#a lot of it is pretty basic but idk i find it really cute

[astranauticus]

god help me so i started playing slay the spire and like, i've only tried the first 3 characters but my favourite, with 1000% certainty, absolutely no questions asked, is the defect. really not beating the robot guy allegation huh

[spaghett-onaplate]

depression is really weird actually wdym i spent 2.5 years of my life in bed

[kerosene-saint]

me styling basic clothing into cute alt (scene and/emo specifically) outfits: :DDDD

me trying to style the highly specific super edgy "high fashion" alt wear: man I look like shit

[zara-renata]

So I had one holiday prompt that I couldn't include in the big holiday prompt fic I posted last week, and I also have been receiving some really sweet and cute ideas that weren't exactly requests, but the ideas were so nice that I wanted to write something for them. I've gathered them into one story that I hope isn't disappointing. I had intended to do separate, cute little drabbles, but I had a bad day the other day and somehow uh, really dark angst happened, and then I used the ideas people sent for the comfort half of the fic? So please forgive me for just... taking it as dark as you can go before including the sweet, cute ideas that people requested. I hope you like the result anyway, although please read the content warnings. Several of the people who sent requests/ideas apologized for doing so, as if sending the ideas was 'too much', but you don't have to apologize for sending asks. My requests are open, and I like seeing everyone's ideas even if I don't end up being able to write for them, or if I tweak them a little to make them work for the story that comes out of my brain despite my best laid plans to stick to an outline.

The river | ao3 | masterlist

It's Christmas Eve, you're at the end of your rope after an absolutely awful year, and you decide to end it all after pushing everyone in your life away. Sylus pulls you from the brink and convinces you to keep going.

Sylus x fem reader, Sylus x mc, hurt/comfort, angst, grief, banter, fluff. CW: attempted suicide, depressed thoughts, NSFW, Sylus penetrating reader (this is not sex ed, do not follow these idiots' example, no discussion of condom or birth control, this is fantasy and we're not going to worry about that in the fic)

Ask #1 You asked to keep sending silly little ideas for you to write so I thought I'd give my own request! After Caleb and Gran (supposedly) die it's pretty much canon that MC refuses help from their friends and isolates themself in certain ways. I always imagine MC sometimes sees Sylus as "the only one they have left" since he is the only one who goes out of his way to check up on MC. But MC kinda grows to resent this and has a moment when their drunk/really going through it and basically ask Sylus why he doesn't leave them be so they can just rot away in peace. Sorry if this is too lengthy or I'm overstepping! Brain worms are getting to me

Ask #2 Okay, so random thoughts here, but do you know that superstition that’s like, “the places where you have moles on your body show where your lover kissed you in a past life”? But like… can you imagine what it would be like if MC had a mole in the exact spot where Sylus bit her during Abyssal Mark (cus I have one there lol) and then that superstition randomly gets brought up, only for MC to show him that mole and Sylus is just s h o o k??? N e way that’s my random thoughts lol (sorry if this is a lot 💀)

Ask #3 I love the way you write the MC and I find myself relating to them at least 99% of the time. Sometimes I just imagine them giving Sylus one of those "Do you like me? Circle yes or no!" Love letters to Sylus because they are terrified of rejection -> i wrote the MC in this story really, really depressed, so if this didn't hit the spot for you in terms of fear of rejection, let me know, and I can include your prompt in another story idea I had before this one that's a lot lighter and sweeter before I got hit by the angst truck that this fic turned out to be. just let me know!

Ask #4 the last holiday prompt! -> idk if anyone sent it yet but from the xmas prompt list, i would love to see what you do with number 8 -> I'm so sorry that this is what I did with it, I hope you like it anyway😭

Thank you everyone who has sent me ideas! If you've sent me a request and I haven't answered it yet, it's because I'm still intending to do something with it.

Here you are. Again.

At the end of a long day. A long week. A long year. 

A long rope.

It’s the dark, this time of year. 

Maybe. 

You’re restless. You’ve passed through the Deepspace Hunters Association doors for the last time this year. Empty days of leave stretch before you.

Normally, it would still be light out, leaving this early. But not now, this deep into the year—it’s already full night, as you leave work early.

The bright lights of the building pour over your upturned face as you look back, just once. You don’t know what for. You’ve successfully severed most of the ties you had built before.

Before everything.

Tara, Xavier. After Caleb, Josephine—they reached out, over and over, and you bit their outstretched hands with your sharp, sharp teeth. 

You snapped enough times that they keep their distance, now. 

They’re still kind. 

Tara still comes, sits on your desk, shares tidbits of gossip during the workday. But she no longer invites you along to karaoke, to after-work drinks with other coworkers.

You and Xav work in sync, as you eliminate wanderers. He walks you to your door at the end of the day. But he no longer offers to lend you books. No longer invites you to the bookstore, or to try new restaurants.

You watch his broad back as he walks away from you, down your apartment building’s hallway. He feels as far away as a star in the velvet night sky.

It’s not their fault. You did this.

You wanted this.

You turn away from the warm light beaming from the Association as you leave early, the Christmas lights glittering in the windows, the holiday party you’re skipping still in full swing in the open, sleek company restaurant area on the ground floor. A division-wide shindig, to celebrate the end of the year, the holidays.

The night is cold. Fairy lights, nets of bright pinpricks in the dark night, cover the trees lining the sidewalk. Decorative light displays stretch across the busy road at periodic intervals, over the canals that parallel the streets, the gondolas and tour-boats festive under their own lights, red ribbons flapping in the cold winter wind.

You think about how they never recovered a body.

Only Josephine’s ashes fill an urn, sitting in a cold niche of a quiet columbarium. Caleb’s urn is empty.

You start walking, fast, along the busy sidewalk. People are out shopping, scurrying to tie up last minute errands before the city shuts down for the holiday tomorrow.

You want to unzip your coat. Unzip your uniform. Unzip your skin, your ribcage. Leave all these pieces of yourself behind, for others to puzzle over. To sweep up with the rest of the refuse left over from festive party goers on the street. You want to dissipate in the cold winter air like your breath with each cursed inhale, exhale.

You settle for beginning to jog to the metro station, your feet carrying you faster, faster, your boots heavy on the sidewalk. You see it lit in the distance, but you can’t stand the thought of being underground right now. Buried alive, with all the other people. You sprint past it. 

You’re graceful enough to duck and weave, not disturb anyone else, until the crowds thin.

You’re running, running, the city is streaming past, like the tears from your eyes. Wet from the cold, because you haven’t cried since waking up, your ears deafening, Caleb’s silver chain glittering in the firelight on the walk up to your grandmother’s burning house.

Tears won’t bring a body back.

You don’t know how much longer you can stand this.

