#Desolation comes upon the sky | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

musamora · 8 months

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𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖉 「𝔩𝔲𝔠𝔦𝔣𝔢𝔯」 ೀ⋆｡˚

content. f!reader. discussions of separation/divorce, friends to lovers, (name) is a fallen angel, sexual harassment, insecurities, discussions of mental health, spoilers for hazbin hotel season finale, implied/referenced not-safe for work. not proofread. 3.3k+ words.

author's note. i'm not sure if i'll be making a valentine's day post, but i haven't updated in a while, and i wanted to post something. so here's another hazbin hotel oneshot that's been in my drafts for a while! (sorry to all my bsd readers, i will be posting content soon!) i hope you guys enjoy ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-

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synopsis. two fallen ones, cut from the same cloth, destinies forever intertwined by the choices you made as young seraphim.

OR someone comes in to try and ruin your relationship with lucifer, and he isn't happy about it.

You remembered the sensation of an eternal inferno, the mark of damnation that scorched your fingertips, submerging your divine being within a cluster of flames. Exiled from the heavens—a fate worse than death to most became an accepted element of your newfound reality. You never belonged perched atop clouds, even with the virtue nestled in the recesses of your heart. A part of you feared the unknown as you descended through novas and clouds, but it felt like a pressure had lifted from your being as those imposing gates shrunk behind you.

As the first of a cluster of falling stars, your impact landed you on the steaming ground of a new, hellish landscape, your mind scattered from the force of the fall, limbs trembling with their aching joints. And that was when you saw him, a brand-new man who held out his hand, smile desperate yet reassuring. The Morning Star himself, brought upon the same fate, still shaken from the tragedy of his descent—it had been much more personal for him.

“It’ll be okay, (Name),” his familiar voice reassured, but it was impossible not to hear the waver in his tone as your hands intertwined. “It’ll all be okay.”

And with a single touch, traversing hand-in-hand through this foreign land, you knew that someday, he would be right.

But that happened many millennia ago, a tale for storybooks rather than a memory that should’ve constantly been on a loop in your mind, held onto during the dead of lonely, bitter nights. Despite your long-standing friendship, the both of you held very separate lives—him with his family, you with your industry. You worked in tandem in relation to the public and aristocratic duties but otherwise barely spoke past the occasional smile and wave. And no, you couldn’t help the desolation that had sprouted inside your heart, the muscle aching as you observed his radiant smile from across ballrooms, the king exchanging affectionate glances at his wife while coddling his sweet daughter. But you were happy for him all the same. He deserved to be surrounded by those he loved, deserved to be happy after years of heartbreak, even if you weren’t in the picture.

But you knew that you could depend on each other, even if you hadn’t spoken in months. It was an unspoken connection between you, a rule unbroken. Which was the reason you knew his midnight call one evening had been serious. His voice was flooded with anguish, sputtering out incomprehensible words as his breath caught with every beat. You dropped everything, the paperwork and meeting planning, flying over with speed so fast that the denizens of Hell whispered for days about the shooting star that had flown across the sky that evening.

In your journey, there was one persistent question that kept bothering you—why wasn’t his wife the one to comfort him? It wasn’t that you minded, not at all, but the entire situation struck you as odd. However, your answer became clear as you cracked open the doors to his bed chambers; the room was frozen and still as if left abandoned. However, the knocked-over furniture and smashed artifacts only made it look like it was robbed, which you highly doubted. And there in the center of the chaos was the Morning Star himself—no, Lucifer. Simply Lucifer. His body crumpled to the ground, painful hiccups leaving his lips. You slipped inside with ease and were about to grab his attention, and then you spotted it, the large lettering of a familiar type of document—a divorce agreement.

You were aware that the relationship between Lucifer and Lilith wasn’t perfect, not by any means. When they had fallen in love, there wasn’t a guideline for navigating relationships and marriage. They had to play it entirely by ear, leading to rushed decisions and a shaky foundation. You had always believed that they were each other’s perfect half, but it was only because their punishment and subsequent banishment had tied them together and forced them to suffer the same fate. At least, that was their belief for a couple of millennia. It didn’t mean that the split that was bound to happen didn’t hurt.

His cries had been hard to hear, throaty and painful, his body trembling as he mourned on the floor. It took a culmination of your mental and physical strength to unravel him, forcing him away from those papers and into an embrace, slowly steadying his breath with yours as he clung to you as if you would leave if he let go. That night set the standard for weeks of a miserable routine, with the former king reduced to sobs and silence. It was unbearable, especially as he pulled away from those who cared for him—his fellow sins, his friends, and especially his daughter. But you continued to hold on, not leaving even with his harsh utterances and occasional outbursts. You wouldn’t let him be alone, couldn’t let him be alone, moving into the broken family’s manor to care for him full-time.

And he would always be thankful for that.

His mental health was climbing uptick for years, fluctuating back and forth until he had stabilized, at least in comparison to his state before. He became fantastic at masking his depression, brushing it underneath the rug as he delved into his own creations, pushing many of his relationships even further away as he stopped leaving home. You were the one to bring him food and clean the estate—his staff had drifted to other careers over the past few years. You were the one assuring that he wasn’t left hunched over a bench in the worst posture possible, toiling away with his latest obsession, no matter the cuteness of the ducks.

In his more conscious moments, you would listen as he ranted about his issues, even though you both were aware they were a product of his self-isolation. But in those instants, whispering quietly as if the heavens still held onto your every word, hiding from its light as if the touch of it would scorch your skin, an intimacy blossomed from the depths of your former friendship. It had remained idle for centuries, underlying the foundation of every interaction and word, leaving fleeting touches and shared laughter in your blissful youths for stern support and brief softness in your demonic adulthoods—neither of you ever noticed that you saw the other through heart-shaped lenses. Two fallen ones, cut from the same cloth, destinies forever intertwined by the choices you made as young seraphim.

But that had been the norm for thousands of years.

And without knowing, you had fallen into a relationship stage humans had archaically dubbed as “courting,” traveling outside the estate for the chance to spend time with one another, exchanging personalized gifts whenever the opportunity arose, swapping words of encouragement and affection. It was only after you had kissed him on the cheek one night that you both realized your feelings, and it only spiraled on from there. There were scars from his past love—undoubtedly, you had nurtured them with care—but even despite those, you worked to establish a healthy, balanced relationship as you navigated this strange stage in your lives.

However, there was someone who had not been quite so fond of this new development. You had attended meetings with the Heaven Embassy for many years as a favor to Lucifer, his absence becoming common after his separation from Lilith, but you could still remember locking eyes with the first man as you entered the room, dropping the chicken drum in his hands as his mouth widen agape.

“Hot damn.”

His flirtatious and oftentimes self-centered advances didn’t fly past your head like you wished they would. It seemed despite having thousands of years under his belt, he was unable to learn any kind of manners, but he had been the original sexist prick. And for his status as a divine man, he fucked around a lot. You didn’t doubt that was due to his own insecurities about both of his wives preferring someone else’s dick over his.

Once you and Lucifer had started dating, you happened to make the mistake of slipping that information to Adam in the hopes that he would back off, but it only seemed to provide him a challenge as his flirtations increased tenfold. From then on, your meetings no longer consisted of the same old information surrounding the exterminations; rather, they were him pointing out the many sexual accolades that he had roped under his belt and the way that apparently made him better than Lucifer—his favorite line was always that “that snake must have a little snake.”

Your disdain was obvious, repeating over and over for him to shut his mouth, but he would only smirk, taking your response as a sign that he had struck a nerve and that it was an opportunity to dig deeper. You decided to take over all the meetings with the embassy, keeping Lucifer away from the lecherous banter of the man, no matter the discomfort that formed in your gut from his unabashed perverseness and the predatory stares at your body.

“Come onnnn, babe,” Adam whined, in the middle of biting the meat off a chicken bone.

You shot him a look. “I’m not your babe, Adam.”

“Babe.” If you were able to reach over and strangle him, you would’ve. That was probably the reason the coward used a hologram instead of coming here himself. “A guy like that couldn’t possibly please you the way I could.”

You massaged your nose bridge, pointedly ignoring the flicker of his eyes from your face to your chest, unable to maintain stable eye contact. “Can we just get on with the meeting?”

“You know I’m right, but I’ll let you off the hook for now.”

You groaned, slamming your head onto the table.

From years onward, his nerve only increased, but he had never shown his bloodlust to you before until the exorcist army descended from the heavens to wreak chaos and death upon the doorstep of Lucifer’s only child, Charlie. You and the ever-so-optimistic princess of Hell developed quite a soft spot for one another, which wasn’t difficult since you had already been considered family in centuries past. The title of your romantic relationship with her father initially came with questions and a couple of awkward moments, but it wouldn’t stop either of you from growing a deeper friendship and understanding, walking through the process together. And it definitely didn’t stop you from defending the girl you had seen for years as a pseudo-daughter, along with her noble ambitions.

“Charlie!” you yelled, knocking Adam away from her as he attempted to strangle her. Charlie sputtered, holding her throat with a pained cough, and you raised a steady hand to her back, helping her rise to her feet. You gave her a once-over, relieved to find that she had no substantial wounds besides a couple of cuts and bruises.

You sighed, cupping her rosy cheeks. “Thank goodness you’re alright. Sorry for being so late. Your father will be here any moment.”

Her formerly desolate expression quickly changed into a beaming smile, eyes glimmering with revitalized determination. “Good! We need all the help we can get.”

However, the moment was cut short by the overexaggerated breaths of a particular man, Adam wobbling to his feet as he cradled his bruised ribs, which you didn’t doubt had been cracked in the impact. It was hard not to smile as he struggled to stand, a wave of retribution twitching through your fingertips.

“You bitch,” he groaned between shallow gasps, though his voice drifted into a humorous lilt. “You know, I’m all for feisty women, but this shit’s a bit extreme, don’tcha think, babe?”

“I am not your babe, Adam.”

You cringed at the moan that left his lips, knowing it was not from the pain of his bruises. “God damn, I love it when you say my name.” He chuckled. “It’d be better if you screamed it.”

“You couldn’t have been that good if both your wives left you for someone else,” you muttered, swallowing your bodily urge to vomit as you rubbed the burgeoning headache coursing through your temples.

His expression drained of any warmth or humor, only leaving behind the rotted, sinful corpse of a man that he pretended not to be. “What the fuck did you say to me, bitch?”

“Hmmm,” you hummed, rolling your eyes. “Did I strike a nerve there?”

His mouth contorted into a snarl. “You know, the only reason that snake keeps your ass around is because he needs a couple of assets,” he barked, curving his hands to gesture toward your curves. “To distract him!”

“Hey! Don’t talk about him—”

He cut you off, his imposing figure towering over you. “You’re only a convenience. A pretty face and a hole to fuck.”

You gasped, but he didn’t let you speak, a smirk curling up on his disgusting face. “You don’t mean anything to him, hun,” he sneered, his voice sickeningly sweet as he grabbed your chin, craning your neck at a muscle-aching angle to stare into your eyes. “You had a chance at heaven, slut. A chance to be with me. And you fuckin’ blew it—!”

He didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence, a bone-crunching punch tunneling into his face, his body cast off the hotel, which rocked under the aftershock, before it started to crumble like a deck of cards. With no time to waste, you and Charlie haphazardly jumped from shrapnel piece to shrapnel piece, able to land on the ground with barely a tumble as it collapsed into your foundation. The moment would’ve been devastating if your focus hadn’t been pinpointed elsewhere, the screams of a dying man drawing everyone to the impact pit.

“You have a lot of fuckin’ nerve,” a low voice scowled, sweltering steam blocking everyone’s vision away from the pair until it evaporated into the air, and that was when you spotted him. His voice was barely recognizable. The duplicated tones and whispers surrounding each word made him unidentifiable. But you knew who it was; those familiar sets of wings and the eyes of his tailcoat were clues enough. You hadn’t seen him take this form in decades, centuries even—he had no use for it, and to go to such an extreme was unlike him. He was shaking more than ever before; his fists balled up Adam’s collar as he pinned him to the ground.

“Intruding on my fuckin’ realm. Hurting my daughter.” And with each offense, another blow was added to the first man’s face, which looked more like roadkill than a former human with each malefaction. “Harassing and insulting my future wife!”

“Don’t you mean your little whore?” Adam managed to utter, that cocky tone still persistent.

But that was a terrible mistake.

Lucifer did not respond to his comment, not at all. Instead, he paused, finding himself unprepared for the sheer audacity of the man underneath him, a man only clinging to life through recesses of holy power and spite. To the unsuspecting bystander, it would seem the king had calmed himself down, but instead, an inferno blazed between his fingertips, his form threatening to tear with the amount of heavenly light that he balanced on his palms. The ire of his many eyes looked upon Adam, and they saw to it that his judgment day had come early.

“Die.”

“Dad!”

Luck seemed to have Adam’s back as Charlie intervened, one of the few people who could ever draw her father out of such an irate warpath. However, it was only after a moment of contemplation from Lucifer, whose eyes stared at Adam, his face unreadable as his fingers twitched before he cracked a wicked smirk.

“How’s mercy feel, bitch?”

The next moments were a blur, though those eyes had turned towards you instead, not with the anger they had towards Adam, but of sheer contemplation—not that you paid attention to them, watching Adam’s death unfold in an ironically anti-climatic sort of way. You would’ve felt bad if your mind didn’t remedy the guilt in your gut with memories of your several encounters, most of which were not PG-13. The rest of the staff and residents gathered their bearings, joining to work on rebuilding the hotel, but you did not have the strength to. Instead, you took a moment for yourself, thoughts toiling through your head as they often did, not understanding the icky, nauseous feeling pooling at the bottom of your stomach.

You flinched at the brush of a hand that rested on your shoulder, only to find that it had been Lucifer, his brow furrowed in that same contemplative expression. And much like those times alone in the estate decades prior, a patient silence persisted as he sat next to you, gauging each touch as he pulled you closer, allowing your limp body to lean into his.

“You know none of what that asshole said is true, right?”

Is that what you had been so concerned about? You couldn’t tell. Your thoughts surrounding your relationship, especially in the context of his former love, had always been indecipherable, even to yourself. His question brought a small beam of clarity into the shadowed pits of your darkest thoughts, but it wasn’t the time to talk about it. Not now, at least.

“Yeah, I know.” Your voice was more shaken than you wanted it to come out, but he understood the underlying message. He could tell it wasn’t the truth, not entirely, and that the roots of your insecurities weren’t something to be remedied through a singular conversation. But it was a start. He intertwined your fingers, caressing the bare area of your ring finger.

“I wish you would’ve told me,” he spoke, his voice soft. “I would never have let you go to those meetings.”

You stayed staring out into the distance. “It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

However, he believed differently, tilting your chin as he cupped your face, much more loving compared to the hands that had grabbed you prior. And his eyes, ones that had been filled with hatred, now glinted in sharp concern. “But it is a big deal. That’s sexual harassment.”

“You were going through so much,” you replied. “It was just one additional thing I didn’t want you to deal with. Another burden on your back.”

“(Name),” he said, voice stern.

The gruffness of his uncompromising tone drew your eyes to your hands. “Any insult to you is an insult to me. Always has been, always will be. People don’t get to talk to you like that. It doesn’t matter what shit I’m going through. That doesn’t mean you get to be thrown under the bus.” He cracked a smile. “And anyone who even thinks of treating you less than the perfection you are deserves to be roasted alive. You’re not a burden. You’re priceless.”

“You’re really into those cannibalism metaphors recently,” you quipped, a bit of your reprieve and humor returning back. He laughed, his heart falling into ease, though he recognized the nod towards his disdain for a certain radio demon, his expression contorting in disgust.

“I’m not gonna eat him! Think of how gross that thing would taste. Just awful, bleh—!”

You cut him off with a kiss, making his rosy cheeks redden more. “Thanks, Lu.”

You tried to stand. His arm braced underneath your back, a hand brushing across the sensitive skin of your waist as he hovered above, his lips locked onto yours. You sighed into his mouth as his fingers mapped every beauty mark of your face, only for him to split, panting. His eyes shone with recognizable desperation, but the smirk on his lips told you he was prepped to tease, brushing the stray baby hairs out of your face that had been ruffled in the fray.

“If someone ever bothers you like that again, you tell me. Got it?”

You only sighed. “Lucifer, I can handle my—”

He pressed a kiss to your knuckles, mouth upturned in a cheeky grin at the way it cut you off. “It’s not smart to fight without your shield, now, is it?’

You relented, unable to withhold your bashful grin. “Of course.”

A silence persisted.

“Your future wife, hm?”

“…shit.”

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @little-miss-chaoss

#muse's anthology ‧₊˚ ⋅#f!reader #꒰ა ⎼ [lucifer]#que'd .ᐟ ‧₊˚#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader

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rafeandonlyrafe · 7 months

Text

gamers

words: 800

warnings: vague descriptions of video game violence and gore, established relationship

“is it scary? i don't wanna play if it's scary.” you pout as rafe places the controller into your hand.

“ill protect you, promise.” rafe says, reaching over to flick the lamp on the side table on, that way more than just the light from the tv is illuminating the room.

“fine, but you can't get mad at me if i get your character killed.” you watch as rafe navigates the game easily, opening it up to the character customization screen, just doing default settings for himself.

“oh my god, im gonna make my girl look so cute!” you gush, taking your time to carefully choose her hair and outfit, even though none of the options are stylish, you create the best look you can out of the post apocalyptic clothing choices.

rafe doesn't care that he has to sit and wait for you to perfect your character, not when he finally got you to agree to play with him.

“okay, done.” you nod as you choose a pair of pink sneakers, practical but still cute. “so what's this game all about? just running from zombies?”

“basically.” rafe says with a light chuckle. “we gotta get to the safe house for this round. just follow me, gonna pick up some weapons.”

you pick up the hang of the controls easily, concentrating on the tv as rafe drops a knife and gun for character to use to protect yourself just in case.

“this isn't so bad.” you hum, pausing to admire the scenery in the background of the game, mountain peaks poking up into the sky. “where are all the zombies?”

“they give you a few minutes to get weapons before the storms start.” rafe says, eyes scanning the screen as you head into a building, rafe knows there's med packs in there that he will need when he sustains damage keeping your character safe.

“storms? that sounds scary rafe.” you scooch so you’re closer to your boyfriend. “and it's getting dark.”

it's already dark outside your actual window, but you can tell that it's getting darker in the game as well, the sun setting as you follow rafe down the desolate street, crashed cars and trash strewn about just like if it was a real apocalypse.

“here they come!” rafe warns, clicking the buttons quickly as his character shoots at the zombies moving slowly towards you. your eyes widen upon seeing the gore, cringing and turning to hide your face in rafes shoulder once your character is hidden behind a stopped car.

“i don't like this rafey!” you whine once the gunfire stops, peeking up to see a literal pile of dead zombies. “it's scary.”

“i know, but i kept you safe, didn't i? we are almost done with the first level, just gotta get to the safe house then we can take a break, okay?” rafe offers, keeping his eyes on the screen but turning his head to press a kiss to your cheek.

“fine.” you groan. you like playing games with rafe, but your preference is him watching you dress your sims or decorate their houses after using a cheat to get them more money, only wanting your sims to have the best furniture.

you navigate your character to follow him down the sidewalk, occasionally stopping to kill the zombies. you even manage to shoot a couple.

“wait, baby, be careful.” rafe warns. “dont go that way.”

but his warning comes too late as a zombie jumps out of a dumpster that you’re standing directly next to, making you scream as it takes up your entire screen, not just attacking your character but also jumpscaring you.

“i got you, hold on.” rafe is pressing the sprint button as hard as he can, as if that can somehow make his character get to you faster. rafe manages to kill the zombie before it has the chance to bite you.

your chest is heaving up and down like you were the one to get attacked. “come on, the safe house is just around the corner.” rafe wraps an arm around your shoulder, using one hand on the controller until you’re both behind the barbed wire fence, the game switching to a cutscene.

“i hate this.” you look to rafe with a pout on your face. “can we play stardew valley instead? please?”

rafe sighs. he should have known better than having you play with him. you are extremely adverse to any sort of shooting game. “yeah, sure.” rafe saves his progress, just in case he can convince you to play with him again before switching to stardew valley and handing you the main controller.

“yesss, thank you.” you smile, pressing a kiss to rafes cheek as your character wakes up. “you’re the best boyfriend ever.”

“you just say that because you need me to go into the mines for you.” rafe says with a laugh.

“well, its scary!”

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forever--darling · 2 years

Text

na’viyä hapxì — one of the people | neteyam x avatar!reader

summary: you have your ceremony to become apart of the clan after finally telling kiri everything that's been going on. neteyam is forced to deal with his feelings as he realizes he might be losing you to someone else.

pairings: neteyam x avatar!reader

word count: 11.9k (I have no self-control at this point. seriously I still have a part or two left to write)

warnings/notes: i am so sorry, slow burn continues, swearing, major angst, fighting, mention of blood, mention of sky people, forest destruction, confrontation of feelings, a smidge of fluff but not much, one step closer to the end

series masterlist | one of us: part five | requests are currently open for now

This was supposed to be the start of your new life but all you could think about at that second was how Lo’ak was gripping your face and saying all of the things that somehow left the opposite feeling in your stomach than it should have. Maybe because it was Lo’ak saying it or maybe it was the fact that he was admitting that he would settle for you. It made you cringe, the wording, the confession that he would rather settle for you than anyone else. It made you want to completely claw at the insides of your brain, hoping that if desperate enough and boiling with an unmistakable rage, you could rip the memory free from your mind.

No one should ever want to settle for anyone and it left you trying to swallow the knot inside your throat. Even if it had come from a good place with the intention to give two lonely people the possibility of a future, the delivery was cruel. To top it off, you were late, the sun had completely set over the mountain, leaving the sky in total darkness. The freckles upon Lo’ak’s nose and forehead were glowing, taking your attention, appearing similar to the stars above as his once sun-kissed eyes lazily trace your face.

That’s all you could think about as your Ikran landed in the base of the village, his landing next to yours a second later. His eyes were too much like his brother's and it was grueling. If you focused on them long enough, it was like it was Neteyam there instead of Lo'ak. But then you were reminded of the look in them, something unmatched and desolate. There was a certain glint within his olive-green irises that was missing as if when he stared down at you there was an emptiness deep within the confines and walls of his chest.

As soon as your feet landed on the ground, you were desperate to escape, an appalling pull in your stomach as you took off towards the center of the village. You felt the pounding in your head ultimately increase as all air was pulled from your lungs at the sight of the village. So many people. The whole clan in fact gathered, waiting. Waiting for you. Deep breath in. Then out.

