clit, all swollen and puffy from being so neglected. His hips buck into the mossy bedding beneath him, chasing the feeling that’s transferring to him through the bond.

You yelp out when you feel his finger stretch you out, sinking inside you at a torturously slow pace. He doesn’t want to be too rough with you as it’s been a while since he’s touched you in this way. But you reassure him with a tug at his wrist, shoving his finger knuckle deep inside you.

But it’s just not enough.

“M-more, Ralak. Please!” You cry out, extreme pressure in your chest coming to a head.

Feeling the taut tension, Ralak quickly obliges, sinking another digit inside of you as he assaults the little bud of nerves with the flat of his tongue. Your toes curl at the same time he curls his fingers inside you, prodding them deep into that gummy part of your heat. The pressure feels like electricity, surging through your core and to the tips of your extremities.

He loves how you’re squirming around, hips sputtering to chase your orgasm all on your own. He’s so proud of you, working for your own release like the good girl you are. Praising you with a quick pat on your thigh, he quickens the pace of his fingers, working out a squelch with each thrust.

You begin chanting his name over and over, voice waning with each syllable, until its nothing a tiny, pathetic whimper. Your head spins and your heart skips as you clench tightly around his digits. Your legs tremble, working their way towards one another to close around his face.

“Gonna – oh f-fuck.” You let loose a sudden whine, shoving him into your pussy when you feel the final shockwave ripple through your being, leaving you a shaking mess at the mercy of his two fingers and tongue. Following your every jolt, he hums a victorious groan from the feeling of your pussy walls fluttering helplessly around his fingers. He pulls away with a ‘pwah’, using this opportunity of pure, unadulterated pleasure to stretch you out even more.

“Good girl. And breathe for me.” Ralak coos, sliding his third and final finger inside you. The stretch stings, causing you to wince for just a moment. He quickly curls his fingers, causing another wave of white-hot pleasure to ripple through you, masking that string just right.

Ralak gently moves his fingers inside you, just enough to get you used to the such a big stretch. The sharp sting fades away, leaving nothing but small shocks of electricity surging through your swollen pussy. Slumping your head back into the pillowy moss, you focus on steadying your breathing. Your vision is blurry, and things are becoming hazy, but you don’t want this moment to end.

“Lak... Want more. Please.” You moan weakly, eyes crossing before they roll to the back of your head. You’re already all fucked out from his fingers alone yet you’re begging him for more. And he can see it, too. The way you’re just so spent, body trembling beneath him as he continues to stimulate your rubbed out sweet spot.

“I am not like you, tahni. I only have three.” He chuckles softly, curling them inside you as a reminder.

“Ngh! Y-you know what I mean. I want you...” Your voice falters, hand reaching down to grab his erection, a little surprised that he’s still this hard. “I want this. Please.”

His features soften, apprehension filling his lower stomach just from the jaded look you’re throwing his way. “Are you sure? We can do it another time.” He insists, feeling how tight you still are, despite taking three of his fingers.

“No, please no.” You pant as you shake your head lethargically, shimmying your hips closer to his. “Need-you-to-fuck-me!” You cry out, stringing the desperate words together so quickly it almost sounds like one.

“Tahni.” He utters just over a whisper, staring down at you with eyes of concern. Not only can he see the exhaustion on your face, but he can feel it too. It travels in waves through the bond, right into him. And after such a long day, iknimaya and all, it’s expected. “It will be too much for you right now.”

“You said, ‘anything I please with’. Right?” A tremulous, soft voice reminds him of his deal, knowing he’s a man of his word, albeit few. He chews on his bottom lip, a little impressed with you. He heaves a heavy sigh of defeat, positioning himself between your clammy thighs as he hoists your legs over his.

“Tell me if it hurts. Okay?” He leans over you, using a thumb at the base of his cock to line it up with your entrance.

You nod lazily before tucking your chin to your chest to witness you become one. The crown of his cock prods at your tight opening, looking massive in comparison. For a second you even question yourself how that will fit inside you. It’s way bigger than his three fingers combined, not to mention, much, much lengthier.

It bucks against your innocence, slipping and gliding over your sticky clit. You both grunt in unison, tension snapping just to rebuild all over again. His hips snap back, all four fingers now gripping the base of his cock.

An unexpected wave of anxiety crashes through you, making you cling onto your mate. You bury your hot face into his shoulder, completely abandoning the plan to witness it strip you of your innocence. He can feel your hesitation through the bond, holding his position in case you change your mind.

“Do it, ma’ lak. Put it inside me.” You mumble quietly into the dip of his collarbone, inching your hips closer to his.

He pushes into you slowly, breaking past the resistance of your tightness, mushroomy tip liding in with an audible pop. You bite down onto his shoulder, hard enough to sink the full length of your canines into his cyan coloured skin, staining it red with his blood. It muffles your pained, little cry, tear drops crashing onto the swell of your cheeks.

Fuck, it hurts.

It hurts so much that it makes your body shake and shiver underneath him as it tries so desperately to adjust to his size. It burns and stings and oh – it’s just too much. It feels as if something were lodged between your joints, snapping you open with such force.

His movement comes to a standstill, as if he were frozen in time. He grimaces, unsure if its from the way you’re pinching him or if its from how deep your little canines are sunk into him. Or maybe it’s your pain transferring to him, but he feels it too.

“You okay? Feeling pain?” Ralak’s voice is tender, a gentle hand moving to release your bite.

You unlatch from his shoulder, leaving open puncture wounds for blood to trickle down his chest. The pain fades at a torturously slow rate, but any little movement causes a new wave of fire to shoot down your legs. Surely, just like with his fingers, if you stay here for a bit, it’ll fade completely.

“No. Haah. Just give a m-minute.” You pant out a lie, breath hitching at the last word.  

“Y/n. I can feel your pain.” He utters breathily, pulling out as gently as he can.

“Don’t. Please, I want this.” Your voice is breathy, yet strained, legs quickly locking around his hips to push him in a little deeper. You let out a sudden, high-pitched whimper, burning sensation worsening. Your legs begin to shake uncontrollably around him, sending little vibrations up his spine.

“You’re shaking. Another time.” Ralak says sternly, unhooking your legs from around his hips.

“No, please.” A pathetic little plea falls from your lips.

He shakes his head, grinding his teeth together to deal with the guild bubbling in his chest. “Your body isn’t ready.” He mutters, pulling out tenderly. The more he moves, the more the scent of blood fills the air. He can feel it trickling down his back, but it’s the least of his concerns right now.   

“I-I am ready. Please Lak, just give me a moment to –”

Ralak looks down as he pulls out, head snapping back up to reveal the panic etched into his features. “You – oh Eywa. You are bleeding, tahni.”

“It’s okay. I’m okay.” You coo with quivering lungs, cupping his cheek to make him look in your eyes. “Really. Look at me, Ralak.” You give him a wobbly smile, only for him to pull away from your grip.

“I am hurting you. Look.” Two fingers pinch your chin, pulling it down to avert your gaze. A thin layer of blood coats your inner thighs, some smearing on his too. Your eyes snap back up to his, which are glazed over with panic and guilt. He pulls out of you fully, sitting in the dip of his feet to have a proper look between your legs. “I am so sorry tahni... I-I thought I stretched you enough.”

“Lak...” You whisper shyly, trembling legs slowly closing to hide yourself from his eyes.

“We must go.” He declares, carefully scooping you up into his arms, holding you close to his chest as he makes his way out of the cave. Calling for his tsurak, he glances down at your face to see it screwed with discomfort. The guilt weighs heavy in his heart, driving him to act quickly.

So quickly that you don’t even realise that you’re already on the back of his tsurak, soaring at full speed through the water. You were truly fine, just a little sore and uncomfortable, but certainly nothing that required this level of speed. The ride back is uncomfortably quiet, Ralak trying his hardest to regulate his emotions. You can see the restrained look on his face, tightened brows, and thin lips.

“I’m alright, my love. You don’t have to go so quickly.” You try to reassure him with a small voice. He huffs a sigh in response, clenching and unclenching his jaw, biting back his feelings to focus on remedying the situation. “’ts not your fault.”

Eyes slamming shut, he shakes his head slightly, as if he were saying you were wrong. He holds you closer, opening his eyes to glance down at your blood-stained thighs. Eyelids fluttering, he looks back out into the distance, watching his marui pod appear larger and larger as he approaches it.

Within seconds he’s dismounted his skimwing, and takes large, quick strides to the cave. Your legs dangle over his forearm, other arm supporting your back as he carries you bridal style into the water. A shaky hand reaches for his kuru, holding it in the air to expose his pink, tendrils.

“Tsaheylu, Lak.” You groan needily, wrapping your tail around his thigh.

“Soon, tahni. Let me clean you first.” He hums tenderly, glancing down at your body one last time before slowly submerging you in the water.

The lake is always warmer in the nights, glowing around you from its bioluminescent properties. Supporting your back with one hand, he carefully parts your legs and cleans you gently. Your eyes remain locked onto his face, his clenching jaw, his flattened ears – the way the column of his throat protrudes when he swallows.

The guilt is evident on his face, and it worsens the more he looks at what he’s done to you. And when he moves down to the flesh between your legs, you can’t help but jolt, legs closing around his hands as you wince a little. His head whips towards you, worried eyes boring into yours. You give him a quick smile, nodding that he can continue.

Hand parting your legs once more, he ensures to be extra gentle and tender, even leaning in to see if he’s doing it right. After he’s finished, he bathes the rest of your body, rinsing the sweat and grime out of your hair after such a long night.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to –” You mutter, trying to stand so you can have your turn at bathing him.  

“No need.” He says quickly, scooping you back into his arms with ease, making his way up to his marui. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel fine, Lak. Honestly. You could’ve kept going, I just needed a moment.” You blubber out, trying to wriggle from his clutch.

He scoffs, shaking his head as he ducks under the flap to his marui. “You are like a baby.” He walks over to his bed and lays you down carefully, treating you as if you were really wounded. The leaves of your top stick to your breasts, wet and saturated from such a long bath.

“And you were about to fuck –” You mutter under your breath, to be cut off by Ralak’s glare. You let out a small sigh, a little frustrated from how the night played out. He walks towards a shelf on the opposite side of his marui, giving you the opportunity to sit up, and scoot over to the edge of the cot to get up.

His ears perk up from the shuffling sounds, but his back remains turned to you as he mutters the word. “Sit.”

Defeated, you plop back down onto the soft bedding, thumbs twiddling with one another as you wait for him to come back. Meanwhile he extends his arm to the top shelf, back muscles flexing as he retrieves two wooden drinking bowls and a bottle of liquid.

It’s mauve, and iridescent, swirling around as it sloshes from side to side. He pops it open with his back teeth, spitting the cork into a woven basket on the floor. He plans to cut it into two later, saving a piece each for your songchords.

Sitting next to you on the end of his cot, he hands you the wooden cup, nudging it closer to you with raised brows for you to take it from him. Reluctantly, you take it, a little confused as to what he’s giving you to drink. He pours the thick liquid into the cup, stopping after a few glugs. Then he pours himself one, too, waiting until the liquid touches the lip of his cup.

“Drink.” He orders, bringing his cup to his mouth as he waits for you to do the same.

Bringing it to your lips, your face screws with disgust, head turning away to get the smell out your face. You lower the cup into your lap, looking at him with an expression of perplexment.

How could he drink such a foul-smelling thing?

“Erm, no thanks... I’ll pass.” You barely get out, afraid to take a breath in.

His ears flatten in frustration, lip twitching ever so slightly. He knows this will help with the pain, so why are you being so stubborn? He doesn’t utter a single word, beady eyes piercing into yours.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll drink it... Eywa.” You say the great mother’s name like a curse, bringing the cup to your lip.

You take a sip, face contorts with revulsion, eyes watering as the liquid burns on the way down your throat. Your tongue darts out in repulsion as your eyes flicker up to him, brows raising inquisitively to ask if you drank enough.

His lips purse, and he shakes his head slightly. “All.”

You heave a sigh, rolling your eyes a little before bringing the cup back up to your lips once more. You feel a single finger rest under your hand, nudging it upwards to tilt the cup all the way back, encouraging you to take a swig. You knock it back, gulping down the viscous liquid and stick your tongue out for proof.

He nods in approval, slight smirk curling the side of his lips. He knocks his back in one go, letting out ‘ahh’ after the liquid travels down his throat. Not even a wince. He seems to enjoy the burn.

For you, the after taste is even worse, making your nose scrunch and the tears overflow from your eyes. He’s quick to wipe them away with his thumb, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear before retracting his hand entirely.