The days, one after another. Alarm, moving through the dark to get to work. Moving through the dark to get back to your apartment at the end of the day.

The pain—your only constant, now. The only thing you expect, have to look forward to, day after blurred day. 

An echoing emptiness, like an urn without ashes. An emptiness that feels so full that your skin could burst with it.

You think about your apartment. The festive city outside its windows. The half-opened bottle of wine in the fridge, the only thing in it.

You veer from your neighborhood. Keep running. You’re sweating under your winter coat, your heavy Hunter uniform. It doesn’t matter.

You run, and run, and run, until you run out of streets, sidewalk.

Just the river, wide and black. There is a bridge, soaring over the water, in the distance. Its lights reflected in the water, along with the urban nightscape. Stars above, stars below.

You could drown in them.

You look at the bridge.

You could drown in it all.

There’s no one left, after all.

Who will miss you?

You slow. Stop.

Your breath is heavy in the quiet air. Fairy lights sparkle here, too. Pretty swooping light displays top each lamppost along the river path. 

You would have gone to identify the body, as you did with Gran. She didn’t look like herself. Not even a sleeping version of herself. They did their best, reconstructing her face. But it wasn’t the stitches, the bruising. It was that she simply wasn’t there anymore. Like a stranger’s body on display. An empty house after the residents have been forced to flee in a night of unimaginable violence. 

But running your hands through her hair, one last time. It soothed something in you. Enough that you could breathe in the cold mortuary air. Could nod. Could watch as they covered her again. As they escorted you out into the bustling hospital hallways, to stand under cold fluorescent lights. To stare vacantly at the wall, until you felt a strange, familiar feeling. You looked up, saw Zayne watching you, at the end of the long hallway. You stared at him, memorizing his beautiful face. His dark hair. His severe, cold loveliness. You let yourself look one last time, and he let you. Through the people filling the hallway, each walking with purpose, they were a blur and he was  across the world, across time, a part of your past that should never have reappeared in your present. It hurt too much, to look at his beautiful, distant face. He left you behind, once. He should have stayed gone. You can’t stand to experience the loss again, the loss you felt every time he listened to your heart, expressionless, a stranger with a beautiful, familiar face from your past, a past in which Caleb was still alive. 

You looked at Zayne one last time, across a bustling hallway in a place full of life, of death, and he let you. You then turned, headed to the reception desk. You switched doctors, hospitals.

You blocked his number, so you’ll never know if he sent you a text, tried to call and ask why, after. He let you walk out. Which is as it should be.

You wanted this.

The water churns under the whipping wind, the fast current. It looks so cold. Cold enough to numb. Cold enough to finally put out the fire that’s been burning in you, ever since you woke up, your ears deafening, Caleb’s necklace shimmering in the flames.

You think of running your hands through his hair. Something the fire robbed you of—it would have been your first time, your last time. He would pat your head. Call you pipsqueak. Ignore your protests to not mess up your hair, to not treat you like a little kid. But he would always duck out of the way anytime you tried to return the favor, tease him, tousle his hair. His pretty brunette hair that always looked so soft. Now you’ll never know how soft it really was.

You look at the water. You look at the bridge. The car headlights meteors streaking along their guardrail-gated orbit.

You think about going home. Waking up tomorrow, Christmas Day. The silence. You think about going back to work. Killing wanderer after wanderer. Wondering which one will be the one to finally kill you.

The days blur. The constant emptiness echoing inside your apartment, inside your ribcage.

You look at the water. You look at the bridge. You imagine running your hands through Caleb’s hair for the first, the last time. A tender goodbye you’ll never have, because they never found his body.

There’s no one left to miss you.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket. You fish it out.

Rafayel no longer calls, or texts you words. He just sends photos, every once in a while. Mundane details of everyday life, rendered extraordinary through his artist’s eye. Paintings he’s working on. A foreign landscape. Leaves glistening with dew. The moon, waxing full.

You haven’t answered in months. You look at each one, tuck your phone back in your pocket.

You look back at the water. Think about taking a photo of the reflected stars, the thin crescent moon in the black waves, think of sending him one last response. But even you’re not that cruel. You don’t want him to realize later, that he was the last one to say anything to you.

You don’t open his text. You block his number. Tuck the phone back into your pocket.

You start to walk toward the bridge. As you walk, you keep your eyes on the path, its edges. Decorative, smooth stones line the walkway along the river embankment. You pick them up, here and there, as you walk. Slip them into your coat pockets.

Eventually you run out of room in your coat pockets, add more to your pants pockets. 

You turn your eyes back to the bridge, looming now.

You think of your empty fridge. Josephine’s empty face. An empty urn.

You’re ready to scoop out what’s left of you, leave it behind on the sidewalk, smoldering as the cold night finally smothers the endless fire, the only thing left inside you. Maybe it will warm someone else, in passing. A last good deed, from you to someone in the world.

A metal staircase, leading up, up, into the black sky, mirroring the dark river, your heavy boots echoing. The cars are loud. If you close your eyes, they could be the rushing waves of an ocean, instead of a river of traffic, above a river of water.

You keep your eyes open. You’re not going to pretend that you’re not doing what you’re doing, now. You’re not at the ocean, its pure salt air drifting through your hair, now whipping around your face. You’re on a busy, exhaust- and oil-stained commuter bridge on the night before Christmas, having cut your ties with everyone you have always known never wanted or needed you in the first place. What’s the difference if a wanderer kills you tomorrow, or if something kills you today? Just empty time, blurry days, photo frames without pictures.

The guardrail isn’t so high as one would guess. It’s an easy step up. An easy step over. You stand, looking back over the city where you were raised. The city that contains all the past versions of yourself, from the moment you were pulled screaming into life from a mother whose face you’ll never know, through to now, an empty shell of a person. If your fellow hunters could see inside you, they’d mistake you for a wanderer and put you down, like the scientists who experimented on you, your own grandmother, did years ago.

Since learning that Gran was one of the people who fucked with your heart, you have often resented that she and her colleagues weren’t successful in finishing the job years ago, when they had the chance.

But now you wonder, standing over a dark, freezing river that reflects what’s inside you now, maybe they did finish it. You just didn’t realize it. Not till tonight, as you look down in the mirror of the rushing water, far below.

Even now, the tears won’t come.

What use are tears, when they can’t bring a body back. When they can’t wash it clean. When they can’t lovingly touch it, one last time, soft strands of hair under your fingers.

Your tears, your heart, your suffering, your existence—useless, for the entirety of a life you can only half remember.

You wonder if it’s the dark, tonight. Why tonight, and not yesterday? Why not six months ago? 

Because it took that long to sever the ties binding you here?

Now you are assured, no one will miss you. It will take days before anyone even notices your absence because of your holiday leave.