It was nauseating how many people were there and almost annoying how close you could feel Lo'ak walking behind you. As if his presence was trying to remind you of his words all over again. His words felt like they were squeezing your heart in its palm sickeningly watching as the organ withered in its grip.

Approaching the large old tree that hovered over the village almost like Home Tree once did, your steps faltered as you found Kiri standing outside, her arms crossed over her chest and toe-tapping against the dirt. Your steps increased, desperation forming for her to see her brother lurching on your back and your sanity and remove him instantly.

When her eyes met yours, she was pushing herself up off the side of the tree and hurried towards you in slight disbelief but then when she found Lo’ak behind you, she could only roll her eyes, “Why am I not surprised?”

“Hi, Kiri,” Lo’ak replied sweetly, waving his hand with a chester-like grin on his face.

“Oh shut it, I should have known she wouldn’t have been late to her own ceremony unless someone else was involved,” she shot daggers at her brother and wondered how much it would take for him to collapse overcome by his sister's indisputable irritation.

Kiri's hand tightly took a hold of your arm beginning to lead you into the hollowed-out tree, the fragrance of oak and amber brought a tickle to the base of your nose, “And you, we have to start getting you ready.”

“Oh relax, we made it didn’t we?"

Lo'ak's tone sliced through the air and you felt the disbelief warp around your insides and tighten. They felt as if they were boiling, hot from his obliviousness to the situation. Because even if he was trying to do something sweet, his reasoning behind it all was so wrong. You decided to ignore him and his sister seemed to do the same as she began to fiddle with the ends of your hair. His stare was just as empty as it had been the hour before

You looked away, instead hoping to find solace or an ounce of reassurance in your surroundings, within the tree filled with candles, tapestries, beads, everything that could be certified as sacred. You had never been inside before and you found yourself admiring it rather than his blank stare.

Hearing the way his mouth parted like a gaping fish in water, you felt your shoulders stiffen. Out of fear that he was about to spill the soul-wrenching words you had yet to even process yourself. The last thing you could deal with was him spouting them out proudly like an idiot to someone else as if he had already claimed you.

Luckily, before he could say anything or reveal the sour secrets of your life, his voice shrunk back into his throat and his ears flattened softly at something else entirely. A chuckle verberated from your lips as you peered over to find the exact cause of Lo'ak's silence.

His father. Jake Sully stood near the doorway, his hands balanced on his hips, dressed as if displaying power was his only goal on this planet. A look filled his eye that you had come to know extremely well as if he was forcefully trying to draw everyone's attention and completely intimidate his youngest son.

“Hey Dad,” Lo’ak waved timidly, gulping as Jake approached him and firmly took a hold of his shoulder.

“Outside, now,” Jake commanded, voice cutting through the room, leaving a silence that was deafening. He couldn't look away from Lo'ak with an undermined idea that the teenager would have vanished from his sight if he did. Not sparing anyone a glance, he dragged Lo'ak out of the room.

Kiri acting as if it hadn't happened began to undo the braids in your hair. With the two of you left alone, you had a feeling her silence was only temporary. With her fingers loosening around the third one, you felt her grip disappear. You sighed, somehow guilt of your own crawling up out of your throat even though you weren’t entirely sure what you were guilty of.

The possibilities could have been endless at that point. Guilt had formed because of too many far-fetched reasons that were tightly wound up in your head. Could it have appeared, because you were spending more time with your best friend's brothers rather than giving her a second of your time? Or was it because of the unmistakable fear of the reality outside of your Pandora bubble — the ignored sickness of your human body? Or worst of all could this guilt eating away at you be from the less-than-innocent desire that had taken over you for her older brother — the one man you knew you could never have?

“Kiri, whatever it is just ask?” you said suddenly, taking in a deep breath, “Please.”

She continued with your hair but this time let her thoughts fall freely off her tongue, “What was that all about? Showing up late to your own ceremony? And with Lo’ak. Really?”

You sighed, the frustration was evident in your voice, and somehow you found yourself nervous to tell her of the conversation that you had had with him, “It was nothing out of the ordinary.”

“So, he was just trying to flirt with you. That’s all it was?” she asked, cautiously, her fingers carding through your hair gently unable to look away from the way your thumbs were fiddling with one another in your lap, “I thought you were immune to his advances. You haven’t fallen for it have you?”

Your answer was without hesitation, “Of course not.”

“Then what is going on?” Kiri’s hands suddenly dropped from your hair and turned you around to face her. It was as if she could hear through Eywa that something was plaguing your heart. Like something had been affecting you for a while and she just hadn’t seen any of the signs. “Look, I know my brothers have been occupying all of your time lately, but that doesn’t mean I still don’t care about you. And if something is bothering you, I want to be able to help.”

Taking in a deep breath, you exhaled, gold eyes suddenly meeting hers with a certain unsureness laced within yours. Your hands were almost shaking as every anxiety you thought you had shoved far away seemed to resurface.

She suddenly took both of your hands in hers, eyes wide and lips curled softly into a small smile, her expression reflecting comfort back at you, “Y/N, just tell me.”

“Tonight,” your voice cracked and you cleared your throat as everything came racing back to you, “After we had been flying, we stopped on this mountain and… Lo’ak, he asked me if I wanted to be his mate.”

Her mouth parted in shock, a small noise of disapproval seemed to fall from them as her eyes widened even further, “He what?”

“He asked me to—”

“Yes, I heard you the first time,” she cut you off, her mouth closing and then dropping open again, “But he is too young to even be…”

As her voice trailed off, you nodded agreeing with her words. Lo’ak was only seventeen and Neytiri and Jake had made it perfectly clear to their children that they advised them to wait until they were eighteen before making plans. Wait until they decided on a mate, plus in Lo’ak’s case, he wasn’t sure if the decision was even his. If Neteyam didn’t have the choice, why would he? Sure, for his older brother Olo’eyktan was at stake but their parents’ decision was safer in their eyes than letting their young adult sons make the choice for themselves. He had automatically assumed that if Neteyam wouldn’t have the option neither would he.

“And tonight he asked you to…”

All breath left her again and her shock was smacked across her face displaying perfectly how you had felt too when it had happened. You nodded again, “Yes.”

“But wait,” she squeezed your hands, “He knows better. We all know that our mother has clearly stated that it isn’t allowed, at least not while you are still a dream walker. Why would he even… Y/N?”

You watched slowly as the confusion had overtaken her face and just as quickly left as she spoke out loud, trying to wrap her head around this occurrence. Within a matter of seconds, she realized that Lo’ak would not have openly asked you this unless there was a way this would be allowed. She knew her brother and despite him having broken many rules in the past, she also knew that for something this serious he would be more considerate. In fact something as serious as mates, he would not decide rationally.

“What would lead Lo’ak to ask this?”

“Maybe the fact that,” your voice was unsteady, pausing just as the truth was tiptoeing across your tongue, “He knew I went and visited Mo’at. And that I asked her about the consciousness transfer.”

“You did what?” her voice had hardened, turning cold as her hands had seemed to slip out of yours possibly out of shock, disappointment, or both. The exact reaction you were expecting. “Y/N!”

She shook her head, the fear of one of two outcomes appearing in her mind. You do the ritual and somehow pass through Eywa's eyes and be reborn or you do the ritual and have your presence accepted to be with The Great Mother forever. It was the latter that filled Kiri with the worst possible fear. However, this wasn't the first time this situation had crossed her mind — you admitting that you wanted to do the consciousness transfer to become one of them.

It was a possibility that had been living in her mind far longer than anyone could realize. Since the moment she had first seen you in your avatar body. It was the glimmer in your eye, this type of glow that seemed to surround you that none of them had ever seen before. It was there that very first night; in your smile, your clumsy steps, eyes constantly searching to absorb every part of the forest you saw. As you spent more time in the forest, in the village, with her people, with Neteyam, Kiri realized that the glow around your head only seemed to increase. She was afraid that this could happen, but she never thought it would. Almost as if she relied on your intelligence and common sense to distract you from the alluring double life you were currently living.

“What were you thinking?” Kiri found her voice, and the betrayal and pain heard in it seemed to crack not only your spirits but a part of your soul, “Y/N, you know how dangerous the transfer is and how rarely it even is successful. Eywa is very careful when it comes to requests and she is far more complex than you realize.”

“I know Kiri,” you admitted, bowing your head as if you were a child being scolded.

“Really? Because I think if you truly understood that. If Neteyam had made any of it perfectly clear to you, or if you had listened to anything we’ve been telling you for the last seven years you wouldn’t have put in that request to Mo’at.”

“No, Kiri, you don’t understand. It didn’t matter what you or anyone else said to me, I still would have gone to Mo’at and requested the transfer ritual.”

“Why?” her brows knitted together, the word sounded so spiteful on her tongue and it was foreign in her own ears.

She had never talked this way to anyone, let alone you, her best friend all throughout childhood. Somehow though she knew kindness was sometimes for the weak of heart and her feelings in that moment were completely justified. Led by the thought of possibly losing you had activated every nerve in her body to act out in a fight or flight response and with that came anger and the need to be vitriolic to you.

You sighed, taking a step back from her as your own arms found a place wrapped around your waist, a conditioned action from your childhood that had transferred even into your avatar body. You felt the tears begin to cloud your eyes, and you silently cursed yourself for letting this get to you during a time that was supposed to be celebratory.

Finally, meeting her eyes again, you broke down your walls and let the feelings you had been trying to make sense of for far too long go, “I can’t go on like this forever. Can’t you see? How one of these days when either the technology fails or our resources finally diminish themselves, I won’t be able to keep doing this. My life will alter completely.”

As you paused, behind your eyes it was like you had bonded back to your human body. A pale body being pumped full of liquid solutions with dullness to its eyes. All you could feel was weakness — the only thing that was left within it. “Not to mention the stress from the link pod would become too much for my body. I would have to give up one, and I prefer that it wouldn’t be this one.”

Her hands reached out and took a hold of your elbows, reasoning the only thing she could think to do to calm you down or to better change your mind. She smiled softly but it was laced with a kind of grief you hadn’t seen before. “Y/N, when and if that day comes, we can get you readjusted. We can teach you the ways to handle the forest in your human body and get enough oxygen supply for you. Spider can help—”

“I don’t want Spider’s help,” you snapped, fangs barring for a moment before you recoiled into yourself all emotions dropping from your face, “You don’t get it, Kiri. What I have outside of this village, outside of this body is not a life. I sit around day after day looking out of a glass box at a world that is right in front of me. A world I will never be able to have, not like this, not like I have now. That isn’t living and I am running out of time. Please, try to understand. There isn’t enough time to try and make up for it with my human body.”

“Y/N,” Kiri’s grip on your elbows tightened, her eyes dancing across your face trying to decipher the meaning of your words as all that she could hear ringing in her ears was that you didn’t have the time.

Before she could spend too long on it though, you were speaking again with a deflated look appearing on your face, “But you don’t have to worry because clearly, Eywa does not see me as one that is worthy. Mo’at turned down the request. And you won’t have to worry about me and Lo’ak either because you and I both know I could never go through with it.”

Though relief flooded her system, the brokenness of your expression brought out other feelings in her. Mostly of sadness as she watched how quickly that glow you had was diminishing into nothing but a dull perspective on life. That rare magic that seemed to fill you, that most people couldn’t even acknowledge as being real or possible, was slowly being ripped out of you.

She took a deep breath, feeling your disappointment reverberating off of your very being. Somehow as she processed your words, she couldn’t help but think that it wasn't entirely true. Eywa’s heart beats loudly in her ears and often it’s like her soul can hear the Great Mother’s voice. Kiri had quickly learned what it meant for Eywa to not accept something or to not agree with something — it didn’t feel like this.

“You could never go through with it because of the request being denied?” Kiri finally asked, deterring the conversation to Lo’ak and what he had asked you. The very thing he should have never asked you in the first place.

As she asked it though, you became silent, your hands gaining your attention rather quickly. Within that moment, where you stared down at your ten fingers that matched the two Sully children's, you realized that even if the transfer request had been accepted by Eywa and approved by Mo’at, that wasn’t why you couldn’t go through it. Even if you became fully Na’vi, you knew fully in your heart that you couldn’t accept Lo’ak’s offer to settle. It was never about the transfer ritual at all, but rather about someone.

“Or you could never go through with it because of Neteyam?” Kiri asked, and your eyes flickered up as if she had read your mind or, better, your silence.

Brows furrowing together in confusion, your eyes widened slightly in surprise, “How did you—”

“You really think no one has noticed, Y/N?” she smiled, a small laugh escaping as her hand reached up to brush the braids in your face, which she still had to undo, behind your ear, “It’s like the whole world has tilted on its axis and you act as if it hasn’t. It’s all there in front of us; the stolen glances, how his previous frustration has changed into protectiveness, him sneaking out every night to see you even when he spent most of the day with you, the light touches here and there that happen so quick like a blink of an eye, the way you look at him. I can keep going, there’s plenty more.”

Your head tilted down, face flushing completely to a dark hue and it was all the confirmation she needed. Meeting her soft smile, you reached up to take her hand in yours, remorse the only way to describe you, “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“Of course not,” Kiri chuckled, her hand squeezing yours, “No one ever does. It’s cute though, you and Neteyam.”

You shook your head then denying her words, her acknowledgment of your feelings, “No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

She watched as the glow seemed to dull even further as your broken expression met hers, voice soft as you spoke, “There can never be a me and Neteyam. You know that, Kiri. He is the future Olo’eyktan and there is a plan for his life. One where his mate will be chosen for him. It’s a life that I can’t be a part of.”

Her expression dropped, a smile falling from her lips as her hand cradled your face softly fully preparing herself to wipe the tears from your face. Her mouth parted as if she was about to say something, comfort you maybe, deny your claim, or worse accept that it was the truth and what would inevitably happen. You would never know though as her eyes flickered up behind you, something catching her eye. Her hands fell from your frame and her soft smile returned.

Confused, you watched as she nodded in the direction behind you, your name falling off her tongue as if it was a sweet melody, “Y/N.”

Cautiously, you turned around, worried that someone had somehow and someway heard what you had said, all of it including the confession about the future Olo’eyktan. You felt your anxiety slip away into the night as you found the man himself entering the tree, his eyes only set on you.

Then a new kind of anxiety formed, and your heart rate sped up, as you took him in. He was already dressed for the ceremony with the most extravagant necklaces, arm bands, and clothing just as his father had been. Hair freshly braided, it swung from side to side as he stalked forward, a look in his eye you couldn’t entirely unravel. He was slightly out of breath as if he had been running, a thin layer of sweat gathering across his shoulders and the side of his face.

Kiri took a small step back as Neteyam stopped in front of you, his hands instantly reaching out to take your arms. His palms were rough against your skin as he began to scan you from head to head, a tight frown stitched onto his face paired with his eyebrows knitted together.

His gold eyes could even be described as scary and you wondered if you had gotten a sliver of the past. If the old Neteyam was standing in front of you and was about to lecture you for being late to your own ceremony. Instead, when his golden gaze found yours again, they softened for a millisecond and the look was gone again just as quickly.

“I am going to kill him,” Neteyam growled under his breath, voice deep enough to reach inside of you and hollow out your entire body of any other feelings that once resided there. Suddenly, all you could think about was him and the way he was holding you.

An arm's length away, he continued to scan your body for any markings or injuries that hadn’t been there before. You realized then that this look on his face, this intensity and anger wasn’t towards you for being late, but towards his younger brother, who was supposed to be responsible for you. Lo’ak was the reason behind this reaction and clearly, the sight of his younger brother being scolded by his father near their tent had sent him into a rage. “Are you okay?”

Your insides fluttered at the way his tone had shifted completely in a matter of seconds. This was a side of him you felt you had never seen before, and it was like that paired with the way you were staring up at him like a lovesick puppy had been enough to prove to Kiri that everything she had said was completely true.

“Yes, I am fine.”

Your words had broken his spell and his stare hardened again, his anger towards his brother returning full-fledge, “How could he be so stupid? He knew what time the ceremony was and he kept you out there until dark anyway. It was completely selfish. And if something happened…”

His voice had trailed off as if he couldn’t even think about it, let alone say it. He was playing a dangerous game with your heart, evident in the way the strings seemed to be getting pulled with everything he did or say. You reached out, your hands connecting with his chest, and he felt all air get pushed out from the sudden contraction of his diaphragm due to the warm touch.

“Neteyam, I am fine, okay? And Lo'ak didn't mean any harm by it.”

“Yeah, just having fun right? Uh, I shouldn’t have let him go. It should have been me up there with you. I know better than letting him go off without someone who is responsible. It’s like he doesn’t have a conscious when he flies and he's seventeen for fucks sake."

“Stop. Okay, this is not your fault, Lo’ak is his own person who makes his own decisions. There is nothing to even stress about because we’re fine. We are both fine,” you said, thinking carefully about your next words, “You know how it is. You get up there, and suddenly you’re flying for hours—”

“And never want to come down, I know,” he finished your thought.

“You know, you can be too hard on him sometimes,” you said, and at your words, you felt him pull back, not only from you defending Lo'ak but at the way you had sounded so much like his mother talking to his father.

He couldn't respond but instead, let his worry fade slightly. However, you watched as the previous panicked look still remained in his eyes and you realized then that this was more than just a reaction to you being out later than expected. There was more to his response and anger towards his younger brother than just making him late for your ceremony. The way he was still gripping you in his hands was all the confirmation you needed.

“What is it?”

His ears perked up at your question, watching as your hands fell from his chest. The concern soon filled your eyes too. Cautiously, you asked again, “What’s going on?”

He then glanced around you at his sister, who was staring at him expectantly. Kiri stepped forward and raised a brow in his direction, “Neteyam?”

With your head tilted up at him, you pushed every flutter, every thrilling feeling he stirred in you away. That's how scared you got when you looked at the expression on his face and the paling of his skin. You watched as his expression set in and let his guard down — that facade of being the perfect little soldier disappeared and all you had staring back at you was a worried young man.

Before he could respond, footsteps caught all of your attention. Neytiri appeared just as furious as Neteyam had moments ago. Behind her, Tuk followed oblivious to all the feelings that were being thrown around the room. At the sight of them, his hands dropped from your arms and he took a step back putting distance between the two of you. You ignored how the simple action played with your feelings because you knew you would have to get used to it — the lack of his physical touch. You were brought back out of your daze, your eyes finally leaving the side of Neteyam’s face as you felt a more petite body collide with yours.

Tuk was hugging you and hesitantly, you wrapped your arms around her. It was the only warm feeling left you could actively acknowledge. Neytiri let out a breath of relief at the sight of you, “Oh Great Mother, you’re here, finally.”

She walked straight by her son who now found the ground much more interesting to look at than you. His walls were back up just like that as the strong soldier he was supposed to be and you all were forced to revert your attention to the importance at hand; your ceremony. His silence was so loud though, it was the only thing that could hold your attention.

“I am sorry Neytiri to have kept you all waiting.”

“Shush,” she stepped forward, hand brushing across your shoulder. She hissed then underneath her breath, her ears flattening slightly, “I pray for the strength that I will not pluck the eyeballs out of my youngest son.”

The mention of Lo’ak had your shoulders dropping, the guilt beginning to swallow you that they once again put all the blame on him. As if you were nothing but an innocent child who didn’t know any better, they looked to him expectantly — all of their protectiveness of you overshadowing the poor treatment they were giving him. Even if he had kept you out far later than he should have, he was unworthy of the treatment they were giving him, Toruk Makto’s son or not.

“We need to start getting you ready,” she said then, moving to continue what Kiri had already started with your hair. Her fingers quickly but gently began to undo the remaining braids. Her eyes then flickered up to her oldest son who stood nearby stealing glances at you.

She raised her eyebrow expectantly at him and as if he was about to leave, her husband came barreling into the room but with no Lo’ak following after him. Instead, the younger boy stood outside, leaning against the opening, arms crossed over his chest, and face pulled into a scowl. Jake hesitated from addressing Neteyam as he saw you standing before his wife, luckily unharmed.

Stepping forward, his large palm ghosted over your cheek, that Olo’eyktan look about him faltering slightly, “You okay?”

Your eyes narrowed and you found yourself glancing from him back to his son. Neteyam was already looking at you, his soft gaze completely hidden in front of his parents. You glanced between the two of them and somehow you just knew. They were all keeping it from you and based on their reactions, whatever it was it couldn’t have been good in the slightest.

“Yes, I am fine,” you said, voice wavering slightly as Jake’s hand dropped from you.

Neytiri continued with your hair and all of the women watched as Jake took Neteyam by the shoulder and guided him a few feet away. They both had lowered their voices but even with his efforts, you all were able to hear every word, “Immediately after the ceremony we go, do you hear me, boy? We can’t waste any more time so as soon as it’s over, we call the Ikrans.”

“Yes, sir,” Neteyam nodded, and you felt your heart spike in your chest.

It seemed Neytiri wasn’t entirely aware of the situation either as her movements slowed down and she looked up at her husband questioningly about what exactly he was ordering their son to do. Her eyes narrowed, and the motherly protectiveness built into her DNA showed. She called out to her husband and the two men became tense at her voice. Slowly they both looked up, hesitant about what they should and shouldn’t say. She only saw this seriousness when Jake began to channel his marine side and she felt her stomach prick nervously at how he stepped forward as if he was going to prepare her.

“What’s going on?”

He sighed, “We’ve gotten word that there are sky people close to the border. Far closer than ever before.”

Neteyam glanced over at you trying to gauge your reaction and you felt your whole body stiffen — out of dread, fear of a reality where maybe this would be the end of your avatar form. If another war was going to break out, there would be no room and no safety for you to keep entering the link pod every day. It would all be over and with you still being very much one of them, one of the sky people, you could get shunned from the village.

Jake stepped forward though and tried to ease her worries, “I’ve gotten word that it’s only a few. There is nothing to worry about yet, okay? After the ceremony, Neteyam and I will gather the Ikrans and go see what’s going on. We will be spotting, nothing else.”

Your mouth parted, unable to stop how you instantly looked at Neteyam. When he caught your eye and your expression, he couldn’t help but look away — away from the fear slapped across your face. Neytiri nodded but a part of her still couldn’t let it go, “If it is only a few can’t you order someone else to do it?”

Jake shook his head, “I need to see this for myself to better assess the situation. It’ll be fine, I promise you.”

“And Lo’ak?” Neytiri asked.