“What did I just drink?” You croak, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Fermented fruit. Pxir...” He looks at you, “Liquor.” Ralak takes the cup from you and refills it, as well as his.

Plunking it back into your hand, you look at him through pinched brows. “What does it do?”

He brings his to his wet lips, exhaling a sigh of guilt. “Pain. It will help with the pain.” He sighs, throwing his head back and swallowing the pxir in one, loud gulp.

Your features soften when you realize how he knows such a thing. “Is this what you had when you did your own tattoo?”

“Yes. Not the same. But the same effect.” He chuckles a little, impressed by your ability to put things together so quickly.

“Ah. I see.” You say, looking at the liquid as it swirls around in your cup. “So if I drink enough of this, you’d do my tattoo for me?”

“Sure.” He utters, fighting the little smile creeping on his face as he watches you chug the pxir. “But tomorrow. I have already caused you a great deal of pain today.”

Another sigh makes its way out your nose. You give up entirely, handing him the empty cup and laying down in the bed. Your bed. In your marui pod. Wondering, heavy eyes begin exploring the pod all on their own. It feels like the stilts holding the roof up are spinning, making you feel a bit woozy.

“Ralak. I feel weird.” You hiccup, heavy lidded eyes threatening to close for good. “All... bubbly.”

“Ah. My tahni.” He hums softly, sliding into bed next to you. “It will do that to you. Get some rest, okay?” He rakes his fingers through your hair, using his fingertips to massage your scalp.

“Lak. I want – I want to try again, doesn’t hurt anymore.” You blabber incoherently, trying to open your legs for him. Reminded of the pain that he brought you, Ralak shakes his head, closing your legs gently and covering you with the sheet. Snuggling into his warm chest, your eyes fall shut for the night.

“Another day.” Ralak whispers, planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

Unable to sleep, he spends the rest of the night swigging straight from the bottle, bathing, and checking up on you. You’d wake every so often to him parting your legs, checking to see if you were alright.

He thought nothing of it, just one of his duties as your mate to care for you. But you’d be quick to shove away his hand, mumbling to him not to look despite the coy smile on your face, all from knowing he cares that much.

When he finished the bottle, he was woozy enough to crawl back into bed with you and snuggle behind you. His eyes finally closing when the first rays of sunshine beam through the marui pod, the same rays that wake you up.

--

[multifandom--mess]

Hannigram Fic Recs!

These are just a select few of my personal favorites. I'm sorry if these are too long but I mostly only read long fics

Shark Tank by xzombiexkittenx (71k) (Explicit) - Will and Hannibal meet in prison. Hannibal is still the Ripper, Will is still a profiler who had encephalitis. Only now they're cell mates (SO GOOD and i love love the ending of this one)

Five Times Hannibal Visits Will and One Time He's Already Home (or: Coffee Cake) by bones_2_be (82k) (Explicit) - When Will tells Hannibal to leave at the end of Digestivo, he goes. And then, a few years later, he shows back up. They have long conversations, drink a lot of wine, at the end of it all they find something that works.

In Sickness and in Health by BonesAndScales (76k)(Mature) - Everyone knows that Will and Hannibal are married. Not everyone knows that they are married to each other. (SO CUTE)

Letters to You by Wr4tttttthh (17k)(Explicit) - Will and Hannibal want to learn to love. It isn't easy, it never was. (Post-Fall where they both keep a journal and they write letters to each other. There's some angst but its so so so sweet such a good read)

Time Waits for No One by Shotgun_sinner (104k)(Explicit) - After Will turns Hannibal away in Digestivo, he does not surrender to Jack. Instead, he heads to Cuba with Chiyoh, where he recovers from emotional and physical wounds. Hannibal was resolved to let Will go, and he does. Until he reads a Wedding Engagement announcement, that is. (THIS ONE IS SO GOOOD)

On Hiatus by Observe_or_Participate (197k)(Explicit) - AU where Abigail and Hannibal met in similar circumstances to those narrated in S1, only without Will being in the picture. They bonded. 4 years later, it's early summer 2021. Hannibal and Abigail are living in Tuscany as father and daughter, where they run a high-end bed and breakfast in a remote location on the hills... amongst other things. FBI profiler Will Graham, on leave from work after the restrictions caused by the Covid-19 pandemic worsened his already iffy mental health, arrives on the premises, for reasons he is not fully ready to admit to himself. An incendiary attraction between our two boys is inevitable, but how honest can they really be with each other? (THIS IS SO UNDERRATED OMG)

between here and there by deadratz (78k)(Explicit) - Will's name is the last word Hannibal spoke in his presence. That was two months ago, directly after the fall, and Hannibal has not said a single word since. Now Will has to navigate through their lives together without Hannibal's voice to guide him. (PLEASE READ THIS ONE IT IS SO BEAUTIFUL)

Falling Away with You by Shotgun_sinner (191k)(Explicit) - Will Graham is a private detective with a fiancée who doesn't understand him, his empathy disorder, or his obsession with catching the Chesapeake Ripper. His night terrors force him into an ultimatum; couple's therapy, or their relationship is done. Will meets his new therapist, Hannibal Lecter, and his entire world is turned upside down. (this is one of the first hannigram fics i ever read and i still come back to it often it is so good)

Dianthus Barbatus by Cynthia_Cross (84k)(Explicit) - Set 10 years before the start of the show, Will and Hannibal meet in the dead of night while dumping the bodies of their respective victims in the same place. (THIS IS SOME GOOD SHIT HERE)

With a Crown of Stars by romanticallyinept (33k)(Explicit) - When the call connects, Will says, “I know what kind of crazy I am, but I’m not this kind of crazy.” “Will?” Dr. Lecter says. “Yes, hi, sorry,” Will says. “It’s me. There’s a baby on my porch.” (A cute kidfic to end with. I was grinning the whole time)

I hope you guys enjoy these. If you read any of them(or have read them before) tell me your thoughts. I feel like i don't have anyone to scream with about fics

@imthebisexual @mildlyinterestedcreature

[secretmellowblog]

Reading today's @lesmisletters chapter and I'm really struck by the parallel between Marius and his mother, Madame Pontmercy. The way Gillenormand is grieving Madame Pontmercy adds another layer to their relationship. She also chose Bonapartism and Colonel Pontmercy over her father, and Gillenormand also cut her off for it, and she also died estranged from Gillenormand. Marius's aunt even makes this comparison directly, saying that “My father never cared very much for my sister after her folly. It is clear that he detests Marius.” It's fascinating how Gillenormand's implied grief over the death of his daughter changes his character? He's already lost one child over this, and if he keeps refusing to change his ways he's going to lose another. This has happened to him before, and if he still refuses to change it will happen again. I've mentioned before that Victor Hugo used Les Mis to explore his own personal grief at the tragic death of his own young daughter, Leopoldine Hugo, who died at the age of 19. There's a repeating image in Les Mis of parents grieving separation from their children. Gillenormand's behavior in this chapter echoes Georges Pontmercy, Fantine, and Jean Valjean-- all these parental figures we see slowly wasting away without their child:

He had had placed in his chamber, opposite the head of his bed, so that it should be the first thing on which his eyes fell on waking, an old portrait of his other daughter, who was dead, Madame Pontmercy, a portrait which had been taken when she was eighteen. He gazed incessantly at that portrait. One day, he happened to say, as he gazed upon it:— “I think the likeness is strong.” “To my sister?” inquired Mademoiselle Gillenormand. “Yes, certainly.” The old man added:— “And to him also.”

The Arai Manga depicts this moment really well-- including the moment afterwards where he instantly snaps when people bring up Marius to him:

I also think this adds another layer to his panic and despair when Marius leaves his home. He realizes Marius isn't coming back, ever, because he's done this before-- he has already had a child that left and never returned:

He began again, with a pitiful rattle: “Run after him! Bring him back! What have I done to him? He is mad! He is going away! Ah! my God! Ah! my God! This time he will not come back!” He went to the window which looked out on the street, threw it open with his aged and palsied hands, leaned out more than half-way, while Basque and Nicolette held him behind, and shouted:— “Marius! Marius! Marius! Marius!” But Marius could no longer hear him, for at that moment he was turning the corner of the Rue Saint-Louis. The octogenarian raised his hands to his temples two or three times with an expression of anguish, recoiled tottering, and fell back into an armchair, pulseless, voiceless, tearless, with quivering head and lips which moved with a stupid air, with nothing in his eyes and nothing any longer in his heart except a gloomy and profound something which resembled night.

[jamneuromain]

Another Man's Poison Part 1

Curtis Everett x You

Warning: 18+, Multiple prompts: A/B/O; “Show me.” + Frightened + Cabin in the woods, Shifter!Curtis Everett, Shifter!Reader, discussion of the transformation ritual and prima nocta, poisoning, mentioning of the results of poisoning. Less than decent parents. Grumpy Curtis in general.

Summary: You have accidentally come across a scheme that could shatter your shifter clan and your life. Unable to think of any way to stay away from this catastrophe, you turn to Curtis for help.

W/C: ~2.2k

A/N: the third entry to for this amazing event organized by @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420 <3 (I thought I could finish it by 5.4, but alas my muse is behind me - and to be fair it's a large story I suspect it will go 6k in total so I'm dividing it into two parts ... or three, depends.

Part 2 | One Man's Meat M. List

It is a pretty bitchy thing to do, you suppose, pranking on someone else. But you can't help it if - which in fact, indeed happened - that sneaky bitch Margo smeared red paint on your pants during the painting lesson and made it look like your period was a massive flood. You are getting your payback one way or another, and what better way is there than to put dead lizards into her bed?

Margo, just in case anyone within the thirty miles premises doesn't know her already, is the cheer leading captain of the Ridgemount High, which obviously has given her every right to bully other people.

To you, she is the daughter of the second-in-command of your shifter pack. She somehow believed herself to be the future pack leader, terrorizing and threatening any younger pack members who refuse to do her biddings.

She's 19, by the way. Same as you, in the senior year of high school.

Back to the subject.

Payback.

You collected a bag of dead lizards from the forest this morning. Holding the bag in your hand, you sneak near Margo's house as subtle as possible, walking on tip toes just so you wouldn't make a noise. The grown wolves of this pack could hear a branch snap a mile away, which is why you have to be quiet.

Maybe Lady Luck has been on your side, for the small venture towards Margo's house has been uneventful. You picked the time knowing precisely that most of the shifters are gathering at Paul's, where they will be discussing the upcoming transformation ceremony for the shifters who have come of the age 19 this year to transform, first time ever in their lives, into their wolf form under the moon. That would include you, Margo, and the Maximoff twins.

You are going to enter the house via the backdoor when you hear three men talking inside.

"... the best time to attack would be the ceremony," says one of the men. By the sound of his voice, you believe he is Margo's brother Halden, "He would never see this coming."

"He thought he was tired," sounding like Paul's younger brother Sam, sniggers another, "He doesn't suspect a thing other than his old age. By the way, great idea, the wolfsbane."

The wolfsbane is one of the deadliest plants known to you wolf shifters. What the hell are they planning? You cover your mouth not to make a sound, but you press your ear closer to the door.

"Paul would be in his weakness form on the night of the full moon." The third one joins the conversation, "I will challenge him then. He will lose fair and square. And nothing, I mean nothing will stop me from becoming the Alpha of this pack."

Fuck. It's an uprising. Your heart beats like the rhythm of war drums. The third one seems like Margo's father Jason. No wonder Margo has always held her head high like she was going to own the pack.

"When I'm in charge," huffing out an evil laugh, Jason continues, "I'm restoring prima nocta."

You have heard about prima nocta, a habit dying out decades ago. It was first initiated for the need of the leader of the pack, also known as pack Alpha, to pick the best and suiting female, his true mate, to bear his pups. But the "first-night" habit died out because female shifters would writher fairly quickly without the love and adoration after connecting to Alpha, since true mates are rather rare, and as shifter packs welcomed the more acceptable way of entering relationships like regular humans, "prima nocta" no longer exists except for some rare closed-off packs.

The three men share their visions of the sick and twisted ruling of this pack, but the thought of being owned and taken by a shifter twice your age has you nearly hurling your guts out.

The men plans a few more items before the sound of a loud slap makes you shudder. "I said Show me, goddammit!" Yells Jason, "I need to see the moon calendar!"

As they continue to plot and scheme against the pack Alpha Paul, you retreat in small steps. And you run. You run as fast as you could, far away from the house.

"So what do you need me for?" Asks Curtis, when he pours more chamomile tea into the porcelain mug in front of you.

Curtis joined the Wilford clan several years ago as a part-time doctor and a full-time herbologist. The Wilford clan needs access to fresh herbs, and your clan lacks a shifter doctor, hence, both clans have cut a deal.

