#just a little short i thought up after seeing his death scene again

[ronwestbreeze]

neteyam’s twin sister is the twin that came second but carried equal responsiblity.

neteyam’s twin sister is alot more outgoing and charming compared to the quiet and more reserved half of her.

neteyam’s twin sister is a mama’s girl. always wearing her emotions on her sleeve, always so expressive. she was the sylwanin and the tom out of the twins.

neteyam’s twin sister is his best friend. his other half. spiritually bonded for life the two of them. while different they somehow mesh as well as an oiled machine. she is the one person he could go to, the one person he could express himself freely without having to be a warrior first. or the older brother first. with her he is just a child, like her.

neteyam’s twin sister is jake sully’s first baby girl and that was never going to change. his little princess that reminded him so much of tom and him at the same time. the good parts of him, that is. and there was a certain innocence to her. one that af ather should protect with his last breath.

neteyam’s twin sister sometimes came at odds with lo’ak. the two had very hard headed and stubborn personalities. so much so, they would always clash and fight as siblings do. kiri would often be in the middle of it, calling them both immature. their fights wouldn’t last long, not with neteyam interfering and making them apologize to each other. neteyam was always the one to get her to listen. only him.

neteyam’s twin sister always had little tuk following her around and copying everything she did. she is her role model after all, tuk couldn’t help but look up to her and kiri.

neteyam’s twin sister doesn’t like the amount of responsiblity he puts on himself. always offers to share the burder as they technically already shared the title of older siblings. but neteyam always refused her, always reminded her that their paths were meant to be different and that she didn’t have to follow him everywhere. she was free to be her own person.

neteyam’s twin sister doesn’t like when their father cracks down on both neteyam and lo’ak. the sky people have made their return and everything had become so tense. neteyam is constantly training, lo’ak wants to be like their father. she keeps offering to help her twin brother, keeps telling him to stop taking on so much responsibility but neteyam just smiles and assures her things are going to be okay while their grandmother bandages his recent wounds.

neteyam’s twin sister cries and cries and cries when they are forced to go into exile from their home. their shared grief brought them closer again, after a year of feeling like they were too far away from each other.

neteyam’s twin sister isn’t fitting in well with the metkayina clan. she’s not used to their world and feels out of place, out of her element. neteyam and her are back to being inseparable, navigating this whole new world together.

neteyam’s twin sister starts getting along better with lo’ak because they both shared their insecurities about being outsiders. neteyam is glad.

neteyam’s twin sister feels helpless every time neteyam and lo’ak are yelled at by their parents. but she sticks up for them the best she can, even if her parents discourage the behavior. and whenever she does, jake and neytiri always wore looks of disappointment. as if they expected better.

out of bitterness, neteyam’s twin sister is called “the perfect princess” by lo’ak and she utterly despises it and gets into another fight with him, this time neteyam nowhere in sight to break them up.

in the end their fight didn’t matter…

neteyam’s twin sister is scared to death when her stubborn yet sweet younger brother goes to save payakan. she doesn’t hesitate to go along with her twin, tsireya, and the others to help him save his new friend.

neteyam’s twin sister doesn’t hesitate to save her little sister and brother from the sky people. nor does she hesitate to go with tuk to try and save kiri. it didn’t matter if she ended up captured with the two of them. as long as the two were protected by her, then it was okay…..

neteyam’s twin sister feels a sudden hole in her chest. she doesn’t know where this feeling had come from but she dreads it. as if something was wrong. as if something bad had happened….

neteyam’s twin sister feels her heart sink when quaritch mentions loosing one of his boys. she wonders right then which brother she lost. she wonders if this hole in her chest had already given her an answer…

neteyam’s twin sister reunites with her family on stray debris, allowing them to pull her in to a tight hug. but she doesn’t bother to respond to any of it.

you don’t bother to respond to your father’s cautious yet gentle calls of your name. you don’t bother to acknowledge your mother’s tears as she cups your cheeks.

you’ve….

you’ve lost him.

you find your twin lying still on the piece of rock, right where your family had left him to come and save you.

you never could imagine loosing your twin. nor the pain that came with it. the silence that settled around you. the emptiness of it.

lo’ak’s older sister falls to her knees.

and cries.

and cries.

and cries.

and cries.

he had never seen her cry. not like this.

lo’ak’s older sister is quiet as stone when she watches her twin lay with eywa. leaving her behind for good.

[tsireyasluvr]

Sweetness

Lo’ak x Metkayina!reader

Authors note: I meant to make this short and sweet but got way carried away😭 hope you guys enjoy this tho! <3 word count: 4k+

Summary: Neteyams death inevitably changed Lo’ak, making him colder and harsher around you than ever before. He shut everyone around him out, but you being the sweet and soft girl of the village made you want to help him get out of his slump. And you did help, just not in the way you might’ve expected.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, porn with plot, angst, comfort, mentions of death, mentions of blood, substance use, alcohol, aged up Lo’ak, dom Lo’ak, mean Lo’ak, innocent reader, praises, brief oral, fingering, drunk sex, grinding, whining, virgin reader, first time (p in v)

Lo’ak struggled with Neteyams death, that couldn’t be more clear to anyone. The entire Sully family had faced their struggles surrounding the older boy’s death, but they had slowly made peace with it. Lo’ak however, wasn’t even close.

He never got over the feeling of it being his fault. He’s the one who pushed Neteyam to save Spider, the one who couldn’t just let things sit and chase after his own family instead. He wanted to save his friend, and in return, he got his brother killed. Lo’ak felt like even more of a failure than before, like he deserved to be treated like an outcast after having his beloved older brother killed.

He’s chosen to ignore his family and friends, ditching his siblings to get drunk and wallow in his sorrows at whatever private place he could find. Really he wasn’t picky, just as long as people would stop bothering him already. He was sick of the looks he’d get from his own family, the bits of pity accompanied by disgust from the rest of the Metkayina clan. 

Never you though. You cared for him, and truth be told you had a bit of a reputation around the clan for being the soft and kind, almost “innocent” cousin of Tsireya and Ao’nung. You were opposite to Lo’ak, never really one to step out of line or do anything that might anger the elders. you didn’t see much of a reason to. You’ve always had a soft spot for the younger Sully boy, mesmerized by how quick he adapted to the way of water, how much effort he put in despite his body not being built for it. He was passionate, rebellious by nature sure, but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t found it charming. And as his learning went on, you enjoyed occasionally helping to teach him and his siblings, especially when you got to have a few private sessions with him. You were building a friendship, maybe even a small crush arising within you. All right before the tragic death on those rocks. 

You’d see Lo’ak wandering around the village at times, but only really to get his hands on food and whatever alcohol he could get, before he’d disappear again. Into the palm trees, to a separated beach, maybe a clearing near a cave. Those were just a few of your guesses. 

It bothered you. He was once a fiery, determined ball of energy, never taking anyone’s shit and trusting himself to do what felt right. Yet now, he was always alone and hiding. You couldn’t help but frown and worry. So one night, you see him again, walking through the sand in the general direction of what you assumed was the cove, a bottle clearly in hand. Feeling a little brave, you decided to follow him. 

Lo’ak had sat down on a smooth stone ledge overlooking the water. The sun had already set, making your tanhi glow along your soft skin while the moon lit up the scene around you. You timidly walked over to him, sitting down beside him but a little further from the edge with your legs crossed. Neteyam and Lo’ak were the only ones you’ve ever told about your fear of heights. It was something you always thought was a little embarrassing, and they forced the confession out of you when you refused to join them on a ride on Neteyams ikran. You can’t help but feel a little guilty passing that up now. 

Lo’aks gaze was cold, his face showing little emotion while he started out into the water. His eyes had been bloodshot, from the alcohol or lack of sleep you didn’t know, but it was a sight that made your stomach churn either way. You glanced down to his lap, seeing the now half-empty bottle sat between his legs. 

His thoughts were looming over his head, the alcohol doing little to settle the pit in his stomach. That night was all he could ever think about. The pained scream of his mother, the hurtful “you’ve done enough” his father had muttered, feeling Neteyams heart stop beating underneath his palms, his hands wet with his brothers blood-

“Lo’ak?” Your quiet, velvety soft voice broke the silence. You looked up at him with your big green eyes, your lip permanently a little pouty as the cold breeze blew through your curly hair. “Hm?” He grunted, not really looking in your directed as he took another swig from the bottle. You swallowed thickly, before asking your question. 

“Can I stay for a little?” Your voice sounds almost nervous, like he’d snap or bite at you if you pissed him off. He couldn’t help but feel frustrated at this, taking a deep breath to settle his emotions. He turned to look at you, his vivid amber eyes faded into something more dull. “Actually, y/n, I kind of came here to be alone.” 

You huffed out a breath, trying not to let the rejection get to you once he turns away again. Instead, you sit a little closer, letting your feet dangle off the edge as your heart starts racing in your chest. He cocked a brow at this, surprised that the village good girl didn’t listen for once. That, and the fact that he knew how scared you were of heights. Wether he’d want to admit it or not, Lo’ak had always noticed you tried to make everything better, even when it seemed impossible.

“People are worried, you know” You say quietly, your voice less shaky now that you managed to calm your heartbeat, trying to focus on him and the sound of the waves rather than how high you were up on these cliffs. “I don’t care, y/n” He scoffed, sipping on the bottle again, hardly feeling the liquid burn his throat anymore. 

You furrowed your brows at that, looking at the side of his face again as you spoke. “I know that’s not true, Lo’ak. You’ve never been careless. I understand you’re hurting, you have every right to, but-“ 

He cut you off with a scowl, turning his head towards you “Oh, do i? Because according to my father, I’m the one who got us all into this mess. You say everyone is worried, but who exactly is everyone, y/n? Because it sure as hell isn’t my family, and your clan has hated me from the fucking start.” He practically snarled, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at you.

You looked at him helplessly, feeling yet another tinge of anxiety from his yelling, but knowing deep down it wasn’t meant to be directed at you. Lo’ak stood from his spot, rubbing his face with his hand, and that’s when you smell the wave of alcohol coming from his form. 

“Just.. just go away, y/n. I really don’t need this right now” He leaned against the cliff wall, his arms crossing in front of his chest as he waited for you to get up and go. 

You stood, trying to fight back the tears welling in your eyes. Truth be told, you weren’t really used to having anyone yell at you. You’ve never stepped out of line or disobeyed orders, no one’s ever had a reason to try and punish or intimidate you. You wondered if it may have you come across as weak, or fragile. Two things that you very much were not, regardless of how soft you may be. 

“Lo’ak, please” You say, trying to stand your ground. “Please just let me stay. I won’t- I won’t try to force you to talk about it anymore, I promise. I’m just worried about you” You pleaded, the breeze becoming more harsh as you felt shivers go up your arms.

He clenched his jaw, something inside him stopping himself from believing that you had good intentions. “why?” He uncrossed his arms, scoffing as he stood up straight in front of you. “Why are you so fucking worried, y/n?” His voice sounded almost taunting, and you couldn’t figure out why.

“Because you’re never around the village anymore. You’re grieving, and I think-“ He cut you off once again.

“What? That you can fix me? Take me on a special project for your healer training maybe? You realize some herbs and spices can’t make this all go away, right? Sorry I can’t help you crawl further up Ronals ass with your little strive for perfection, y/n, but it just so looks like I’m a problem this clan can’t shake” He growls, every word feeling almost like a dagger to your heart. 

“You’re not a problem, Lo’ak” You say gently, trying to keep the calm attitude for him. “I don’t see you as one, I never have. I see so much greatness in you-“ 

“Save the fucking speech, y/n-“

“Will you just let me talk!” 

“…”

You had snapped, tears freely falling down your cheeks now. “Stop treating me like I don’t have feelings! Or like- like you don’t know me! We were friends before all this, you know how much I cared for you, how much i still care for you. It doesn’t matter if every single person in this clan hated you, I care and I worry! And it sucks to see you like this, constant bottle in your hand and the energy and joy completely sucked out of you. It sucks that you walk by me like I don’t matter, that you never talk to me anymore and that you’re always on something. I can’t handle it, and it breaks my heart, so excuse me if I come here to check on you because Im worried!”  

He swallowed hard, taking aback by your outburst but trying not to show it. He felt the guilt slowly creep up his skin, watching your shoulders shake with sobs as you let out a much quieter “I worry”, repeating yourself so helplessly. Lo’aks eyes flicked away for a moment before returning to yours. “You shouldn’t” He muttered out, his voice rough as he reached out a hand to wipe the tears from your cheeks.

“I can’t help it” You whisper, sniffling as your lip quivered, your eyes now glossy as you looked up at him. His hand on your cheek made you feel the tiniest spark of comfort. He smiled a little at that, the first almost warm expression you’ve seen on his face in weeks if not months. “Hm, I guess you can’t.”

Lo’ak cupped your face with his free hand, the other still holding the bottle you so desperately wanted to grab and throw over the cliff. He brushed his thumb softly against your cheek, looking into your teary eyes as his heart beat faster. “If you keep getting involved with me like this, you’re going to get hurt, y/n. I think I might have a bit of curse on me” He tried to joke, but you saw past the slight smile.

“Then we’ll let that be my lesson” you say sternly, reaching a delicate hand to hold onto his wrist as you stayed close to him. “Alright, fine. You win, princess” He sighed, before letting go of you and moving back down to where he was sitting, looking back at you as an unspoken invitation to join him. 

you padded over to where he was, shivering slightly as the night wore on, the stone cold against your skin. His eyes were on you, seeing the shiver on your skin from the cold as you tugged a little on the sheer sleeves from the woven top you wore. 

“You cold?” He asked, observing your shivering form. You looked at him, shrugging a little, trying not to seem needy or like you were disturbing the newfound peace. He smirked a little, offering you the nearly empty bottle. 

You made a face at that. “No thanks. I’m not much for drinking” you look back down at your lap, fiddling with the little pearls hanging from your loincloth. 

“Have you ever tried it?” He asked, not necessarily pushing, but definitely holding a teasing tone over you. You shook your head no.

He leaned back, snickering a little bit as he closed his eyes, enjoying the breeze on his flushed skin. “Fuck..” He muttered under his breath, opening his eyes to quickly look at you before focusing back on the water beneath them.

“what?” you ask, furrowing your brows in slight confusion. “you’re just so fucking innocent. Like, shielded or something” He smirked, shaking his head slightly. You scoffed a little at that, your lips pouty again. “what, so now i’m not interesting because I haven’t had any messed up traumatic stories?” you crossed your arms as you looked at him. 

“Never said that” He replied, still not looking at you. “Then what are you trying to imply with that?” He licked his teeth before looking at you with another smirk, his fangs momentarily on display. “You’re too trusting. Always looking out for everyone else’s well-being before your own. You walk around like some sort of Angel, y/n.” He used a human term, something he did often. You knew one of the few things he bonded over with his dad was studying the language. 

“You say that like it’s an insult” You quip back, rubbing your arms for warmth. “Because it is.” He replied, eyes scanning over you. “You’re so naive sometimes that it hurts just looking at. Letting people walk all over you. You deserve better than everything that’s been surrounding us.” 

You tried not to let his words bother you, but he really could be so mean sometimes, wether it was intentional or not. Your eyes drift down to the bottle in his lap, feeling a sudden impulse within you as you reach out your hand for it. “give me that” 

“what?” he raised a brow, looking at you with a mix of surprise and amusement. “you want a drink?” 

“Yes, I do. Now are you gonna share or am I too innocent for even a sip?” you say, your look unwavering. 

“Well then” He chuckled, passing the bottle over to you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Go on then. Take a sip.”

You continued holding eye contact with him as you bring the cold bottle to your plump, pink lips, taking a swig before grimacing at the taste, a drop trickling down your chin. “Eywa” you muttered under your breath, the liquid leaving a terrible burn down your throat.

“Fuck, you’re cute” He said, reaching out to wipe off the droplet and licking it off his thumb. A small smile played on his lips. “don’t ever get used to that shit”

“What? It’s totally fine! I hardly even tasted it” You try to assure, taking another sip before practically gagging as the liquid hit your tongue

“yeah, you’re a fucking liar” He laughed softly, reaching out to take the bottle back from you. “we should’ve gotten you something nicer as a first taste. I would’ve mixed it up with that coconut water shit you like” He screwed the lid back on after finishing off the last bit of the bottle. 

“you know, you swear a lot” you say, your voice a little more wavered now with the alcohol. He turned away from you, trying not to break into a grin at the slight slurring of your voice. “And alcohol is gross. I stand by what I said earlier” you say, crossing your arms as if to prove a point.

“Good” He replied, smiling at you as he turned his body more to face you, sitting a little closer as he felt the alcohol in his system too, allowing him to feel more comfortable and less of the constant dread and anxiety in his stomach. “Means you’re not used to it.”

“Course I’m not used to it! You said it yourself I’m all naive and innocent” you say in a mocking tone, rolling your eyes at that. He broke into another snicker at that. “you’re so fucking cute when you’re drunk” He whispered, chuckling softly as he leaned in closer to you, his breath fanning across your cheek. “You know, Ive always kinda wanted to see you like this”

You giggle a little, your cheeks flushing from both the alcohol and his comment. “what? drunk?” You ask, lazily tilting your head to look straight at him, your curls becoming messier from the breeze, a few stray pieces falling over your eyes. “Yeah” He laughed, brushing a lock of hair away from your blushing cheek. “mm sounds like you might have a bit of a corruption kink, Lo” you teased, surprising both of you with your unusually bold words.

“Maybe you’re not so wrong about that” He confessed, half joking before continuing “I guess I have a bit of a thing for girls like you. All sweet and gentle. Or more like.. just you” his face has gone a little more serious, looking over your features with an almost predatory gaze.

“and here I thought you were asking me to stay away” you lightly tease, acting like his words from earlier didn’t have an effect on you. “I did, and I meant it. You’re too good for me” He leaned down, his lips almost hovering above yours. “But it’s hard to stay true to that, when you’re sat all cute and flustered ‘cause of me”

Your breath hitches in your throat at the sudden close proximity, leaning in closer to him as you look up at him with that same wide-eyed look that drove him crazy, your lips plump and slightly wet from the alcohol still. “i’m tired of you pushing me away because you think it’s the right thing to do, Lo’ak. S’annoying” you drunkenly mumble, trying to keep yourself from getting too dizzy.

“Well, fuck.” He cursed under his breath, his eyes trailing down to your lips as he gave into the temptation. “maybe it’s time I stop pushing you away then” he whispered, before leaning down to capture your lips in a soft, gentle kiss. You smile against his lips, feeling your chest bubble with excitement as your dainty fingertips come to rest on his chest. 

You pulled back a little, a smile on your face as you leaned your forehead against his. “Am i making you feel better?” you ask, prompting him to let out a laugh. “that’s what you’re thinking about?” He teased, leaning in to give you another quick peck. “yeah, sweetness, you’re making me feel better” He murmured, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him, his other hand burying itself in your curls as he deepened the kiss.

“you taste so god damn sweet, y/n” he groaned, his tongue licking its way into your mouth, practically moaning at the flavour of your lips. You whimpered at his words, desperately trying to keep up with him, shifting til you’re practically in his lap. 

Reluctantly, he pulls away and breaks the kiss, gazing down at you with pure lust and adoration in his golden eyes. “You ever let anyone touch you?” he breathed out, his hand holding you close by the back of your neck, your palms still resting on his chest for stability as you shook your head no. “Good” He grinned, his fangs on display as he reached up your back to untie the strings holding your top together.

As he revealed more of your skin, his touch became more possessive and hungry. “i’m gonna make you feel so good, baby.” he growled against your skin, dipping his head down to lick and suck at your neck, tilting your jaw back with his hand to have better access. “you believe me?” 

“yes, Lo’ak” you breathed out, your skin feeling hot as you trailed a hand to fist his braided hair. “That’s my girl” he mumbled, his hand moving up to cup your breast, squeezing roughly at the flesh as you let out a whimper. “So fuckin perfect for me” 

You moaned softly at the praises, enjoying the feel of his hands on your body as you cup his face and bring his lips back up to yours, desperate to taste him again. He shoved his tongue in your mouth, his hand creeping down your back before untying the strings holding your loincloth together. “lift your hips for me, mama” he murmured against your lips, instantly taking it off and flinging it away once you did. He slowly slid his hand up your thigh, teasingly running his fingers through your folds before letting out a groan. “Eywa, you’re so wet for me”

you gasp softly at the feel of his fingers, leaning your forehead against his as he probed at your opening, before shoving two fingers in, drawing out a yelp from you. “Lo’ak!” you squeal, closing your eyes in pleasure. “fuck, do that again, sweet girl” he groaned, plunging his fingers in and out of you, desperate to hear more of your pretty noises.

you whined and clawed at his shoulders, not used to the feeling of someone else touching you there, soaking it all in as your walls fluttered against his digits. he curled his fingers inside you, watching you nearly unravel in front of him before adding his thumb to rub quick circles into your clit. “oh! Lo’ak! L-Lo! f-fuck!” he smirked as you cursed, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. He thrusted his fingers deeper, pushing faster, seeking out your sweet spot before massaging it with every thrust. You whimpered when you felt his fingertips grazing the spongy spot inside you. 

 “that’s it mama. gonna cum for me?” He sucked a bruise in your neck, his fangs grazing the skin as he resisted the urge to properly mark you here and now. 

“y-yes! mhm!” You moaned, your pussy tightening around his fingers before you let go, crying out his name as you hide your face in his neck.

He slowly pulled his fingers out, shushing your whimpers before flipping you over, your bodies still dangerously close to the ledge, which suddenly just added to thrill of it for you. His breath was heavy as he leaned back down to kiss you, his arm resting on the ground beside your face, almost shielding you in while his other makes quick work to untie his cloth and throw is aside. You looked at him with a dazed expression, taking the time to admire his face and features, feeling your heart skip a beat when his eyes met yours again. 

He smiled down at you, brushing his thumb over your lip sweetly, but it seemed like you had other ideas. Your pink tongue darted out to lick the digit and take it in your mouth, making his dick instantly harder, if that was even possible. He groaned at the feeling, beginning to grind his hips against yours, his cock freely gliding through your folds. “Fuck, mama, you’re making it hard to think straight” he cursed, looking down at your wet pussy dripping slick all over him. 

“Then don’t” You whined, squirming slightly beneath him from the teasing, feeling your arousal grow as you looked up at him with a pleading expression. “Lo’ak, please.” You whispered, bringing your hands up to wrap around his neck, bringing him closer to you as you pressed sweet kisses along his face, a contrast to the sinful acts you were doing. 

Taking your pleas as a sign of consent, he lined himself up with your entrance, pushing in slowly as he let out a growl at your tightness. “Oh, fuck!” He groaned, his head dropping to rest on your shoulder. “fuck mama, you’re so tight. This pussy was made f’me” He pushed himself all the way in, lifting his head back up to look at your face, a hand reaching up to cup your cheek. you had a look of pure bliss on your face, your eyes screwed shut as you adjust to his size, unintentionally holding your breath.

“breathe for me, baby. breathe” He whispered, pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek before he began to slowly rock his hips into yours. “Lo’ak” you whimpered, clawing at his shoulders. “I know. S’okay, i’ve got you.” he groaned, his voice low, making you feel more butterflies in your stomach as you listened to every word he spoke. “feels so good” you whine out, panting against his lips. He smiled at you, kissing you hotly before pulling away again, looking down to where you were connected.

He couldn’t help but moan at the sight, speeding up his thrusts as he rutted against you, watching your pussy clamp down on him. “Eywa, you’re such a sight” he grunted, looking up at your face as he pushed his cock deeper inside of you, watching your jaw drop out of pleasure. “gonna keep the mental image of you like this forever, princess. all fucked out like this, all ‘cause of me” He dipped his head back down to your neck, trailing kisses down your collarbones and lower, squeezing your breast with his hand while beginning to lap at it with his tongue.

you couldn’t respond, hardly thinking as he fucked every thought out of you, your back arching off the ground as you whined and moaned, clinging to him as he pounded into your pussy. His hands gripped your hips tightly, guiding your movements as he took clear control. “Taking it so well for me, sweet girl” 

He angled his hips in a way to hit your sweet spot again, letting go of your nipple with a pop as he moved to the other one, leaving light bite marks along it.

“L-Lo’ak, m’close” you whimper, your eyes still screwed shut as you feel his tongue licking and tracing at your breasts, your chest covered in bite marks. “yeah? let me feel it. cum f’me, cum all over me. be a good girl” he muttered the filth against your skin, trailing his tongue back up to your neck, his fangs grazing over it again as he planned out the spot to mark you. “wanna feel you shake against me, y/n. all around my dick. you won’t let me down, yeah?” He whispered in your ear, thrusting faster as he felt his abdomen tighten, knowing he was close but holding back til he got you there first.

“mm y-yes, yes Lo” you breathed out, whining and gasping as you felt your thighs shake, your pussy tightening around him before you reached your high, tightening your legs around his waist “ohhh fuuuuck!” you cry out, not caring about how loud you were being as he fucked you through it.

“shit! fuck, mama, where do you want it?” he strained, biting his bottom lip to try and hold back as his hips sputtered. you looked up at him, your lips swollen from his kisses and face slightly dewy as you open your mouth, indicating it for him. “Eywa, help me” he muttered, groaning at the implication as he traced your perfect lips with his finger before pressing a rough kiss to them. 

