#the dark side of the moon has spoken (answered!)

[myosotisa]

The trailer is dark, the park quiet as snow when you finally manage to drag yourself from the warmth of the blankets and the smell of Eddie that they encase you in. He'd slipped out of them 10 minutes earlier -- a kiss on the crown of your head and a sleepy mumble in your ear as he carefully extracted himself from your embrace. You'd been too close to sleep to hear what he'd told you in that low voice; you felt it in vibrations from where you were pressed to his chest more than you had heard it. So you went searching.

Padding down the hall in a pair of thick socks, boxers, and a sweatshirt (all belonging to Eddie), you navigate toward the soft, orange light diffusing across the linoleum beyond the wooden arch that cut off the bedroom and bathroom from the rest of the trailer. You could hear a slight scrape of plastic against metal and the baritone hum that came from your boyfriend, the sweetest siren's call that would guide you through even the darkest nights.

Eddie stands in the kitchen with his bare back to you. The light from above the stove, the only light in the entire place, filters out around him in a golden glow. His hair is down and messy from sleep, shoulders rising and falling in easy breaths, black sweatpants hung low on his hips, the feathery wings of black ink that span across his shoulder blades shifting as his arms adjust whatever he has on the burner.

He is always pretty, unfairly so, but there is something so absolutely striking about him like this. At night he's softer, calmer, warmer -- less sharp grins and more loving smiles, less restless adjusting and more relaxed lounging. His doe eyes are still big and brown as ever, but they blink slower, simmer deeper. And while you love both sides of Eddie, you treasure this one. The one only you get to see, the gentle side of him that rises with the moon and lives within the familiar walls of your home and within your arms. You so often find yourself thanking the universe for giving you this, giving you him. This is definitely one of those moments.

After taking several peaceful seconds to appreciate the view, you travel silently forward, unable to resist the urge to feel his skin on yours again. He jumps a bit in surprise when your cold fingers skate past his narrow waist, his body relaxing again by the time you wrap both arms around him and mold yourself to the planes of his back.

"What are you doing out of bed, sweet girl?" The softly spoken question comes out almost scolding, but the timber of his voice bleeds out warmth and comfort, a smile evident despite you being unable to see his face.

Lips pressed to his bare skin, eyes falling closed, you answer honestly and with a little bit of embarrassment. "Missed you, didn't know where you went."

His torso rumbles in a quiet laugh, his back widening against your chest as he intakes air. "I told you before I left."

"Didn't hear you, was too sleepy." He lets out an understanding hum as his non-dominant arm drapes across your own, his palm warm even through the thick fabric of your sweatshirt. "What're you making?"

"Had a craving for a grilled cheese. You want one?"

"Mmmmmmm, I do love cheese," you murmur, delighting as his skin erupts in goosebumps when you hum against him.

"And I do love you, sweet girl. So I think we might be able to work something out."

[tired-biscuit]

Can we get a fic like manipulative bestfriend Kirishima but it's Katsuki instead?

18+ mdni, fem!reader // cw: manipulation (guilt-tripping), sort of dubcon-ish...? bsf!bakugou

"stay."

a hint of a smile tugs at your lips at the seemingly innocent request katsuki slurs into the darkness as you get him into bed that friday night.

the bedroom you're in, his bedroom - and which you've come to know so well that you might as well consider it your own instead - is neat and tidy as ever. perfectly him.

every piece of furniture has its own rightful place. the decoration is scarce, but surprisingly tasteful; that is if you ignore the shelf full of all might figurines that's situated right above the desk. adorned with starlight and a hint of blue-ish purple light coming from the neon sign that's right across the street, shadows of all shapes and sizes cover the walls.

and they dance, the shadows and their odd shapes. twirling and spinning all across the flat surface whenever a car drives by the window that overlooks the street outside, they remind you of living things. and speaking of living things; the night itself can be considered as one of them. it makes the city feel alive.

people walk the streets no matter the hour in a city this big. they share inside jokes and they laugh and gossip and spill secrets they'll talk about further about in the morning, when they're feeling a bit more sober. but besides the occasional chatter and the low hum of turning car tires, it's quiet. peaceful - if you're used to tuning out all the traffic noise and other nonsense. you, living in the very center of the flashy city havoc for quite a while now, find it oddly comforting at almost one in the morning.

however, to you, the room you're currently standing in also beats the comfort the city brings any day. most definitely.

because as you inhale, savouring a nice, deep breath, you realize that it smells fresh and familiar; like home, or rather the person you think of as home. like the fabric softener that wafts from the newly-washed bed sheets you've just finished tucking him in, and the chilly breeze of late spring that's only snuck its way into the room because of the fact that katsuki 'blood running as hot as his temper' bakugou prefers to sleep with his windows open no matter the season.

and that's completely fine, it's just dandy - even if it does tend to get a little too cold for your taste, personally. the problem at hand is that besides the open windows, your best friend also prefers to sleep with you in the room with him. right by his side, where you belong. constantly.

most don't believe it if they've gotten the chance to meet him and know what he's like, but it's true. he actually likes you. and sure, it may seem like he simply tolerates your company instead of enjoying it more often than not, with his constant eye rolls and low-spoken grumbles for answers, but you know him better than that.

you know that just from the way he wishes to have you around, like now, willing to share his comforter and pillow with you whenever he's at his most vulnerable - a sight he never lets anyone see but you. it's the little things when it comes to katsuki, and you also know that the action alone is the same as if he were to tear the very moon off the sky every night for you before placing it into your awaiting hands.

he trusts you with it. he trusts you with his heart.

and it's been like that for a long while, ever since you were kids, actually. since you'd borderline forced him to be your friend by smiling those big, foolish grins at him even if one of your teeth was missing at the time. since you'd brought him neat little presents, most of them candy and gum, for his birthday every year, even if he wasn't particularly a fan of sugar and you only found out about it years later. since you weren't afraid to hold his hand even if it got much too warm, much too quick all of a sudden and could even make sparks fly, while yours had been simply covered in bright yellow sidewalk chalk instead.

and katsuki, well, he had pretended for a long while that he didn't appreciate the way you'd persisted and consistently kept putting in the effort into getting to know who he truly was. had feigned that he didn't care about all the smiles and the kind gestures and even sweeter gifts. never being a boy with a tendency to display affection all that much, he found it hard to demolish the walls he'd spent ages building around himself and to really portray what he truly felt.

but years passed, as they tend to do. by the time you had both grown up and parted ways, he realized how special it was what he had. how he took it for granted. and once for a change, he was the one reaching out to you this time, over social media he rarely used but still had because everyone else - you - did. he was the one attempting to grow closer. to rekindle the spark and all the warmth to accompany it. because he missed it.

he missed you.

so you met up whenever you could. you partied a bit on the weekends; whenever school would let you. you held study sessions for entirely different subjects because you attended entirely different schools. he helped you move into your new place, and you helped him move out of his parents' house. he taught you how to cook because you were, in his words, absolutely shit at it. you taught him how to not kill all of the plants in his new apartment when he'd gotten tired of his college dorm, because he was, in your words, an incompetent plant dad.

you laughed, sometimes you cried, but mostly laughed. shared experiences and adventures that you still like to reminisce about to this day. and your friendship grew with them. it got more solid; sturdy. different, in more ways than one. and it's even more different now.

now that he's no longer a boy, but a man.

"hey," said man's voice brings you back to reality now. you blink as you feel his fingertips touch the sleeve of your sweater. his touch is warm as it always is. "you still in there, dummy?"

reaching down to pat the top of his head playfully, you try to ignore the way he angles it further into your palm as you say, "funny! but i can't stay tonight, kat."

he truly is just that: a cat. one that nearly purrs at your touch whenever it gets drunk, that nuzzles its face into the crook of your neck and that turns oddly clingy, too. but only when he feels like it. not you.

"sure ya can," he answers almost immediately even if his tongue feels way too heavy and slow to sit inside his mouth properly. the answer is simple but it's also assured. definite. like it's up to him to choose what you'll do. how you'll live.

come to think of it, maybe that wouldn't be so bad. your best friend does know you best. it's right there in the title.

a sigh leaves your lips at the thought as you look at him with slightly narrowed eyes now. he's relaxed; pleasantly tipsy because he allows himself to lower his guard down around you and drink more than he normally does with others. his irises are hazy and dark red instead of crystal clear, pupils big and eyelids as heavy as your heart. the signature spikes of ash blonde have turned sort of droopy and ruffled.

maybe they've absorbed some of the alcohol as well. it's funny to think about.

"katsuki," you start, stifling a chuckle, "you know that i've got work tomorrow-"

"c'mon," he interrupts with a mere murmur, his grip a surprisingly tenacious one to wrap around your wrist as he grabs it with his much bigger hand. "stay with me tonight."

"i can't," you repeat softly when he tugs at your hand for a second time. his fingers are so hot now that it feels like they're making your skin burn the moment they touch it, and you wonder if that's what the perps he's constantly chasing after experience whenever he gets close enough to use his quirk on the poor suckers.

there's a beat of silence between you before he chides, "can't or won't?"

"stop that." that makes me feel bad.

"well, you'd stay if you wanted to... just sayin'. 'cause i know you don't start work that early." he pauses to yawn. "but it's whatever, you do you. i don't care." i hope you do feel bad.

you don't respond to that. you don't know what to say. you never do.

so seconds pass. one, two, three.

"ugh... i didn't mean it like that," he says at some point as he rubs his temple. "i just-"

"it's fine. don't worry about it," you let out through a tight-lipped smile. "it's no biggie, really."

"it's not fine. just... lemme drive you to work tomorrow as an apology? i promise that i will, if you stay," he insists when he sees you starting to drift away again. pushes, because he wants to have his way with you. "please? i need you."

please.

you know what he actually wants, the thing he's been taking for months now, and yet the word still makes you fold because it's sweet and kind. makes you sigh again as you give in and pull your sweater over your head so that you can change into one of his t-shirts instead. makes you climb into bed with him the moment your jeans pool at your ankles and the comforter covers your bare legs. makes you allow him to wrap his arms around you in the too-tight way he prefers, but that leaves you awake, with your breaths awfully shallow in return.

because what matters most is that he's happy. and nothing makes him happier than when you're safe; right there in his arms, even if they do have a tendency to squeeze you just a little bit too much for your liking. even if they are just a little bit too possessive because you feel good, and good things must always be within reach to a man like him. only him, no other boys allowed.

please. it's so rare for him to say a thing like that that it almost tastes foreign on his tongue. but he still says it. just for you, no other girls involved.

please, he says as he presses your spine against his chest and sneaks his way under your - his - dynamight t-shirt, lifting it until the hem is touching the collar and your tits are exposed. please, he whispers whilst kissing your neck as that same hand glides all over your front in a way a best friend's shouldn't before he slides it into your panties instead.

please, he mumbles as his cock glides between your soaked folds a minute later; savouring the skin on skin contact even if it's messy and sticky all over. please, he grunts even if his sensitive tip already catches right at your fluttering hole and pushes in, in, in. until your breath hitches in your throat and your back arches in a way that makes you stick your ass out for him, as if in invitation even if you've never said the words.

please, he moans as he turns you over until you're laying flat on your stomach and he's pounding away like it's the last thing he'll do; making your curves jiggle and the headboard of the bed slam against the wall that's still covered in shadows. please, he grits out through clenched teeth when he feels your soaked pussy squeeze around him and try to push him out.

you're so close that you feel like your heart is about to give out any second now. he's heavy and too hot, too rough, too drunk; you need him out, out, out. you're going to burst if he doesn't stop because of how full you are.

"please, katsuki," you whimper, tears staining the pillow, his pillow that smells just like him as your nails claw at it until the softness is right inside your palms. it's all his.

"please, pretty," he says in return, pushing right back in. he's always pushing with everything. "just a lil' more for me. i need a lil' bit more from you." and you're gonna give it to me.

and yet your back arches again. and again. and again. accepting every thrust deeper, even if you said you couldn't. accepting his hand in your own because you're not afraid of the sparks and the danger it brings along - never had been. accepting the rude ignorance from your best friend in the heat of the moment because he otherwise does care about you.

he cares about you so much. just not while he's balls deep inside of you. just not while that same hand presses against the back of your neck so that he can gain the leverage to fuck into you better.

and it's your fault, or at least that's what he silently tells you with his actions. you made him like this. you crawled into bed with him. you let him take and take and take. he just asked. he used to be just fine on his own, but now he can't live without his best friend anymore. you're the pushy one. you, you, you.

and you also come with benefits he can't possibly resist.

[spectorcomplex]

golden ↦ aemond targaryen x martell!reader

Unfortunately for him she truly was unbowed and unbent. Aemond thinks it’d be satisfying to walk the path of breaking her.

pairing: aemond targaryen × fem!martell!reader (she/her pronouns)

warnings: nothing really? but probably the existence of such characters in canon are dubious at best so forgive a silly girl like me.

word count: 0.6k words

my masterlist

It has always been a garish color for him. Yellow, the color of sunlight. Prince Aemond has always preferred the moon, with its accompanying dark clouds there he flies Vhagar. The old lady does not seem to mind.

And yet, he cannot seem to look away from the golden silks that grace the floor of the throne room. He bows. Aemond does not recall the last time he has bowed for a woman besides his Queen Mother.

In a rare event, the Martells has agreed to visit King’s Landing. In all of his nineteen years as a royal Aemond has not met or even seen a seat holder of Sunspear. He only wishes he was prepared to invalidate the poetic waxed about their beauty. Much to his dismay, he rather agrees with their words.

“Princess Y/N Martell and Prince Oberyn Martell!”

Peculiar, how the lady was announced first. Later he comes to learn that you were to inherit Dorne as you were born minutes before your male twin.

He then sneers once realization hits him. Of course it was his half sister who invited you to King’s Landing. Female heirs uniting under patriarchal challenges. You’ve barely spoken to one another when Aemond makes up his mind about you. Disdain for Rhaenyra clouding his judgment. If you acquiesced to his half sister’s invitation after centuries of tension between the Iron Throne and Dorne then that means you were on her side. Aemond also decided that he was to avoid you at all costs during your visit. He wanted nothing to do with you.

But he also could do nothing against his mother’s orders. She told Aemond to accompany Helaena as she walked the gardens with you. And his infuriating nephew.

Any other noble lady would’ve scattered at the sight of Prince Aemond’s frown. He’s been told once or twice that his reputation precedes him. Right now he was not sure if the frown was genuine or just for show; to intimidate the Dornish Princess.

Unfortunately she truly was unbowed and unbent. Aemond thinks it’d be satisfying to walk the path of breaking her.

Her spirit, he means. Aemond shakes his head.

“Is there a problem, Uncle?” Jacaerys asks, in a surprising move of making conversation.

Aemond only huffs, eye focused on the caterpillar skittering on his sister’s hand.

“I dislike her too.”

That gets his attention.

“Then why are you here?” Aemond sneers, hating how he wanted to hear his nephew’s answer.

“I do not trust her,” Jacaerys shrugs.

Neither the two of them look at each other as they speak but only look forward at the two princesses.

“Your mother invited her,” Aemond replies.

“Still.”

And that was that. Only the soft whispering of the two ladies echo in the wind with the chirps of birds perched on the trees.

Jacaerys moves and Aemond’s hand instinctively goes to the hilt of his sword. The Velaryon does not see and sits down next to you with a smile.

“Princess Y/N,” Jacaerys starts. “How are you finding the warm weather here in King’s Landing?”

You mirror the smile and Aemond watches in caution. Was his bastard of a nephew lying to him? Pulling a joke like some child?

“It is lovely, Prince Jacaerys,” You answer, voice sweet and high pitched, “I have had hotter temperatures in my ancestral lands.”

The smile on his nephew is familiar. Deceitful.

“Ah yes, Dorne,” Jacaerys says. “Forgive me, Princess, but you do not quite look Dornish.”

You keep smiling, “And you do not look like what books say about Valyrians. My prince.”

Aemond gulps, a smirk itching to show on his face. Maybe you were not so awful. Maybe.

-+-

this will have multiple parts teehee 🤭 i was in the process of writing it and decided that it would be so much better to divide it (yes i did write oberyn no i am not sure if an oberyn martell existed in rhaenyra’s time) also my first time writing a longer fic in aemond’s pov and expect more of that because it’s so fun

reblogs and comments are appreciated <3 messages too i promise i will be reading them giggling and twirling my hair

[zapreportsblog]

I love your answer to the question I asked. My answer would have been Whitney Houston. She is either a siren or banshee. I would have paired her with Garrett or Charlie cannot decide who.

Twilight Request

Jasper/ Major x Female Reader

The reader has powers like Naruto Uzumaki but her nine tailed beast is a wolf that is white as snow. She has long black hair down to her hips when not put up. She knows many forms of martial arts and several languages and owns several katanas. She stands at 5 ft 11 inches. She likes reading mystery novels like Nancy Drew. Her favorite tv shows are Walker Texas Ranger, Murdoch Mysteries and Murder She Wrote. She goes to the Cullens when she gets word that Victoria has created an army of newborns and that a human is with them. She goes and offer her help to them.

At the training ground, she meets the pack. One of the wolves Paul says something rude to the reader. He goes to attack her but because of her power she has the strength to lift him and pin to the ground. She tells him his bad attitude is not welcome. Jasper/ The Major is her mate.

Feel free to add or change anything.

❝snowbound savior❞

✭ pairing : jasper hale x reader

✭ fandom : twilight

✭ summary : (Y/N), a striking young woman standing tall at 5 feet 11 inches, boasts not only flowing black hair that drapes down to her hips but also a unique gift – a nine-tailed wolf beast as white as freshly fallen snow. Her exceptional skills extend far beyond her mystical companion. Proficient in numerous martial arts and fluent in several languages, (Y/N) is a formidable force to be reckoned with. The narrative takes a thrilling turn when (Y/N) receives an urgent message: Victoria, a formidable adversary, has assembled an army of newborns and allied herself with an unsuspecting human. Driven by her sense of duty and a desire to protect, (Y/N) rushes to the Cullens, offering her formidable powers and unwavering support.

✭ twilight masterlist 2

The moon hung low in the midnight sky, casting a silvery glow over the quiet forest. (Y/N), a striking young woman with long, flowing black hair that cascaded down to her hips, stood alone among the trees. At 5 feet 11 inches, she possessed an aura of strength and mystery that drew the eye. But it was her unique gift that truly set her apart—the nine-tailed wolf, as white as freshly fallen snow, that loyally accompanied her.

She had been living a solitary life for as long as she could remember, ever since her powers had manifested. Her childhood had been a blur of confusion and fear, as she tried to comprehend the extraordinary abilities coursing through her veins. The snowy wolf, her constant companion, was her only solace in those early days of isolation.

Throughout history, she had been known as the "snowbound savior." Legends and tales had spoken of a white wolf with nine tails that appeared when one was in dire need of help. Villagers would tell stories around campfires, passing down the folklore of this mystical guardian who emerged from the depths of the forest to aid those in their darkest hours.

But (Y/N) knew the truth. She wasn't just a legend; she was real, and she carried the weight of her unique destiny on her shoulders. Her existence was a secret known only to a select few, those who had witnessed her powers firsthand or had heard whispers of the mysterious white wolf.

Tonight, beneath the silver canopy of stars, (Y/N) felt a strange restlessness in her spirit. It was as though the air itself carried an unspoken message—a call for help that only she could answer. The bond between her and the nine-tailed wolf seemed to hum with anticipation.

With a determined look in her eyes, (Y/N) turned and headed deeper into the forest, her faithful companion padding silently at her side. She didn't know where the call for help originated, but she trusted her instincts. The "snowbound savior" was on the move once again, ready to face whatever darkness lurked in the shadows and to offer her unique gifts to those in need.

The dense forest welcomed (Y/N) as she ventured deeper into its heart. Here, she felt at one with the world around her, a connection that ran deeper than blood. She wasn't just a woman with extraordinary abilities; she was a guardian of nature itself.

As she moved through the ancient trees, (Y/N) could hear the soft murmurs of leaves, the whispers of the wind, and the gentle rustling of creatures hidden in the underbrush. Nature spoke to her in a language few could comprehend, and in return, she listened and responded with reverence.

Today, however, the whispers were tinged with urgency. The very earth beneath her feet seemed to vibrate with concern. (Y/N) paused, her senses on high alert, and closed her eyes to better attune herself to the natural world.

"What troubles you, dear friend?" she murmured softly, her voice a melodious harmony with the forest's song.

In response, the wind carried a somber message, leaves rustled in distress, and the faint echo of a distant waterfall sounded mournful. Nature was trying to communicate something of great significance.