You hope that they’ll assume it was a wanderer. Bad luck. Wrong time, wrong place. A modest little plaque on the wall of heroes, even though you know you’re no hero.

In the end, it doesn’t matter why it’s tonight, and not any other night.

No need to be dramatic, pretending there’s meaning in the meaningless.

You put your hands on the guardrail, the metal colder than your freezing hands. You lift a heavy booted foot. Take a deep breath. 

It’s so cold. It will be over before you know it. You’ve read that from this height, it’s the impact, and not the drowning.

You’ve always had dreams of flying. 

You lift your other foot, arms thrown wide for balance, just for a moment. The world feels so big, here at the end. The stars above, the stars below, the doubled crescent moon. You’re ready to drown in it all.

You only have one hope.

I don’t want to be reborn.

You breathe, empty your mind of Tara’s earnest smile, Xavier’s soft laughter, Zayne’s steady hands, Rafayel’s flashing violet eyes. Josephine’s empty face. Caleb’s soft, untouchable hair.

You let yourself fall.

You’re flying. Your heart is soaring. Your heart is seizing. The relief, the terror, mingle. You can’t scream, even if you wanted to.

You’re flying and it’s everything you ever dreamt, until it’s not.

Your body jerks, abruptly. Your hair whips down, lashes your face. You grunt with the impact against… nothing. You’re suspended over the water, drifting in the air. The wind tugs at your stone-weighted coat.

You twist away from the water, craning your neck to look up, up, back at the bridge.

You have withstood the uselessness of tears for almost a year now. But now, you want to cry so badly the pain of the need steals your breath.

You knew he was cruel. You knew he was merciless. You knew that he hated you. You just didn’t realize how much, until now.

You hang suspended over a dark, rushing river, wrapped in scarlet and ink tendrils, looking up into the sneering face of the one person you refused to think about as you made your final decision tonight, at the end of your desolate, half-remembered life.

His evol begins to lift you, away from the merciful impact, the numbing water. You, your past, your heart, the memories and despair and stones filling your pockets seem weightless, wrapped in his power.

His usual mask of bored indifference is gone. He is finally showing you his true face, what he must always feel when he looks at you—fury and disgust.

He says nothing, as he pulls you from the depths, back into the world. As he sets you gently back on your heavy feet on the sidewalk in front of him. His evol evaporates, winter breath in the wind.

He looks at your face with his wine-dark eyes. Looks at the water. Flicks his gaze back to your face.

You will not cry in front of this man. This man who hates you so much he won’t even let you seek the peace of death. Death, which has always been too good for you, but not for the people you loved the most.

You clench your jaw as the fire re-ignites in your chest. The flames you had tried so hard to scoop out, to leave behind.

You don’t want to feel this much anymore.

If you speak, you know you’ll cry. You can’t stand it.

Maybe, with enough repetition, he’ll get bored. He gets bored so easily, after all.

You turn, try to launch yourself over the guardrail again.

This time, it’s not his evol, but his arms that wrap around you, pull you back from the fall.

You struggle, throwing your elbows, kicking, throwing your head back, hoping to catch his perfect nose, break it under the hardness of your stupid, useless skull.

He says nothing, just holds you tighter, wraps one arm around your waist, the other over your chest, his big hand cradling the side of your face, pressing your head back into his own chest, as he hunches over you, an immovable wall of warmth. As you fight to break free of his hold, you are wrapped in his scent—cloves, gun oil. 

Sylus.

Eventually, you tire yourself out—despite all of your strength, it is no match for his. He holds you against himself easily, as you pant, lungs burning with the effort, the sweat warm once again under your Hunter’s uniform. You become aware of a whimpering, the keening of a wounded animal.

It’s coming from your throat. Your eyes burn. You go limp in his arms.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. A voice like warm liquor in your veins. You think he’ll let you go. You prepare, hoping you can get to the guardrail again. Maybe this time he won't be so fast. But instead of releasing you, getting away from you as fast as he can, the arm around your waist moves up, cradling your upper back. He scoops his other arm under your legs, holds you against himself like you’re a delicate princess, if you were anyone else. But because it’s you, he’s probably just holding you like a useless sack of shit that would be too annoying to drop. He begins to walk, his stride steady, brisk.

He looks down into your face. “I bought a dress for you. Silk. A design like stars over a flowing river. That’s the only river you’re allowed in tonight, kitten.”

You stare at him. His breath puffs white in the cold air. The face of disgusted fury is replaced by his usual bored mask.

Why is he doing this to you? He wanted to kill you, just a few months ago. Why not let you do the job for him?

He is the only person in your life who didn’t take the hint. Who kept showing up, after you made it clear that you didn’t want their presence anymore. That you couldn’t handle the ties, because ties become nooses, snapping your neck when the other person leaves you behind.

When he showed up where you were, in a ‘coincidental’ meeting on the street, on a jog, you would turn, move in the other direction. He would match your stride, doggedly pestering you with questions, asking you about your evening or weekend plans, telling you silly stories from the N109 Zone, Luke and Kieran’s latest antics. Sometimes he’d just walk in contemplative silence, thumbs hooked through his belt loops, or jog quietly next to you, never losing his breath, never complaining about the pace.

When you would routinely see him at various restaurants you were headed to in order to pick up takeout, you’d leave your food, immediately turning and hurrying away. When the same food was delivered to your door half an hour later, you’d refuse to answer, letting the confused and irritated delivery man leave. A half hour after that, the same man would be back, yell through the door that he had instructions to leave the food even if no one answered, and then he’d make good on his promise. You were faced with the choice of either letting the food go to waste, or eating it guiltily at your kitchen island.

No matter how many times you told the delivery person of the almost daily packages you received with no return address that you didn’t want to accept delivery, they would always insist that their instructions were to deliver regardless of recipient response. You were welcome to bin the items after receipt, but if you didn’t accept, the packages would just pile so high outside of your door that you couldn’t reach your apartment anymore.

You would accept, and then donate whatever exquisite item was inside to women’s shelters, children’s homes, university museums, soup kitchens, fundraiser auctions. No matter how clear it was that you wouldn’t accept anything from him, Sylus never stopped sending you gifts.

When you were sick, he’d show up personally, barge into your apartment when you were too tired to look at the doorbell camera before answering, a duffel bag gripped in his big hand filled with fever reducing medicine, homemade soup from his home chef, painkillers, hot water bottles, cooling pads, muscle pads, vitamins. He’d lounge on your couch, manspreading, insisting that he wouldn’t leave until he saw you swallow the pills and drink a gigantic glass of water.

He’d wait until you lay back down on your messy bed, until you fell asleep. He’d be gone when you woke again, but your apartment would be clean and your fridge and freezer would be stuffed full of healthy pre-prepared food.

You were half-convinced he was just buttering, fattening his prey before getting bored and mercifully ending its life.