Once he was on the verge of climax, he quickly pulled out, cupping your face with a shaky hand as you sat up on your knees for him. He aligned his dick to rest on your lips as he pumped his cock, before throwing his head back and cumming in your mouth with a groan. His hand brushed through your hair, looking down at you before pulling his hips away from you and kneeling down with you, his free hand still cupping your cheek. He wiped the little dribble of his cum off your lip, smiling at you adoringly, whispering “so fucking pretty” before leaning in to kiss you again. 

you hum contently, smiling once he pulls away. you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, making him let out a laugh at your sweetness even after doing something so filthy. “c’mere” he murmurs, leaning back against the cliff wall as he raises his arm for you. you crawl over, laying down on his chest and nuzzling into him with your face in his neck, closing your eyes as you listen to the sound of the waves below you. 

[thot-of-khonshu]

Say You Love Me (Joel Miller x f! reader)

1K Celebration | Masterlist

Part 2 - Coming Soon

Pairing: Joel Miller x f! Reader (pre and post outbreak)

Rating: M (18+, explicit smut)

Word Count: 6.2K

Summary: Red wine. Rage. Regret. Reunions. When pride separates you from the man that got away in 2003, you thought you’d never see him again. But when going to tie loose ends for Bill and Frank, you see him and a young companion.

Content: TLOU spoilers, slight changes to the story, age gap (~10-15 years), multiple sex scenes, dirty talk, unprotected p in v sex, fingering, cowgirl, creampie, oral (f), rough sex, alcohol consumption, grief, violence, mentions of death, the musical stylings of Fleetwood Mac

A/N: Happy TLOU day! This initially started out as a creation for my 1K celebration to "Maroon" by Taylor Swift, but as you can see it completely manifested into its own short story. Thanks to everyone for being patient for my writing. I hope y'all enjoy!

Every time you have a dream about everything before, you try to document it down in your ratty journal with your pen running on empty. Everything seems to run on empty.

You dream of your former life less and less as the years go by. It’s a hazy memory and you can’t remember how we were able to live on such luxuries and be comfortable and be happy. 

You dream of the man with his large hands and warm smile on your living room floor, warm with wine. 

Red lips. Red cheeks. Red wine. 

The bitter taste of cheap red blends on his tongue. 

Sticky Austin nights where you’d start outside in the thick humidity but end it in ice cold a/c. It never mattered anyway, Joel always ran hot like a furnace so you’d have to settle yourself in between thin sheets. 

You met through Megan who was dating his younger brother Tommy, a Gulf War vet that was more serious about holding his liquor than he ever was fighting in the war. One night when he’d had too much to drink, Joel, the responsible one, picked him up. A sleeping baby girl in the backseat. 

He barged through your front door. “Tommy, what the hell are you doin’ bothering these–” 

He stopped as soon as he looked at you. From that moment it was like the two of you had this instant communication. He didn’t have to say anything, all you needed to do was look into his eyes. 

“HI there.” He smile at you, that warm smile with that dimple on the side of his cheek. “I–uh–hope you’re not the girl my little brother’s been botherin’ “

“That would be my roommate.” You smile back at him. His smile grows even wider and you can’t remember the last time you had such electric eye contact with someone. 

Tommy bursts through the door, coming out of the bathroom with Megan hoisting his large frame.

“Please get him in bed and away from vodka.” She hoists Tommy onto Joel. 

“Tell me a bedtime story.” He slurs. Joel looks at you apologetically as he turns to bring him to the car. You and Megan exchanged a silent look as she could pick up on what was going on and she nudged you to go after him. 

“Hey wait!” You call out, you try not to focus on his broad back muscles. “I think it’s clear Tommy needs some chaperoning whenever he comes over here.”

He furrows his brow in confusion at first. “Y’know, his big brother to come over and make sure he’s doing right?” ‘You smile. 

“Just say when and I’ll tag along.” Joel winks at you. 

He was always a man of his word. 

The next weekend, Megan invited Tommy over and suggested he bring Joel along as well. Tommy came barreling in like a freight train and Joel laid back to greet you at the door. He held up a six pack of beer. 

“I didn’t wanna come over empty handed. It’s all we had in the fridge.” Joel said. 

“Yeah, Joel wanted to come right over after workin’ tonight. Even let Sarah stay at a friends house, ain’t that sweet?”

“Alright, Tommy. I still clearly gotta babysit you.” Joel rolls his eyes. 

“We’ll, thank you for the beer, Joel but we’re more wine drinkers here. Do you like red blend?”

“I’ll drink whatever you give me.”

————————

A few hours later, Megan and Tommy have gone off on their own adventure. You and Joel split the bottle of wine between the two of you and despite him stating he could handle his liquor, his large body was sprawled out across your living room floor with his empty glass tipped over. 

“Miller, I thought you said you could handle your liquor.” You grin at him from the couch. 

“I usually can. I don’t know what was in your roommate’s cheapass screwtop–” 

“Hey–don’t blame the alcohol for why you’re currently on our living room floor right now. And while she can’t defend herself.” 

“You saying I’m a sloppy drunk?” He leans closer towards you and you observe the patches in his beard. 

“I’m saying I don’t wanna hold your hair back above the toilet.” You grin at him. He looks at you, hard. You feel your heart rate rising and the moment is almost too much to handle. You need to ground yourself with something, anything. You turn to your vinyls. 

“You like records?” You ask him, moving towards the shelf. 

“Didn’t know people your age still listened to them.” He called out. You scoffed. 

“I’m not that much younger than you. Besides, this is timeless. CDs might come and go like 8 track players, but these? These are gonna last through everything.” You hold up a record and he nods in approval, Fleetwood Mac’s self titled album. You flip to side two and the sounds of “Say You Love Me” flood the living room. 

You join him on the living room rug and close your eyes, listening to Christine McVie’s voice. 

Have mercy, baby, on a poor girl like me

You know I'm falling, falling, falling at your feet

I'm tingling right from my head to my toes

So help me, help me, help me make the feeling go

“God, her voice is just so ageless. I know everyone always looks at Rumours as their best but this one is just cla–” Your breath hitches when you feel his hand brush your cheek. You feel the warmth of his face coming closer and closer as you finally open your eyes to see Joel ready to kiss you. 

But he forgot his wine glass in his hand as it spilled onto you with the remainder of his alcohol. 

“Shit, shit.” Joel stumbles up and looks around. “I am so sorry, I can clean that up.” 

You get up to him walking around your kitchen, looking for paper towels. When he turns around, you put your hand at his chest and look up at his beautiful brown eyes. 

“Why don’t you help me find a new shirt?” You ask him in a low voice. His jaw is slacked as he slowly nods. 

“Yes ma’am.” He follows behind you, taking your hand as you lead him into your bedroom. 

One thing about Joel Miller? He takes his time. He takes his time giving you soft, syrupy kisses and drawing the anticipation by pulling at your lip. 

He builds you up by meticulously touching every part of your body while peeling off your clothes, grabbing at the swell of your ass, the dips of your hips and pulling at the back of your neck. He wants to make you feel amazing.

Once you’re naked, he lays you on top of your bed and peers up at you as he pulls your knees apart. 

He drags the tip of his tongue over your clit, savoring your taste as he moans in relief. You tremble against him, dragging your hand through his dark curls as he begins to put his full mouth into you, his tongue entering you as his nose brushes your clit. You can’t help but squirm on top of him, rocking onto him as he moans below you. 

“You taste so fucking good.” Joel gets up for air briefly and dives back in. Kissing at your inner thighs, he takes one of his thick fingers and pushes one into you, your body instantly tightening around it. 

“So wet for me too.” Joel moans. He moves in earnest, putting his mouth back onto your clit and the pleasure is all you can concentrate on. He adds another finger, getting up to watch you squirm at his fingers as your wetness fills the room from his methodical thrusts. 

You feel yourself tense, your muscles tightening around him as your pleasure intensifies and your breaths go shallow. When he curves his fingers and moves his mouth back to your clit, you short circuit completely. 

You writhe on top of him as you cum, moaning louder than you’d expected and hoping Tommy and Megan don’t hear anything. Your shallow breaths fill the room and your eyes are shut. Pleasure still pulsates through your body as Joel is now on top of you, kissing at your throat as you feel his heavy, still clothed cock on top of you. 

When you release it, it springs from his boxers, thick and dripping at the top with precum. You rub the tip of his head as he lets out a hiss of air at your throat. You bring the liquid to your mouth and savor the taste. 

“I hope this ain’t too forward,” His hands cup and knead at your breasts. “But I’m desperate to feel you.” 

“Please” You beg. “I have condoms but I’m also on the pill. Whatever you need, just please don’t stop.” 

Joel lines himself up against you, rubbing his thick cock against your soaked walls. His eyes don’t leave yours as he gently enters you. It’s soft at first, him trying to fit in every single inch while also not cumming immediately while he was inside of you. You gripped him, wet and tight. 

During the pause when he’s finally deep inside of you, you both are riddled with heavy breathing. Your kisses are slow but hungry. You start to move below him and that’s what drives him wild. 

He begins to pump faster inside of you, rubbing himself against your swollen clit. You don’t think you’ve ever had something so intimate before. You’d had sex, but this just felt like something out of another dimension. Joel was entirely focused on your pleasure, hungrily pawing at your body as he rocked on top of you. 

When circled his fingers on your clit, you knew you were going to cum a second time. You grabbed at the bedsheets, another climax of pleasure making you arch. 

After you came twice, Joel was needier. He raised your leg so he could get into a deeper position and you had felt so incredibly full. He fucks you at a rapid speed and feeling you convulse around him for another orgasm wasn’t helping and the room filled with the noise of his balls slapping onto your skin. 

You loved that his broad body surrounded you, that all you could feel was him and all you could hear were his grunts into your ear. His hips began to stutter as he filled himself into you, emptying himself as much as he could into your tight walls. 

You don’t realize how badly you were gripping him until you rub his back, his head on your chest and you feel the claw marks. His breathing is labored, still feeling the impact of your sex as you bury your fingers into his curls. 

“This should go without being said,” Joel looked up at you. “But I would really like to take you out sometime.” 

You weren’t going to say no to that. 

—---------------------------------

You wake up, the motion of the car rattling you. 

“Morning, sunshine.” Megan smiles behind the steering wheel. Before everything, Megan was terrified of driving and now you’d catch her dead before she’d stop and pick someone up, choosing to run them over instead because they were likely a hunter. 

And wouldn’t you rather kill than be killed? 

It all happened so fast but so painfully, hauntingly slow at the same time. In one night, civilization as you knew it had ceased to exist. Megan came home, shaking, covered in blood telling you you had to leave tonight. 

You drove until you ran out of gas. You walked until you were able to rob some idiots that tried to give you a ride and take advantage of you. And that’s how you ended up at the Philadelphia quarantine zone. Somewhere far away from Texas and the sticky heat and long carefree nights.

There were a lot of men like that in this world, who thought they could take things from vulnerable women. Little did they realize, the vulnerable women didn’t make it. Not all of them were like that, though. Bill and Frank weren’t. 

You’d met Frank over the radio, talking over some music his partner BIll was playing as some sort of signal. Frank was incredibly kind, warm and worldly in a world with almost nothing left. He’d offered to trade things between you and Megan’s QZ and the Lincoln town he lived in with Bill. 

And Bill? He was…Bill. He wasn’t exactly kind and open to strangers, but he knew the both of you and trusted you after all of these years. Whoever Frank loved, he loved. So when you’d heard the 80’s distress signal coming from the radio, you’d decided to risk the trip and make sure everything was okay. 

When you had gotten to the gate, usually coded, it was wide open and the two of you exchanged looks in surprise. Without having to say a word, you grabbed your handgun out of the glove compartment. Megan pulled up to Bill and Frank’s, seeing their door open. 

The two of you had tried to get out of the car as quietly as possible. Crouching behind the car as you heard the crunch of footsteps. 

“It could be Bill and Frank.” Megan whispered. 

“When is it like Bill to ever keep the gate open?” You asked her. You heard the crunches coming closer. 

The two of you signal to step out at the same time, adrenaline pumping through your veins. After all of this time, it never gets easier doing this. 

Before you could pull the trigger, you hear a HYAH and see a small figure jump out towards you. 

Jesus, it’s a child. Before she could try to stab either of you, Megan pins her down to the ground, knocking the knife out of the way and the kid squirms under her. 

You see another figure jump into frame to defend the kid. A man with grey hair, a broad frame and a handgun. The two of you are in a standoff but something feels off. You know you’ve been to Lincoln so many times before but something about this feels entirely too familiar. 

“Do not hurt the kid.” The man drawls, looking down at her and then back at you. “She didn’t—“

And then his eyes meet yours. Still as piercing as you remember. And you realize that you’re standing in front of Joel Miller for the first time in twenty years. 

“…Joel?” Megan says something first. 

“Hi Megan.” He looks at her briefly to acknowledge her, but he looks back at you. The gun still in his hand, gripped tightly. 

“We’re not looking for any trouble.” Joel says. “We’re here to check on our friends.”

“Bill and Frank.” You finally say to him. “Our friends.” The look of confusion on his face is apparent. 

“You two knew Bill and Frank?” He asks. 

“How about ‘it’s good to see you two alive after all this time’, Joel?” You ask him, exasperated. You were tired of holding this gun, your hands were getting clammy and you had no intentions of shooting him. Even after all this time, you knew he wouldn’t shoot both of you either. 

Megan lets the girl up and she runs to Joel. She puts her gun down and you motion for him to follow suit. He looks at you for a long hard moment, his eyes scanning your body as you feel yourself redden with embarrassment, feeling fully exposed in front of him and looking like apocalyptic shit. He sets his gun down as you follow suit. 

“I think y’all should come inside, then.” Joel said. “Some things you need to see.” 

You follow Joel and the young girl-you find out her name is Ellie- into Bill and Frank’s house. You go to the same place that Bill and Frank would keep supplies, notes or any clothing that Frank had to spare - the second cabinet to the right. That’s where you see their note. 

Frank’s condition had worsened over the past few years. A degenerative disease you weren’t sure exactly what it was, but when he asked for a wheelchair from the Philadelphia QZ you were both more than happy to bring it to them. You knew it was only a matter of time before he went. When Bill decided to go with him, you weren’t surprised. Despite his exterior, everything Bill did was for Frank, the man he loved. 

You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt that kind of devotion to someone until today. 

The four of you sit at the table. An awkward silence between the four of you, the only sound being Ellie rocking her chair. One of the legs must’ve been broken and Bill hadn’t gotten to it ye–

Oh. Right. 

“I didn’t know Bill and Frank knew anyone else besides us.” Megan said. 

“Likewise. I guess that makes sense.” Joel said, his eyes still on you.

You agreed. “Frank, I’m sure, would’ve loved the extra company. More people to host garden parties and socialize for but if Bill had anything to do with it–” 

“He would’ve threatened to kill us.” You say in unison. 

“Trust me, he made sure to make us aware if we tried anything he had his gun right on the table the first time we met.” You said. 

“His reputation precedes himself.” Joel said. 

The two of you are silent for a moment. Megan and Ellie looking between the both of you. 

“Am I missing something?” Ellie asked, pointing at the two of you back and forth. 

“And I think that’s my queue to look around for some food. Maybe we can have some dinner, figure out what the fuck we’re doing and then call it a night before we go our separate ways, huh?” Megan quickly said. 

You sit at the table with Joel and Ellie, completely silent as Joel is now looking away from you and Ellie keeps looking at the both of you. 

“You can cut the tension with a knife, huh?” Ellie whistles. 

“Ellie, go take a shower. They’ve got hot water.” Joel says. She quickly gets up and runs down the hall. 

“You don’t have to tell me twice. But after I take one, you’re going in because man. And if we’re gonna be around company…” 

“Ellie.” He raises his voice into a stern inflection you haven’t heard since…

Where the hell is Sarah? 

—-------------------------------------------------

Later that night, you’ve hunkered down with Megan, Joel and Ellie. The four of you have rabbit along with some vegetables and rice from Frank’s garden. The tension has subsided as you’ve gotten into the wine cabinet. That’s when the memories flow back. The three of you share stories from Texas, your old lives that seem so long ago. Reminiscing on how things used to be as Ellie interjects with a question about the old world every now and then while reading a comic she snagged from Bill’s basement. 

Megan eventually stretches her arms up. “Well, I’ve been drivin’ all day and I’m exhausted. I’m about to hit the hay.” 

“Well I am gonna finish reading this in peace and quiet so I can read about this alien’s guts spilling out without interruptions. Goodnight! You kids have fun!” Ellie grins. 

Megan gives you a look etched in worry before she heads to the stairs. You roll your eyes at her because you can take care of your goddamn self. You have been for ages. 

You hear the footsteps go upstairs as you and Joel sit across from each other at the table. It’s like a lockbox with feelings you hadn’t had in years starts rattling in your chest, a monster of them waiting to come out and erupt.  

You look over at him, his hair slicked back from his shower, grays prominent in his hair and his beard. The swell of his lips was still prominent and had the ability to drive you crazy. 

“Bill and Frank.” You say to him, hoping to silence the voices in your own head.  

“Bill and Frank.” He repeats, his hands fidgeting on the table. 

“So, uh, I guess while we’re here–I’m gonna raid the liquor cabinet.” You head to the liquor cabinet to see if there’s anything strong enough to hold the awkward air between the two of you. You see a dusty bottle in the back of the cabinet, a red blend that looked entirely too familiar to pass up. 

You bring it to the table, setting it down in front of Joel. He looks up at you and shakes his head in disbelief, a small smile etched across his face. 

“After all this time, you still drink the same shitty red blend.” Joel says. 

“Can you handle your liquor any better, Miller?” You slide it towards him, he catches the bottle with one large hand. 

“I guess we’ll have to see.” He grumbles, slicing the wine bottle open with his knife. 

It didn’t take long for you to feel the heaviness of the wine, sloshing in your stomach as you and Joel took turns taking long drinks from the bottle. 

He tells you of Tess, his smuggling partner that had recently gotten infected while smuggling Ellie out of the city. While you admired her bravery and her sacrifice, you can’t help but feel a sting of jealousy. You’d had your partners every now and then, but none of them ever stuck around long enough. None of them ever mattered like he did. 

“She was like family.”  He stated. 

You knew you couldn’t just say sorry. “I’m sorry for your loss” almost seems insulting these days with teh weight of how much it happens. 

“Did–uh–you have any smuggling partners?” Joel asks, sipping on the bottle and looking away as if to play nonchalant. Twenty years and you can still tell when it’s all bullshit. 

“I did. None of them were exactly like family but they were enough to help Megan and I get by. I never trusted them enough to introduce them to Bill and Frank.” You said. 

“Oh.” Was all he could say. 

“I–I couldn’t. I just couldn’t let myself get too far with anyone after–” You can’t even bare to say it. But he looks at you as if you have, like you’ve just cut part of his soul open. 

“What the fuck happened?” You muttered, swigging from the bottle.

“You want the version they’re teaching kids in FEDRA school or the version we remember?” Joel asked. 

“Joel…” You give him a long look. He looks at you, briefly, breaking eye contact to look anywhere else and scowl. He chooses to grab the bottle from you, taking a large gulp. 

“It doesn’t matter now, does it?” He says. 

“Maybe it doesn’t.” You say. “But I still wanna know. I just…we could’ve had this life.” 

His brow arches. 

“You and me. Tommy and Megan. Bill and Frank. We could’ve been a team. It would’ve been something.” 

“Tommy decided to fuck off and join the Fireflies. Pretend like he was makin’ a difference. And then when that fell through last I heard he was in Wyoming. Megan was better off.” He stated. 

“You were…” He silently mutters. 

“We don’t have to talk about any of it. I’ve done some shit I regret but I did it to survive. Because that’s what we have to do in this new world. I get it. But those first few years…I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” 

He takes a large drink of wine. “Or Tommy.” 

“Or Sarah.” 

“Well, there’s no damn use in thinkin’, is there?” Joel snaps back. You know you’ve clearly hit a nerve talking about Sarah. With whatever happened to her. Was she with the Fireflies? Was she with her Uncle Tommy? You’d hate to think it could be any worse. That brilliant, beautiful girl in any sort of trouble or not existing in this world. 

By the pain in Joel’s eyes, the exterior he’d tried to mask by furrowed brows and a hardened expression, you knew. Suddenly the air felt thick. 

“I’m sorry…I’m gonna step outside.” You rush to the porch as you feel the tears flood through your eyes. Sarah’s gone. You didn’t know that after all of the pain, after all of the violence, after everything this world has taken from you, that you could still feel this searing pain of loss. 

You suddenly hated yourself for not being there. For not calling. For running away from things when they had gotten too serious, as if some bullshit relationship problems would matter in a week’s time in that moment. You had no idea what was about to happen. 

If you’d known you would’ve lost everything and everyone in your life you had loved, you would’ve tried to hold on to the man you loved and his family for as long as you could. 

But then again…maybe it was better this way that you weren’t there. You didn’t hold him back, you didn’t hold him back either. This world isn’t for the weak. Love makes you fucking weak. Joel makes you so fucking weak, 20 years later. It’s infuriating, intoxicating and confusing. 

You hear the door open and footsteps come through. You wipe your tears away as you see Joel sit next to you on the bench. 

“I’m sorry.” He says, solemnly. “You didn’t know. It was that night of the…” 

“I know it’s so god damn insignificant now…but I’m so sorry I didn’t call.” You choke. Joel remains silent, his lips wavering. 

“You didn’t know.” He repeats himself. 

“So what happens now?” You ask him. 

“We do what we came here to do. Get our supplies, celebrate Bill and Frank and we drink.”  

“We drink.” You nod. 

And drink you did. 

You drank and remembered the good times, the times when he’d come over every Friday night that Sarah had a sleepover and you’d talk and touch each other until the sun came up. You drank and remember how even though Megan and Tommy had fizzled out, he had still come over to be with you. You drank and remembered the bad times, when you couldn’t handle the intimacy, you both couldn’t decide what this was. 

You can’t bear the way he looks at you. You need an escape. You head to Frank’s record collection. 

You dust off the record collection and see the familiar cover of Fleetwood Mac’s self titled album. You look up at Joel and his cheeks look like they sting with glee. He lets out a small giggle. 

“What was it I used to tell you?” You try to remember. 

“Records are timeless.” Joel says as you flip the vinyl to side B. “You were always right.” 

The room floods with the faint sounds of “Say You Love Me”. It had been years since you’d heard this song but you still remembered every word. Joel extended his hand out to you and you took it, fingers stroking his palm. 

You pressed yourself lightly against him, turning and looping over the hardwood floor as the music continued. Somehow, someway, you could still smell his subtle sandalwood scent. 

'Cause when the lovin' starts and the lights go down

And there's not another living soul around

You woo me until the sun comes up

And you say that you love me

The two of you giggled like children as you looped around Bill and Frank’s living room. The light of the moon shone on Joel’s face and the hardened exterior of the older man was gone for a moment, and you were taken back to 2003 where that gorgeous carpenter was leaning against your doorway for the first time. 

Your hand crept up his neck, feeling his peppered curls as he shivered. In response, he pressed his body closer to yours until you were cheek to cheek. 

He turns to face you. His eyebrows scrunched in worry and confusion of the feelings that were rising. He never thought he would see you again, and these damn emotions kept flooding through his body. 

“I showed up to your house that morning.” He whispered. “Right after we dropped Sarah off at school. My birthday.” 

“So do you still think it doesn’t matter?” You asked him. 

“It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“But it would’ve given us one more good day. Before it all went to shit. And if that’s all we had, then I’m okay with that. Better than the alternative.” 

You pressed your lips onto his, slow and calculated at first. You gave him one small peck to test his willingness to kiss you. You looked back at Joel and his eyes were shut tightly. 

“I’m sorry–I shouldn’t have–” You try to break away but he tightens his grip around you. 

“I’m just trying to savor this moment.” Joel whispers. You meet his lips again, hungrier, needier. Both of your hands exploring each other as if to make sure this was real and you weren’t dreaming it. 

“Joel.” You break away as he strokes your cheek. “Let’s go to bed.” 

“Yes ma’am.” He says. 

It’s no shock that after all this time, you and Joel still fit together like a glove. Your body melts into his with a comfort that you haven’t felt in years. You didn’t know your body could ever feel that good again. 

You didn’t think your hair, greasy and damaged when you looked at it in the mirror, could be stroked like that again. As if Joel had gotten a spool of gold and he didn’t want to ruin it, Joel petted you with delicacy as he undressed you. 

Your stomach, somehow softened throughout the years with age even though you hadn’t had proper nourishment in years, being planted with soft kisses as Joel moved south, desperate to taste your pussy again. 

You climb onto his lap and grip him with one hand, still as thick and as long as ever. You take a moment to look at him through the moonlight, after all these years he’s still incredibly handsome but this world took the sparkle in his eye away. 

“Please, sweetheart.” Joel begs. “Let me feel you again. I’m desperate.” 

That word is what makes you sink down onto him, inch by inch until he’s all the way inside. It was probably a bad idea to attempt to do this without any prep work but you didn’t care, you needed him and it filled a part of you that hadn’t been taken care of in years. 

“Fuck. Fuck.” Joel rasps. “You’re still so goddamn tight.” You can feel your inner muscles clenching at his thickness and the desperate groan that he releases makes you weak. 

You start to move, slowly, as his fingers dig into your hips. The pressure between the two of you is unbearable, you feel him and his full length but you’re desperate for more release. Joel’s ragged breaths concern you, though. 

“Are you gonna be okay if I go faster?” You ask him. 

“I ain’t that old, sweetheart.” Joel rasps under you, that damn smile back in action. 

And with that, you lifted yourself up and slammed yourself into him, grinding your clit against his cock at a fast and desperate pace. 

He moves forward, putting a mouthful of your breast into his mouth as his other hand rests on your lower back. You can feel the intense pleasure so blindly that you don’t know how long it’ll be until it boils over. When you contract around him and cum, Joel lets out an animalistic groan. 