“I talked to him, he knows what he needs to know about the situation. Keep an eye on him though when we leave, I can’t have that boy doing anything else stupid.”

Tuk was still wrapped around your body and you felt the way she turned her head into your stomach, trying so hard to understand everything her parents were saying. Jake glanced down at his youngest daughter and knew he probably shouldn’t have said anything in front of her but it couldn’t wait. To avoid Neytiri worrying about it later or feeling blindsided, he needed to say it and somehow the children being present was just unexpected collateral damage. You hugged her tighter to your form, hands rubbing her back softly.

“It’s getting late,” Jake acknowledged, glancing at Neteyam and then back to his wife.

Neytiri nodded, knowing that with time now more important, she had to turn off everything that worried her — every fear or possibility of the worst occurring. Instead, she pushed it all down away with the pain and the grief where she built her strength. As if it hadn’t been the most terrifying news she had heard in years, she pushed it all down and focused on the moment right in front of them. You and your ceremony. Before anything else, that must be completed first and have all of their attention.

She clicked her tongue in the direction of the exit nodding to the two men and accepting her wish, they turned to leave. Neteyam was hesitant for a moment, his eyes scanning over you one more time before he followed after his father. A look you all had noticed. Neytiri glanced from him to you, brows furrowed for a brief moment. She let it go though, deciding not to think about what it meant. Instead, she released your hair from the last braid and ran her fingers through the soft waves.

Kiri went to gather the newly beaded top she had made for you and Tuk released you to follow after her sister. Neytiri smoothing out your hair moved to face you. As she looked down at you, you couldn’t help but notice that her eyes appeared far more gentle than you would have ever thought they would be when looking at you. As much as you had changed, matured, and begun to see the world differently, so did she.

She had learned to accept you as everyone else had and slowly realized how right her husband had been about everything — you, your past, and the hold you seemed to have on her children after all these years. Your heart was kind and strong and belonged among them more than she had ever realized.

She smiled, “How are you feeling? Ready?”

“Yes,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper as you stared over at the beautiful woman who wasn’t that much taller than you.

It was then that Neytiri realized how grown up you were, almost nineteen with an entire life ahead of you within the village. She took notice of how more and more every day you began to appear less like a girl and more like a woman. Even with you only having the avatar for less than a year, she could see how evident the changes were before you. And it all started and ended with how you saw her and everyone around you, with such clarity and endless love.

“I am nervous,” you whispered then and her smile suddenly widened.

“You have nothing to worry about. Eywa has accepted you among the people and understands your heart more than anyone. She sees you and now you will be one of us for the rest of time. Na’viyä hapxì (one of the people).”

You thought you had known what it would be like, what it would feel like. It was a moment you had been thinking about nonstop from the moment Neytiri had granted you permission to learn the Na’vi ways from her son. You thought you had gone through all the possibilities of how it would play out, what would be said, what you would be wearing, and ultimately how you would feel. None of it could have prepared you. Not in the slightest as no one can really understand what being born twice feels like. Or what that level of acceptance feels like. No one can possibly know until it happens to them.

That is what you realized when you walked out a mere half hour later, your head in the stars and body completely lit with the possibilities of life laid out before you. Dressed in the most carefully crafted purple beaded top, you felt the eyes follow you, taking in the new woven necklaces and the sudden way your hair fell so differently. Instead of tightly pulled together in small braids, it fell softly and in natural waves with the top half pulled back out of your face, a large flower laced into it.

White paint decorated every inch of your skin, done by Neytiri, across your entire face, and down your torso. It brought out the gold in your eyes and drew attention to the gentle curve of your lips. A songchord hung from a thin band tightly wrapped around your waist and everyone glanced curiously at the Waytelem and how proudly you wore it. It held very few beads, but the newest sage green hollowed-out bead was the most noticeable.

The clan clumped together in a crowd watching on as the young woman slowly approached the Sully family that stood proudly in front of everyone, all beside Jake Sully the Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya. They and everyone else couldn’t deny the beauty that was brought out of a person walking with their own heart clasped openly in their hands. At that moment you were no longer an alien to ogle at. The extra finger on both hands didn’t hold any other significance, and you were no longer a sky person to them. Instead, you were just a young woman, a young Na’vi looking to be given a place among the people.

The people began to collapse around you, quiet prayers falling from their lips as Jake stepped towards you, dressed as the king he was destined to be. The Sully family followed, surrounding you; Neteyam on one side and Neytiri on the other. Beside her, Mo’at with Kiri, Tuk, and Lo’ak standing behind you. Your eyes flickered to the side to find Neteyam, his eyes already staring straight at you, shining proudly.

Jake raised his hands up in the air, all attention on him. A smile spread widely across your face as for a moment he was brought back to his ceremony, his own rebirth before the Omatikaya. He knew how you felt, he knew how overwhelming and wonderful it was to be seen differently than the five-fingered alien that stumbled across the village.

He peered into your eyes and fully understood every emotion that flickered within your eyes, “Ngenga ‘ite Omatikayaä luyu set. Na’viyä luyu hapxì (You are now a daughter of the Omaticaya. You are part of The People).”

His hands then fell to your shoulders. Then slowly, following their Olo’eyktan you felt hands appear across your side and along your back — all starting with the feeling of Neteyam’s pressing along your chest, right where your heart was. He felt the way it picked up in your chest and as you glanced up at him, you found him smiling.

Neytiri and Mo’at’s hands were felt across your side and Lo’ak and Kiri’s palms were pressed firmly along your back with Tuk claiming your stomach. From there the rest of the clan followed. People of the village grabbed onto the shoulders of whoever was standing in front of them and just as Kiri had described, a circle had formed, of intertwined arms all connected before Eywa with you at the center — the center of the Great Mother’s heart. Closing your eyes, it was like your life had become complete, like every moment spent in your human form had been a sacrifice that would one day lead you to this.

As you opened your eyes, a single tear falling, you met the gaze of Jake Sully, Toruk Makto, Olo’eyktan, past dream walker and you knew then without a doubt, no matter what happened your life was complete.

As soon as the ceremony was over, you were pulled into hugs, arms clasping around your form, laughter and encouraging words whispered in your ears. The second the circle had started to diminish, you felt Kiri practically leap onto your back, her arms winding under your shoulders to pull you back against her chest. You laughed as her head leaned against yours, her joy painting your skin in the form of tears. You felt another frame sneak around her sister, appearing at your side and swiftly wrapping her smaller arms around your torso, not even caring that the white paint was transferring onto her skin. Tuk.

Neytiri remained in the same spot she had been during the ceremony, the corners of her lips lifted up softly as her eyes glossed over, unable to look away from the sight of her children winding themselves around you. She could see then how wrong she had been. How wrong she had been about it all, evident in the way the children cried for you, their hearts so full of love in that moment You had their hearts and in return gave yours back to them.

As the two sisters finally released you from their grasp, you felt a small tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you found Lo’ak bashfully staring at you with a small smile, his eyes hesitantly looking over you. His proposal flashed in your head but seeing the boyish expression on his face, your eyes softened and you reached out to him. His whole body flushed with relief as you stepped closer to him. His arms wrapped around your upper back and pulled you tightly against him. He couldn’t help the happiness he felt at the feeling of your nose pressed along his cheek and you returning his embrace just as firmly.

Even with all of the waves of emotions that were drowning you in every positive feeling you could think of, a hole appeared in your chest. One that suddenly caught your attention over the chatter of voices within your ears. It was like you could still feel where his hands were moments before. His absence was prominent and you couldn’t help but look around frantically, spinning around in the hopes you would find his braided hair or brightly beaded chest guard. It was as if Eywa had whispered in your ear to look for him and everything else that had mattered in the forefront of your mind was gone. No, all you could hear pulsing loudly in your ears was... Neteyam.

Neteyam. Neteyam. Neteyam.

The boy who now could be considered a man had done this for you; had helped you get to this point, had spent countless hours with you telling you every little secret he had within his back pocket about the forest, about the Na’vi, and about Eywa herself. The man who had swept you away without you even realizing it and had captured you with his attractiveness and attentiveness. The future Olo’eyktan who you knew you could never have left an ache in you, one that had altered your very being as dramatic as it sounded. During that time full of celebration and success, all you wished for was to get a glimpse of him.

Your shoulders deflated though as in the swarm of blue, his taller frame was nowhere to be seen. As if he wasn’t even there at all but a figment of your imagination. Glancing around, you realized that Jake Sully was also missing and you knew then that there hadn’t been a moment to waste.

In fact, as soon as you were being pulled into Lo’ak’s embrace, Neteyam was already on top of his Ikran flying off into the night sky beside his father. The only thing occupying his mind was the look on your face when he placed his hands on you during the ceremony.

Just as Jake had stated, the sky people were chipping away at the territory line drawn, marching through in large metal suits carrying guns in their hands. Those who walked bravely on their feet were alive from the oxygen masks pulled tightly across their faces. Others that weren’t holding guns were scanning the area with things Neteyam couldn’t name. But he watched as the machines and glass screens scanned the plants, the ground, and the foliage, all of it searching for traces of either Unobtainium or traces of Na’vi DNA. Either they were fine with. If they didn’t find any, Neteyam watched in horror as they burned whatever was in front of them like it was useless. To them though it was.

Neteyam had witnessed their destructive behavior many times, while he and his brother acted as spotters with their father leading the raids and stealing equipment. There was no empathy, no fairness in the affairs of men, and definitely not in a war. As the strong older brother, he was forced to keep it together for his younger siblings and the people of the clan — that was his burden along with taking on this impossible role. He felt as if Eywa was on their side when the sky people began to retreat the last few years like they were respecting the boundaries. He knew though that they didn’t operate like that and they never had. Their pullback and minor activity allowed the clan to stay in the forest and the village, living as they always wanted. He could see now that they hadn’t pulled back or they had been hiding at all, but rather taking the time to prepare.

Preparing to someday have the technology and the equipment to strike again and have it worth something. It seemed their days of preparing had come to an end and they were ready. Neteyam’s mouth was pulled into a tight line and for a moment his father’s voice droned off — all of the military talk, the orders of strategies, or the terminology that was trying to be passed down from one leader to another didn’t matter anymore. Because from above, for the first time, Neteyam watched his entire world begin to burn before his eyes, and the only sound he could make out was the cries from Eywa herself.

He had gotten back to the village late and it was even later when his father released him from the confines of a long conversation — a conversation he didn’t wish to be a part of. He wasn’t Olo’eyktan yet and even though he had just turned nineteen, no one seemed to see that the warrior before them was still so young. He had duties, and expectations, and just like he had admitted to you all those months ago, he was the protector. The burden installed on a firstborn son as his future was hung up in the stars. He didn’t have time to fall apart.

With that thought, he knew what he did have time for even with the world burning around him — you. Your ceremony, which had seemed so far away for months, had appeared in the blink of an eye. Somehow all of your nights together were behind him. The nights of confessing things he had never thought he could say to another person. Nights where you guys swam in the cool water, soaking in how alive it made you feel. Nights where he had wanted to reach over and hold your hand in his or possibly do something more. All of those suddenly were a part of the past; now that he knew what he knew, he wanted one more.

He saw the lights that were still glowing from the old tree. The thought had crossed his mind that maybe you were there — had decided to wait for him. Left the candles, sat down on a hand-stitched tapestry, and were waiting for him to walk in any moment. He thought about you sitting, bare legs crossed out in front of you, still wearing the hand-crafted beaded top you had been wearing earlier, your soft hair flowing down your back. He thought about your soft lips that would be parted softly in shock when he finally arrived and then instantly lift into a soft smile.

Neteyam wondered what they felt like, how they would fit against his — how they would taste. He wondered how you would taste. Guilt appeared then because this was not the first time he had thought about you this way. In all honesty, it had been going on for months starting at night when he lay awake staring at the ceiling. Then, his thoughts of you changed, starting with your lips, to something less than innocent. He would never admit it to anyone though, not when you were the one on his mind when his hands ended up between his thighs at night.

Somehow it had become normal to him, his hidden affection for you. As well as the desire that filled his body when he thought about you, especially when you looked at him with that pinched expression you usually acquired whenever he was being a jackass. It was wrong of him to do that. It always had been because you were never his and he knew that you never would be. However, it wouldn’t stop him from thinking about it for one last night.

As he stepped into the opening of the tree, he realized that you weren't there at all but it was his two siblings. They were standing close to one another talking under their breaths as if they didn’t want anyone else to hear. Kiri was practically yelling at Lo’ak even with her attempt to whisper, and the tone of her voice felt like a hot knife running across both the boys' skin.

Neteyam approached curiously, not drawing either of their attention. Lo’ak’s arms were crossed over his chest and based on the look in his eye, he was being defensive. That usually meant he had done something he clearly shouldn’t have.

“How could you do this Lo’ak? How could you do this to Y/N?” Kiri snapped for the hundredth time at her brother, a protectiveness over you and a seriousness that she thought he would have understood. A type of feeling she thought they all had for you but clearly, she was wrong because if Lo’ak felt the same, then he wouldn’t have done this. She never sounded this way, this upset.

Neteyam now a few feet from them, watched as Lo’ak raised his hands in the air and let them fall to his sides in annoyance. “To her? Kiri, I am doing this for her."

"Really, are you sure she feels that way?" Kiri sent back.

"It is not that big of a deal. You’re acting as if I did something wrong.”

Her eyes widened and she swore under her breath as her hands tightened at her sides with a sudden inclination to smack her brother across the face. Lo’ak stared at her, waiting for an outburst, or for her to curse him out or worse tell their parents. He waited and tapped his foot obnoxiously.

“Not that big of a deal?” she said then, incredulously, eyes narrowing further, “Lo’ak you asked her to be your mate.”

A second.

The prolonging silence, accompanied by a sweep of denial was the first thing he could feel as the disarming words repeated back in his mind.

Lo’ak you asked her to be your mate. The words felt like an endless pit as they filled Neteyam’s ears, unable to fully register if what he heard was true. All breath had been stolen from his lungs out of disbelief. A disbelief that left him feeling suffocated as his frantic eyes flickered back and forth between his brother and sister.

His hands clenched and unclenched with every second that passed, each becoming more agonizing than the last. The silence was palpable, completely torturous as the words he had never even pondered a day in his life suddenly ripped holes into his body. The shock had taken over his system and like an endless cycle he kept repeating the tormentful sentence in his head and by the third time, he felt the images start to distort before him.

As if he could feel his own cold blood under his touch staining his palms at the sight of you and his younger brother filling his mind. The destruction to his very being. Lo’ak held your hands as he asked you the question that would lead to Neteyam's demise. Lo’ak wrapping his arms around you. Lo’ak kissing you. Lo’ak getting to explore every part of your body that Neteyam had craved for himself like a moth to a flame. Lo’ak mating you. A thought that could only encourage the bullets in his chest to tear and taint what was left of his sanity. You asked her to be your mate.

After the sixth time, the shock seemed to settle in his bones and effortlessly turned to grief. As if the mercy he had begged for was not spared and instead led to his morbid end. Then with a much-delayed reaction, it felt like a kiss of life was bestowed on him. It traveled to his heart in the form of icy water, sending a thousand bolts of electricity through him, telling him to wake up from the bitter daydream.

He was again rewarded with reality perpetuating his mind and brought him back to the sight before him. His sister angrily glared at Lo'ak, who refused to fall honorably under her will and admit that his actions were wrong. It was no longer Neteyam that was in denial but his younger brother.

Then the icy water replaced all of the blood in his body, and a new feeling formed. His eyes twitched, head spiraling with rage, sending his senses into chaos. Unlike all of the times before when he had felt the green monster create feelings of irritation or insecurity, he knew this was something else. No, this was so much more than that.

It was a rage that was felt with every fiber of his being, every nerve of his entire self. That’s how undeniably pissed Neteyam was; like his entire world had crumbled before him and the lone destructor was his brother. His own brother he had spent his whole life being told to protect, taking the blame for because it meant he was doing what was asked of him. All of his life was spent putting up with Lo’ak and sacrificing everything for him. Now, all that was left in Neteyam’s chest was the feeling of complete and utter betrayal. In itself that was the worst rage to have.

“You did what!”

Breaths were stolen as his voice cut through the night's air. His voice sounded so foreign even to himself, so cold, and so desolate of any emotion. With a sharp intake, both siblings turned around.

Kiri stood still as she realized her anger was nothing compared to the future clan leader. To her, it was like a dark shadow had fallen over her brother’s features. He stood, tall, hands tightly bound into fists. She flinched lightly, merely watching as he tilted his head towards Lo’ak. She had never seen Neteyam this angry and she knew that it had been her words that had been the cause of it.

Lo’ak could feel the rage pulsating from his brother’s body, the brother who hadn't thrown a punch at him since they were no older than eight and six years old. His older brother who had always protected him and taken his side no matter what, somehow was no longer there. That Neteyam wasn't there anymore and Lo'ak knew exactly why.

It was you and he knew it because Neteyam wouldn't act like this for just anything or anyone. Lo'ak had known far too well the feelings his older brother harbored for you, secretly of course, because Neteyam could never admit it out loud. It was almost as if you were some secret to keep locked away until nighttime fell. Lo’ak finally knew that the one thing Neteyam suddenly truly wanted, away from everything else he had been given was you. However, the world wasn't set up for people to get what they wanted and Lo'ak couldn't care about Neteyam's feelings.

Because where Neteyam could never have you, he got everything else; the pride from his parents, the praise from the clan, the admiration of all the women in the village, the title of Olo’eyktan, and being described as the headstrong warrior. The older Sully sibling had it all and somehow Lo’ak couldn’t feel bad for what he had done, not when it came to you.

“Oh, look the perfect little soldier has returned,” he said, provokingly, ignoring the way Kiri’s eyes widened at his choice of words.

Neteyam growled under his breath and stepped forward, the anger in his eyes only igniting further, “Really, that’s how you want to go about this right now? Perfect little soldier! Really, Lo'ak?”

Lo’ak’s face twisted, jaw clenching to match his brother’s, “Yes, I think I do.”

Neteyam sighed, one that sounded more dejected than it did angry, “Please don’t tell me that what Kiri says is true. You wouldn’t do this.”

“Except that I did, brother. I asked Y/N to be my mate.”

“Lo’ak,” Kiri warned but he sent a glare her way and suddenly she found herself no longer wanting to intervene.

She shook her head unable to understand what Lo’ak was doing or how he could be saying any of those things — as if his resentment had taken over and his initial awareness of everything else was nowhere to be seen.

Neteyam’s tail swished angrily, aiding in how he kept clenching his fists. His voice was low, scary even, “How could you?”

“How could I? Are you fucking kidding me?” Lo’ak cursed, sarcasm dripping from his voice as you flickered through his mind.

You, Y/N Y/L/N were sweet, strong, and absolutely stunning. You were everything that any man could want and somehow you had gotten yourself all tangled up in a fish line — a fish line that belonged to his brother. A fish line that would never be pulled in. You were falling for Neteyam and Lo'ak couldn’t bare to see it someday destroy you.

Everyone knew about the plan, about Mrs. Neteyam Te Suli Tsyeyk’itan, the soon-to-be Tsahik and he wasn’t about to watch one of his closest friends waste her time pining over someone she could never have. He wasn’t going to let that happen to you, especially if Mo’at reconsidered your transfer request. He wasn’t about to watch you spend the rest of your life alone, hoping his brother would one day come to his senses. Neteyam was full of too much pride for that and he followed the rules far too close to ever go against what is asked of him.

“Neteyam, you will never be able to be with her, do you realize that?”

His body stiffened at Lo’ak’s claim. How he had been called out so effortlessly after months, after half of a year hiding how he felt about you. After spending so much time hiding it because he knew better than anyone how true Lo'ak's words were. In fact, he was reminded of it every day. Future Olo'eyktan, that's all he had ever been and all he would ever be seen as for the rest of his life. Everyone's expectations of him weren't suddenly known to him.

Lo’ak inhaled, voice lowering slightly, “You can't be with her, and I didn’t do this to hurt you, Neteyam. I did this for her. I don’t want her to be alone. I asked her to be my mate because she deserves someone who wants to be with her. Someone who won’t put everything else before her, especially their duties.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Neteyam hissed, voice laced with despair.

“And she at least deserves someone who can admit their feelings for her out loud.”

Even if what Lo'ak said was completely true, Neteyam couldn't listen to him anymore. Instead, he took the time to wonder how Lo’ak had even gotten to the point to ask you this. You were a dream walker. A sky person at night and their mother had firmly set a line, boundaries that clearly stated you shouldn’t be mating with anyone unless you were to become a full Na’vi. His eyes widened then, his thoughts stopping short as he realized.

A full Na’vi.

His face, once twisted in blistering sorrow, now was coiled with anger. Eyes narrowing, they never left Lo’ak's frame, as the question left his mouth like an irrefutable fact. “Why did you ask her now?”

“What do you mean?”

Neteyam took a step closer to his brother, rage the epitome of his being, his protectiveness of you taking priority over everything else, “Mother clearly said that Y/N wasn’t allowed to mate with anyone as long as she was still a dream walker. So tell me, brother, why did you ask her now?”

Lo’ak's eyes fell for a moment, finding interest in the ground, realizing then that the worst was yet to come. As it was the same reason Kiri had been angry with Lo’ak in the first place — it wasn’t because he had asked you to be his mate, it was why he asked you to be his mate. The transfer ritual. The ritual that had the ability to take your life.

“Lo’ak, ‘eyng! (Answer),” Neteyam demanded, already having a suspicion about the answer that would come out of his brother’s mouth. A suspicion of the reasoning behind all of it.

Slowly, Lo’ak lifted his head to look at Neteyam who was full of so much fear it was being expressed as aggression. He shook his head, finally finding the strength to admit it out loud, “Since she went to see Mo’at about a consciousness transfer.”

A second.

Then it was like a bomb went off in Neteyam’s head, a blaring warning of the inevitable end that was soon to come. His ears were ringing and his sight had blurred and at that moment he hadn’t comprehended what he was doing until he had already done it.

The punch had sent Lo’ak barreling back, shock appearing on his face along with a fresh trail of blood falling from his cheek, where the skin had been ripped open. He reached up and let his fingers brush along the cut, hissing out in pain as his older brother stared at him with the coldest look he had ever seen.

Kiri had gasped, “Neteyam!”

“You fucker!” Neteyam mumbled out, hand still tightly clenched together his brother’s blood now smeared across his fist, “You motherfucker. How could you be so selfish?”

“Selfish?” Lo’ak chuckled now just in mere disbelief, “Seriously?”