The revelation came like a thunderclap in her mind—a coven of vampires was in danger, and their fate was intricately entwined with the lives of the humans in the town they resided in, as well as a nearby clan of wolf-shifters. The balance of their existence hung in the balance, and the very fabric of the supernatural world trembled with uncertainty.

(Y/N) felt a surge of conflicting emotions. She had distanced herself from the supernatural world, seeking solitude and anonymity after years of bearing the mantle of the "snowbound savior." Her past involvements had left scars both physical and emotional, and she yearned for a simpler existence.

Yet, as she stood among the ancient trees, a profound sense of responsibility washed over her. She had a duty to protect not just the coven of vampires but also the humans and wolf-shifters who unknowingly depended on their presence.

With a heavy heart, (Y/N) raised her eyes to the heavens, her voice resonating with unwavering determination. "Nature, you have my word. I will do all that I can to help. For the sake of balance, for the sake of those in need, I will step once more into the world of the supernatural."

The forest around her seemed to sigh in relief, a symphony of gratitude and understanding. The bond between (Y/N) and nature deepened, and she knew that her path was now clear. The snowbound savior had been called to action once more, and she would honor her commitment to protect and preserve the fragile balance of the supernatural world.

The clearing deep within the forest was a training ground for the local wolf-pack, and tensions were running high as the group practiced their coordinated maneuvers. Alice, the perceptive and clairvoyant member of the Cullen family, watched their movements closely, her golden eyes scanning the scene with an intensity that never wavered.

Amidst the flurry of leaping and lunging wolves, Alice suddenly froze, her gaze distant as if seeing something beyond the immediate present. Her eyes glazed over, and her hand moved with precision as she sketched something onto a piece of paper with a swift hand.

Jasper, who had been sparring with some of the wolves, noticed Alice's sudden stillness and approached her with a concerned expression. "Alice, what is it? What did you see?"

Alice didn't respond immediately, her focus locked onto the sketch she was creating. It was an image of a white wolf with nine tails, each one flowing gracefully behind it. The creature's ethereal beauty was captured in intricate detail.

Edward, always attuned to Alice's visions, joined them, his brows furrowing in curiosity. "Alice, what's going on? What did you see?"

Alice looked up from her sketch, her eyes wide with a mixture of wonder and uncertainty. "I saw something, someone, I'm not entirely sure," she admitted. "But they're coming to aid us."

Edward's expression shifted from concern to relief. "Good. We can use all the help we can get."

Paul, who had been listening in, couldn't hide his skepticism. "More vampires?" he grumbled.

Alice shook her head, her eyes fixed on her drawing. "Actually, it looks to be a shifter like you all."

Confusion rippled through the group until Alice displayed her sketch for them to see. The wolves gathered around, their eyes widening in disbelief.

Sam, the pack's alpha, gasped as he recognized the image. "The snowbound savior," he breathed, his voice filled with astonishment. "But she's just a legend."

Before anyone could respond, a powerful howl pierced the air, resonating through the forest. It was a howl that carried an undeniable presence, one that demanded attention and respect.

Jasper turned his head toward the sound, his eyes narrowing as he listened. "Guess not," he murmured, his voice tinged with intrigue and a touch of apprehension.

As the echoes of the howl faded into the distance, the wolves and the Cullens exchanged uncertain glances. The arrival of the snowbound savior, a figure of myth and legend, had suddenly become a tangible reality. The balance of power in the supernatural world was about to shift, and none of them knew exactly what to expect.

The ground beneath their feet trembled violently, and at first, the Cullens, along with Sam's pack, believed it to be a catastrophic earthquake. Trees swayed, and the very earth seemed to roar with anger. But what followed was beyond anything they could have imagined.

From out of nowhere, a colossal figure emerged, towering over the treetops, and causing everyone to gasp in astonishment. An 836-foot white wolf, with nine magnificent tails that swirled like a majestic blizzard, stood before them. The sheer size and beauty of the creature left them breathless, their hearts pounding with a mixture of awe and trepidation.

For a moment, the forest fell into a hushed stillness, as if nature itself held its breath in the presence of this enigmatic being. Then, as if guided by an unseen force, the colossal wolf began to shift, its form flowing like liquid moonlight.

In mere seconds, the towering wolf transformed into a striking woman, fully clothed and with long black hair that cascaded down to her hips. Her piercing eyes, as ancient as the earth itself, regarded the assembly with a mixture of wisdom and curiosity.

"I suppose you must all be the ones of whom nature speaks," she remarked, her voice carrying a melodious quality that resonated with power.

Carlisle, always the composed and gracious host, stepped forward. "I beg your pardon, but who are you?"

The woman offered a warm smile, one that seemed to hold the secrets of the universe. "I am (Y/N)," she introduced herself. "Nature has warned me of impending danger to this town and the nearby clan of wolf-shifters. It seems our paths were destined to intersect."

Edward, ever the communicator of the family, stepped forward to explain their situation. "A vampire named Victoria is planning an attack with a newborn army. They seek revenge because we killed her mate some time ago."

(Y/N) nodded with understanding, her gaze distant for a moment. "I sympathize with her loss, but I will not allow her to bring death into this town."

As the conversation unfolded, Jasper, who had been watching (Y/N) intently, felt a sensation he hadn't experienced in centuries. It was the undeniable pull of the mate bond, a force that tied him to this extraordinary woman. His gaze remained locked on her, and his heart raced with a newfound intensity. In that moment, he knew that (Y/N) was not only the snowbound savior but also the missing piece of his own existence.

[velarisnightsky444]

Welcome

Mor x OC

Snippet from How to Disappear. OC(Samara) is the youngest Archeron sister. Important detail to know if you haven't read it is that she was mute until she was thrown into the Cauldron and Mor helped her learn to speak.

This takes place right after they get back from Hewn City in ACOWAR and Elain has that little seer moment. Two chapters before, Samara came out to Mor, but Mor hasn't come out to Samara.

Happy pride month.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

     I watched as Mor stepped out the front door. I frowned, turning my attention back to my sisters. They were silent.

"Is Elain alright?" I dared to ask.

     The two didn't respond--only glanced at each other, seeming to have a silent conversation that I was excluded from.

"May I go see her?" I went on when they didn't answer. 

"No, give her space," Nesta said to me. "I will check on her in a moment."

"Sammy, why don't you give Nesta and I a moment?" Feyre said gently. That gentle tone I hated so much; as if I couldn't handle being spoken to like an adult.

     I scoffed, irritated that I couldn't be a part of their conversation. I pushed passed them and stormed out the front door, glancing around for Mor. I squinted, my eyes adjusting to the dark. But I could see the moon reflecting off of her blonde hair.

     Luckily, it seemed she hadn't gone far. She was slowly stepping down the sidewalk. I furrowed my brows, trying to run to catch up to her. She had told me that running would be second nature, but I still found it difficult.

     I called her name, and she halted, turning around to face me. Tears continued to stream down her face.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, her tone sharp. I blinked at the sharpness.

"I wanted to make sure you're okay," I explained, finally reaching her side.

"Shouldn't you check on your sister?" she asked with a sigh.

"I wanted to, but Nesta wouldn't allow it," I shrugged, falling into step beside her.

     Mor scoffed, shaking her head. I frowned, glancing at her to find out what exactly she was scoffing at.

"What?" I demanded.

"Why do you let her make all of your decisions for you?" she asked me.

"I went to Hewn City without her permission," I reminded her.

"Is that the only time you've disobeyed her?" Mor wondered, raising a brow. I frowned again, thinking it over.

"I don't know," I admitted with a shrug. "She's my eldest sister. She's the only autho-rity I've ever had."

"Authority," Mor corrected, saying it differently than I had. "You said it wrong. It seems I'm not as good of a teacher as I thought I was."

"Hush," I rolled my eyes, shoving her shoulder. She chuckled, a bit of light coming back to her pretty face. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"There's a bar further in the city," she explained to me.

"You were going out drinking alone?" I teased her. She smiled, but shook her head.

"This bar is different," she said. "Everyone goes, but it's mostly for . . . people like us."

"People like us?" I repeated, glancing at her with confusion in my eyes.

     But then, I remembered what she had said to me. 'It's hard,' she had said. 'Keeping such a huge part of yourself from the people you love.'

"People like us," she confirmed with a nod.

"Oh," I said, brows raising. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Nobody knows," she confessed. "Not even my family."

"Oh," I repeated, this time in an understanding tone.

     I wasn't ready to tell Feyre or Elain. Elain because I wasn't sure if she would be utterly scandalized, and Feyre because I was scared she would see me differently. If Nesta hadn't figured it out herself, I wasn't sure I would've told her, either. I knew my sisters wouldn't shun me or be ashamed of me for it--not like my mother would've been. But I just wasn't ready to confide in them, yet.

     As we walked on, I carefully slipped my hand in hers. Instead of batting it away like I expected her to, she took it, intertwining our fingers.

     Neither of us spoke for the rest of the walk, but having her hand in mine was a reassuring feeling that made me smile a bit.

     We got to the bar--Rita's--about ten minutes later. It didn't seem too crowded; Mor said that it really only got bad on the weekends.

     She grinned, the life coming back to her eyes as she stepped inside. I saw it then, why she was so scared of her father coming into the city. He would take away the little things that gave her happiness. She wouldn't even be able to walk to the bar without fear of seeing him.

"Morrigan!" a female's voice chimed.

      Mor practically squealed, letting go of my hand to hug the female. This female had curly, red hair and a darker complexion. Her eyes were deep green, and she was wearing a blue dress.

"Rita, this is Samara," Mor introduced me.

     Rita--who I assumed was the owner--smiled at me. I went to shake her hand, but instead, she stepped forward, embracing me. I froze for a second, shocked by the affection, but carefully returned the hug.

"Welcome, Samara."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

[myfandomprompts]

𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭 | 𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝟖)

Summary: You cross the Demarcation Line, and nothing is supposed to frighten you. Previous Part - Masterlist

Tags: I really don't want to spoil, but no trigger warning

French spoken -> italics

The moon is only a crescent in the sky, sending little light over your path as you are led through the poplar trees, their falling branches grazing the crown of your head. You barely see where you put your feet in the dark, but you can easily discern the shadowy forms of your group all around you, feeling the heat of Tom’s hand right beside yours as you all walk in silence.

The bearded man leads you to a deciduous border of the river, the croaking of frogs dying down as you approach the water, its rippling movements making the moonlight reverberate on the surface and you can see a little better. The bottom of the riverbed looks deep, black as the reflection of branches falling over the edge looms over it, so close to the surface its leaves dip in the water. 

The man crouches in silence at the edge and starts rummaging through the dirt. Next to you, Tom looks at him confused. “Does he expect us to swim for it?”

He only earns a dark glare from the man and the next moment a heavy chain is dug from the ground with a rattling sound. When he pulls, something in the water moves and you start to notice the shape of wooden planks coming out from under the branches.

“It’s… sunk,” Henriette says under her breath as the bark slowly comes closer to where you stand with a soft burbling sound. Only the edges of the embarkation stand out of the water when the rest of it is filled with it.

“Nothing escapes your eyes, hein?” the man answers in a murmured voice as he keeps pulling on the chain. “They forbade all means of navigation on the river. That’s why we sink them, and that’s why I’ll need all of you to help me bail the water out, so get at it.”

You all look at each other before doing as told, pulling the boat half way out of the water with great difficulty before the man instructs you to tip it over to the side. “Let it drip slowly, otherwise the noise will attract the patrols.”

“The patrols?” murmurs Giulia in alarm, slightly out of breath by the effort of lifting the heavy bark. “How often? When is the next one?”

“Calmez-vous, they won’t come if we’re quiet. I have a good lad standing guard on the path, so if a patrol comes, we’ll know, and then we’ll see if how well you can swim.”

You grimace at the dark humour, glancing at the heavy bag at your feet and heart hammering at the thought that you could be discovered at any moment, your eyes scanning the trees aimlessly. You feel the others do the same, but you bring back your focus on the slippery wood between your hands.

“And you trust him?” Giulia presses.

“I don’t trust anyone, ma grande. And yet, here we all are.”

You all fell into a poised silence, listening to the water being spilled over the dirt and back in the river. Once the water has been emptied from the boat, the iron chain is unclasped from a tree trunk and the boat pushed back on the surface quietly. You’re the first to go onboard, the humid wood dampening your skirt as you sit at the nose, Henriette following you closely. The man mounts last before pushing the dirt with the help of a long pole, making the boat drift away silently.

Far away over the flat surface you notice a faint light, as if floating above the river. You wonder if it comes from the guard house on the bridge that made you turn away and meet this peculiar man, the bridge that would have cost you your brother, your friend, and… Tom.

He sits at the other side of the boat, his face barely visible but you can still see his fingers gripping the wood anxiously, his face turning to glance everywhere; under the water, over and away from it, scrutinising the river banks like expecting German shouts at any moment. Each sound you make reverberates over the surface, travelling across it like an echo and even the sounds of nature around don’t cover the deafening sound you think your breathing makes.

You don’t simply cross, the boat taking you upriver and gliding along its right side to remain hidden as you move through the high herbs and under the trees. Then, a turn, and you depart from the north bank to slide to the other side, the light somewhere far away now completely out of view.

You keep on until you can see the other side more clearly, its yellow sand visible only some metres within reach. You hear the pole graze the stone as the man slows down and soon, the hard pebbles hit the hull in a rolling sound. 

“Merde!” he curses as the bark comes to a full stop.

“What?” asks Albert nervously.

The man takes a deep breath. “The water lowered more than I thought. The boat can’t go further, but there is more depth past this point.”

You look overboard, right there below you where aquatic plants swirl under the shiny surface, so close you can touch it. But beyond, black again, a secluded cove that won't allow you to reach your goal.

“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to wade the rest of the way,” he says in a sorry tone.

Your gaze is still fixed on the water, observing it closely, trying to decipher where the water dips again. “I’ll go first.”

Both Tom and Albert make an immediate movement when you start taking off your shoes and stockings, but it dies quickly as they sit back down without a word, glancing at each other uncomfortably. You tuck the bottoms into your bag and clasp your shoes on the straps before passing your feet overboard with purpose.

Henriette helps you find your grounding, the cold water surrounding your ankles and you start dabbling forwards, bracing yourself for the moment the water will rise again. When it does, it reaches right above your navel, sending a shiver down your spine. You hold your bag high over your head as you advance, your skirts hindering your movement slightly until you feel something around you and you gasp, stopping at once.

“Y/N! What is it?” Henriette calls, her voice strained as she tries to not raise her voice.

“It’s just… River mud, I think,” you answer with a disgusted tone as you look down, feeling the sediment stick to your clothes and skin, slimy and wet. You keep advancing, gradually feeling the steepness of the edges of the riverbed lower and the next moment you’re out of the water.

You drop your bag safely into dry ground before putting a hand over your hips, trying to wipe away the mud before gesturing to your friends on the water, telling them it’s safe to cross.

One by one they dive, Henriette first, then Tom, who doesn't say a word when he reaches the mud but you’re sure you can see him wince, followed closely by Albert. Giulia comes last, and you hear the murmured exchange over the water as you’re still trying to get rid of the mud over your clothes.

“You have the letters?” the man asks her as she stands up. When she answers yes, patting her bag where she sewed the precious envelopes inside the lining, he keeps on. “You remember the pathway?”

“Keep going south until we see a church, then find a house with bright red doors.”

“Good.”

The rest of the conversation is lost when Albert’s body comes to block your view and you busy yourself searching for a flashlight in your bag. Tom towers over you, letting out a disgusted sound when he looks at his hand, green and black with river slime. You chuckle at the sound. 

When Giulia reaches the sand, the bark behind her is sliding away on the river like a quiet shadow, almost like it had never been here under the crescent moon that makes your surroundings so beautifully frightening.

You never got to thank him.

“Alors?” Albert whispers as soon as Giulia has stepped on the ground. So?

“He refused again. I told him that our operation would need men like him, truly good men and that I will certainly be back if this trip succeeds. He just… I guess he is just scared.”

You’re sure you see your brother pat Giulia’s back in comfort as you stand up again, trying to dry your skirt and putting back your shoes. You’ve made it to the other side, and now everything looks brighter.

You’re drenched to the waist, cold and dirty. The other wears the same appearance, clothes clinging to their skin with focused expression as you move through the night. Only when you find a path do you finally light the lamps, slowly coming to the realisation that you are now in non-occupied territory, that you’re close, very close to the moment where you would see your parents again. Your family is at the end of the path, and the hardest is behind you.

You internally laugh at that, your stomach feeling instantly heavy at that false statement, matching the coldness of your feet, legs, and hips as you glance at Tom’s back. If anything, what comes next will be hard, heart-wrenching. Heartbreaking.

“So… You like him?”

Henriette is way ahead of you, arguing over where to go with Giulia as Tom listens in, a half smirk on his lips over the female bickering, as if all danger for him had been left behind in that river.

You shrug in false musing, escaping your brother’s gaze, remembering his gobsmacked expression in the barn some hours ago. “Well, yes, what is there not to like?”

“Don’t pretend not to understand my meaning, soeurette.”

You give him a fleeting glance, fumbling with the damp fabric of your clothes, a fishy smell reaching your nostrils. “Yes, I like him… You like Giulia?” you ask at once, not letting Albert time to react to your admission.

He isn’t fazed, rather looking in deep thought with furrowed brows before he answers. “I… guess so. She is lively. She asked me to join her organisation, once they establish a route. Could help the likes of your beau to cross, become a smuggler.”

“Mum and dad would be unhappy about it, find it too dangerous.”

“Well, too bad, that wouldn’t stop me from wanting to help,” he states with a scoff before turning his head to you. “Would it stop you?”

You glance back at Tom, your now dry fingers tickling with the remnants of the heat from his skin, of the soft glow of his eyes and the words he had whispered against your lips. There was nothing that would stop you from taking him out of hell, if needed be, even with your life on the line.

Your eyes widen at the unexpected strength of the thought, surprising yourself but knowing at your core that you meant every word. You force yourself to wipe the stupefied expression on your face by taking a deep breath, your next words uttered with purpose. “No. No, it wouldn’t.”

An hour passes without any church in sight, the clouds in the sky hiding the moonlight and you stop to examine the map that was given to you. You try to help, sure that you’re still on the right path and you just have to keep going but you’re ignored, their doubts making them double-check every line on paper and you step back, convinced that they will eventually arrive at the same conclusion as you.

“You know, I’ve been thinking…” Tom says as he comes to stand beside you with a hidden smile, leaving the French-speaking group behind. “I’ve been in this country for weeks, and I can’t even say a proper sentence in French. What do you say you teach me a little, eh?”

You can’t help but frown in amusement, taken aback by the proposition. “I didn’t know you were interested in actually learning.”

“Well, there's a start for everything, innit? And I heard you’re one hell of a teacher.”

You brush off the compliment with a grin, knowing full well that Tom has no idea of what he is saying, but you still feel blood reach your cheeks. 

A few feet from you the map is folded and you are on the move again, heading exactly in the direction you had previously suggested. 

“I’ll consider it,” you nod as you follow suit towards the south, Tom’s arm brushing yours. “We could start with the basics.”

“The basics, uh? And what would that be?”

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt if you learned how to say ‘thank you’ for example.”

“Outch, that hurts.”

You laugh along with him, enjoying how it warms your skin and by the time you try to make him pronounce “église”, the church appears over the horizon, its bell tower looming over a small hamlet, making you all exhale in relief. When you reach it, you all fall quiet, anticipation coming back in force when you find the house with the red doors, its length taking half of the street and two stories high. When you take a step back, you can see a faint light filtering through an upstairs window.

“Why is no one knocking?” Tom’s voice breaks the silence, looking between the door and your group in genuine confusion.

Giulia turns to look at him. “Because it’s one hour in the morning and we don’t know if… Well, there is no certainty they will take our visit kindly. We can’t just-”

But before she can finish her sentence, Tom raises his eyebrows at her and approaches the door, giving it three strong bangs before coming back to your side, rolling his shoulders jubilantly. “Should have taught me ‘knock and it’ll open’ in French, this way we wouldn’t be out here freezing like gits.”

And it did open. Slightly at first, a single eye watching you through the crack before opening in full, a man appearing with a rifle lazily hanging at his arm. “Yes?”

You all take a small step back in fright, Albert’s expression turning dark in wariness at the length of the barrel but Henriette stands her ground. “Bonsoir, we just came from uhm… Gièvres, we crossed the river. The man at the farm indicated this house, he told us you could help us? Please, we just want to rest.”

The door opens completely, the light coming out from inside blinding you and you can’t decipher the man’s expression as he speaks. “Well, look at you, lot! He made you ford the river, didn’t he? The rascal. Come in, come in.”

Relief passes through all of you, shoulders relaxing as you take the invitation, stepping into a welcoming living room. 