Tonight, you are now fully convinced.

“Did your tongue freeze in your mouth?” he asks, descending the stairs you had just walked up, thinking it was your last time ascending them. “Do you need mouth-to-mouth to warm it up again?”

You scowl at him, at how appealing the idea of Sylus’s tongue in your mouth is, even now. You hate yourself, your traitorous body for being drawn to him, even now. “What’s the point of talking, when you never listen?” you grind out, your throat sore. You hadn’t realized how much your animal wailing had wrecked your throat. At least the tears are no longer so close to the surface that they’re threatening to spill.

“I listen to every word out of your beautiful mouth,” he counters serenely, with that same inexplicable kindness that makes your heart hurt. So at odds with how you know he must really feel about you. “I just listen to more than your mouth in order to hear what you’re really saying.”

“What?” You stare at his beautiful face, the way the lamplight illuminates its sharp features for a brief moment, before the night swallows it again as he moves between lampposts on his way… somewhere. Back the way you just came from.

He spares you a glance. “Your mouth says one thing, while the rest of you is screaming something else.”

You feel the blood draining from your face. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

One corner of his beautiful mouth lifts. “Don’t play dumb, kitten. You’re too smart for it to be convincing.”

You were just falling into the river. You were just about to be free. How did you get here again? In this man’s arms, his smug, roguish smile filling you with the unease of being seen. 

“I mean, it wouldn’t kill you to be a little more honest about the fact that you want people to fight for you, right?”

You begin to struggle again, shame lancing through you, making your body unbearable to be in. You know it’s weak, to have wanted so desperately that the people you were carving from your life would see what you were doing and stop you, place their hands over yours holding the cleaver, gently push it down, down, until it dropped from your grasp—how desperately you wanted them to step into your space, hold you tightly, just like this man who sees right through you is holding you now. You wanted Tara to keep inviting you out with your ridiculous colleagues, to sing your heart out at shitty karaoke clubs, to forcibly drag you to sleepovers and arcade nights. You wanted Xavier to push himself into your apartment, try to bake something horrible in your oven, sheepishly offer to go to the bakery with you instead when the fire alarm inevitably went off. You wanted Zayne to walk through the crowd to reach you at the other end of the hallway after you identified Josephine’s body, to ask to take your hand, to ask how you were doing, even though you knew you wouldn’t have been able to answer. You wanted Rafayel to keep inventing excuses for you to visit his studio, to keep insisting that he needed you to accompany him to expositions and fancy lunches as his bodyguard. 

But none of them did in the end, and that’s okay. You kept pushing them away, because your terror of their leaving was apparently bigger than your need for their presence in your life, and at least if they were already gone, as they inevitably would be, you’d finally be free. 

But the last person you would want to see this utterly humiliating need inside you, exposing you like this, is the one looking down at you right now with deceptively soft, all-seeing eyes.

You know the feeling, this need, of pulling away and pulling away and then being heartbroken when people finally let you is weak, and pathetic.

You may experience weak and pathetic feelings, but you’re not weak or pathetic. Not at your core. You were prepared to do what was necessary, to save yourself from the pain of your emptiness, the fire raging inside your chest. You weren’t asking anything of anyone. You were doing it all on your own. 

Not a burden. 

Never a fucking burden. 

You clench your teeth, buck in Sylus’s arms.

He just holds you tightly, a straightjacket for the insanity that you’re feeling, the insanity of this man, out of all the people in your life, stripping you of your masks, flaying you so that all of your most tender, shameful parts are exposed to both him and yourself.

“Stop that. You’re just going to tire yourself further, when I need you tonight.”

Of course. The quid pro quo. He helped you with the auction, the Aether Core. Now you owe him. He doesn’t give a fuck if you live or die—he just can’t let one of his assets destroy itself before it fulfills his purpose.

You go limp in his arms. Turn your head away from him.

He continues his train of thought. “No, it wouldn’t kill you to tell the truth to your friends, so you decided to take matters into your own hands, huh? Telling the people in your life that you actually need them wouldn’t kill you, so why bother, right, when you can just jump off of a fucking bridge?” His voice sounds like the night you met him. Controlled anger. Disgust. Accusation.

Then there’s something wrong with her.

You thought you had killed everything inside of you already. The yearning for human connection. The kindness of a friend. Family holding you in their arms. You thought you had scooped out most of it, even as some of it rekindled when he pulled you back from the fall.

But the way you’re hurting now, at the memory of his hate, the reminder that the people you love won’t fight for you even if it would be fighting against you, and that this man, for all of his false generosity, never cared for you from the beginning, that his gifts and his visits were all what you knew them to be, all along—a bored predator toying with its prey before using it and consuming it. 

You let your thoughts drift back to the bridge, push your pain away. Feed it to the fire. When he’s done with you, maybe you won’t even have to jump.

“Just shut up, Sylus. I’ll help you with your problem tonight. Just promise me you’ll toss me over yourself, when you’re done with me,” you tell the night, because you still can’t bring yourself to look at him.

He stops walking. The wind is so cold against your face. You wish he’d snap your neck, right now. You’re so fucking tired.

“Look at me.” His voice is low. Menacing.

You watch the water. Wonder how long it would take if you just walked out into it, without jumping. Just walk in with your stone-weighted coat and let the cold paralyze you, the current pull you under.

“Look at me, my heart,” he whispers. The change in his tone, his bizarre endearment, has you turning your head, looking up into his face. “That is one promise I can never make you.” He looks like he’s in pain. You don’t know why. He leans down, rests his forehead against yours, hunching his big shoulders, lifting your body in his arms so he can meet you. His breath is warm against your lips. “Please don’t talk to me like that.”

You want to snort. It’s rich, coming from him—the same man who is telling you not to tell him to shut up, after all the things he said to you as he starved you, strangled you.

“Please don’t tell me to kill you. To hurt you. That hurts me.”

You stare up into his face. See the sincerity in his eyes. The wind whips your hair. He wasn’t upset that you told him to shut up, but that you asked him to kill you? “What does it matter? Aren’t you going to, in the end?”

“Why would I stop you tonight, if I wanted you to die?”

Of course he won’t answer outright. When has Sylus Qin ever answered a direct question?

“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying. Why bother stopping me, unless you just need to use me and then be done with me? I can’t be that irreplaceable. Just get someone else to put on the dress, and let me get on with my fucking life. Someone who you can train to say just the right things, at just the right time, who’ll look good in whatever fancy shit you want to put her in. There’s gotta be easier idiots than me to serve your purpose.”

He closes his eyes, breathes in the cold night air. When he opens them, you have to look away. You can’t handle whatever is in them. “I know I hurt you, when we first met. That I said cruel things to you. I’m sorry.”