“You just don’t say anything! You let her request a transfer and you don’t say anything! What the fuck is wrong with you Lo’ak?”

“Neteyam, stop,” Kiri spoke again, her voice firm

Instead, he stepped forward, the furrow in his brow still evident, and fist raising slightly in the air. Lo’ak shook his head and let out a laugh as he glanced down at the drops of blood on his chest “You know what? Fuck this.”

Lo'ak lunged forward then, his hand clasped tightly into a fist, punching Neteyam square in the side of the head. Knuckles broke skin, right above the warrior's left eyebrow. Kiri hissed under her breath, somehow beginning to feel like her mother did when she once had to deal with stupid men and their need to solve problems with their fists, “Ftang! (stop) Both of you.”

Neteyam stumbled back but only for a moment as he regained his strength immediately. He smirked slightly, not even bothering to check the damage as he bound forward again. Getting a hold of Lo’ak, they both fell to the ground and suddenly it had become a conversation turned to punches being thrown back and forth. Neteyam had managed to get multiple in, not even holding back on his strength, until Lo’ak managed to get a leg up in between them, kneeing his older brother straight in the side.

“Ftang (stop)!”

Neteyam’s abdomen clenched and the sudden impact knocked the wind out of him, giving Lo’ak the opportunity to roll over on top of him. Lo’ak with the upper hand began to throw punches into his brother’s sides rather than his face. Hissing out, Neteyam felt his body recoil at every harsh throw to his torso and it was like there was nothing left. Nothing left in him to bargain for or intangibly fix. The pain was all-consuming at that point, his brain unable to wash away the deception he felt.

Letting out a yell, Neteyam sent a barreling hook into Lo’ak’s chin knocking him off balance. With the opportunity, he shoved his younger brother back and off of him. Lo’ak hit the ground hard, his back sliding across the dirt, creating more cuts.

Scrambling up on his feet, Neteyam wiped the blood from his face and stepped towards his brother’s frame, suddenly defenseless. He struggled to breathe but gathered all the strength he could and as he towered over his younger brother, he felt his respect for Lo’ak disappear completely. Staring down, he took notice of the blood sliding down across the side of Lo’ak’s face as well as the deep cut that was made across his upper lip. A bruise was already forming around his eyes, and his hands were splattered with Neteyam’s blood.

As he looked down at him, a flicker of the past appeared in front of his eyes. A smaller Lo’ak, an innocent helpless child who followed him around, asking him to teach him to hunt. A child who paraded around the village on Neteyam's tail trying to get him to play with him. For a moment as he stared down at Lo'ak, all he saw was his younger troublesome brother who was almost two years younger than him. Then in an instant, that old version was gone, like it was nothing but a ghost of the past, and in its place remained the Lo’ak he had been dealing with for years. The one he felt had hurt him in the worst way possible.

Kiri was staring at her brothers in disbelief and watched with fear as Neteyam stood huffing over Lo’ak, still full of so much anger. A look and feeling none of them thought he was capable of directing at someone in his family, let alone his younger brother. Luckily, before anything else could happen, all three siblings felt their attention be ripped away by the sound of heavy footsteps soon accompanied by a bellowing voice. One that was far scarier than even Neteyam’s.

Jake had heard from a rider of the clan that they had spotted his two sons yelling at one another in the old tree. He sighed, already annoyed about having to deliver a long lecture as well as a kick in the ass to both of his sons. A parenting moment that he didn’t have time for. Having heard the rider’s words, Neytiri looked over at her husband in slight disbelief. With Tuk tucked away in bed, both parents began to make their way to the old sacred tree.

What had been described as a mere argument seemed to be so much more as they heard their daughter yelling inside at her two brothers, accompanied by the sounds of colliding fists and painful grunts. They broke out into a run then and as Jake sprinted to the tree, he felt his stomach drop at the sight of his two sons tangled on the ground punches flying at one another.

As he stepped foot inside, he found Neteyam towering over Lo’ak both of them covered in blood and bruises. Kiri stood by, arms wrapped around herself with tears filling her eyes. He surveyed the scene and felt all reason leave his body. His stare hardened and his entire body tensed up at a sight he never expected to see.

“Hey! What the fuck do you two think you are doing?”

As they got closer, Neytiri gasped at the appearance of her two sons, battered and bruised far worse than she had ever seen before. Approaching Kiri, she took her hand in hers while her own expression seethed fire, “Kehe (no)! What happened?”

Jake took a hold of Lo’ak and pulled him up and off the ground, his expression was sharp as knives as his hand firmly gripped his youngest son’s arm.

“It was one thing to hear a rider tell me that he can hear both of my sons screaming and at each other’s throats about something but it was another to come and find you two idiots trying to beat each other to a pulp!”

Neteyam wasn’t even looking at his father, instead deathly still with a distraught look pained across his face. His brother's glare twists in his chest and at the hollow feeling in his throat, he couldn't help but look down at his hands and his body. Blood coating his skin like heavy rain, resembled the only feeling still piercing his chest.

“What the fuck has gotten into the two of you?” Jake demanded.

He was met with a deafening silence. Neytiri hissed at her two sons, the disbelief that such anger could be taken out on each other evident on her face. “Answer your father!”

Feeling the tightness of his father’s grip, Lo’ak's mouth parted like he was going to answer, but before he could say anything Neteyam beat him to it, his voice raw and empty, “Nothing.”

“Nothing, really?” Jake chuckled, angrily, “Why don’t you take a look at your brother’s face and tell me if that does something to jog your memory.”

Neteyam's lips sealed shut, eyes refusing to look away from his blood-covered knuckles. At his silence, Jake huffed so loudly it drew a shaky breath out of Kiri as he directed his glare away from Neteyam to Lo'ak. Except Lo’ak wouldn't dare break first.

Jaked growled, reaching out to grab Neteyma’s forearm to try and get his attention. His glaring eyes could not stop looking between his two sons, ablazed. His sight turned red and his expression was rigid as his teeth gritted together.

“You both better come up with an answer real quick or you’re going to get knots in your tails. You read me?”

His grip had loosened slightly however as he looked back over at Neteyam. The tightness of his jaw and the quiver of his bleeding lips took Jake by surprise. It was a look he had never seen on his son before. Tears welled up in the young soldier's eyes and he fought to keep them from escaping in front of his father. Warriors don't cry and they sure as hell don't cave in. They don't get crushed under the weight of a broken heart because there are others to be concerned about.

With his ears pulled back, he felt the tightness in his chest worsen. Jake shared a look with Neytiri and it was like they both could identify the exact feeling laced across their son's face. Defeat.

Jake's mouth parted in shock as Neteyam suddenly ripped his arm free and turned swiftly on his heels, heading straight for the exit.

“Neteyam!”

#avatar #avatarimagine #avatar way of water #neteyam x reader #writing #fanfiction #neteyam imagine #avatar imagine #avatar fanfiction #lo'ak imagine #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak fanfiction #neteyam fanfiction

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wolken-himmel · 2 years

Text

In which Malleus overhears (Y/n) singing during one of his nightly walks.

Who knew that the prefect had such a lovely voice? Perhaps he has already heard it once upon a dream.

Request by anon.

The full moon adorned the shimmering stars in the night sky. Together, they casted a beautiful hue of white light onto the scenery of Night Raven College. On such nights, Malleus loved to wander the empty hallways of the main school building. The long and winding hallways seemed empty without the usual crowds of students, but perhaps the emptiness this contrast created drew him in.

A few crickets or birds could be heard here and there, but otherwise the night was silent. Malleus was about to finish his third round of the main building. He had hoped that the walking would take the worries off his mind. After not having found his favourite prefect at the Ramshackle mansion, he couldn't help but wonder where you were.

Perhaps you were sleeping, he mused. Humans had always been fragile beings that needed their beauty sleep.

Although he knew that you needed your sleep, he couldn't help but miss your presence. There were times when you would talk endlessly, never tiring of ranting and speaking. And then there were other nights when you wouldn't utter a single word — not out of discomfort, but instead because you seemed to enjoy the silence. Malleus liked hearing your voice, he had to admit, and it was during the latter that he would yearn to hear your lulling and soft voice.

His eyebrows began to crease again. He should stop thinking about your voice, or else he would find himself with a longing feeling in the pit of his stomach once again.

A soft sigh escaped his lips as he turned on his heel. It was time for his nightly walk to come to an end. As if stuck in time, he remained frozen for a while — indecisive as if procrastinating. But his responsible side eventually eased him into movement towards the mirror chamber. It truly was time to return his dorm and retire for the night.

"I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream."

Someone was singing. His pointed ears perked up in curiosity. Why would anyone be singing in the dead of the night, in some desolate hallway? His originally startled stance eased up as soon as he realised just how soothing the singing was. The voice seemed strangely familiar to him, though he couldn't put a finger on who the owner could be.

"I know you, the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam."

The voice echoed along the hallway, thus earning an almost heavenly sound. Even if the owner might have sounded wonky at some points, he still found himself drawn in all the same.

"Yet I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem." There it was again, the melody somehow becoming more enchanting by the minute.

Curiosity finally overwhelmed Malleus, and he once again turned on his heel to investigate. He found himself drawn in like a sailor to a siren's song. His feet seemed to move on their own, with a brisk urgency he hadn't felt in a long while. The originally faint singing grew louder, and he knew he was on the right trail.

"But if I know you, I know what you'll do~ You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream."

A smile grew on his lips, and he closed his eyes in delight. He found himself having arrived when he spotted a dark silhouette in the next hallway. After having briefly peeked around the corner to realise his success, he quickly retreated behind cover and stayed there. With his back pressed against the cold stone wall, he closed his eyes in delight.

"But if I know you, I know what you'll do— You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream."

The tune etched itself into his mind, and he quickly began humming along without realising. His heart had slowed to the pace of a snail, and he found himself in a truly wonderful space of mind. It had been a long while since he had felt so... at home. The voice brought him an unexplainable sense of comfort.

"I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream. I know you, the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam."

The song began once again from the beginning, much to his delight. He never wanted it to end.

"And I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem. But if I know you, I know what you'll do—"

So caught within a trance, Malleus never realised that his lips parted by themselves. "You'll love me at once," he sang along happily, "the way you did once upon a dream." The two voices mixed together to create a beautiful harmony that managed to pull at his heartstrings.

The more it hit him like a wall of bricks when the other voice came to a sudden halt. His eyes snapped open at once. Only then did he realise his mistake of having piped up accidentally. He cursed himself for having lost control so easily, but his instincts immediately made him jump out of hiding.

His eyes fell on the mysterious figure whose back was no longer turned to him. The moon light from the large windows fell on the face of the unknown singer. There you were, frozen like a deer in headlights. For what felt like eternity, you merely stood there and stared back at him in shock.

"Child of man?" he breathed out in disbelief. No wonder the voice seemed so familiar to him.

At once, you fell out of your stupor. The surprise on your face now replaced by embarrassment, you let out a sheepish chuckle. "Oh, it's just you, Malleus. I thought you were a teacher... I wouldn't want to get in trouble," you began to rant. "What are you doing out here at this time?"

He tilted his head to the side in amusement. "Shouldn't I ask you the same question? I thought you humans valued your nightly sleep."

Your cheeks grew warm at his comment, and you cast your gaze at the floor. "Well, uh... I couldn't sleep. Strange, eh?" Your eyes never met his; instead, they darted everywhere else. "Back in my world, I would sing whenever I couldn't sleep. I guess it tires me out."

"You could have stayed in the safety of your dorm." Malleus quirked an eyebrow when he noticed you shivering.

"Yeah, but Grim's snoring was way too loud."

A snicker escaped his lips at the way you rolled your eyes. He didn't voice his thoughts, but he found the gesture adorable. Nonetheless, he beckoned you towards him, whispering, "Come now, you are cold. You should return to your dorm. Have you sung enough for tonight?"

"I guess so," you muttered while suppressing a yawn. You let yourself be guided into the general direction of your dorm, his hand gently resting on your back.

"I didn't know you could sing so well," Malleus said after a while. "I could have listened to you all night long."

A sheepish smile flashed across your face. "Thank you."

The fae hummed happily. "Your choice of song seems familiar. Perhaps I've heard it once upon a dream."

#twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #reader insert #y/n #disney twst #twst x you #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #twst malleus #twst malleus draconia #twst malleus x reader #twisted wonderland malleus #gender neutral reader

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dee-writes-smut · 5 months

Text

WINTER (Chapter Two)

FEATURING Azriel x Illyrian!reader

SUMMARY in the aftermath of your kidnapping, you find it harder than normal to cope and continue on with life, causing you to push the people closest to you away. (THIS IS A PART TWO)

CONTENT WARNINGS descriptions of injuries, pain, torture, severe depression, and PTSD. If you thought the last one was dark, buckle up.

AUTHORS NOTE wow, three fics in two days?! What happened to me? I have just been super motivated to write creatively recently, which is exciting! So here, enjoy the second part of the Season's series, Winter.

Winter's embrace was a bleak grip, the world laying shrouded in a suffocating blanket of ice and snow, each flake a cruel reminder of nature's indifference. The landscape stretched out before you like a desolate wasteland, barren trees reaching up like skeletal fingers towards a sky heavy with the promise of more bitter cold to come. There was no warmth to be found here, only the biting chill that gnawed at your bones and numbed your very soul.

Gone were the vibrant colors and lively sounds of spring, replaced instead by a deafening silence broken only by the hollow howl of the wind as it whipped through the skeletal remains of once-thriving forests. The air was thick with a palpable sense of despair, each breath a struggle against the icy grip of despair that threatened to crush you under its weight.

As you trudged through the snow, each step felt like a punishment, a relentless march towards an uncertain fate. The landscape seemed to taunt you with its emptiness, a cruel reminder of the futility of your existence in a world so devoid of life and hope. Shadows danced across the frozen ground, twisting and contorting into grotesque shapes that seemed to mock your very presence.

And yet, amidst the desolation, there was a perverse beauty to be found – in the stark contrast of black against white, in the delicate lacework of frost that adorned the barren branches, in the eerie stillness that hung heavy in the air like a shroud. It was a beauty born of darkness, a twisted reflection of the cruel whims of fate that had brought you to this forsaken place.

In the heart of winter's icy grip, you found yourself consumed by a sense of isolation and despair, a prisoner in a world that had long since abandoned any pretense of kindness or compassion. It was a season of suffering, of unrelenting cruelty, of darkness so deep that even the faintest glimmer of hope seemed but a distant memory. And as the cold crept ever closer, you couldn't help but wonder if there would ever be an end to the endless winter that had consumed your very soul.

(Wintertime, Velaris)

As the first rays of dawn painted the sky in hues of pink and gold, I sat alone on the edge of my bed, my gaze fixed on the empty space where my wings used to be. The pain, both physical and emotional, gnawed at me like a relentless predator, sinking its claws deep into my chest, a constant reminder of everything I had lost. My once majestic wings, the very essence of my being, were gone, severed from my body by those who sought to break my spirit.

With trembling hands, I traced the scars where my wings had been, feeling the phantom sensation of membrane-like skin against my fingertips. The memory of their hard, bone-like ridges, their graceful span; it lingered like a bittersweet melody, haunting yet achingly beautiful. Tears welled in my eyes, blurring the world around me with their shimmering veil, but I refused to let them fall. Crying felt like admitting defeat, acknowledging just how shattered I truly was. So instead, I pushed the pain down, burying it deep within me, where no one could see.

But the emptiness inside me was a vast abyss, yawning wide and hungry, impossible to ignore. I had always prided myself on my resilience, my strength, but now I felt like a mere husk of my former self. The trauma of my kidnapping weighed upon my mind like a heavy shroud, casting shadows that danced and twisted in the corners of my consciousness.

As the days stretched into weeks, and weeks into months, I withdrew further into myself, cocooning my heart in layers of solitude and silence. The world outside seemed distant and hazy, a blurred landscape of faces and voices that I could no longer connect with. I couldn't bear the pity in their eyes, the whispered words of sympathy that fell like stones upon my wounded soul. So, I built walls around my heart, brick by brick, until I was encased in a fortress of my own making, impervious to the outside world.

Even Azriel, my steadfast companion, my unwavering ally, found himself barred from the inner sanctum of my heart. He tried to reach me, to break through the barriers I had erected, but I turned away, unable to bear the thought of exposing my vulnerability to anyone, even him. I didn't want their pity or their well-meaning words. All I wanted was to be left alone with my pain, to drown in it until it consumed me completely.

But even in my darkest moments, a flicker of hope danced on the periphery of my consciousness, a tiny flame that refused to be extinguished. It whispered of resilience and redemption, of healing and renewal, but I pushed it away, hiding from its warmth like a frightened child. For now, I would remain adrift in a sea of darkness, lost and alone, clinging to the fragile thread of hope that promised a way out of the abyss.

The memories played out in my mind with vivid intensity, each scene etched into my consciousness like a brand of torment.

I remembered the moment I was jolted from unconsciousness, the harsh voice of my captor slicing through the haze like a blade. "Wake up, whore," he hissed, sending a shiver down my spine and igniting a primal fear within me. Blinking against the darkness that enveloped me, I felt the oppressive weight of a bag over my head, suffocating and disorienting. Panic surged through me as I realized my bound state, my struggles against the restraints futile in the face of impending doom.

The voice, dripping with malice, mocked my defiance. "No need to struggle, sweetheart," he sneered, his words a cruel reminder of my helplessness. As I strained to make sense of my surroundings, fear clawed its way through my throat, leaving behind deep grooves of despair. The familiar scent of damp earth and mildew filled my senses, a chilling reminder of the unknown horrors that awaited me.

A flicker of hope emerged in the form of Azriel, my steadfast protector, but it was quickly extinguished by the looming presence of Lyris, a childhood friend turned tormentor. His eyes gleamed with sadistic delight as he brandished a dagger, the cold metal glinting ominously in the dim light.

With a cruel smirk, Lyris descended upon me, his voice filled with twisted pleasure. "Time to finally take what's mine," he taunted, the blade poised to inflict unimaginable pain.

The first cut tore through me like a bolt of lightning, a searing agony that ripped through flesh and soul alike. My cries echoed off the walls of the chamber, lost in the darkness that enveloped me.

But the torment did not end there. With each merciless stroke of the blade, Lyris carved away my very essence, leaving behind a shattered shell of my former self. I watched helplessly as my wings, once symbols of freedom and strength, were mutilated and discarded like worthless scraps of flesh.

And as the last remnants of my identity fell away, a hollow emptiness consumed me, leaving behind only the cruel scars of my torment. I was no longer whole, no longer the person I once was. I had been robbed of everything that defined me, my essence stolen by the darkness that lurked within the depths of my captor's soul.

As the soft rap echoed through the hollow corridors, it felt like a distant echo of a life I once knew, one filled with warmth and camaraderie. Reluctantly, I approached the door, each step heavy with the weight of my turmoil, the heavy thud of my heart matching the rhythm of my footfalls.

Feyre stood there, framed by the soft glow of the hallway lanterns, her presence both a comfort and a reminder of the bonds I had once cherished. In her hands, she cradled a delicate tray, a small offering of sustenance amidst the darkness that engulfed me.

"I brought you some food," she offered, her voice a soothing melody in the stillness of the room, a fragile thread of connection in the vast expanse of my solitude. "I thought you might be hungry."

My response was curt, a reflexive defense against the vulnerability her kindness exposed. "I don't need your pity, Feyre," I retorted, the bitterness in my voice a stark contrast to the warmth of her offering. "I can take care of myself."

For a fleeting moment, hurt flickered in her eyes, a silent plea for understanding that cut through the barriers I had erected around my wounded heart. But she quickly masked it with a forced smile, her resilience a testament to the depth of her compassion.

Without another word, she set the tray down on the table beside me, the scent of warm food mingling with the heavy silence that enveloped us. It was a gesture of kindness in a world that had grown cold and indifferent, a fleeting glimpse of the friendship I had once treasured.

As Feyre lingered in the doorway, her gaze lingered on mine with a quiet intensity, a silent invitation to let her in, to share the burden of my pain. "Is there anything else I can do for you?" she asked, her voice a gentle reminder that I was not alone, that there were still those who cared enough to reach out a helping hand.

But I shook my head, my walls still firmly in place, my pride a shield against the vulnerability her presence exposed. "No," I replied curtly, my voice a harsh echo of the emptiness that echoed within me.

With a nod of understanding, Feyre turned to leave, the weight of her disappointment a heavy burden on my already burdened soul. And as the door closed behind her, I was left alone once more, the silence of the empty room a stark reminder of the walls I had built to keep the world at bay.

The evening air was thick with the scent of spices and laughter as I made my way through the bustling streets of Velaris, the soft glow of lanterns casting a warm hue over the cobblestone pathways. Each step felt heavy, burdened by the weight of my own thoughts, as I navigated the vibrant tapestry of the Night Court.

Amidst the lively chatter and cheerful bustle of the city, familiar voices pierced through the haze of my melancholy. Mor's vibrant laughter echoed through the air, drawing my gaze towards her radiant figure standing across the street. Beside her, Cassian, his presence as imposing as ever, offered a welcoming grin that tugged at the corners of my lips despite my inner turmoil.

"Hey, there she is!" Mor's voice carried on the breeze, her smile bright as she beckoned me over. "Come join us!"

Cassian's invitation followed, his boisterous enthusiasm contagious as he gestured towards the tavern. "We're heading for a drink. You should come with us."

My heart clenched at the genuine warmth in their gestures, a stark contrast to the icy grip of my own despair. The desire to lose myself in their company, if only for a fleeting moment, warred with the overwhelming sense of unworthiness that gnawed at my soul.

But as Mor reached out to take my hand, her touch a gentle reminder of the bond we shared, a surge of jealousy and resentment swept through me. My gaze flickered to Cassian, his powerful wings a constant reminder of everything I had lost. Anger boiled within me, bitter and consuming, as I struggled to suppress the envy that threatened to engulf me. "I appreciate the offer, but I think I'll pass," I managed to say, my voice betraying a hint of regret. "I'm not really in the mood for drinking tonight."

Mor's smile faltered for a moment, a flicker of concern crossing her features before she masked it with reassurance. "That's okay," she said softly, her words a soothing balm to the ache in my heart. "But if you ever change your mind, you know where to find us."