“Who is it?” you hear a small female voice in the distance.

“Gifts from Raymond!” the man at the door yells once it is tightly shut behind you and putting the rifle away. "Please, come in, I’ll make you something warm.”

You have no time to mutter a thank you as a woman with an unravelled bun in a dressing gown enters the room, looking tired but enthusiastic. “Well, quite the number! What happened to you?”

“Crossed the river, the smell and mud doesn’t leave a doubt, darling.”

“Oh, poor things… I’ll get you clothes for the night and you’ll give me yours to wash. They’ll be ready tomorrow. Yes, I’ll do that.”

She mutters more things about finding the right size as she quickly glances at each of you before leaving the room in a trot, her robes flying behind her.

“That’s my wife, Germaine, and I’m Charles,” he introduces, coming to shake Henriette's hands who give him a warm smile before doing the same to the rest of you. “No difficulties, then? No boches bothering you?”

For the first time since you’ve entered, you're finally able to speak, and Henriette quickly narrates your adventures along with the reason for your delay while he serves you an herbal tea that smells strongly of citrus. Minutes later, his wife, Germaine, comes back with a pile of clothes in her arms. She hands it to you with a tender smile, her eyes glowing with compassion as she tells you that she made three rooms available for the night.

“And here is for you…” she stops before Tom to look at him warmly. “You look like my brother, he fought in the first war… Handsome as you, he was. Same size too, you’ll do fine in those.”

Tom takes the clothes with a tentative hand, seemingly at a loss by the way Germaine stares at him with nostalgic eyes. He glances at you for help, so you mouth a silent and encouraging ‘thank you’, watching him turn again to mutter a respectful “Merci, Madame” and your chest swells with pride.

The woman is quick to hide her face, tears at the brim of her eyes before pretending to busy herself with the cups you left behind. 

“British? Are you a pilot, son?”

Charles’ English surprises all of you before Tom finds the good sense to answer. “No, I’m not, sir. I was in the Navy,” he repeats with a tired smile. “Just trying to make it home.”

“Brave lad,” the man answers compassionately before turning to Henriette. “I take it you have letters?”

Giulia is the one to move to open her bag and scissors it, revealing five envelopes she hands to him. He examines each one of them under the light of an oil lamp before taking one out of the pile. “Germaine, there is one for you.”

His wife comes to take it with a trembling hand while Charles tucks the rest of the letters in a large vase, brushing his hands together as the woman starts ripping the paper of her new acquisition. 

“Right, let me show you your rooms, we have plenty of space… I’ll let you figure out who goes with who- Jeanine, what are you doing up? Go back to bed!”

As he leads you up the stairs, you spot a blond-headed girl, no more than 17 years old observing you from the threshold of her room. “I heard voices..." she says with a sweet voice, looking at you with inquisitive eyes.

“These people will stay with us until tomorrow, they need a discreet place to sleep. You can say hi to them in the morning.”

Jeanine doesn’t move, eyes raking over each of your faces before stopping on Tom, and she straightens her posture at once, pink staining her cheeks. “Hi.”

Tom blinks, momentarily surprised before greeting her back softly. Your eyes don’t leave the girl’s face as she smiles kindly at him in turn, her green eyes gleaming brightly. But then you are led to three small bedrooms on the second floor and you forget about the weird feeling in your chest, coming to share a bed with Henriette while Giulia takes a single room, leaving Tom and Albert to take two remaining single beds further away down the corridor.

You are awakened by the nearby sound of the bell, ringing eight times before you stretch over the comfy bed, light filtering through the windows. Henriette is still asleep next to you, face peaceful and free of the dread she wore since Paris, since the persecution started. It's a warming sight, one you would wish upon everyone, a tranquillity found again. 

The house looks truly different in the daylight, and you remark how huge it is. The corridor is long, there is a first floor you haven’t been able to visit yet and behind the house lies a small vegetable garden and peach trees that make your mouth water. 

The clothes you wear are comfortable, their warmth accompanying you through the night but you still carry the faint odour of the river and some of the mud is still clinging to your skin. When you arrive at the breakfast table, you learn that your own clothes will be dry in a short while and are left to enjoy the delicious meal you are offered, toasts and eggs along with warm beverages. 

The atmosphere is delightful, your hosts bombarding you with questions about your travels and what you have seen. Albert seems to interest them the most and you try not to be too bothered by Jeanine’s obvious fascination for Tom. Worst for you, the latter had only looked uncomfortable for a short while before starting to smile back at her and she had brightened like the sun.

Well, you couldn’t exactly blame her. 

You stay seated for a good amount of time, enjoying fresh food and milk, learning that your host's generosity has no bounds when they speak about driving you back all the way to your aunt's. Albert politely refuses at once, and you suspect that he shares the same reluctance to shorten the trip as you do, the prospect of finally leaving Tom and Giulia be on their way weighing heavy in your chests.

With the morning sun, your clothes were ready rather quickly, and you are all invited to take turns to use the lavatory at the other side of the house. You quickly wash up, getting rid of the remaining dirt and doning your familiar blouse and skirt before heading to the living room where Henriette is calmly listening to the wireless with Germaine and Charles. You listen as well, learning of the settling of the French Government in Vichy and its collaboration with Germany. You feel overwhelmed; France is divided, Hitler having gotten what he wanted, Great-Britain is next.

You fumble with your earrings anxiously as you listen to the distorted voice, exchanging frightened glances with your friends at the reports before you notice that one of them is missing from your ear. You stand up at once, excusing yourself and proceed to search the house for it, starting by your room and retracing your steps of the morning.

You’re about to enter the lavatory but the shuffling sounds inside stops you. Instead you knock gently on the door, listening to the sounds come to a stop. “... c’est… non libre.”

You smile at Tom’s clumsy French, lowering your hand over the door. “It’s me, I’m looking for something but I’ll come back lat-”

The door swung open, Tom appearing before you wearing only pants that hang low on his waist and suspenders loose on the side, his damp skin slightly glistening with the fresh wash he just had. “What are you looking for?”

“Hum… My earring…” you mumble, trying to focus. “It’s opal, have you seen it?”

“Hold on.”

He leaves you on the threshold and you can’t help but step inside, watching him disappear where you know the sink to be and coming back with something in his hand. “Is that it?”

“Yes!” you exclaim, relief flowing over you at the sight. “It was my grandmother’s… I can’t lose that one.”

There is a silence in which you try to put the jewellery back on your ear. “It suits you.”

You feel stupid for blushing again, but it’s Tom, and you can’t seem to help it. He smells good, a soapy scent coming from his morning glowing skin, his eyes searching your face with a soft smile. You lower your gaze bashfully under his scrutiny, and it lands right where his wound is on his shoulder, blue and yellow. It’s the first time you see it, and you part your lips in surprise, feeling your fingers drawn to it, coming to trace the bruises that spread around it, right above his pectoral. 

He inhales slightly at the touch, muscles tensing under your digits. “Does it still hurt?”

“Not that much,” he answers with several octaves lower, tilting his head to the side. “But what’s most important is right… here.”

His hand comes to grab yours softly to put it on his chest, right between his ribs where you can feel his heart beating steadily, much more so than yours. The gesture makes you take a shaky breath, unsettled by the electricity that passes through the palm over your hand and you refuse to look at anything else for a while, unable to let go of the sensation of life.

A soft smile dresses your lips in contemplation, and you feel him lean in closer.

“I’ve been thinking about it… About that kiss,” he murmurs.

His voice fans over your skin, his lips moving out of the corner of your eyes but you still can't bring yourself to meet his eyes, the events of the barn swirling in your mind like a dream. “Me too, Tom… But we shouldn’t have…”

You sense the confusion coming from him in waves and he shifts a little, his hand over yours staying firmly in place. “Why?”

You can’t find the words, your brain already a bubbling mess. “Because… you know why… We aren’t even a thing, for starters, and-”

“Well, it’s not for lack of trying. I told you once that you wouldn’t get rid of me that easily, Y/N.”

You shake your head, biting your lips with a weak smile as you come to finally raise your gaze at him, finding his hard expression and so soft eyes staring back at you. “We both know what’s at the end of the road… Each of us will go our way…"

When he talks, his voice is fierce, poised, a velvet sound that makes you forget how to breathe momentarily. “Yeah, that’s why I say that we make every moment count.”

You watch him before letting out a sigh, one hand coming to cup the back of his neck, needing him closer, to make the words real if can be. “You make it sound so easy…”

You think he is going to respond but he only leans into your touch and unconsciously wet his lips, drawing your eyes there, making your nails graze his nape and you just stare. When your lips touch his it’s soft, warm, tasting like mint and you find that nothing else tastes as good. He plays with it tenderly, as if he is afraid you’ll flee.

There are no other sounds but the one you make together along with his voice when he speaks against your mouth, his thumb caressing the side of your jaw. “... Where are the others?”

You smile against his mouth at the same words echoing from last night, the feeling that came after still so fresh in your mind. “Henriette is in the living room with Charles and Germaine, Jeanine I don’t know… My brother and Giulia are-”

“Somewhere together.”

He wears that satisfied expression, hindered slightly by the way his eyes are fixed on your lips when you answer. “Yes.”

“So… not around.”

You dig your fingers a bit more at the back of his neck as you shake your head slightly. “No, not around…”

It’s a silent permission, all that Tom needs to pull you back to him, the hand over yours leaving it to cup the other side of your face as he runs his tongue over your lips, meeting yours heatedly and stealing the air from your lungs, as if it’s been the only thing on his mind since the barn.

You don’t think anymore, you just feel when one of his hands lowers to your waist, your own travelling along his abs, his chest and up his shoulder before joining your other hand in his hair. When you trap his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging it slightly, he groans, his hands coming to grab your hips in reaction and you feel yourself be backed up to the counter against the wall. Your legs parts as he bends your knee to put it around his waist, hoisting you up easily. “You’re sure it’s okay on there?”

You chuckle gently, coming to work your mouth over his freshly shaved jaw with wet kisses as you answer, out of breath, smiling. "Anywhere is freaking okay, Tom.”

A strangled sound resonates within his throat, one you can feel as you leave a trail of kisses along his neck before you feel his hands come over your blouse to undo each button with surprisingly steady fingers. You barely leave him space to do his task, not relenting the attack over his neck and feeling his heartbeat there, connected with yours that feels so loud. When your last layer comes off he stills, his eyes raking over you form with pupils blown wide as he takes a step back and you mourn for the loss of the tender flesh of his neck as his hands unconsciously squeeze your thighs. You let him have this moment of bliss before you decide that you can’t wait anymore and bring him back to you, tugging at the waistband of his pants in a swift motion.

The dampness of his skin meets your stomach, heat spreading inside of it gradually while one of his hands travels to your ribs, to your breasts. You enjoy the sensation of need it gives you while you swallow his short breaths, his hunger that grows within him. Your hands dive between your two bodies, unfastening his belt and pants before you allow yourself to run a hand up and down his length, feeling it hardening under your palm, just for you.

It’s exhilarating, how unsettled he looks, how badly you need him and the sounds he makes while he bites your lips, almost making you lose focus on the way your fingers brush his tip and he twitches within your palm. One of his hands lowers to your stomach, in between your thighs but you only let his warm fingers graze the inside of it before you stop him. You make him stare at you when you guide him near your entrance, shifting over the counter while his eyes become hooded, lips parting in expectation, the muscles of his lower stomach tightening. You make him slide against your folds once, twice before he enters you, his cock stretching you slightly and you can’t help but chuckle in bliss. It’s overwhelming, jolts of electricity passing through you, a soft numbness taking over your body, the feeling of him that makes you bite your lip and you feel pleasure building as he kisses you deeply, ragged breaths mingling as he sets a steady pace inside of you, taking control.

The angle forces you to arch your back, to brace yourself over the counter but he doesn’t let you, bringing you in his arms and wrapping your legs around his waist to make you cling into him, bodies closer as ripples of ecstasy build into your core, his forehead against yours.

All that your mind can think about is him. “Tom…”

“You told me you would teach me the basics,” he says through panting breaths, a wicked smile over his lips as his nose digs into your cheek. “Seems to me as good a moment as any other.”

“What?” you say when you’re able to comprehend what he is saying. feeling the pleasure in your abdomen spiralling out of control as he thrust into you. “I’m not teaching you while- Oh mon Dieu!”

“That’s it, Y/N,” he praises immediately in a grunt, the snap of his hips becoming deeper, faster. “Tell me what I want to hear.”

His hand comes to flatten over your folds and you see white when his thumb begins to stroke your bud mercilessly, making you grip his shoulders with force, uncontrolled heavy moans escaping your mouth as he hits a particularly sweet spot inside of you.

“God, Tom, you’re so… cocky…” you manage to say through a tight laugh, your back hitting the counter as you feel him move faster.

“But that’s what you like about me, right?” he grins, taunting right against your face as he watches the way you knit your brow and try to quiet your moans.

“Yes… yes I do.”

“Want to repeat that, love?”

He hits a sensible spot inside of you when you understand what he wants, making you scream as fire surges into your core. “Oui, j’aime ça, Tom!”

The sound he makes is inhuman as you come undone, tension snapping inside of you and you feel him bracing himself not to be pushed over the edge. The knot inside your stomach loosen and he is barely able to accompany you through it, withdrawing to spill his seed on your stomach with huffy breaths. You take a moment to recover and when you open your eyes, seeing him out of breath and completely unhinged with his softening cock in his hand. You can’t help but bring his face back to yours again in a kiss, swallowing the last sound of his own ecstasy.

“Do you think they heard us?” you ask shyly, running your fingers through his hair after swiping it away from his sweaty forehead.

“They definitely heard you.”

His smile makes you giggle and hit him affectionately, the hotness of your blood having difficulty to cool down and he swallows it with a kiss in turn. “I feel like I’ve improved in French, though.”

“Oh yeah?” you tease, raising an interested eyebrow over your forehead. “I don’t think you can use any of what I said in public.”

“Maybe, but I still got three words coming into mind.”

“Which ones?” you say in satisfaction, your body still experiencing the bliss of your high.

But his eyes harden, losing their humour and you are left to stare at him curiously, his chest still pressing over yours, heaving. “Three very known words… That everybody knows. They do say French is the language of love, don’t they?”

Your smile drops, his gaze feeling so much heavier on you now, even with the enticing way the corner of his lips curve. You panic.

You’re not ready. He is not ready. You can’t hear those words, not now. “Tom…”

His expression falls, mouth tensing as he speaks. “Yeah… Okay, I know.”

He looks sad and it breaks your heart, guilt flooding over you, your hammering heart screaming to give him what he wants, what you want. But then he gives you a quick kiss on your forehead before caressing the side of your jaw and you just stare at him fondly, trying to not beg him to say the words, to not say them yourself. You’re not ready.

Are you?

“We’ll have to get a wash again…” you say low as you glance at your stomach and the state of your two bodies.

He takes a cloth next to him and starts wiping his seed off your skin pensively. “Or… we could go for a second round and see what we can do about it after that.”

You’re tempted, very tempted. “They’ll come looking for us.”

“We hide, then,” he states as he takes hold of your knees to pull you to him again.

The rest is lost in soft laughter, replaced by moans of pleasure and lewd sounds of flesh when he makes you see stars with his fingers, first, then when you make him groan by riding him on the fragile looking chair at the opposite side of the room, not caring when it breaks under both your weight and sends you on the floor

When you finally step out of the room, all washed up and fresh, skin still hot and blood filled with bliss, it’s like nobody had expected anything else but to see you enter the living room together. Even Giulia had abandoned her usual anxious expression to take on a happy one as she stands next to Albert, looking at you through knowing eyes.

But you all drop the happy act when it’s time to say goodbye to your hosts, with buses timetables and new maps in hand. Wherever you go, it’ll be quicker now.

Part 9

A/N: Thank you @babyblue711 & @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan as always, don't know how to thank you, really.

Trad: soeurette = sis'

@chainsawsangel@mischiefmanaged71@depressedperson88@enchantingcupcakecollectionfan@yentroucnagol@tssf-imagines @nightdiamond8663 @lauraneedstochill @unleashthelion @helaenaluvr @omgkatherine01 @launotfound @r0segard3n

[dira333]

Father and Son - Spock x reader -  part 1

part 2

if you remember reading this on tumblr, good to see you again, old friend. I’m reposting this back on tumblr.

Prompt: “But why is the moon gone?” - Spock

“And Franklin the toad looked up at the sky, searching for the moon that was gone. He looked between the stars, behind the sun and at the edges of the sky where the twilight twinkled, but he couldn’t find it-”

“But why is the moon gone?” The little boy asks.

You sigh softly, looking down into dark questioning eyes.

“Well, Franklin the toad is asking the same thing. Do you want me to read more to find out?”

“Is it New Moon?” The boy asks, “Father explained that during New Moon the Moon isn’t visible from earth.”

“That is true. Do you know why?”

“Sun and Moon have aligned in a way that Earth is on the opposite side of it so that the side of the moon that’s facing Earth is lacking the light of the sun.”

“That’s right. How smart of you.” You push your fingers through his dark hair and watch him blush a proud shade of green.

“Are you going to read me the rest of the story?”

“Do you want me to?” You ask, “Your Dad asked me to stay with you until you fall asleep but we don’t have to read stories for children if you’re so grown up already.”

“Well grandfather told me that grandmother used to read stories to father too, so yes please.”

You smile at that. Who would have thought that Commander Spock has a soft heart for Children’s stories?

“He looked between the stars, behind the sun and at the edges of the sky where the twilight twinkled, but he couldn’t find it and Franklin grew worried. The moon was his friend and as a friend, he had to look out for the moon…”

-

“And Franklin looked up at the sky and waved to his friend, the moon, who waved back, happy to be home again.”

You close the book softly, looking down at the boy who’s sound asleep now. You right the thin blanket around his feet, pulling yourself away from him before you get up and press the panel to open the door.

Commander Spock is waiting right outside.

“He’s asleep,” you tell him, “Franklin the toad can get every child to sleep.”

“How is he?” He asks, touching your shoulder lightly to get a better look on how you’re feeling.

You’re calm, collected and convinced when you answer.

“He is feeling well. He is not afraid of speaking about you or his grandparents, although he hasn’t really spoken about his mother. He does not seem traumatized, nor is he asking about home.”

“Thank you for your assessment.”

He takes his hand back and turns as if he wants to leave. You should leave it at that.

You’re just a communication officer with a degree in psychology. You’re just a crewman he trusts with assessing with his son but not enough to have told you of this son beforehand.

It seems that hardly anyone on board had none of the little boy or his mother, an Ambassador raising their child on Phi13 until she became fatally ill and couldn’t care it anymore.

Commander Spock does not seem to mourn her, but Vulcan’s aren’t really known for showing their emotions openly.

Commander Spock also does not seem to know what to do with the child he could have only seen during short leaves.

You don’t know what has gotten into you if you have a soft spot for the child or the man or both, but you take his elbow, stopping the Commander from getting away.

“I don’t want to push myself onto you, but what are you going to do?”

“What are you referring to?”

“The boy. Your son, commander. Are you going to keep him here or leave the ship to go to New Vulcan or Phi13 with him?”

He raises his eyebrows at you, telling you without words that you’re overstepping unwritten boundaries.

If you want to say anything else about this topic, you have to say it fast.

“I apologize beforehand for my choice of words, but you don’t seem familiar with him. The long time apart might have estranged you from each other. I’d like to help you get to know each other so you can decide wisely, considering his wishes as well as yours.”

You look up at him, almost breathlessly, adding a soft “Please” when he does not respond immediately.

“One week,” he tells you, “To show me progress.”

-

“Hey!” You peek around the corners of Commander Spock’s ready room that has been temporarily turned into the child’s room, “Do you want to play a game?”

The boy sets down the PADD he must have been reading on, looking at you. He looks just like his father, the same eyes, the same hair and haircut, just his nose is a tiny bit different and he has a softer way of talking that he must have learned from his mother.

“What game do you have in mind?”

“I suppose you know chess?” You step into the room, holding up an old-fashioned Terran version of the popular game.

The boy has the audacity to roll his eyes at you.

“There are more advanced versions of this that would be more challenging.”

“Well, I’m sorry, that standard chess is not challenging enough for you,” you tell him, remembering with a smile that he’s still only 8 years old, “Because today’s task is not winning, but teaching. You’ll have to teach me how to play first.”

“You don’t know chess?” He looks utterly surprised at that fact.

“When I was your age,” you tell him, “There used to be a cafe down the street where we went to every day. I helped to serve and learned sentences in as many languages as I could to greet the customers.”

“Your parents have a cafe?” He asks, setting up the game.

“They had. They sold it so they could travel the world before they retire.”

“Are they still alive?” He asks and you smile at him.