“Fuck, that’s it.” He moans. “Milk my cock, baby.” 

You ride out your orgasm and just when you think you have time to recover, Joel begins to thrust upward deep and hard. His hips snapping up and bouncing you on top of him. He tangles his fingers into your hair, pulling you down to thrust his tongue into your mouth. 

You suck his tongue and desperately cling to him, unsure how much longer you’ll be able to go without cumming again. 

“I can feel it, sweetheart.” Joel groans. “Cum around my cock one more time, just give me one more. Please.” 

He breaks free from your tight embrace to rub your swollen clit as you grind on top of him again, trying to remain as silent as possible so you don’t wake anyone else in the house. 

You convulse and cum around him again, dizzy with pleasure as he takes one leg for leverage and begins to fuck into you harder than before. At this point, you can’t control the sounds coming out of you as he hits a spot inside of you that feels so good. His hips begin to stutter and Joel fills himself into you. He cums so hard that you feel it leaking out of you while he’s still inside. 

The two of you stayed just like that for a few moments, clung to each other as you heard his heartbeat hammering inside of his chest. You peppered soft kisses onto his body as you got from on top of him. The contrast of being full and then leaving him made you wince. 

Joel got up from the bed and you hesitated for a moment. Did he regret this decision? Was he going to sleep in his own bed? When he came back, he had a warm washcloth and he used it to wipe between your legs. Hot water will never be taken for granted in this world. 

The two of you then snuggled up together, the situation being better left unsaid. You knew that you both had to start preparing for the morning, so instead of talking, you just shut your eyes and tried to enjoy his strong arms around you. 

—-----------------

You heard a faint knock at the door and almost forgot where you were for a moment. When you felt Joel’s arms around you, his lips pressing against your cheek, you woke up with the biggest smile you’d had in a very long time. 

“Good morning, you two.” Ellie shouts throughout the door. “Knock knock. Megan’s making breakfast, wake your asses up, lovebirds!” 

“Don’t–don’t come in here Ellie.” Joel tries to exclaim, sleep in his voice. 

“I’m fucking good, man. I’m gonna help Megan with breakfast.” You hear her footsteps as she leaves the hallway and you turn to him. 

He was still there. And suddenly you were reminded of each and every time he’d stayed over, Megan making everyone breakfast as you’d talk and laugh through the previous night. 

This morning was no different. It felt oddly comfortable, the four of you enjoying each other’s company even though you knew it had to end. You’d spent the rest of the morning gathering supplies but then it was time to grab your backpack out of the bedroom. 

Joel was sitting on the edge of the bed. It reminded you of how things were the previous day, where he couldn’t look you in the eye. He was riddled with discomfort. In this world, you’re so used to not even having to say goodbye. That’s honestly not as painful as having to do it. 

You walk up to him, giving him a long hug. 

“Joel, if it’s true what you told me – if she’s immune – this is huge. It might give the world another chance. It might give us another chance.” You say to him. 

“You still have so much hope for the world. That's why I will always love you.” Joel whispers. You feel your heart crack. You feel the toolbox in your chest start to rattle. 

You know you shouldn’t say it. You know you’d be an idiot to say something so vulnerable and stupid in this world. But if you don’t say it, what else do you have? 

“I love you too, Joel. Take care of yourself, okay? Take care of Ellie. If you ever find yourself at the Philadelphia QZ you know where to find me.” You say to him. 

He presses his lips against you softly. As if to savor every moment, every feeling. Every curve and swell of your lip. He grabs at the back of your neck and you mimic him, grabbing the back of his. As if pushing further into the kiss could bring you back to those hot Austin nights. 

Because you knew this was the last time you’d get a good taste of home. 

You walk him out towards the car, Ellie already next to the passenger seat bouncing up and down because she had never ridden in a car before. You and Megan send them both off, his reflection in the rearview mirror never leaving your sight until the truck becomes a small blur. 

“You gonna be okay?” Megan asks you, with that same look of worry she had given you the night before. 

You’re not sure if you will be, but you have to forge ahead as you always do. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.” You state. And the two of you get ready to go, heading into the car back to the QZ. 

“Talk about a blast from the fuckin’ past.” Megan says, starting the car. “It’s funny…I had actually heard about Nick – y'know the one that was in the Fireflies– talking about somewhere in Jackson. Small fuckin’ world.” 

You lean your head up against the car window. Your thoughts immediately go back to last night. 

Small fuckin’ world indeed. 

[thepixelelf]

warnings: coarse language. wc: 793

[the amnesia card always declines]

If there's one thing Joshua Hong has above all else, it's the audacity.

If there's two things, it's the audacity and the most grabbable, stupidly defined, makes-you-wanna-bite-into-them man tits you've ever seen in your godforsaken, miserable life.

Well, okay, maybe that counts as three things. Whatever.

"Oh my fucking god," you hiss, ducking closer to the coffee shop/bakery's table and hiding your entire head with both arms. "What is he doing here?!"

Soonyoung, the least subtle person you know (but you've given up on fixing him at this point) turns 180 degrees in his chair to watch the loser posing for a "totally casual" photoshoot outside. He hums in understanding, putting his hand under his chin like an experienced detective. "He must've seen your instagram story."

"He doesn't even follow me..."

"Oh, he's following you, alright." Soonyoung turns back around and stabs his fork into his strawberries 'n' cream croffle.

You glare at him over the pastries on the table. "Very funny."

"I know I am," he says with a dumb smile that says your sarcasm was not effective! "When are you going to stop holding your stupid grudge?"

An offended scoff escapes you. "It is a completely reasonable grudge, for your information."

"What, you being mad at him for...kissing you at that party?"

"For smooshing that stupid pretty face on mine at that party then acting like it never happened!" You slap your hands on the table, but as soon as you spot Joshua outside start to turn his head, you duck back into hiding.

Soonyoung points his fork at you. "He was drunk."

"So was I," you argue with a sneer. "But I remember everything-- especially you being the reason we had to cut the night short because you started drunk-crying and I had to take you home."

Suddenly capable of shame, Soonyoung scoots forward in his chair and leans over the table. "Have I mentioned that I love you and you're the best friend in the world?"

"Whatever, buddy." You roll your eyes. "Just remember all the shit I've done for you when I'm the one crying in the club."

"Crying in the club?" echoes Joshua--

Joshua?!

Your soul escapes your body entirely and jolts back in a nano-second. "Holy fuck--" You put a hand over your racing heart and send a death glare to the smug offender. "You scared the shit out of me!"

Joshua just smiles that stupidly pretty smile and, damn it, you're supposed to be ignoring this jackass.

"Sorry," he says, but he doesn't sound sorry at all. "Are you free?"

Making a face, you look over at Soonyoung, who just shrugs, then back at Joshua. "...Right now?"

"Right now is good." He nods in thought. "Or later today. Or tomorrow. If not, then the day after that. You've been avoiding me."

You force your shoulders to relax and avert your eyes. "No I haven't."

Joshua's expression suddenly goes solemn, which you notice because, shit, you started looking at him again. "Did I do something?"

At that, you scoff, crossing your arms and shaking your head in disbelief.

"Seriously. That party... I don't remember much, except that I've barely seen you since."

"Don't play the amnesia card on me, Josh. It's so tired."

His brows furrow, and your stupid fingers want to massage the hurt look right off his forehead. As if the dumbass deserves it.

"It's not amnesia," Joshua says. "But it's fuzzy. I can't tell what really happened that night or what was just my dream."

"Really? We're talking dreams now?"

He shrugs, crossing his arms, which fold just underneath those stupid, huge pecs... "I happen to dream about you a lot."

"Mmhm... Sure..." Are they bigger than the croffles? The melon buns? The... "Wait-- what?"

Joshua smiles, and you just know he caught you staring, the little shit. "I said, I dream about you a lot. Kiss scenes included."

Your jaw drops, maybe to the floor, but you can't be bothered to check. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Soonyoung make a perfect circle with his mouth before he hurriedly asks the barista if they serve popcorn.

"Joshua Hong, you..." Standing from your chair, you fist the collar of his fleece sweater in both hands, primed to throttle. "...are so fucking stupid."

Then somehow, even though you're the one who pulls him in, he's the one who takes your breath away.

When your lips part, though, you open your eyes while his stay closed, and he leans in again.

"Wait," you say, halting him with the one word. "How did you find me here?"

Wincing, Joshua peeks just one eye open. "Please don't be mad at him."

You whip around, but the bell over the shop's door is already tinging, and Soonyoung is dashing across the street like his life depends on it.

Good, because it does.

"Kwon Soonyoung! You are so fucking dead!"

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 28

part 1 | part 27 | bonus stobin scene | ao3

cw: anxiety attack, graphic thoughts of death

Chapter 7

Steve's mom leaves the week before Thanksgiving.

No preamble, no notice, no "so long and thanks for paying rent," just— poof. Gone. Ta-ta, kiddo. Have a great life!

(Or don't!

Who cares?

Not me, that's for sure!)

The worst part is Steve finds out from Ernie of all people. Ma couldn’t even tell him to his face that she’s abandoning him to the gaping maw of this hellish town because she’s a good-for-nothing coward. Some day this place is gonna swallow him whole, splinter the bones and cough up the pellet, and Florence Harrington will be somewhere far, far away, sighing empty condolences over a fresh glass of red. “Just dreadful, isn’t it? Such a pity; what a shame.”

Steve’s hanging towels on the clothes line the day after the party — after the ride to drop off Max and the hangover brunch with Robin; after drowning his headache in Tylenol and finally getting home, only to realize that he can’t shower yet because all the towels are soaking wet — when Ernie looks up from his yardwork and casually ruins his goddamn life.

“You're wastin' your time with that,” he says, propping his weight against a rake and squinting at Steve in the mid-afternoon sun.

“What?” Steve frowns; hangs another towel. It's not like they're going to dry themselves. "Why?"

"Too cold."

"It's not supposed to rain, though, is it?"

"No, but the humidity—"

Screw the humidity. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

Ernie shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

He turns his attention back to his yard, dragging the rake over a smattering of damp leaves; obsessed with keeping his little patch of lawn pristine; and Steve reaches into the hamper and sincerely hopes that Ernie’s wrong. He needs a shower, and if the towels don't dry fast enough they get that gross mildew smell to them, and then it gets in Steve's hair, and how is he supposed to flirt with Eddie if he smells like musty lake water?

"Where's your mom off to, anyway?" Ernie asks after a moment. "Saw her leave this morning with two big suitcases,” he explains when Steve throws him a questioning look. “Figured she was off somewhere nice.”

Steve blanches.

Two big suitcases?

He didn’t even notice that she wasn’t here. Feels like a stupid, selfish asshole now, because he’d called ‘ma, I’m home!’ when he got in earlier and had thought nothing of her complete lack of response, the peaceful silence of the house; had welcomed it at the time, even, and what if—

Oh, god, what if she’d died?

What if she’d been lying there dead in her room, and Steve didn’t bother to check because he was too busy thinking about himself and how nice it was not to hear reruns on the TV for once? How long would she have lain there, rotting and bloated, and— and how long would his dad have, if the gunshot hadn’t rung out? How long; how long? Bleeding out on the carpet gurgling fish sounds everything red and Steve can’t breathe—

“Did she—?” he pants. Brings a hand to his throat; tries again. “Did you- see who she left with?”

“Some woman. Relative of yours, maybe? I didn’t get a good look at her. Had a real fancy car, though. Mercedes, think it was.”

Steve chokes on his own spit. Feels his throat close up, his heart pound and his ears ring and the yellow-purple-black start creeping in like vines at the edge of his vision, like demogorgon claws; like death’s shark-toothed grin. Hungry, howling, happy as it takes a bite out of him.

“You alright?” Ernie asks.

Steve grinds his jaw so hard he feels something crack. "Excuse me," he grits out, stomping back into the house.

—

"Fuck!" Steve shouts to his empty house — to the sun-faded paneling, to the weird stain in the orange carpet. Fucking Cecelia; fucking hell.

He cleans the house in a rage, eyes hot with unshed tears, and there's a note on the breakfast table. Crisply folded on plain paper, prim cursive letters, almost comically estranged:

Steven,

Apologies for short notice. Gone to stay with Aunt Cece in Evanston. Call or visit if you like.

— Mom

P.S. Happy Thanksgiving

The words leave papercuts in his throat. Steve rips the note to tiny pieces, can hardly see for the tears swimming in his eyes, but he's not crying over this; he's not. He fucking refuses.

Somewhere along the way, the cleaning turns to blind destruction, demolition of the all the little scraps of life mom left behind: her creepy angel figurines, her vintage Pyrex dishes, an empty bottle of old perfume. Steve hurls them all against the living room wall, delights in the shimmering pile of broken glass at his bare feet. Wants to crawl over it on hands and knees. Wants to burn this place to the ground.

When the sun dips below the trees he goes back out to check the towels. The air is wet, bitterly cold; nips at his hands when the wind blows, and the towels hang heavy on the line, just as damp as before but now the slightest bit stiff with the first creep of frost.

"FUCK!" Steve roars, ripping a towel down off the line. Yanking each one down in turn, throwing them into the dirt, raging, "What! Is! The fucking! Point!"

His tears spill over then, hot and wet as he sinks to his knees with a wounded growl, and he chokes there in the dirt; the cold, wet mud, the patchy grass. Gravel digs into his shins, and sobs wrack his chest, capsize him like plunging waves, and he can't do anything but shake and cry where the whole neighborhood can see. Making a commotion; making a scene, as his mother would say, but his mother's not here. She fucking left. She left him here, and his dad did, too, and Steve is utterly, truly, hopelessly alone.

"Come on, son."

And there’s Wayne Munson, coaxing him up off the ground with a sure, strong grip. Steve makes animal sounds as Wayne lifts him under the arms — ruined hiccups, mangled wails. There's mud in his lungs. Ocean silt; sucking sludge.

His mother's gone.

"Easy now," Wayne shushes; hugs him hard against his side. "You're alright, kid. You're alright."

—

part 29

tag list under separate reblogs, comment if you’re over 21 and want to be added tomorrow

[queen-lucy-the-valiant]

On my last rewatch of Prince Caspian, I wondered what it would be like to be one of the Narnian’s in the battle planning scene; watching the supposed High King suggest what is essentially a suicide mission. The fight is really between the High King, the myth come to life, and Prince Caspian, the Telmarine prince they’ve accepted as the leader of their rebellion; both plans offer hope, both plans might work, but both plans also seem like a stretch; the most likely outcome is that they all die. But no one is saying that the most likely outcome is death, they’re all just dancing around it. Caspian and Peter are both saying their plan has the highest chance of success, but neither of them are saying that the rebellion might fail, that everyone in the How might die in a few short days.

And there has to be a disconnect here; how many of the Narnians were like Trumpkin when he first met the Pevensies, how many of them assumed these apparent children wouldn’t be able to help them. They accept them, of course they accept them, Caspian himself is a child, if an old one. So you have this apparent child, claiming to be the high king of legend, suggesting an insane plan, and even though he’s sure the plan will work, maybe you can’t get over the fact he’s young, maybe you can’t get over the fact young usually means inexperienced. And during all of this, his youngest sister, supposedly a queen in her own right, is casually sitting on the stone table itself, and maybe this angers you, because no one has dared to touch the stone table, the place where Aslan died and was born again, because to do so would be to disrespect him; but there she sits, silent until she challenges her brother, silent until she voices the thought everyone is thinking but no one dares to say; “That’s what I’m worried about,” she says after the first pledge of ‘or die trying’ has been made, “You’re all acting like there’s only two options. Dying here, or dying there” she says. “I’m not sure you’ve really been listening, Lu,” the high king says, a little patronizingly, a little dismissively; and it occurs to you that maybe he cannot see past the child to the woman she used to be, as you cannot see past the child he appears to the man he used to be. If he cannot, how can you? Maybe you expect her to back down, this is the high king after all, but she has already been brave enough to voice what everyone else didn’t dare. So she doesn't back down; “No, you’re not listening” she says emphatically, “or have you forgotten who really defeated the white witch, Peter,” and she refers to an event a thousand years past, one so wrapped up in legends and myth that maybe the truth really has been forgotten, maybe everyone in the How has also forgotten who really defeated the White Witch. Or maybe you simply do not expect her to call on Alsan, when she appears to be so casually disrespecting him. “I think we’ve waited for Aslan long enough” the high king says, and then walks away, ending the argument, after all, they’ve already decided to attack the castle, what’s the point in arguing about it more. 

In this moment, Lucy is the only one thinking about Aslan, because everyone else agrees with Peter, they have waited for Aslan long enough, centuries of waiting while the Telmarines hunted them to near extinction, and now the kings and queens of old are here, surely sent in Aslan’s sted; they’ve decided it is time to act and the high king has offered a plan, something they can do, rather than continue to sit around and wait. He’s the high king, he’s so confident the plan will work, and it’s the only plan they have, so of course they do it, (and it seems like it might’ve worked if caspian understood that you can free people from the dungeons and execute miraz after you’ve managed to take the castle, but that’s not what this is about). 

I don’t know, it just seems like this moment would be really strange to see as a bystander; the Pevensies haven’t even been there that long, maybe a couple of days, so even if everyone accepted them as the kings and queens of old, they still don’t really know them, let alone understand them; it’s doubtful that the Pevensies they know from the stories are anything like the real Pevensies that stand before them. They’ve suddenly been confronted with kings and queens of legend who appear in the bodies of children, who look like young ones but behave like old ones, who saw the history of a thousand years ago, who are the history of a thousand years ago. Even if they believed the Pevensies are the kings and queens of old, maybe they’re finding it hard to stop discounting them as children; and then they see the high king himself do it, in the same breath as dismissing Aslan. In this moment they see that the high king is just like them; he to is avoiding the inevitability of death, dancing around it with grand plans and heroic deeds, and he fully believes they will work, after all, he’s never lost a battle before; but he’s avoiding it all the same, casting off Aslan as the rest of them seem to be doing; not intentionally, of course not, but they’ve waited, and waited, and he hasn’t come, so they will follow the high king who acts in Aslan’s name. And maybe in this moment they begin to stop discounting Lucy, as the youngest of the kings and queens, because she has not lost her faith in Aslan, while so many of them have, she is willing to wait for him as the rest of them are not.

I feel like we don’t talk about the point of view of the caspian era narnians enough; we talk about how strange it would be for the Pevensies, to come home and have home be unrecognizable, but we don’t talk about how desperate the caspian era narnian’s must have been to accept that four humans were their kings and queens of old, even with the cave paintings; we see more detailed in Cornelius's office, but how many of the narnian’s would have had access to that art? They put their lives in the hands of the Pevensies, on the faith that they are who they claim to be, on the faith that these children have more experiences than anyone else, and maybe it’s during this scene that the faith begins to become belief. Then they fail and everything falls apart again before they pull it together one last time, but that’s not my point. My point is, how desperate would you have to be to believe four strangers are the heroes out of your myths come to save you; how hard would it be for you to believe it, truly believe it, instead of just following along, hoping they succeed because everyone else has failed you.

this is very disjointed, so I hope you actually made it to the end and I thank you if you did, hope you enjoyed my random mutterings.

[sighed-the-snake]

Gun LOADED!

Many people are looking to the bullet catch scene to theorize that Aziraphale is going to fake Crowley's death in the next season, but I think there's another compelling scene from S1 that we should be looking at.

The one with the paintball guns, from S1.

Norm, from management, has a YELLOW cloth tied around his arm, as does the rest of his platoon. Yellow is known to be associated with Aziraphale, and by extension, angels. But I don't think this manager is representing Aziraphale. I think he is meant to represent Crowley.

"I wanted to be a graphics designer," he says. "Design LPs for the Rolling Stones."

Crowley was a graphics designer, of a sort. He made beautiful nebulas. I also think Crowley worked for management and held a high position.

"But the careers teacher said he hadn't heard of them. So I spent 36 years double-checking form BF-18."

The careers teacher is probably God. I get the feeling people in Heaven did not understand or appreciate Crowley's cleverness, didn't understand his work. Crowley was more of an artist than a bureaucracy guy. I wonder if becoming friends with 'Lucifer and the Guys' afforded him some professional freedom, a way to get away from form BF-18, as it were. Maybe Lucifer was his boss and allowed him to do whatever his little heart desired because having a clever subordinate who pulled off such complex work made him look good.

"They couldn't just say, 'Oh, Norman, we're giving you early retirement. Have a watch, bugger off and tend to your marigolds."

The mention of tending to marigolds is interesting here.

The British have something called gardening leave.

From wikipedia, "Garden leave (also known as gardening leave) is the practice whereby an employee leaving a job – having resigned or otherwise had their employment terminated – is instructed to stay away from work during the notice period, while still remaining on the payroll."

It's a sort of limbo period between leaving the company and no longer working for them. You don't go into the office, you're not allowed to contact your former business associates, but you're still getting paid, and you're expected to respond if they call you for assistance. Gardening leave could be a short period of weeks or months to let things calm down before you return because you screwed up, or it could be a prelude to getting fired, or forced into retirement.

Gardening leave sounds an awful lot like what Crowley has on Earth. He was literally sent to a garden to do a job, and he does not return to Hell after. He remains. He lives a posh life with a expense account and a lot of freedom compared to other demons. Furfur remarks on the unfairness of it. Crowley appears to be given assignments once in a while but otherwise I don't think much is expected of him - again, compared to other demons. We've seen the way they're crammed in down there.

(Why he's on gardening leave is a speculation for another day.)

"Well, if they want war," Norm says, knotting his RED necktie around his head, "we're going to give them war. Okay, guys, let's get the bastards."

Clearly, this is when Crowley in Heaven says to himself, "Fuck it, I hate these guys, let's brawl."

And then he turns around and is promptly shot in the heart by the RED team.

He staggers dramatically. He falls. We see the life leave his eyes.

Except it's a trick. One that Norm is not privy to. He thought he was dead as much as everyone else.

But Norm raises his head and looks, bewildered, at the bullet hole in his pocket. He's made a miraculous escape. It mirrors the age-old TV trope of having some hard metal thing in his pocket to deflect the bullet.

In a way, I think this is supposed to represent Crowley's fall from Heaven that he did not see coming, but with S2 and the bullet catch adding context, I think this entire scene holds more meaning.

The thing is, part of writing a good story is including echoes of your theme.

Every single romantic relationship in Good Omens mirrors Crowley and Aziraphale in some way (I'll write more on that later, probably).

Adam and his friends being reflections of the Four Horsemen.

The bookshop being an echo of Eden. The repetition of the "leaving the garden" theme at the end of both seasons, with S1 burning down the bookshop, and S2 with Crowley and Aziraphale leaving it behind.

Twice now, once in each season, there has been a theme of bullets, of getting shot, of miraculously not dying, and no one expecting it.

I'm pretty confident that in S3, Supreme Archangel Aziraphale is going to have his hand forced. He's going to have to execute Crowley for something he has done to meddle with Heaven's plans. And I think Aziraphale is going to have to pull a fast one with very little planning to fake his boyfriend's death.

I can picture it now, with Aziraphale saying something ridiculous to the crowd of witnesses like, "FLAMING SWORD LOADED!" to drop the hint, and the crowd sighs inwardly over what an idiot Aziraphale is, but Crowley looks at him like, "What the fu- oh, we're doing a bullet catch."

[lovemyavatar]

STAR GIRL

| Lo’ak x F!Avatar Reader |

summary: gradually, you find your place within the Omatikaya clan

warnings: mentions of death, Lo’ak is a bad influence

notes: so I realized I forgot to age up Tuk but I’m in too deep so we’re going with it

dialogue in italics is Na’vi translated to English

chapter two chapter four

Chapter Three

The first time he sees you in Omatikaya clothing, his jaw nearly hits the ground. He’s staring, he knows he is, but there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

Yellow eyes are wide, pupils blown. His breaths are shallow, ragged while a heated gaze rakes down your form. If he thought you were beautiful before, now you were downright devastating.

The woven top and loincloth hug your curves perfectly, as if they’ve been made just for you. Logically, he knows they’re leftovers, discarded due to imperfection. It’s the only thing fitting for an outsider. But the way the fabric drapes between your legs has his heart thundering.

His brow furrows as he watches you fidget nervously. You stand at the edge of the crowd, head slowly turning from side to side. He’s on the opposite edge, hundreds of Na’vi between you. It’s breakfast time, so most of the clan is already present in the gathering area.

He takes a single step forward before a strong hand clasps his bicep. Neytiri glances up at him expectantly, tugging him with a gentle firmness.

“Sit.” The command is simple, level. His grandmother has given explicit instructions not to cause any more scenes as a family, so she has no choice but to keep her voice down.

With a tight jaw his eyes flick in your direction, only to see that you’ve disappeared. Begrudgingly, he plops down beside his mother. He doesn’t stop searching for you, not until an amused voice makes his ears twitch.

“You look like a lovesick viperwolf, brother.” Kiri bats thick lashes at him, a teasing grin splitting her face.

He grunts in annoyance and lightly shoves her shoulder. She merely smirks as Jake gives him a silent warning in the form of a head tilt, raised brows challenging him to continue with his attitude.

“Eat, boy.” His father gestures to the warm food in the middle of their little family circle.

“There will be no lovesick. Not with that girl.” Neytiri grumbles around a mouthful of fresh vegetables and meat.

Lo’ak can’t help but roll his eyes. He picks at the selection in front of him, unable to form an appetite. His attention shifts through the crowd, once again coming up short. Where could you have gone?

“Grandmother invited her to stay.” His tone drips with defiance. “She is our guest.”

Neytiri hisses and jerks her head away, avoiding the subject entirely. Jake rubs a hand over her shoulder before returning to his meal.