With a nod of understanding, I watched as they disappeared into the throng of revelers, their laughter fading into the night. Left alone on the deserted street, the weight of my solitude pressed heavily upon me, a reminder of the chasm that separated me from the warmth of their companionship. As the echoes of their laughter dissolved into the stillness of the night, I couldn't shake the pang of resentment that lingered in my chest. But even amidst the darkness of my despair, I knew that I couldn't risk dragging my friends down with me. So, with a heavy heart, I turned away, retreating into the shadows once more, the silence of the night swallowing me whole.

The faint glow of moonlight, a silver cascade, filtered through the windows, casting ethereal patterns across the dimly lit kitchen of the Night Court's sprawling estate. I stood amidst the chaos, surrounded by a haphazard array of pots, pans, and ingredients scattered across the countertops. My attempt at cooking had quickly spiraled into a messy disaster, each failed endeavor only serving to fuel my frustration further.

As I grappled with the stubborn lid of a jar, a voice sliced through the silence, its presence both unexpected and unwelcome.

"What in the world are you doing?"

Startled, I turned to find Rhysand standing in the doorway, his silhouette a stark contrast against the luminescent backdrop. His wings, a breathtaking display of power and grace, unfurled behind him like the majestic sails of a ship, the membrane-like skin gleaming in the moonlight. They seemed to pulsate with an otherworldly energy, each beat a testament to the freedom and strength they embodied. My heart clenched at the sight, a bitter pang of jealousy twisting in the depths of my soul. Once, I had known that same sense of freedom, had soared through the skies with effortless grace, my wings slicing through the air like a blade through silk. But now, they were gone, cruelly ripped from my back by those who sought to break me.

An ache, dull and persistent, throbbed in the space where my wings had once been, a constant reminder of everything I had lost. I longed to feel the wind beneath me, to taste the exhilarating rush of flight once more, but it was nothing more than a distant dream, forever out of reach.

"None of your business," I snapped, my voice a whipcrack of frustration, my fingers still wrestling with the stubborn jar lid. The last thing I needed was his pity, his condescending attempts to help when I clearly didn't want it.

Rhysand's gaze softened, a flicker of concern crossing his features as he approached with cautious steps, his movements a ballet of grace. "You're making quite a mess," he observed, his voice gentle but firm, like the soothing murmur of a distant stream. "Let me help you."

I recoiled from his touch, the anger bubbling to the surface like molten lava erupting from the depths of the earth. "I don't need your help," I spat, my voice tinged with venom, the bitterness like bile in my throat. "I don't need anyone."

There was a brief pause, a pregnant silence hanging heavy in the air as Rhysand regarded me with a mixture of sympathy and frustration. "You're clearly upset," he said softly, his words a gentle caress against the storm raging within me. "Let me help you. Let us help you."

But I refused to listen, the tempest of my emotions raging unabated, the walls around my heart fortified against any intrusion. With a strangled cry of frustration, I shoved past him and fled from the room, the echoes of his words following me like a haunting refrain, the cadence of his footsteps a melancholy echo in the corridors of my mind.

Alone in the sanctuary of my darkened chamber, I collapsed onto the bed, the weight of my own solitude pressing down upon me like a suffocating avalanche. Tears welled in my eyes, hot and stinging, as I buried my face in the pillows, the emptiness consuming me like a ravenous beast, its jaws gnashing at the frayed edges of my soul.

"Mind if I join you?"

Nesta's voice broke through the silence, her presence a welcome intrusion in the stillness of the night. I turned to face her, my expression guarded and wary, unsure of what to expect. She stepped onto the balcony, her graceful movements a stark contrast to the heaviness that weighed upon my own shoulders. There was a quiet understanding in her gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the pain that lingered beneath the surface.

"I know what it's like," she said softly, her voice a gentle murmur in the quiet expanse of the night. "To push people away, to build walls around your heart so high that no one can reach you."

I bristled at her words, the anger and resentment bubbling to the surface like a dormant volcano awakening from its slumber. How dare she presume to understand the depths of my despair, the darkness that threatened to consume me from within?

"You have no idea what I'm going through," I snapped, my voice tinged with bitterness. "You have Cassian, you have someone who loves you unconditionally. I have no one."

Nesta's gaze softened, a flicker of sympathy in her eyes as she reached out to take my hand. "I may have Cassian, but that doesn't mean I haven't faced my own demons," she said gently. "I know what it's like to feel like you're drowning in darkness, to feel like there's no way out."

I recoiled from her touch, the walls around my heart growing ever taller with each passing moment. "I don't need your pity," I retorted, my voice laced with venom. "I don't need anyone."

Nesta's expression faltered for a moment, a fleeting glimpse of hurt crossing her features before she quickly masked it with a steely resolve. "Fine," she said, her voice tinged with resignation. "But just know that I'm here if you ever change your mind. No judgments, no expectations. Just someone who understands." And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving me alone once more with the weight of my own sorrow.

The library exuded an atmosphere of solemn tranquility, its shelves adorned with ancient tomes and illuminated by the soft glow of flickering candles. I sat ensconced amidst the towering pillars of knowledge, a solitary figure in the midst of a vast sea of wisdom, my thoughts tumultuous and unruly.

"I’m joining you.”

The voice, sharp and unwavering, pierced the silence like a dagger, its intrusion disrupting the fragile peace that had settled over the room. Startled, I glanced up to find Amren standing before me, her gaze penetrating and incisive, cutting through the veil of my solitude with unnerving precision.

"Fine," I sighed, my voice tinged with resignation as I gestured for her to take a seat. Amren wasted no time in settling herself across from me, her movements fluid and purposeful, her eyes fixed upon me with an intensity that made me squirm.

"You look like hell," she remarked bluntly, her words a harsh echo in the stillness of the library.

I bristled at her candor, the urge to lash out bubbling up from the depths of my despair like a tempest on the horizon. But there was something in Amren's gaze, a glimmer of genuine concern beneath the steely facade, that gave me pause. She wasn't asking out of idle curiosity; she genuinely wanted to understand the turmoil that churned within me.

"It's nothing," I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper as I averted my gaze, unwilling to meet her probing stare.

Amren snorted in disbelief, her lips curling into a sardonic smile as she leaned forward, her eyes boring into mine with unrelenting intensity. "Don't give me that bullshit," she retorted, her tone sharp and unyielding. "I may not be the touchy-feely type, but even I can see that something's eating you alive."

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat growing with each passing moment as I struggled to find the words to express the depth of my despair. But before I could respond, Amren reached out and grasped my hand, her touch surprisingly gentle despite the steel in her eyes. "I'm not going to pretend to understand what you're going through," she said softly, her voice a quiet reassurance in the stillness of the library. "But I do know one thing: you don't have to face it alone. We're your friends, and we're here for you, no matter what."

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, hot and stinging, as I looked into Amren's unwavering gaze. In that moment, I realized that she was right. I didn't have to carry the weight of my despair alone. I had friends who cared about me, who were willing to stand by my side through the darkest of times. But even as the realization washed over me like a tidal wave, a part of me rebelled against the idea of letting them in. The walls around my heart, built brick by brick in an attempt to shield myself from further pain, felt impenetrable, insurmountable.

With a trembling breath, I pulled my hand away from Amren's grasp, my movements abrupt and jerky. "I don't need your help," I said, my voice strained with emotion. "I don't need anyone."

Amren's expression hardened, her eyes flashing with barely concealed anger as she stared at me, incredulous. "You're a fool if you think you can face this alone," she spat, her voice cold and cutting. "But fine, if that's how you want it. Just know that when you finally come crawling back, don't expect us to welcome you with open arms."

And with that, she rose from her seat and stormed from the room, leaving me alone once more with the weight of my own despair. Even as the silence settled around me like a suffocating blanket, I couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that gnawed at my soul.

As the twilight descended, casting its ethereal veil over the Night Court's training grounds, I found myself standing alone at the edge of the courtyard, my heart heavy with the burden of my own anguish. The fading light painted the world in hues of amber and indigo, a melancholy backdrop to the tempest raging within.

With measured steps, Azriel approached, his presence a soothing balm amidst the chaos of my emotions. His silhouette merged with the shadows, his eyes alight with concern as he drew near. "Are you alright?" His voice, a tender caress against the backdrop of the evening's symphony, reached out to me, offering solace in the darkness.

I turned to face him, my heart aching with the weight of unspoken words, the tumult of my soul laid bare in the vulnerability of my gaze. "Do I look alright?" I whispered, the bitterness of my sorrow echoing in the stillness of the night. "Do I seem like someone who has it all together?"

Azriel's expression softened, his gaze a mirror to the storm brewing within me. "I'm just trying to help," he murmured, his voice a gentle melody that stirred the depths of my wounded spirit.

Tears welled in my eyes, the ache in my chest threatening to consume me whole. "Maybe I don't want your help," I confessed, the admission a fragile confession of my deepest fears. "Maybe I'm tired of everyone trying to fix me, like I'm some broken thing in need of repair."

The hurt that flickered in Azriel's eyes pierced through me, his anguish a reflection of my own. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice laden with remorse, a silent plea for understanding.

My resolve wavered, the walls around my heart crumbling in the face of his compassion. "I don't need your apologies," I confessed, the weight of my pain heavy upon my shoulders. "I just need… I don't know what I need."

With that, I turned away, the vulnerability of my confession hanging heavy in the air between us. As I retreated into the enveloping darkness, I felt the warmth of Azriel's presence recede, leaving me alone with the ache of my own brokenness. And in the stillness of the night, I grappled with the realization that perhaps, amidst the chaos of my despair, what I truly longed for was the one thing I had pushed away—the comforting embrace of someone who cared.

But even as I yearned for solace, the sight of Azriel, the one who had rescued me from the clutches of darkness, stirred within me a tumult of conflicting emotions. His Illyrian heritage, his wings—symbols of strength and freedom—served as painful reminders of the horrors I had endured. And in his compassionate gaze, I saw reflected the shadows of my past, haunting me with memories I longed to forget. It was hard to see him, to confront the echoes of my trauma that lingered in his presence, yet even amidst the pain, there remained a flicker of hope—something that clung so tight, that wouldn’t let go, and that throbbed in the presence of him.

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toomanyideasandfandoms · 6 months

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I actually had random motivation to write a small thing for Death Seeking Creator so here *throws at the wall* I'll post more if I feel inspiration.