“They are. I got a holo message from Mumbai last week. If you want I can show it to you later.”

“Maybe,” he tells you, pointing towards the Chess game, “Let us play first.”

-

You hear the door swish and keep another smile to yourself. Right on time.

“Oh, Commander Spock,” you turn to send him a smile, “Your son is teaching me how to play Chess. Why don’t you take a seat and watch? I think I’m a pretty fast learner.”

“She has managed to make some moves without my help,” your young teacher tells and Spock takes a seat without another word to watch you.

“No,” he speaks up five games later, reaching out his right hand to stop you from moving your knight, “If you do this, he will beat you in at least three moves.”

“Well, thank you for the advice,” you tell him, pulling your hand back, “But we will have to ask my teacher if you’re allowed to help me.”

You both look towards his son, who is clearly enjoying the fact that he’s allowed to decide.

“He may. Maybe you can win at least once with his help.”

“That does sound like a challenge, Commander Spock, don’t you think?”

Twenty minutes later you excuse yourself for a quick toilet break. They tell you they will wait for your return, but when you step back into the room, they’re focused on playing again. You get something to drink and take a seat on the side, not wanting to leave when it’s finally so peaceful.

[obriengf]

6 or 9 or maybe both together because i feel like they bleed into one another a bit.. with Joel maybe? please and thank you a million times. you're a fantastic writer — I adore everything you post.

send me a prompt for some oblivious love blurbs ✩ CLOSED Notes: first of all - thank you my lovely! second, I've gone with 9!

BLINDSIDE

"I can't believe we've come this far." Your words were spoken in a whispered tone, hardly enough to break the night's calm. Specks of light were disappearing under the blanket of clouds and sprinkling rain that hazed the view before you, two bodies sheltered as they sat beside each other. You could feel pearls of rain dripping from the tips of your hair, adding to the already saturated material of your shirt. You hadn't seen water fall from the sky for seven years - your life sheltered until recently, when you volunteered to join an ambitious friend as he journeyed across the Surface to find a girl. A lost love, that wasn't you. You heard a hum as warmth pressed to your side, the boy next to you leaning against your arm as a form of admiring acknowledgement. As your head dropped to his shoulder, you hoped that he couldn't feel the heavy thump of your heart - a juxtaposition to the serenity you selfishly burrowed within. Joel drew a deep breath, his sigh coated in contentedness, "It's crazy. Things have changed so much, everything we knew about the world is just... so non-existent, you know?" Time had been cruel, and it had isolated so many people as the Earth changed into unrecognisable land. Your families were gone, your homes destroyed, and your lives seemingly extinct since before the monsters had taken over. But at least you had Joel; your closest friend, your forever ally, your everything. And now Boy, a companion that was as loyal as they came.

You both jumped slightly as a beep resonated around your quiet space, Mav1s unknowingly reminding you that her power was draining and that she will soon be leaving you all. Her tone was calming, a feature that you were thankful for within the very brief moment you had spent together as you turned to peer at her screen, "Look, sky jellies! They're harmless and quite lovely."

The dying drops of rain brought back light; bright blues and pinks that glowed, flying jellyfish that created a beautiful sight that you were sure you'd only ever see once in your life. You were in awe as wide eyes took in the dancing colours before you looked at Joel, his lips curled high, just as enthralled as you were and possibly even more mesmerised.

Mav1s beeped again; her time was nearly at the end, but instead of trying to continue conserving her power, she used it for one last hoorah. "Joel, Y/N... would you like to hear a song?"

After you both answered with sympathetic affirmations, a familiar tune emitted from Mav1s' speakers - a tune that you had long forgotten, but had also quickly brought back a warmth of memories that settled so easily in your chest. You softly grinned, body slightly swaying, "I love this song."

When the night has come And the land is dark And the moon is the only light we'll see.

You were humming, nostalgia settling deep within your bones, and Joel could see just how fulfilled you were in that moment of bliss. It was hasty when he stood up; never once second-guessing, hesitance not even a playing card in his deck when he placed himself in front of you with an outstretched hand and lopsided smile that could make you fall to your knees. He cleared his throat, voice confident, "Dance with me."

It was an offer that could not be refused.

You accepted his offer graciously, your palm slipping against his, and he guided you under the stray drops that continued to fall and among the radiant neon gleam of the Jellyfish. They cast purple tones over his cheeks - a lavender haze that brought out the warmth in his eyes and the small golden freckles over his nose that is only recognisable when you're this close. Joel Dawson was many things; awkward, determined, impulsive, and brave, but also incredibly beautiful.

No, I won't be afraid Oh, I won't be afraid Just as long as you stand Stand by me.

You didn't miss the small shake in his hands before they settled slightly above your waist, and you only hoped that he wasn't regretting his choice to bring you out here. It prompted you to be nervous yourself when arms draped over his shoulders and around his neck, but he managed to sink into your embrace with ease. Bodies rocked from side to side and the moment, whether purposeful or not, turned intimate rather quickly.

Baby brown eyes flickered over your face as stray drops of water beaded from his hair, and Joel took a deep breath before his voice filtered out quietly, "I'm really happy you came with me. Even if we did almost die, like, five times already. I don't think I could've done any of this without you."

Your lips lifted, tone just as gentle to prevent breaking the bubble you both found yourselves in, "Joel Dawson. When are you going to learn that I will always be here for you? No matter how stupid your ideas can get sometimes." A chuckle followed your words and the same amusement pulled jovially at his facial features, his nose crinkling and eyes squinting in what would be pure happiness.

"Honestly, sometimes I wonder why you'd risk everything just to follow me 'cross the surface. And don't try to spare my feelings by saying it's just cuz you're my best friend. I get it, I'm not really the sole survivor type." Joel mused, both sets of feet carrying you both in a circular pattern as he released a laugh of his own.

Oh darlin' darlin' stand by me Oh, stand by me

You shook your head, feet stopping, hands sliding down until they rested over the boy's shoulders. With a quirked brow, you looked up at him, "You can't take a hint, can you?"

His head fell to the side in confusion, obliviousness weaving its way into his eyes and the minimal downturn of his mouth. Joel's hands slipped from your body and you instantly missed their warmth as he replied to you, "You know I only function properly when someone’s direct with me."

It was risky. Everything about the past few days with Joel was, but within this bubble, what you were thinking and what you craved was a recipe that when mixed... could potentially end in disaster. Alas, there was something so poetic about the delicacy that surrounded you two right here, right now. So, with tentative movements at first, you stood on the toes of your boots, a palm trailing up the side of his neck and settling on his cheek.

And then you kissed him.

It was short, but sweet. Lips slotting perfectly against the other, and you were so lost in the taste and feel of him that you didn't notice his hands grasping back at your waist. It was slow when you pulled back and your mind needed a second to catch up, but your nose dragged against his and your feet flattened.

"I don't think I can get any more direct than that." You mumbled, eyes finally fluttering open, only to be met with his still pursed lips but a furrow between his brows that you couldn't decipher. You dropped your hands and took a step back, "Joel?"

Oh stand now Stand by me Stand by me...

The abrupt silence was distraction enough from Joel's lack of reaction as you spun to face Mav1s, her power gone, and Boy's head tilting in his own confusion at her lack of liveliness. You needed to step away from your friend as regret bubbled inside of your stomach, provoking the sensation of bile to gather in the pit of your throat before you swallowed it down.

You wandered toward the robot and reached toward the buttons on her front panel, pressing them anxiously as if she'd magically wake back up. It was her, too, lack of response that brought the nausea back and for the first time in seven years, you wished you were held up in your bed back at the bunker. Your thoughts were interrupted as footsteps fell heavy behind you, and Joel gaped as he tried to think of words to say.

"I-I don't get it... is that why you came with me? Because you like me?" His tone was unsure and it shook you to know that the ground couldn't open up and swallow you whole.

"No... yes, not exactly." You sighed when you stood back to full height, turning to face him, however, your eyes remained cast at your shoes. "I needed to know that you'd be okay, Whether you could take care of yourself or not... I couldn't let you leave knowing that I could possibly never see you again. I care about you more than anything else, Joel. I always will."

"I care about you, too." His answer was swift, but carried uncertainty that felt like an arrow to the heart. You were waiting for the dreaded 'but' that would twist the arrow further down until it pushed your heart through your chest. And then it came, and it wasn't so forgiving, "But I came all this way for Aimee, my girlfriend. I love her, you know that..."

And you did, but you thought that after all these years, it would be something that he grew out of. It was selfish to wish that he wasn't in love, that somebody wasn't waiting for him. You didn't mean to grow feelings for the boy, either, but spending so much time with someone in such a limited space does wonders for making a heart grow. Only now, it's sinking, it's fracturing and soon it will be no more.

You willed yourself not to cry. Instead, you breathed sharply, head nodding, and you faced away from him before reaching out to stroke over Boy's head. You cleared your throat, "Well, we better get a good night's sleep then so we can get you to your girl."

"Y/N-" Joel tried, but you cut him off.

"Come on, Boy, let's find somewhere comfy, huh? At least Clyde isn't here to make us keep watch." You made sure to move past Joel without any sort of eye contact, or emotion, or anything as you know that the moment you peer into his sympathetic eyes you will only feel worse about yourself.

As if the guilt would eat you alive.

[s0urw00lf]

Protectors: heart monitor

I have trouble deciding if i want to write in first person or third. SOS send help!!!… jk.

Y/n woke up from the continuous sound of her phone dinging. She groaned and picked up her phone squinting at the brightness, she checked the time, it read 11:42. She sighed, realizing that all of the messages were from Scott, claiming to have had a run in with the alpha. Y/n sat up immediately, now fully awake. She didn’t even respond, she just jumped out of bed and hurriedly put on a jacket and shoes before rushing out of the house, seeing the bright headlights of Derek’s car pulling up in front of her. He must have seen the worried look on her face that she failed to hide, because he got out the car mirroring her expression.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

Y/n looked him in the eye with a serious expression “Scott had a run in with the alpha” She said.

Derek rolled his eyes and got back into his car, waiting for y/n to get in before speeding off to Scott’s.

Upon arriving to his house the couple climbed up the side of his house and into his window with little to no effort. Y/n shook her head at the fact that he left his window not only unlocked but open. The room was completely dark hinting that Scott wasn’t home. Derek sat on a chair in the corner of the room completely out of sight of the light from the moon, he dragged y/n along with him and sat her on his lap.

“What are you trying to do, scare the boy?” She asked teasing looking back at him.

Derek smirked at her “maybe just a little bit” he replied causing y/n to let out a breathy laugh, careful to keep quiet.

Just then they heard the front door open and close and a pair of feet running up towards Scotts room, it was obviously Scott from the nervousness he carried from the recent scare. He rushed into the room quickly closing and locking the window, letting the blinds down looking out of them making sure it was safe to turn a light on before he switched on a lamp and immediately jumped, gasping as he saw y/n and Derek sitting in the corner.

“You seriously need to stop doing that.” He said.

Derek not caring, got right to business “so what happened? Did he talk to you?” He asked.

“Yeah we had a nice conversation about the weather” Scott replied sarcastically.

“Hey drop the sass, were here to help you. Remember?” Y/n retorted sending him a warning look.

“No he didn’t talk!” Scott replied irritably.

“Well did you get anything off of him? An impression?” Derek asked.

“What do you mean” Scott questioned shaking his head.

Y/n stood up “you have to remember, your other senses are heightened” she said, now standing in front of him.

Derek stood behind her “communication doesn’t have to be spoken, what kind of feeling did you get from him?” Derek asked, feeding off of y/ns comment.

Scott stood in thought for a second before replying “anger”.

“Focused on you” y/n asked.

Again Scott thought for a second “no not - not me” he answered. “But it was definitely anger, i could feel it. Especially when he drew the spiral.” Scott confirmed.

Both Y/ns and Derek’s brows knitted “wait the what? What did you just say” Derek asked.

“He drew the spiral on the window of my car, in the condensation you know?” Scott said.

Y/n let out a breath, anxiety filling her at the information. “What? You guys have this look like you know what it means.” He asked.

Y/n shook her head walking towards the bedroom door.

“No, its- its nothing” Derek replied, following close behind his girlfriend.

Scott grabbed Derek’s arm pulling him back a bit “no-no-no wait a second. You can’t do that. You can’t ask me to trust you guys, and then just keep things between yourselves” Scott commanded.

Y/n sighed “it doesn’t mean anything, trust me” she said, undoing the chain lock Scott has on his door.

“You buried your sister under a spiral” Scott commented.

“What does it mean” he asked Derek directly. Y/n rolled her eyes, irritated with the boy because he kept pushing the topic. Derek sighed as y/n opened the door “you don’t wanna know” he answered before follows the woman out.

The drive back home was silent, both thinking of what the alpha could know about or want with the hale pack. The couple got home and went straight to bed, as it was now about 1 am. Derek kissed y/ns forehead whispering a goodnight to her and she did the same to him. Y/n wrapped her arms around Derek’s torso and derek put one arm under her head and the other resting on her waist.

——————

The next day at school y/n walked passed scott, who failed to notice her as he continuously muttered ‘stay away from Allison’. Y/n raised her eyebrows but decided not to even question the boy and instead opted on heading straight to class. She walked int the classroom immediately spotting stiles who wore an expression of anger mixed with sadness. Y/ns face dropped, and she quickly made her way over to the boy, who she basically considered a brother at this point.

She sat down at a dest to the left of him and got her things settled before asking “what’s wrong?”, worry clouding her features.

He opened his mouth to begin to speak when Scott walked in and he immediately closed it. Y/n frowned even more in confusion as Scott came and sat down behind stiles. Y/n turned towards Scott who was focused on stiles.

“still not talking to me?” Scott asked.

Y/n looked to stiles who showed even more anger. “Can you at least tell me if your dads okay?” Scott asked.

At this y/n’s worry peaked even more. “Wai- wait what do you mean is he okay? What the hell happened?” She demanded, looking at both stiles and Scott for an answer.

Stiles took out a piece of paper and a pen and began writing something, when he was finished he passed the paper to y/n and continued to sit in silence.

She looked at the not and it read “yesterday Scott decided to take a day of from werewolf duties by turning off his phone, not answering any of my calls, resulting in my dad getting hit by a car chasing a mountain lion”. Y/n looked up, overcome with guilt for not being there “what! Is he okay?” she asked.

Scott spoke up from behind them “i mean its just a bruise right? Soft tissue damage? Nothing that big…” Scott commented. If looks could kill Scott would be six feet under from the death stare y/n shot his way, along with a slap to the back of the head. Stiles still didn’t answer, and Scott sighed “you know i feel really bad about it right?” Scott asked. “Yeah me too, i should have been there.” Y/n said putting a hand on his shoulder. Stiles grabbed her hand, squeezing it to show her that she wasn’t mad at her, but it didn’t ease the guilt much. “What if i told you that I’m trying to figure this whole thing out, and… that i went to Derek for help.” Scott said. Y/n smirked slightly knowing it’d get stiles to talk. He sighed “if i was talking to you id say your an idiot for trusting him, but obviously I’m not talking to you. No offense y/n” he said. Y/n bitchfaced him but didn’t say anything. The bell rung, signaling for class to start, the small silence allowed stiles to give it a second thought and y/n seen the consideration all over his face. Stiles caved and turned around to Scott “what did he say?”. A smile broke out on both Scott and y/ns faces.

“He wants you to tap into your animal side and get angry?” Stiles asked as the trio walked out of the classroom. Scott replied muttering a ‘yeah’ looking over to y/n who just shrugged. “Well correct me if I’m wrong, but every time you do that you try to kill someone, and that someone is usually me or y/n, but mostly me” stiles said. Y/n laughed “Please, he couldn’t kill me if he tried” she said biting back a even louder laugh, stiles smiled trying not to laugh as well. “I know” Scott said replying to stiles comment, opting to ignore y/n’s. “That’s what he means when he says he doesn’t know if he can teach me. I have to be able to control it.” Scott says. “Well hows he gonna teach you to do that?” stiles asks. Scott shook his head shrugging his shoulders “i don’t know, I don’t think he does either.” He said. “He doesn’t, he’s going out on a limb here. Teaching a bitten werewolf is completely different than being born with it” y/n said. Stiles rolled his head back dramatically “okay. When are you seeing him again?” He asked. “He just told me not to talk about it, just act normal and get through the day.”Scott said. Stiles hit Scott’s shoulder stopping Scott and y/n, “when?” He asked again. “He’s picking me up at the animal clinic after work” Scott said. Stiles nodded “after work. All right, well, that gives us to the end of the school day then” stiles said pointing between himself and y/n. “To do what” Scott asked confused. Y/n smirked patting his shoulder “to try and teach you ourselves” she said before walking off with stiles to formulate a plan. It’s not that y/n didn’t trust Derek tot each scott, but who says she couldn’t do a little on her own.

The trio now sat at lunch, scott sat in from-not of stiles and y/n with a book up trying to hide from Allison. Stiles looked back to see Lydia passing by and Allison now sitting alone with a book of her own in her hand. “I think the books making it more obvious” stiles said, and y/n nodded in agreement “she’s reading anyway” y/n said. Scott lifted his head moving the book slightly to see the paper stiles was weighting before quickly moving it back “did you come up with a plan?” Scott asked the two. “We think so” stiles said, loudly biting into an apple. “Does this mean you don’t hate me now?” Scott asked. Y/n tuned out when she got a message from Derek.

Der ❤️: you know, we haven’t had a date since coming back

Y/n: yeah i noticed

Der ❤️: maybe we should

Y/n: when would we have the time?

Der ❤️: we’ll make time

Y/n: Im not mad at that, what were you thinking?

Der ❤️: ill tell you when the time comes. Now get back to class so you can hurry home, I love you

Y/n: love you too ❤️

Y/n smiled shanking her head at the fact that derek was really just a big cuddly loving person, he just hides it to protect himself. When she tuned back in she saw stiles leave grabbing the book Scott was using to hide, and Scott beginning to panic, getting up and leaving with Allison following close behind. Y/n sat in shock for a couple of seconds, wondering what the hell shed missed. Y/n got up and walked out of the lunchroom, almost running into Allison “oh hey” Allison said. Y/n looked around in confusion, as shed never freely had a conversation with the girl, “uh hi?” She replied in a questioning tone. “Do you know what’s up with Scott? He’s been acting really weird.” She asked. Y/n quickly said the first thing that came to her mind “uh, he’s been busy, and super stressed. Don’t worry hell be okay” y/n lied, trying to make it believable while easing the girls worry that she could feel halfway across the school. Allison smiled and nodded letting out a relieved sigh “thank you” she said before walking off, y/n began to walk away as well but stopped when Allison appeared back in front of her. Y/n raised a brow in question. “Maybe we should hang out sometime, i need more girlfriends other than Lydia” she said with an unsure smile. Y/n internally grimaced, not really fond of befriending an argent, but y/n knew she couldn’t hold Allison accountable for the actions of her family, so she plastered a smile on her face “of course! Maybe sometime next week? My weeks already booked, sorry” y/n said feigning excitement. Allisons smile grew and she nodded “yeah, sure. Could we exchange numbers and figure something out later?” She asked. Y/n agreed and the two exchanged numbers before bidding each other goodbyes and heading on their way.

stiles and y/n lead scott to the lacrosse field so they could execute their plan. Y/n took a seat on the bleachers along side stiles who was unzipping his gym bag. Y/n dug in the bag and pulled out a heart monitor “put this on” she said holding it out to Scott, who stood in front of them. Scott looked at the device questioningly “isn’t this one of the heart rate monitors for the track team?” He asked. “Yeah we borrowed it” stiles confirmed nodding. Scott looked up from the device in his hand to the two sitting on the bleachers “stole it” Scott corrected. Y/n rolled her eyes “temporarily misappropriated” y/n said squinting her eyes at the boy. “Coach uses it to monitor his heart rate with his phone while he jogs” stiles explained. “And you’re gonna wear it for the rest of the day” y/n said, smiling. Scott looked to stiles “isn’t that coaches phone?” He asked. “That i stole” stiles said, nodding his head, a look of reminiscing crossed his face. “Why?” Scott asked. “Your heartbeat raises when you turn, for example when your playing lacrosse, when your with Allison, whenever you get angry. So, maybe controlling your heart rate could be the first step to consoling the shift overall. I had to do this to control mine.” y/n explained to which stiles nodded. “Like the Incredible Hulk” Scott says smiling. Y/n frowned, confused. “Kind of like the Incredible Hulk, yeah” stiles somewhat agrees. “No I’m like the incredible hul-“ “would you shut up and put the strap on?” Stiles interrupted, irritated. “What the hell is a Incredible Hulk?” Y/n asks herself.