“Yes, and I’m sure you’re very happy about that, brother.” Neteyam sits opposite him, elbows resting on bent knees. His gaze slices right through him, taunting.

Lo’ak bites his tongue. His head dips, ears flicking back as he roughly grabs a chunk of meat. Of course, the first words from his brother after their argument are condescending.

“What is that supposed to mean?” He prods, the food in his hand easily forgotten.

“Hmm? Oh, nothing.” A grin splits his lips at Lo’ak’s pointed stare. “The two of you make quite the pair, that’s all.”

“Don’t be mean, ‘Teyam.” Tuk whispers, tiny hand poking his thigh.

“Hey! This is no way to start our day. That’s enough. Both of you.” Jake’s rough voice cracks between them, instantly stiffening their spines to attention.

Lo’ak doesn’t stop searching throughout the meal, though he never does find you.

“There’s no bleed, no signs of hypoxia. There’s a bit of activity here in the prefrontal lobe, but overall cognitive function looks good.”

A machine beeps rhythmically at your side. Adhesive pulls at your skin, holding wires against your forehead.

Norm, as you’ve learned, is a friend of the Sully’s. He runs what’s left of the Avatar program on Pandora, as he was part of the original crew that touched down with Jake and Grace. He’s practically a legend within the program now, and you’ve only met him twice before this moment.

“I mean, I don’t know what I’m supposed to be looking for here.” He sighs, attention shifting to the screen in his hands.

“I just want to know what we’re dealing with.” Jake mutters, voice low as if the information is sensitive.

It isn’t as if there’s anyone to hide it from. You’re surrounded by Jake, Norm, and Mo’at in the Tsahik tent. Everyone else has been strictly forbidden.

“I have told you already.” Mo’at tips her chin in irritation. “Eywa has chosen her.”

“We’re talking about a spontaneous consciousness transfer. That’s never happened before. Ever.” Norm’s voice deepens with something dark. Disbelief or anxiety, you can’t tell.

The second you arrived in this same tent the night before, Mo’at demanded answers. You told her in the clearest way possible that you have no idea what the hell happened, just that you’d somehow been waking up in your Avatar for over a week now.

Jake rakes a hand down his face, squeezing the bridge of his nose with pinched eyes. They pop open and flit to you, wide and inquisitive.

“You’re absolutely sure?” His voice is tender, kind as he fishes for answers you don’t have.

“I buried my own body. So, yeah. I’m sure.” The words are bitter on your tongue. They come out harsher than intended, but you’ve been poked and prodded for the last hour straight. Your patience is wearing thin.

You haven’t even begun dealing with the fact that half of you, the original you, is gone forever. Life within the clan is fast moving. From the moment you wake up, you’re expected to be working. You have to earn your place. It’s either make yourself useful, or face Pandora’s harsh conditions on your own.

Something softens behind Jake’s eyes. A heavy breath leaves his lips, one of his large hands smoothing over your knee for a brief moment. He gestures to the medical equipment attached to you at various points.

“Alright. Let’s get this stuff off her.”

“Jake. This is insane.” Norm makes no move to obey the command. “We need to study her. I mean this could mean so many—”

“We’re done.” His rough voice silences the scientist instantly. He starts undoing the machinery himself, and Norm begrudgingly follows suit.

His eyes meet yours again as he gently peels a piece of adhesive from your temple. “You have a safe place here, okay?”

All you can do is nod in understanding. Safe? Maybe. But welcome? Not a chance.

“No, no, child.” Mo’at swats your hand gently. A root falls from your fingers before you can chop it, clattering onto the tent floor. “This one.”

She shoves a bundle of leaves across the flattened stone that serves as her work station. You take them silently, jaw tensing with frustration. The muscles of your arms ache from overuse.

Three days.

Three days you’ve spent grinding, chopping, rolling various plant life.

You haven’t had a single solitary moment since Mo’at welcomed you into the clan. She barely lets you out of her sight during waking hours. Jake seems to hover over you as well, something Neytiri hasn’t hidden her displeasure about.

Every morning, Neteyam waits for you to wake up, a bundle of tension beside your hammock. You’ve tried telling him you can find your own way to breakfast, just a short journey to the base of Home Tree. He’s quick to remind you that he’d never provide escort on his own, he’s simply following orders.

When you arrive, Jake always asks how you slept. His eye bore into yours, as if he doesn’t quite believe your short fine, thank you. The first day, you avoided breakfast all together after a sea of judgmental eyes dissected every inch of you.

He quickly decided you’d eat with his family from then on. He called it a show of good faith, an expectation that the rest of the clan treat you with respect. Reception has been mixed, but ultimately none of them have a choice once the Olo’eyktan sets an example.

After breakfast, you’re shuffled to the Tsahik tent by Mo’at, Kiri trailing a few feet behind. There, you spend your days under their supervision.

It’s suffocating.

Your hands shake with pent up emotion. You haven’t had a single moment of peace, a single moment of quiet to sort through your thoughts. You’re a ticking time bomb. If something doesn’t give soon, you know the aftermath won’t be pretty.

Your grip on the knife slips, nearly slicing your palm as it clatters to the floor. Mo’at simply clicks her tongue beside you, not bothering to look away from her weaving.

She expects you to learn quickly. Her method of teaching isn’t so much about showing you what to do, but rather chastising when inevitable mistakes are made.

On your other side, Kiri lets out an irritated breath. She grabs the wooden bowl she’s been using to grind dapophet leaves and abruptly turns away. In a few long strides she’s positioned herself on the far end of the tent.

Your eyes squeeze tightly, the now constant throb beneath your skull roaring to life. You scoop up the knife, lips pulling into a frown. Since dragging you here with her siblings, Kiri has been standoffish. Moody. Avoiding you at every chance.

You didn’t expect much. You didn’t expect anything, really. But it seemed like such a departure from the girl who saved you so many years ago.

A quick glance toward Mo’at confirms that she’s still consumed with her work. You place the knife down and inhale a deep breath of confidence before making your way across the tent.

“Kiri…” You test the waters gently, approaching her side with caution. She doesn’t miss a beat, continuing to grind the plant without pause.

You press on, undeterred. “If there’s something I did—”

“You did nothing.” She speaks evenly in Na’vi, attention never leaving the bowl in her hands.

Your eyes widen in surprise. There’s no time to think up an argument, no time to deny it as she peers at you pointedly. You’ve been caught.

“How did you know?” You cast a nervous glance over your shoulder, ensuring that Mo’at won’t hear when you whisper in their native tongue.

“I am not an idiot.” Kiri seems insulted by the thought alone, scoff accenting her response.

Honestly, there’s no real reason you haven’t told them you speak Na’vi. It just seems too intimate. Too close to showing them a piece of you that you just aren’t ready for.

“I’m sorry. I know I’m not welcome here, but I’m trying to be helpful.” You sigh dejectedly, fidgeting a bit on your feet.

She pauses her work, bright yellow eyes meeting yours for the first time in days. They flick over your face for a brief moment before dropping back to the bowl in her hands.

“For years, no one believed that I saved you. When you came here…I didn’t know how to feel.” She mumbles the words, as if they’re hard to say. As if it takes a lot for her to share the information with you. “It’s all a bit weird.”

“I understand.” You send her an encouraging smile, hoping you’ve made some kind of progress with this conversation.

“You are welcome with me. Us outcasts have to stick together.” She returns your warm expression, slim shoulder bumping yours teasingly.

Your ears twitch in question, lips parting to ask what she means by that, when Mo’at’s booming voice pulls your attention away.

“Really? Again, ‘eveng (child)?”

You turn, gaze instantly locking on hooded yellow eyes.

“Sorry, Grandmother.” Lo’ak’s left arm is crossed over his broad chest, long fingers clutched over his right shoulder. Crimson stains blue skin, peaking out through the digits.

His attention is forced away as she roughly pokes his other shoulder, spinning him slightly to face her. She grunts in displeasure at the sight of his wound, hands turning his torso again to shove him away.

“Y/N, tend to him. I am busy.” She turns back to her work area, instantly engrossed in her weaving project.

Kiri rolls her eyes with a huff, shoving the bowl of finished paste into your chest. Your fingers have barely wrapped around the carved wood and she’s already crossing the tent to start working on something else. Your attention flicks back to the entrance, finding Lo’ak already zeroed in on you.

Your arm sweeps to the side, gesturing for him to sit. He stalks forward, gaze only leaving yours once he’s cross-legged on the floor. You grab a few woven cloths and a bowl of fresh water before padding across the tent.

Slowly, you kneel before him, legs tucking neatly beneath you. A piece of fabric folds into into your palm, corner dipping into the water. When you look up, your breath catches, arm freezing in mid air.

When he looks at you, it’s like he’s ripping you open. Bearing all of your insides, all the things you try so hard to keep tightly locked away. You’ve never met anyone with eyes so piercing. His gaze is powerful, pinning you in place for several long moments before you’re able to snap out of it.

You glance down and lift the wet cloth to his shoulder, gently wiping partially dried blood away. Your gaze flicks to his face briefly before refocusing on the task at hand.

“Looks like that’s healing nicely.”

Lo’ak shifts beneath your feather light touch. He swallows thickly, throat suddenly feeling dry. He’s been thinking about this all day, looking forward to it all day. Now that he sits in front of you, nervousness twists his stomach.

Every single day, for the last three days, he’s found himself in this position. First, a nick on his forehead. Then, a twisted ankle. And now, his shoulder.

It wasn’t not intentional. He wasn’t trying to hurt himself, he just hadn’t been taking any extra precautions to prevent it. You’d been so busy, spending all of your time with his grandmother and sister. He’s tried talking to you in passing, but someone is always there to whisk you away.

Weirdly enough, he found himself craving your presence. He figured the only way to see you was in the Tsahik tent, and he couldn't just walk in and start a conversation.

“How are you settling in?” The question finishes with a grunt as you swipe over a sensitive area.

You merely hum, not wanting to get into it with Kiri and Mo'at only steps away. The two have been kind, and way more welcoming than the rest of the clan, but you still don't feel completely comfortable.

The side of your head burns under the weight of his gaze. Once the front of his shoulder is clean, you're quick to shift toward his back.

It's much easier to focus without his unwavering attention. "What happened this time?"

"Hit some rocks while flying." The strong muscles of his back tense under the cool pressure of the damp cloth.

Soon, the wound is clean, so you reach for the fresh topical paste Kiri just finished. Your fingers dip into the thick liquid, painting it on the edge of the gash marring his skin. He lets out a hiss, jerking away instantly.

"Sit still, prrnen (baby)." Your free hand closes on the space between his neck and shoulder, gently guiding him closer again.

His head lurches toward you, wide eyes searching your face. You send him a playful smirk, and his lips slowly tug into a wide, amused grin. You don't know exactly what possessed you to speak Na'vi in that moment, but you wanted to tease him a bit.

You've heard Mo'at call the extra squirmy clan members that many times while working, so it’s plausible you could've picked up on it.

He hasn’t been the best patient, struggling to sit still each time he’s been in front of you. Though he always tries to hide his discomfort, you easily pick up on the tense muscles and quiet groans that give him away.

“I see you're catching on already.” He's still looking at you, gaze flicking between your features.

Your eyes roll playfully, free hand moving to lightly shove at his chin, pushing his head forward so you can continue applying the paste. Silence returns to the tent, the gentle sounds of chopping and weaving filling the space with a rhythmic droll.

Lo'ak sucks in a quick breath when you get to the center of the wound. You glance around his shoulder, seeing a tense jaw and furrowed brow.

“Am I hurting you?” You remove your hand, pausing to assess his tight expression.

“No, you’re perfect.” His eyes pop open, spine going rigid. “I mean—wiya (damn)—it’s perfect.”

Your lips twist with the effort of keeping a smirk away. With a nod of confirmation, you lean back once again, finishing the process of covering his wound. The second you're done, he bolts to his feet, suddenly eager to leave. He waves a hasty goodbye to the three of you and practically runs from the tent.

Kiri meets your amused expression, eyes rolling to the ceiling knowingly.

Lo'ak is practically skipping through the village.

Aside from his time with you in the Tsahik tent, he's barely had a moment to sit down all day. Now that his chores are finally done, he can’t wait to return to the family tent.

He isn’t one to jump at the chance of sitting around in the shared space, but he has a special weaving project to finish. Excitement bubbles in his chest as he pictures the finished product in his mind.

The clan pays him no mind as he ducks through their evening activities. Dinner is cooking in the center of the gathering area, the delicious smell hitting his nose as he grows closer to Home Tree.

The sudden call of his name makes him stop abruptly. His ears instantly lower at the familiar rough grumble. It doesn't typically mean anything good. He schools his features and turns to see his father, waiting expectantly at the base of the massive structure.

A heavy sigh leaves his lungs before he forces his legs to carry him in that direction.

“Yes, sir?” He easily falls into the position that's expected of him. Straight back, hands clasped, eyes up. Ready to follow orders.

“I've been thinking a lot the last few days.” He wastes no time, arms crossing, a serious expression knotting his face. “As your Grandmother has said, if Y/N is going to stay here, she needs to learn our ways.”

Lo'ak's muscles tense at the sound of your name, interest instantly piqued.

“You're gonna teach her.” Jake watches his son's reaction. Watches the way his eyes widen, lips falling open in pure shock.

“Wha—me? Really?” He's utterly dumbfounded, breath hitching in surprise.

Jake's expression darkens, mistaking his stunned tone for disobedience. He claps a hand on Lo'ak's good shoulder, peering into his eyes pointedly.

“Some responsibility will do you good.”

"But—I thought…?" He doesn't have to finish the sentence for Jake to know exactly what, or who, he's worried about.

“Let me deal with your mother.” His hand pulls away, arms returning to their crossed position over his strong chest.

Lo'ak can't help the wide grin that splits his face, not even if he tried. The idea of spending more time with you, of his dad wanting him to spend more time with you, is invigorating. It makes his heart thump against his ribs with anticipation. He nods quickly and turns to flee, needing to see you right away to share the good news.

"Lo’ak." He's barely made it a few steps when Jake calls his name. He turns, gaze meeting a bright, knowing set of eyes. "I hope you're on the way to help with dinner preparations. And I expect you to keep this arrangement professional. Understood?"

His lips part in protest, but the words die on his tongue when he remembers he's just gotten permission to see you. Talk to you. Teach you. Not pushing his luck is the smartest option, despite how badly he wants to tell you.

“Understood, sir.”

A quiet breath falls through pursed lips.

Your hammock sways gently from side to side, propelled by the warm breeze. You've gotten much more comfortable laying in the woven structure, tired muscles now used to balancing your weight.

Most of the clan around you is fast asleep. It's well into eclipse, but your mind still races. As Jake and Mo’at have made excruciatingly clear, Eywa has chosen you. You’ve been slow to believe it, to accept it, but you’ve had no choice with all their fawning over the last few days.

It doesn’t make sense. You’re nothing but a scientist, an insignificant tiny human born on the wrong moon. Or, you were. A quick glance down at your hands confirms that you are, in fact, still blue.

You shouldn't be here, shouldn't be alive. And yet, Eywa chose you. For some unknown reason. It doesn't seem right to anyone, but especially not to you.

Leaves rustle nearby. Your head pokes up at the unexpected sound, eyes scanning the area. At night, you can’t help but remain on high alert. Though you’re nestled within the safety of Home Tree, surrounded by skilled warriors, you still don’t feel safe. Not from the many creatures that could kill you easily.

The world around you falls into stillness. Tight muscles relax gradually, but before your head can meet the vines supporting your weight, an arm suddenly wraps around the branch next to you.

Your body reacts without consent, lurching upright unsteadily. The hammock sways to the side, nearly throwing you to the ground. Just as you manage to right yourself, another limb joins the first.

Wide eyes watch as a body hoists itself up easily, two arms now locked on the bark to keep their long frame upright.

“Hey there.” Lo'ak's face comes into focus, glowing freckles illuminating a boyish grin.

A hand comes up to soothe against your chest, willing your raging heart to settle.

“What are you doing?” A relieved breath fills the small space he’s left between you. Your own lips pull into a soft smile, noting how goofy he looks, hanging there like a syaksyuk (prolemuris).

“You're not supposed to be seen with me, remember?” The words drop into a whisper as you replay his mothers warning from several days before. You will stay away from our son.

He swings a leg over the branch deftly, easily pulling the rest of his body up to straddle it. Your eyes can't help but track the movement of his hips as he adjusts his weight. His large hands circle the spot in front of him, stabilizing the position.

“Hey, is that any way to talk to your new teacher?” His voice is light, teasing.

“Really?” The second the words register, your gaze snaps up to meet his. Excitement twists your stomach.

Mo'at told you a clan member would be assigned the duty of teaching you the Omatikaya way in the coming days. So far, you’ve avoided thinking about it, anxiety gnawing at you each time the idea floats back in your mind.

You feared it would be someone you'd never met. Someone who wouldn’t be kind, who didn't want you here. Or worse, Neteyam. You never expected for it to be Lo'ak.

“My dad just told me before dinner.” He nods, eyes sparkling against the faint glow of the leaves around you. In an instant he's on his feet, arm extended out toward you. “Come on. I want to show you something.”

You slip your hand into his without hesitation, only realizing as he gently guides you from the hammock that this might not be the best idea.

“Wait, don’t you have a curfew?” Your fingers twitch, but he tightens his hold.

“So?” His head dips, ears twisting mischievously as another grin nearly stops your heart.

Slowly, your expression matches his, and you're off.

“That one. Right there.”

Your finger points toward a glowing dot in the sky. It floats gently back down to your stomach, where it intertwines with your other hand.

Soft blades of grass cushion your back and tickle against your skin with each breath of wind. Bioluminescence surrounds you, the sound of gently flowing water lulling you into calm stillness.

“That is not Earth.” Lo'ak says matter-of-factly, brows furrowing. He lays beside you, arms folded beneath his head.

A scoff falls from your lips. You shift slightly, muscles immediately tensing when your arm brushes against his side. Ignoring the way your heart fluttered pathetically at the brief touch, you squint at the star.

“It so is. Look at how bright it shines.”

“Okay, then what’s that one?” He doesn’t react to the small caress. Instead, he gestures to another bright star, not too far from the one you'd chosen.

Your eyes narrow as they flicker between the two. Slowly, realization dawns.

“Oh, shit.” Your mouth falls open in shock. “Have I been looking at the wrong star my whole life?”

A soft laugh wafts over you, warmth blooming in its wake.

“I think you have, Star Girl.” His head lulls to the side, your new nickname used as a taunt.

You untangle your hands to playfully shove his side. Your gaze never leaves the sky, though you can feel his attention boring a hole through your temple. You’re back at the edge of the same pond he’d shown you several days before. He said it’s the best place in the entire jungle for stargazing.

“Narlor (beautiful)…” His voice is barely above a whisper, but you still catch it.

“What?” Your head jerks to the side, though you try to cover the sudden movement by shifting your position. A moment too late, you remember you aren't supposed to understand what he said. Heat prickles the skin of your face.

“I uh, I said tanhi. It’s the word for star.” The words rush from his mouth as he glances away quickly.

You sit up to brush away a few stray leaves that have blown over your legs, lips twisting into a smile. You don’t bother fixing the hair that falls in your face, grateful for the barrier between you. By the time your attention flicks back to him, your expression is neutral.

“Tanhi.” You repeat with perfect pronunciation.

“Yeah. That’s it.” He chuckles in disbelief, something warm fluttering in his chest. At every turn, you continue surprising him.

At the same moment you relax onto your back, one of his arms extends to the side. Your head ends up landing on his bicep. It instantly tenses beneath you, and you jerk upright again. He pulls it back against his body, scooting away so a few extra inches separate you.

“Fuck, sorry. I didn’t mean…” His eyes are wide as they flick to your face, hoping he hasn't made you uncomfortable.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.” Heat blotches your skin as you peer down at him over your shoulder. A lock of hair falls in front of your ear, partially obscuring your face. His fingers twitch, but he quickly squashes the rising urge to push it back. “I mean, it’s okay with me. If you don’t mind.”

“No. It’s good.” The words rush from his lips in one breath.

Two sets of glittering yellow eyes lock in a silent battle of will. You’re both unsure, nervous even. Neither wants to be the first to move. With a visible swallow, he gently settles back into the earth, arm returning to its outward position.

Tentatively, you uncurl, head nestling into the waiting crook of his elbow. His warmth seeps through you, instantly evoking a content sigh. His stomach flips at the sound. He clears his throat to avoiding letting out any unwanted noises of his own. After a few adjustments, both of you look back to the sky.

You lay beneath the stars for what must be hours. Sometimes, you talk. You ask each other questions, and tell stories from your very different lives. But mostly, you simply enjoy each others company in comfortable silence.

You don’t even realize when your eyes begin drooping, blinks becoming heavier with each passing moment. Within minutes you’re fast asleep.

Lo’ak takes the opportunity to study you. His free hand rises, gently stroking from your temple to the tip of your chin. Your nose scrunches against the light tickle, and he can’t help but smile. His gaze drifts over the glowing freckles on your skin, tracing them like a route on a map.

His fingers brush over the line of your jaw, along the column of your throat. They trail over your shoulder, down your arm, not stopping until they reach your waist. He curls his hand just above your hip, testing out the feel of you in his palm with a gentle squeeze.

Something about it, the way you’re wrapped up with him on the forest floor, feels so right.

It feels like something he’s been missing his entire life. He didn’t know he needed you. Not until you arrived in his home like a gift. A beacon of hope that one day, he might get the one thing he’s never allowed himself to entertain. It’s right there beneath the surface, the potential to receive the kind of love he’s always craved.

It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

He’s quick to follow your lead, falling into a peaceful sleep within seconds.

Taglist:

@bajadotcom @darksxder @fanboyluvr @dakotali @kaymarnun @mxshrooms009 @violet-violenc @neteyamforlife @cleverzonkwombatsludge @dazecrea @lcovelymaria @faeraella @bxbyalixo @nurayastories @emoballs69 @little-bunnybabe @callsignhotshot @idga-fudgeicle

[bonefall]

whats your take on the “palebird not caring about talltail leaving” scene? i always thought it was WEIRD, like yes she was a little distant because she was blatantly depressed, but not to the point where she would straight up not care about her first son leaving potentially forever?? it feels like one of those scenes the writers put in to make the The Woman look bad so the Bad Dad isnt aaaasssss bad.

I feel like many of my problems with it come from the end of TR being a mess. It sets up a ton of plot threads and either goes somewhere strange with them or drops them completely.

Palebird's is one of the ones that just gets dropped.

On one hand, I'm glad that Palebird isn't demonized, but they don't seem to know what to do with her. She's cold towards Tallkit and increasingly short and snippy as he gets older, reacts in a way that's pointed out as aloof and uncaring when he leaves and when he comes back, and Talltail takes it like betrayal when she moves on with a new mate... and then they just don't really have a thesis for that.

In the end, Talltail never stops and teases out his feelings on her, they never show a conversation where some characters talk about why she acts that way, Tallkit's upbringing isn't contrasted with his halfsib's upbringings... their last talk is actually about Shrewclaw and the kits his wife's going to give birth to. Talltail's BULLY.

This book that shows an abusive father and a nasty little jackass redeems both of these boys, making a sharp 180 to say they Weren't So Bad, but has barely any interest in Palebird. When she gives Tallstar one of his 9 lives, it's laughably short;

That's it. That's the resolution. She doesn't even act happy to see him return, they have a conversation about Talltail's bully, and then after she's dead he's like, "I'll never doubt she loves me ever again."

Like, ok? All right?? Did we just miss the falling action or did Ms. Hunter not feel like it that day?

In general I have so many feelings about Tallstar's Revenge... I can't say I HATE it because it is fun to read, and I like a lot of the things it lays down, but I can't LOVE it for how every step forward it feel like 2 steps back. And the differences in the narrative's sympathy towards Sandgorse (emotionally abusive and committing child endangerment because his son is disappointing him) vs his wife Palebird (completely unsupported while displaying a near textbook case of PPD) are like a tiny little microcosm of the problems in WC.

Sandgorse gets a whole journey dedicated towards finding out he was actually a hero who gave his life saving Sparrow, abuse forgotten, but Palebird... exists, and Talltail's mad she had new kids until he's suddenly not.

So in a nutshell, my take is that this soup is bland and watery. Look at all these complicated potential feelings they just cast out the window so they can talk about Shrewclaw the Bully and his Very Sad Death.

There's much better individual examples of how the narrative tends to treat their male and female characters (which is why I compare Sparkpelt and Crookedstar more than I compare Crookedstar and Palebird), but Palebird's a good place to talk about the pervasive disinterest that WC has in its girls. And how much of a waste it is.

[mikobeautifulheart]

5 stages of grief, 2 Anger

Suguru Geto x Reader

TW: Mentions of death and asphyxiation.

"Suguru- Your not really dying are you? This is a prank isn't it, it's not funny." You said with wide eyes, seeing your boyfriend lying up against a wall without his arm.

"It's not a joke." Gojo said from behind you, looking on at the scene.

"No, no you can't die, your a special grade, your one of the strongest" You said through tears.

"Oh common' y/n, can I see a smile before I go?" Geto pushed a smile out watching you silently break down.

"That's not funny Suguru" You said

"I'm sure Gojo has a good joke to make you smile, right Satoru?" He said looking past you now.

"Suguru..."

"Look after her when i'm gone Satoru, sometimes she can get real down, if she ever dose get down just get her her favorite food and tell her she's beautiful." He said breaths growing short.

"Don't close your eyes!" You said going to his side and resting his head on your shoulder.

"Please smile for me?"