Small warning, I tried not to be too explicit with the deaths. But who knows if I succeeded so apologies if you're squeamish with blood and such things.

~~~~~~

It's the same thing every time.

They wake up, a scream tearing from their soul as tears fall down. They could barely taste the bile that threatened to eject from their empty stomach, causing them to wheeze and cough to prevent it. But soon laughter bubbled up, their hands clutched their head as their voice croaked as more and more giggles erupted.

It could barely be recognized as laughter as their hoarse voice screamed and wailed out to the darken clouds as rain pelted their golden scars and tattered cloth. Thunder could be heard as they finally lose their breath, coughing as their body forced them to calm down from their fit of insanity.

As they breathed, their mind could only think back to how they ended up here.

They had chosen to travel through the desert, since that's all they could do when waking up in such a desolate place. They had hoped to come across a group of mercenaries or even scholars that could help them. But instead all they met was the blood red eyes of the character- nay, the person they once cherished and adored.

They couldn't remember his words, only the coldness in his voice as he looked upon them in disgust and animosity. They didn't even have time to process as he grabbed their throat and stole their breath, pinning them onto the hot sand as they stared back up in shock. Then they saw his face morph into unbridled rage, releasing them as if their skin burned his. They didn't have a chance to recover once the spear pierced them.

It's the same thing every time.

They slowly stood, feeling the rain hit their skin as they looked up into the endless sky. Their ears picked up movement from within the forest they now reside in, a wide grin now beginning to rise. They turned to face a familiar pair of glowing eyes, once that held a familiar rage.

“Oh my! It's been awhile Barbat-” They cut off as the arrow flew towards them, hitting its mark.

A scream rips out as they fall onto their knees, clutching onto the arrow piercing their heart. Blood pools out of their mouth, their airways flooding from the liquid.

Laughter bubbles up again, their veins filled with euphoria as they see the black spots in their vision. The rain pours harder, practically leaving marks against their brittle skin. But they couldn't hear it as their own voice drowned out the thunder. Their grin was wide, almost manic as they opened their arms out to the enraged god before them.

“Oh thank you! Thank you for such a wonderful feeling!” They cried out in happiness, babbling at how euphoric their pain feels. Their hands, now gripping onto the arrow, drive it further into their body. They wail as it brings about more pain, tears trailing down their cheeks. Or was it tears? It was impossible to tell for either party because of the rain.

They giggled as they coughed out a small puddle of blood, no longer able to hold it in. The golden color glows warmly against the cold grass, sparkling as if stars had been placed inside it. They laugh louder, babbling about how the lack of air has made them hallucinate, not paying attention to the horror on the face of the god.

They could hear him yell over the rain, feeling his hands now force their face to meet his. They wheezed at his expression, gurgling out words of mocking. Their blood poured out as each word was said, their eyes shining wide. They could feel his hands quickly grab theirs, attempting to rip it away from the arrow, but it only made them rip said object out. More blood pooled around them as they cried out from the pain.

They couldn't breath, their wide grin softening into a small smile as the darkness finally took hold. They paid no mind to the screaming from the god, nor his words of pain.

Thunder boomed as they went limp in the now weeping god's arms.

It's the same fucking thing every time.

#sagau #genshin sagau #death seeking creator #cw death #cw blood #sagau x reader

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nicromancytarot · 6 months

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A SONG FOR YOU

This is a general channelling based on a collective of people. Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. If you don’t feel the pile resonates with you, don’t be scared to try another, if it still doesn’t feel right, that’s ok! Maybe our energies aren’t as connected and my content is not for you.

I do these strictly for fun and educational purposes.

PICK A PILE CHANNELLING

I write songs sometimes in my free time, and I asked my spirit guides to give you guys a song which could have something that you need to hear right now. Pick a card and enjoy some lyrics.

Pile 1 ———> Pile 2

Pile 3 ———> Pile 4

PILE 1

SWAN DIVE

VERSE 1

promise me one thing,

you’ll never let this go,

we’ll be a forever answer,

to the calls of the unknown

VERSE 2

nothing to tear us apart,

it’s the only thing i fear,

not having you anymore,

while i’m still stuck here

PRE-CHORUS

nothing can destroy us,

you’ll be by my side,

til the end of time

(til the end of time)

CHORUS

fuck death do us part,

i’m taking the swan dive,

i’m falling from the sky,

so you’ll always be mine,

fuck death do us part,

i’m taking the swan dive,

from the clouds into the ground,

i’ll be by your side

VERSE 3

no one can compare,

to the love i have for you,

no one can treat me better,

than the way you do

VERSE 4

when you jump i’ll jump too

i’ll always follow you,

to the deep depths of death,

there’s nothing i wouldn’t do

PRE-CHORUS

nothing can destroy us,

you’ll always be by my side,

til the end of time

(til the end of time)

CHORUS

fuck death do us part,

i’m taking the swan dive,

i’m falling from the sky,

so you’ll always be mine,

fuck death do us part,

i’m taking the swan dive,

from the clouds into the ground,

i’ll be by your side

LAST VERSE

my heart is tied to yours,

it beats when yours does,

we’ll be inseparable,

in the sky above

Swans mate for life, when their partner dies, the remaining swan flies high into the sky and falls to their death, performing their last swan dive. The narrator is serenading their partner, telling them that their love is to last beyond the grave.

PILE 2

DELUSIONAL WONDER

VERSE 1

sometimes i wish that i could live inside my mind,

so i could figure out what’s going on behind,

you greet me with a smile and open arms,

when i’m with you i feel safe from harm

VERSE 2

you lean in to give me a kiss on my cheek,

and pass me a bouquet of my favourite flowers,

oh how it’s so good for us to finally meet,

i pace around my room and think about you for hours

CHORUS

and you say...

come on, come closer,

let me hold you til the war is over,

and if i ever let you go,

just know that i’m your delusional wonder

BRIDGE

turn the page and dry your tears,

keep pretending that i am near,

and when we meet again tonight,

we can pick off where we ended last time

CHORUS

come on, come closer,

i’ll let you hold me til the war is over,

and if you ever let me go,

i’ll always know that you’re my delusional wonder

BRIDGE

visit me again in my dreams,

like you do everyday of each week,

and when i hold your head in my hands,

i’ll remember it’s a fantasy land

VERSE 3

when i wake up and see you’re not laying next to me,

a fear strikes deep deep inside my being,

you know there’s something wrong when you think something exists but it don’t (though)

VERSE 4

and even when i beckon upon your name,

the sound of silence always stays the same,

the earth is a desolate place when you’re not here and only in my dreams

CHORUS

and you say...

come on, come closer,

let me hold you til the war is over,

and if i ever let you go,

just know that i’m your delusional wonder

BRIDGE

turn the page and dry your tears,

keep pretending that i am near,

and when we meet again tonight,

we can pick up where we ended last time

CHORUS

come on, come closer,

let me hold you til the war is over,

and if i ever let you go,

just know that i’m your delusional wonder,

come on, come closer,

i’ll let you hold me til the war is over,

and if you ever let me go,

i’ll always know that you’re my delusional wonder

the narrator is daydreaming as an escape from reality, and falls in love with a character they have made up in her head just to realise that they are not real.

PILE 3

SILENCE CAUSES VIOLENCE

(This one was written purely for this.)

VERSE 1

i’m like a ballerina in a jewellery box,

when the music stops,

my heart drops,

i cant be alone with my own thoughts,

without thinking about ending it all

VERSE 2

what makes my mind so useless?

an apathetic version of what i say,

i often think that i’m going insane,

but it’s all in my brain,

yeah, it’s all in my brain?

CHORUS

i’m begging you, don’t let the quiet in,

cause i don’t know what is bound to happen,

the silence causes violence,

a rapture in my heart,

i won’t give in,

but the temptation is calling me

POST-CHORUS

they think Im crazy,

they think i’m out of my mind,

embodying the devil,

won’t hear me out this time,

they think that i am crazy,

some part of a losing game,

one they won’t play for me,

confiscated their tokens away

VERSE 3

i’ve got a taste for destruction,

pouring salt on my own wounds,

refusing to heal my past,

lifting the rug to sweep my dooms

CHORUS

i’m begging you, don’t let the quiet in,

cause I don’t know what is bound to happen,

the silence causes violence,

a rapture in my heart,

i won’t give in,

but the temptations still calling me

The narrators biggest fear is to be alone, to have to think about past experiences, so they overindulge in coping mechanisms, like constant partying.

PILE 4

SCARED OF THE DARK

VERSE 1

racing through emotions,

throwing daggers at my friends,

i promised i wouldn’t hurt myself,

putting means to an end,

i’m enclosed in my room,

painting sheets with all my tears,

tearing myself apart,

analysing all my fears

VERSE 2

i’ve got a target on my back,

but i’m the one with the gun,

inflicting harm on myself,

my mind won’t let me run,

i’m trying to let go,

but the storm cloud followed,

darting into alleyways,

i wanna be alone

CHORUS

i’m not scared of the dark,

but the monsters that live within,

i’m terrified of my reflection,

the mirror showcases all my sins,

the ghoul’s under my bed,

and he’s gripping on my legs,

pulling me under with him,

now the cycle repeats again

BRIDGE

i pulled myself out of this before,

pinched myself so hard, blood could be drawn,

pressed my lips to a glass of cherry wine,

drowned my fears in alcohol,

i do this all the time

VERSE 3

come with me into the night,

this time i won’t put up a fight,

i’ll let myself consume the darkness,

even though it don’t feel right,

let me fall onto my knees,

down by your gravestone i will plead,

let me live my life in comfort,

surrounded by the shadows in me

BRIDGE

i pulled myself out of this before,

pinched myself so hard, blood could be drawn,

pressed my lips to a glass of cherry wine,

drowned my fears in alcohol,

i do this all the time

CHORUS

i’m not scared of the dark,

but the monsters that live within,

i’m terrified of my reflection,

the mirror showcases all my sins,

the ghoul’s under my bed,

and he’s gripping on my legs,

pulling me under with him,

now the cycle repeats again

The narrator can feel themself falling back into that dark place, they try to fight it at first, before letting it consume them, becoming victim to their own sadness.

#pick a card #tarot #tarot reading #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #free tarot #tarot witch #daily tarot #pick a pile #tarot cards

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stargirlinterludefr · 3 months

Text

GOOD LUCK, BABE!: sarah cameron x fem!reader

synopsis: you and sarah are were best friends, she said she wanted to experiment and while she’s everything to you, you’re just an experiment to her. Maybe she was in denial but she realises too late that whatever the two of you had wasn’t ‘nothing’ and she’s forced to stand face to face with i told you so.

TW: hints of homophobia, internalised homophobia, discussion of comphet, drug usage, alcohol consumption, angst, topper, ward actually being a good dad for once, use of y/n, jj being brutally honest

NOTES: sarah is a lesbian in this fic but she struggles heavily with comphet (compulsory heterosexuality) and similar to the song, gets with a man because she can’t accept her sexuality. I have been in the readers situation so writing from experience I suppose.

word count: around 3,010

Driving at sunset in the outer banks is a serene experience, the way the colours dance across the sky and eventually blend into the horizon when you look out upon the sea.

Driving at sunset in the outer banks had always been one of yours and your best friend Sarah’s favourite things to do together, the way you’d drive and she’d stand up through the sun roof of the car, arms our like some kind of angel.

How could you not fall for her?

You were fine with your one sided feelings, truly you were, Sarah was your best friend and you’d already had the conversation about how you didn’t feel anything for her when you eventually came out to her. A big lie, of course, but you just didn’t want to lose her.

So, driving at sunset in the outer banks with the girl you love silently may be foolish to others but it’s a serene kind of peace you’d never want to exchange.

Driving on the same route as usual, you wait for Sarah’s usual routine of pressing on some random Taylor Swift song and standing through the sunroof of her car, but she remains sat in the passenger seat with a mindful expression etched onto her features.

“You okay, Sare?” You ask, taking your eyes off of the desolate road for a moment to glance at her as she hums in response.

“Me? Yeah, ‘course.” She mumbles and you know it’s not true which is why at the next turning that leads to an open space to park, you pull the car over so you can give her your full attention.

“Okay, fess up, you’ve been staring out of the window like you’re contemplating throwing yourself out of the car ever since we got into it.” You say, a slight tease to your tone to help lift her spirits but she simply offers a small smile.

“I want to ask you something…and I-I want you to keep an open mind, okay?” She says after a moments silence and you’re quick to nod, studying the side of her face intently as you wait for whatever thoughts have been bothering her.

“So, you know how you’re gay?” The words have you choking on a breath, eyes widening as you let out a laugh but by the serious look on her face you quickly simmer down.

“Uh yeah, that is uh what I am, big lover of women…why?” You say awkwardly, rubbing the back of your neck as Sarah fully turns to look at you now.

“I’ve been thinking that…I might want to like, you know, experiment…” she mumbles and you have to hold your breath to prevent you from choking on it again, “With uh girls…and since your my best friend and the only openly lesbian person I know I thought that maybe I’d…ask you.”

You both stare at eachother for a second, your mind is scrambling and reeling for a response as Sarah’s face becomes increasingly more red.

“I-it’s stupid I know but-“ She starts but you quickly cut her off.

“No, it’s not stupid I uh…I’d be- I mean sure, I’m happy you trust me enough to come to me about this.” You say, clearing your throat as you finish, you know deep down that this is only going to end in tears but if this is the one chance you get to love her without hiding it as much, you don’t want to give it up.

Sarah smiles as she nods in relief, “Yeah? I mean, it obviously won’t mean anything like feelings wise because we’re best friends it’s just like…friends with benefits?” She says and you hate the way your stomach drops slightly but you hide it from her, smiling as you nod.

“Yeah…sure.”

One month into yours and Sarah’s ‘nothing’ situation has you realising it isn’t really nothing. Sarah likes to say the two of you are nothing, pointing out she’s merely trying out new things and in turn your getting a good lay.

But the two of you clearly aren’t ‘nothing’ and that becomes increasingly obvious when one of the only people in the world you thought wouldn’t notice the underlying tension, did.

You know Sarah’s brother isn’t blind, he’s always been surprisingly observant and ever since he’d discovered you weren’t interested in men he’d ‘joked’ that you and Sarah would probably end up hooking up eventually.

You now also realise that he wasn’t exactly joking.

“You should call it off, y’know.” A voice sounds from behind where you’re sat on the deck chairs surrounding the large pool at Tannyhill, Sarah having gone inside to make the two of you drinks.

As you turn to see the source of the voice, you’re met with the sight of Rafe’s looming figure. Sunglasses are sat on his face so you can’t see his eyes as he looks at you but when you glance behind him briefly, you can see Sarah conversing with Topper in the kitchen.

“And you’re talking about…?” You trail off, quirking a brow at him as he snorts out a laugh and rounds your deck chair to sit on the one beside you.

“I think you know what I’m talking about, princess.” He states, lying back on his chair nonchalantly as you continue to look at him.

You swallow, you weren’t exactly afraid you and Sarah had been found out but you didn’t want to out her when she didn’t even properly know what her sexuality was yet.

Rafe continues when you remain silent, “I’m just sayin’ kid, I may be her brother but Sarah’s gonna fucking break your heart, she’s never been one to face her feelings.”

You immediately feel defensive, maybe it’s because you love her or maybe it’s because you yourself are in denial. “And you are?”

He lets out a chuckle at that, turning his head to look at you through his sunglasses “Never said I was.” Rafe states before adding, “That’s also how I know whatever it is y’all have going on, it’s gonna end badly, because like me…Sarah can’t face her feelings and she sure as shit is not gonna admit the fact that you love her.”

You don’t even have time to process his words because Sarah and Topper come walking back toward the pool, you turn back to your previous position as Rafe stares at you for a moment before he turns his head back toward the pool.

Sarah and Topper are laughing as she places your drinks on the near by table and an ugly feeling of jealousy coils in your gut as you watch the two of them, the way he stares down at her and the way she bats her eyelashes up at him.

You barely register Rafe’s mutter beside you, “So fucked.”

Sarah is kissing you sloppily, her legs wrapped around your waist as you hold her hips, everyone once in a while she lets out soft moans into the kiss before eventually she pulls away to check her phone that buzzes beside you.

You hate when she does that. You hate when she breaks away from you as though nothing at all is happening.

As her eyes flit over the screen you watch as she looks up at you before back down to her phone with a guilty expression,

“Topper?” You hum and she nods, climbing off of your lap and you follow her in standing up. Music is still blaring from downstairs and you feel dizzy from the way Sarah was just kissing you and the alcohol in your system.

“I’ll come find you later, yeah?” She mumbles, eyes not meeting yours before she’s gone out of the room before you can even blink.

She always does that, avoiding your gaze after the two of you had done something that branched away from ‘just friends’ because she couldn’t dare to face up to you and her own emotions.

You sigh, rolling your shoulders as you leave the room shortly after, slowly pushing past sweaty bodies and couples making out as you stumble down the stairs.

As you reach the bottom you come to a slow halt when your eyes latch onto something that makes your head spin.

Sarah kissing Topper. Topper kissing Sarah. Sarah’s kissing Topper. Topper’s kissing Sarah. Sarah’s kissing Topper? Topper’s kissing Sarah?

You feel sick, your heart beats violently in your ears and you can’t force your eyes away. You can’t do anything but stand and stare.

After a moment, Sarah’s eyes open while she and the dreaded boy continue to make out, said eyes dance over to where your stood and you think for a moment she looks guilty but before you can decipher the look…her full attention is back on Topper and you’re left looking like an absolute fool.

Sarah finds you around an hour later, stumbling over to where you are sat beside JJ, the two of you sharing a joint.

The Cameron girl smiles widely when she spots you, all but throwing herself to sit on your lap and your jaw ticks in annoyance which you know JJ notices immediately.

“Heyyy, I missed you.” She slurs, hands coming to tangle in your hair as she places a drunken kiss to your lips and then drags them down your neck as JJ clears his throat awkwardly.

“I’ll uh…catch you later.” He says, coming to stand and you nod your head in thanks, not missing the way his eyes all but scream that you have some serious explaining to do.

“Sarah…” You mutter, attempting to lightly draw the girl away from your neck but she doesn’t seem to budge so you pull her away with a slight bit more force and she looks at you with a pout that makes your heart stutter warmly in your chest.

“I think it’s time for-“ You begin but Sarah cuts you off.

“I’m sorry, about Top, I just…you give me all these crazy feelings and I needed them to stop.” She slurs drunkenly, hands coming to cup and squish your cheeks together. “It’s just the way I am, you’re my best friend and Topper’s like soooo sweet.”

Your heart feels like it’s about to plummet, you feel so humiliated but you know she’s drunk and you hope that she maybe remembers what she’s said in the morning but you know that won’t happen.

You gently remove her hands from your cheeks before you awkwardly pat them, “Well uh good luck with that.” You say, already knowing that whatever she was trying to do by kissing Topper was never going to work.

You knew first hand, you’d have to stop the world just to stop these feelings and that would never happen.

JJ Maybank was probably one of the only men on the planet you trusted whole heartedly, the boy was your best friend and you loved him like a brother.

Which is why you felt like an asshole for the way he’s looking at you right now.

“You’re tellin’ me kook prince, Rafe Cameron, knew about whatever little sexy mackin’ thing you got going on with Sarah Cameron before I did?” He says, eyebrows raised as his hands wave wildly around “Me? Your best friend, the guy who taught you how to give good head to a gir-“

“Okay! I get it, I’m sorry!” You say loudly, interrupting the route he was going, you know he’s not truly hurt that you didn’t tell him because it’s JJ.

“But seriously bro, what’re you gonna do? Because, not to ever say I agree with Cameron but, she’s totally gonna break your heart.” He rambles, taking a sip from his beer bottle as he comes to sit across from you on the dock the two of you are currently situated at, the dock at the Chateau.

“I don’t know…if it means I don’t have to lose her then maybe I’ll just keep doing it?” You say, shrugging as you watch JJ quirk a brow at you.

“First of all, that’s cliché as fuck, second of all this whole situation is not fair on you at all.” He states, gently nudging your foot with his own. “She’s usin’ you as like some sorta’ experiment and I get it’s hard to come to terms with who you are, I saw it first hand with you, but this shit ain’t fair bro…and it ain’t love.”

You don’t say anything to that, simply nodding as you swallow harshly, turning to look out at the small rippling waves of the water.

Sarah is sat on the sofa in the large living room of Tannyhill, eyes boring into the ceiling as she pays no mind to the show playing in the background on the tv.

The sound of her father walking in makes her turn her head and give him a small smile as he comes to sit across from her, ending the call he was on as he looks at her.

“You okay, sweetie?” Ward asks, eyes trained intently on Sarah who nibbles softly at her bottom lip.

“I- uh…yeah- I mean…I don’t know-“ She starts and before she can even get another word out, Ward is sat beside her and pulling his daughter into his arms before the tears fall down her cheeks.

“It’s okay, honey, it’s all gonna be okay.”

All Sarah can do is nod because she doesn’t believe that true, nothings okay with the fact that she could possibly lose you because she can’t understand why she’s feeling these things for you and she feels like her only option is to bail, because while she knows deep down you love her in a way that she’ll never understand…she also knows she’ll fuck it up.

Driving through the outer banks at sunset was yours and Sarah’s favourite thing to do together but now, with everything the two of you have been doing, you don’t think you can do these drives without the blinding feeling that nostalgia and Sarah give you.

You pull over similar to the time you did when Sarah brought her idea forward but on this occasion, you’re the one who can’t look at her.

“I’m gonna say something and…I just, need you to listen because…I can only gather so much strength to say it.” You croak out, not daring to look at her because you know she’s already crying and you can’t bear the fact that you could be inflicting pain on the girl you love.

“I love you Sarah…and I tried not to, I really did-“ You choke out, squeezing your eyes closed for a second before reopening them and continuing, “I think I’ve always loved you, before we even became what we are now, but this isn’t what love should be.”

You turn to her then, Sarah’s lips trembling as tears stream down her face and you fight the urge to lean over and take her into your arms.

If you did that, you’d never be able to end this.

“I know you’re confused but…I think you know, deep down, that whatever you feel toward me is real and you’re scared to acknowledge that.” You point out and Sarah lets out a shaky breath at your words.

“You’re my best friend, of course I feel things toward you-“ She attempts to say and you shake your head as you cut her off.

“We’re not just friends, Sarah.” You note, running a hand over your face as the girl beside you crosses her arms over her chest.

“I’m not gay.” She says, her tone so unsure yet so confident that you almost feel guilty for some unknown reason. Guilty for what, exactly? You don’t know, maybe for ending whatever it is you had going on alongside your friendship.

“Come on Sarah-“ You try and she immediately shuts you down, eyes now more angry then they are sad which makes you feel like you physically recoil at the change.

“No, y/n! You’re not making me into something I’m not, just because you’re gay doesn’t mean I have to be too!” She snaps, her words slicing through you violently as you feel a pit of shame curl up in your stomach “I experimented and now I know for sure now I’m not…whatever it is I thought I was.”

You know she’s building up to something so you close your eyes in anticipation for the blow she’s undoubtedly about to deliver.

“Besides, I’m with Topper now so...” You exhale as she says the words, as though she’d physically hit you in the stomach and winded you before you let out a light scoff.

You look to her, her eyes wide and defensive. You simply shake your head before opening the car door, “Topper,” You begin, letting out another scoff before you begin to step out of the car, “Good luck, babe.”

Four months after yours and Sarah’s conversation and while you haven’t heard from her, you have heard from Rafe. The Cameron man informing you that Topper and Sarah are having a very…turbulent relationship.

Rafe knows you were the one to end things with his sister, he and JJ being the only ones to actively know that something was going on between you and Sarah. With the exception of Ward who was left to guess what was plaguing his daughter’s thoughts over the last few months.

You feel a form of sympathy as the way everyone only refers to Sarah as ‘Toppers girl’ now. You know you shouldn’t be surprised at it, she never leaves his side and you realised it was her way of trying to prove to herself and to you that whatever feelings she had weren’t romantic.

You knew better and deep down so did she.

As you sit with your friends on the HMS Pogue, sailing across the water you catch sight of Topper’s boat when JJ starts geeking out over the model and price of it.

You also notice Sarah beside him, her face screaming out how unhappy she is without her even needing to say it.

And when your eyes meet hers, you see the unhappiness in her gaze. The facade she puts up and parades around under only extends to so many people and you are not one of them, you know Sarah so deeply and you also know that whatever she’s attempting to prove with Topper isn’t working for her.

And as your two boats come in line with one another, slowly passing, you mime toward the Cameron girl…words you hate to say but you do anyway,

“I told you so.”

#sarah cameron #sarah cameron x reader #sarah cameron x you #sarah cameron x female reader #outer banks #good luck babe #chappell roan #wlw post #wlw #outer banks pogues #obx #Spotify

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panakinthedisco · 3 months

Text

PART 1 | HEAVEN ━━ Marcus Acacius

summary: acacius' mother forged a blood pact with the goddess of love, vowing to safeguard and elevate her son, while dedicating her life as a delphi in return. through all general acacius' triumphs, you as the daughter of venus deftly orchestrated his victory as promised but then gradually nurturing a forbidden attachment.

author's note: don't get me started how i almost died with the trailer and the photos of papi pedroooooo so i had to do this (also i can use my greek mythology knowledge for some good use) so yup reader is an immortal goddess and possibly daughter of venus, idfc anymore because i'm making my own lore! they're going to be arwen and aragorn-esque ending coz i eat those kind of tropes lmfao

warnings: eventual smut to later chapters. mentions of misogyny, violence and also implications of sexual abuse.

word count: 4.4k

In the heart of a desolate village, a young woman stood at the fringes of society, shunned and abandoned for bearing the child of a powerful general. Clutching her infant son tightly to her chest, she wandered aimlessly, her heart heavy with despair and fear. The whispers of the villagers echoed in her mind, a cacophony of judgment and scorn. Tears streamed down her face as she made her way to the grand temple of Venus, the goddess of love, her last beacon of hope.

The temple, with its towering marble columns and intricate carvings, loomed before her like a sanctuary in the midst of her turmoil. The air grew thick with an impending storm as she fell to her knees at the entrance, her cries piercing the silence of the sacred place. "Great Venus, goddess of love and mercy," she sobbed, her voice trembling, "I beg of you, protect my son and guide us, for we have nowhere else to go. I fear for his life, for he is innocent."

As her desperate pleas echoed within the hallowed halls, the wind suddenly picked up, swirling around her with a fierce intensity. The sky darkened, and the deafening roar of thunder cracked through the air. In the midst of this tempest, a radiant light descended upon the temple. From the ethereal glow emerged a figure of unparalleled beauty, clothed in pure white robes that flowed like water.

Venus, the goddess of love, knelt before the fallen woman. Her presence was divine, her skin like alabaster, flawless and luminous. Her eyes, a captivating shade of deep blue, held the wisdom of the ages and the compassion of a thousand hearts. Golden hair cascaded down her back in waves, shimmering as if woven from sunlight. A gentle smile graced her lips, exuding warmth and serenity.

"Rise, my child," Venus spoke, her voice a melodious symphony that filled the air with hope. "Do not despair, for I have heard your cries and felt your anguish. I can offer you and your son protection, but it comes with a price. You must dedicate your life to me, serve as my devotee, and in return, I shall ensure your son’s safety and guide you both to a brighter future."

The young woman, overwhelmed by the goddess's presence and her words, gazed into the loving eyes of Venus. With unwavering determination and gratitude, she nodded. "I will do as you ask, great goddess. My life is yours to command, if it means my son will be safe."