You laugh, even as your heart wrenches at this strange apology. Of course he doesn’t explain what offended him so much about your existence at the beginning. Why he treated you exactly how you deserved. Probably just whatever he saw when he used his Aether Core on you. He saw the echoing chambers of your empty, fucked up heart and was enraged that it was you, and not someone worthy, who would absorb the Aether Core. “There’s never been any need to varnish the truth, Sylus. You almost choked me to death the day we met. You should have fucking finished what you started,” you sneer. “Why does no one ever finish what they start?” You think of Josephine, her researcher cronies. Think of Caleb, his promise to return, the last text he ever sent you. Your fucking parents, who you will never know.

You don’t expect an answer.

And yet, you’re surprised when Sylus wordlessly releases his hold on you. Lets you slip from his arms, sets you back on your feet. You settle in your heavy boots, the weight of your coat, the stones in your pockets, grounding you to the earth.

The lamplight shines in his silver-sheened, wind-tousled hair. His cheeks are red from the cold.

Of course. Of course.

No tool is irreplaceable.

You’re not irreplaceable.

You finally said the right thing, to push him away.

This is it. This is it. This is it. 

Your mind returns to the bridge. Your hand is holding the cleaver, dripping with the blood from the last unwelcome tether to your life.

You try to memorize his face, just as you did Zayne’s, but for some reason looking at Sylus’s face hurts you so much more despite having known him for so little time. Just a sigh, in the timeline of your life. The warm glow of his irises. The softness of his lower lip. The pride in his shoulders, his nose. 

Maybe you didn’t want to think of him before jumping because you had fallen in love with him, despite the fact that any affection he offered was counterfeit—the steady way he breathed next to you on a jog, the way he spread out on your couch, his dry humor, his intelligence, his piercing gaze, his kindness that was actually more cruel than if he had just tossed you out and never bothered to look for you again after the auction.

You knew it was fake. You knew it was calculated. You knew that the reality was, because he had told you from the very beginning—

Don’t tell me that you like me. Is this all so you can get my attention?

Clearly you’ve read too many fairytales.

And yet you had believed, in the bright moments of receiving his kind attention, in the fairytale. Just for a heartbeat. A raindrop, splattering on the ground.

You thought that you couldn’t bear to see what it looks like when Sylus finally tires of you pushing him away, and stops reaching out, as everyone else has. 

But with just a few words, you’ve finally managed to do it. He set the burden of you down, and now he’ll walk away, replace you with some other beautiful, breathing tool.

You learn in this moment that you actually can bear it. You can bear anything, as long as you know that very soon, you won’t have to bear anything at all.

“You wanted the truth?” you say, suddenly, the relief flooding through you that the worst has happened, that you’re now actually free. You think of the fabric of the dress, liquid stars over a night river, and wonder whose body it will caress, with Sylus’s big hand on her waist, his gentle fingers drifting across her collarbone, his forehead pressed against hers, for whatever ruse he needs to run tonight, on Christmas Eve.

He grows still. Watches you carefully, as if searching your face for a trick. You look back at him steadily, scooping everything inside you out, letting it splatter onto the sidewalk, here along this dark riverbank.

“Will you give it to me?” he finally asks.

“As a parting thank you gift, for cutting me loose.” You nod. Take a shuddering breath of the frigid air. “Here is me telling you the truth: you should treat the woman who ends up wearing the dress you got with more gentleness than you did me at the beginning. You could have the world eating out of the palm of your hand, if you skip the cruelty at the beginning and just treat people the way you treated me in the last few months. She’ll do anything for you, I think, if you do. Because somehow you made me love you, despite our beginning. I could bear to cut everyone else loose but you.” You laugh, and the sound is like icicles snapping, shattering on the ground. “Thank you for doing it for me, instead. It’s probably the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

You smile at him. 

You don’t know why you’re surprised that he just frowns deeply, brow furrowing. 

Well. That’s okay. You never expected him to be pleased to see your face, smiling or not.

“Good luck, Sylus.”

You turn, begin to walk back the way you came, for the second time tonight. Your thoughts are already at the bridge. You’ve been falling for months now. Soon you’ll finally hit the crystal water and shatter. 

You hope you won’t be reborn.

“You said you love me.” His deep, low voice is carried by the wind.

You stop, turn your head. “Stupid, huh?” you ask, wondering if he wants to pour salt into the wound you just willingly exposed to him.

“Why would you love someone who treated you the way I did?”

You turn fully, face him across the night, one last time. “You’re so fucking funny. I’ve always appreciated men who can make me laugh.” You shrug. “And I’m a pathetic fool. You pretended to be kind, and I lapped it up like the thirsty dog I am.”

He tilts his head, takes a step towards you. “That’s all?”

You take a step back. You don’t need him and his pretty face, his delicious scent any closer to torment you.

You offer him more truth. “Of course not.”

“What else?”

You sigh. “What does it matter? We’ll never see each other again.”

He shakes his head. “Indulge me.”

So salt, it is. You press your fingers into the most tender part of yourself, peel yourself wide open. “Your cleverness. How sweet you can be when you want something—strangely pliant, for such a big, powerful man. The self confidence you have. I could say, do anything and you did so well pretending to never be embarrassed of me. You made me believe, very briefly, that you really wanted to be with me, do anything, go anywhere, just because I was there. It’s quite impressive, really. I can see why you’re so good at business. You’re competent. You’re beautiful to look at.” You pause, shake your head in turn. “But you already know all that. You know why you’re loveable. You made me feel cherished in a way that no one ever has, even as I was pushing you away. But honestly, those are just parts of you. They don’t fully cover what it is about you that makes my heart ache when I look at you. I love you because you’re you. Even hearing your name makes my heart race. Seeing your shoes in my foyer, because they were on your feet. The curve of your wrist, because it belongs to you. I know it’s pathetic, and stupid.” You shrug again. “Can’t help it, though.”

He stares at you. 

You prod him. “Is that enough?”

“How can you ask if that’s enough, when it’s everything?”

You look at him in confusion. “Huh?”

He takes a step towards you, frowning. “Are you only telling me all this because you think I’ve finally given up and allowed you to push me away, because I set you back on your feet?”

You take a step back, as he takes another step forward.“What do you mean ‘I think’ you’ve given up?” You squint at him.

“Did you only tell me all this because you’re going straight back to the bridge to try again?”

You take another step back at the intensity of his face, his question. “What does it matter? You don’t have to worry about what happens to me after this.”

He takes two steps. “You tell me you love everything about me, and then you plan to fuck off and leave me alone again?”

Okay, this was a mistake. You don’t know why he’s mad, but he’s mad again. “I’m sorry.”

You don’t know what else to say. You’ve been sorry your whole life. This is yet another miscalculation. You should have just left. What did you think would happen if you told him how you feel? That he’d be happy about your pathetic heart bleeding pitifully for him?