Scott puts the monitor on, and stiles grabs the duct tape and taped Scott’s hands behind his back. “This isn’t exactly how i wanted to spend my free period” scott comments sarcastically. “Too bad, you wanted help so, that’s what were doing.” Y/n shouts from across the field. “Exactly. Okay, you ready?” Stiles asks scott as he returns the tape to his bag. “No” scott replies. “Alright, remember. Don’t get angry.” Stiles says as he walks away from scott, and towards y/n. Stiles began using Scott as a human goalie, throwing lacrosse balls at him. Scott groans, leaning forward at the impact “okay that one kinda hurt” he said. Stiles picks up another ball “quiet. Remember your supposed to be thinking about your heart rate, alright?” Stiles says. “Stay calm” y/n reminds him. Scott begins chanting ‘stay calm’ as more balls come flying at him. Y/n suddenly feels prying eyes, she looks around the field, but doesn’t see anyone, until she sees Jackson standing behind the bleachers with an amused smile on his face. “Dickhead” y/n mutters rolling her eyes. One ball hits Scott particularly hard making him fall to his knees in pain “ah son of a bitch!” He groans. “You know what i think my aims actually improving” stiles comments smiling. “I wonder why” Scott mutters, sarcasm laced in his tone. Stiles continued throwing balls, as y/n watched Scott’s heart rate, that had quickly started elevating.

Scott dropped back to the ground groaning, as he tried to fight off the shift, y/n and stiles ran over to him, y/n so she could sheild Scott from Jackson’s view in case Scott shifted. Y/n looked at the phone to see Scott’s heart rate going down, she lat out a relived sigh. “Scott? You started to change” Stiles called reaching to pat scotts shoulder “from anger, but it was more than that. Like the angrier i got the stronger i felt.” Scott said. “But you pulled back, that’s all that matters.” Y/n said. “So it is anger then, Derek’s right” stiles comments. Y/n raised her brows, never thought she’d hear those words from stiles. “I can’t be around Allison” Scott breathes. “Just because she makes you happy?” Stiles asks. “Because she makes me weak” Scott says. Y/n just stood there astonished, she couldn’t believe these idiots thought Allison made him weak when its oh so obvious she was his anchor. But she let it be deciding that they should figure it out on their own.

y/n walked off the field, deciding she was leaving early as she was an adult and didn’t want to spend the rest of the day at school. She took out her phone deciding to call Derek because she didn’t have a ride home.

“Hello” Derek answered

“Hey der, can you pick me up?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in school?” He asked

“Yes i am but I’m a grown adult and I’ve decide to leave, come get me” y/n demanded

Derek let out a laugh “Okay ill pick you up, but I’m on my way to see peter, now your coming with”

Y/n let out a dramatically loud groan in annoyance “fine”

“Alright, be there in 5” Derek said before hanging up.

Y/n absolutely loathed peter hale. Obviously she hated seeing him all unresponsive and paralyzed, but she still couldn’t stand him. The girl stood in thought until Derek pulled up in front of her, rolling his window down flashing that award winning smiles that made her legs feel like noodles. She got in the car, and Derek leaned over pressing a kiss to her lips to which she immediately returned, He eventually pulled away and smiled as he pulled off.

—————

The couple arrived at the room that peter was settled in. Y/n stopped at the door, feeling sadness creep over ear as she saw the man that was once young and lively, stuck in a wheelchair staring at a window covered by curtains. Derek sat on the hospital bed, turning Peter to face him, Derek’s face remained stoic as he began to speak “i need your help” he said, receiving nothing but a blank stare. “If you can hear me, i need you to give me a sign. Blink, raise a finger. Anything. Just, just something to point me in the right direction, okay?” Derek asked. Y/ns heart broke even more for him if possible. The man had been through so much bad and hurt, and he was still trying to protect the world. “Someone killed Laura. Your niece, Laura?” Derek said as if asking if he remembered. “Whoever he is he’s an alpha now. But he’s one without a pack, which means he’s not as strong. I can take him” Derek said. Y/n stood up from leaning on the door “der-“ “but i have to find him first” Derek said interrupting y/n. “Look if you know something just give me a sign. Is it one of us? Someone else make it out of the fire?” Derek asked “just give me anything. Blink, raise a finger anything” Derek pleaded. Peters silence was eating away at Derek “say something!” He demanded grabbing peters shoulders. Peters nurse came up behind “let him go” she commanded. Y/n had to do a double take at the woman’s audacity. “You think after six years of this, yelling at him is gonna get a response?” She asked. “You got a better method?” Y/n asked. “Patience, he’ll respond if you give him the time” the nurse replied. “We don’t have any more time” Derek said walking out of the room. Y/n looked at the nurse suspiciously, something felt off about her and y/n didn’t like it. She followed Derek out of the room, jogging a bit to catch up with him.

When they walked up to his car y/n spotted something on the windshield “Derek?” She said. He looked at her to see her pointing at the paper under his windshield wipers. He grabbed it and opened it to read it. He glanced over it before looking around to see anyone who could have put it there. “What does it say?” The h/c haired girl asked. Derek shook his head before getting in his car, waiting for y/n to do the same before speeding off. Derek dropped y/n off at home and told her not to worry, before quickly driving off, y/n walked into the house dropping her things carelessly out of aggravation, she didnt want Derek to feel like he had to do things alone and she also hated when he kept things from her. Y/n decided she’d talk it over with him whenever he returned. She didn’t know when that’d be so she opted to eat something and then go to bed.

@bellabadacadabra

[ahollowgrave]

There was a post asking RPers with moon-worshipping characters how they handle the moon's revelation, especially with Endwalker. But! I am too shy to reblog that with my actual answers so instead I will post this two page rambling under a cut. (:

Okay, so I look at it through two lenses: 1) How much does your average citizen know about the big wide star and everything our beloved Warrior of Light gets up to in saving it all the time?

There are things in the real world I don’t know and things I am shocked to find out other people don’t know!

The history of the Star is vast and dense and no one can possibly know every crumb of it. 

2) Faith requires a sort of peace in knowing you don’t and won’t know certain things. If you have all the answers to all your questions, you don’t need faith.

The asking of questions is vital, here. If you are not curious about the world around you how can you possibly come to love it and those it shelters? If you believe for a second that you have all the answers to all the questions then your curiosity dies. 

That said with Odette and her convent it really boils down to:  They don’t know!

Odette is young, she may not have been alive during Dalamud’s fall and Bahamut’s defeat. I’m not really sure because time bubbles and I’m very vague with her age because time is my mortal enemy. When the moon started its fall the convent probably took it to mean: gods mad. Who wouldn’t? Even the faithless might pray under such a thing, no?  But the convent is secluded and news is slow to reach them and what does reach them is often embellished or outdated or just untrue. They must pick through the stories they are told and find the truth of the matter - which is subjective, as well! What is true for one might not be true for another. 

It is a bit of a chore, is what I am trying to say, and unreliable narrators are aplenty.

Currently, the Convent believes that earlier scripture naming Dalamud as Menphina’s Loyal Hound were written by Spoken who were trying to make sense of the world around them. They got it wrong, but no doubt there are things we get wrong even now with all our knowledge. 

The point of their faith is not to get things 100% right all the time but rather to meet the star and her denizens with hearts full of love. They don’t allow dogs at the convent, however.

The news out of EW is another matter since it still feels very fresh and new. Odette has stepped into the role of Nun Errant and she does relay information back to her Convent, either in person or via letter. I don’t know if the news of the WoL fighting the 12 made papers and so far it seems that most of the Loporrits that stayed star-side are in Old Sharlayan to learn! A big ship did go beyond the moon but that was… beyond the moon! So, like the nuns, I don’t know! They are but Spoken creatures, they question, yes, but it is difficult for them to see the grand picture being as small as they are.  It should be noted that Odette is not the warrior of light. I try very hard for her to not know everything the warrior of light gets up to in the MSQ because she, realistically, would not know. She’s just some nun! What I CAN say is that if Odette knew everything that I, the player, know she would still worship the Moon and Menphina. Imprisoning Zodiark before more needless death, setting the Loporrits to building a fallback and escape plan, reincarnating her closest and most trusted allies to serve as deities and make sure he cannot be freed? That’s love, baby. Of course, Menphina, the deity of Love, would be the keeper of the moon and its secrets! Also, almost none of this answered the secondary questions but… This is already very long but I could go on about the dark side of the moon, what it means to love, and all that but I’ll end it with this: It is okay for your characters to be wrong and make mistakes, IC! Let them have harmlessly bad and factually untrue opinions. 

BONUS: I recall a question about how a manmade moon might effect a god or goddess who is tied to it! But -- prayer and belief is were deities get their powers.

Well, the 12 as we know them are kind of ‘manmade’ themselves. Yes, Venat sort of reincarnated her most trusted allies, however… It was shown that prayers have the power to change them! We know that this altered Halone in some ways and I believe that it altered Menphina the same. Basically: Enough of her worshippers thought Dalamud was her ‘loyal hound’ and so she got a loyal hound. So, why should the moon(s) be any different?

[tryingtodotheright-thing]

Hello, Sunset - 10

AN: None of this is proofread, all mistakes are mine. I'm so excited to see what you all think about this chapter! It's the first full chapter in Cheol's POV. PAIRING: Seungcheol x fem!reader GENRE: exes to lovers, idol verse, angst WORD COUNT: 4,289 WARNINGS: reader has anxiety and depression, swearing, mentions of alcohol Text in blue is spoken/written in Korean. PREVIOUS / NEXT

It didn’t feel like home. It’s something he struggled with even though it had been a few years since his parents had moved houses. He supposed if the place you went to reminisce wasn’t your childhood home, where your dreams and youth still lingered in the air, it didn’t have the same effect of homecoming. Seungcheol was resting in the guest room he would stay in whenever he visited. The room was dark, cold and bare, just like the feeling in his gut. He hadn’t been back, back in this room since he’d visited his parents during his break last year in June. It was too soon and too raw to come back on his next break and so he had instead had shut himself up in the flat he shared with his brother. Well, that was after he had first turned up in Hannam-dong out of habit, before realising that she wasn’t there anymore. The code still worked since there was still time left on the lease but when he’d walked in, it was as if she’d never existed. All traces of her, from her belongings to the scent of her perfume that had been seeped into the flat, were all gone.

She’d taken his home with her, when she took all her belongings. It was cheesy to say but she had become his home. What do you do when your home is a person, not a place? What do you do when you can’t seek peace and comfort in a person who has become the axis of your world? What do you do when a moment of insecurity, a moment of fear, a moment of thoughtlessness ruined it all? What do you do when you become homeless? Because now they didn’t belong to each other anymore, as much as a person could belong to another, and he didn’t have a home. 

Laying in the darkness, with only the moon and the stars for company, Seungcheol yearned to turn back time. He wiped away the stray tear that dripped from the corner of his eyes and down the side of his face. She looked happier without him. It was the first thing he had noticed as soon as he saw the fancams. His habit of searching up on Naver was one enlistment hadn’t broken. In fact, he had gotten better with it, especially over the past few months when his only source of news of her was from the internet. His soul was aching to be with her. The dates had been ingrained in his mind from the moment her tour dates had been announced. It was almost poetic when his discharge date was confirmed, he’d be free to see her but he no longer had the privilege. His tongue had been burning to ask questions when he’d met his bandmates, the ones who were not currently under the care of the Republic of Korea. He wanted to quiz them on everything. Was she eating well? Did she sleep fine? Does someone remind her to take a break? He wanted to know the answers and to know everything he’d missed as if they hadn’t parted ways, as if he hadn’t been so brutal. Seungcheol knew he could be selfish, but he didn’t realise how easily it came to him till he sent that text. The nightmares and the sleepless nights that followed wouldn’t be enough penance for the pain he caused, he knew that. Yet, he still yearned. 

So, Seuncheol had looked her up on Naver hoping to see videos of her performing and love her through the screen, because he never did stop loving her. His eyes feasted on her, adoring every strand of hair, memorising each smile and soaking in her voice. That’s how he brought himself a semblance of feeling at home. As he admired yet another beautiful shot of her on the stage, and they were all beautiful because they were of her, he wondered if things were different, could he have been in the same vast arena, watching her proudly and feel full at heart. He’d never been fortunate enough to watch her shine in person - the others had at least had the opportunity during MAMA Awards but he’d arrived late and missed that. He’d promised that he would come and watch her when she performed in Seoul and she’d promised to sing a love song just for him. He wondered if he would ever get the chance to do that. 

He’d grilled Shua on whether he would be seeing her. He knew they were going to the concert, Seungkwan had already blabbed. He wanted to know if they would meet privately. Even if the door was closed in his face, Seunghceol would have gone with them. Shua had been reluctant to answer and had said nothing had been confirmed as of yet. Seeing the videos of her acknowledging Shua and the others, it had made him green with envy. He’d wanted that for them, to be able to openly acknowledge their love and had hoped that freedom would come one day. To see that it could come so easily now, but there was nothing to acknowledge between them anymore. He was nothing more than a stranger. She’d always said that she’d rather forgive and forget when it came to relationships because she didn’t want to hold on to the anger. He was sure he was now a memory she wished to forget. Maybe she had already erased the moments he’d hoped to look back at together for a lifetime. Would he be lost without a home forever?

Seungcheol had lost the last of his control and had sent a pleading message to his friend. He’d begged him to pass his message on to her. He needed to see her with his own eyes, even if he had no right to ask for this anymore. If they couldn’t fix things, and rightly so because he’d been the one to destroy their haven, he needed to at least ease some of his guilt by apologising. She was too kind, too caring to say no to that. He knew she’d allow him to do that at least, even if it wasn’t the best thing. He shouldn’t have taken advantage like that but Seungcheol had already come to accept that he was selfish, remember. This was his purgatory; waiting for a response from Shua felt like walking towards a mirage of water in the desert. He knew it was pointless, but he still remained hopeful. Seungcheol still yearned. Even as the minutes passed by and he still hadn’t had a response, he held his breath in his hands and waited. 

Short breaths, loud gasps and sweaty palms, they were all back. His hand reached for his phone again. He stared at his phone lockscreen, the digital clock ticking past midnight whilst the brown innocent eyes of her looked back at him in affection. He’d taken it during a Sunday morning, their morning routine that had become second nature to them had been in motion. She was wearing his shirt, hair in a messy bun, and lounging on the bed and looking into his heart. He wished he could travel back to that morning. She would have been shy right after the picture was taken, pushing his shoulder in protest before allowing him to pull her into his chest. They would have stayed cuddled, cocooned in their little world as she read her book and he played a game on his phone. Seungcheol traced her eyes on the screen as he tried to return his breathing to normal. He swallowed his sobs and closed his eyes when the image of her became too  blurry because of his tears. He wished she could hold him right now. That she could say that it’s okay, that he’s still her love, her honey and that she’ll hold him and breathe for him till he feels better. He yearned for her.  

The vibration of his phone startled Seungcheol. 

She said yes. Meet us at the dorms and we’ll go together. 

Seungcheol’s breaths came in a stutter, the choking slowly easing as if the imaginary hands that so tightly squeezed his windpipe decided to show him mercy. Just like she had.  Convincing himself that if he slept now he would be closer to meeting her, Seungcheol went to bed listening to her sing. The last words he heard her singing were ‘I love you’ as he fell into . Seungcheol yearned for tomorrow.

The dawn brought hope to Seugcheol. He had found himself in a car back to Seoul not long after a quick breakfast with his parents. The anticipation was almost too much during that journey and he was sure that if anyone else had been with him, they would have lost their patience at his endless shaking of his legs, the rustling noise of his jeans were sure to grate on anyone’s nerves. His thoughts had been racing, running through different scenarios of how the conversation could go. His mind was a stage and the same scene was being performed again and again. The Seungcheol in his mind would say a soft ‘hi’ and then the fictional her would nod. Whenever she was overwhelmed, she tended to go quiet. It was one of the first things he’d noticed about her. He’d say the words he had owed her, things that had been left unspoken for too long till they grew tenfold and ugly, creating the demons in his head. The Seungcheol in his head would beg for another chance, that their story isn’t quite over and could she give him just one more chance. The scene would always end here. He didn’t have the confidence to predict any answers. If he had no expectations, then there won’t be any disappointments, he told himself foolishly.

Seungcheol felt lighter as soon as he’d arrived at Shua’s place; he was one step closer to seeing her again. It was as if the promise of this meeting had relieved the load that he had been shouldering for the past nine months. Whatever happened - and he knew what he wanted the outcome to be but whatever happened, at least, he could say that he had tried to fight for their love. The biggest regret in all of this was that he hadn’t truly tried. He’d let her take more than the fair share in keeping their relationship together. It wasn’t to say that he didn’t care but she was too understanding. She took joy in his smallest efforts that he began to think the minimal effort was enough. When it became too much, when she asked him to put the same work into their relationship as she did, it wasn’t convenient anymore. Seungcheol didn’t know how to balance all of it and he gave up at the hurdles instead of even trying to jump and pass. He’d taught himself to believe in ultimatums, in all or nothing. He knew better now. He hoped he could at least try to show that he was ready, that he was better prepared to juggle whatever challenges that came their way and that it was his turn to take the load in balancing things. He still wanted to live out the daydreams and promises of the future they’d spoken about. If he could wish them into existence, he would. He could only wish that she’d listen and believe him. 

Seungcheol made a pit stop at his apartment before heading to the dorms. He’d collected the jewellery box that had been collecting dust since it had been put away one distressing night. It wasn’t till he’d received the package from his manager that he’d realised what he had done, that it was truly finished. The sight had been harrowing. A piece of metal had gotten his 31-year old self sobbing inconsolably. The ring that had been missing from his hand, now glowed next to the one that represented his bond with his members. The box burned a hole in his pocket as he ached to return the ring to its owner. It belonged with her, and he longed to put it back on as he had the first time when they’d reached their first 100 day anniversary. He longed to give her another ring, one with a round cut diamond that sparkled like his eyes did when they looked at her. One he’d already bought and rested in the same jewellery box in his pocket.

With renewed determination, Seungcheol arrived at the apartment he’d previously shared with Shua and Myeong Ho. Though he’d stayed the night in his room during busy schedules even after he’d moved in with his brother, it felt strange to be here. Once he’d started dating her, he returned less frequently, willing to travel the extra distance to stay at her place so they’d at least have some time together, even if that meant an earlier wake up call. The apartment didn’t look much different from his last visit though he noticed some new additions like the trinkets the two residents had picked up from their recent travels. 

“Coups, is that you?” Shua’s called out from his room. 

“Yes, it’s me.”

“I’m just getting ready. I’ll be out soon. Seungkwan and Vernon should be arriving soon.”

Acknowledging his friend’s update, Seungcheol walked over to the sofas to take a seat and wait comfortably. He spent the time scrolling through his phone, watching more videos of last night’s concert. In about 3 hours, they’d be in the same building. He could drink her in with his own two eyes soon, finally feeding his craving for her.

“Have you eaten yet?” His friend asked as he walked into the room. 

“No, I left just after breakfast and just got here.”

“The kids said they’re hungry so let’s grab some food before we go, okay? We still have lots of time.”

“Mmmh,” Seungcheol agreed, “let’s do that.”

Joshua puttered around the kitchen, making himself and Seungcheol some coffee. 

“Shua, what did… What did you tell Y/N? And, how, I mean, what did she say?”

His friend didn’t respond immediately. He finished making the hot beverages and brought it to where he was sitting. He put one mug on top of the coaster in front of him and took a sip from the one he still held, as he sat down in the armchair to Seungcheol’s right. 

“I told her that you wanted to talk, that you wanted a chance. I didn’t ask her about the concert, I showed her your messages and she said yes to you coming tonight.”

Shua took another sip of his coffee.

“She didn’t say anything else and I didn’t push her.”

Seungcheol exhaled loudly, not realising he’d held his breath as he waited to hear from his friend on how you’d reacted. He picked up the mug in front of him, the warmth grounding him as he warmed his clammy hands against them as he cupped the sides instead of the handle. He blew at the liquid to cool it down before he took a big gulp. It still scolded his tongue and Seungcheol put the mug back down.

“Do you think she’ll take me back?”

It was as if they were taking turns and pretending to drink the coffee that was too hot for a normal person, just so they could take a pause and consider the words they’ll say to each other. It was almost comical and Seungcheol would have laughed if this wasn't his own reality. Why were they acting like strangers and being so polite instead of friends who’d known each other for more than ten years? 

Joshua put down his mug, and nudged forward in his seat to look at Seungcheol.

“Why should she?”

“What? I can’t -”

“You need to convince her, not me. Yes, there were outside factors but you can’t put the blame on PLEDIS and HYBE.”

Seungcheol fell silent at this. He knew that, he knew he couldn’t hide behind the excuses. 