You tried to manage the best smile you could before he smiled back at you.

"Thanks y/n. Thanks Satoru" He said before his head hung low deadly still.

"Suguru? Suguru look at me! Come on we can heal you and get you all better again, Suguru!" You said trying to shake him awake.

"Y/N, i'm sorry but he's gone" Gojo reached down and grabbed your arms.

"No. NO. SUGURU WAKE UP, SUGURU."

He never woke up.

***

"Look y/n I know it's hard on you but you can't let it get in the way of our missions" Gojo reached his arm out leaving his hand on your shoulder.

"HE WAS THE ONLY REASON I'M STILL ALIVE-" You shook Gojo's hand off harshly, immediately making it recoil back.

"YOU JUST- YOU DON'T GET IT HE-" You stopped walking.

"He was everything to me." you said voice barley above a whisper.

Eventually you drowned yourself in missions, no one really saw of you at all anymore, some even thought you were dead because you never came back to jujutsu high or kept in contact with them.

***

"Y/N YOU KNOW THATS NOT HIM HES DEAD. Y/N!" Gojo shouted as you stood frozen.

Geto had come back to life.

"Y/n, your on the wrong side dear, i've missed you." His arms were out stretched waiting for you to embrace him.

The urge to run into his arms were to strong, you felt yourself become overwhelmed with tears. You slowly took one step forward toward him.

"Awww don't cry Y/n, smile, I'm sure Satoru has a good joke to make you smile." He said

You stood still as you remembered the moment he left you, saying the exact same words.

"Y/N THATS NOT HIM, ITS NOT THE SUGURU YOU KNOW" Gojo yelled.

"Don't listen to him y/n, he's a little worked up, that's all" 'Geto' said urging you to keep coming toward him.

"I missed you" he said with a wide smile.

***

"Don't listen to him." The same voice said behind you.

"Suguru?" You questioned looking behind you to see your dead lover standing there with a smile.

"But your alive." You said looking at both the Geto's

"No, i'm not. Y/N I died. That's another man in my body." He said walking toward you.

"Your going to have to kill my body." He said, still smiling until he reached you.

"Suguru, i-i-i can't, its still you, I can't kill you!" you said feeling your heart painfully shrink.

"But it's not me, if you want to save everyone and who's left, you need to kill my body."

"No, I can't do that Suguru!" Tears streamed down your face.

"Why can't someone else do it?" You said though sobs.

"No one else is strong enough and Satoru is stuck, you need to help him."

"Sugu-ru" you said through tears as he closed the space between you, holding you close.

"I trust you y/n, your going to have to do this okay? I believe in you."

"Please don't leave" You said muffled in his chest.

"I'll always be here for you, you'll never be alone. Every one is here for you." You looked up and he flashed a smile at you.

He stepped back, still holding onto your hands.

"I love you y/n" he said

"I love you too-" You said before he seemed to dissolve into the darkness.

***

"Suguru...no he's dead, my Suguru died along time ago" You said your hands making fists in anger.

"So who are you?!" You said, knuckles turning white.

"Awww there you go ruining it all again Satoru, I was so close."

You noticed the scar running all around the top of Geto's head, he really was someone else now.

"I'm Kenjaku but im glad i found your lovers body, perhaps the best one I've had in centuries." he siad

"You took Suguru." You said glaring at him.

"No, i'm simply finishing off the work he set out to do, until he was killed by your friend here." he said pointing at Satoru.

"Y/N You know I had no choice, I had to okay just don't listen to him!" Gojo said.

"I'm not" You mumbled before lunging forward summoning a cursed weapon.

Before you could stab him his arm reached out and grabbed your throat. He squeezed your throat so tight you felt like your head was going to explode.

"Y/N" Gojo yelled.

Your eyes were closing and your eyelids were getting heavier.

"I'm sorry, Suguru" You said before driving the knife into his chest. You felt the hand grip your throat tighter knowing you missed the heart.

That was it you were going to die here in your dead lovers arms. You looked at his face one more time until you noticed his expression going blank. 'Geto's' other hand pushed the weapon in deeper making the hand around your throat let go. You fell to the ground, both you and Satoru looked on as Geto seemed to gain control of his arm.

"I'm sorry" You coughed out as you tried to sit up on the floor.

"YOU RAT" Kenjaku said trying to take the weapon away.

"I tried my best Suguru, I tried." You said before finding your body to heavy to move.

***

"y/n, can you hear me?" A voice said.

It recognised it as Geto's.

"Yeah...I'm sorry, I failed you." you stayed laying on the floor with your eyes closed.

"No, you got closer then anybody else has. Your doing so well but your going to have to open your eyes for me." It said.

"No"

"Please, you have to finish the job."

"I can't do that again Suguru" you said.

"You have to, for me."

"How could you leave me? First you leave now you want me to kill your body? DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD THAT IS!" You screamed burying your face into your arm.

"I WANTED TO DIE, I DIDN'T WANT TO LIVE WITH OUT YOU BUT YOUR STUPID PROMISE, I WANT TO HATE YOU BUT I CAN'T!"

there was silence and you felt a jabbing pain in your arm.

"AHH" You yelled in pain before hissing.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry y/n, I never wanted to leave you."

"But if you knew you'd die...I know you would change." You said gritting your teeth.

Another painful poke ran through your system.

"AHHH NO, NO YOU BETRAYED ME! HOW COULD YOU?" you screamed.

"Y/N I DIED. I died doing what I thought was right, but if you die it would be because of me, and that's not right. I'm sorry for leaving you but you can't die because of me"

You moved your arm out the way and looked up, the room was a bright white and there he was, reaching his hand out to you.

"I'm sorry" He said

"But you need to open your eyes."

"Suguru. I." you paused and so did your hand.

"I forgive you." You said, tears already long gone.

He looked at you and gave an guilty grin as you finally took his hand and was taken aback by the bright light.

"Y/N! Your awake!" Gojo said at the side of your bed.

"Gojo? What happened?" You asked groggily

"You nearly died, not even reversed technique would work on you, its a miracle that you survived." He said with a worried look.

"Yeah." You whispered.

"I'm going to kill that son of a bitch."

THANK YOU FOR READING ♡

AUTHORS NOTE: Welp that's over the next one is up soon, Gojo and bargaining. All 5 stages will be up on my master list under the series section. have a good whatever time and feel free to request something if you want a specific character and stage. reblogs r welcomed.

[malewifeharem]

YK I WAS TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHAT OM STOOD FOR.. ANYWAY CAN WE GET BELPHIE IN THE YAN ALPHABET HOUSE PLEASE :3 ☁️

yandere!belphegor alphabet

彡- ,, yandere om! belphegor alphabet (template from @dear-yandere eheheheh)

cw ⁞ OMSWD CHAPTER 16 SPOILERS, death threats, violence, manipulation, just general yandere behaviour??? not proofread.

an ⁞ lmk if there are any other warnings i should add!

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

he loves cuddling and napping with you. it may not seem like he loves you — the only sign of affection you receive, being cuddles and naps. but trust me, his love for you is INTENSE... he has slaughtered many people for you. past lovers, bullies, any and all who have wronged you.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

he's willing to eliminate anyone for you. it can get very messy... lucifer has had to call for help to clean up evidence before. although his older brother tries his best to clean up after him, word still got out about the youngest's aggressive tendencies — simply because he leaves too many crime scenes behind, it's almost impossible to clean them all in such a short time. he's probably thought of eradicating the whole of purgatory hall and diavolo's castle too.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

100%. you've heard him call you the meanest names before. he will always remind you of your place as a human —you'll always be inferior to him, like his little pet.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

putting you to sleep when and wherever he likes. arguing with him? go to sleep, maybe you'll start talking sense when you wake. out in public? he suddenly feels like you've spent too long outside, go to sleep, he'll take you home.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

he doesn't tell you much, other than reports of only some of his victims. he keeps most of his carnal, deranged thoughts to himself. you're still well aware of his mania through his actions but you'll never know how deep his violent rabbit hole goes.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

if he's in a good mood, he might play along, just don't take it too far. if he's not, he'll lazily warn you first. if that doesn't work, he'll threaten you — reminding you of what he's done, what he can always do. if you decide to continue being a 'brat', he won't hesitate to wring your neck — not too harshly, he still needs to keep you around.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

he thinks it's amusing. he forces you test his limits and wear skimpy clothes out and visit the dangerous places he's warned you about. he'll let you go out and 'have your fun' but he's stalking your every move — like you're his prey. he likes feeling jealous of the other people around you so he can 'reclaim' you back at home. (read N for what happens at home hehe)

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

you went too far with your 'teasing' one night and it ended in him strangling you with his tail again. you were seeing all black, your struggling limbs almost giving out on you. you genuinely thought you were going to succumb to the same demon again, but he eventually let go of you. it took you awhile to recover — laying on the floor, having a coughing fit and your vision still barely coming back. he stared down at you before letting out a satisfied "hmph." maybe you'll learn your lesson this time.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

believe it or not, he does imagine marriage with you. you, walking down the aisle in a beautiful wedding dress, towards him. he'll prepare a ring for you once you've settled down with him and stop fighting back. (he won't be doing any chores in the rs)

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

he stirs up his own feelings of jealousy so it's kind of his fault. he likes possessing you and claiming you as his. whether or not its by punishments or marking you physically. (should i make a nsfw continuation of this...?)

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

he loves the scent of you —stealing pieces of your clothing to smell and sleep with. he'll stick his nose as deep into your neck as he can to get the essence of you into his system. this is part of why he loves cuddling and napping with you too — holding you closely and wrapping his tail and limbs around you.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

he does get broody if you hang out around other people other than beel. anyone else from HoL, purgatory hall and especially diavolo and barbatos are completely off limits to you. before he started acted aggressively, he would defensively lurk around you to make sure no one got too affectionate with you. when you notice him, he has to clutch his shirt to stop his thumping heart from beating out of his chest. surely this means you appreciate his protection!

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

nope. he acts aggressively towards everyone but beel. everyone close to the brothers are aware of his hostility and have tried reasoning with him before but has basically given up. diavolo has tried restraining the youngest brother again but lucifer has promised to keep his violence at bay.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

oh... he's cruel. if he's lenient, he'll give you nightmares in your sleep. if you've been disobedient, good luck... he'll wrap his tail around your neck, giving it a tight squeeze — reminding you of your previous end. you never know if he'll actually take your life again — that's what's most scary. he knows how much it terrifies you but he's a demon baby, it's what they do.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

your health is constantly at risk after your body has had to endure multiple chokings but proper healthcare isn't available to you. the only medication you'll get is some ointment meant for demon burns.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

it depends on his mood. he's very unpredictable, with his patience levels fluctuating very often — making him all the more dangerous.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

he would be in a state of pure disbelief for months, hallucinating and dreaming versions of you. then, he'll move onto finding ways to bring you back or pray that you'll return back to him in hell. (we all goin to hell for even reading this bffr)

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

although he lets you roam around devildom somewhat freely, he'll never completely let go of you. you're his to keep and possess.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

being locked up in the attic created attachment issues in him. he finds a need to claim you and feel wanted by you. when you come running back to him, he feels euphoria — even if you're forced to.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

he feels uneasy, not knowing how to confront the situation directly so he uses the only method he knows. putting you to sleep is the easiest way for him to sedate you and calm you down. isolating yourself breaks his heart but he'll try his best to break your defensive stance and get you to come and cuddle to ease the tension away.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

(i'll skip this since i still dont't know the definition of a classic yandere TT)

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

if you could somehow find a way to possess a spell book, you could try finding a way to create a clone of you while the real you goes to find diavolo or barbatos. they have the authority and power to guard you from him and lock him back in that attic. lucifer will definitely be disappointed that he's failed to protect you again but you've had enough.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

yes. (read F and N)

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

he treasures whatever affection you spare him and he secretly worships the ground you walk on. he doesn't try to win you over because there is no one for him to compete for him the begin with! none of them can fight him if they're all six feet below ground.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

he could only stand watching you from afar for a few months before snapping. he couldn't go on any longer without you in his room, in his arms, under his control and claim.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

yes yes yes and yes. he doesn't care if you lose your mind, then you'll be even more susceptible to his manipulation. you'll be much more obedient and finally stop whining and struggling all the damn time!

[thecollectivefixation]

POPPY PLAYTIME chapter 3: Deep Sleep

WHATS UP GUYS It’s Queen here! I know it’s been awhile but I could NOT sit still after watching a gameplay of the new POPPY PLAYTIME chapter. Let’s just say I have got a lot to talk about and some possible theories 😼

__

Alright so, chapter 2 ended with us (the protagonist) and Poppy, who we thought betrayed us, crashing the train near Playcare. Chapter 3 begins with the aftermath of the crash or perhaps just a little after it, since the cutscene starts of with us being held by catnap and then being thrown into a trash compactor which is slowly closing in on us.

[Catnap throwing us down]

Now as the chapter further progresses, we run into plenty, PLENTY of different monsters that us as the protagonist must defeat in order to progress to the next part. However, as we know from chapters 1 and 2, there is always a tape that will help us with little clues and hints of the story along the way.

Also i can’t help but talk about the DETAILS in this game like how we can see catnap constantly stalking us around the map?

[Catnap stalking us]

Oh my lord I got the shivers when i first saw him in the corner of my eye. The fact that he appears for a like a millisecond each time, NUH UH.

ALSO WHO THE HECK IS OLLIE LIKE THAT KID SOUND SUSPICIOUS AS. But oh well at least he’s helping us get through the game……….. right? 😄☝️

Alright continuing on, we had little hints and snippets of the backstory and lore in the other chapters, however we never really got the explanation of what truly happened to playtime co. And all our fellow employees along with it. I still cannot believe that the protagonist is the last surviving employee I mean what about that letter in the first chapter?

[Letter from Poppy Playtime chapter 1]

(Also another theory that It may have been a lure by the prototype.) and the fact that the only reason the protagonist survived was because they didn’t go to work ‘that’ day…. GUYS😭💪

The story starts to thicken as we learn about the smiling critters which include the oh-so terrifying creature, Catnap.

One of the tapes in this chapter tell us how Catnap’s real name is Theo, short for Theodore. Theo was actually a child at the Playtime co. ‘orphanage’ who was further named as ‘experiment #1188’ otherwise known as Catnap. We also come to learn that Theo/Catnap worships the Prototype (aka experiment 1006) and sees him as his god, his saviour. Which can be understood since Theo had a near-death experience and apparently the prototype saved him. (This was before he was turned into Catnap.)

So obviously, as the protagonist we end up defeating Catnap at the end of chapter 3, and remember how the prototype appeared to drag away the remains of Mummy long legs’ body? Well here we go again guys. After we electrocuted Catnap and he was set aflame, the prototype appeared as a sort of ‘saviour’ for Catnap.

There are many theories on this scene, about whether the Prototype was offering help, or whether he was actually planning to kill Catnap all along. But with the way Catnap was kneeling and almost sort of worshipping the prototype, it was like he was accepting death.

[Catnap kneeling before the Prototype]

We all know already that Catnap worships the prototype, as heard from the tapes and seen in one of the scenes. Including from the trailer.

[Scene from the trailer]

So this should be obvious. Catnap wanted to be made as part of the prototype, and in his final moments he still worshipped him as best he could. The prototype, after possibly collecting Huggy wuggys body, then dragging away Mummy long legs body, and now finally, Catnaps body, is perhaps using all these creatures to form himself an indestructible body, which us as the protagonist, will have to be prepared to face one day.

[The prototype dragging Mummy's body away in chapter 2]

Guys the prototype is so freaky LIKE IMAGINE SEEING A METAL SPIKY HAND SLOWLY CRAWL UP TO YOU IN REAL LIFE BYEEEEE

As an employee, we knew the experiments were taking hold. We came back 10 years after the downfall of Playtime co. Because perhaps we felt guilty? Or was it all just for the truth of what went on ‘that’ day? All these poor children were being experimented on to become live mascot creatures, and now we are after the truth of what happened and we have finally understood one important part of what truly happened.

This is when ‘The hour of Joy’ comes in.

[The hour of Joy tape]

In the end of chapter 3, Poppy feels the need to finally tell us the truth and she shows us a tape which we are inclined to watch. The tape reveals the experiments (the creatures) rampaging inside the Playtime co. Facility and killing all the employees that are present.

[Playtime co. Employees dead, sprawled around the floor]

The tape includes: Huggy Wuggy, Mummy long legs, the little smiling critter creatures, numerous Miss Delights, Kissy Missy, Boxy boo and Catnap.

The tape can be watched here.

With this tape, we learn that the experiments started a rebellion against the employees on the day ‘The Hour of Joy’ occured which was August 8th, 1995 (keep in mind that the game occurs 10 years later, now in 2005.) The rebellion was led by the Prototype, and he used the toys to lead the rebellion, making sure every employee, no matter if guilty or innocent, was to be murdered in cold blood.

Now the reveal of this tape and especially the backstory of what happened to all the employees is INSANE. My bones were quaking from how well the plot was put together and how the story turned out even more darker than we had thought. It’s crazy how all these children placed in the orphanage were used as guinea pigs for a sick experiment. There’s another theory that Poppy used to be Elliot Ludwigs (the founder and overseer of playtime co.) daughter. And the experiments started with her since she apparently passed away and Elliot wanted his daughter back so he had her be experimented on and she become the doll, Poppy.

[Poppy, the doll]

Also a theory that is circling around is that us, the protagonist, who used to work at Playtime co., was actually an important executive who had a big role in the experiments that were going on. Which is CRAZYYYY like the story is slowly getting revealed to us bit by bit as we progress through each chapter.

Anyway the game, the LORE is crazy y’all. WHAT’S MORE IS THE ENDING OF THIS CHAPTER… HELLO??? THE CLIFFHANGER. Honestly thought that Poppy was gonna betray us again BUT NUH UH. WHAT HAPPENED TO KISSY MISSY??? WHY DID IT SOUND LIKE HUGGY WUGGY WAS THERE AND oh my lord looks like we’ll have to find out, IN THE NEXT CHAPTER! DUN DUN DUN!!!!!!!!

— Queen.

[joshsindigostreak]

I See Hell in Your Eyes

Chapter Seven

“Our hearts are wrong.”

Josh Kiszka x Vampire!Reader

Authors Note: A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE!!! So sorry for the delays y’all working retail around the holidays is absolute Hell. Enjoy this little chapter before we begin the new year with the *real* plot of this little universe. Buckle up.

Word Count: 4778

Warnings: Violence, death, mentions of past abuse (but it is very brief and not dwelled on), SMUT at the end but nothing too graphic or crazy.

The emotions you felt as Josh drove the both of you to the location Jake texted him were conflicting. Part of you was annoyed that you didn’t get to curl up in your bed with your hunter after that shower, another part of you loved how cozy you felt in his car; hand secured on your thigh. But another part of you, the loudest part, was reminding you of your reality. If Jake was telling the truth, and he indeed caught whomever in the act, that would mean Josh would be one step closer in closing his case. The hypotheticals of what would happen after that case was closed taunted you. The only reason he showed up in your city was to find the Vampire in question and get rid of them. Once that happened, there would be nothing tying him to the city anymore. He could pack all of his things in the very Jeep you were sitting in, and drive back west with his family. He could go back to his everyday life, get assigned another “job” and take off for the next adventure.

But what about you?

Josh could feel the muscles in your thigh tensing as you battled your own thoughts, and his thumb rubbed circles into your skin. He glanced over at you curiously, wishing he could know what you were thinking. You were absently staring out the window, brows furrowing every other minute as if you were arguing with yourself. He too, was a little miffed your little rendezvous at your apartment was cut short due to his twin.

“Hey,” he broke the silence, his voice soft, “where do you keep going, over there?”

You shook your head slightly, braving a smile at him, “nowhere…just tired.”

He wasn’t fully convinced, but didn’t want to argue, “well, after we finish seeing Jake’s little show-and-tell we can go back to your place and you can show me how cozy that bed nook of yours is before sunrise…”

Your mouth tilted up into a smirk, “are you becoming nocturnal for me, Boy Scout?”

This caught him off guard, was he? He let out a breath through his nose and disguised it with a chuckle. He squeezed your thigh again, smiling as he felt the muscles in your leg relax.

It didn’t take long to reach the street corner Jake had texted Josh; a narrow side street with one way traffic. You looked around to see how many people were on the street, and were relieved when it was practically deserted at this time of night. As Josh parked next to the curb, a very impatient looking Jake stepped out from an alley between the two main buildings on the block.

“Took you long enough,” he said, rolling his eyes as you exited the vehicle.

“We’re here, aren’t we?”

Jake opened his mouth to argue more, but stopped and huffed out, “just…come on.” He turned on his heel to lead the two of you back into the alley he had just come from. It was fairly empty as far as alley’s go, but what hit you as you followed Jake was the smell of human blood. The scent was so strong you quickly pinpointed it to be O Positive, and that there was a lot of it. Your gums itched at the smell, and you were thankful you had topped yourself off with a blood bag before you left your apartment. Josh had volunteered to help you, but you refused as you still felt it was too soon since the incident at the Den.

The scene that unfolded before you, as Jake led you further down the alley, shouldn’t have shocked you as much as it did, but it stopped you in your tracks. Leaning up against the brick wall was a man appearing to be in his forties, maybe late thirties, with a substantial wound on the side of his neck. Blood was pouring out of him quickly, staining his clothes and starting to puddle next to him. CiCi was crouched down next to him, mumbling what you thought were spells under her breath, trying to heal him. The man didn’t have much time at all, but the only thing to give him a chance was if he drank some of your blood.

Shaking off your nerves, and trying to control how you felt around that much blood, you quickly moved around Jake and crouched down on the other side of him. With a brief look at your hunter, you bit down onto the flesh of your wrist, breaking the skin over the veins and tendons. CiCi backed out of the way, realizing what you were doing. Quickly but gently you took the man's jaw into your hand and pried his mouth open. He was barely conscious, but he was able to barely open his eyes in confusion.

“Trust me you’ll thank me later,” you explained as you curled your hand into a fist, allowing the blood to drip from your wrist into his mouth. The man tried to fight it at first but as soon as the coppery liquid hit his tongue, he lifted his mouth higher to get closer to you. It was a little known secret that Vampire blood was a delicacy among humans. Not only for its healing properties, but because it was the downer of all downers. Supposedly it put humans into such a relaxed state, time would almost slow down for them. Because of this, it was highly addictive, but you didn’t have much of a choice.

“What happened?” Josh questioned.

“We were walking back to the car from-” Jake started, but Josh cut him off.

“Please tell me he took you to dinner,” he gave a pointed look at CiCi.

The witch gave the older twin an exasperated look, “yes he did. It was lovely.”

You were still giving the man blood but you were curious, “where did you go?”

“That little Italian restaurant around the corner? ‘Casa Oliva’?”

Your eyebrows shot up, “oh I’ve heard good things about that place!”

“Can we focus here?” Jake interjected.

You turned back to the man, seeing that your blood was slowly working to heal his gaping wound. The man started to stir as he healed and you kept your other hand on his shoulder to keep him still. The last thing you needed was for him to bolt without getting Persuaded to forget any of this happened. As soon as his neck fully closed, you took your wrist away from his mouth and let it heal itself at your side.

Looking him in the eyes, your Persuasion dripped from your voice, “tell me what happened.”

He focused entirely on you as he spoke, “I was walking home…and I kept feeling like I was being followed, but every time I turned around no one was there. The next thing I knew, I was dragged back here and he was…biting me…she tried to get him off of me but…,” the man's voice gave out slightly.

“What did they look like?”

“Young…I think…it was pretty dark? She kept telling him he was taking too much, too fast, but he wasn’t listening.”

You nodded and looked back at Jake and Josh over your shoulder. Before you could voice your assumptions, an old friend's familiar pleading echoed in the alley.

“Ethan no, we have to go home, I have bags for you there,” the sound of heels scraping on pavement was harsh, and clear she was trying to hold him back. It was just what you feared, and suspected. But you needed to get this human out of harm's way.

You locked eyes with him again, “go home and forget any of this happened. Don’t question the blood on your clothes, just throw them out. Nothing out of the ordinary happened tonight.” The man looked a little dazed but nodded, and you helped him up quickly. He stumbled slightly as he exited the alley, but you were sure he’d be ok the closer he got to his home.

Jake looked at you skeptically, “that's it?”

“Trust me he’ll be-”

Before you could finish, the lumbering steps of Ethan got even closer to the group, and you squared your shoulders in preparation. He emerged from the other end of the alley, with a frantic Monica trying her best to pull him in the other direction. His mouth and neck were covered in blood, and showed just how ravenous he had been while feeding. Behind you, Jake pulled out two stakes out of his inner jacket pocket, quickly handing one to his twin. CiCi stood up from her crouched position and took her place next to Jake.

Monica recognized you instantly and the relief on her face was evident even from a distance, “it's ok! I’m just taking him home!”

Ethan looked down at the ground where the human once was and his features twisted angrily at you, “what did you do?”

You scoffed, “I would ask you the same question but its all over your fucking neck and clothes.”

“I wasn’t done with him.”

Monica tugged even harder on his arm, her own Vampiric strength failing her against him, “yes you were and we were going home…”

“Enough,” he shouted and pushed her off of him, sending her backwards a few feet. He turned back and saw Josh behind you, his eyes shining with curiosity, “I guess it's ok…he’ll do...”

“The fuck you will,” knowing exactly what he was wanting to do, you met him halfway and tried to shove him against the brick wall closest to you. Your age worked in your favor, as being over three centuries older than Ethan meant you were far stronger than him. But true bloodlust is a powerful thing, and it was obvious that was Ethan’s problem. He shoved you off of him, sending you to the ground, before running right for Josh. He tackled him to the ground quickly, happening way too fast for anyone else to properly react.