Curtis would help diagnose and treat illness for your clan, and he could wander in your clan's mountains to harvest a patch of herbs he grows. In return, these herbs could be used by the Wilford clan as well.

Curtis has known both your clans well enough as an outsider who lives on the border of the two clans.

Your nails pick on the edge of the scorching mug nervously, as you truly have nowhere else to turn to, "My parents were on board with the uprising, as were a couple of families ... so I fled. And I'm not a wolf ... not yet, until the ceremony. I also know that Jason would claim every female wolf of age..." A bile of vomit rises to your throat at the thought, "Can you help me? To delay the transformation?" You look up at Curtis, hopefully, at the silent young shifter that has drifted from one clan to another. Rumor has it that he finished the transformation ceremony without the help of a clan, which is an utter rarity in the history of shifters.

Curtis scratches his eyebrows and hums, neither confirming nor denying your plea. His eyes stopped meeting yours upon hearing your request, sipping on his tea silently.

"I just need another moon cycle to figure out how I can run away from them. And find another clan." You ramble on, uncertain why you share your plan with a member of a foreign clan, especially someone who could possibly rat you out, as you barely know him, but you ramble on, "By the next full moon, I would be transforming into a wolf in another clan. That's plausible, right?"

Curtis finally glances at you. His brows furrow into a tight knot over his cerulean eyes, deadpans, "It's not that simple."

"But you have done it." You blurt out, clinging to your last line of hope, "They told me that you have transformed without a pack."

Curtis shakes his head, standing from his chair to boil water on the stove, clearly not willing to proceed on this topic further.

"Have you tried warning Paul Deckard? The ceremony is in two days." He checks the moon calendar on the wall.

"I -"

Truth is, you haven't.

Paul might not be the best pack Alpha in the world. He relies on Margo's family way too much and allows Jason and Halden to have their way with the pack already. You doubt telling Paul would make much difference, and it sure doesn't seem like Paul could outnumber so many families at the same time. Not to mention the wolfsbane poison could slowly drive him mad.

If you have to confess, you haven't thought about warning Paul at all, after learning your parents' intention of joining the uprising.

You were busy thinking about yourself. And your future. And whether you could live all by yourself.

And you instantly thought about Curtis.

"Okay." Curtis sighs heavily, dragging the chair across the table closer to you, before plopping down, "Clearly, you don't know the ceremony enough to ask me a dumb question like this."

"But -"

Curtis doesn't give you time to argue, he just continues on his own, "The moon calendar is precisely calculated so that the ceremony is at a night when the lunar power is at its peak. You miss this moon, you can't get it for another year."

"I -"

"Don't get me started on the postpone bullshit." He snaps at you, making you shudder involuntarily at his fist banging on the table, to which his voice lowers by a little, "It's risky as hell to cut yourself off from the lunar power. The Alpha in Dakota drank some wrong potion and cut himself from the lunar power and his wolf, guess what?"

"What?" You weakly offer.

"He splits his wolf spirit from his own." Curtis mocks with a cold sneer, "His pack has to put him under a mental facility, and now all he does is walk on all fours and sniff around like a dog. And before you ask," Curtis glares at your lips, when you are tempted to speak, "no, he cannot transform to his wolf form. Not now, not ever, not even the day he dies."

"One of the reason that the ceremony has to perform with the full pack," He adds, standing up to get the screeching kettle from the stove, pouring more hot water to the tea pot, "is to have the pack's mental energy concentrated on smoothing the transformation. When you turn wolf for the first time," Curtis sighs loudly, pouring himself a cup of tea, "You get your wolf spirit and your wolf form in a few seconds. It's easy to feel scared, different, angry, confused, a bucket full of emotions all at the sametime, and it is not easy to control your wolf without the psychic link of the pack, without the familiarity of your families. That's the reason why solo transformation ceremony is highly discouraged."

Chamomile tea is supposed to be soothing, but all you feel right now is bitter remorse of seeking for Curtis' help. You bite back the tears prickling your eyes, unsure why you came to him at the first place when all he does is dismantle your plan into a pile of turd.

"You are saying, there's no way that -" You take a long inhale, keeping yourself calm as much as possible. Yet, on the thought of you and a bunch of girls being the sex slaves of Jason has your tears bursting out of your sockets, streaming down your cheek.

The humiliation, the regret, and the embarrassment knock your brain out cold, and all you could do is to wipe the tears off your face with the back of your hand.

Curtis sighs one more time, before handing you a box of Kleenex.

You refuse it, though, pushing the tissues away and standing abruptly from your chair. "I'm sorry. This is a bad idea." You keep crying and sobbing, and wiping your tears, walking towards the door, "I understand now. I'll be out of your hair."

Curtis clenches his jaw out of ... mixed feelings, he guess. What a stubborn little pup you are, dreaming of delaying the transformation to escape the evil clutches of Jason.

It is inevitable, really, as pack leaders emerge every two or three decades, as the older Alpha weakens from disease and age, while younger Alpha emerges from their transformation ceremonies, and takes over. Sometimes it is a smooth transition of power, other times it could turn out like Jason and Paul, poisoning and scheming.

On a completely irrelevant note, he has to do this. To lend you a hand. A, Curtis isn't a complete bastard, despite what Wilford, the kind and loving Alpha, keeps telling others. And B, ... well, he'd rather not mention the second reason.

But he's not going to stand by and watch you risk your lives either, yours and your wolf's.

He runs his hand down his face, dashing forward and blocking the only exit out of this house because he could. Blocking your chance of running away because he doesn't want you to. And sighs again.

He has probably used up the annual quotation of his sighing.

"Stop." He growls.

It's an Alpha command. A voice that compells low-ranking shifters. It works better with blood ties and mating bonds, ordering the low-ranking ones to obey and deliver what the Alpha wants. It is cruel, that one stronger Alpha could command a weaker Alpha, or weak-minded shifters. He has thought about commanding Jason and Sam to stop, but he doubts it could work, as they could very well tear his throat before Curtis could say anything.

He hates issuing it, on another level. Just like how he hates it when he issued a command to Wilford years ago, ordering the pack Alpha to permit him to stay. Curtis has the power and the strength to be an Alpha. But he hates it. He hates it when his father Alpha-commanded his mother and his younger siblings to do dirty deeds for the Everett pack. Which was why he ran, and initiated the transformation ceremony on his own.

Yet he does it now, just so you might stay.

And you did. You don't know why you did. Your body responded to his words faster than your brain could proceed. Your steps freeze in their tracks, your shoulders shivering, afraid yet submissive to the natural command of an Alpha.

Curtis crosses his arms in utter annoyance and defeat. There is only one way that he know of, that could provide a safe transformation ceremony with less shifters involved.

If he tread carefully, it might work.

Might.

Sneak Peek for Part 2:

Your body can feel it. It is being called to at a wrong time, a wrong place. The moon is dropping low by the second and the right time has passed. The right time was hours ago.

Thirty minutes until the moon descends completely, and you have to get the wolf out.

Curtis paces around you.

"Sit down, will you? It's not like my wolf is counting your steps and waiting for the right number." You snap at him, despite knowing that you have dragged him into this mess in the first place. A little snarl slips out of your lips. Your wolf spirit is awakening, but not quite yet. Not quite there to unleash your wolf form.

Curtis has his gaze zeroing on you. His eyes narrow for a split second before pushing two words out of his clenched teeth:

"Excuse me?"

Find my Cum Together Trifecta here 👈

Questions? Comments? Requests? 👉Send them to my inbox 👂

A/N2: sorry in advance, but I have come across a hilarious screenshot of a show and I believe - I'm not sure really - it's in Russian

and this screenshot represents my feelings whenever i'm looking back at my works

[sinner-sunflower]

A HH Lucifer-centric AU 7/?

PART 1 , PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22

TW: Su!cidal ideation

Finally some RadioApple aljsdlajls 

VERY SHORT but

RADIOAPPLE!!!!

I hope you guys like this.

IF THERE ARE ANY GRAMMAR ERRORS, FORGIVE ME.

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

It's about to rain.

Rain wasn't uncommon in Hell, but it wasn't that common either. It's mostly acid rain that comes down- another punishment from The Almighty. As if Falling wasn't enough. As if watching over his biggest failure wasn't enough.

It's beautiful to look at, though. Lucifer likes to think that the rain in hell is his Father's and siblings' tears. Sure helped him feel less lonely to delude himself that he is missed.

The Sin of Pride. He still doesn't get why he is that.

What other sin have I done other than love, Father?

Lucifer nurses a glass of apple Beelzejuice by his mouth. He's sitting on the counter of his personal mini-bar as he looks past the open balcony. A voice cuts through his thoughts.

Alastor: Looks like we might have some acid rain this afternoon~

The king of hell didn't even bother to turn his head at the sudden appearance of the radio demon. Alastor didn't seem to take offense to being ignored, only moving around the bar to make his own drink.

Lucifer doesn't really drink but he likes to mix up stuff every now and then. The process makes him feel like he's back in Eden making-

He shakes his head. Nope, not gonna go there.

Alastor finishes making his drink- a whiskey on the rocks- and joins Lucifer in overlooking the skies.

Lucifer: I'm really tired, Alastor. I think I have been for a long time.

Lucifer downs the drink and brings up his infected hand. Alastor stays quiet beside him, emitting a low static.

Lucifer: You know, I didn't actually know if it wouldn't kill me. I just saw that dead demon pig and moved without thinking. Just one touch and maybe I would... 

A cold feeling upon his fingertips snaps him back. Alastor hands him a drink which makes him raise an eyebrow but he takes the drink nonetheless.

Lucifer: Cider?

Alastor: Apple~

Lucifer: What? You think these are drunken words?

Alastor: I think.. that you've had enough for tonight, my dear.

Lucifer: I had one glass.

Alastor: Of the Prince of Gluttony's strongest. 

Lucifer scoffs.

Lucifer: Touche. But I can't get drunk.

He says, earning a hum from Alastor.

Alastor: Drunk in your own demons. Ha!

Lucifer: Ugh. That was such a shit pun.

Alastor: Made you smile, have I not, my Majesty?

Huh. Will you look at that? Lucifer did have a small smile but Alastor was sporting that irritating grin of his so he didn't dignify him with an answer.

Quiet again.

Normally, Lucifer would awkwardly rant about this and that just to fill the suffocating silence. The first few hours after the fall - before the Sins and everything else- it was just silence. The only sound that could be heard in the vast darkness was his and Lilith's pained breathing.

After his Lily leaves, he punishes himself by isolation. Just him, alone. Like how it should have been. He damned humanity. He damned Lilith. Now, he damned his most precious daughter.

He thought he would never find peace in silence again.

That is, until a certain radio demon.

Lucifer would never admit it, but that first time they met- the banter, the singing, the one-upping- it was the most alive he felt in more than 10,000 years.

Sure, Alastor was a raging asshole that was using his daughter to piss him off and he wanted nothing more than to permanently kill the guy.

Oh, who was he kidding, the bastard still does that.

But... somehow, along the way, they became (dare he say) good friends. Recently, he feels like they transitioned into something more. The constant touches, the domestic moments in the kitchen, that kiss.

When he's with Alastor, he forgets why he even hated the silence.

He sees that Alastor didn't make another drink.

Lucifer: Drunk already?

Alastor smiles- one of his rare genuine smiles that Lucifer only sees when they are alone- and walks in front of him. The demon stands in between Lucifer's legs that were slightly swinging.

Alastor puts his hands on the counter, caging the king of hell on either side.

Their faces move on their own. Coming closer until their lips were barely touching.

Alastor: With your company? Always.

Then finally, their lips touch one another's. Lucifer never thought he's experience this kind of intimacy again after Lilith.

The kiss was slow, but deep- they could feel each other's passion. One of Lucifer's hands finds its way to Alastor's hair to pull him closer.

The moment couldn't be longer. Alastor pulls away first but places a hand on his king's waist.

Alastor: Don't stay away for too long in your venture, little apple.

He places a small kiss on Lucifer's hand. The smaller gives the other a teasing smile.

Lucifer: What? You'll miss me?

The overlord only smirks.

Alastor: Dearly.. my Lucifer~

With that Alastor left, leaving Lucifer with himself again. He stares at the Morningstar portrait, focusing on his daughter's smiling face.

He'll make this right.

Lucifer: For Charlie.

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

What to look forward for in Part 8:

Charlie and Lucifer will finally talk before he leaves.

[rennorthernlights]

The World We Knew

Chapter 1: Radioheart, Chapter 2, Chapter 3,

Trigger warnings; Zombies, mentions of death, very brief mention of suicide in the very beginning.