Venus gently lifted the woman to her feet, her touch tender and reassuring. "Then it shall be so. From this moment forth, you are under my protection. Fear not, for love shall guide your path, and together, we shall overcome all obstacles."

With that, the storm subsided, leaving behind a serene sky. The young woman, now filled with renewed hope and purpose, cradled her son as they both embraced the divine path laid before them by the goddess of love.

Years had gone by, the once forsaken young woman found solace and purpose as a devoted Delphi. She served with unwavering faith, her every breath a testament to the sacred bond she had formed with the goddess of love. Her son, Acacius, grew under the protective aegis of the temple, receiving the finest education and training from the wise sorceresses who resided there. His days were filled with rigorous training and study, molding him into a formidable warrior.

One golden afternoon, the courtyard of the temple buzzed with activity. Acacius, now a young man of remarkable prowess, moved with grace and strength as he sparred with his fellow trainees. His body, chiseled and powerful, gleamed with sweat under the sun. Every muscle in his arms and chest rippled with the precision and control honed through years of discipline. His jawline was sharp, his dark hair tousled, and his piercing eyes focused, exuding an aura of confidence and determination.

From a distance, Venus, resplendent in her divine beauty, emerged from the temple accompanied by you, her daughter. Venus’ robes flowed like liquid moonlight, and her presence illuminated the courtyard. While you, whose divine essence shimmered with an ethereal glow, stood by your mother’s side, your eyes subtly observing Acacius as he trained vigorously.

"Look at him, my daughter," Venus spoke, her voice a soothing melody. "Acacius’ mother devoted her life to serving as a Delphi, and it is now your duty to watch over him. He has grown into a man of great potential."

You were hesitant and prideful, replied, "Mother, surely I am capable of far more important tasks than merely watching over a mortal."

Venus laughed, "Ah, my dear, I see great things in Acacius. I made an unbreakable oath to his mother to protect him and guide him to victory. This task is of utmost importance, and you, my daughter, are perfectly suited for it."

Reluctantly, you agreed, though you felt the weight of the responsibility. As Venus gracefully returned to the temple, your gaze lingered on Acacius. You had watched him grow from a vulnerable child into the powerful warrior he had become. His masculine form, sculpted by relentless training, was a testament to his dedication and strength. His broad shoulders, strong arms, and defined torso were a sight to behold, each movement exuding a raw, magnetic energy.

As the daughter of Venus, you had spent millennia observing the ways of mortals. From the heights of the celestial realm to the depths of human existence, you had witnessed the endless cycles of birth, love, ambition, and vanity that defined their ephemeral lives. Mortal men, in particular, seemed ensnared by their own reflections, driven by a relentless pursuit of power, beauty, and validation. Their obsessions with vanity, you mused, were like chains binding them to an endless quest for an ever-elusive perfection.

In the sanctity of your divine solitude, you pondered these thoughts, your mind weaving through the countless interactions you had with mortals over the ages. Vanity, you concluded, was a double-edged sword. It spurred men to greatness but also led them to their downfall. How often have you seen warriors, poets, and kings, their hearts consumed by the desire for eternal youth, adoration, and glory? They built monuments to themselves, adorned their bodies in opulent garb, and sought the fleeting approval of their peers, all the while neglecting the deeper virtues of humility, wisdom, and compassion.

Living among mortals, you had grown accustomed to their ways, understanding the fragile nature of their existence. Yet, with each passing century, you have grown more disillusioned by their unchanging flaws. Despite the wisdom imparted by time and the guidance of the gods, mortals remained predictably obsessed with their own image.

When your mother, Venus, entrusted you with the responsibility of watching over Acacius, you could not help but feel a familiar pang of skepticism. Was he not just another man, destined to be ensnared by the same vanities as those before him? Despite his formidable strength and the disciplined mind he had cultivated, you feared that beneath his heroic exterior lay the same vulnerabilities that had claimed countless others.

As you observed Acacius from the shadows, your thoughts grew heavier. You remembered how, as a boy, he had shown signs of the same traits that plagued mortal men: the pride in his burgeoning strength, the flicker of arrogance in his victories, and the longing in his eyes for recognition and admiration. He seemed no different from the countless men who had walked the earth, striving for greatness yet ultimately ensnared by their own hubris.

Your divine heart, though swayed by eons of witnessing human folly, felt a curious twinge as she watched him. There was something about Acacius, a glimmer of potential, that both made you intrigued and worried. Could he break the cycle? Or would he, too, succumb to the inevitable downfall of vanity?

As you silently vowed to fulfill her mother’s promise, you found yourself grappling with an unexpected sense of protectiveness. Despite your reservations, there was an undeniable bond formed by watching him grow, a reluctant admiration for his resilience and strength. You feared for him, not because you doubted his abilities, but because she understood the weight of his mortality.

With a sigh, you resigned yourself to the task. "Acacius may be like other men," you thought, "but perhaps there lies within him a spark of something more." You would watch over him, guide him, and protect him from the shadows, ever vigilant and ever hopeful that he might transcend the very vanities that ensnared his kind. As the daughter of Venus, you knew that love and duty were bound by unbreakable threads, and you would honor them both, even if it meant confronting your own doubts and fears.

As you observed him and embedded in your own thoughts, Acacius suddenly paused and turned his head, his sharp eyes meeting yours across the courtyard. Startled, you quickly retreated into the shadows, your divine essence blending with the darkened corners of the temple.

Hidden from view, your heart pounded. You realized the gravity of your new role, feeling a mixture of trepidation and an unspoken bond with the man she would protect and guide. As Acacius resumed his training, unaware of the divine eyes watching over him, you knew this won’t be an easy responsibility.

As the daughter of Venus, you have watched over Acacius from the shadows, your divine presence hidden but your influence ever-present. From the moment he drew his sword, you felt the weight of your mother's promise pressing upon your shoulders, a vow to guide and protect him, to steer him towards greatness. Acacius was more than a mortal; he was the culmination of a divine pact, and your duty to him was as sacred as the bond forged between his mother and Venus.

In his youth, you whispered wisdom into the ears of his mentors, guiding their hands as they trained him in the arts of war and leadership. You ensured that the best teachers found their way to him, that he learned not only the strategies of battle but also the virtues of honor, compassion, and justice. Through subtle interventions, you shaped his character, molding him into a man worthy of the destiny laid before him.

As he grew, so did the challenges he faced. You were there in the thick of his battles, unseen but ever vigilant. During his early skirmishes, you would nudge his instincts, sharpening his reflexes and lending him the strength he needed to overcome his foes. When he faltered, you were the whisper of encouragement that steeled his resolve, the invisible hand that steadied his sword.

In the grand halls of strategy and politics, you guided his thoughts, helping him navigate the treacherous waters of Roman ambition. You planted seeds of wisdom in his mind, urging him to form alliances that would strengthen his position, to make decisions that would earn him the respect of his peers and the loyalty of his men. You were the unseen force that smoothed the path before him, ensuring that every step he took led him closer to his destiny.

When he was appointed as a general under Maximus Decimus Meridius, you knew that your efforts were bearing fruit. Acacius had become a formidable leader, his name spoken with reverence and fear across the empire. Yet, his journey was far from over. Under the rule of Emperor Geta and his co-Augusti, Caracalla, Acacius faced new trials. The invasion of Caledonia was a test of his mettle, a crucible that would forge his legacy.

As the Romans prepared for their campaign, you took on the guise of a tradesman’s daughter in Caledonia, positioning yourself to be near him, to watch over him more closely. The battles were fierce, and the land was unforgiving. You ensured that crucial information reached him at the right moments, that his strategies were sound and his decisions unerring. You softened the hearts of those who might have betrayed him, turned the tides of fortune in his favor.

Through the years, you have been his silent guardian, his invisible ally. You have seen him rise from a young warrior to a revered general, each victory a testament to the bond you honored. Even now, as you stand among the captured townspeople, disguised and hidden, your purpose remains unchanged. You are here to protect him, to guide him, and to ensure that he fulfills the destiny that was promised.

In the moments when doubt clouded his heart, you were the light that pierced the darkness. When he faced insurmountable odds, you were the strength that carried him through. You have watched over him with a mixture of pride and affection, your heart swelling with each triumph and breaking with each loss. Acacius is more than just a mortal; he is a living embodiment of the divine promise you are bound to uphold.

Amidst the chaos of the Roman invasion of Caledonia, the air was thick with smoke and the cries of the conquered. The formidable General Acacius, now a seasoned leader under Emperor Geta and his co-Augusti, Caracalla, surveyed the battlefield with a steely gaze. His once youthful visage was now marked by the scars of countless battles, his presence commanding and unwavering.

In the midst of the turmoil, you risked disguising as a daughter of a tradesman, moved with quiet resolve. Clad in the coarse, earth-toned garb of a peasant, she blended seamlessly with the captured townspeople. Yet, even in your humble attire, your divine essence could not be wholly concealed. Your skin, a flawless alabaster, stood out against the grime and soot of the war-torn village. Your eyes, a striking shade of hazel, gleamed with an unearthly light, and your movements, though tempered to appear modest, held an innate grace that betrayed your true nature.

The Roman soldiers, drunk on victory, rounded up the women of Caledonia, separating them from their families with ruthless efficiency. Among the throng, the disguised goddess maintained a facade of fear and helplessness, your heart pounding as she witnessed the suffering of the innocent. The brutality of the soldiers, their coarse laughter, and lecherous gazes made you shudder inwardly, but you knew you must maintain your cover.

General Acacius, his mind burdened with the responsibilities of command, scanned the scene with a practiced eye. His soldiers were securing the captives, ensuring the spoils of war were collected. His gaze fell upon the group of captured women, and for a moment, he saw them as mere pawns in the grand scheme of conquest. But then, his eyes landed on you.

Despite your plain clothing, something about you stood out. Your skin, untouched by the harshness of the elements, was too smooth, too luminous for a common peasant. Your hair, though partially hidden beneath a simple headscarf, shone with a subtle, otherworldly luster. You moved with a quiet dignity, your posture erect even in the face of despair. Acacius's sharp eyes missed nothing, maybe a nobility pretending to be a peasant so they can escape from the invasion. He finds it as a clever tactic.

As one of his soldiers, emboldened by the chaos, approached her with lecherous intent, Acacius felt a surge of anger. The soldier, a brutish figure, reached out to grasp your arm, his intentions clear. Before he could lay a hand on you, Acacius's voice rang out, authoritative and cold.

"Stand down," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. The soldier froze, his hand hovering in the air. "Do not touch her."

The soldier, taken aback, stammered a protest, "But, General, she's just a—"

"Bring her to me," Acacius cut him off, his gaze fixed on the disguised goddess. "Now."

The soldier, reluctant but obedient, withdrew his hand and roughly pushed you forward. You stumbled slightly but quickly regained your balance, your eyes meeting Acacius with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. As you were brought before him, he could see the subtle details that marked you as different: the refinement in your features, the intelligence in your eyes, the air of quiet strength exuded within you.

"Who are you?" Acacius asked, his voice softer but still commanding. "You do not belong here, do you?"

You hesitated, you mind racing to craft a plausible response. "I am the daughter of a tradesman," you said, your voice steady despite the fear you felt. "Captured like the others. Please, I mean no harm."

Acacius studied you for a long moment, his instincts telling him there was more to your story. "Take her to my tent," Acacius declared, his voice carrying an edge of finality. "She will be my personal cupbearer."

The soldiers, recognizing the unwavering tone of their general, nodded in agreement. They stepped back, leaving you untouched. Acacius's gaze softened slightly as he looked at you, a mixture of curiosity and protectiveness in his eyes.

"Find her something clean to wear," he instructed, his tone gentle yet firm.

Two soldiers led you through the encampment, their grip on your arms firm but not harsh. They guided you to the lavish tent of General Acacius, a striking contrast to the roughness of the battlefield outside. The tent was grand, its exterior adorned with rich fabrics and ornate decorations. Inside, it was a sanctuary of luxury and comfort amidst the chaos of war.

The interior of the tent was spacious, with plush carpets covering the ground and opulent cushions scattered around. Rich tapestries adorned the walls, depicting scenes of Roman victories and mythological grandeur. A large, intricately carved wooden table stood at the center, laden with an array of sumptuous food and fine wine. The scent of incense filled the air, mingling with the aroma of roasted meats and freshly baked bread.

As you stood in the middle of the tent, feeling the weight of her disguise, General Acacius entered. His armor gleamed in the soft light of the tent, and his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. He moved with the confidence of a seasoned warrior, yet there was a gentleness in his approach.

"Sit with me," he said, gesturing to the cushions by the table.

You hesitated but complied, lowering yourself onto the soft cushions. Acacius sat across from you, his gaze never leaving yours like a lion observing his prey. He offered you a plate of food, the array of delicacies a testament to the wealth and power he commanded.

"Please, eat," he urged, but you shook your head, declining politely.

"I’m not hungry, my Lord," you explained, your voice steady.

Acacius leaned back, studying you intently. "What kind of business does your father have?"

You took a breath, weaving the story you had prepared. "My father is a tradesman, specializing in silk. We travel far and wide, even to the distant lands of China, to procure the finest silk. He sells it to the emperor and to those of noble birth."

Acacius nodded, intrigued. "A tradesman of silk, you say? But then, you do not seem like a mere peasant."

You lowered your eyes, the weight of your divine secret heavy upon you. "We have faced many hardships, but my father has always ensured that we present ourselves with dignity."

Acacius leaned forward, his gaze unwavering. "Tell me," he said, his voice low and measured, "does your family live in Caledonia?"

Your heart is pounding. "Yes," you replied, your voice steady. "We come from an impoverished background. My father sought to make a better life for us through his trade."

Acacius studied you closely, his eyes dark and intense. As he reached for a cluster of grapes, he popped one into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. The act, so casual and yet so intimate, made your pulse quicken. His scrutiny was unrelenting, and you felt as though he could see through the layers of your disguise.

"You should know," he began, his tone carrying a note of warning, "that the nobility of Caledonia will be captured. There is no escape for them."

You remained silent, her expression carefully neutral. You knew he was testing you, probing for any signs of deceit. His words, though intended to intimidate, also carried a hint of concern.

"My soldiers are ruthless," he continued, his voice growing colder. "They would take advantage of you if given the chance."

You nodded silently, acknowledging the gravity of his warning. Your heart ached at the thought of the suffering around you, but you knew she had to maintain your composure.

As Acacius spoke, the flap of the tent was pushed aside, and a soldier entered, carrying a bundle of fresh clothes. They were simple but clean, likely taken from a Caledonian household. The soldier handed the bundle to Acacius, who thanked him with a curt nod.

"Here," Acacius said, extending the clothes to you. "Put these on."

You rose from your seat and took the bundle obediently, your fingers brushing against his for the briefest moment. The contact sent a shiver through you, a reminder of the thin line she walked between mortal and divinity.

"You may change behind the screen," he said, gesturing to a beautifully carved wooden partition that provided a modicum of privacy within the tent.

You nodded and moved behind the screen, the fabric rustling softly as you slipped out of your peasant clothes. The new garments were a marked improvement, though still modest. As you dressed, you could feel Acacius's presence just beyond the screen, his protective aura enveloping you like a shield.

When you emerged, you found him watching you intently, his eyes reflecting a mixture of curiosity and something deeper, something you could not quite name. The new clothes fit you well, accentuating your grace and poise even in their simplicity.

"Better," he murmured, his voice softening. "You look more like the person you claim to be."

You offered a faint smile, lowering her gaze. "Thank you."

Days passed, and you, now working as a cupbearer in General Acacius's camp, endeavored to maintain your humble facade. Despite your best efforts to appear as an ordinary servant, your innate grace and poise occasionally betrayed your true nature. Acacius, ever observant, began to notice the subtle refinement in your movements, the way you carried yourself with a dignity that spoke of nobility.

Your body language, though deliberately subdued, hinted at a life of privilege and education. You moved with an elegance that seemed out of place in the rough-and-tumble environment of a military camp. The way you poured water into cups, the delicate curve of your fingers as you handled the pitchers, all bespoke a background far removed from the impoverished tale you had spun.

One afternoon, a group of generals gathered in Acacius's lavish tent for a luncheon. As you silently poured water into their cups, you could feel the weight of their gazes upon you. The generals, their voices booming with laughter and boasts, paid little heed to the solemnity of their surroundings. One of them, a burly man with a coarse beard, eyed you with a lecherous grin.

"Acacius," he called out, his voice thick with drink, "is your cupbearer good in bed?"

The tent erupted in raucous laughter, the crude jest echoing off the walls. Acacius, seated at the head of the table, narrowed his eyes. His gaze hardened, and he fixed the offending general with a stern look.

"Such things are not to be discussed," he said, his tone carrying a quiet authority that silenced the laughter.

The general, still chuckling, raised his hands in mock surrender. "Ah, Acacius, always so reserved. You'd do well to indulge a bit more."

The disguised goddess watched the exchange with keen interest, your heart pounding. You knew Acacius's character well, having observed him for years. You despised these gatherings, these displays of vanity and ego. He found no pleasure in the idle boasts of his peers, preferring the company of his own thoughts and strategies.

As you continued your duties, pouring water and refilling cups, you could sense Acacius's discomfort. He was a man of action, a warrior with a clear sense of purpose. These luncheons, with their empty chatter and frivolous banter, were a stark contrast to the disciplined life he led. You admired his restraint, his ability to maintain his composure in the face of such provocation.

The generals continued their revelry, their conversations shifting from one boast to another. They spoke of past victories, of conquests and spoils, their voices a cacophony of pride and self-importance. Acacius, though present in body, seemed distant, his mind likely focused on the next battle, the next challenge.

As you moved around the table, you caught his eye for a brief moment. In that instant, you saw a flicker of something deeper, a connection that transcended. You knew that he valued substance over show, strategy over vanity. His reluctance to engage in their crude jests and hollow boasts only endeared him to you more.

The luncheon dragged on, the generals growing more boisterous with each passing moment. Acacius, ever the disciplined leader, maintained his stoic demeanor, responding to their jibes with measured patience. You could see the tension in his posture, the tightness in his jaw, and felt a pang of empathy.

As the daughter of Venus, you had always found mortal men to be easily swayed by vanity and ambition. They are like clay, molded by the hands of society and their peers, their true selves often buried beneath layers of ego and pride. But Acacius is different. Despite the pressures and temptations that come with his rank, he remains steadfast and true to his values. You're secretly proud of him, of the strength he shows in resisting the crudeness and arrogance that so often define his comrades.

That evening, after the generals had left and the camp had settled into a quiet lull, you found Acacius outside his tent, gazing up at the night sky. The stars twinkled above, their light casting a gentle glow on his strong, chiseled features. There was a tranquility in the air, a moment of peace amidst the chaos of war.

You approached him silently, your heart swelling with admiration for the man he had become. "Thank you for everything, My Lord," you said softly, breaking the silence.

He turned to look at you, his eyes reflecting the starlight. "You don’t need to thank me," he replied, his voice steady.

You nodded, understanding the brusqueness of his words. "Even so, I am forever grateful."

As you turned to return to the tent, you could feel his gaze lingering on you. There was a mystery in his eyes, a curiosity that you knew he could not easily dispel. You wondered what he saw when he looked at you—this woman who appeared from nowhere, cloaked in the guise of a humble servant yet betraying hints of refinement and grace.

CONTINUE READING: PART 2 | PART 3 ━━ AVAILABLE ON AO3

☆ MASTERLIST | NAVIGATION | SOCIALS | SIGN OFF BANNER MADE BY. @ALDERAANDORS ☆

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ayamago · 3 months

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𝟎𝟏 | 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔

Pairing: Qimir x Female Reader

Summary: He keeps to himself and avoids others, yet he takes a strong interest in you. Stranded as a disillusioned Padawan on a mysterious island, you meet Qimir, a dark sider who begins to intrigue you deeply. Spending time together, you find yourself drawn to Qimir in ways that make you question your morals.

Back to 𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃 & 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒?

𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄-𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐍𝐄-𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐃, save for your lone figure seated gracefully upon the wet sand. Rain cascaded down from the somber sky, draping the scene in a veil of mist and melancholy. You sat cross-legged, your hands clenched in your lap, shoulders hunched forward against the downpour. The storm of emotions from your argument with Qimir still raged within you, leaving you uncaring of the cold seeping through your drenched clothes.

You had heard many unsettling tales about the dark side of the Force, stories that left you questioning its nature. Why, you wondered, did they preach detachment from emotions that made them human — emotions so raw and beautiful? It was Qimir, the stranger, who stirred these doubts within you. His words hinted at a different perspective, one where passion and power were not condemned but celebrated. Could it be, you pondered, that there was truth in what he said? That perhaps the path to understanding the Force wasn't through suppression but through embracing all aspects of oneself, even those that others feared?

You cursed your mind for entertaining such thoughts, fearing that questioning the Jedi teachings could lead to your exile. No, you knew it undoubtedly would. Yet despite the looming threat of ostracism, you couldn't suppress your curiosity. The stranger's unsettling words continued to echo in your mind, challenging everything you had been taught about the Force. The storm's relentless downpour mirrored the turmoil within you as you sat on the desolate beach. You dared to seek out the truth, not through the Jedi's strict rules of detachment, but through embracing the emotions that made you human — raw and beautiful, yet forbidden.

Lost in deep thought, you hadn’t noticed Qimir’s quiet approach. The rain enveloped you in its chaotic embrace, and he observed you with a concerned expression. He had approached silently, concerned that you might fall ill from running out into the downpour. Mixed with this worry was a feeling of guilt for pushing you to the point where escaping him seemed necessary. His unexpected presence startled you, disrupting the solitude of the beach and the turmoil within. You wondered if your hasty departure had stirred concern in him, if his coming to find you meant he cared for you in his own way. Despite feeling uneasy, you couldn’t stay mad at him for long, especially since you were both stranded together on the island.

"I knew I'd find you here," he whispered quietly, his words not lost on you as you heard him.

"I wasn't attempting to hide from you, I just needed space," you say, matter-of-factly. Though your tone is calm, there's a hint of lingering frustration. "Being close to you wasn't helping clear my head."

You could tell by the way he was staring at you that he was lost in thought. Was it your beauty that captivated him, or was he considering broaching the very topic that had driven you away? You suspected it was the former. He chewed the inside of his cheek, a habit you had noticed whenever he was uncertain. The two of you had been stranded on this island for three weeks now. While it might seem like a short time to him, it felt like a lifetime to you. During your time together, he had discovered many things about you. One of the most notable traits being your determination to explore every corner of the island, searching for a way off. It was clear to him that your eagerness to find an escape route stemmed not just from a desire to leave the island, but also from a growing discomfort with being near him, almost as if you harbored a deep resentment toward him.

"Do you hate me, [Your Name]?" He asked, sitting down next to you on the wet sand, unconcerned about getting wet from the downpour. "Sometimes it seems like you do."

The question caught you off guard, and as you began to speak to formulate a response, he cut you off again. "I know we don't always see eye to eye, or ever, on our beliefs. But I didn't come out here to discuss the Jedi Order or anything related to it. I came because I was genuinely worried about you getting sick."

As you looked at him, your heart beat rapidly, its rhythm drowning out the sound of the pouring rain. You wondered if he could hear it too, if perhaps even the gods could hear it. You felt like a jerk; despite being stuck on the island together for so long, you had never made an effort to truly understand him. Often, you kept your distance not out of hatred, but because you couldn't comprehend his choices. Why the dark side, you pondered, yet at the same time, you found yourself understanding aspects of his perspective. It was all so confusing.

"I don't hate you, Qimir," you said softly, turning your gaze back to the ocean ahead. Your cheeks warmed, and you felt a rush of heat through your body. "I just. . . I don't understand you, and that scares me."

"I want an Acolyte, the power of two: a master and his pupil," he stated. "To be free, to live as I see fit. The Jedi Order doesn’t agree with that," he explained, as if seeking to bridge the gap between you two, helping you understand him better.

“Maybe there’s more to the Force than what the Jedi teach,” you pondered aloud, cautiously testing the waters. “Could you show me? Teach me how you see it?”

"Yes, I would like that, [Your Name]," he said softly, his words flowing like honey wine. Standing up, he brushed off his soaked clothes. Looking down at you, a faint blush painted his cheeks as he extended his hand. "Come on, I don't want you catching a cold."

As you take his hand, he draws you close to his chest, leaning in so his lips brush against your ear as he whispers, "And earlier, you said being close to me wasn’t helping clear your head. I didn’t realize I had that much of an affect on you, my flower."

“In your dreams, Qimir,” you say, trying to pull away from his grasp. But before you can, he plants a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Qi. . . Qimir, what are you doing?”

"I just wanted you to know that I cherish you, [Your Name], so please give me a chance. Love someone who's willing to go as deeply as you can.”

#qimir x reader #qimir the acolyte #x reader #the acolyte #star wars #star wars x reader #qimir x you #qimir fic #oneshot

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cyberneticfallout · 5 months

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Chapter Three: The Gulper

Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7 - Ch 8 - Ch 9 - Ch 10 - More Coming Soon

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Reader Summary: As you continue your journey, you encounter the vault dweller and chaos ensues. Tags: Slow burn (and I mean SLOWWW), angst, eventual smut, language, canon-typical violence, more tags will be added Posted on AO3: Smoothie and The Ghoul Word Count: 1.8k

Emerging from your slumber, a thin layer of mist clings to your skin, casting a damp chill upon the early morning air. Your back protests from the uncomfortable night's rest on the flat, hard ground, but you shake off the discomfort with a determined grimace. After all, you've endured far worse over the years through the wasteland.

Shaking off the grogginess, you cast a quick glance around the campsite. The ghoul remains peacefully asleep, barely distinguishable in the dim light of the approaching dawn. With the sky gradually brightening, you determine that it's time to start your preparations for the day.