Josh was using all the strength he had to keep Ethan from nipping at his neck, and he tried to roll him over to gain control but was unsuccessful. He managed to wedge the hand that was holding the stake flat against his own chest, using Ethan’s distracted state to his advantage. With one last forceful push, the hunter was able to flip the stake up and directly into the center of Ethans chest. A shocked look overcame the Vampire’s features, and the familiar yellow tinge invaded the white of his eyes, and his skin turned an ashy gray. Ethan’s death rattle wasn’t any different from the other Vampire’s Josh had slain, but part of him couldn’t help but feel sorry for the bastard. Once he was fully limp Josh shoved him off of him, dusting himself off.

You breezed past the dead Vampire and instantly had your hunter’s face in your hands, checking all over for any scratches or injuries. His neck was unharmed, which flooded your body with relief that Ethan never actually sank his teeth in him. Josh’s expression was calm in a way you had never seen before, as if what just happened didn’t phase him.

“I’m fine, sweetheart, I’ve been through worse,” he whispered to you as his hands slid around and under your shirt, feeling the skin of your lower back. The implication of his words didn’t exactly comfort you, but you were glad that he seemed alright as your thumbs gently rubbed circles on the hinges of his jaw.

Jake looked at the two of you, not knowing how to feel watching a Vampire comforting his twin after another one had just tried to kill him. Josh was right, they had faced far more in their lives, but he still didn’t like how close that was.

A distraught Monica scrambled over to her lover’s corpse. Clutching his shirt and sobbing into his impaled chest. She looked up and over at you and Josh, eyes red with tears, “you…your Human Companion was a fucking hunter?”

You whipped your head around at her, “Monica I-”

“They’d have you Meet the Sun for that, you know that right?” She sniffed, tone flat and emotionless. “Leading one of them into a Den, and letting him kill one of us?”

You shook your head, “Ethan was dangerous, Monica and you kn-”

“HE DIDN’T HAVE TO KILL HIM!” she shrieked, letting go of his shirt.

“He didn’t have a choice, he was out of control,” you reasoned.

Monica wasn’t having it, and before any of you could react she lunged at Josh herself, but this time it was Jake that got between them first. It was almost graceful in the way he stepped between them, stake in hand and pointed at Monica. She was so overcome with rage she wasn’t paying attention, and quite literally ran into the stake herself, the wood plunging into her chest easily. Her shocked gasp was the last noise she made before crumbling to the ground.

Your eyes burned, hating that it ended this way. Monica’s biggest crime was being so lonely she turned the first person who gave her an ounce of attention. But Vampires like Ethan aren’t meant to exist. They’re not built for this life. This was why Dimitri was so selective in who got turned.

“We umm…we need to get rid of their bodies…,” you wobbled out.

“The sun will be up soon, I can take them out of town to burn,” Jake suggested.

Josh nodded in agreement, “need some help?”

Jake looked down at his watch and shook his head, “no we can handle it. The sun will be up in a couple hours, wouldn’t want you out too late…”

Josh opened his mouth to make a smart ass reply, but CiCi reached out and touched his arm, “it's fine, I promise.”

You gave one last look at Monica’s corpse before following Josh out of the alley, wanting to get back to your place as soon as possible.

~!~

You didn’t fully relax until the door to your apartment was firmly locked shut. Josh followed you into your living room as you collapsed onto your couch, worried about how quiet you had been since the alley. He sat down next to you and gathered you in his arms, feeling a little out of his depth with what had just happened. He always prided himself in his emotional intelligence, but there were layers to this situation that he, as a human, didn’t fully understand.

As soon as you felt his strong arms wrap around your shoulders, you buried your face into his neck, inhaling his scent. His entire presence was a comfort to you now, a plot twist you never saw coming.

“I’m sorry about Monica…I know she was your friend…,” he said carefully.

You sniffed sadly, “she should’ve known better…she was over one hundred years old. But it's always a gamble when you turn someone. Not every human can handle a second life. There’s a reason we’re so selective in who we turn. Vampire’s like Ethan aren’t an isolated incident, as you, a hunter, would know. Anyone who comes out of the first decade of being a Vampire, even partially well adjusted, is lucky, honestly.” He nodded, gently resting his cheek on the top of your head. “Looking back, it’s amazing I even survived those first few years…”

“Was it that bad,” he asked softly.

“My Maker wasn’t…he was hands-on in all the wrong ways,” your voice sounded far off, as if you were drifting back into memories you weren’t fond of. Josh’s entire body stiffened at the implication, and heat started radiating from his hands, causing you to sit up quickly, “no…not like that…it’s just, he didn’t actually teach me how to be a Vampire. He’d parade me around, showing me how to find humans, how to manipulate them into feeding on them, but that was it. He didn’t teach me control, in fact he wasn’t interested in that at all. He liked things…messy, and when you’re that young and new, you don’t know any better. It’s so easy to get swept up into the “cool” parts of Vampirism that you fail to think about the less than glamorous parts. The shitty thing is, Ethan had a Maker who wanted to show him all the right things, how to live properly, how to blend in with society…but he just wasn’t cut out for any of it.”

He hated the way your eyes looked so sad and distant, with tears threatening to bubble up at any moment. His mind revisited his plans to find your Maker and force him to Meet the Sun himself, but he shook the thoughts away and focused entirely on you. In the time he had known you, you had never looked small in your body language. You always had a presence about you that filled an entire room, with a smile to match. But now? Now you looked tiny on your couch, head hung low as you rubbed your nose, feet tucked underneath you. It struck him that you hadn’t even called him Boy Scout in hours. He glanced up at the clock you had hanging on the wall, noting the time.

Softly, he reached over to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before offering, “hey, how much blood did you give that man?”

You leaned into his touch and shrugged, “I’m not sure I was just focusing on closing that wound in his neck. Why?”

His expression softened, “Just…do you need a pick-me-up after that? How does blood loss affect Vampires?”

Your eyes met his, suddenly feeling rather vulnerable under his gaze, “I heal pretty fast.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

Your lower lip disappeared between your teeth, and you remembered that the one bag you had downed before going back out had been the last bag in your fridge. Your hunter's heartbeat was growing louder in your head, and your gums started to itch. But no, it still felt too soon since the Den. Human fragility was the least of your concern, but when it came to the brown eyed man sitting on your couch, you couldn’t help but keep it in the back of your mind at all times.

Shaking your head, “it's still too soon, I’ll be alright until tomorrow-”

“I’m a lot tougher than you think, Sweetheart.”

You stared at him, eyes looking him up and down, mulling it over. He was right, he was tougher than he let on, but you were just scared of hurting him.

“Fine. But not a lot,” you relented shifting on the couch.

He smiled at you, already anticipating the feeling of your fangs buried in his skin. Your own expression brightened as he pulled you into his lap. You adjusted your position until you were firmly straddling him, and he reached up and grazed his thumb against the side of your mouth.

“Take what you need,” he all but whispered. The way he spoke to you sent chills down your spine, and caused your eyes to darken. Instinctively you leaned forward and nuzzled his neck, the scent of his gorgeous blood overwhelming your senses. You planted an open mouthed kiss on his neck, feeling his pulse underneath your lips. He shivered slightly underneath you, his hands flexing against your hips. You stilled, your breath fanning against his skin. He gave you one more squeeze before his thumbs started rubbing circles into your skin, letting you know he was ready. Your eyes fluttered shut as your fangs extended from your gums and locked into place. Unable to hold back any longer you surged forward, piercing his skin in expertise. A moan rattled out of his mouth, and he threw his head back as best he could. You smiled against his skin as you took your first pull. This time both of you moaned as his blood flooded your mouth. That citrusy tang hit your tongue first, then the vanilla snuck in, nearly taking over. There was something so bright about his blood, a flavor profile that was so uniquely him. It took all of your self control to not gulp him down.

He was practically writhing underneath you, loving every second of it. Any pain from the bite was eclipsed by the sheer pleasure that coursed through his system. He pulled you down harder onto his lap, desperate for some kind of friction. He didn’t care how needy he acted or sounded, if you were the cause he couldn’t help it. The feeling was heightened when he felt some stray blood trail down his neck. He could never get enough of his Vampire.

~!~

Twenty miles north, give or take, a hunter and his Witch were placing the bodies of two dead Vampires in a shallow pit he had dug minutes prior. The sky was getting lighter and lighter as the sun raced to the horizon, and their task of disposing of the bodies would be complete. Jake had been silent for most of the trip, trying to digest the absolute shit show the last two days had been for him.

CiCi knew what was bothering him, and carefully said, “stop over thinking, he was fine.”

He turned to her, “this time. He doesn’t realize just how vulnerable he is walking around like her glorified juice box.”

“It’s a lot more between them and you know it.” Jake scoffed and tried to turn back to the horizon, but CiCi’s hand caught his chin and turned him back to her, “you can’t deny how he was looking at her the entire time.”

“That’s what scares me. I know him, he never does anything halfway, I can tell he’s all in on…whatever they have…and I also know that it’ll be me to pick up the pieces should it blow up in his face,” his eyes burned into hers.

“He could probably say the same thing about you, my love.”

“You’re not-”

“...exactly human either, am I? I still haven’t met your parents because of it.”

“I just don’t see how it's going to work for them. She seems…alright but I don’t trust her.”

“Maybe this means you’re going to have to trust Josh. He didn’t even hesitate to put down that one,” she gestured to the corpse in the pit before her.

Before Jake could counter, the sun breached the horizon, its golden rays spreading across the field. Within minutes, the two corpses were engulfed in flames, the putrid smell filling the air. He reached into his inner jacket pocket, and pulled out a small cigar. It was a habit he started years ago, when he and Josh started going out on their own to hunt. He crouched down in front of the flames, leaning forward to light it before standing back up wrapping his arm around his Witch’s waist.

“It's so morbid that you do that.”

“You like it though,” he said, smirking at her.

She tried glaring at him, but her own muscles failed her as a smile slowly spread across her face. It didn’t take long for the bodies to be turned into ashes, and the two of them filled the pit back in to leave no trace. In Jake’s mind, the one good thing about Vampires was how easy it was to dispose of them. As long as you had the sun, the rest was easy. The sun was a hunter’s best friend, and one of the few constants Jake could rely on.

~!~

But as the trail of clothes leading to your bedroom suggested, your own hunter’s feelings towards the sun weren’t the same anymore. The two of you were safely tucked into your bed nook, curtains tightly shut and the wall sconces inside were turned on, giving a warm glow to the little nest. He had you underneath him, slowly and deeply pistoning his hips into yours. He was leaning on one elbow next to your head, while the other hand was tucked under your ass, gripping your cheek to get you as close to him as possible. His lips never left your skin, peppering kisses all over your face and neck, occasionally nipping at your flesh with his teeth. Your own arms were wrapped around his back, digging your nails into his muscles whenever he’d hit a particular spot deep inside you. This time with him was different. It was slower, more relaxed, as if he wanted to make a point to take his time with you.

A lot was weighing on his mind but he didn’t want you to pick up on it. The case he had been working on the last few months was officially closed, and therefore his initial reason for even being in your city was over with. Now that he had you, he didn’t want to leave, and he didn’t know how to break it to Jake. He wasn’t going to ask you to uproot your life and go back with him, especially now that he knew just how much you loved it here. But right now, he was shoving all those thoughts into a corner of his mind so he could properly focus on you. He was committing every sigh, moan, and cry of his name to memory. The way the slick heat of your walls gripped him, how your ankles locked together perfectly on his back, the way your hands gripped his hair as your lips devoured him. All of it was finding a permanent place in his brain.

You were doing much of the same, mesmerized by your lover above you. The birds and ambient street noise was filtering into your room as the world woke up. But the light from your wall sconces were casting a warm glow around Josh, nearly giving him a halo of light. It was rare that you genuinely missed the sun itself, as you had a difficult relationship with the wretched thing. But being wrapped up with Josh was probably the closest you had ever been to gentle daylight in the three centuries you had been alive.

His brows furrowed together in concern when he saw your eyes well up with stubborn tears, “you ok?”

You sniffed, willing your tears to stay in your eyes, “never better, Boy Scout.”

He smiled and captured your lips with his, speeding up his movements. It wasn’t long before you were both crying out, reaching your highs together.

Before you could even think about getting up, Josh was slowly detangling his limbs from yours to carefully pull back the curtain to gauge where the sun was in your room. Thankfully your nook was positioned in a way that kept it out of direct light, but he still barely gave himself enough room to slide out of bed and quickly shut the curtain behind him. You giggled at his attentiveness and listened to his footsteps sprint around the room as he shut your other curtains, blocking out the sun. The curtain to your bed slowly opened, revealing your smirking hunter.

After round two in the shower, you were back in your bed cuddled up with Josh. Sleep overtook you both, and the rest of the day was spent wrapped up in each other’s arms.

However, the peaceful slumber was interrupted by someone pounding on your door. Groggily you sat up at the sound, and looked at the time on your phone and the weather widget on the home screen. A low temperature and a crescent moon greeted you, letting you know the sun was fully down and it was safe.

Josh stirred behind you, “what’s going on…?”

“I don’t know…wait here.” You threw open the curtain as the pounding happened again, this time a little louder. Quickly you grabbed some clothes from your drawer across the room and dressed as you made your way down the hall.

Not being satisfied with how you answered that, Josh dressed himself as well and followed you to the door. You peered through the peephole before letting out a shaky breath and opening the door.

Two men in black suits were standing on the other side, sternly staring at you both.

In a cool voice, one of them said, “Mr. Nikolou requests your presence at his manor this evening, and he apologizes for the sudden call. He also wanted to inform you that this matter was very urgent, and that he would have a driver ready for you.”

“Sweetheart…what is it?”

The fear and anxiety bubbled up in your throat as you turned around to Josh, “Dimitri wants to see us…”

To be continued…

Tag List:  @dannyandthekiszkas , @gretasmokerising , @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine , @wideminded-dreamer , @runwayblues , @wildbluesorbit , @llightmyllovee , @rhythm-of-space , @sacredthefran , @writingcold , @alwaysonthemend , @wetkleenex-gvf , @josh-iamyour-mama , @lightsofthe-living-gvf , @gvfcinema , @sacredthethreadgvf , @losfacedevil , @jakekiszkasbuttsweat , @shutupdevvie , @hearts-hunger , @gretavanfleetposts , @ascendingtostardust , @mackalah , @andromeda-raine-gvf , @jake-kiszkas-smirk , @gracev0609 , @sacredjake , @earthlysorrows , @gvfpal , @myownparadise96 , @itsafullmoon , @gvfmelbourne , @twistedmelodies , @that-witchy-pan , @gold-mines-melting

[bloodynereid]

Reapers & Ravens

<< prev | chapter iv | next >>

pairings: jordan li x oc

tw: swearing, mentions of migraines, mentions of experimental pills, canon typical violence, weed, bad parents, mentions of death, rufus...

description: the story of a girl. a girl cursed by compound v to live a life without touch.

a/n: so... hi sorry this took so long to write and post. it's also a little shorter than the rest cause honestly when i was rewatching this ep it was sort of more focused on certain character dynamics and world building (which i tried to emulate). vic is going through it and... i added some little allusions to her past in this chapter. hopefully u all enjoy and... my ask box is always open so lmk ur thoughts + if you want to be added to the taglist <3

Walking through the stretch of patrons and trustees I finally spotted my dad standing off to the side, talking to a girl who was quite literally my age. Fucking hell, goosebumps appeared on my arms and a disgusted sneer overtook my face. That seems to be my predominant facial expression anytime I’m around my dad - the real version of him. 

Bundling up the layers that made up my skirt I ducked and nudged my way towards him, uttering a variety of sorrys to anyone I had bumped into. I was in a hurry after everyone had dispersed to get changed and make excuses to respective parents. We had to find Emma - as quickly as we possibly could.

“Dad! Look I don’t have time to explain but I have to go.” A scowl twisted his face and he reached for my gloved hand as I turned to go.

“The night is young plus you’re being rude to uh-”

“Lily.” The girl said with a flutter of her eyelashes, I felt sick to my fucking stomach.

“No dad, I really need to leave. I have to help my friends.”

“And suddenly you have friends.”

“Fuck off dad like you care. I came and I played the part of the perfect daughter, I don’t need to get your permission to leave.”

“I’m just trying to get you to stay in the top 10-”

“That is literally all you care about! You know what I’m going to go, I don't want to cause anymore of a scene.” I rolled my eyes and turned back to the sea of people with a sigh. I walked, or rather stormed my way to the reception doors but stopped short when I remembered… Gemma. Shit she should know that Emma was missing. 

My eyes turned towards the crowd once again and thankfully I found her sitting in between 2 identical girls who were wearing the same outfit. Oh that must be Mia. She was absolutely drop dead gorgeous, her curly brown hair was tied back in a slicked ponytail and she was wearing a blazer and a short skirt - showing off her toned muscles from football.

“Hii I see you found some company.” I said with a smile on my face and looked at the trio. Gemma was blushing like mad and the brunettes had flirty smiles on their faces.

“Oh shit uh hey Vic. This is Mia. Mia meet my roommate Vic.”

“Hi. Nice to meet you.” Mia’s silky voice came from one of the girls, it filled the atmosphere like honey, obviously I had heard some rumors about her before but holy shit.

“You as well. I love your outfit. If it’s ok can I pull Gemma away for a bit?”

“Oh yeah of course ,I’m going to go try to find some booze. Actually if I don’t see you here’s my number.” I watched as Mia’s duplicate took a pen out from one of the random pockets on her blazer and scribbled down a series of numbers on a napkin before signing it with a kiss. 

“Don’t miss me too much darling, we were just getting started. Plus I already have my date for tonight.” Mia added as she slipped into the crowd with a wink. Her duplicate followed closely behind her with an arm thrown around her shoulders. I turn to look at Gemma with raised eyebrows as she tries to giggle quietly.

“So…”

“Nope, we are not talking about this now. Tell me what happened.”

“Emma is missing.”

“What?” She exclaimed loudly and jumped up from her chair, making it wobble dangerously close to falling.

“Look, you remember I told you about my little adventure with Andre. Well, he did something stupid again. He sent Emma down there.”

“Shit. Okay what do we do?”

“First we need to get changed and then we’re meeting the group at Andre’s car. We’re going to try and locate her with the GPS.”

“Fuck okay, okay, let’s do this.” We nod at each other in agreement and then leave the memorial ball, quickly getting up to our dorm and changing into more casual clothes. There is no way that I was going to wear this dress to go to a search party.

“I found the tracker!” Marie says from one of the sandier parts of the field, we had spent over 30 minutes combing each and every corner of this damn field with our phone lights. The night was also growing colder and colder by the minute, maybe wearing a thin cardigan was not the best move. 

“Maybe this is good… I mean she got out of the hellhole.”

“Andre? We are literally standing in a meteor sized hole. How do we know she’s even alive?” I asked with a clearly frustrated tone lacing my words.

“Woah let’s not immediately assume she’s dead okay?” Gemma loudly declared as she stood next to Cate right outside the hole.

“Yeah exactly! Maybe Sam can jump like Maeve does? He landed here with Emma and then jumped again?”

“What were you thinking?”

“I had to do something.” Andre stuttered out while Marie looked at him with probably one of the most intensely angry looks I had ever seen.

“You didn’t do anything! You just dragged Emma into this fucking mess.”

“Woah okay how about we just calm down for a second?” I said, trying to mediate the clearly escalating situation but before I could take a step closer to the pair, our phones all went off at the same time. Jordan took out their phone first and scrolled through the message.

“They released the new rankings.” They said, causing me to pull up the same message on my phone. Oh shit.

“Andre is obviously still first, Marie second, I’m still five and Vic, you’re sixth.”

“Eh figures the dean hates me for whatever reason.” I said as I quickly locked my phone and slipped it back into my pocket.

“What?” The entire group looked at me with confused looks on their faces.

“How should I know? She was the one who interviewed me and I don’t know! She had this weird vibe to her the whole time.”

“Okay pending our talk about whatever the hell that is about, we really have bigger fucking problems than rankings.”

“Yeah says you, Mr. Number one. But I agree we do. Turns out the school has a whole fucking underground angel of death clinic! We don’t know who’s in on it. It could be the entire staff. And what are you going to do? Run around solving this like Nancy fucking Drew? You guys are going to end up like the fucking cricket.” Jordan says exasperatedly, walking closer and closer to Andre.

“Emma. Her name is Emma. And she is in so much shit right now because of your fucking friend.” Gemma answers as she too walks down into the crater.

“Woah okay Gemma chill. I don’t think they meant anything by it.”

“Jordan’s right.” Cate exclaims as she follows Gemma down.

“Thank you.”

“Look whoever Emma is, she isn’t fucking here.”

“Hey Cate! Come on.”

“No you come on. This girl could be fucking dead Andre. I told you not to do anything stupid. We are in over our heads.” Cate says as she starts to follow Jordan back to the place we parked the cars.

“Fuck.” Gemma exclaims as I grab her hand with my gloved one, smiling slightly at her. I rub circles on her palm to calm her.

“Look we’re going to figure this out okay? I promise.”

“Yeah okay I really need to sleep.”

“Me too. Let’s head back okay?”

“Yeah.” I put an arm around her shoulders and started walking towards Cate and Jordan but not before taking a look back at Marie and Andre mouthing a quick ‘bye’.

I laid in bed listening to the music blaring through my headphones. The morning sunshine was streaming in through the windows and I hadn’t even gotten a wink of sleep. My brain likes to hate me on days like this. Insomnia only seemed to arrive at the time when either everything was going to hell or I was stressed. Today it was a combination of the two.

Insomnia was also one of the worst possible things for my particular power. It’s usual insistence to absorb life seemed to be dialed up to 3 thousand. It’s typical itchiness under my gloves had now grown into a horrible irritation that was steadily spreading over every single cell of my body.

Eyeing the plants on the window sill I finally made up my mind about the debate I had been having with myself for over ten minutes. Maybe absorbing just one of my spider plants couldn’t hurt right?

Just as I was pulling the fingers of my glove off my hand, I distantly heard Gemma running into my room. I pulled my headphones off and looked at my roommate who had the giddiest expression all over her face. 

“Uh yes?”

“Guess who’s on campus right now?”

“With the way you’re acting I would say Santa Claus.”

“What no? I mean close but no.”

“Well then who?” I asked as I pulled my glove fully back on again. The singing under my skin only getting worse and worse.

“Tek Knight.” The moment that the name left Gemma’s mouth I felt my face scrunch up in disgust. You learn a lot about people when you grow up around them and… Uncle Tek was a staple in our household after my dad met him at some random premiere.

“What? Why are you making that face?”

“Nothing. I didn’t know you liked the whole Tek Knight thing.”

“Oh right yeah I love those shows. I mean they’re pretty bad but that kind of makes them good you know?”

“Yup totally get that. I, shit, I need to get to class. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry! But come find me if you do see Tek Knight, I need to ask him stuff about some of the episodes.”

“Okay! See you in a bit.”

I adjust the straps of my canvas bag and start to scratch at my wrist. I had specifically chosen my least scratchiest gloves right before leaving the dorm but they didn’t seem to be doing me any favors. Fuck. I buried my head in my hands and tried to just fucking breath.

That only seemed to make the situation worse. Even with my eyes closed I could still practically hear everyone’s life flowing through their very veins. After everything that I had learnt about Vought and what they were doing in the school I really didn’t want to take another one of the pills.

The sounds of bustling students started to fall away as the itchiness grew and grew. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to go cold turkey on an experimental drug with one of the most volatile powers.

I suddenly came down to earth when a hand started shaking my shoulder, my entire body jumped and I grabbed hold of whoever’s hand was shaking me and twisted on instinct.

“Woah Vic. Vic! Calm the fuck down.” My eyes flew open and it felt like the fog had cleared up, looking down at me with a disturbed look over their face was Jordan. Jordan whose hand I currently had in a weird death grip.

“Fuck shit. Sorry.” I said as I let go of her hand and went back to scratching my wrist.

“No umm don’t worry about it. Are you okay?”

“Yeah fine. What’s up?”

“Fine? Dude you literally nearly pulled my arm off.”

“Yeah I’m sorry about that. I’m a little stressed, I didn’t sleep much last night.”

“Me neither. It seems like this whole fucked up sit- Wait is that Rufus?” 

“What?”

“Why the fuck is Marie talking to Rufus?” I turned my head and leaned to the side so the tree wasn’t blocking my view and right there was Marie talking to some bleach blonde dude. 

“Rufus? As in the one you warned me about?”

“Yeah the very same.”

“Huh. Wait oh shit where are they going?” I asked as Rufus started to lead Marie with a hand on her forearm.

“No idea but we should probably follow them. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah I should be fine in a bit.”

“Ok maybe take a nap soon?”

“Only if you join me.” I said in a sing-song voice as we started to follow Marie and Rufus. I felt another headache starting to form behind my eyes but shook it off. Time to sort out priorities… like flirting with Jordan.

“Flirt.”

“Tease.” I wink at them and she just throws her head back and laughs before shifting and nudging my shoulder with theirs.

As we followed the pair I got more and more nervous, especially when they got to the dorm rooms. I exchanged worried glances with Jordan and continued to shadow them. I only broke out into a full on sprint when Rufus shut the door to a dorm behind him, pulling Marie inside.

“Shit! Rufus open the goddamn door!” I yelled as I started banging with my gloved fists.

“Rufus you creep you better open the fucking door.” Jordan screamed beside me, I moved out of the way as they hit the door harder and harder, until it finally gave way with a blast of her power. What I very much didn’t expect to see was Marie suddenly covered in a spray of blood and Rufus falling to the side, clutching his dick?