You can also go to AO3 for RenNorthenLights. I post more on there than here. If you go to my AO3 than PLEASE look at the tags for this fic! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

——————————————————————————————

October-ish, 2023. Time??? Location???

It’s become almost routine now.

Waking up at the ass crack of dawn, checking her backpack, cleaning her rifle, making sure the ‘room’ she’s in is safe. Over a year ago she wouldn’t be up this early. Over a year ago she wouldn’t even be touching her fathers rifle without permission. But life has a funny way of throwing curve balls. In this sense, life threw a massive curve ball at everyone and everything. The world as she knew it become sick with disease— No, not COVID-19, though many speculated that it was the reason, the beginning of it all. No it was the dead-come-back-to-life-and eat-your-face kinda disease. Normally people bring up that type of disease in conversations with speculations on the “what if” scenarios of what they’d do.

Many of her college friends all had plans and ideas and yet most of them now roam the streets looking for the next person to chomp on. Ironic isn’t it? She never believed she’d live this long hell many times the conversation of “Quick a zombie apocalypse happens! What do you do?!” She’d laugh and says she’d die in the next month or two. To which her friends would moan and groan because surely “You wouldn’t give up so easily?? Come onnnn what would you actually do.” She’d think it over and before putting much thought, she said.

“I’d kill myself.” Her friends went silent before laughing at how serious she sounded and even she laughed. A good banter back and forth as her college friends sipped on cheap booze. “No, no, but in all seriousness. I’d stay with my parents. My dads a police Captain after all. He’s taught me how to shoot before I could write and my ma… well she’ll probably teach me something.” Snorting a chuckle since her moms a teacher. One of her friends asks what she’d do if her parents became zombies.

“Well I guess I’d try to find groups to stay in. What do y’all think? I guess I’d put up with y’all.” Nudging her friend playfully on the shoulder. Laughter in the room as the music starts playing and the cheep booze starts kicking in. As her friends dance and sing to “Only Girl in the World” by Rihanna she sits on the couch in deep thought. Her drink in hand as she thinks bout her life. Thinks about her finals coming up and how she’s gotta take all the tests to become a nurse. Both her parents were exceptionally happy that she didn’t follow in their footsteps.

“I love kids but please… do not become a teacher.” Her mother sounded so exhausted when they spoke early on the phone. “And don’t become a police officer!” Her father yells in the background. The running joke for every phone call even though her parents are well aware that she’s going to be a nurse. She’s been deadset on it since she was a kid. She doesn’t plan on telling her ma that she’s gonna try and apply to be the school nurse where her ma works. Sipping her booze some more as the apple news on her phone pings “Reports of a New Virus, Scientists say… ”

She huffs, reading the first couple of paragraphs before getting bored and exiting out of the article. “Probably another variant of COVID. Great another shot I’m gonna have to take.” Turning her phone off and chugging her drink before she starts dancing with her giggly and much too drunk friends.

————————————————————

Oh how life turned so fast and so quickly the following week. Nearly half of the friends in the room became the first percentages of “Turned” and the other half “Missing, have you seen them?” She barely made it out herself. But that’s life. Cruel and beautiful and so, so lonely in the world she now knows. She stays too long thinking about it and she’ll drown. She doesn’t want to think about her friends, her home, her… family. It’s still too much even after all this time. Even with it being well over a year it still hurts.

Shaking her head of those thoughts as she gets situated. Glad that she triple checked the ‘room’ she’s in. Her anxiety has been through the roof these last couple days and every lil noise is having her jump. At least she can put her mind at ease since she’s checked and barricaded the exit. A couple deads outside that she handled quickly. Who knew that she’s be so proficient with a bat and knife? She’s a good shot but before a to keep her rifle hidden. Not many bullets being made anyways..

She turns her radio on as she waits for it to come to life. For months she been speaking on it. Using it as a dairy of sorts, it helps her when she feels the loneliest. Helps when the days feel colder than what it typically does in Texas. She spoke and spoke until one day it started speaking back. The man on the radio commented how he’s been hearing her speak and at first, he and his group thought it was a hoax since they couldn’t get the radio to work. She didn’t speak on it for days, but the men would still speak back and call out to her.

Finally, she worked up the courage to speak back and from then on, they’ve become a part of her routine. Once a day around noon they’d speak. She has her rules, No names, no locations, no descriptions. She doesn’t want to get attached only to one day not hear them speak back again. She doesn’t need another name added to her list of grief. That, and as much as she wants to trust them, she knows that humans can be just as dangerous if not more so.

“Static, come in Static.” She grins as she sits in the office room that she’s been sleeping in. Stretching her legs as she’s never gotten used to the floors even after all this time. Her legs stiff as her other hand rubs her knee. The radio crinkles and scratches until finally.

“Must you keep calling me that?” The man speaks, the heavy Scottish accent shining through, and she can just tell he’s grinning. “I’ve told ya, mah name is Joh- “

“No,” she cuts him off as she clicks on the button. “No names. I don’t... I don’t want to hear it, please.” She’s told him before that she doesn’t want to hear his name. He’s been understanding but sometimes he’ll still try it... The thought that there is an actual person behind the radio scares her and intrigues her. Hearing someone even through all this mess makes it all bearable even if it’s just by a little bit. “Don’t make me ‘hang up’.” A lighthearted threat. She wouldn’t actually do that. She needs her daily talks with them.

“I know, Bonnie, I know,” the voice speaks with understanding. The man knows all too well on why it’s easier to stay nameless, easier to not be attached incase the voice one day doesn’t speak back. “But one day I would love ta hear my name from your pretty voice.” The voice chuckles, “Where are ya now?” A hopeful tinged to his voice.

“You know I don’t give locations, Static.” Singing back her words with a furrow of her brow. “But… I’m in an office building.”

“Ah, I see that’s become a fan favorite of yours.” A tease in the man’s voice. “Oh, it seems my friend wants to speak to ya.” Her eyes perk up as she knows who is about to speak.

“Electricity!” She smiles big and she just knows Static is rolling his eyes.

“Sunshine haven’t heard from you since, Static,” emphasizing the other man’s nickname and she can practically hear the glare. “has been hogging you.” Electricity, as she’s been calling him even though he’s also tried to get her to call him by his name, has a much softer voice. Calmer and levelheaded compared to Static who's more outgoing and louder. She’s called them the duo 1 and duo 2 before she called them Static and Electricity. Much to their annoyance and amusement, much better than her other idea of calling them Thing 1 and Thing 2.

“Well next time hit him or something.” She smiles as she can hear Static mouthing off something. Probably Static telling him where she’s been in for a bit. “In an office building again? That seems to be your usual, yeah?” The man speaks lowly. His words concerned and yet with the subtleness of memorizing something.

“Am I that predictable, Electricity? She stands up from where she was sitting. “Static said something similar.”

“Not predictable just doing what you always do, Sunshine.”

“That’s… That means I’m being predictable.” She teases as he stammers.

“No, no, I meant that you are more comfortable with what you know to be safe.”

“Soooo predictable with my safety?” She teases as she can hear him muttering “bollocks” like he always does when, she assumes, he is flustered. “I’m pulling your leg, Electricity. Just messing around and being a brat.”

He laughs and sighs in relief. His voice cool like the summer breeze after a rainy day. “So where are you?” His voice sounding slightly insistent.

“No where near you.” Rolling her eyes as they always ask the same questions everytime they talk. “Quit askin, I’m fine on my own. I don’t do groups and you know why.” She’s told them about her run in with the only group she’s been with. Handmaidens Tale meet zombie apocalypse and she barely got out.

“I know, I know, you’ve done well on your own, but a little help goes a long way, Sunny.” Sometimes she wishes she would hate the nicknames that they give her but it does give a warm fuzziness in her stomach whenever they say it. Sighing as she speaks back. “Oh yes because you’re military right?” A bit of sarcasm in her voice as this is one of her questions that she always asks.

“Taskforce 141, Special Operation Forces, you already know this, Lass.” The other man speaks making her jolt. Guess he was listening in when she was speaking to Electricity.

“Yeah, yeah, just making sure you’re not lying and trying to sound more badass than you both already do.” Remarking quickly as a light blush spread on her face. The way he’s speaking sounds deeper. Like she’s in trouble somehow and he’s going to correct her.

“We know, Sunshine, we know you just want to be safe. It’s hard to trust especially with the dead around.” Electricity’s speaks softly, the cool to Static’s heat, “But to say it again; Joh— I mean, Static, is a Sergeant and I am also a Sergeant. Static is an expert in demolitions and trained as a sniper. I myself am an expert with prime target eliminations and covert surveillance.” He says it so sincerely and she has half a mind to believe him.

“And why are you all the way in Texas then?” They’ve told her how they moved up here and she knows the reason, but she wants them to say it again.

“We received word that a base, Fort Sam Houston, was working on a cure for the zombie virus. The BAMC is a hospital within that fort that was conducting research.” Electricity sites off the very thing that they’ve repeated for the last month.

“And?” She makes a go on motion that they can’t see but she knows that they can imagine that’s what she’s doing.

“But when we got there it was already over run and Kyl— I mean Electricity almost got killed in the process.” Static says, he sounds upset. “We’ve been over this, Lass. We tell you about the same things over and over again.” A hushed murmur from Electricity is heard and she starts feels bad.

“I know… I’m sorry, I just...” she starts off as she tries to not sound upset. “I just want to make sure that I can trust you. Last time I did...”

“Handmaidens tale, you’ve told us about it. The leader, Abraham, is a far-right Christian, yes?” Static says the man’s name and she shivers as she gives a tiny yes in reply. “He tried to keep you. To force you to stay with his group and be treated as a... how did you say it?”

“A breading cow.”

“Yes, that,” he sighs deeply on the radio, and she wonders what he and Electricity looks like. Wonders if they are as comforting as their warm voices. Wonders if they have beards or stubbles but her self-imposed rules keep her from asking. “I know it’s a lot, learnin ta trust when it's hard to. We’ve promised since the beginnin ta be honest and if I ever see him.” The threat is laced in his voice but he clears his throat. “Enough of that. We are finally moving to Houston. We acquired a car. A Jeep to be more precise. Any chance we’ll be near ya?”

“You might be…” she says softly as she bites her tongue. The urge to let them come to her gets harder and harder to say no to everyday they speak. “I don’t give locations, Static.”

“I know but can’t blame a man for trying. Oh?” She can hear his eyebrows furrowing as voices in the background speak. They’ve told her that they are a group of 4 in total. She’s never heard the other 2 speak but she can sometimes hear them… they sound funny. “It seems we have to cut this shorter, Bonnie.”

“We’ll speak again tomorrow, Sunshine, we promise.” The other man promises, and she knows they will. They’ve never broken a promise. Never did more than what they couldn’t do from the month that they’ve talked.

“I’ll see you both tomorrow and please,” she stresses the word as she hopes and prays that one day they can meet. That she’ll be brave enough to let them in and find her. “Please be safe. Please don’t get hurt, okay? I’ll metaphorically hit you, I swear I will.”

“Always, Bonnie, we will always be safe. Take care and check corners and windows. Make sure you can quickly get’n and out. Don’t go’n if your gut tells ya not to.” Static says, listing off his advice like he would to a fresh-faced recruit. “Don’t play fair and don’t play kind. Everyone’s an enemy until proven otherwise.” He waits a couple seconds before he passes it to the other man.

“Make sure to pack light and that you can easily grasp your weapon.” Electricity warns. A deep sigh from him before he speaks, “And if you ever… if you ever need help, just... please just tell us. We’ll do whatever we can to come for you, okay?” He waits and waits for her to speak but when she doesn’t, he sighs. He waits another minute and then the radio turns to static signaling the end of their conversation.

“I know,” she says softly as she hears the static of the radio. “Be safe, please be safe.” She murmurs the bits of name that she has overheard them say. Going against her own rules of not saying their names even though she knows it’s half of what their names are. She’s gotten too attached and now… now she’s worried. Worried for men she’s never met and probably never will.

“One can dream,” she rolls her shoulders and bends to stretch. Her stomach growling as she knows it’s about time to eat. Pulling her backpack on the office desk and opening it. A couple cans of food and jerky from gas stations. 2 water bottles and a simple medkit along with an extra shirt and pants. “Okay… raviolis or beans….” Humming as sits and pops open the beans. “I’ll save the raviolis for a special day.”

She’s sat for too long on her ass now it’s time to get a move on. Can’t stay for too long in the same places. Always gotta keep moving to different places. Curse the anxiety that still makes her think that a zombie is around every corner. Guess that’s what she’s been alive for so long.