“Do you know what she did say? She said she didn’t really know you. She doubted if she’d read into the relationship being more than what it was.”

He was heartbroken. How could she think that? No one knew him as best as she did.

Seeing his friend upset thawed his anger, Shua quickly added that she’d said this six months ago when he’d finally gotten to speak to her after she’d avoided him for months. He told Seungcheol all about the meeting you’d had with HYBE and PLEDIS representatives, everything that had come to light in that meeting. Seungcheol felt worse and worse. He couldn’t even feel angry at others when the blame lay with him. How had he not noticed any of this? 

“Look. You’re both my friends. I love you both and no one would be happier than me if you get back together. Just make sure you both communicate better. Y/N’s a people pleaser. She won’t say when she’s struggling. She should have told you about these things when they happened. And you, you don’t have to worry about things on your own. I won’t say more on this than that you both have me if you need anything, okay?”

As if they’d been hovering till this conversation had ended, the doorbell rang when Shua finished speaking. 

“Go and freshen up and then we’ll head out,” Shua said as he walked towards the door to open it for his friends. Seungcheol gathered the mugs and placed them in the sink before obeying his friend’s instruction to clean up. 

Vernon and Seungkwan knew better than to speak the obvious. Joshua hadn’t said more than that their oldest member would be joining them for the day two concert and there clearly had been more things happening in the background for this to happen. Seungkwan had been warned to read the room and not run away with his mouth like he had done two days ago. He’d learnt his lesson after experiencing the stifling awkwardness that had followed his slip up. The younger same-age friends had agreed they would just pretend all was normal. So, they spoke about the latest news from Dino, who was currently recovering from a cold. They spoke about the clips they had seen from yesterday’s concerts and the 98 line friends who had messaged them in envy. They spoke about the fellow Korean musicians Y/N had informed them would be attending the concert tonight.

In between swallowing the soup and rice combo, Seungkwan commented, “Y/N noona got Baek Yerin-nim to perform with her today. Apparently, she wasn’t going to have anyone today because Taeyang subaenim said he was busy but since they were close, Baek Yerin-nim offered.”

“Hmm. Didn’t they do a song together?”

“No, Y/N noona wrote some songs for Baek Yerin’s last album and they become friends then.”

“How is it that you know everyone and everything?” 

It wasn’t even a question at this point from Vernon. It was more like an observation. Seungkwan gave a proud smile in response to Vernon as Joshua chuckled at the duo. Seungcheol was too lost in his thoughts to join in, stirring his spoon in the half empty bowl instead of finishing his meal. He wasn’t paying attention to the scraping noise his spoon would make once in a while, a sound that would make those who shared his table wince each time. He probably couldn’t have answered correctly if someone had asked what soup he ate or what banchan had been served alongside. Only his body was in the restaurant, his mind and soul was already at the venue.

Once everyone else had finished their meal and the bill had been paid, they were on their way to the KSPO Dome. They’d arrived earlier than the previous today and so ran into fellow concert-goers as they found their seats. Whilst some fans had recognised Joshua, Vernon and Seungkwan, no one had expected Seungcheol would be there and so hadn’t immediately caught on to who the fourth person was. While they had claimed their seats and gotten comfortable, the mobile phones and cameras had been capturing every moment and the pictures were circulating in real time. Soon, some dedicated fans had identified the mysterious addition as SEVENTEEN’s S.Coups and the internet was losing its mind. What was S.Coups doing here? Didn’t he use to date Y/N? Does this mean they’re back together? Before the first song of the night could be performed, the pair were trending on the hot searches. 

As soon as Y/N appeared on stage, Seungcheol’s nerves disappeared. His heart settled, finally finding its rhythm after so long, restored to its full self now that its missing piece was so close. He couldn’t hold back the emotions or watch his reaction conscious of the videos that would be taken by the spectators. Even as Joshua nudged him with his pointy elbow into his side, Seungcheol couldn’t, wouldn’t take his eyes off Y/N. His hunger had been ignited and he was greedy for more. Even as his eyes grew moist and his vision blurred, he continued to watch and admire the woman he loved. He’d forgotten how much he loved her. He’d forgotten how much she set him ablaze with her presence. He’d forgotten how amazing and awe-inspiring she was. As he watched and watched, she reminded him. Look at me. Look at me bewitching an arena of people with my voice. Look at me so tall, proud and confident in my own skin. Look at the me you forgot about. 

She was talking to him. He heard her loud and clear in the songs she sang to thousands. The personal message hidden in the lyrics, telling him he was late. The extra spring in her step as she moved through the dance steps. When she sang her duet with Baek Yerin, they sang an English song. One he didn’t recognise but Joshua whispered in his ears that it was Amy Winehouse. He’d worked on his English language skills over the years but especially the past few, working particularly on his comprehension. It was as if it was for this moment as she sang about how her tears dry on their own. The irony didn’t escape him as it was his tears that were rolling as her blinding smile glowed on the LED screens. The message was clear. He walked away and she’d grown from it. 

Seungcheol felt as if he was walking to his execution. He’d been yearning, longing and waiting for this very moment, yet now, he didn’t want to go ahead. The corridor seemed uninviting and scary. Recognising his friend’s hesitation, Joshua had suggested that they meet with Y/N first so they would have privacy for their conversation. They’d said goodbyes quickly, mindful that she had a morning flight that would take her far away from them again. Suddenly, it was now his turn. She was behind the door he stood outside of, one he wished he could see through. Was she as nervous, as terrified as he was? Whatever will be spoken, whatever they do will be final. He couldn’t rewrite the scene in his head anymore. It was time for him to pull his courage and put himself up for judgement. 

Of course, the door would creak when he pushed it open. He didn’t see her instantly when he opened the door. It was only after taking a step into the dressing room that he saw her. In the corner behind the door, she sat in a chair, her hands clasped and twisting nervously, eyes looking down at the floor. She didn’t look up when the door closed loudly though she couldn’t stop herself jumping at the noise. This woman wasn’t the one on stage ten minutes ago. She wasn’t tall, proud and confident in her own skin. She looked so small and fragile. Seungcheol felt disgusted. What had he done? Seungcheol was devastated. Why was she so scared of him? Seungcheol had lost. How could he ask for a second chance after this?

“I, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything. I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry for,” he swallowed his sobs because he didn’t deserve to cry, didn’t deserve her sympathy, “I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable. I won’t, I won’t ask to meet you again.”

He nearly ran out of the room before remembering the jewellery box that weighed his heart down.

“This is yours. It was always yours. If you don’t want it, you can get rid of it. It belongs to you, not me.”

He placed the box roughly in her line of sight before leaving. He walked briskly to the end of the corridor before stopping when the pain overtook. The pain that ran down his leg, that throbbed around his knee was nothing. It was nothing to the pain his heart cried out to. As he staggered and as his leg gave up, Seungcheol allowed himself to cry. The tears streamed till he couldn’t see or hear his wailing. As he cried for the lost future, a door opened abruptly and someone began running. Seungcheol should go. He knew he shouldn’t be crying here. But he couldn’t stop. The footsteps got closer and closer and then, he was home. He was home. He was home in her arms. She held him tightly and he felt alive, so warm and full. She brushed his tears away even as new ones rolled down his cheeks. She caressed his puffy cheeks and gazed at him with love.

“You idiot! You are a fool, Choi Seungcheol.” Then, she kissed him. 

“I love you too.” He was finally home.

[moontheoretist]

“The suit, and I, are one.” Tony’s announcement quieted all murmuring. “There is no Tony Stark without the Iron Man technology. There is no Iron Man without Tony Stark. ‘Weapon—weapon.’ The Senator has spent the past few hours, no, the past few days leading up to this hearing attempting to paint me as some kind of brand new, high-tech gun to be pointed at who and whatever the United States sees fit. But those three photos I’ve shown you are merely three out of many missions I’ve undergone to save lives. Tell me: could that be reduced to simply a weapon? I have spoken before of service—of building a world we can all live in without fear. Justin Hammer made a pretty speech about threats, but he offered no solutions. Instead, he promised more of the same. He spoke of it as a given—as a state of being that we cannot change. I refute that with everything in me. We once believed that flight was only the providence of birds and other such creatures. But now, we fly. We once believed the sky was the limit. But now we walk on the moon and send scouts out among the stars. Don’t we? Don’t we?” When he received several murmurs of agreement, he continued. “What are we doing? Have the actions of our government, the military-industrial complex that so many people in this chamber worship like a golden calf, made any of us safer? Do you really and truly feel safer? I’ve sworn off my gambling ways for my daughter’s sake, but I’ll make the bet that you don’t. Justin Hammer spoke of Howard Stark being the father of said establishment as if that is a source of pride and not one of shame. Selling death to the highest bidder is not a thing to be proud of—I should know. Some days, many days, I worry that my hands will be covered in blood until the day I die and no amount of good can change that. But then I realized it wasn’t about me at all. I’m human—I forget; I backslide. Rather, it’s about the people I serve. In just those three trips alone over 200 lives have been saved. Lives that would not be with us if Iron Man did not get involved. And it wasn’t all me. It was with the help of so many countries working together; with the help of the people themselves on the ground—who saw the suffering of their neighbors and stepped up. They’re even braver than I am because they didn’t have the protection of a suit to help them, but stepped up they did. It was an honor to see. I now have more people to call friend—people on the other side of the world who I would not have met otherwise. So I will continue to work with the representatives of the signatories of the UN Charter. On the larger scale. But on the smaller one, at the community level, I ask that you all think. Justin Hammer can make tasteless jokes about Canada all he wants, but for the rest of us, why don’t we put aside the urge to dehumanize each other and think of ways we can be safe enough to leave our doors unlocked? To have places where our children can play and come home after dark? Places where we can hang out—accessible to all. Why can’t we have that? Why is that laughable? Those are the things that I hope to represent. Iron Man is neither a shield nor a sword—it is me. It is not a toy; it is not some distraction made by a spoiled rich man—yeah, I read the papers. Thanks for that. If those pundits, and Senator Stern, and anyone like them are so narrow-minded as to see everything as a nail to be brutalized, I respectfully ask that they stop getting in the way of progress and move aside. Those who would like to see that all of us are fed, clothed, housed, educated, and kept safe; who recognize that we are all in this game together…well, I hope we can come up with a solution going forward. That’s why I restarted the Expo to begin with! And I’ve already received so many amazing entries from around the globe that I cannot wait to share with you all. I don’t have all the answers and I certainly don’t claim to—but with that as my goal, I hope we can move from the shame to fulfillment and glory.”

Have Time — Will Travel by flower-of-el (NibelungVelocity)

[yzafre]

we're flying above the valley below | Ch 15

AO3

First | Previous

It went like this:

After losing the Replica in Twilight Town, after wrangling a bunch of ungrateful kids, after failing to wrest the old man from the Organization’s hands –

after reeling from DiZ’s voice coming from Ansem’s mouth, and ha!  Didn’t that just figure?  Always, always, children suffering at his careless hands –

it took ages for Axel to find the trail again.

It took ages, but he did it.  He found Her again, and thus began the slow hunt, stalking Her through worlds, one after the other.  Every time he managed to catch up, She startled, immediately ripping open a corridor, vanishing once more.

Every time he managed to catch up, She looked a little worse for the wear.

How did he keep ending up in these situations?  Retreading his steps over and over again, the same role, the same job, on everlasting repeat. 

Would he ever learn?

He stepped through the latest pathway, every sense reaching out in trained wariness, alert for danger.  Deep, briny air filled his lungs.  Wooden floorboards creaked beneath his feet, the ground rocking slowly.  Dark skies above, dimly lit by a well-hidden moon.

A crowd pressed to the edge of the area, eyes boring into him, and into the tableau across the deck from him.

A hulking figure had grasp of Her, tentacles falling from his scaly face like a beard.  Slowly, the man’s gaze turned away from where he had Her face held in a tight grip, her eyes staring empty empty empty ahead.

“Another invader on my ship,” the man snarled, “Does my name mean nothing anymore?”

Yeesh.  That’s an ego.

Axel tipped his head, gaze steady on the altercation at hand, “Sorry for the intrusion.  I’ve been tracking your little stowaway there.  Mind handing Her over?”

“Hmmm… a bounty hunter.”

Not an answer.  Axel forced himself to remain in a posture of nonchalance.

“Of sorts; when needed.”

“A mercenary,” the man tried, thoughtfully, as if Axel hadn’t spoken.

“Right now, what I am is in a hurry,” Axel said, hands twitching at his sides, “Why don’t you hand Her over, and we’ll get out of your way.”

“You think you can make demands of me?”

In his anger, the man’s fists clenched around where he still had a grip on Her.  She made a small, choked sound, and Axel’s eyes were drawn in like gravity – just for a second, just for a flicker before he regained composure, but it was enough.

The man smirked, a slow, smug expression crossing his face, as his grip shifted from Her jaw to her neck.

“Ah.  You need the creature alive.  Do you think you can reach me, before I snap her neck?”

Axel tried to look confident – stars, it was once so easy to bluff his way through situations like this – but he couldn’t wrest his eyes away from where those fingers gripped tight around Her skinny throat.

He let his weapons fade back into the ether.

The man smirked.

“Now then.  You want the creature – I could make use of a mercenary.  Why don’t we make a deal?”

“I’m listening.”

“There’s something I need you to retrieve for me.  Bring it to me, and I’ll give you your prize.”

Getting the box wasn’t that difficult.  Old Tentacle-Head was even kind enough to give him its location, or thereabouts, and everyone was so focused on the out-break of combat on the ships that someone simply warping in wasn’t even on their radar.

Getting the box back to the man, on the other hand…

Axel’s original thought was to open a corridor straight back to him, but when he arrived on Tentacle-Head’s ship he was missing, lost in the swarm of bodies swamping the deck, tearing into each other with sword and steel.  That left Axel to heft the unwieldy box around as he searched on foot – and, unfortunately, it seemed his delivery was something of a hot commodity.

He’d already fought off five opportunistic, low-level thugs, one truly desperate man, and an eccentric nutjob he had a feeling was going to come back and be a problem again later, all with no luck finding his temporary employer-slash-black-mailer.

When another body stepped in his way, he couldn’t help but sigh – and then heavier as he realized he knew this one.

“Luxord.”

“Axel.  So, this is what you’re these days.  I have to say, delivery work seems like a step down.”

“Not that different.”

“Fair enough.  Well, I – ah.  We have guests.”

A shadow passed over them, the flutter of wings close behind as a figure landed on the railing, pinwheeling briefly before regaining his balance.

Wait… he knew that guy, too.  Well, wasn’t this just a party?

“Axel!  What are you – “ Sora cut off, distracted, “Luxord!  Back with your friends?  Don’t think I’m too busy to kick your ass again!”

“Sora,” Luxord acknowledged, “I’m afraid I’m not here to play, this time.  I’m just here for the box.“

“Box, what box?” Sora’s eyes traveled over to Axel, “Wait… is that the box Jack is looking for?”

“Who’s Jack?” Axel asked.

“That would be me.”

Axel turned, finding the eccentric nutjob back to harrass him again, just as he’d predicted.

“And I’ll be taking that box, if you please.”

Axel clicked his tongue, “Sorry, but I’ve already got a buyer.  You know how it is.”

Sora tilted his head, eyes flicking around, “What do you mean?”

“I’m supposed to give it to – “

“Me.”

And just like that, his employer joined the fray.

“Davy Jones,” Sora growled, “Axel, you can’t give it to him!  He’s the bad guy.”

Oh, so that’s Tentacle-Head’s name.

“Silence,” Jones snarled, “Remember, mercenary, we had a deal.”

“As long as you hold up your side,” Axel said, ignoring Sora’s appalled flailing, “Where is She?”

“Who are you talking about, Axel?” Sora cried.

“The Replica I’ve been chasing,” he answered, unable to help himself even as he kept his eyes laser-focused on Jones, “She’s here.  This guy captured her, offered to make a trade.”

“And I’m a man of my word.”

Jones jerked his chin to the side, and She suddenly tumbled out from the crowd, pushed by one of the crew waiting in the wings, only to be snatched up in Jone’s grip once more.

“The creature for the box.  Now, give it to me – if you want it to remain alive.”

They all stood for a long moment in a tense stand-off, all wanting the same prize, but only one available – and that in Axel’s hands.

A moment too long, it seemed.

Cannon fire hit the side of the ship, sending it rocking wildly.  The man’s grip loosened, and everything suddenly happened very quickly.

She jolted free, running across the deck.  Tentacle Man shouted, arm outstretched.  The boards of the deck splintered, then exploded outwards, a series of large pink tentacles piercing through the deck below to surround Her.

She stumbled to a stop.  The tentacles began to writhe, then tensed, then moved.

Heart in his throat, Axel dropped the box.  He lunged for Her.  Two different people moved for the box.  Sora called his name.  Axel barreled forward, his body crashing into Hers, the tentacle smashing into him.    As they went flying across the deck, he wrapped his arms around Her, holding her tight until they finally tumbled to a stop.

She was shaking in his arms.  When he could finally focus past the pounding of his heart in his ears, he slowly sat up, and with each inch She began to squirm more and more.

“Hey, hey,” he muttered, wrestling to get a grip on her arms without losing her entirely, “You’re okay, you’re – “

Her eyes jerked up, meeting his gaze – wide, empty yet somehow frantic, jerking weakly against his grip on her wrist, every inch of Her shaking.  Suddenly he was choking around his heart, stomach sinking.

“You’re terrified,” he whispered.

She slowly went still, not moving except for that near-imperceptible trembling.  He swallowed around a lump in his throat.

When would he ever learn?

Reaching up with his free hand, cupped a hand around the back of her head, stroking softly along her hair.  It hurt, stars it hurt – and yet, like a glutton for punishment, he reached out along his bond as well to the heart stored away in Sora, prepared for that sting of indifference, for Her to curl in on herself, away from him, ignoring him once more, but –

For the first time, he felt Her focus back on him.  She didn’t reach back, but it was more than he could ever remember having, and –

Staring into Her eyes, if he held Her shaky presence at the other end of their bond close, close, close, it was almost like She was standing in front of him, whole and complete.

And they were both trembling.  So scared…

Of him?

“Okay,” he whispered – to this empty form, to the heart at the other end of the line – forcing numb fingers to slowly, painfully, peel away from Her wrist.  Worse, he untangled his grip from their bond, readying himself for the ache of loneliness once more.

“Okay,” he repeated, “You keep running… as long as you need.  I’ll always be here – whenever you’re ready to come home.”

The replica stared, standing and pulling away slowly, as if testing, then one more foot when he didn’t respond.  Then –

“Look out!”

The world splintered around him, wood chips digging into his skin.  Something slammed into his chest, knocking the breath out of his lungs, before twisting around him, constricting.  With a jerk, it pulled backwards.  He was dragged across the deck, broken beams catching on his coat, tearing through fabric and skin.  He clawed at the scales, the deck, but he couldn’t make himself stop – and then, there was nothing to claw at all.

Just before he hit the waves, he heard a scream, voices layered over each other.

“Axel!”

Then, there was nothing but the thunderous pressure of the ocean and the crush of the tentacle around his chest, curling ever tighter.  He couldn’t move.  Now, it was only a matter of what would kill him first – drowning, or a popped ribcage.

Sorry, he thought, Looks like I won’t be able to keep that promise.  I just wish I could have seen you… one last time.

The surface of the ocean broke, a shadowed figure diving down.  The sea closed around him, dark and heavy, but he could just make out Her face, bright blue eyes piercing through the waves, framed by dark locks floating around her like a halo.

Oh, he thought, there you are.

Xion.

Xion pressed against the edges of Sora’s heart, peering through his eyes and aching, aching, aching.  Even from this distance, she could see how softly Axel looked at the puppet.  She wanted it: his eyes on her instead of that false facsimile, that empty shell taking her place.  It killed her she couldn’t have it.

Except, couldn’t she, if she just reached?  She could feel the body, had always been able to feel it, from the moment they first touched in San Fransokyo.  No matter how much she suppressed it, the tether between them remained, promising to pull her in the moment she lost her grip.  If she just reached, she could slip inside that body like pulling on a coat.

It terrified her.  What if she lost control, lost herself?  What if she ended up trapped in another cage?  What if she made things worse?

She felt Axel reaching out to her along their impossible bond – the warmth of his flames, the safest blaze she’d ever known, drawing near.  As if in response, the buzzing inside her that had haunted her for so long started up, whispering in her ear – run, run, run.  Yet some other force held her in place, kept her focus fixed on him.

It terrified her, but she was so tired of being cold.

Okay, his heart whispered, just a heartbeat behind the movement of his lips.