He strides over to you, his long legs outpacing your own. “If you’re sorry, don’t fucking do it.”

“What?”

He looks down into your face, so close you can smell him again, you can see the fine lines around his eyes as he frowns. “If you’re really sorry for loving me, for ever meeting me—which are the only things you have to be sorry for, then make it up to me by staying. Don’t leave me. Don’t push me away anymore. Just stay, and love me.”

You huff. “Are you really that desperate for help tonight?”

He lifts his hands, places his palms on your cheeks, his long fingers dipping into your hair. “No, I’m desperate for you tonight. It’s Christmas—I don’t give a shit about the holidays, but I know you do. I want to spend it with you. You made me watch you jump off of a goddamned bridge. What would have happened if I hadn’t already been on my way to you?” He sounds so upset. You’ve never seen him like this. The fear is naked on his lovely face.

“What the fuck are you talking about? What does it matter? You said you could get someone else for the dress, for tonight.” You’re so confused. Why is he acting like this?

“I didn’t say any of that. You suggested that I replace you with someone else, I set you on the ground to make sure you were looking at my face, that you were listening to my words when I told you that you’re irreplaceable. That no one else will do. That after watching you almost die, I can’t continue being cautious and trying not to frighten you away anymore.”

“You… what?” 

“You love me. Right? You weren’t lying?” he looks uncertain, like he can’t quite believe it.

You can’t bring yourself to lie. The truth is out. You’re witnessing the fallout. There’s no point in backpedaling. “Yeah.”

He nods, once, decisively. “Okay. That’s enough.”

You sigh in relief. Maybe he’ll let you go, finally, finally.

He checks his chunky watch, the platinum flashing in the lamplight. “There’s still time.”

“Time for what?”

“For my plans tonight. Come.” He closes the distance, sweeps you into his arms again, cradles your body against him like something fragile.

“What plans? Listen—” you start to argue.

“No. Now it’s my turn to speak, and for you to listen.” he squeezes you tightly. “Today was the last day you spend alone. If you can’t live for yourself, then you can live for me, until you remember why you want to live for yourself again. No matter what you say, or what you do to get rid of me, it’s not going to work.”

You can’t even process what is happening. “What are you—?” you begin, but he cuts you off again.

His voice is strained, rough. “You love me. So you have to take responsibility. You have to stay.”

You don’t know what to say. 

I’m desperate for you tonight.

You can’t believe this. He hates you. He has hated you from the beginning. He was so kind to you because he wanted to use you for something he never bothered explaining to you. He needs you for your resonance, your amplification of his powers.

You’re irreplaceable. No one else will do.

Because of your resonance?

I don’t give a shit about the holidays, but I know you do.

He carries you along the wind-swept riverbank, through the frigid night. Stars above, stars below.

You made me watch you jump off a goddamned bridge.

You didn’t think anyone was left to care.

You were so careful, severing ties like arteries, so that you wouldn’t leave the world with more pain than you found it. It was already bleeding so much.

You just were so tired of bleeding with it.

As if sensing the turn of your thoughts, Sylus carries you to the edge of the river’ embankment, where the concrete falls away, drops into the water.

He sets you down again, but doesn’t let you go. His big hands slide down the outside of your coat, dip into your pockets.

He pulls out a smooth stone. Turns it in his hands.

“I’ll never understand how someone so light can weigh so heavily in me,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “But you’re a weight I’ll carry for as long as you let me.”

His ember eyes flick back to yours. He hands you the stone.

“This is your conviction that the world won’t miss you, if you’re gone. You will hold it in your hand, one last time. And then you will throw it in the water.” He wraps your cold fingers around the stone. Somehow, his fingers are still warm.

You grasp it, look up into his face. You see yourself in them. It hurts, to be seen so clearly. You’re so ashamed. “How did you know?”

He closes his eyes, shakes his head a little. Opens them. “I looked into your soul, the day we met. I know you’re too soft-hearted in this life to kill yourself if you thought it would hurt someone else. You don’t carry that spite, anymore.”

In this life.

Anymore.

You can’t bring yourself to ask him what he means. You only know that once again, Sylus Qin has seen inside you, has seen you, in a way no one else ever has.

“But I don’t think anyone would miss me. I made sure of it.”

He huffs. “You’re a fool, if you actually believe that. The people you’ve pushed away still love you. But if you can’t believe that yet, then you can’t pretend to yourself that you’re disposable anymore, if for no other reason than I’m standing here now, telling you that I would miss you.”

You think of Tara, sitting on your desk, nudging a steaming latte she got for you on her way to work toward you, asking if you’ve heard the latest about Simone and Andrew.

You think of Xavier, walking you to your door at the end of a nasty wanderer encounter, reaching out, brushing a bit of mud off your cheek, then smearing it across his own cheek. See, we match now.

You think of Zayne, waiting across a busy hallway, patient, letting you choose to approach him, and respecting you by letting you walk away.

You think of Raf, the beauty he shares with you with every photo, the funny strings of emoji that don’t demand an answer.

“How do you know, that they would miss me?” you ask Sylus quietly.

“I’ve been watching you for a long time, sweetie. Do you think I haven’t seen your friends’ faces when you walk away from them?”

You clutch the stone in your hand. “I don’t think I can change my thoughts, my conviction, just like that.”

“You love me, so you have to try. Throw it. Every time you try to drag it back up, I’ll remind you that you threw it away, and you can let it stay at the bottom of the river.” He reaches up, caresses your cheek with his fingertips.

You want to cry. You want to cry, because you’re so afraid. If you let yourself believe that people love you, you have to stay, for them. You have to feel, every day, the weight of grief, of existence, the pain of being alive, of being inside yourself, your body. The hollowness will return, even with your friends, even with Sylus filling most of it.

It’s like he can read your thoughts as his eyes devour your face, as his fingers tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. “I won’t let you pretend, anymore. You love me, and I will not survive if you aren’t here with me. So you have to stay. We don’t have to accept that life is a curse. We can fight back. Make it something better.”

“I’m scared,” you say.

His eyes are so tender, as he watches your mouth form your biggest truth, set it free in the night. “I will protect you, until you can protect yourself again. There’s nothing to be afraid of, if we’re together.”

You want to believe him. Your heart beats painfully behind your ribs. The moon is a sharp crescent in the sky. 

But you’re a weight I’ll carry for as long as you let me.

“You’ll really stay?”

He finally smiles, a faint Sylus smile that feels like a grin. “I told you. Today was the last day you’ll ever be alone. You can’t get rid of me now, no matter what you do, or say.”