[belonareyna]

I think Fandom just made into my head and make it cannon.

1. Because Kevin and Thea did not star TALKING until Kevin was 18. TALKING. NOT DATING. I still don't like that relationship because of the different ways they survive their trauma of being in a fucking cult (also they experience was ABSOLUTELY different, Kevin was Riko’s property, Thea was "Raven's" idk if you know what I mean)

2. Aaron, up until this day, I hadn't found ANY reference in the book to the thought. "He thought he was different to the foxes and that he didn’t belong with the "outsiders"??? He gets mad when they say he acts like Andrew (which I get), but he's not the one saying he's the "normal" twin.

3. Andrew on his meds is a dangerous person, abusive even. And Neil sees it. I know their reality is not our privileged reality, but still.

"That's not okay," Neil said, pointing at the door.

"That's nothing," Nicky said.

Neil caught his arm as Nicky passed and hauled him to a stop. "Don't let him get away with things like that."

Nicky considered him for a moment, his smile fading into something small and tired. "Oh, Neil. You're going to make this so hard on yourself. Look," he said, tugging free and turning Neil toward the door. "Andrew is a little bit crazy. Your lines are not his lines, so you can get all huff and puff when he tramps across yours, but you'll never make him understand what he did wrong. Moreover, you'll never make him care. So just stay out of his way."

"He's like this because you let him get away with it," Neil said. "You're putting all of us at risk."

"That was my fault." Nicky opened the door and waited for Neil to precede him out. "I said something I shouldn't have, and I got what I deserved."

And everyone I have read here justifies his actions. I understand his actions, and where they're coming from. But justifie them? Nope

4. Kevin is not a bitch for leaving Jean. Do you know when they rescue someone from human trafficking? How they can not get back for the rest of them, because then they would be put in danger again? The same goes for here. Getting back would literally make Riko not have one but two victims again. And it's unfair to Jean, but this is nothing but the Moriyamas fault.

5. Nicky makes absolutely horrible comments & disgusting "offers." But he's not just that. He's a 20 or 21 kid who flew from his save place to a country where he almost committed suicide to fight for two 14-year-old traumatized children, so they weren't given to his good for nothing parents. He protected them the best he could.

FROM NOW ON THOUGHTS AND MY OWN HEADCANNONS

6. Andrew is a 19 traumatized child who still wants his brother. Why the fuck he's always bringing Tilda? Because he wants a reaction from Aaron. Through the series, Neil says that Aaron is quite apathetic to everything. But Tilda's dead must still burn. Why mention it when there is no need if not to get a reaction? I don't believe he just brings it to hurt Aaron.

7. Dan had no right to be angry about Kevin omitting the truth about Wymack being his father. Kevin says he was trying to convince himself that by holding the secret, he was saving David (which actually is true. Her mother died in an accident orchestrated by the Moriyamas), it was not his only reason, but it was a good reasoning.

8. Matt & Aaron should have been endgame. (If you made it though here tell me about a weird aftg couple you ship)

Justification of all of this: is 2a.m. in the morning and I have fever

[angelsanarchy]

Glass Houses: Jack Thurlow x Y/N Series CH 18 -> CH 19

Tagging:@roryculkinluvr@thatsthewrongwallcraig@icarus-star@cc-luvr@madamemaximoff06@shady-the-simp@quicksilversg1rl@s-0lar@kristennero-wallacewellsver@ophelialaufey@mayathepsychic1999@x-prettyboy-x@rorylover71@auggiethecreator

TW: Mentions of molestation, SA, pedophilia

Jack couldn't shake the feeling he had when he got home. It wasn't a bad feeling but more of a curious feeling. Had his parents really talked about him the way Mrs. Fletcher had described? I wasn't like he kept in touch with them like that. He would call for holidays but he rarely visited. He never really felt like going back made much sense because of how independent they seemed. Once he left, it was like they had just started living again. He walked out of the kitchen with a mug of tea that Dr. Carty recommended to calm his nerves at night and sat it next to the piano.

He sat down on the bench and grazed his fingers over the keys, not applying enough pressure for sound. He remembered what it felt like hearing his father play the keys while his mother played her violin in the early evening hours during the weekends. It was hard to think about his childhood now that he knew the truth about his brother and what happened to him. It was hard to think about the things he had blocked out from being a kid that his father only brought to light in his own death.

His fingers started playing the keys without thinking and he almost felt hypnotized by the sound.

"Pick up your tempo Jack. You know this song isn't meant to sound depressing." His mother's voice crept into his head making his fingers stumble. He shook his head trying to clear her from his consciousness. She was the last one he wanted poking around in his brain. The more he played, the better it sounded. He didn't hear the door open but when the floorboard creaked, he looked over to see Y/n standing in the living room behind him.

"Sorry it was so pretty, I didn't want to interrupt." Y/n explained.

"It's fine." He gave her a soft smile and waved her closer. She sat down next to him on the bench and watched him continue to play.

"I just wanted to thank you for coming by and talking to my mom. You were all she could talk about until she went to sleep." Y/n smiled at him.

"Hopefully that's a good thing." Jack smirked.

"Oh it's a nice change from her trying to set me up with literally anyone that comes to the front door." Jack couldn't help but laugh at the thought of the very homosexual mailman being pressured to ask out Y/n by her well-meaning mother.

"I just hope she didn't say anything to upset you. I know we really haven't talked much about your parents but she did mention it was an accident." Y/n didn't give her condolences but she did put her hand on his leg which gave him comfort.

"Y-yeah. They were going on some sort of trip. They did that a lot. The accident report says something must have run out in the road to cause the wreck. I was pretty close with my dad, not so much my mom." Jack explained and watched Y/n's hand rub comforting circles into his leg.

"I kind of had a mental break when I came home last year to deal with it all. They said it was a fit of hysteria. Seeing hallucinations of my dead mother, I thought maybe she was the reason for all of the bad shit in my life and tried to murder her ghost. It was a real show." He tried to laugh it off and Y/n turned her body towards him. He let his hands fall to the tops of his jeans and she stroked his hand carefully.

"Apparently my father had a lot of demons he didn't feel like he wanted to share with me until after his death. Also explained a lot of my mother's resentment towards me too. A part of me wishes I never found any of it but I guess if I was going to find out I was molested by a neighbor and his brood of pedo friends, he didn't want to be the one to have to sit with me in therapy." Jack had never verbalized anything about his sexual assaults to anyone. Dr. Carty could barely get him to acknowledge that it was real when they first started doing sessions together but it made the local news so there was facts backing up what he tried to chalk up to delusions.

Jack waited for Y/n to stumble over herself apologizing or to pull away from him in disgust but she didn't. She couldn't to stroke his hand until he glanced over towards her, trying to meet her eyes.

"Linda is actually my adoptive mom. She was my case worker before she adopted me but my birth father would molest me until I was about nine. One of my babysitters actually called the police when she noticed all the bruising in places no child should have any. I got super lucky with her. She treated me like I was her own, never pushed or prodded when it came to treatment. I even still attend a lot of those sexual assault survivor groups." Y/n opened up to him and he hadn't noticed he had flipped his hand over to hold her hand while she spoke about her childhood trauma.

"I had no idea about that shit happening until I came back here. I still can't really remember it." Jack squinted like he was searching his brain.

"Sometimes its better not to search too hard for those memories. Our brains tries to protect us from shit we don't need to drag to the surface because it didn't make us who we are." Y/n gave his hand a squeeze and he finally met her gaze.

"And if you decide you want to try to figure it out, you aren't alone." Jack couldn't understand how freely she spoke about things that were so life altering with him. They've only been friends a few months and he barely wanted to talk to Shanda about it when he found out.

"How are you so...open about all this shit? I mean your mental health shit and your trauma? I'm still in the stage where I feel like a piece of shit psychopath every other day." Jack felt her grip tighten on his hand.

"There is freedom in knowing that bad shit has happened to you but it's not you. I wasn't always this well adjusted." She added with a laugh bringing his hand to her mouth and kissing the top of it.

"You're smart, Jack. You're capable of being free from the the things that happened to you. We all have bad shit but how we move through life is up to you." Y/n tucked his hair behind his ear and he leaned into her hand.

"Have I told you that you're probably the best thing I've discovered since coming back home?" Jack smile softly and Y/n rubbed his cheek.

"No but a girl doesn't hate compliments." She returned the smile. She didn't stay too much longer after their conversation because she said she had to work but Jack didn't feel overwhelmed when she left.

Typically when talking about the wounds in his life he felt like he would instantly retreat within himself and need to call Dr. Carty but not tonight.

Tonight, all he wanted to think about was the next time he would get to see Y/n. Talk to her. Be in her presence. Touch her. He just wanted something in his life that made him feel good and she was quickly becoming that for him.

[solangelofantotheextreme]

I still like Luke from PJO; I don’t think he’s a villain. Imagine you spend your childhood not knowing who your dad is and being left with a crazy woman who’s also your mother and can’t even recognize you, not to mention the psychotic episodes. Then you decide to run away with a GOLF CLUB for defense and find 2 other lonely kids on the street that you practically adopt and THEN you finally make it to a spot you were suppposed to be safe at only to be ambushed my a monster that kills your best friend who gets turned into a tree. Then you get shoved into a cabin with 50 other kids and never get sent on a quest even though you’ve been there the longest and was a permanent member and newbies are getting sent out despite your experience. And THEN your dead beat father finally sends you on a quest only for you to gain a scar across your eye and to almost die and then come back to camp realizing you still have to sleep in the same place with 50 other random kids. Bro that be traumatizing enough for anyone. Not to mention he’s only 19 and was 14 when he adopted two other kids. Bro just felt angsty for a second and then some dude comes along like “I’ll make everything better, I swear. I’m powerful enough”. ANYONE would take that offer. Then, his is (practically) little sister betrays him and the “good guy” from earlier ends up controlling his mind and possessing his body, making him betray everyone he’s ever loved.

[syrahbat]

New Chapter of My Drarry Fic

Chapters: 4/19 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Astoria Greengrass, Original House-Elf Character(s), Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, Astoria and Daphne Greengrass's Father, Original Auror Characters Additional Tags: Minor Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Depression, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Self-Hatred, Slow Burn, Redemption, Auror Harry Potter, POV Draco Malfoy, Childhood Trauma, Post War, Friendship so strong it haunts the narrative, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary:

Astoria was dead and Draco Malfoy decided all that was left to do was to stuff a leaf into his mouth and become an Animagus.

After his wife Astoria dies at the hands of a blood curse, Draco Malfoy falls under investigation; except the Auror assigned to his case is Harry Potter, and Harry Potter has a very different opinion of Draco than everybody else, including Draco himself.

Excerpt from Chapter 4:

“Is this where he sat?” Pansy asked, pointing to the chaise.

“Yes,” Draco replied. 

“Huh,” Pansy pursed her lips. “Potter sat here and asked you questions.” 

Pansy had barely firecalled her arrival that evening. Since she had been coming every few days to check up on him since January, arranging visits had become more of a social courtesy than a requirement.

“You won’t even talk to me about it,” she murmured as she sat down primly in Potter’s spot and reached out for her tea. Her dark hair, now grown out long past the days of her teenage bob, was lost in the sea of black she wore. He wondered if she wore it as a sign of respect for his loss, but then again, she’d always been fond of dark things.

Draco took his seat and let the sharpness of her tone glance off him. After his meeting with Potter this afternoon, he was too exhausted to fight. “You aren’t an Auror investigating me for murder.”

“So that’s what it is, then,” Pansy raised a brow. “They really think you murdered her?” 

“It appears so,” Draco entwined his fingers and dropped his hands into his lap. He was exhausted. He didn’t know why he’d said yes to Pansy’s visit, though to be fair to him, there really hadn’t been much of an opportunity to say no.

“Well,” Pansy smoothed down her fringe with a ring-clad hand, her voice bored. “Did you?”

Draco snorted. 

Pansy turned her attention outside. The great windows were being pummelled by rain, a storm quickly approaching that would rattle them for a good hour, at least. The beating against the glass was soothing in its aggression.

“You never ask me over for dinner anymore,” Pansy drawled. “It’s only ever tea.”

“Are you lacking for food at home, Pansy?” Draco said flatly. “Come to suckle off my storehouses?” 

Pansy’s eyes whipped back to him, sharp. “There was a time when you wanted my company,” Then her eyes softened. “And Tibs is the best cook in all the country.”

Draco sighed. “I-,”

“It’s alright.” She smoothed her fringe again, twice, three times. “I just meant to say…”

“I know,” Draco nodded.