Okay, and he pulled back, pulled open, and suddenly she could see all of him, every broken inch, a mirroring ache bleeding out of his heart, keening wildly into the void I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry – I’ll love you forever – need me – want me – don’t run from me don’t leave me – steadfast hearthstones and candles in windows – every bit of it belongs to you you you – I will burn out my soul if it brings you back to me –

It hit her like an avalanche, like a shattering window.  She was breathless, unmoored – her entire being split in two, desperate for him but still – still! – somehow unable to reach out, still locked down by the ice gripping her lungs, by that damn buzzing that had haunted her for her entire existence, constantly hissing its refrain in her ear – run, move, go, run.

She nearly spiraled down, nearly lost herself within the comforting depths of sleep in Sora’s heart, when her host’s heart sparked with a flash of alarm –

“Look out!”

A tentacle rose from the ocean, crashing through floorboards and snatching Axel up in a crushing grip.

Xion lurched forward, smashing against the boundaries of Sora’s heart.  For the first time she tried to wrench control away from Sora herself, like she’d once seen Roxas do, but it slipped through her hands.  Her host himself seemed frozen in horror, lagging behind even as she begged him to move, move, move, she couldn’t do anything - !

Except, there was a body right there, within her reach.  That tether between them sang its siren song, even as her fears chanted in counter-point – what if, what if, what if?

But a sudden, startling new possibility stole her breath –

What if I do nothing, and I lose him?

He slipped over the edge of the ship, and she screamed, her host and her body screaming with her.

“Axel!”

She lunged – through space, through the ether, through nothingness – until she slammed into reality, slipping into the body easily, naturally – like a breath, like a stretch when waking in the morning.  There was – something, there – an echo, a wish, a memory, that accepted her gladly before fading with a sigh.  And just like that, the scattered pieces of her star snapped together, solidifying for the first time since she faded in Roxas’s arms.  Her powers whole, the damaged Dark chains that tried to control this body slid off like water, slack and loose.

Xion breathed, and it tasted like hope.

She snapped to perfect awareness already moving, already leaping over the edge.  The ocean was freezing, churning wildly, greedy and grasping – and pulling Axel away from her.  One last heaving breath, and she dove down, thanking Sora for the island skills he’d passed down to her.

She swam through the dark - heart nearly stopping when she saw the last flash of green eyes disappearing behind closing eyelids –

No!She snarled, and power surged through her, No, this would not be a parting, not again!

Light spilled into her hand, her Key forming, a brilliant blade that severed through the tentacle, freeing her Flightmate for her to clutch on to.

Stars, he was so heavy.  The coat didn’t help matters, soaking up water and dragging him down.  Still, she tried – she wouldn’t leave him like this, wouldn’t give up – but her lungs were burning, more and more till it felt like she would burst, and –

Another pair of hands came alongside her own, then something rough, the texture of rope, and they were being pulled up and out.

The moment her head breached water she gasped, and nearly drowned again when a wave knocked into her open mouth.  An unknown force tugged at Axel, pulling him from her grip and she thrashed, teeth baring, until a hand she knew as well as her own gripped her shoulder.

She met Sora’s gaze, heart racing.

“Let them take him up!” he shouted, barely audible over the sound of the storm.  Shaking, she let Axel go, taking the new rope Sora handed her in turn.  They were hauled up, all three of them, lifted until they could climb aboard once more.

Xion stumbled over the edge, knees nearly collapsing beneath her, only to be caught, nearly faceplanting into a chest.

“Easy, easy – “

She looked up and her rescuer cut off, blue-green eyes widening.

“Xion,” Riku finished breathlessly.  Her heart skipped, swooped, fell, raged – she pushed past him.  There was no time to rehash the past.  She needed Axel.

Behind Riku, Sora was crouched over her Flightmate, pressing rhythmically on his chest.  She rushed over, collapsing to her knees beside him, watching desperately as Sora moved between his chest and mouth.

CPR, she thought, but the flicker of stolen memories that should have come with it were missing, leaving only the knowledge behind.

Eventually, Axel spluttered, jerking awake and coughing, twisting abruptly to the side to spit out water.

“Axel!”

She lurched forward, hands clutching at his shoulders.  He gasped – only to choke on it, breaking into another round of hacking coughs that made her withdraw her hands, unsure.  Heart blaring alarm-no-staystaystay, he swayed abruptly towards her, free hand coming up only to hesitate between them, stopped by heartbreaking uncertainty.

Eyes burning, she swallowed down the grief-guilt-love that threatened to drown her, snagging his hand and bringing his palm up to her cheek, unable to prevent the horrible, selfish follow-up of please from leaking out of her.

She did this, she thought, with her hesitation and fear and rejection.  But still he moved towards her, immediately bleeding relief at her open invitation.  Despite just recovering from drowning, he shakily pulled himself up until he could skim his knuckles over her cheek, back around to the base of her skull, and bring her face down to press into his chest.

It was cold, and damp, and kind of uncomfortable, but then his heart pressed into hers and she was warm.  She pressed closer and was flooded with a sudden rush of gratitude and –

A sob ripped from her, hitching then wailing, her hands curling around to clench in the fabric at his side until her fingers stung, pulling him closer-closer-closer.  A horrible riot in her chest exploded out, rippling through her bones, her spine.  Axel crushed her to his chest in turn, arms wound so tight her bones began to ache, but that just meant she was here, was real.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, her heart cried, his heart screamed, their refrains one and the same.

I’m sorry.  I failed you.

I forgive you.

I missed you.

She wasn’t sure how long she stayed there, buried in his warmth and insensate to the outside world – long enough for her eyes to go raw, her sinuses to burn, her head to ache, for every breath to come drawn out and stuttering.

Long enough for the battle to go still, and the torrential rain to stop, and the sun to emerge from behind the clouds.

Eventually, she had to emerge.

When she could blink her eyes open again, she was in a dark cocoon, something soft and warm curled around her, keeping her warm.  His wings, she realized as they slowly retreated, flight feathers trailing across her back and arms as they tucked away.  Her own were out as well, she noticed, feeling them twitch.

A hand trailed over the expanse of her wing – and she could feel displaced feathers being shifted back into place, the sensation strangely both physical and emotional, as if by setting the wings into alignment he was soothing inside her, as well – and she was drawn back to Axel.

She looked up to meet his red-lined eyes, squeezing their bond tight once more, feeling him flicker in response –

Feeling the empty space beside them.

“Axel,” she said, swallowing around the sharp spike of pain in her heart, her throat, “Axel, Roxas is – “

“I know,” he said, “I know.”

“I’m sorry.  I couldn’t – I wasn’t strong enough, and now he’s – “

Axel took her hand, shaking his head.  Slowly, he lifted his other hand, manifesting his Key with a flash of sparks.  A strange, bittersweet smile on his face, he placed it in her palm, tenderly curling her fingers around it.

It pulsed like a candle, like a campfire, against her senses – but there was something else, beneath that.  A warmth of a different kind, familiar – she had felt that strength before.  Where - ?

The memory fell into her place, and her eyes snapped to Axel’s, hope sending her heart rioting inside her ribcage.

“This is - !”

“Yeah,” Axel agreed, “We’ll find him.  I’m not giving up on him.  Not ever.”

Of course he wouldn’t.  After all, he’d never given up on her.

She pressed that precious star closer to her chest for a moment before handing it back to Axel, watching as he let the Key return to the ether, taking his hand once it was empty.

“We’ll find him,” she agreed, “Together.”

Next

[mccdreamys-writes]

smiles for miles – 14. choices choices...

don't wanna know the other side of a world without you. - Ruelle, The Other Side

S E P T E M B E R   1 9 T H   2 0 1 1

Be kind to me my rapping heart I said until the tapping stopped As scars grew faint, yet ache still bore I found myself at heaven's door

Welcomed by a light soft spoken Waiting for the gates to open And guide me to that life next-door To let me wander 'round some more

"Are you lost?" I heard below A voice with sorrow's unmistakable flow From a heart wounded by life's ruthless seethe Pleading for me to follow and find solace beneath

As I stepped over to the shore I wondered where I'd been before "I'll be your guide," the voice did say Unveiling life's secrets in subtle display

"Where to now," I pondered, my spirit unfurled Trusting the voice in this uncertain world In the realm of shadows and stories untold Guiding me through mysteries yet to unfold

"This might not be a pleasure", it said "For your life wasn't all happy 'til end" And deep in my heart I knew that was true There was more than joy that I went through

As I reflected on life's essence, shrouded in mist Recalling just moments cherished, some missed For all that I wished, was to see what life held Upon me and the one that made my heart melt

Beneath the sprawling sky of midnight blue Hand in hand, 'neath the stars, us too "See her smile? It shines like the moon so bright" Silence followed, as I'm pulled from sight

"Why are we leaving?", not wanting to go Still no answer from the voice that had all to know Into a world devoid of her, it led me astray Where I yearned not to linger in love's disarray

"Please let me return," I pleaded in vain But we'd already journeyed far from that lane In the silent void without her presence "You chose this, remember?", the voice did answer

I looked upon a life where her essence had no place A chilling darkness enveloped, a void to embrace No stars to illuminate the lonely track Yet her memories, like constellations, guided me back

My 'Bama' self wrote all that I knew Hoping that one day she'd remember me too "Did she forget about me?" I wondered aloud The voice softly spoke, "In her dreams, you're proudly endowed"

"Why is she not coming for me?", Iplead Then the voice took me to parts I did never see In the silent whispers of memories unknown I witness her essence in life apart from my own

"She found solace in another's embrace," the voice did convey In her loss, a new love bloomed, guiding her way Downward my heart sank, consumed by despair The thought of her with him, too much to bear

"Take me from here", I begged and I pleaded For seeing her this happy had me defeated "Keep on watching", the voice had said Forcing me to watch in dread, their love wither far instead

The voice pushed me further on her life's path Where her days echoed with sorrow's aftermath Witnessing her mourn the absence of him and me Alone, yearning for how things used to be

"One last chapter, this I'll unveil" The voice led me to a room pristine and pale There, by my bedside, I beheld her form Her fingers intertwined with mine, a hope to weather the storm

"The time has come to choose," the voice, stern and bold "End your life's journey or let it unfold" The end of my life or one in fear of losing love's call Is that truly a choice, or no choice at all?

"I'm not ready to cross", I murmured, a whisper Undecided, yet resolute, my choice I consider For without her, my heart's longing voice And chances, too, fall to a silent noise

So be kind to me my rapping heart I said to make the tapping start As scars returned, yet ache no more I walked away from heaven's door

[faioula16]

Fate brough us together again Chap 1

It was an ordinary dark night in a forest area of London. The moon is painted in red, brightly lighting the dark night sky. It wasn't a good time for the world, especially for the people of London, to move safely since the ghouls and vampires were circulating out, hungry for human flesh and blood. Deep inside the forest, you were running as fast as you could, being chased by the hungry ghouls who had now surrounded you, smelling the fresh blood that has leaked from the wound you had acquired on the right side of your waist before you managed to escape and run away from your cruel and distrustful father.

 Your eyes widened, 'This is it, is this my end?' You thought as you saw the monsters encircling you, sprawled by their hungry stomachs. Poor girl, you closed your eyes tightly in fear as one of the ghouls opened its mouth wide and was ready to take a bite out of you...Till a gunshot rang in the night sky, hitting the ghoul between his cold lifeless eyes and killing him instantly by turning him to dust. As all the bodies of the other ghouls fall down to the ground, you could hear a sadistic laugh coming from the shadows.

You used your last strength to stand up due to the pain you were feeling from your wound. "Who's there? Show yourself!" You demanded firmly, looking right into the red eyes that were staring at your own. You could swear that the figure's sinister eyes winded for a short moment before they softened, looking at you in a familiar loving manner. As if someone used to look at you like that a long long time ago.

"Beautiful night, don't you think?" A deep soft male voice echoed in your head as the figure finally reveald itself and came from its hiding spot and stood some meters afar right before you. Silently you looked at him in shock and a bit wary. It was a tall, long-limbed, broad-shouldered adult man of indeterminate but reasonably young age, 

The man has short jet black hair and his bangs fall slightly in his red glowing eyes, with strands on the sides of his bangs framing his face. He was dressed in a charcoal suit, leather riding boots, and an intricately knotted red cravat, covered by a full-length, red frock overcoat with a short cape surrounding a bit his broad shoulders. He also wears a red fedora with a wide, floppy brim and a pair of circular, heavily tinted, wire-framed orange sunglasses with goggle sidings. His gloves, which are engraved with a seal are also thought to be part of this mechanism. 

"Never seen a vampire before?" He placed his gun in his coat and slowly walked closer. "Don't be frightened, I am not hungry for innocent people's blood...not for tonight at least" His grin was wide, revealing his pure white teeth along with his fangs.

"You're...the one people call Alucard, aren't you?" You pointed out as you watched the vampire taking down to his one knee to reach your height level as if he was a knight bowing to his beloved princess. Little did you know this was actually the case. That the vampire king has finally found the very dearest person to him his enemies had killed back in his human years.

His head rise up slowly to look at you as your heads were facing each other, well compare to the much taller form he was forced to lower his head a bit in order to have a better look at you. "So you have heard of me I see. Well, would you like to tell me what your name is then?"

"My name Y\N L\N. A lot of people have spoken of you and that you work in an organization that kills vampire and supernatural creatures"

"Huh, and you find it disgusting that I kill my own kind I assume" His eyes glowing no more however his sunglasses were preventing you from being able to see the way he was looking at you right now.

"I have no option about this matter as long as it has nothing to do with me be certain about that. But thanks to you and your partners' help London is not completely lost. I might even admire such a job"

He hummed in response a bit surprised by your answer. Then a girn appeared across his face once again, but this time was a happy one like a child had the most brilliant idea that had ever crossed its mind. "Do you wish to become my partner then?"

"What?" You stared up at him a shock. "No I don't wish to become a vampire like you, two things I will never abandon as long as I am alive are my humanity and the persons I care about. I see you can sense I am injured but also I have to inform you that am not a virgin so even if you would force yourself on me I would only turn into a ghoul....you are not the one to want such useless minions. Am I right?"

His long arm reached out to cup gently your left cheek to his large palm, making you blush lightly to his touch as a result. "I would never do this to you" His voice sounded so ever soft and honest. You could see it hid so much emotion behind his words that even you weren't able to describe it completely. With his free hand he took off his sunglasses and you were finally able to see his eyes clearly for the first time.

"I know you...but how and from where?" You questioned mostly yourself as you were thinking out loud. His touch itself made you feel pure bliss and that nothing could ever harm you. His eyes...such a beautiful ocean of sunset.

"You're hurt, let me help you" Alucard tried to bring you closer to him in an attempt to lift you off the ground but stopped once his ears perked the sound of your groans of pain. "I know you may suffer right now but you must remain strong and come with me otherwise you're going to bleed to death. you don't wish to die tonight, do you?" He sounded very serious but also the tone of his voice hid real concern too. Alucard stood up straight with you in his arms in bridal style. "And the night has just begun, my princess"

[redisaid]

Beneath the Blue Moon - Chapter 3

Dark

Democracy has spoken yet again, so here's another chapter of your choices. You all are so mean to Jaina and gave her the worst emotional support anyone could ask for.

I love it.

Oh yeah and, NSFW.

5758 Words

Read it on Ao3!

Take me back to the night we met.

I don't know what I'm supposed to do,

Haunted by the ghost of you.

Oh, take me back to the night we met.

“Well, this is fucking depressing.”

Jaina turned to the voice that should not have been there. Well, not that she wanted anyone to be there at all, witnessing her crumpled, knees to chest on the side of her bed, crying and staring at her hand.

Nor did she expect to look up to find Valeera Sanguinar, of all people, making such a declaration as she faded back in from the shadows. The elven rogue stood with her arms crossed in front of Jaina’s open bedroom door, which had been locked previously, though was no doubt hardly a challenge for Valeera.

Valeera, who had no reason to be here in Proudmoore Keep. While she had been present at the meeting in the harbor that morning, she had declined an invitation to be housed at the keep while further Alliance meetings were moved there--citing her efforts to maintain neutrality on behalf of the Uncrowned.

Yet here she was, in Jaina’s room in the middle of the night, looking down at her as she did her best to stop the tears and get herself together. She knew Valeera hated crying.

“Are you aware that no guards are coming?” Valeera asked with a quick glance behind her to assure herself of that fact.

“I certainly hope not,” Jaina groaned as she tried to reign herself in and have a conversation she didn’t want to have in any way shape or form.

Valeera tsked, shutting the door behind her after once again confirming the hallway was empty. “It’s just that, you know, their Lord Admiral is screaming bloody murder in the middle of the night and sobbing,” she noted.

Jaina supposed that Valeera’s initial comment was on the state of her security and not on her, though maybe a little of both. Subterfuge had always been the rogue’s specialty, rather than empathy, but perhaps for that very reason, it was good that she would be the one to find Jaina like this, rather than some poor guardsman.

“We shifted them to cover our guests,” Jaina explained. “Besides, I’m an Archmage, Valeera. I don’t need a guard.”

“You look like you need a drink,” Valeera noted.

Jaina looked up to find her glowing green eyes trained on the mark that was still radiating soft blue light from the back of her hand. She knew that there would be no hiding such a detail from anyone, but especially from the trained eyes of a spy.

A spy who wasn’t supposed to be in her keep.

“Why are you here?” Jaina asked, mostly to delay the inevitable.

“Anduin,” was Valeera’s answer.

“Not going to tell me more?” Jaina prodded.

She wiped her face with the hand that hadn’t just shattered her perception of reality itself. Taking stock of the situation, she realized the pain in her shoulder had dulled back to ignorable at best. A sense of calm and serenity that most certainly did not belong to her was itching at the back of her skull. It was familiar. So familiar.

Right, she remembered. This was what it felt like when Sylvanas was sleeping.

Why the hell was she sleeping?

“You so graciously offered him a room at your keep and I needed to talk to him before I left Boralus,” Valeera explained. “I simply saw myself in, had a lovely chat with him, and was on my way towards seeing myself out.”

“You could just request audiences and allow people to know where you are, like a normal person,” Jaina told her, knowing full well Valeera would never be caught dead doing such a thing.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Valeera asked.

As they spoke, those green eyes took in the room. Jaina knew they were sketching out every detail of it to memory. Every weakness, every bit of interest. She had no doubt she could ask Valeera which of her pillows was slightly ajar a week from now and she’d still remember. Behind that facade of a devil-may-care attitude, Jaina knew one of the brightest minds in all of Azeroth whirred like a gnomish gearbox, constantly ready to process any sort of new information.

And unfortunately, the most pertinent information of the hour was glowing like a beacon on the back of Jaina’s hand.

“You were right before,” Jaina told her, patting the bed next to her. “I do need a drink.”

Valeera finally laughed and relented to the invitation when Jaina reached over and pulled out a flask from the drawer in her nightstand.

She took Jaina’s cue to sit, her armor an odd crimson against the deep Kul Tiran green of the bedspread. Valeera was small and slight, even for an elf. Jaina knew her to be young but not young enough for that smallness not to be a permanent factor in her life. And from what she knew of this woman, she could guess at its origins--a childhood spent an orphan and then being starved in the pits to toughen her up for gladiatorial combat. Valeera never got enough of anything, and thus was small for it. Small and always hungry, for information or magic or anything she didn’t really need to have or be seeking.

And while Jaina remembered the nights she spent at her bedside in Theramore, worrying at what they would do to temper and control those cravings, she also knew that sometimes, a little indulgence worked better. Controlled indulgence, that was.

Either way, it was better that Valeera hear this from her than anyone else. So Jaina popped the cap of the flask and took a swig of the mana-infused whiskey inside of it, then passed it to Valeera.

Valeera laughed her deep, throaty laugh again, sniffing the flask first before she too downed some of its contents. Jaina could still smell the fire of the whiskey on her breath when she asked, “So, when are you going to tell me why your fucking hand is glowing all of the sudden?”

“You’ll be disappointed to know that I don’t really know why,” Jaina told her as she claimed the flask back. She intended to take another draught of it to make explaining this easier, but just ended up fiddling with the cap while she thought out what the reason truly could be. “It just started as you so happened to be sneaking through my keep.”

“But that means something has changed with--”

“--Her. Yes.”

Sylvanas. Jaina had made a habit of not saying the name when she could avoid it. Some of her friends and acquaintances had picked up on it and joined her in not saying it around her. And that suited Jaina just fine. She already had a mark on her body to remind her of what she’d lost. And then the fact that the woman who bore that name still somehow walked the world despite that loss. And in the last year or so, she had managed to become the fucking Warchief of the Horde of all things, so that meant Jaina heard the name enough.

And old habits, while they served no real purpose and helped nothing and no one, died hard.