“Marie fuck. Are you okay?”

“Nice work. Now come on.” Jordan said in a calm tone as we hauled Marie up from the floor and they passed her a towel. I spared a glance back at Rufus and sent him the bird before we left the dorm room. 

“Are you okay?” I asked Marie, sending her a small smile. The added adrenaline was not helping the forming headache.

“That was fucking dope. How did you do that?” Jordan added.

“Uh I have no idea, I’ve never been able to do that before… should we call somebody?”

“Nah, that guy deserved it.” I said as I rubbed my fingertips on my temples.

“Are you okay?” Marie asked as she nervously clutched the towel in her hands.

“Oh yeah, fine. No need to worry about little old me.” They both looked at me with raised eyebrows and Jordan had a whole calculating look on their face that was frankly slightly freaking me out.

“Hmm sure.”

“Also Marie what the fuck were thinking going to him for help?”

“I can’t just do nothing.”

“Ok before this turns into another fight, no idea why the fuck you guys hate each other so much but I’m going to go. My head is literally killing me right now.” Jordan’s face relaxed from one of slowly building rage to something much softer.

“Vic? Do you want to go down to the health center or something?”

“Nah I’m going to go lie down for a bit.”

“I’ve got to go as well. Get this blood off of me.”

“You know, maybe a thank you would have been nice!” Jordan yelled out towards Marie’s already retreating back.

“For what exactly?”

“Wow next time we won’t go around rescuing again.”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“Fucking did.”

“I exploded his dick.”

“God you guys are so fucking childish.” I said with a slight laugh in my voice and started to walk down the hall.

“Because we distracted him! Tagteam cocksplosion am I right Vic?” I chuckled and just let Jordan put her arm around my shoulders after they jogged up to my side. 

“Whatever you say darling.”

I had been able to sleep for a few hours before I was rudely awakened by a really loud phone call. The headache continued to persist and the itchiness was at an all time worst.

“Hello?” I spoke into the phone’s speaker, my voice was groggy and scratchy. I should take some Vought pills… no, nope not again. Not unless they are a necessity.

“Darling! How are you Victoria?” Spoke the overly cheery voice of my honorary uncle, his baritone seemed to rattle through my brain.

“Uncle Tek?”

“Yes darling. How would you like to have a feature on the show? Andre walked out and a little birdie told me that you had known Luke.”

“Only for a few hours…”

“Perfect that should be enough. Can you meet me at Auditorium 5 in 20?”

“Uh… sure?” 

“Wonderful. See you soon kiddo!” The phone line clicked off and I let out a loud groan into the empty room. Fuck me.

For ten torturous minutes I stood in front of my mirror trying to get myself into a slightly presentable state. My eyeliner kept getting messed up because of my shaky hands and everything else just seemed to be impossible to do. Finally I was able to just slick my hair back and throw on some lipstick before walking gingerly out of the door and towards the Performing Arts school.

“Kiddo! Wow you look so old now.”

“That’s what happens when time passes, Uncle Tek. How have you been?” I asked as the taller man engulfed me in a quick hug. I suppressed the flinch that the action had caused. The pain was getting worse.

“Good, good. I really did miss you Victoria. I’m sorry I’ve gotten so busy.”

“Oh that’s okay I’ve been insanely busy as well. What exactly did you need me to do?”

“Just answer some questions, we just need some extra background on Luke.”

“Uh okay.”

“Wonderful, have a seat and we can get started. Three free thugs set three thugs free. Three free thus set three thugs free.” 

I flinched slightly as I sat down on the cushioned chair and started to run my gloved hands over the seams. You can do this.

“So here we are joined by Victoria Oaks, daughter to the actor Adrian Oaks - better known as Frostbite. How well did you know Golden Boy, Victoria?”

“Oh not well, I mean I’ve known Andre for a while but I only really met Luke a few days before the official first day of school.”

“And what did you think of him? Did he seem deranged to you?” My body immediately tensed up and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

“Luke was a perfectly normal and stable guy. He was also genuinely nice.”

“Have you heard of how many serial killers were also known as ‘nice’?”

“Yes of course but Luke wasn’t like-”

“You did say that you only really knew him for a few hours. How would you know his true nature? Also sorry for my poor choice of words, instead of serial killer I feel like the word murderer or monster might be more apt.” My jaw dropped in a shocked gasp, my brain wasn’t ready for this kind of barrage of information. I thought this would be a normal interview, especially because well I knew Tek. 

“Uncle Tek… what are you trying to get at here?”

“Just the truth Victoria. The whole truth.” Fuck this, no wonder Andre walked out on this interview. I had always been glad that I never got to be on the other end of Tek’s interrogation tactics, now I know why.

“Look, Uncle Tek. My head is killing me right now, would it be okay if we just postponed this?” I said, trying to be as nice as possible. Tek’s face fell, almost as if a switch had been flipped.

“Shit cut the cameras. Kid are you okay? Are you taking the pills?” I narrowed my eyes at him and shifted to the right.

“How do you know about the pills?”

“I do still talk to your dad, you know.”

“Right yeah. Uh, would it be okay if I just…”

“Of course, I’ll walk you back myself.”

“You really don’t have to do that, plus I need to make sure you take those pills. Your dad might actually kill me if I don’t take care of his daughter.” You mean his asset I thought.

I laid in bed after Tek had dropped me off with a promise that he would call me in a bit. He also insisted I take the pills. Looking down at the silver packaging I felt my spine shudder. Those little green pills could do wonders right now but what were they actually doing to my powers? 

Looking back on it I can’t even remember how I started taking these, there was never a reason as to why. They just appeared one day and dad made me promise that I would take them. I must have been 7 or 8 maybe. It was just after another one of the incidents… or was it?

I scrunched up my eyebrows in contemplation as I continued to stare at the green tablets. I had to be at a Superhero Branding class soon and it would be better to actually be vaguely coherent when I attended it. So…

“Fuck it.” I poked one of the little capsules out and popped it into my mouth before washing it down with a sip from my water bottle. I’ll go cold turkey tomorrow.

I twirled my pen between my fingers as I watched on to the clusterfuck that was Tek Knight interrogating someone. If I looked anything like Marie did in this moment I was probably a mess on camera. Ugh. At least the headache was gone and my power had quieted down into a soft hum under my skin. All it had taken was one tiny little fucking pill that I didn’t even want to take in the first place.

“Jordan’s the hero. Not me.” I shook out my stupor as I focused on Marie again. Holy shit she actually did it. I looked over to Jordan and they had a similar look of shock on her face. They must have realized I was looking over at them because she turned to lock eyes with me. I mouthed ‘holy shit’ and they responded by mouthing ‘I know’ back.

The whole class watched with bated breaths as Marie grabbed her bag and basically stormed out of the classroom. I looked over to Tek and rolled my eyes before grabbing my own bag and shoving my tablet and books into the small space.

“Hey! Jordan, wait up.” I exclaimed as I jogged up to the door where they were already pulling the handle.

“Yeah?”

“Want to hang out or something? I found some extra weed in my bag this morning and well… it kind of looks like you need it.”

“Are you just trying to stop me from following Marie?”

“What! That is a baseless accusation. Why would I ever…” I exclaimed in an overly dramatic voice but when I saw that Jordan wasn’t all that amused I changed my tactic, “Yeah I am. Marie just went through a Tek Knight interrogation™ so maybe just give her some space. I promise I will come with you when you want to talk to her.”

“Yeah I- I get that. Let’s get some of that weed you were talking about.”

“Where the fuck did you get this shit?”

“Hmm?” I asked as I shifted over on the bed so I was now facing Jordan, their face was totally blissed out. They looked ethereal. 

“This is really good weed.”

“Oh yeah… I grow it.”

“What?” Jordan turned to look at me this time and actually seemed sort of surprised that I had been staring at her so intensely.

“Yeah… I mean I love plants and I got bored one day. It’s all legal in LA, plus my dad is keeping it up for me.”

“You’re so fucking cool.”

“What are you talking about? You’re literally the definition of cool in my book. You’re funny, awesome and really fucking incredible.” I said, poking Jordan slightly in the shoulder with a playful smile on my face.

“Sureee. God I wish I could fucking kiss you right now.” My jaw dropped in the same instant that Jordan’s face went from calm to ‘OH SHIT’.

“Oh fuck wait forget I said that I’m high, yup I’m high-”

“Woah Jordan, chill. I also would love to kiss you right now.” I interrupted Jordan’s frankly very cute rambling by pressing my gloved fingers to their lips and smoothing over the skin on their cheek. A second later they shifted and he looked at me with the most beautiful smile.

“Really?”

“Yes really. I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while actually.” I giggled slightly and continued to stroke my fingertips lightly over his features. Their hand came up and dragged my gloved hand to his mouth where they placed a delicate kiss over my fingertips, then my knuckles, then-

The door flew open with a bang and we jumped apart as if we had scalding water thrown over us. Standing in the doorway were Emma, Marie and Gemma - all with varying expressions of concern, awe and surprise on their faces.

“Uh we’re sorry to interrupt whatever this is but we need to go.” Gemma said with a desperate tone in her voice.

“Right yup okay. What’s going on exactly?” I asked as I jumped up from the bed and started to straighten out my gloves. “Wait- Emma?”

“No time to explain. Sam is planning to kill Dr. Cardosa. We need to go.”

“Shit, Dr. Cardosa. He used to work with Brink. I know where he lives.” Jordan said as they smirked slightly in my direction. I smiled back and stood there for a few seconds, as if entranced by their eyes.

“Great, let’s go then.” 

“Right yup.”

I jogged in behind Jordan and started to take off my gloves. This Dr. Cardosa’s house was actually pretty nice, the paintings were also tasteful huh? Who thought an evil doctor had good taste in art?

I heard the refrigerator hitting something hard before I saw it. Andre was standing with his arms outstretched towards who I assumed was Sam, who instantly threw it off and turned towards Andre with rage painted all over his features. But he stopped short when he caught my eyes. He narrowed them and tilted his head.

“I know you. How did you get out? ARE YOU WITH THEM NOW?”

“I-uh I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never seen you before in my life.” I stuttered out, this whole situation was just getting weirder and weirder. And how the fuck would he know me?

“I recognise your voice. I’m Sam, we used to-”

“Woah okay maybe we should just take a second to breathe.” Sam took his eyes away from mine and looked at Andre.

“You- you fucking caught me. You’re one of them!” 

“We didn’t know who you were then.” Marie exclaimed as she started to make calming gestures with her hands.

“Sam let us help you!”

“No Cate! You are never touching me again! Get the fuck out of here. You’re all fucking puppets.” That made me stop short, puppets? That seemed to rattle something in my brain that I couldn’t quite understand.

“Sam, you said I was your hero okay? Let me help you.”

“No, no. They’re not.”

“What the fuck is his problem?” I turned to look at Andre, that fucking idiot. 

“Andre…”

“What did you just say to me?” Sam grabbed Andre and proceeded to smash him into the hard floor, actually cracking it before throwing him into the fireplace. Holy shit. Marie then did her whole cool blood manipulation stuff which was quite honestly insane to see in action while I just stood there sort of frozen.

The pill’s effects had started to wear off and the migraine was coming back full force. The itchiness was building up quite steadily and without the gloves on my hands all I wanted to do was grab someone and take and take and take. 

I was thrown out of my stupor when I realized that everyone had somehow gotten outside while I was busy staring down at my naked hands. The short nails covered in remains of black nail polish seemed to glare at me. Begging to just scratch something. 

“Victoria, Victoria look at me.” I looked up to see that Dr. Cardosa was steadily moving towards me with his hands steadily up in the air.  “You need to take the pill.”

“What?”

“You need to take-”

I groggily opened my eyes to bright sunshine streaming onto my face. Fuck that was weird. I brought up my hand to wipe the sleep from my eyes when something hard seemed to hit my face instead.

I brought my hand up in front of me and realized it was covered in some sort of diamond shell… and my gloves were gone. Looking down I also realized I was very naked, lying in bed next to Jordan.

What the fucking fuck?

hope you enjoyeddd - i literally did research on vic's powers for like an hour to figure out that last scene. lmk what you think !!

taglist: @neapolitantoebeans @scorchedfangirl @losers-club6 @vvyuqi @bubblebuttwade @fix5idiots @ponypickle @nellyboosworld

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Any thoughts on the mystery behind the Veil of Death and the three brothers?

ana-lyz: So... What does it mean to be the Master of Death in HP universe? And like what does being MOD mean specifically for Harry?

Okay, funny thing is I got the first of your asks like an hour after I added to my drafts a post titled "Master of Death", so I was just thinking about it. And then I started answering it and you sent the second ask, so, great minds think alike, I guess.

Long post ahead:

The Veil, Death, and its Master

I'm going to cover what we know from the books, my opinions on it, and some of my evidence-based headcanons, since there is a lot of speculation on my part.

The Afterlife and the Veil

So, I wanna talk a bit about death, as it appears in the Harry Potter books. We know an afterlife exists in the HP world both when Harry dies and when he speaks to Nearly Headless Nick after Sirius dies.

I want to start with the scene in Deathly Hallows in the King's Cross limbo. Specifically these few sections:

Barely had the wish formed in his head than robes appeared a short distance away. He took them and put them on. They were soft, clean, and warm. It was extraordinary how they had appeared just like that, the moment he had wanted them. . . . He stood up, looking around. Was he in some great Room of Requirement?

(DH, 596)

“Where are we, exactly?” “Well, I was going to ask you that,” said Dumbledore, looking around. “Where would you say that we are?” Until Dumbledore had asked, Harry had not known. Now, however, he found that he had an answer ready to give. “It looks,” he said slowly, “like King’s Cross station. Except a lot cleaner and empty, and there are no trains as far as I can see.” “King’s Cross station!” Dumbledore was chuckling immoderately. “Good gracious, really?” “Well, where do you think we are?” asked Harry, a little defensively. “My dear boy, I have no idea. This is, as they say, your party.”

(DH, 601)

“Tell me one last thing,” said Harry. “Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?” Dumbledore beamed at him, and his voice sounded loud and strong in Harry’s ears even though the bright white mist was descending again, obscuring his figure. “Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?

(DH, 610)

I don't think this place Harry was in is the Afterlife, or even connected to the Afterlife. I think it is in Harry's head. Harry having complete control over it, actually calling it out as behaving like the Room of Requirement, Dumbledore not knowing where they are until Harry knows where they are, etc. All this doesn't fit with it being a limbo on the way to death and the figure there being the real Dumbledore. Dumbledore, throughout this scene, acts kind of strange, way more helpful and finally says all the right things Harry wants to hear.

Not-Dumbledore himself tells Harry he already knows everything he explains to him:

“Explain,” said Harry. “But you already know,” said Dumbledore. He twiddled his thumbs together

(DH, 597)

So, I truly believe it isn't really happening. That this isn't death and it isn't Dumbledore. throughout the scene, Dumbledore doesn't actually give Harry new information Harry couldn't guess on his own. He's just going over things Harry already knew and creating a nice narrative out of them. At some points, he asks Harry what he thinks, and only starts explaining once Harry knows the answer (or what he wants the answer to be). I think this is Harry's subconscious coping and not actual death.

Additionally, there's the disturbing baby Voldemort thing. Now, the real Voldemort is still alive, so contrary to what Not-Dumbledore says, it isn't actually Tom Riddle:

“Oh yes!” said Dumbledore. “Yes, he destroyed it. Your soul is whole, and completely your own, Harry.” “But then . . . ” Harry glanced over his shoulder to where the small, maimed creature trembled under the chair. “What is that, Professor?” “Something that is beyond either of our help,” said Dumbledore

(DH, 598)

What I believe it is, is the soul in the Horcrux in Harry. Separated from Harry's own soul within his mind. That's the only thing it can be, in my opinion. I don't believe the soul shards in the Horcruxes could pass into an afterlife, or even to limbo. They were created to be bound to life and passing away is against their very nature (unless, maybe, if you through them through the veil).

Besides all these oddities in the scene, it just doesn't make sense for Dumbledore to be there. Nearly Headless Nick gives some insight about death and the Afterlife:

“He will not come back,” repeated Nick quietly. “He will have . . . gone on.” “What d’you mean, ‘gone on’?” said Harry quickly. “Gone on where? Listen — what happens when you die, anyway? Where do you go? Why doesn’t everyone come back? Why isn’t this place full of ghosts? Why — ?” “I cannot answer,” said Nick. “You’re dead, aren’t you?” said Harry exasperatedly. “Who can answer better than you?” “I was afraid of death,” said Nick. “I chose to remain behind. I sometimes wonder whether I oughtn’t to have . . . Well, that is neither here nor there. . . . In fact, I am neither here nor there. . . .” He gave a small sad chuckle. “I know nothing of the secrets of death, Harry, for I chose my feeble imitation of life instead. I believe learned wizards study the matter in the Department of Mysteries —”

(OotP, 861)

From the way Nick speaks, ghosts are caught between life and death, part of them remains among the living while the rest moves on. Hhosts live in limbo, unable to be alive or dead. From his words, it also implies the properly dead, those who chose to move on, stay dead. They stay gone.

If that is the case, how could Dumbledore have come to greet Harry in limbo? He's dead, truly gone, and death has no exceptions. There is no reason Dumbledore could speak to Harry in limbo and his parents won't. Once you're dead, you reach the afterlife and there you stay.

So I don't think the white King's Cross in Harry's death vision was connected to the afterlife, nor was it the real Dumbledore there. So, what is the actual afterlife?

Well, we don't really know. But, I can cover what we do know about the nature of death in the HP universe.

From Nick's words, the afterlife is the better option, than becoming a ghost. Nick describes ghosts as imprints left behind, but imprints of what specifically?

I talked about this already when I discussed how to make Horcruxes, but in alchemy, everything is comprised of three things:

Sulfur - soul

Mercury - spirit (that binds the body and the soul)

Salt - body

A ghost doesn't have a body, and we know all that moves on to the afterlife is one's soul. Therefore, it stands to reason ghosts are an imprint of a soul, while the spirit leaves at the moment of death. That's what an Avada Kedavra does, it removes the spirit, the connection between the body and the soul. That's how it kills instantly and without a trace.

So, when someone passes into the afterlife, it's their soul that passes away.

What about the echoes of Harry's parents and Cedric in Voldemort's wand during the duel in the graveyard?

Well, they're dead, they moved on, so it can't be their soul. The figures aren't even described the same way as ghosts or diary Tom, figures we know are made of souls:

and then something much larger began to blossom from Voldemort’s wand tip, a great, grayish something, that looked as though it were made of the solidest, densest smoke. . . . It was a head . . . now a chest and arms . . . the torso of Cedric Diggory. the dense shadow of a second head, If ever Harry might have released his wand from shock, it would have been then, but instinct kept him clutching his wand tightly, so that the thread of golden light remained unbroken, even though the thick gray ghost of Cedric Diggory (was it a ghost? it looked so solid) emerged in its entirety from the end of Voldemort’s wand, as though it were squeezing itself out of a very narrow tunnel . . . and this shade of Cedric stood up, and looked up and down the golden thread of light, and spoke.

(GoF, 665-666)

Their bodies are buried, and Cedric's is just lying there, neither are they physical enough to be bodies. I believe this is their spirit. Remember what I said about the Killing Curse just now, it severs the tie, and as such, it keeps the spirit. So, Harry is speaking to his parents' spirit, the echoes of their lives, not souls.

Now, let's talk about the veil. The veil is one of the most fascinating things introduced in the books, and the way it is introduced is fascinating on its own, but that's for later. The veil is a physical archway into the world of the dead.

The concept of such an entrance exists in multiple mythologies. In Greek mythology, many heroes (Odysseus, Orpheus, Heracles, Theseus, etc.) all travel through the underworld in one way or another, this is why the hero's journey goes through the underworld, it's very common. In Mesopotamian mythology, Gilgamesh and Ishtar both travel to the underworld. The point is, a gateway into the afterlife you can travel through, is a concept humanity has been toying with for millennia.

What's interesting is that, like Thestrals, those who've seen death (Harry, Luna, and Neville) can hear whispers from it. They experience it differently from others who haven't witnessed death (Ron, Hermione, and Ginny) who feel unnerved by it (although, Neville and Luna react differently from Harry, but more on that later). Not much more can be said about it, except that unlike all these gates into the underworld from myths, the veil is meant to be a one-way ticket.

In general, the afterlife in the Wizarding World is a one-way passage. Once you're gone, you're gone. Hence the closest thing to proper necromancy they have is creating inferi, which are soulless since the soul can't be pulled back from the afterlife.

The veil was also there before the Ministry of Magic, which was built around it. My guess is that some ancient wizards made it, and how or why were forgotten over time.

As the Peverell brothers were born around the 1210s and the Ministry of Magic was founded in 1707, it's possible, that the same Peverells from the story have built the veil. I actually think it's quite likely.

Death Himself

The idea of death personified is just as old and prevalent in many myths and cultures as a gateway leading into the afterlife. Whether Death, as a being, exists in the Wizarding World, I'm uncertain, but I don't think it's likely.

God-like spirits like Death feel out of place in the world in a way. Like, having a pantheon of gods feels wrong for the world of Harry Potter. It feels out of place with the established lore and magic. We don't see any evidence of wizarding society having any kind of unique religion in which such beings exist. Death, in the tale, is also described as similar to a dementor, making the idea that the author based Death's appearance on that of a dementor plausible.

That being said, Death's similarity to dementors could be the other way around. As in, the dementors look like death because of their connection to him. And, Death from the Tale doesn't really act like a god. How he behaves and is spoken of in the Tale of the Three Brothers reminds me a lot of a fae-like creature. Like, a powerful being who's a trickster that twists your wishes into something that he can use against you.

However I look at it, I still don't feel a being like this would fit in the world of Harry Potter, it feels wrong to add gods (or fae) in there. We don't see any hint that such beings might exist, which makes me feel they don't. So, I don't really think a personification of Death as appearing in the tale actually exists, but they do have an afterlife, as established above.

The Peverells and the Hallows

So we all know the legend about the three Peverell brothers who cheated death and received his gifts. Dumbledore (the one Harry imagines in his death fever dram) is certain it went down a little differently. That the tale is to explain incredibly powerful magical artifacts made by extraordinary wizards:

“Oh yes, I think so. Whether they met Death on a lonely road . . . I think it more likely that the Peverell brothers were simply gifted, dangerous wizards who succeeded in creating those powerful objects. The story of them being Death’s own Hallows seems to me the sort of legend that might have sprung up around such creations.

(DH, 602)

While it's not really Dumbledore and more Harry's own mind, I agree with him the Peverell brothers were probably no run-of-the-mill wizards, and I agree it's unlikely they've met Death, as I don't believe he exists.

Now, all the Hallows have a sentience to them beyond just any magical artifact. Even the wand is more sentient than any other wand, which are already quite sentient ("the wand chooses the wizard").

The wand of the first brother is a Hallow I already wrote about how it chooses its master. It is a wand intrinsically connected with death, having a core of Thestral hair. (I wonder if a core from a Thestral would agree to work for a wizard who hasn't seen death, but I digress)

This wand is actually the least impressive Hallow, in my opinion. Even though it says to be unbeatable:

Naturally, with the Elder Wand as his weapon, he could not fail to win the duel that followed. Leaving his enemy dead upon the floor

(DH, 352)

Its user is beaten quite often, that's how the wand changes owners, after all. This wand's tendency for even more sentience than other wands is what is particularly unique about it. How it chooses its master repeatedly, and sometimes even decides it prefers another over its current master, something unheard of for any other wand.

The Resurrection Stone has the supposed ability to pull a soul imprint from the afterlife:

“Yet she was sad and cold, separated from him as by a veil. Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered.

(DH, 352)

Something that I just discussed above should be impossible. Once dead and in the afterlife, nothing comes back out. Harry uses it as well for the same purpose and describes them as being similar to Tom from the diary:

They were neither ghost nor truly flesh, he could see that. They resembled most closely the Riddle that had escaped from the diary so long ago, and he had been memory made nearly solid. less substantial than living bodies, but much more than ghosts, they moved toward him, and on each face, there was the same loving smile.

(DH, 589)

Because that's what the stone brings back, echoes of souls, but they aren't what Tom Riddle was in CoS.

“We are part of you,” said Sirius. “Invisible to anyone else.”

(DH, 590)

This line, made me believe the resurrection stone does something different than its name suggests and more similar to the lie Tom in the diary told Harry. They aren't souls, they're memories, echoes from within Harry himself. "Memory made solid"

Magic, in the world of Harry Potter, can't bring back someone who has moved on to the afterlife. It's a one-way ticket, as I've established before, once your soul moves on, that's it (if you try to resurrect someone immediately after they died and their soul hasn't yet moved on it's a different story). So I think, these shades are based on Harry's memories, and not actual souls brought back. It'll make more sense magically since his thoughts and memories are there, but the souls have gone on.

It also makes the tale of the second brother make more sense. He suffered because it wasn't really his wife that came back, but a shade based on his own memory. The tale said that she suffered, but I think it was Cadmus who suffered, not truly having her back. However, depending on how she died, her suffering might've been his memories of her that the stone resurrected, or the tale made it all up just like it made up Death.

The stone is just as picky about its master as the wand. It does not seem to have worked for anyone other than Cadmus Peverell and Harry himself. We don't hear of any Gaunts who used the stone, nor do we hear from Dumbledore he succeded in using it (I don't think it's actually Dumbledore in the conversation in King's Cross as I mentioned above). Regardless, I think the real Dumbledore probably did try to use it, and I will hazard a guess he failed. Since the stone didn't choose him.