You turn, holding the stone in your cold hands. You think of all the lies you’ve been telling yourself, about your friends, your place in their lives, because you were so tired of living with an unnameable grief, one you carried inside you long before Caleb and Josephine died, but whose loss compounded, made unbearable the original sorrow.

And I will not survive if you aren’t here with me.

You don’t know why he feels this way. Does he love you too? He hasn’t said so. Can he even love you, in the way you love him?

Does it matter? 

It’s enough, that he says he’ll stay. That he wants you to stay alive. That he’ll help remind you, when the whispers drift back in your mind, telling you that you’re just a burden, that no one actually loves you, would miss you when you’re gone. When the hollowness echoes so loudly it’s all you can hear.

You lean back, lift the stone, throw it as hard as you can, as far as you can, into the rushing river.

You don’t hear its splash over the wind.

You turn back to Sylus.

He dips into your pocket again. Pulls out another stone. “Your guilt, for having lived. For having been born.”

You take it from him. Let your mind drift. Feel along the contours of your memories, the jagged, missing pieces, all the way back to when it fades to black. You throw the stone.

You don’t see it sink to the riverbed.

He dips into your pocket again. “Your shame, for needing others. For being human, and imperfect. For not being able to do it all alone. For wanting to be loved.”

You take the stone. “Is it really okay?” you ask, helplessly. There’s no point pretending everything he is saying isn’t true. “To want these things, when I haven’t earned them?”

He steps closer to you. Places his hands on your shoulders, draws you in. “There is no okay, or not okay. There is no crime and punishment, no transgression, no sin. How can it be shameful, to want what you were born to want? Why does love have to be earned, instead of just given?”

You lean into him, press your face into his chest, his thick wool coat soft against your skin.

“I don’t know.”

He reaches into your pocket, places a stone in your other hand. “One for your shame, one for the idea that love must be earned. Throw them.”

You lean back again, and it’s already too far away from him. But you throw each stone, and they disappear under the cold water.

“That’s enough, for now. We’ll take the rest home.” He draws you back into his arms. Lifts you without effort, stone-filled pockets and all. The weight of all of you.  “When you have thoughts of shame, of guilt, of not being loved, we’ll come back. You’ll throw them again. Until they’re all gone. We’ll gather other stones, when other feelings make life unbearable. I’ll come with you, as many times as you need.”

Sylus carries you along the path back to the road that snakes along the river. His motorcycle gleams under a bright lamppost.

He settles a helmet on your head, checks to make sure it’s secure. Puts his own on. You sit behind him, cling to him. Rest your head against his broad back, close your eyes. The motorcycle is loud, and he drives it carefully through the busy, holiday bustling streets, until he reaches your apartment building. He holds your hand as he leads you through the front doors, as he stands quietly beside you in the elevator, his red, warm eyes never leaving your face in the elevator mirrors. He leads you to your front door, waits patiently while you unlock it with your cold finger.

In the hallway, he kneels at your feet, unlaces your tall boots while you look down at him, the soft fall of his silver hair, his big, nimble fingers working the laces.

He then removes his own boots. His coat. He’s wearing a garishly bright Christmas sweater, with prancing reindeer. He hangs his coat on a peg in the wall. He turns, slowly unzips yours. Eyes flicking between the zipper and your face. He gently lifts it from your body, again like it’s weightless, even though it’s still filled with stones. He pulls it from your arms, hangs it next to his.

He pulls you further into your place.

The first thing you notice is the warmth. It’s so warm, like someone came in while you were gone and turned on the heating.

The next thing you notice is the Christmas tree. The one you didn’t get this year, because the thought of the holidays without Caleb and your grandmother was unbearable.

Beautifully, tastefully decorated. Silver and gold, twinkling lights. Its pine scent fills your place.

Sylus moves to a record player on one of the cabinets along your living room wall. A record player that wasn’t here before you went to work today. He fiddles with the arm, and suddenly Joni Mitchell’s River fills your house.

It’s coming on Christmas

They’re cutting down trees

They're putting up reindeer

And singing songs of joy and peace

Oh I wish I had a river I could skate away on

He walks back to you. “Is this okay?”

I wish I had a river so long

I would teach my feet to fly

Whoa I wish I had a river I could skate away on

The music flows around you, paralyzing you. You stare into his face, into the warm glow of his eyes. How could you have missed this? The way he’s looking at you now? Through all the long months since the auction?

He tried hard to help me

You know, he put me at ease

And he loved me so naughty

Made me weak in the knees

Oh, I wish I had a river I could skate away on

The words wash over you, through you. The scent of pine warms you, memories without form filling you with the sense of home, safety, love.

I made my baby cry

I'm so hard to handle

I'm selfish and I'm sad

Now I've gone and lost the best baby

That I ever had

Oh I wish I had a river I could skate away on

He takes your hands in his, thumbs across your skin. “Is it too much?”

You think of how cold it was, standing on the guardrail of the bridge. 

You were running toward the bridge, while Sylus was filling your home with warmth.

What would have happened if I hadn’t already been on my way to you?

You think of him spreading out on your couch, as a fever raged through your body. You think of your freezer, filled with food. You think of the takeout boxes, still steaming, sitting in front of your closed door.

You think of him hanging delicate ornaments on a fragrant tree. 

I made my baby cry

You shake your head, the enormity of what almost happened filling you. The enormity of the choice you made, that you enacted, until Sylus pulled you back from the rushing dark.

You start to shake.

“Kitten?”

“It’s not too much,” you say, teeth chattering. “It’s wonderful. Thank you.”

He stares down at you, seems to make a decision. “Shower. Now.”

You nod, moving away from him, but he follows. 

Inside your small bathroom, he takes up the entire space. He peels off your hunter’s uniform, tosses it beyond the open bathroom door. His gaze flicks from your undershirt, your underwear, to your face. “Do you want me to leave?”

You think of the dark water, an impact that never came. Sylus plugging in the record player, choosing a record with one of your favorite Christmas songs on it. Placing it delicately on the turntable.

“No. You promised you’d never leave me alone again.”

He smiles a little. “I mean, leave the bathroom.”

“No. You promised you’d never leave me alone again,” you repeat.

He stares into your eyes. Nods. Lifts your undershirt. He reaches behind you, unhooks your bra with the same agility that he unlaced your boots. He lifts it from your body, watches you as he lifts it to his nose, inhales.

You shiver.

He tosses the bra behind him. Kneels. Pulls your underwear from your hips, down your legs. You step out of them. He stands again.

He leans over, his ridiculous, festive sweater soft against your cheek, as he reaches past you to turn on the shower faucet. As he messes with the knobs until steam begins to fill the small space. He nudges you forward, past the sliding glass door and into the small shower cabin, letting the hot water pour over you. You turn, watch him through the clear glass. He picks up your underwear, watches you as he lifts it to his nose, inhales as he did with your bra. His eyes close for a moment, and then open. He tucks the little slip of fabric into his pants pocket, sits on the closed toilet, rests his elbows on his knees, and continues to watch you.