Jaina took another swig of the whiskey. It was smokey and smooth, but still whiskey. The mana bit back as a sharp, yet somewhat metallic tang, as arcane often did. Jaina winced both sensations as they mingled on her palette before adding, “But I don’t know what.”

“I mean, I have no idea how these things work besides all the lovey dovey crap that people say about it, but can’t you tell?” Valeera asked.

Valeera’s aversion to the subject of soulmates was distinctly un-elven of her. Another feature telling of her distance from her people and their culture and the love that should have come with it for her. Her own soulmark was not on display, despite how little of her body was even covered by that armor, and Jaina couldn’t recall ever having seen it in the past. To anyone else, having it be present somewhere hidden and possibly salacious would be a scandal that would haunt them through their entire life. But for Valeera, it was fitting. There was nothing about her that wasn’t hidden or salacious or somehow both.

Jaina shrugged, turning her head a little to regard Valeera as she explained, “No, I can’t. I only know that I can feel her again. She’s injured on her shoulder. And she’s sleeping right now.”

“I thought undead didn’t sleep,” Valeera said.

“So did I,” Jaina agreed.

“What the fuck was she doing?” Valeera asked, probably of herself, and reached for the flask again.

“I don’t know.”

To be perfectly honest with herself, Jaina tried not to know. She tried to stay out of it. The world often didn’t let her. She often longed for a reality in which she truly could separate herself from any kingdom or faction or the goings-on between any of them, but try as she might, she simply could not do so with good conscience. Whether it was her magic or the people she’d come to love, duty would call on them one way or another, and thus would call on Jaina to follow. And she’d tried to resist the call. She had. Even during the fight against the Legion, she’d managed it, taking out her rage at Khadgar’s casual possession of Dalaran in her own way, on her own time. For once, alone.

But it didn’t last. It never lasted. Once the surge of emotion was gone, and the sting it left behind, Jaina would feel empty. And she had long ago realized that feeling overburdened suited her far more than feeling empty.

Valeera kicked back a hearty swig of the flask--enough to make a true Kul Tiran sailor blush. She sighed out the taste of the whiskey and offered no further wisdom aside from, “This would go great in some coffee. Or even tea.”

“Too cold for you here in Boralus?” Jaina asked, welcoming the option to talk about something with any degree of certainty to it.

Valeera shook her head, passing the flask back again. “I’m leaving, so it doesn’t matter. Also I don’t have the occasion to be drinking straight whiskey like you, though I do appreciate you sharing. Both the occasion and the whiskey, that is.”

“I’d offer to bring some mixers up from the kitchen, but--”

“You were just sobbing alone for ten minutes while I debated whether or not to come in and I hate to say it, but you look like it,” Valeera finished for her. “On that thought, are you going to hide it?”

“What?”

“The mark.”

Jaina hadn’t thought that far ahead. She very well could. The glow would not show through the usual leather of her gloves and especially not through the armored gauntlet she usually wore in public. Fabric would be another thing, but truth be told, no one would ever have to see her in anything less than her full battle dress. No one did, really. Not anymore.

She tried to think of what the others might say, if she were to let them see. No doubt they’d try to use her as some sort of intelligence device--to use this bond to feed their war without taking into account that whatever had changed about it might be a means to end it. She could see it now, how Greymane would snarl and ask her what the Banshee was doing, even though he would know exactly how little she could tell him. His own mark shown bright blue even when he was fully a worgen, turning the fur that sprouted from it into the same glowing blue. Such was the ferocity of his love for his wife, and no doubt the love for their son--and with it the hatred for the woman who’d slain him.

Yes, he would remind Jaina of that, definitely.

Jaina came to her answer. “For now? Probably.”

“Until when?” Valeera wondered aloud.

“Until I know why this has happened,” Jaina told her.

Jaina’s head was running wild with theories already. Truth be told, it had been from the moment Valeera revealed herself from the shadows, both out of a need to explain and a want to know.

But indeed, the problem was that her soulmate was Sylvanas Windrunner--burner of Teldrassil, murderer of Liam Greymane, Warchief of the Horde, enemy of the Alliance, and defacto enemy of the neutral state of Kul Tiras it was once again courting. Her soulmate, sleeping soundly still, was a woman who Jaina had loved so much and then had come to hate along with everyone else. It had been easy to say that the bond between them was so irrevocably broken by what had been done to her that nothing of the Sylvanas she had loved remained. It had been Jaina’s ever-present excuse--one that no one would dare to challenge. Sylvanas’ soul was gone or dead or something to the point where she wasn’t herself. It was written on Jaina’s skin.

Or at least, it had been.

Jaina finally took a moment to look at her hand fully without the veil of tears standing in her eyes. The mark was very much blue, but dimmer than it ever had been when it was ignited many years before--when it had burned so immediately bright that all of Sylvanas’ friends and family beamed at her during that week, knowing full well that meant the love between them was already so strong.

And now it was just a flicker of a candle flame, threatening to wink out. Jaina felt it might be easier if it did, and she could just call this some fluke. And then a pang of guilt followed that thought that felt so strange and wrong and overwhelming that she had to take another swig of the whiskey. Enough to make her cheeks flush.

But not enough to give her any sense of direction. “I swear to you, it just happened,” Jaina repeated. “And I don’t know why.”

“It’s not like I don’t believe you,” Valeera told her. “And I don’t know why either. You’ve had a memorial mark since I’ve known you. Those things don’t change, but you have to admit your circumstances are different than most.”

“I’m well aware,” Jaina noted. “But I don’t think anyone quite understands to what degree. Much less me.”

Valeera shrugged at that, her eyes still darting around the room. She stuck out a gloved hand, pointing one red finger at Jaina. “Well, let’s think through it. You love thinking through things. One, obviously something has changed. Probably about Syl--her. Sorry. Her.”

Valeera was one of few people who seemed to remember this need of Jaina’s to avoid the name, and never questioned it despite the fact that it didn’t make much sense. She was a good friend, though Jaina could never really tell her that to her face. She ought to talk more with her, but well, years and responsibilities had their way of getting in the way--even for someone who tried to avoid them as much as Valeera did.

Valeera counted off on another red finger, “Two, something has changed about her soul. Which, you know, I also think no one quite understands either. I know that some undead keep their bonds through their undeath, others don't. She obviously wasn’t one of them.”

“Obviously,” Jaina agreed. “And it’s been a subject of much debate and research ever since the Third War. I remember finding notes Kinndy would make about it all the time. She kept a journal. I think she meant to talk to me about what she found one day, but she never did. Wait. I bet you read that journal when you were staying with us.”

“You know I did,” Valeera replied with a smirk. “You had lots of interesting books and people in Theramore in those days. And I won’t say anything beyond that because I don’t need you bursting into tears actively while I’m here. I’m not a crying person, Jaina. I don’t know what to do about, around, or for crying.”

“I know.”

She did know. Jaina knew that Valeera didn’t even have the emotional capacity for herself, let alone someone else, so it was all the more touching, or possibly concerning, that she came into this room at all. Perhaps she felt she owed a debt for the times that Jaina had seen her in tears herself--unbidden and unwelcome all the same--and had held her through them.

In Theramore, Jaina had held so many people through so many tears. She’d been a rock--no, an anchor. An anchor can still hold fast while it sinks.

“Good,” Valeera noted, then held up a third finger. “Moving on. Three, whatever it is that happened literally just happened. So, it’s not like anyone really knows besides you and her and whoever is with her right now.”

Which was its own unsettling thought. Who even was with her? Sylvanas, even in death, really only kept select company. Her Rangers, probably, the same as ever. Only they were as dead as she was. Jaina had been dealing with reports of Nathanos Marris stalking the countryside of Kul Tiras during her week of learning to assume the Lord Admiral’s duties. Though now apparently he called himself Nathanos Blightcaller and was particularly keen on small acts of terrorism. He still clung to Sylvanas like a flea, just as he had in his living days. Jaina knew the names of others too. Anya Eversong. Vorel Daystrike. Velonara Dawnsea. Clea Goldenpath.

All names and faces she remembered, laughing and welcoming her. Faces that had changed so much since--now all ashen skin and red eyes and Horde banners. Did the elven women she remembered give themselves new names too? Did they forsake their legacies when they took on the banner for the Forsaken?

Jaina didn’t know. She didn’t know so much. Once, it had felt pertinent to avoid those details for sanity’s sake, but now she cursed herself, wishing she’d kept up. Though, to be fair, she certainly didn’t ever think that she’d be facing the problem she was now.

Jaina looked at her hand again as Valeera seemed to struggle with a fourth detail to ground them in.

“What do you think happened?” Jaina asked as she stared at the blue moon that was etched into her skin.

“I don’t know,” Valeera said with an incredulous wave of that hand before her reasonings vanished with it. “Maybe she sacrificed a baby about it? Who knows?”

It was so easy to believe something ridiculous like that. So easy to just push the divide further apart by saying that Sylvanas was on the bad side and Jaina was on the good. And while she had burned world trees and waged war and done awful things, Jaina knew, deep down, that both sides of the war were as guilty as each other. She longed for a commitment to neutrality like Valeera had created for herself, but even then, Valeera herself had just said she was on her way to do something for Anduin, and therefore something for the Alliance. No one could really escape it.

But for every Theramore, there was a purge of Dalaran. Jaina had learned to stop counting losses long ago, before she’d even begun to stop herself from saying Sylvanas’ name aloud. Trying to add up tit for tat only left one with a headache and a feeling of being owed. War didn’t owe anything to anyone. It just was.

All the same, she knew Sylvanas probably didn’t sacrifice a baby about it. No, Sylvanas Windrunner, known war criminal, was usually a great deal more shrewd and subtle than that, even when it was easy to say she was a soulless husk of undeath and misery. At least she was in the opinion of one Jaina Proudmoore, also known war criminal.

“Where were you going after this, Valeera?” Jaina thought to ask.

“I see what you’re about to do and I shouldn’t like it,” Valeera told her. “But the answer is none of your business.”

“Is it Dazar’alor?”

It was a good guess that made sense, to Jaina’s credit. Anduin was very concerned about the Horde attacking Boralus, but also respectful enough of Jaina’s choice to continue waiting to see what would happen next before offering her navy. He would be quite concerned about what they were planning. And if they were planning an assault, it would come from the port of the very neutral naval faction that they were courting, and the one who would be very happy to wipe out any remaining Kul Tiran dominance on the seas.

“And if it is?” Valeera asked.

It was. It had to be. The way she was glaring at Jaina, with a little smirk as she gestured for the flask again.

Jaina handed it to her. “I’m just saying, Anduin might want to know what’s going on with her. On her ship. If it’s still in the harbor, that is.”

“I suppose if I were to trip over the Banshee’s Wail, the very flagship of the Horde fleet, that I could let you know what was going on around her decks,” Valeera offered without really offering before she took one more big swig of the whiskey. Probably too big of one for someone about to go on an espionage mission, but Jaina wasn’t here to judge or tell her how to do her job--or who to do it for, for that matter.

“If you choose to do so, then please be careful,” Jaina requested, holding her hand out for the flask.

Valeera handed it back one last time as she pushed herself off the bed and onto her feet with an acrobatic flourish she didn’t need to add, but did anyway. “If I choose to do anything, you know that you really don’t have a choice in the matter. But, if I see her, I’ll try to figure out what’s happened.”

“Only because you’re curious yourself, of course,” Jaina offered as an excuse before taking her own sip of whiskey.

“Of course,” Valeera said with a red-lipped smirk that her shoulder and hood almost hid. Almost.

She began to walk away, and Jaina almost thought to call her back, rather than watch her fade into the shadows again. But Valeera stopped. She didn’t fade.

Instead, she asked, “Did you love her, Jaina?”

“Before?” was ever the question.

“What other time was there?”

“Not much. But yes, I loved her,” Jaina said.

Jaina had known that from the moment she first saw her--grinning and golden as she waited at the portal. Vibrant and a little cocky--her smile lopsided and her hair obnoxiously perfect. She was tall and broad-shouldered, stiff-backed but with laughter that rang first in her eyes. Soft grey eyes that were gone now, replaced by sinister crimson. Sun-kissed skin with a tiny smattering of freckles, and that too was gone--now cold and ashen.

Loved was the right tense. Jaina didn’t know this Sylvanas, this woman who stood on the other side of the battlefield--who normally wouldn’t even look at her when they were close enough to share a glance. Only once, really, did she. It had been so recent and so chilling that Jaina couldn’t yet banish the memory.

She couldn’t quite forget how she’d caught Sylvanas’ eyes in the throne room at Lordaeron, and watched for a moment as they flickered from rage and mocking and fear and then to her, and to a brief moment of something else. A softness that was not at home amidst red fury. An apology. A plea. A wail that she wouldn’t let out. A moment that only they shared.

A weakness, Jaina had told herself. A weakness for them both, she reminded herself.

“She was the best thing to ever happen to me, and then the worst,” Jaina went on. “And if you’re asking me how I feel right now, I don’t have an answer. I feel everything and nothing, and I don’t know enough to feel either.”

That was one way to put it, at least. The whiskey wasn’t the only thing turning Jaina’s stomach. She honestly had no idea what to do or what was happening. And for everything, the lack of control over the situation was probably the worst thing of all.

“And people wonder why I’m not obsessed with looking for my one true love,” Valeera said, affecting a silly voice for the last bit. “No thank you. I’d rather not ever be in your shoes. Or really ever have to care that much about anyone but me.”

“You’re a good friend, Valeera,” Jaina told her, despite the fact that being free of any attachment sounded very good and very logical right now.

“That’s it, I’m leaving,” Valeera stated as she whipped her cloak around with a bit more drama than was warranted.

“Be safe,” Jaina warned all the same.

“I’m always safe,” Valeera told her. “You’re the one who is in danger of being something else besides safe right now. Go to bed and sleep off that whiskey, Lord Admiral. Hopefully by the time you wake, some kind rogue will have left a bit of helpful information at your doorstep.”

Valeera faded into the night, melting into the shadows of Jaina’s doorway as she let herself out. The door closed on what seemed like nothing by a breeze in the darkness, rustling curtains with it as it went.

From the window, the moon still peered inside. Dim and listless as the crescent on Jaina’s hand. Waning.

Maybe it was tired of its constant vigil. Jaina knew she certainly was.

Valeera’s advice was good, and Jaina knew she should follow it. She put the flask back into the bedside drawer, nearly empty now, and made a note to top it off later. And while she did feel some of the buzz of the whiskey warming her thoughts and trying to coax them away from her worries, Jaina didn’t think she’d sleep again that night. Even as she laid back down, her mind raced with what all this could mean. What she would do. What the morning would bring.

But then at the back of it, that slow and serene warmth started to creep in. Sylvanas slept soundly and peacefully somewhere in this world. She always had back in life. Jaina had used that thread of a connection to lull herself to sleep many times. She’d even written Sylvanas a few letters thanking her for that fact. And even the night before she died, she’d slept like a rock, and Jaina had tumbled after that feeling, wanting to believe everything would be all right, even as she knew that Arthas was besieging the Elf Gates with everything he had.

So it was only natural that Jaina did find her sleep in that old comfort. In the lie and strangeness of it. Because it was a guilty pleasure only she would know of and reach for and understand. It might be her only chance to have it again tonight, after all. Or maybe this too was some cruel dream.

It was hard to say.

Just as it was hard to say where the line between dream and memory was for her. Because sleep immediately put her into one that was both. But not the same one. This was new but old. A perfectly rendered scene of a day long past. And through her shred of self-awareness, Jaina could only wonder how it would twist into wrongness again.

She watched as Sylvanas turned to grin at her, shutting the door to her room in Windrunner Spire behind her. She wore nothing but a robe that would be considered scandalously short by human standards, but Jaina certainly didn’t mind the view it gave of her long, toned legs. Definitely not at all, from where she lay on the bed, naked but for the silken sheets that only covered a very small portion of her.

“Breakfast, lunch, and dinner ordered. The cook will drop them at the door,” Sylvanas declared proudly. “I realize now that I don’t even know what you like to eat for either and probably should have asked.”

“I’m not picky,” Jaina said with a laugh. “But I also don’t know what’s common for breakfast in a noble house in Quel’thalas.”

“We still have so much to learn,” Sylvanas said, the delight at that notion plain and beautiful on her face.

“We’ll get there,” Jaina encouraged her, beckoning her grinning elf over toward the bed again.

Sylvanas was all too-happy to oblige that request, and even undid the sash of her robe as she strode over, giving Jaina a very nice view of the front of her before she laid beside her. The silk of the robe draped them both like a waterfall. It was a deep cobalt blue, edged with gold, as all of Sylvanas’ things seemed to be.

Jaina slid her hand beneath it, pulling Sylvanas close as she told her, “I like elven coffee, for one, so if breakfast has that, it’s already a win in my book.”

“Of course it does,” Sylvanas told her. “In an enchanted carafe that won’t get cold, should you be distracted from breakfast. And we like pastries here in Quel’thalas. So probably some of those. And fruit. Lots of fruit.”

“Who doesn’t like pastries, coffee, and fruit?” Jaina asked with a laugh. “But the distraction sounds like a threat.”

“Mmm, it is. Truly a monstrous threat,” Sylvanas joked even as she made good on that threat, reaching out to pull her closer as well.

She buried her face in Jaina’s neck, growling playfully as she kissed along it. Jaina could feel her smile into the skin as she no doubt felt the echo of Jaina’s own shiver of pleasure at the act. This shared sensation was new and addicting, especially when combined with sex. Jaina was quite certain that an entire day would not be enough. They would probably need months to get over this, if the night before had been any indication.

Not that she was in a hurry to. Especially as that surge of confidence radiated back to her and started a loop she knew would carry them through long after breakfast had been delivered. She only hoped the cook didn’t have very good hearing. Though he was an elf, so likely not.

And Jaina didn’t care. She stopped caring the moment Sylvanas’ lips whispered across her clavicle and into the hollow of her throat. She’d lost all sense of space and time and what could or would or should be appropriate when Sylvanas tugged her closer and closer until there was only skin touching skin touching skin and a little silk of the robe inbetween and the echoing of it through one another. This was so unlike anything Jaina had ever felt and so very much worth days being spent introducing herself to three dozen odd Rangers and officers and magisters and nobles and Windrunner cousins.

But they didn’t exist now. Not anymore. The world was only them. It was only Sylvanas’ satisfaction in her growing arousal, and Jaina’s bliss in those strong arms she already knew could do so much for her, but was about to learn would do more.

As if Sylvanas understood that without it being said, she used those strong arms to flip them, laughing as she did, until they were both sitting on the soft mattress, and the sheets had fallen away. Then Sylvanas guided Jaina into her lap, and had her kneel there.

“Let me see you in the morning sun,” Sylvanas pleaded, her voice soft and low. Her grey eyes shone with wicked promises.

Jaina could feel a twinge of importance in this request. Maybe it was something cultural, or just the desires of her new lover to watch her this way. Either way, she knew Sylvanas felt the shiver of the request run through her.

Still, she answered, “You can see all of me, whenever you like.”

Sylvanas seemed satisfied at this, though that was an understatement for what Jaina felt across the bond. A bit of surprise. A fair bit of heady attraction. And love. Certainly love.

Sylvanas placed a sweet kiss to the center of her chest, right at the apex of her sternum, then drew her closer and finally touched Jaina where she very much needed to be touched. She watched her as she rubbed slow circles over her clit, and Jaina could feel the delight in how wet she was for her reverberating on top of her own pleasure. It was exhilarating and inebriating at the same time. She was drunk on Sylvanas and the way she made her feel, and how that made her feel in turn.

This was the part of the soulmate bond no one ever talked about, and honestly, Jaina didn’t quite know how she’d even venture to explain it herself. Suffice to say, the sex was insane. And she had a lifetime of it to look forward to.

And if Sylvanas had any complaints about their using this sacred bond so that she could feel how it felt to ride her own fingers once she added them to the mix, then she certainly wasn’t complaining. Nor was Jaina at the reflection of the sensation of herself tightening around them. And not at all when Sylvanas was gasping at the echoes of Jaina’s pleasure into her ear as she came.

The dream never turned. It kept to the memory as Jaina knew it, as she never let herself experience it in her waking hours. It stayed a morning in which she became quite grateful for the enchanted carafe, as the coffee would have long been cold by the time they remembered it. It played out just the same even as Sylvanas finally poured her a steaming cup of it--her hair a mess and eyes wild and grin bigger than ever. The robe was still on her somehow, clinging only to one shoulder. Jaina watched herself, happiest that she’d ever been, debate with her lover about whether they should have a nap or a bath after they ate, like it was the only important decision they’d ever have to make.

And she envied them. She envied the lie they lived in that moment. The old, golden moment.