They fell into bitter, aching silence. Draco had known Pansy for nearly his whole life. They had never been good at this bit. He didn’t expect it, nor want it, to change now. She didn’t need to say the things he knew. I miss you, I don’t know how to be with you, where did you go?

Pansy stood back up.

“I’m—,” She fiddled with her necklace. “I’m going to be quite busy the next while. I won’t be able to come by.”

Draco chewed the inside of his cheek. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, of course. Everything is fine,” She replied, heading for the door. “Just a lot… going on.”

Draco got up from his chair, the creak of his joints loud enough he swore it echoed. The rain pelted the glass as though trying to kill him. “Right, of course.”

“Draco,” She turned at the open door, eyes cast down guiltily, “maybe Potter can help.”

Draco’s eyebrows furrowed with confusion. “What?”

“Maybe he…” She thumbed the wood of the door, “maybe he’s on our side, this time.”

Before he could respond, Pansy closed the door behind her quietly. A roll of thunder pounded through the blackened sky behind him, and he didn’t even jump.

[thefastestelementalmasteralive]

procrastinating school work so let me talk about my starwars (Anakin) aus

There's that lion!Vader Au, if I named it I don't remember the name but basically, either Anakin doesn't tell Padme where he's going or she doesn't go to Mustafar. might actually have R2D2 with Padme as her bodyguard or Anakin just didn't want r2 to know what he did to the separatist leaders. anakin doesn't come back from Mustafar because when he leaves the planet, the force decides 'okay, enough atrocities for the next... two decades.' and transforms him into a lion and sends him to a green planet. Sidious finds him a year later and decides to just build a gladiator ring and throw him in there to execute the people he wants dead on television.

19 years later Luke, Leia, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, Padme, Cody, and Rex all get captured and are sentenced to be executed as a group with some other non-important people. Anakin eats the non-important people and vaguely recognizes some but tries to kill Luke and Leia because he doesn't recognize them.

SITS au - sith in the senate au - me trying to explore my favorite arc (mortis) and what would have happened if Anakin left with the son (and the daughter) and the father let Ahsoka and Obi-wan go thirty minutes later but Anakin is nowhere in sight when they go back to the real world. this is also the au where the Tusken massacre is really addressed in this au, in others it didn't happen, obviously in lion!vader it did since it only changes in rots. i don't know if it's really a character study that I'm doing for this au but I'm actually writing an essay on Anakin for my writing class and I'm so using elements from this for that and from that for this.

(please- someone stop me from making Barriss run away from the Jedi and Anakin adopting Barriss after she ends up on Tatooine and Anakin gets over his initial feeling of 'YOU D:<')

14!au. i have no other name for it as of right now.

anakin gets found by Palpatine and Shmi dies (i think) but surely its not you Pal Friendpatine's fault :0

Anyway, Palpatine finds Anakin at like... 5 and adopts him and brings him on his path to becoming chancellor and then the clone wars start at the Naboo blockade, Palpatine started cloning **early**. no, I have no idea how old Jango Fett is, why do you ask? anakin befriends some of the clones and takes an interest in politics because he thinks he can convince then senate to stop creating clones and just recruit normal civilians to the army.

this au is inspired by Hazbin Hotel song 'you didn't know' and some brave group of clones tries to plead their case to the senate, ankin watches in on it, nala se mentions the chips in the kaminoan rebuttal of clone rights and Anakin FREAKS. palpatine tries to calm him saying 'they are to control them, they're dangerous otherwise' and basically dooms himself. also, Anakin specifically has wings. see, I subscribe to the thinking of 'Anakin can shapeshift due to his unstable DNA' Edit: I Found it! @thewildballyntynesgrow or mballyntyne on Ao3 with their series 'A Wild Thing to Tame'. Anakin leaves taking a majority of the coruscant guard with him and goes back to Tatooine and starts freeing a whole bunch of planets over the years. the meeting in the senate takes place when he is fourteen, the empire starts when he is seventeen. Anakin adopts Boba and Galen Marek. anakin and the freed outer rim either hide rebel bases or use their revolutions as distractions for the empire.

Retconned rebel Anakin Au. aka, Barriss is the same age as Anakin and befriends him and Ferus eventually befriends him, and Anakin is closer to those two and some others than Obi-wan and Ahsoka (who is Obi-wan's padawan) Barriss never bombs the temple, the empire rises but the original empire dies like a year into the reign and another emperor rises.... Emperor Obi-wan Kenobi and his daughter Ahsoka how are both overly attached to rebel leader Anakin Skywalker and are both trying to adopt him and turn him to their side... by kidnapping Anakin's family. (rexanidala). anakin adopts so many kids, most of them are force-sensitive and want to fight so he lets them reluctantly but those not young enough to choose or fight are sent to live with Rex, Padme, Luke, Leia, and their grandparents; Dooku and Plo.

Ventress and Anakin Swap au, sort of. anakin got nabbed from his mom by Dooku. Dooku never found Ventress, Obi-wan does instead. Obi does not train Ventress but they are friends forever after. ventress tries forcefully redeeming the seventeen-eighteen year old Sith lord and it only sort of works. he defects but really only after he finds out about the slavery in creating battle droids. Anakin isn't really a separatist general, he just has a specialized group of droids that he rebuilds after fights with Jedi. he never fights clones with droids.

after defecting Anakin plans with Ventress and decides to free the outer rim then take the former slaves that will join him and start up a third party to the war. inspired by 'blood oath' by the art of pleasing princes.

okay so for this next au, named Anakin Umakkar, The rain storm. sources are ADragonsFriend and @fialleril or fialleril on a03, and @clawedandcute or ClawedandCute (Adi_Fire) on a03. and songs this au is inspired by for this au is (and in order) Puppeteer, Done For, Hell is Forever, There are Other Ways, What Did I Miss? and Respectless.

Umakkar was a name I first read about in a book called 'Elder sisters' by ADragonsFriend. I first heard about Ekkreth in Fialleril's books. the concept of Anakin staying on Tatooine was inspired by ClawedandCute's book and au 'The Accidental Sith'

Anyway, Qui-gon and the queen's ship never stops on Tatooine, but the clone wars do not start early. a solid two months into the Clone Wars, it is revealed that Jabba the Hutt has been dead for a year, and Tatooine has freed itself from the huts. Senator Padme Amidala and Jedi Obi-wan Kenobi (and Padawan Ahsoka Tano) are sent to Tatooine to try to get Tatooine to align with the republic. now please listen to Puppeteer and Done For (no, Anakin does not turn any clones into pigs, just like any non-clone serving in the army ). once Obi-wan draws his lightsaber on Anakin, Anakin just swipes it away, unhurt, and has him and other... three (Cody, Padme, and Ahsoka)locked up until he decided to hear them out. (cue hell is forever, the last lines being, "the freed outer rim has found both the separatists and the republic to be the enemy" ya know due to their armies) then when it looks like Anakin is gonna do something to them to send a message to the republic, Obi-wan pleads with him and mentions the Sith Dooku mentioned and any evil smile on Anakin's face slips away into annoyance "Sidious, huh?" and in 'There are other ways' fashion tells obi-wan about Mortis and other wells in the force that might be better for the Jedi to focus at. when asked why he had that reaction to the 'Sidious' character, he implies that Sidious has reached out to him to join either side of the war, like once per side.

he sends Obi-Wan and the Clones that want to return on their way and a year later decides that enough is enough and heads to Coruscant under the pretense of negotiating. palpatine sets up a committee to welcome Tatooine to the republic only for 'respectless' to happen and Anakin starts arguing with Orn Free Taa, then Palpatine himself and once Palpatine leaves, turns to the Jedi in the room and says "yeah, you might want to look into that..." and leaves.

Detached Mortis god au: inspired by the ocean saga

switching up the timeline here, Rako Hardeen happens, the Wrong Jedi arc happens, *Then* mortis happens. Anakin is alone on Mortis, he decides to stay, Padme is pregnant, the empire rises, Padme survives and joins the rebellion, Ahsoka becomes Fulcrum. Obi-wan joins the rebellion to help train Luke and Leia. Luke, Leia, Han, Ezra and some others start on a mission, but it starts off rough. Ezra decides to pray to a Force Diety he or Ahsoka met once and the diety appears and decides to grant them safe passage to the actual start of the mission as long as they keep Ahsoka, who they meet up with later on the mission, safe. if they accept and fail, another god is going to have a really big problem with them. they accept and all goes well until the last day of the mission, everything falls apart and Ahsoka is separated from the group and captured. the gang decides they need to go back to base to think and plan. on their way back their ship is seemingly attacked but they cant tell by what, they crash land at base and get out of the ship, not the falcon, only to meet two dragon-like-creatures, and a portal opens and a very pissed Anakin steps out. he kidnaps a bunch of rebels and puts them in the world between worlds and tells them they only get their people back when Ahsoka is safe. Obi-Wan and Padme only make it to the hangar this goes down once Anakin has stepped back through the portal.

[arsenicandnewlace]

Sometimes i just let my mind drift. I'll listen to something and get my mind do its own thing in the backseat. Occasionally something will come of it, a revelation about a past event in a new light, a realization of a feeling i've had but couldn't name, or turning a relationship around and looking at it from a new light.

Lately, when i do this I come out of it with something about family. I just came back from visiting my half sister, a great visit, we had a great time. We connected for the first time (we've met in person maybe twice before.) And we talked, a lot. Exchanged family information, talked about health and sexuality (we're all bi and pan now! Dad would be furious 🩵🩵🩵), about similarities and differences. Talked about our dad and the family we technically share. I say technically because we are both about equally estranged from them at this point in my life.

Both of my paternal grandparents are dead. They died when i was 8 and 19 respectively. I wasnt upset by this for the longest time because I didnt really know them. I knew OF them, knew their names, knew they existed. John and Mildred. I knew the stories, that i was the first grandchild my grandfather ever held because my mom basically dropped me into his arms despite his protests, and after that he never wanted to put me or the other kids down.

But i didnt know how much of a power house my grandmother was. How she hated being called Mildred and only answered to Millie. How all the other grandkids called them Nanny and Papa; how I was the only one who called them Grandma and Grandpa. I never knew until recently, that my grandmother lamented not being closer to me.

I was a child and i didn't know better. They were nothing more than a concept to me, much like a majority of my family. It seemed normal to have grandparents that weren't involved in your life at all.

I let my mind drift and it wondered. If as a child, if I had just picked up the phone and called them. Before the fear took root in my core and the phone seemed like an enemy. If i didn't ask my parents (my father would have found an excuse, my mother would have been delighted but she would have hovered). If I had just called her, would we have kept calling? Every week, even for an hour? Even as the fear and anxiety and anger took root. Even as my father found excuse after excuse and left and blamed my mother and my sister and me. Would we have still talked until she couldn't?

I let my mind drift and it decides, what if you just called? (I was a child, i didn't know better, didnt know i could have just called, but thats not the point of this excersize. The point is the what if.) I called and Millie answers and we talk. I talk, back when I wasnt scared to yet. And we talk the next week. And the next. I talk about everything in my life, about the ways my dad mistreats us (and she asks to speak to him one day. He doesn't talk about what she said, but I heard her through the phone and she was not happy with her son). I talk about how little I see anyone else. I ask if she would visit. Maybe she would.

What brought this speculation to my conscious thought was a teary whispered question.

"Grandma, would you still call me if I wasn't a girl?"

And a long silence. My mind couldn't answer this because I didnt know. When I was still in single digits, i told my dad "I dont think i'm a girl. I don't think I'm a boy either." And he shut that down very quickly. He's always been like that. But i think one of the reasons he isolated us from the rest of his family is because he knew his mother would disapprove of his actions greatly. But i dont know if this would be one of them.

I hope it would be. But i'll never know now.

[francesminos-tt]

A CuriousCat prompt fill of Joffron being half brothers. Warning: might not be the half brother you are thinking of.

Imagine this.

You were named after your gay dad’s ex, who was killed by a drunk driver on his way to attend the wedding of your gay dad and your bisexual mom. You never had the chance to really know your gay dad because he died shortly after you were born. You had two older brothers, who loved you very much and you loved them back, but you learned that the three of you might not be the biological children of your gay dad on your fifth birthday. You was so shocked that you knocked off your birthday cake and cried yourself to sleep that night. Not that you wanted to be the biological child of your gay dad or anything, but at least they could choose another day to tell you (To be fair, it was brought up by Uncle Aegon).

Your mom remarried shortly afterwards, giving you a very cool stepdad and two beautiful stepsisters from your stepdad’s previous marriage. You liked Daemon, and somehow, he liked you too. He treated you like his own, even after your two little half-brothers were born. You looked after Aeg and Vis, pleased that you were no longer the baby in the family. Your life was getting better, despite the dramatics of the whole biological/moral/legal dad thing. You were even comfortable enough to joke about it in school, and no one dared to mess with you because they were all scared of Daemon.