You rise from your makeshift bedroll, stretching your tired muscles and seeking relief from the stiffness that plagues your body. The calmness of the early morning wraps around you, broken only by distant echoes of the wasteland stirring to life.

As you collect your belongings, a soft chittering echoes in the air, instantly grabbing the dog's attention as her ears perk up. The dim light of dawn shrouds the surroundings, making it challenging to discern the source of the sound. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch sight of a radroach creeping ever closer to the slumbering ghoul.

Without hesitation, you instinctively grab hold of the pistol within your reach, taking aim at the approaching bug. The air shudders as two resounding shots tear through it, bringing a swift death to the radroach. The ghoul jolts awake, his head snapping towards you with a look of surprise… and annoyance?

"Can't you see I'm sleepin'?" he calls out, his voice twinged with irritation.

You respond, feigning a gasp and mockingly clutching your chest. "Oh, I do apologize, mister! How thoughtless of me not to realize you had scheduled to be a feast for a radroach!"

He grumbles, rising to his feet. "Shut up. You think I didn't see it comin'?"

"You looked dead asleep," you remark.

"I always look dead," he mutters.

"Oh I don't know about that," you retort, a mischievous smirk gracing your face. "Sometimes you look like a sun-dried tato."

"You're damn lucky you have what I need..."

"Well, lucky for you, I happen to have a soft spot for sun-dried tatos," you quip, trying to lighten the mood. He raises an eyebrow, a faint hint of amusement breaking through his facade of annoyance. He grunts, a sound that could be mistaken for a chuckle if you weren't aware of his generally sour disposition.

“You're a strange one, you know that?" he rasps, scratching the back of his head. With a chuckle, you start packing up the rest of your belongings, the early morning sun casting long shadows around you.

“Come on, let’s go find the rest of him.”

As you venture further into the wasteland, the sun climbs higher in the sky, casting harsh shadows and intensifying the heat around you. The landscape is a mix of desolate terrain and remnants of the old world, twisted and broken by time and neglect.

The ghoul trudges alongside you, his footsteps heavy but determined. Meanwhile, the dog is trotting ahead, sniffing the air and occasionally darting off to investigate something in the distance. The wasteland is eerily quiet, save for the occasional rustle of debris or distant howl of a mutated creature. You remain vigilant, scanning the horizon for any signs of danger.

Hours pass by and you notice a subtle change in the landscape. It slowly turns greener and the air feels a bit cooler. With each step you take, the transformation becomes more noticeable. The harsh, barren landscape is gradually replaced by patches of greenery. Sparse vegetation starts to spring up, providing some relief from the relentless heat. The dog, too, seems to appreciate the change, wagging her tail more often and darting around with renewed energy. Even the ghoul seems less weary, his heavy steps lightening a bit.

Rustling in the foliage caught your attention, followed by a swift blur of a vault jumpsuit sprinting past. It seems the ghoul was right about her not getting far. The ghoul glances at you and nods toward the direction she had fled. The three of you quicken your pace and find her sitting on the ground, a look of panic etched on her face.

"Hello again," he drawls as he lifts his gun and cocks it. "Where is it? The head."

The vault dweller turns slowly to the gun pointed at her, her appearance striking. With dark hair, a flawlessly sculpted face, and the largest eyes you've ever seen in your life, she exudes an air of innocence and vulnerability. "I-I don't know where it is, okay? I lost it. I lost it," she stammers, her voice trembling with fear and desperation.

She watches you rummage through her bag, a look of disbelief crossing her face at your audacity. Finding only provisions, you stand up and survey the flooded ruins around you. With a grim tone, you mutter, "A gulper got it."

"A gulper got it, huh?" The ghoul chuckles darkly before swiftly knocking out the vault dweller with the butt of his gun. You raise an eyebrow at him as he hoists her over his shoulder and carries her to a nearby dock. There, he starts securing her with a contraption that appears to be for waterboarding.

"So, uh... what's the plan here?" you ask.

"Gonna use her as bait," the ghoul replies matter-of-factly.

"Bait? For the gulper?" you muse, considering the plan. "That's actually a pretty solid plan."

You watch with a mix of curiosity and unease as the vault dweller slowly regains consciousness. With a quick tug on a rope, he sends her plummeting into the water below. After nearly thirty seconds, he decides to pull her back up via a makeshift pulley system.

"Please stop!" she cries out, spitting out water. "My dad is an overseer. He got taken by raiders and I need that head to save him. If you help me find him, he'll do anything you ask."

Ignoring her pleas, the ghoul sends her back into the water and whistles for the gulper as the dog barks in protest. It's clear he doesn't care about her father's position. As he hoists her out of the water again, she pleads, "Stop. Stop! Torture is wrong."

"You know, they used to do these things called ‘studies’. You couldn’t open a newspaper without reading about one study or another," the ghoul begins, the geiger counter on her Pip-Boy clicking. "Anyway, this one particular study came out, and it said that torturing a person don’t do shit."

He submerges her once more, turning to you, "It made sense. I mean, a man hurts me, I wouldn’t want to do him any favors. And yet the practice of torture failed to vanish from this earth. In fact, as time marched on, I’ve personally noticed a decided uptick in the amount of torture being doled out across the board."

The vault dweller coughs and gasps for air as she’s brought back up. "Sir, please, I need the head. It’s the only way I can get my father back."

"Still so polite... calling you sir," you quietly chuckle to yourself as you approach her, her drenched body shivering in protest. Leaning in close, you whisper, "You're a long way from home, Vaultie. You shouldn't be out here. Daddy's probably already dead, if I'm being honest.”

"My point is...” He interrupts and you step back, “If you ask me, them studies, they was right. Torturin’ a person don’t do shit.”

"Then why are you doing this to me?!” she screams.

"Well, I ain’t torturin’ you, sweetheart. I’m using you as bait,” he explains before plunging her into the water once again. You can't help but feel a slight hint of annoyance at him calling her "sweetheart".

You shake your head, trying to push aside the unreasonable jealousy that bubbles within you. The ghoul's actions can be seen as despicable, the vault dweller's plight heart-wrenching, and yet here you are, fixating on such a trivial detail. You chide yourself for feeling envious over a term of endearment. It’s a bizarre reaction, one that you begin to struggle to understand.

You snap out of your thoughts as the ghoul attempts to retrieve her from the water. A tense moment begins to unfold. The rope gets tangled, and the water starts churning as the gulper draws near. Frantically, he twists the wheel connected to the pulley system but it seems stuck. In a panic, you spot a hook stick nearby and throw it to him. He yanks her back up and she falls back onto the dock. The gulper lunges forward, its jaws snapping shut mere inches away from her, narrowly missing her.

The excess rope attached to the vault dweller becomes entangled in the gulper's mouth, causing it to thrash about wildly. In the chaos, the rope slips from under you and winds around your leg. As she fights back against the creature with the ghoul's satchel, she manages to free herself. But now, the gulper redirects its focus towards you and launches itself at your foot. With a terrifyingly close view, you see its mouth lined with tendrils resembling human fingers as it starts to pull you closer, inching towards the horrifying prospect of being devoured by this thing.

The ghoul rushes towards you and clasps onto your hand, desperately trying to pull you out of its mouth. For a brief moment, you're touched by his attempt to help, but suspicion creeps in as you realize he may be more concerned about the vials in your bag.

However, the sheer power of the large gulper proves too overwhelming as it begins to engulf you. The hundreds of finger-like tendrils, slick and slimy, slither and coil around you in a grotesque dance of entrapment. Each sinewy appendage seems to have a mind of its own, probing and grasping with an unsettling precision.

As the tendrils press against your skin, a wave of revulsion washes over you, causing your stomach to churn and bile to rise in your throat. The repulsive touch is warm and clammy, sending shivers down your spine as you struggle against the suffocating grip of the gulper's mouth.

You unleash a torrent of obscenities, every curse and profanity in your arsenal spewing forth in a raw display of frustration and panic as the ghoul continues to fight against the gulper's grasp. In a final, desperate struggle, the ghoul's grip falters. His strength wanes as he stumbles backward, his body crashing to the ground with a resounding thud.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" you shout in frustration as the creature envelops you, swallowing you whole. The last image being etched in your mind is that of the ghoul's contorted face, twisting in anger as he yells furiously at the vault dweller and then…

Darkness.

Tag List: @fallout-girl219 @ellabellabunny123 @sunnexaltation

#hope you enjoy my gulper description lmao #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout #smoothie and the ghoul

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louventcavaliersx · 9 months

Text

𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄.

Pairing: Severus Snape x Gender Neutral Reader

From the days of youth, your affection for Severus endures, despite his devotion to Lily. Even after the passage of years, your love for him remains steadfast.

fanfiction; part one. | Harry Potter

━─━────━─━────༺༻━─━────────━─━

Years had drifted by since the departure of Lily Evans, your childhood companion, and her spouse James Potter. The night replayed in your mind, as you recollected the torment that Severus experienced. The tears that marked his pallid cheek. He embraced her form for the final time. It was then that you realized that he would never relinquish her memory.

Your paths diverged when Severus became more embittered. The chill that enveloped him as he aligned himself with darkness. Perplexed and disheartened, you left the man to his bitterness and his shadowy, tormenting world. However, you could never erase the image of his countenance as you turned away and departed from him that night.

Under the moonlit sky, you uttered, 'Severus, please don't do this.' Your plea fell upon unheeding ears, as you beseeched him to understand your feelings, to requite them. Alas, the frostiness in his gaze and the curl of his lip into a scornful sneer only served to propel you further away with each passing moment.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you clutched his hand, yearning for comprehension. Yet, he tore his hand away with a repulsive expression etched on his countenance. 'Out,' he uttered. He was prepared to let your bond perish on account of his unwavering love for Lily, for the Dark Arts, and perchance for something else unbeknownst to you.

Your heart felt constricted within your chest, as you entreated, 'Severus, do not do this.' But he met my entreaty with naught but disdain. Unable to endure his scorn any longer, you departed from him on that frigid night, when the breeze was as cold as his rejection and the night darker than the deepest shadow. It marked the bitter conclusion of your association.

Now you pondered how he fared, after all this time. Perhaps he remained embittered and still pursued the memory of Lily despite her passing. When would he come to understand? You mused.

The walls exuded a coldness, and the atmosphere was far from cheery. The Leaky Cauldron felt desolate and remote, unlike how most perceived it to be—welcoming and comforting. A sigh escaped your lips as you traced the rim of your cup with your finger. Then, you heard his voice.

━─━────━─━────༺༻━─━────────━─━

#severus snape #professor snape #snape #snape fandom #fanfic #harry potter #severus snape x reader #snape x reader #snape x you #teaser #snape x male reader #x male reader #male reader #gender neutral reader #female reader #x female reader #x gender neutral reader

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the-midnight-blooms · 5 months

Text

ʀᴜᴘᴛᴜʀᴇᴅ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴛᴇʟʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ

pairing: soulmate!kang yeosang x reader

AU: soulmate au

word count: 3.3k

ATEEZ as angst tropes series:

masterlist

Trope: Soulmates That Never Find Each Other

You were there.

I felt you. Your presence reminiscent in my dreams, we swayed from side to side in a grand ball. The thrill of the game of love fuelling us both as we spun around in each other’s arms. I could’ve sworn I felt our souls entwine. I see your eyes like dynamite stare into mine. They haunt me every night as my eyes shut, the magnetising pull of our souls. Something snaps our string of fate, the culprit well blended into the shadows of my distant thoughts I can never stand and point my finger at them. Who’s to blame? Who’s to blame from separating me from you?

In the dead of the night, two figures loomed in the dark sprinting through the narrow hallways of a large manor perched upon a hill. A candelabra settled in one hand and his lovers hand encased within the other. The air still as he guides her down, finally they reach a deserted room. Passionately their lips meet in the dim light, fingers running through their hair. So lost in each other’s taste, the clock twirls, time ticking as they savour each other and the few moments they have left. In the finality effortlessly he lifts her up twirling her around tickling her neck with his lips, the intoxicating melody of her laughter enamouring him.

“My darling, the owner of my heart. Will you give it back to me?” He asks, gazing into her eyes so lovingly as if they held unmapped constellations.

“Give you back, what?” She teases, brushing their noses against each other. An old act of maternal love projected onto him, the urge to protect him, keep him. Inaugurate him as her own.

“My heart, or at least some of it. Just enough to keep me alive without your presence.”

“I don’t think so.” She proclaimed, “I think I’ll keep it with me, so as long as I have it you won’t forget me.”

In an instant, the blaring sound of her alarm rudely awakened her from her dream eyelids tearing open to switch the obnoxious noise off. Smacking the brutal thing shut, a long groan escaped from her lips flopping her head back onto the pillow- sealing her eyes closed hoping that he would miraculously crawl back to her. He never did in the mornings where the sun exchanged its place in the sky with the moon.

Mornings were always weary and awful in her desolate flat, the chilling air always coming to add to the loneliness she felt waking up every morning to no one. After being groomed into her work attire, she became subject to the repetitiveness of the ‘nine-to-five’ schedule she was contained within (except she started at eight o’clock and finished at four). The office was particularly quiet at this time, speeding over to her desk she slumped down on her chair, clicking the button underneath the panel. She made sure to relish the first hour of quietness before her colleagues rolled in, politely greeting her before seating themselves at their own desks. Clatter of keyboards infiltrated the air surrounding them, continuing for hours on end the abrasive sound occasionally dipping during lunch break before piping back up. At the end of a tiresome day, her eyes much sore from the incessant glare of the computer screen she sauntered out of the building.

The coldness of her apartment welcomed her again; the isolation called her in. The silence was enough to comfort her soul but there was no presence of somebody, anybody, to greet her with open arms. A buzzing sound vibrated in her pocket, slipping her phone out to read a message from her friend.

Hellooo are you free tomorrow?? I have news

Scoffing a little at her friends straightforwardness, immediately she typed back a response.

It’ll have to be after work, tomorrow at half 5?

Perfect, see you then

As planned as soon as the clock struck four, she made a beeline across to the other side of the city, all the way to her friend’s home. Jogging up the steps, she knocked a few times clutching onto her shoulder bag before her friend swung open the door, an elated smile plastered across her face. Ignoring all the formalities, she strolled in placing her shoes at the entrance before dropping her bag at the foot of the sofa.

“How are you? How was work?” Her friend questioned, settling herself on the seat opposite.

“I’m good, work is- well mundane as usual. How are you? What’s got you so happy?” Though, she felt that she already knew the answer.

"I found him, my soulmate. K for Kyong." Rolling up her sleeve to show the letter engraved into her pale flesh, as if she had not seen the letter several times before. With a wide smile plastered amongst her lips, childish squeals vibrated through the room, the friends encompassing each other.

Finding your soulmate varied from one person to another. Some had their lovers name imprinted on parts of their body, some an imbedded clock on their wrists counting down the minutes until they would meet. Some had words, like the first word they would ever say to you. But when she was born, she had nothing. At least there was no physical manifestation on her body that would declare that she’d ever meet her soulmate. Perhaps she was not worthy of love, she was not desirable to others. She wasn’t beautiful by any means, or at least in her eyes. How could she be beautiful when there was the mere existence of her friends? Take Joo-Won, for example. Her name literally meant love; she was born to be adored. Her whole life she had spent, taking the photos rather than being in them. Hiding from the camera, avoiding bathroom mirrors. Wearing pretty dresses for no one to validate her appearance, yet when her friend wore that same dress a few weeks later the entirety of their university flocked to her side praising her gorgeous looks. By all means she did not feel any sense of jealousy but rather hurt that she was not cherished. That the universe sought her so undeserving of love. It hurt to be unlovable. It hurt to just exist for the sole purpose of existing. Nevertheless she congratulated Joo-Won on her newly founded love, promising to be there whenever and if ever she needed her.

“Oh darling,” Joo-Won reached to take out her friend’s hands in her own, slithers of happiness moulding into sympathy. “If only you found your lover by now. There’s still hope! I have a work friend just like you-,”

“Don’t be silly. Love is a blessing that is only meant for some. It’s not meant for me, and I’m ok with that.”

She was not ok with that.

When she stepped back into the coldness of her apartment, her knees buckled sinking to the floor as hot tears rolled down her cheeks. An irritable pang settled into her heart, she clutched at the fabric of her shirt.

Why not me?

To make matters even worse, when her body brimmed with exhaustion and she trudged towards her bedroom shutting her eyes inviting sleep to overcome her, the man in her dreams did not return to her. Instead she wandered through the abandoned manor alone, exploring hidden rooms. Jumping at every little sound, hoping it was him turning around the corner. She woke up in a foul mood. Just like that the days bled into each other, the weekends speeding by as her working days trudged their way to the end. Her loneliness only ascended, as every other week her phone buzzed with Joo-Won informing her on how so and so had “found their soulmate”.

She wasn’t cut out for love, but how it agonised her to admit that. She entered her dreamscape again that night, except this time instead of gallivanting through the deserted hallways she was perched by the hearth her hands glistening over the cackling embers. A low creak strained into the room, a familiar figure entering a warm smile etched on his face. It was him. Relief rushed through her body, she leapt from her seat the pull to him so strong once he encased her within his arms she could not let go.

“I missed you.” A low chuckle escaped him as she buried her face into his neck.

“I was only gone five minutes.” His slender fingers moved to tuck a stray lock of soft hair behind her ears. Her lips moved to form his name the shape of it present the sound of it, absent. Now that she thought about it, what was his name? Her brain wracked through the many names she’d heard in her life time, trying to find one fitting to his handsome face. Her mind clicked at once.

Yeosang.

It was perfect, a name so divine. So heavenly, so fitting for his gorgeous, gorgeous face. A man born out of beauty.

“Yeosang.” She called out, her voice disembarking out to him like an angel’s warm breath tickling the lobe of his ear, it was enough to send him into a state of delirium.

“Yes, my love?”

“Never leave me again.”

“I won’t, I’ll be here for eternity. Stuck by your side.”

“I swear, I wish Yeosang was real.” A dreamy expression was etched onto her face, while a growing look of concern was reciprocated by her friend. She could not help but share some of the delightful dreams that seemed to be exhilarating her. Whilst Joo-Won noticed her friend’s mood was improving over the subsequent weeks the reason being so, had her worried.

“You shouldn’t get too attached to him. It’s going to make it harder for you to find someone real.” The scarlet red mug rose to her lips; hot beverage scalding her tongue. A low hiss escaped from her lips as her friend sunk deeper into the sofa.

“I know it’s just- sometimes I think he’s a real person. Like he’s meant to be with me. Like the way you have Kyong etched onto your skin- I have carved in my mind.” Closing her eyes, to see the glimpses of his comely features. Oh, how she wished to find him and tried at that. Venturing out into the streets of Pohang, attempting to find the brunette. On many occasions, she felt his ubiquity residing in the air but his face unable to be acknowledged. A sympathetic sigh escaped from Joo-Won’s lips, she leaned back onto the sofa herself. Its nearly not the same thing. Oh, how she did not have the guts to proclaim that. A part of her felt that her friend was slipping away, travelling so far gone into distant land becoming detached from her reality.

“What are you doing my love?” Cool wind stirred through the empty night, her hair swaying with the breeze. Waves overlapped, the rush of water forging a cacophony of sounds, healing the aching sounds of the bustling city that indented their ears. His brown eyes gazed intently on her face, as if he was searching for something. They stopped, fixating at one point.

“You have a birthmark.” she giggled at his bluntness. Slender hands gravitated towards her skin, glazing over the small brown mark on her jawline. He pressed a soft kiss to her birthmark, a contented sigh relieving from her. If only she could feel him, relish him. If only his touch could be so real; if only she could feel the warmth radiating of his skin. “It’s so beautiful.”

“Don’t be silly, it’s just a brown splodge. Yours, on the other hand, is very pretty. I wish mine took a heart shape like yours. Look at you, you’re meant for love.”

“And are you not? Are you not made to be mine?” His words so potent, rocked her head- she was hypnotised by the allure of his devotion ultimately swaying her mind from one side to another. Fumes of his love enough to intoxicate her for the rest of life, nothing could detox her of the narcotic.

“Perhaps if I was made for you, I could hold you. Where are you?” Just like that, as the words ran through her mouth his figure began to fade becoming at one with the night, taken away by the stars-blinking conceitedly down at her, as if to mock that he was just a dream and a dream alone. Her wish to have and to hold him eternally, was something that exceeded the bounds of the universe.

Yeosang woke up trembling, cold beads of sweat forming on his upper lip. Where did she go? She was within his embrace a second ago, then as soon as she beckoned for him the switch flicked and he shot awake misery fulfilling him as it did every night before. Leaning his head on the headboard, he let out an uncontented huff. Much like the lover in his dreams, he was too not marked with a soulmate’s notation. Though with the distinct red-heart shaped birthmark near his left eye many had conspired that in his past life his lover kissed him on that spot many times that when he was reborn, he was carrying their love with him. He shook his head, laughing every time his friends assured him he was not unlovable. He begged to differ. Reluctantly, he crawled out of his bed to start the day ahead.

He comes to her in the beguiling silence of the night, like he usually does, but this time his touch holds more sincerity, clinging to her as if it’s real now he hates to think when his eyes flutter open he’ll let her go. A tear slips down his cheeks; when she peers at his porcelain face, her hand immediately draws towards him gently brushing it away to kiss his nose.

“What’s wrong, my love?” She whispers, as though speaking an octave higher would shatter him.

“Every time I close my eyes I see your face and when I awaken I can never find it. Where are you?” He breaths out, foreheads touching. His warm embrace relaxing the tense fibres in her muscles.

“I think about that myself, every day. This dream feels too real to be a dream, as if your being here is supposed to be a sign.” She responded, he nods carefully taking in every word exactly as his own. He searched for her in bookshops, towns, in university and in his workplace. Everywhere he went he could not seek her, as if everything down her to physique was inimitable. Even with that distinct birthmark on her jawline, she seemed extinct. No clone of her true enough the ease the unsettling feeling that arose when each morning he woke up and she wasn’t next to him. She drifts away from him again, panic floods through his veins palms flailing trying to clasp onto her but like the wind, she was gone.

Hovering by the ticket booth in the busy railway station, phone glued to her hand awaiting Joo-Won's phone call. Her best friend had gone back to Pohang to visit her parents and grandmother, requesting that she picked her up when she came back. With nothing better to do, she agreed yet she was beginning to regret agreeing as the station flooded with biting air that sent an tantalising shiver down her knobbly spine. Screech of metal grinding against metal penetrated the atmosphere, doors opening and a crowd of people rudely shoving past each other on the platform. In an instant, she found herself huddled within a crowd people, her body being pushed in all directions as some entered the train but a majority exiting. The station anticipated with a dissonance that she disliked all too well, still anticipating Joo-Won's arrival annoyance and panic surged within her.

Her eyes caught a familiar face, latching onto that red heart-shaped birthmark and those wide eyes of his. His smile all too conversant as he spoke to the taller man behind him. A rush of adrenaline charged her, her legs finding her way towards him, becoming at one with the abominable mob. He was right before her, so close, the closest she'd feel to his skin it would be so stupid of her to let him go.

"Yeosang!" she shouted, he froze in his spot craning his neck to follow the sweet melody. He sought her figure amongst the number of heads, some obscuring his view, others ducking their heads as if to shine a spotlight on her unveiled beauty. Her eyes did not hold the twinkling stars but rather the fire of the burning sun. Her figure not as translucent; borne away by the twilight like the several times he encountered it. Instead it was as if the aurora anchored her to the earth, but goodness was she not the capturer of his heart. For every time he saw her, his soul evaporated from his body knees feeling weak. They made their way to each other through the crowd. Mingi who had almost not noticed his friend meander away from him, stalked behind.

Their hearts drew closer, the entrancing pull of their fervour stronger and stronger with every step they took. I have found you, my darling. I am coming to you.

Suddenly, a hand enclosed around their shoulders, synchronously jerking them backwards.

"Yeosang. Where are you going? We're going to be late, you know Seonghwa doesn't like tardiness."

"I called you five times, I thought you ditched me. Where did you go?" Ignoring their friends, they turned her heads back eyes scanning for each other in the sea of heads. They did not find each other, losing one another as they were yanked away; their pull weakening, the string of fate that tied them both slipping away, disintegrating.

It became apparent to both that the perceived pellucidity, the distance paved between them, the inability to have- to hold each other, to feel the warmth they were entitled to, came at the cost of their sheer existence.

I exist, but not to have you.

The lovers interlocked eyes at the opposite ends of the hallway, dashing down the manor as bare feet slapped against the cold marble, bodies colliding. His strong arms closing her within him to prevent her from falling.

"Where did you go? Why can't I have you?” she cried, weakly tears bursting from their banks, gripping on his white shirt as tight as she could.

“Our stars align, but they do not bind us.” He decreed, his hands moving to gently brush the tears from her face. Their lips meet again, but slow and soft to savour its last taste. “I love you.” They meet again. I love you. Again. I love you. Light blares in through the window, the haunting ring of a bell drawing closer to them. Time is running out.

“In the life after this, come find me. For now, find another love. Do not live a life of solitude, my dear. It’s not what you deserve.”

"Can I not have you now?" she exhaled. He shook his head no. "Yeosang, you promised you would stay by my side forever."

"But it hurts, it hurts that I can only have you when I close my eyes. It hurts that when I try to reach you, the further you seem to be moving away from me."

"You selfish man!" she declared, "Does it not hurt me too? Do you know how much it hurts to live knowing that the one thing that completes me, I cannot have?" His body wracked with sobs, uncontrollably. Sinking to his knees, resting an arm on her waist to steady him as he dug his head into her abdomen. Arduous cries fulfilled the night, the stars indifferent to their pain. Reluctantly, she gently removed his hand, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead before transcending back down the hallway.

He called out for her name, but his voice only echoed in the void. She was no longer there. So far long, at one with the stars her beauty forming an unmapped constellation that they could not pinpoint the days they spent endless nights under the sibylline moon.

•••

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, REPURPOSE, OR PLAGISRISE ANY OF THE WORK HERE

A/N: ahh, it took me a while to try find a fitting trope for Yeosang. Initially I planned miscommunication but it’s such a bad trope that I thought, I need to do my man Yeosang justice. Feels a bit patchy, what do you guys think? May end up editing soon.

let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for any future fics I post!

#ateez #ateez angst #kpop #kang yeosang #yeosang x reader #yeosang x you #yeosang #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #soulmates #soulmate au

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