The Cloak is unique in many ways. Lasting centuries, way longer than any invisibility cloak can, passing from parent to child for generations. It also does a better job of concealing you than another invisibility cloak, if, it still has its limits:

“...We are talking about a cloak that really and truly renders the wearer completely invisible, and endures eternally, giving constant and impenetrable concealment, no matter what spells are cast at it. How many cloaks have you ever seen like that, Miss Granger?”

(DH, 354)

The cloak is similar to the other Hallows in how picky it is regarding its master. The cloak wouldn't belong to anyone who just possesses it, it's not enough. It has to be passed willingly on the owner's deathbed, as they great death as an old friend. It means that in the books, no one but Harry could be its owner.

All artifacts are powerful, but they aren't capable of anything that breaks the laws of nature (as the stone doesn't really resurrect), they are also sentient and picky, but it isn't something beyond the capacity of wizards. Why, we know of four wizards who made three sentient magical artifacts already — The Hogwarts founders.

The four founders enchanted the sorting hat together, but more relevant to the discussion of the Hallows are the Book of Admittance and the Quill of Acceptance.

At the precise moment that a child first exhibits signs of magic, the Quill, which is believed to have been taken from an Augurey, floats up out of its inkpot and attempts to inscribe the name of that child upon the pages of the Book (Augurey feathers are known to repel ink and the inkpot is empty; nobody has ever managed to analyse precisely what the silvery fluid flowing from the enchanted Quill is). Those few who have observed the process (several headmasters and headmistresses have enjoyed spending quiet hours in the Book and Quill’s tower, hoping to catch them in action) agree that the Quill might be judged more lenient than the Book. A mere whiff of magic suffices for the Quill. The Book, however, will often snap shut, refusing to be written upon until it receives sufficiently dramatic evidence of magical ability.

(from pottermore)

The idea of multiple sentient, powerful magical artifacts that need to agree is something wizards are capable of. And that, I think, is the secret to becoming the Master of Death — having all 3 Hallows pick you. Just like the book and quill need to agree a student should be admitted to Hogwarts.

Master of Death

Or more specifically what does that actually mean and why I think even if someone retrieved all 3 Hallows they wouldn't have become the Master of Death if their name isn't Harry James Potter.

This is definitely more in the headcanon territory, but the first scene that really made me think about it is the one in the Death Chamber in the Department of Mysteries. Because I think Harry and death always had a weird connection, it might've been around before the failed killing curse, and it was definitely around before Harry mastered all 3 Hallows.

So, why do I think Harry was always bound to be the Master of Death, and even if Dumbledore or Voldemort had all the Hallows it wouldn't have helped them?

There, are a few things that led me to this conclusion.

First, as I mentioned above, the cloak can not belong to anyone other than Harry in the books. It means that no one but Harry could master all of the Deathly Hallows, regardless of what they did.

Second, This first scene in the Death Chamber with the veil. I'll copy parts of it below and ask you to note, as you read, that Harry, Neville, and Luna are the only three who can see Thestrals and therefore should react more to the veil:

“Who’s there?” said Harry, jumping down onto the bench below. There was no answering voice, but the veil continued to flutter and sway. “Careful!” whispered Hermione. ... He had the strangest feeling that there was someone standing right behind the veil on the other side of the archway. ... “Let’s go,” called Hermione from halfway up the stone steps. “This isn’t right, Harry, come on, let’s go. . . .” She sounded scared, much more scared than she had in the room where the brains swam, yet Harry thought the archway had a kind of beauty about it, old though it was. The gently rippling veil intrigued him; he felt a very strong inclination to climb up on the dais and walk through it. “Harry, let’s go, okay?” said Hermione more forcefully. “Okay,” he said, but he did not move. He had just heard something. There were faint whispering, murmuring noises coming from the other side of the veil. “What are you saying?” he said very loudly, so that the words echoed all around the surrounding stone benches. “Nobody’s talking, Harry!” said Hermione, now moving over to him. “Someone’s whispering behind there,” he said, moving out of her reach and continuing to frown at the veil. “Is that you, Ron?” “I’m here, mate,” said Ron, appearing around the side of the archway. “Can’t anyone else hear it?” Harry demanded, for the whispering and murmuring was becoming louder; without really meaning to put it there, he found his foot was on the dais. “I can hear them too,” breathed Luna, joining them around the side of the archway and gazing at the swaying veil. “There are people in there!” .... “Sirius,” Harry repeated, still gazing, mesmerized, at the continuously swaying veil. “Yeah . . .” ... On the other side, Ginny and Neville were staring, apparently entranced, at the veil too.

(OotP, 773-775)

The interesting to note:

Luna, who can see Thestrals, also hears the whispering. I assume Neville does too.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny are mesmerized but unnerved by the veil. Ron and Hermione seem to fight this memorization in their fear for Harry as he nears the veil.

Harry is the only one who is drawn to the veil He is the only one that moved, the only one whose feet take him against his will to the dias with the veil.

Harry thinks of it as oddly beautiful.

He has an urge to pass through that no one else does. All of them are frozen in place.

Harry is so affected he needs to be reminded twice that he's there to save Sirius before he can draw himself away from the veil.

Third, later in the book, after Sirius fell through the veil, there's this part:

He had reached the floor, his breath coming in searing gasps. Sirius must be just behind the curtain, he, Harry, would pull him back out again. . . . But as he reached the ground and sprinted toward the dais, Lupin grabbed Harry around the chest, holding him back. “There’s nothing you can do, Harry —” “Get him, save him, he’s only just gone through!” “It’s too late, Harry —” “We can still reach him —” Harry struggled hard and viciously, but Lupin would not let go. . . . “There’s nothing you can do, Harry . . . nothing. . . . He’s gone.”

(OotP, 806)

Harry's instinct to go through the veil to get Sirius out is so odd. The way he thinks that he himself can pull him out, not anyone else, but he... I don't know, but, this scene is interesting. It almost makes me feel Harry could pull Sirius back out. He defied death already once and will defy it again in the 7th book, so why not? Why wouldn't he be able to pull someone back from beyond the veil if they fell through just now (the timing is relevant, I don't think Hary could pull, say, his parents out).

My headcanon is that in that very moment if Lupin let Harry pull Sirius out, it would've worked. Caused a pandemonium about the fact Harry can apparently resurrect the dead (even if it's not really what he did), but that it would've worked. (I actually really want to write a fic like this)

Fourth, throughout the 7th book, once Harry finds out about the Hallows, he can't let the thought go. He knows his cloak is one, he is convinced the stone is in the snitch Dumbledore left him, way before he opened it. He just has a sense about it, and a fixation on it that's almost instinct:

Dumbledore had left the sign of the Hallows for Hermione to decipher, and he had also, Harry remained convinced of it, left the Resurrection Stone hidden in the golden Snitch. Neither can live while the other survives. . . master of Death. . . Why didn’t Ron and Hermione understand? “‘The last enemy shall be destroyed is death,”’ Harry quoted calmly

(DH, 374-375)

So, these are my reasons why I believe Harry is the only character in the books that could or would be the MOD. It's just that he always was, in a way. The Hallows already chose him before he ever held any of them.

But what does it mean to be the Master of Death?

“Well, of course not,” said Xenophilius, maddeningly smug. “That is a children’s tale, told to amuse rather than to instruct. Those of us who understand these matters, however, recognize that the ancient story refers to three objects, or Hallows, which, if united, will make the possessor master of Death.” ... “When you say ‘master of Death’—” said Ron. “Master,” said Xenophilius, waving an airy hand. “Conqueror. Vanquisher. Whichever term you prefer.”

(DH, 353)

We don't really get much besides this. Along with what's written on James and Lily's grave:

The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.

(DH, 283)

Harry believes all phrases, along with the prophecy are connected and lead him to believe he should become the Master of Death:

Three objects, or Hallows, which, if united, will make the possessor master of Death. . . Master. . . Conqueror. . . Vanquisher. . . The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death. . . . And he saw himself, possessor of the Hallows, facing Voldemort, whose Horcruxes were no match. . . Neither can live while the other survives. . . Was this the answer?

(DH, 369-370)

So what can the Master of Death do? Death isn't a personified deity, what is defeating or contouring death mean? Does it mean immortality?

I don't know if I'll say full immortality, I think the Master of Death can die the same way Ignotus Peverell did. I think Ignotus Peverell was the first Master of Death, in a way, he at least represented the concept:

And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life

(DH, 352)

He was death's equal, he could escape it and live a fulfilling life, before choosing to meet Death on his own terms. I think that's what it means, that Death won't find Harry until he is ready to move on, and when he finally chooses to move on, Death would greet him with open arms.

The crux of it is the choice. That death can't touch you until you choose to allow it. And those who become Masters of Death, would always eventually choose to greet death, as these are the type of people the 3 Hallows would choose. It's all about choices.

(For the record, yes, I think there could be more than one MOD, I think Ignotus was until his death, and then in the books, Harry is)

And considering how much emphasis is put on choices and intentions in the magic of this world, it seems only right to be so relevant here too.

Like with the Mirror or Erised, which only let someone who wanted to have the Philosopher's Stone but not use it, have it; the Hallows won't choose a master who wouldn't, eventually, be willing to accept death. Because mastering death, isn't only not dying, it's understanding it, and accepting it. Both the deaths of others and eventually your own.

Also, as I mentioned above, I headcanon that Harry could pull Sirius out the moment he fell in through the veil. I don't think anyone but Harry could. I believe, as a Master of Death, Harry is the only wizard (well, being) that can go into the afterlife, walk past the veil, and come back out. A Master of Death is the only one who the afterlife isn't a one-way ticket for.

(Although, I think it's possible that if you wear the invisibility cloak you might be able to pass into the veil and come out even without being the MOD, but, I wouldn't bet on it)

Summary of my thoughts

The afterlife exists in the Wizarding World and nothing that passes beyond the veil can return. It's a one-way ticket.

The scene in Deathly Hallows with Dumbledore in King's Cross station limbo didn't actually happen.

Death, as a deity of sorts most likely doesn't exist.

The Peverell brothers were powerful wizards who made the Deathly Hallows and perhaps the veil too.

The Resurrection stone can't bring a soul back from beyond the veil so it does the next best thing — reviving an illusion of a memory.

All 3 Deathly Hallows are very sentient magical artifacts like the sorting hat. Each of them is very picky when choosing its own master.

When all 3 Hallows choose the same master, this person is the Master of Death.

Being the Master of Death means the MOD won't die until the time of their choice. But the MOD will always choose to die eventually because that's the kind of person the Hallows would pick.

There can, over time, be more than one MOD (not at the same time though). And it's possible Ignotus Peverell was one, in a way.

The MOD might be the only person who can go into the veil and come back out.

The invisibility cloak might also allow you to make a trip into the veil and then back out.

[xxsycamore]

𝙋𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙏𝙧𝙪𝙢𝙥𝙨 𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙣 (ARTHUR X READER)

↬ 🩸 ❝ Now, now…❞ Arthur unfolds yet another towel, laying it on the bed. ❝ You've surely heard that this is one way to treat period cramps.❞ ❝ What is?❞ ❝ Orgasms.❞

Arthur Conan Doyle x f!Reader • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Menstruation; Menstrual Sex; Period Cramps; Embarrassment; Kink Negotiation; Vanilla; Arthur is gentle; Pet Names; Gentle Sex; that gets a little not so gentle; Vaginal Fingering; Vaginal Sex; Kissing; Lots of it; mentions of blood drinking; Creampie; Aftercare; Post-Coital Cuddling; Crying; Dacryphilia • wordcount:  3,177 • masterlist

a/n: I've been trying to finish this fic for months 😭 My first period sex fic! Hope you enjoy!! If you happen to suffer from cramps and you want your favorite ikevamp suitor comforting you in their own unique way, may I also offer: Napoleon, Comte, Mozart, Theo, Leonardo, Sebastian 💕(All fics in this series share the same opening scene!)

It’s another beautiful day at the mansion, and the sun is continuing to shine brightly outside as afternoon settles in. Your list of chores is more than half-way done now, the morning was a productive one and you pat yourself on the back for pushing through at your usual pace, even if your period surprised you early this morning. Sleeves rolled up and armed with a feather duster, you march towards the lounge room to take care of another chore.

Specks of dust dance in the afternoon sun, windows wide open, as you complete your task little by little. Soon the sections left to dust decrease and you start to tire - a minor pain in your tummy appearing as well, as if to persuade you into taking a short break. You throw a look at the grandfather clock. You’ve been a busy bee; not even the distraction of dusting off some of Comte’s highly intriguing antiques couldn’t get you late on your own schedule.

You sit down at the spacious couch area, grab a throw pillow to hug, and fall on your side - shoe-covered feet juust hanging off the couch because it won’t be worth the effort of taking them off for just a minute or two of rest.

Uh-oh! The pain doesn’t go away and only gets worse instead. Suddenly moving as much as a millimeter equals signing a death warrant.

“Help” You whisper to yourself, clutching onto the throw pillow.

Trying to escape from the pain in the realm of your imagination, you fantasize about nicer things…and that means fantasizing about your boyfriend, Arthur. If only he was here right now, you're sure the pain would be way more bearable. Maybe he would sit in the armchair next to you and take out the small journal he keeps on his person to work on his current draft. You love relaxing in the ambient sound of his pen scribbling across the paper, it has helped you fall asleep many nights. On those, he'd normally write on his desk, but seeing you snuggled onto yourself alone on the bed never sits right with him. It typically doesn't take him too long to come join you under the warmed-up covers. You think about how he props the book against his knee, how he plays with the ends of your hair spilled across the pillow when he gets deep in thought…

You also think about how on some nights, you just can't sleep, and he just can't write - when those innocent idle caresses start growing into more, and your gazes meet for a second too long. Arthur would slowly remove his glasses and turn off the night lamp; then in a flash, his lips are attacking your neck with passionate kisses before your eyes can get used to the darkness.

How did your mind trail off to this, again?

"Arthuuuurr…" You groan as the loneliness begins growing stronger with your daydreams, and the cramps chime in as well.

You hear the floorboards creak outside the door and you raise yourself to a sitting position, calling an abrupt end to your short break. Maybe you'll go take some medicine, after all…

"Calling for me, luv?"

You stand awkwardly in front of the couch for a second, staring at Arthur as if he is a fraction of your imagination still. He's not, and if it wasn't for the godawful cramps you'd be throwing yourself on his neck right this instant.

"D-Did you really hear me? It can't be possible!"

Thankfully, he's the one shortening the distance so you don't have to, planting a greeting kiss on your cheek.

"Oh? So you did call my name?" A wide grin occupies his lips now, satisfied with himself and his little accidental guess that wins him the sight of your blushing face.

Realizing his bluff, you purse your lips, removing yourself from his smooching range.

One look at you and Arthur is nodding as if all the checkboxes in his head are now marked. However, he's not celebrating the brilliancy of his deductive mind with a smirk this time; he looks remarkably concerned.

"You were lying down just now, luv, didn't you? Are you in pain? Your period came?"

Despite the best efforts of this persisting pain, expressions other than a bitter frown are still able to play on your features, and you're honestly impressed. "Yes, yes, and yes, but…how did you know?"

Arthur steals himself another kiss, on the corner of your lip this time. "How did I know? Is it so strange for me to know my lover inside out?"

Whispering his reply is all a part of the flirty little trick to win you over, and you wish he didn't - because it works a little too well with the whirlwind of emotions and hormones inside you. You shiver whole, barely able to spare a thought or two about the actual reason. Didn't you catch him taking a bath today? Did he take a peek in your underwear drawer, armed with the knowledge about which panties are the "period panties" (which surprisingly IS a thing even with the circumstances of this time and age!), and notice their absence? Some pervert he is. It wouldn't even be his first time doing this, but still, you're not mad. Not when he's palming and caressing your shoulders while sneaking in another kiss on your pouting lips. You love his attention, especially now that you missed it so much.

"Now luv, what are we going to do with you, hmm?"

You shiver as his hands wander all the way down to your hips and linger there.

"Should we get you something warm to press to your belly? Or maybe take you on a light walk once you're done resting? One word and I'll do everything for you, my dear."

"Arthur, you're spoiling me…"

"Think about it, I'll wait."

Oh, thinking is not good. Not when he's so close with little to no room left to be closer than that, save for the one thing you absolutely cannot ask of him. Your thoughts start getting shameless; cursed be the conditions that are not letting you pounce on him. Even if you're never going to live down the shame of it, you wish you could just hump his leg to a sweet, sweet release and be over with it. It would end quickly and without mess.

Arthur looks at you differently now, and you can feel his gaze examining you. You try to control your breathing which might have quickened in the last couple of seconds. But he's too good at this.

"Something the matter, luv? You seem hot."

His cool hand on your cheek feels too good, as if asking you to nuzzle into it, slip the thumb in your mouth and suck. You summon some much-needed self-control at the price of a sharp breath that puts the attempts at steady breathing to waste. You decide to spill the beans, groaning as another cramp creeps its way onto your nerves, both metaphorically and literally.

"I'm horny."

You expect pity at most. This sort of blurted-out-of-nowhere confession is more typical of the man in front of you, so even with this, you're not doomed to become the bigger pervert between the two of you; it's relieving somehow. You hope that Arthur understands.

"Ah."

It's a small exclamation, and it could mean many things coming from his mouth of all people. While leaving yourself wholly in his hands and their gentle messaging motions, you should've considered that he is ready to sweep you off your feet any second. Like he does right now.

The sudden loss of balance surprises you, and you find yourself carried bridal style. Arthur turns with you in the direction of the door, but before taking a single step, he leans in to whisper to you. With your arms wrapped around his neck, you have no chances of escape as his warm breath hits your lips.

"I think I just thought of a way to relieve you from your pains, darling."

***

To your surprise, you're dropped off at the chaise longue once in your shared bedroom. You watch in near horror as Arthur brings out towels and lays them on the bed. It's not long before you connect two and two, and you have to protest.

"Arthur, you're surely not thinking about-"

"Now, now…" Arthur unfolds yet another towel, giving it a small shake. "You've surely heard that this is one way to treat period cramps."

"What is?"

"Orgasms." Arthur catches your gaze, having finished preparing the bed. You watch him approach and you change the position of your legs on the chaise longue, pressing your thighs together.

Sometimes you hate how awfully familiar Arthur is with the human body given the fact that he used to be a doctor - a field doctor, but a doctor nonetheless - everything from your anatomy to your bodily reactions being a mere tool in his hands to love you and to take care of you, should the need arise. You should be glad to have such a knowledgeable boyfriend by your side, even if it embarrasses you to no end when he puts his skills into action.

"But, it's gross!" You insist in a near-shout, realizing that he's now close enough to hear you even in a meek whisper. "Just think of all the mess… I don't want you to be grossed out with me."

"My dove."

Arthur caresses your neck, pressing his thumb into the underside of the top button of your shirt and easily undoing it, then moving to the next. He pretends he doesn't possess the skill of getting it all done with in seconds, and you're not a fan, even if it gives you time to arrange your thoughts. He wets his lips and continues.

"Nothing about you could ever gross me out. I think this exercise would help me prove that to you, even… and maybe by the end of it, you'll truly believe me."

Soon there are no more buttons left for him to undo.

"I happen to know how to wash blood from bedsheets."

Shivers go straight to your nethers, images of sleepless nights flash in your mind with the reminder of the sharp tips of his fangs perforating the skin of your neck.

"I'm a blood-drinking bastard, remember?…" He latches his mouth into your neck, but keeps his fangs to himself. Despite doing nothing to stop him, you know that losing more blood is not the wisest thing to do right now, and you're already sure Arthur keeps that in mind. You still enjoy his teeth on you, even the ones that don’t aim to break the skin. Before he can suck long enough to leave a mark, he breaks the contact, needing you to be good and listen for a little longer.

"Some blood cannot get in my way of giving you pleasure. Quite the contrary."

You whine at his comment alone, as embarrassing as it is, and you realize that you've been rubbing your thighs together a little too hard. It doesn't go unnoticed by your boyfriend, as he places his warm hand on your knee, smirking at the way you shiver and release the tense muscles of your thighs. He pats you in encouragement. "Will you stand up for me, my princess?"

Complying quietly, you stand up on shaky legs. Arthur hugs you from behind, distracting you with kisses as he untucks your open shirt from your skirt, moving to his next target. Soon the two pieces of clothing pool at your feet, leaving you only in your underwear. His hand is gentle as it guides you to bed like many times before.

You lie down with the soft towels underneath caressing your lower body, and it's not as awkward as you thought it would be. Arthur doesn't give you much time to dwell on it as he climbs ontop of you, claiming your mouth in a passionate kiss.

Burning hot need pools in your belly, a tang of pain mixing with it, and you realize you've almost all forgotten about your cramps. Instead of being wary of upcoming sensations flaring them up, you feel like chasing the prevailing lust that now resides in your loins. Arthur's got you. You want to experience this together with him.

Eager to show him your progress, you guide his right hand between your open legs. To your surprise, he lets out a groan, breaking the kiss to look down and rub the place at the apex of your thighs.

You didn't expect to feel him through the obstacles in the way, and your own sensitivity catches you unprepared. The noise you make is familiar to Arthur, it's hardly the first time he's got you helpless and dying for him to touch you like that. Though it usually takes a bit more toying with you. He keeps rubbing down on it until your body is certain this is nowhere near enough for what it needs.

"Arthurrr… Please…"

"Begging already? My, aren't you cute?"

You pout at his teasing, taking matters into your own hands as you try to shimmy out of your panties. He's there to help, hands meeting yours as he pulls them down and out of the way.

You shut your legs together out of embracement, and Arthur is prepared for this reaction as he quietly tuts you, resuming his ambush on your lips, and you give into his ways of convincing you.

Feeling the tips of his fingers on your clit, electricity runs through you and you thrust your pelvis up involuntarily. Arthur remains collected as his fingers dance around your bundle of nerves, but no matter how gentle he is, his touch feels too good for some reason. You can feel how slippery it is, but the feeling is not too alien to you, and that's a relief. While drowning in the sweetness of Arthur's kisses, it all feels like a regular night with him, you're just extra wet and sensitive.

"Arthur- Are you gonna…" You don't finish, instead running your hand down his toned body and to the front of his pants.

He chuckles. "Only if you can handle it, luv. Say the word and I'll give you what you need. But if you think that would be too much, I can make you cum on my hand now and here."

It all sounds lovely to you, but the hormones playing with your head are demanding all you can take and more. You want to explore this sensation all the way, despite the tad of embarrassment still threateningly lingering in the back of your head.

"I want you inside…" You blurt out, raising your legs in an attempt to make Arthur hurry up and slip inside you already. You obviously don't need more preparation, as you're sure it's not only the blood lubricating your hole anymore.

The shadow of lust darkening Arthur's blue eyes is alone at fault for your walls clamping down around nothing. The rustling of a belt coming undone is music to your ears as you count the seconds before Arthur claims the place between your legs once again.

Same as when you felt his fingers, the tip of his very hard cock makes you jump, but now Arthur chooses to simply observe from above as you forms writhe. You feel him coating himself in your juices and the filthiness of the act makes you moan on the spot. The repeating tease of him threatening to breach your entrance only to withdraw is making you crawl out of your skin.

"Are those tears in your eyes, Luv? Oh, you poor thing, we teased you too much now…"

You're shocked to discover that your vision is indeed blurry. Hormones at fault, you mutter a sound of surprise that turns into a moan as Arthur finally enters you.

"Oh— My god, so— big-"

Arthur groans like you rarely hear him do. He must have felt that too. You're really tight around him.

It's good he slips his tongue between your lips again because the smallest thrust would make you explode. You're getting drunk on this sensation, feeling him so intensely. Just as you begin to relax, he starts grinding inside you.

"Ahhhh- More, more!"

Eager to give you all you want, Arthur complies until you start hearing the wet noises of him thrusting inside you. It's making your face red, but you can't help moaning at every thrust, adding to the sultry sounds.

Arthur is as lost in it as you are, and your heart sings at being the source of his maddening need. Hearing his low noises of pleasure drives you closer and closer to the edge, as all you can think about is cumming together with him.

Locking your legs around his torso, you egg him on to tip over the edge now and here. The unmistakable noise of him cursing under his breath floods you with desire just as you thought you couldn't feel needier, but then something happens that catches you off guard. Arthur moves his head away from where it was nestled against your neck and at first, you aren't sure about the reason before you hear his muffled groans. He fills you with his hot cum just a second after.

You realize that just now, he was biting the pillow. The bloodthirst must have gotten to his head, and he… did everything in his power not to drain you of more blood.

Seeing him so out of control makes you scream as a violent, powerful orgasm is ripped out of you, your body seemingly having a mind of its own as it humps against Arthur through it, and he holds you down by the folds of your knees to ride the pleasure off for you. It's one of the best orgasms you've ever had.

Hormones shifting once again in the chemistry of your brain, you glow with the aftermath of pleasure running through your body, head to toe, and suddenly the need to hold Arthur close grows tenfold. His hands move to cushion the back of your neck as he kisses you softly, spent and content as you are, chuckling against your lips.

"Aren't you going to ask why we haven't done this sooner?"

Still catching your breath, you want to groan at how quickly he regained his cockiness, being a textbook gentleman just a second ago. Though, you can totally see his point now.

"I just…really don't want to look down right now."

"You don't have to. Leave the cleanup to me. I'll take good care of you."

The whispered promise is already lulling you into a deeper relaxation, as you rest your limbs with no intention to get up anytime soon. Arthur is… absolutely, shamelessly spoiling you rotten. Both with his gentle care and with his ways of casually giving you one of the best orgasms of your life, making you discover a new kink.

Oh, and your pain is completely gone, by the way.

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