All things considered, Joffrey Velaryon Targaryen’s life was going pretty well. He was a freshman of King’s Landing College on a football scholarship, majoring in Computer Science (yes, he was not all muscle and no brain gym bro, thank you very much). He had made some friends in class and in football training, and if he wanted to brag, he could say that he was selected as the hottest new face on campus this year (the voting pool was suspiciously all male).

Everything looked so promising to Joffrey until he opened the front door of his family house on an ordinary Sunday morning and was greeted by a well-groomed middle-aged man with braided silver hair and a big smile.

“Joffrey! My boy! How you have grown!” The man swept Joffrey into a bear hug, his cologne almost suffocating the boy.

“Give him a break,” Rhaenyra rushed to save her son and tried to hide Joffrey’s tall figure behind her, “you are scaring him.”

“Mom?” Joffrey looked to his mother in confusion, his baseball cap knocked askew by the man’s powerful hug, “Who’s this? Your ex? Does he want money?”

“Joff, dear, listen.” Rhaenyra looked embarrassed, which was more than enough for Joffrey to worry, “No matter what I am about to say, know that I love you, okay?”

“You are scaring me, mom.” Joffrey said honestly.

“Well, this man is my ex…” Rhaenyra paused, taking a sharp inhale before revealing the shocking news, “husband. He’s your legal dad, Laenor Velaryon.”

“What?”

“That’s right, son.” Laenor tried to swing an arm over Joffrey’s shoulder, but the boy was too tall for him to do it, “Sorry for going awol for so long.”

“But you are supposed to be dead!” Joffrey said in disbelief, “Mom told me that you were drowned when surfing!”

“Really, Nyra? Drowned when surfing?” Now was Laenor’s turn to look surprised, “Me? An Olympic level surfer?”

“What else am I supposed to tell him, Laenor? That you fucked off to Essos with your lover?”

“Hey, it was a mutual agreement. I leave, and you can marry Daemon.”

“Well, yes, but at least you could come up with your own excuse.” Rhaenyra rolled her eyes. They were bickering like a pair of old ladies who had known each other for life.

“Mom, care to explain?” Joffrey turned to Rhaenyra with a raised eyebrow, “Please don’t tell me my whole life is a lie.”

It turned out far worse than that. Joffrey, who had believed he was the son of Laenor and Rhaenyra until he was five, and then was told that in fact he was not Laenor’s son. He had believed for his whole 19 years of life that though he had never met his biological father, he had a mother who loved him very much, but this belief proved wrong today when he was revealed another shocking news about his parents.

“So you are saying, I am actually the child of dad and Mr. Harwin? Like, I am the genetic offspring of two men and you are just my surrogate mother?” Joffrey summed up the 30-minute speech he had just been told with a tone so calm that it worried Rhaenyra.

“I carried you in my body for 10 months, Joff. You are every bit of my son as well as theirs.” Rhaenyra made the boy sit down and cradled his head, “Nothing has changed, okay? If you don’t want to see your dad, I can kick him out right away. I will make sure he never shows up in front of you again if you so wish.”

The thing was, Joffrey didn't know what to wish. He always envied Jace and Luke, because not only did they remember Laenor, they had also spent several summer holidays with Mr. Harwin, who was supposed to their biological father, while Joffrey knew no father except Daemon. He had made peace with that, but the shocking news just made his will dissolve like bubbles in the sun.

“Why is he here?” Joffrey asked Rhaenyra as if he were a grumpy little boy who was determined not to look at Laenor.

“Son, I am sorry that I have been away, but trust me, it was the best way we could come up with at the time. The marriage between me and your mother was never a happy one, and you will be far better off having Daemon as a father figure than me.” Laenor spoke; he actually sounded wise this time, “I am not here to destroy your life. Consider me an addition. You can have another adult to talk to or rant at whenever you want. Hey, guess what? I can be your cool uncle, or dad, or pops, or anything else you want to call me.”

“He has some business to discuss here.” Rhaenyra told him gently, “Don't worry. He won’t stay with us. He’s just been bugging me about when he can see you, so I let him visit for a bit.”

“I would get a huge inheritance, a large seaside house and a hot half-sibling if it were a romcom movie.” Joffrey murmured, still burying his face in his mother’s bosom, but he didn't sound too distressed. He had seen enough drama in this house to be distressed by this anyway.

“Well, about that…”

————————————————————————

It turned out, Joffrey’s life was not a romcom. It was a twisted soap drama with too many coincidences to justify shit writing. For example, he learned that the business Laenor had in King’s Landing was actually getting official custody of his other mysterious son who he had left at a sept.

“You left your son at a sept? What kind of fucked up father are you?” Joffrey was so furious that he could punch Laenor’s handsome face with his bare fist.

“I had no choice! Joffrey threatened to break up with me! Not you, dear, Joffrey Lonmouth.” Laenor lifted both his hands as a surrender, “And the child’s mother didn't want him. It was a teenager mistake. I made sure to leave enough money for him!”

“He’s still going to foster care no matter how much money you left in his cradle.” Joffrey said coldly, “You can at least be a man and look after him yourself. Perhaps you and mom wouldn't even have to marry if you already had a son.”

“I know, I am a dick.” Laenor sighed, pinching his own nose bridge, “I contacted the sept where I left him, and found out that he was adopted for a while but his adopting family hasn’t really been taking care of him, so I decided to step up and be a man this time. That’s why I am here.”

“A bit too late for that.” Joffrey commented.

“I know.” Laenor replied, “I don't need redemption, but I want to make amends. I want to make amends with you too, Joffrey. I am so sorry that I have been absent all your life.”

“It sounds like your other son needs you more than me. You should start with him.” Joffrey said.

Laenor looked disappointed, because Joffrey’s words seemed like a rejection. However, as the boy‘s mother, Rhaenyra could tell that Joffrey had already forgiven Laenor. He was just too proud and stubborn to admit it.

Laenor promised that he would keep Joffrey updated with the legal process, and he did. Rhaenyra helped him find a lawyer and even attended the hearing as a character witness. The process went smoothly, and Laenor finally got full custody with the son he barely knew. Joffrey was happy for him, really, but his happiness was ruined when Laenor brought this boy to the Rhaenyra’s house to officially introduce him to the family.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Joffrey murmured to himself. It was supposed to be a whisper, but the room was so quiet that everyone heard him loud and clearly, including Aeg and Vis.

“Language, Joff!” Rhaenyra warned him, while Daemon just let out a sharp laugh.

“It’s okay, mom. We are not kids anymore, right, Aeg?” Viserys, who just celebrated his 14th birthday, winked at his 16 year-old brother.

Aegon just shrugged, too busy fiddling with his phone.

Joffrey didn't hear his mother’s warning at all. He just kept staring at this newcomer, a tall and handsome young man roughly Jace’s age, with well-groomed silver curls and a pair of light violet eyes. He wore a knit vest over a shirt, paired with jeans, casual but not too casual, relaxed but not too slack, a perfect balance between youthful and proper. He was relatively toned, if the veins on his forearm was any indication, yet he looked bookish at the same time with a pair of glasses on his nose. Just Joffrey’s type.

“You look familiar,” Lucerys commented after a while, “hey, Joff, is this the guy you disappeared with at the party?”

Joffrey tried to cover Lucerys’s mouth, but it was too late. The cat had already been out of the box.

“Disappear with?” Jace asked.

“Party?” Rhaenyra mirrored her eldest son’s frown.

Daemon laughed harder.

Joffrey didn't know what got him at this moment, but his first reaction was to jump up from his chair and took a hold of the guy’s collar, dragging him upstairs to his room and shutting the door with a loud bang.

“What the fuck?!” Joffrey shoved the guy against the wall, his fist inches away from the guy’s handsome face.

“Hello to you too.” The guy had the audacity to smile, “I wasn’t expecting such a warm welcome, Joffrey.”

“You fucking knew!” Joffrey was about to punch the guy but his fist was stopped by a large and calloused palm, and the next thing he knew, their position was reserved. Now Joffrey was the one being pinned against the wall.

“You seem to only know how to say fuck today.” The guy said, tilting Joffrey’s chin up, “Are you this eager, baby? Is that why you dragged me to your room?”

“Cut the crap, Daeron.” Joffrey spat, “We’ve been fucking for what, months now? And you have never, not even once, mentioned you are my gay dad’s accidental child. How dare you!”

Daeron chuckled, one hand on Joffrey’s chin and the other roaming down the boy’s torso.

“What difference will it make?” Daeron said with a flat tone, “I never lied to you. I told you that I was brought up in a church, and adopted by a religious family before they decided to send me away to Old Town. I never felt I belonged there. I ran away as soon as I turned 18, and have been working at the bar we met ever since.”

“I thought it was your lame pickup line.” Joffrey admitted before he could stop himself.

“And who believed my lame pickup line?” Daeron couldn’t help but lean in to kiss away the small pout on Joffrey’s lips, “You are so spoiled, Joffrey. You never know what it feels like when life deals you a shitty hand.”

“Fuck you.” Joffrey tried to bite Daeron’s tongue, but the damn blonde was so quick that he failed to catch it on time, “You don't know me at all.”

“Oh, but I do know you, little brother.” Daeron licked his lips like predator in front of a prey, “I know you so well that I want to destroy you. How come you have a loving mother, a wealthy stepdad, siblings who care about you, a biological dad who wants to beg for your forgiveness, a full scholarship, a nice life and everything, while I have been neglected my whole life?”

Joffrey had no words to say to that. He realized that he was indeed lucky, when Daeron put it like that, but he didn't take anything from anyone to achieve this. He could not be punished for being lucky.

“Joffrey? Is everything all right?” Rhaenyra’s voice came through the door with a soft knock, “Don’t do anything stupid, okay? We can work this out.”

“Listen to her. We can work this out, can't we, little brother?” Daeron chuckled as his hand came down to Joffrey’s groin, “I’ve heard that siblings tend to be attracted to each other. I guess that’s why we are so compatible in bed, aren’t we?”

Joffrey hadn't realized until this moment that he had been fucking his half-brother for months now.

Fuck, he was so screwed.

[bodrewritten]

Daughter of Discord Rewritten Chapter 19: Contact Sport

Cw: child abuse, very brief

"I never wanted any part of Mother's plan," Mothball explained. "Not after I met you."

He and Screwball were sitting at Zecora's table, eating soup with one hoof and holding hooves with the other. Well, Screwball was the only one eating anyway, since Mothball was not accustomed to solid food.

"But what was I supposed to do?" he continued. "I was young, I had nowhere else to go. The hive is the only home I've ever known. The changelings never really felt like family, but..."

"I get it," Screwball said, giving his hoof a gentle squeeze. "No matter how crazy they are, you can't pick family." She hung her head. "And sometimes, you'd do anything to please them."

"but the family I made is so much kinder to me...Part of what my mother told you is true, though. I was supposed to feed off your love, but...I couldn't bear to hurt you. Eventually, I kept away from you altogether."

"It's funny. You keep saying that the more time I spend with you, the weaker I get, but the thing is..." She put down her spoon and scooted closer to him. "When I'm with you, I feel...stronger."

"You do feel stronger. I still don't understand how that's possible."

"Perhaps I can explain," Zecora volunteered, "why she feels no pain. I spoke to you of balancing your traits. There is more to what the candle dictates. You gain power from Screwball's love, it's true, but from your love, she gains power too. What you give replaces what you take. 'Tis such a rare magic that you two make."

"So what you're saying is," Mothball attempted to clarify, "that instead of me taking away her power, we're...sharing our own?"

The zebra nodded.

"It makes sense," Screwball declared. "Love is the most powerful form of chaos there is." She smirked. "But I thought you didn't have a heart, you big softie."

"So did I," the prince said. "But Zecora told me something interesting. If I were heartless like my mother, I would have left you for dead." He gazed into her eyes. "But I didn't."

Screwball smiled and nuzzled her head into his chest. "I'm sorry I doubted you."

He grinned nervously. "Well, you had reason."

She studies his face for a moment, taking in all the intricacies. The way she cannot see the muscles moving under his skin from under the exoskeleton he bears. The way he has a beak-like mouth with pincers instead of teeth...

"can you open your mouth real wide for me? Really quick?"

He complied and she looked down his throat. She illuminated the way just a bit...

"you have teeth in your throat! Why do you need those if you only eat love?"

"pharyngeal teeth, lots of aquatic animals like turtles have them. I've always wondered about that, nopony would tell me why."

She slowly pulled away and looked at him seriously. "What else do you know about Chrysalis' plan?"

He turned his head away in shame as he explained everything to her.

"...and zany?"

"He's alive, as far as I know. He's being held in the hive's nursery. Changelings find babies to be..." he winced, "a bountiful food source, because in their innocent age, they have no morals. They attached to anypony. I would have rescued him, but I was banished from the hive. "

Screwball's eyes were wild with worry. "Why is she doing this?"

"She wants revenge on your father. What for, I'm not sure, but this was all so she could get him back into stone. With him out of the way, and his power transferred to Chrysalis, the changelings would be free to take over Equestria!"

As He spoke, a frog crossed with a teapot hopped onto the windowsill. Its lid opened as it croaked.

"I think your dad's alive," Mothball observed.

"But we might not have much time!" Screwball exclaimed. "We have to warn him! We have to save Zany! We need to explain things to..."

"No," Zecora said. "You have not fully recovered, and you cannot risk being discovered."

"But if I wait too long, it'll be too late!"

"Your father is crafty, clever and cunning. He will sense the ponies coming. It will take time for them to hunt him down. I suggest you rest till morning comes round."

"But..."

She trailed off as Mothball laid a hoof on her shoulder. "She's right. You need your strength if you want to go up against my mother." He hung his head. "I wouldn't recommend it though. My mother is clever too, not to mention she has a whole army on her side."

"Yes," Screwball said with a sigh. "I'm sorry, my mind is so jumbled right now!"

"You should get some sleep."

"Yeah. Zecora, do you have a sleeping bag or something?"

"You are welcome to sleep in my bed," the zebra offered. "I will find a place to rest my head."

"But where can I...?" Mothball started to ask.

He trailed off as Zecora winked at him. He was silent as she gathered the empty teacups and disappeared behind a curtain. Screwball and Mothball simultaneously glanced at the bed and then at each other with a blush.

"I don't really want to do anything."

"Neither do I..."

"I suppose there will be no harm in..." Screwball stammered, "snuggling?"

In a few minutes, they were lying under the covers, tight in each other's embrace, their hooves entwining. Mothball finally let himself kiss her forehead. She smiled, finally feeling him willingly give himself little steps to love.

She sighed again and gazed up at the ceiling. He looked in the same direction and for a while, neither of them said anything.

"Did you know?" Screwball asked abruptly.

Mothball raised an eyebrow at her. "Did I know what?"

She locked eyes with him. "Did you know how I felt about you?

He looked away shamefully. "I can sense emotion a mile away. I've always known."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I thought I couldn't return your feelings. And...I didn't want you to think I was just staying with you so I could feed."

Screwball could understand that, considering how she had treated him earlier.

"Also...I never properly thanked you for saving my life."

That made her feel even more guilty.

"That's okay," Mothball said with a shrug. "I never thanked you."

"For what?"

"For saving me...from my myself?" He winced. "Okay, that was cheesy."

Screwball laughed. "Cheesy's how we do it in pomyville."

She took his hoof and snuggled against him again. He smiled and stroked her mane.

"What I mean is...would have been just like chrysalis if I had not met you. Not only that, but you showed me what it's like to have fun, to be crazy, to be...well, a kid."

"When we first met, you were so different that I found you interesting. I knew you weren't as bad as Daddy said, because you tried to save me from that manticore. I...I can't really explain it, but...I just feel so...complete with you."

Screwball sighed contentedly as he wrapped his hooves around her.

"I feel the same way."

She was so happy that she finally had her prince, but her heart sank at the thought of her family.

"I have to make things right," she whispered. "She was stopped before at Cadence and Shining Armor's wedding."

"Huh?"

Screwball raised an eyebrow. "You mean your mother never told you about that?"

"If she was defeated, I don't think she would have."

"Well, basically, what happened is that Princess Cadence and Shining Armor cast a spell that banished the changelings from Equestria. But they're all the way in the Crystal Empire now! By the time they hear about Chrysalis, it'll be too late!"

"What kind of spell did they cast?"

"I...I don't remember. My mom told me a long time ago, right after I met you, but I don't remember. I just know they cast it together and not even Chrysalis could fight it."

"We'll worry about it in the morning. For now, let's get some sleep."

As they held each other, Mothball could feel her love transfer to his body, but he could also feel his love going to her in return.

"how did you end up here? You already know Zecora?"

"she saved me. When I was... Cast out, she took me in because I nearly died."

Screwball shuddered and held him closer. Gosh, she was so cold, so afraid of death.

He had to clean up the mess he had caused, and he knew exactly how.

When Screwball awoke, she was alone. Her hoof went to the empty space beside her.

"Mothball?"

She stepped out of bed and looked around the hut. Her eyes fell upon a note on the table:

Stepped out for a moment, will be back before evening. MB

A few minutes after Screwball had read the letter, Zecora returned with a plate of fufu and soup. "Your father turned the waterfall red, in place of dye he used paprika instead."

"Typical."

The two waited hours for Mothball to return, untill Screwball grew impatient.

"Where could he possibly be?" she demanded, slamming her hoof on the table.

"Hush, my dear," Zecora said sternly. "You must have patience. It's not like we've been waiting for ages."

"But what is he doing?! Can't you look in your magic brew or something?"

The zebra rubbed her chin. "I will see what I can do. Hand me that mirror, would you?"

"His twenty-four hours are up," said the voice of Princess Twilight. "I'm sorry it had to come to this, Fluttershy."

"No!" cried Fluttershy's voice. "Just a little more time! Please!"

"You could try to reason with him once more, but it must be done. Come on, girls. Let's find Discord."

As the image disintegrated, Screwball felt a wave of panic.

The filly rushed to the door.

"Where are you going?" Zecora demanded.

"I have to warn him! Or, if I find Mom first, I'll explain things to her! I have to fix this! When Mothball gets back, tell him where I've gone!"

The zebra was about to protest further when Screwball slammed the door.

Mothball hid behind a dead tree so the changelings guarding the entrance to the hive would not see him. For a second, he considered turning back. Suppose he were caught, or worse, if his mother caught him! She would do worse than ground him! She would blast him to dust!

The prince closed his eyes and took the form of a nurse changeling. "I hope my smell doesn't throw them off," he muttered to himself.

The guards did not appear to be suspicious, which was a great relief to Mothball, but the most difficult part of the task was yet to come. He took the passage to the lower level of the hive where the nursery was. He immediately caught sight of the gray foal lying in a cocoon shaped like a cradle.

The night before

Within the arms of discord, a baby lay, seemingly bountiful with energy, never letting up his excitement. At the same time, A changeling drone was on the front lines, deceitful in every sense.

Mantis and his legion reconvened with Queen Chrysalis and marched forth back to ponyville, where the queen would return to her post as the baby zany. As the others walked along, Chrysalis turned to Mantis.

"My son," Chrysalis called to him. Mantis trotted over to her, head low and respectful.

She commanded the others to fly forth, and swiped her hoof across his face, throwing him off his balance. He clutched his face and bowed to her immediately.

"My apologies mother, I meant not to disappoint-"

"That maggot is going to ruin all of our plans and it's your duty to exterminate him. You could not do it once, and unless I'm to assume you're no different from him, you will not disappoint me again."

The fear on his face wrapped around the stinging pain.

"Never, mother. Never again. I promise."

[sinner-sunflower]

P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 8/?

STORY 1, PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 14.5, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22, PART 23, PART 24, PART 25, PART 26

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

When Keekee suddenly showed up at the hotel without her dad, Charlie had a slight moment of panic. Thoughts of 'oh my god, did they kill him?', 'is he locked up in Heaven???', 'I knew I or someone should've went with him', and 'please don't be dead dad!' went through her head.

Thankfully the cat familiar took pity on her and relayed her master's message and whereabouts. It didn't really stop Charlie from worrying but it eased her just a little bit to know that her dad is safe back home.

Charlie: I should go to him, right? To make sure he's really fine?

Angel: Toots, I think short king just needs a little time to himself. Just cos he said you can go doesn't really mean you have to go now.

Vaggie: I hate to say it but I think Angel is kinda right, surprisingly.

Angel: Oh fuck ya! I can give sound advices too, yaknow.

A chuckle from Cherri Bomb is what started a whole roasting session that they will surely laugh about later.

Cherri Bomb: Pfft, sure.

Angel: I do!

Husk can't help but join in on the teasing too.

Husk: Angel, just give up. You're gonna give that Fizzarolli guy a run for his money telling those jokes.

Angel: Gasp! Huskie, you too?! Betrayed by my own boyfriend.

Husk: I'm not your boyfriend!

The blush on the bartender's face could rival Alastor's outfit's shade of red. It became redder when Nifty let out a sinister-like gremlin laugh that no one in the hotel would like to hear if they can help it.

Nifty: Hehehehe. Not yet~

Angel: Husk, baby, have you been talking to others about your feelings fo' wittle old meeee?

Husk: No!

They continue to bicker and Charlie can't help but look at them with adoration. All of them have come so far and she can confidently say that they have evolved into somewhat of a family unit. A bit dysfunctional but she won't have it any other way.

Vaggie: Why don't you let the man sleep for a bit.

Charlie: I just worry, Vaggie..

The soft look her girlfriend gave her would've melted Charlie into a lovesick puddle if she wasn't so preoccupied with her dad.

Vaggie: I know, babe.

Alastor: I do have to agree with them, dear.

The ex-exorcist yelped in surprise at Alastor's sudden presence beside them while Charlie had grown accustomed to the man's nasty habit of sneaking up on people. Maybe she should invest a bell for him. Hmm... She wonders if her dad can make Al wear one.

Vaggie: Jesus, Alastor!

Charlie: You too, Al?

Alastor: Why don't you join us for a meal first, hm? That should give your father enough time to rest. I seem to remember that it was your turn to set the table, isn't that right, Vagatha?

Vaggie grumbles something in Spanish that Charlie is sure is a curse word but doesn't argue anymore.

Vaggie: Everyone, dining hall. Now!

And just like that, everyone stopped talking and went straight to the kitchen, leaving just Keekee, Charlie, and Alastor in the lobby.

Charlie absentmindedly pets Keekee who climbed up in her arms while looking at her family fondly. She takes notice of Alastor next to her sporting the same look as hers.

She's glad that he's opening up bit by bit. She wonders if her dad had anything to do with that or if Alastor just learned to trust on his own.

Speaking of Al and her dad. That's a can of worms that she was, at first, afraid to open. She's happy for her dad, don't get her wrong, but there's still days where she misses her mom. Sometimes, if she's in a really bad place, she imagines her mom coming back and all three of them living happily ever after again.

With Alastor in the picture, she became a bit afraid. Of being replaced as the most important person in her dad's life or how her once dream happily ever after will never be reality, she doesn't know.

But seeing Alastor's genuinely care for her dad; never leaving his bedside after the Roo debacle, leaving Marigold's everywhere (how romantic is that, Vaggie!), and providing solace for her dad that she knows she can't always give. Those actions told her that maybe despite not getting her original happy ever after with her mom and dad, she can always dream of a new one.

There's something different about Alastor right now, though. He looks more stiff than usual but sagging at the same time. It could be also be worry but Charlie thinks she knows Alastor enough to tell that he's irritated. And he's definitely leaning into his cane more.

Alastor, probably feeling her stare, sighs.

Alastor: What is it, my dear?

Charlie at least had the decency to be flustered for staring.

Charlie: Sorry, Al. But um... are you okay?

Alastor: Whatever do you mean?

Charlie: It's just- you look, I don't know, irritated? Or like annoyed? I know I sound hypocritical but dad's gonna be alright.

Alastor: I appreciate the sentiment, Charlie, but I have full faith in your father. He is not the source of my... mood. Not directly, anyway.

He accidentally said the last part instead of just thinking about it but thankfully it was quiet enough that Charlie didn't caught it.

His answer just made Charlie more confused. Tilting her head, she looks at the radio demon quizzically.

Charlie: So you are in a mood?

Alastor: Nothing for you to be worried about, my dear! It might just be my cravings.

Charlie: For... human flesh?

He gives her one of his more sinister grins, the one she's seen when he's hungry for blood (and not the cannibal kind). He's just being silly, she thinks to herself. She made a note to ask her dad about partner choices later.

Alastor: Fried fish.

And with that, Alastor disappears into the kitchen. Keekee purrs in Charlie's hold as her eyes trail the retreating shadow.

Charlie: What a creepy guy, huh.

Her pet only meows in response.

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

This wasn't how this chapter was supposed to end but I decided to cut it in half anyway.

Tomorrow is some meal moments and Charlie going to see her dad.

Don't worry, we'll get back to Luci in a bit!