You let the hot water flow over your tired, cold body. You stare at Sylus’s face, let it fill your vision, blot out the rushing river, the impact that never came, the idea of everything you would have missed, if he hadn’t pulled you out. Everything you would have missed, in such a short amount of time. What else would you miss, if he hadn’t caught you? If he could give you so much within an hour, how much would you have missed in a day? In a week?

What have you been fighting, this whole time? 

Just yourself. 

You think of the stones at the bottom of the riverbed, instead of your body. Your conviction that you’re not loved, your guilt, your shame, instead of you.

You stare at the man who handed you each one, and told you to get rid of them, instead of yourself. The man sitting in your tiny bathroom, filling it with his big body, his even bigger presence, staring at you, staring at him.

You stop shaking.

Reach for the body wash, lather your hands. Run your hands along your body, under your armpits. He frowns, eyes on your hands. You palm your breasts, dip between your legs.

He lowers his head, eyes still on your hands, rests his full lips on his long steepled fingers.

You finish lathering your body, let the water wash it away. He’s too far away, even this close, on the other side of the glass.

As you turn off the water, he stands, lifts one of your towels from the rack. Holds it out for you. You step into it, him, let him wrap it around you. He turns you both, so that you’re looking in the bathroom mirror, which is mostly fogged.

“Better?” he asks.

You nod, soaking in his warmth at your back, the steam of the bathroom. 

You have a question, a question you can’t bring yourself to say out loud yet.

You reach out with one hand. Trace a finger through the fogged mirror.

Sylus watches you, resting his chin on your shoulder. 

Letters, a question.

Do you like me? Circle yes or no

Sylus smiles again, lifts an eyebrow. He reaches out, takes your hand in his. He circles no with your finger.

You frown, heart sinking, but Sylus just whispers, “Patience, kitten,” and flattens your palm across like. Guides your finger again, just above the erased like, drags it through the moisture in an elegant script.

love

He then gently sets your hand down. Lifts his own, circles with one long finger, yes.

He watches your reaction in the mirror.

You had no idea.

This whole time, you had no idea, even though he was showing you, with every ‘chance’ encounter, his pestering you with questions about work, life, his silly stories about the N109 Zone. His packages at your door. Fever medication, a big glass of water shoved into your hands.

You think of the rushing water, what almost happened. What you almost missed.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you let me believe you still hated me?”

He looks down at you now, away from your reflection in the mirror. His eyes trail your face, down your curved neck. He palms the back of your neck, his thumb drifting along the side, over a mole there.

“Have you heard of the myth that where we have moles is where someone kissed us in a past life?”

Even if so much has changed between you in just the last few hours, you’re reassured that Sylus Qin still can’t answer a straightforward question with a straightforward answer.

You shake your head. “No, I had never heard of that.”

Sylus smiles, and it looks a little sad. He leans down, presses the softest of kisses against your skin, the mole there. “Like most human legends, it’s a pretty lie. Not quite true.”

You laugh. “I could have guessed as much.” You tilt your neck, enjoying the press of his warm lips on your skin for the first time.

He opens his mouth, runs his teeth over where he just kissed you. Bites, gently.

You shiver again. Press your neck into, instead of away from his teeth.

He bites harder.

You gasp.

“I was afraid I’d frighten you with the enormity of my feelings for you, when in your mind, we’d only just met,” he murmurs against your neck, his saliva, the indentation of his teeth hot on your skin.

He bites again, presses himself into your ass through the towel. You realize he’s hard.

You forget about the last part of his sentence. Had you not only just met?

You lift your hands, let the towel unfurl from around your body, let it drop to the floor.

You almost died tonight.

What have you been fighting this whole time?

Just yourself. 

He tried hard to help me

You know, he put me at ease

You turn in his arms. He’s breathing hard, cheeks pink.

“You love me?”

He closes his eyes. Opens them. Shakes his head. “Love isn’t intense enough.”

“Adore me?” You lift your arms, wrap them around his neck. Pull his face closer to your own.

He shakes his head again. “Still not enough.”

“You won’t survive without me?” You lift on your toes, his soft sweater almost unbearable against your sensitive nipples.

He nods. “You’re getting closer. Can’t breathe without you. When I saw you jump…” He swallows, thickly. “You might as well have pulled me down with you, beloved. If it ever gets to be too much again, take me with you. I’ll never leave you alone again. Promise me the same,” he demands, big, calloused hands running up your naked sides, the fabric of his dark jeans rough against your body, where your thighs meet, as he helplessly nudges against you again with his hips, his hard dick behind his zipper.

I'm so hard to handle

I'm selfish and I'm sad

“I wouldn’t have known, unless you told me,” you breathe against his lips. “Promise that you’ll tell me how you’re feeling from now on, and I’ll promise to take you with me if I can’t leave the stones in the riverbed, even with you here.”

His voice is deep, rough like the fabric of his pants against your sensitive skin. “Deal.” He closes the distance, presses his soft lips to yours. Licks into your mouth.

And he loved me so naughty

Made me weak in the knees

His hands drift down your sides as his tongue dips into your throat, as he swallows your noises of pleasure, just from kissing him, his hands on you. He grips your ass, urges your legs around his waist. He carries you out of the tiny, steaming bathroom, manages not to knock you against the doorway, or into any furniture on the way to your bedroom, even as he continues to kiss you, as your hands in his soft hair probably block his peripheral view. He lays you down on your bed, the puff of your duvet. It’s so warm in your place that you’re not even shivering. You watch as he pulls his cheerful sweater and undershirt over his head, tosses them to the floor. As he unzips himself, hastily yanks down his pants and boxers, his socks. He blankets you with his big body.

You wrap your arms around him, pull him tightly to you, arch your breasts into his chest. He leans down, runs his nose along your cheek, inhales the scent of your hair at your temple. You just feel each other, for a long stretch of time. His soft chest hair against your skin, the silken skin of his dick between your thighs where he just leisurely rubs himself against you, as your palms run down the muscles of his back, the line of his spine. You’ve refused to think of him like this, ever since he wrapped his hand around your throat. You couldn’t bear his beauty, through all the long months that followed. You fled, every time your heart raced at the flash of silver as he approached you, met you where you were, over and over and over.

But now he says he has loved you, through it all. That he’ll never leave you alone again.

You let yourself feel him, under your hands, under your tongue, as you lick into his ear, feel him shiver. As you squeeze your thighs together, offering him a tight, snug space for him to keep pleasuring himself, as you feel your own wetness begin to coat your inner thighs, his cock, the longer you feel him on top of you, inhale the scent of his skin, the ever-present gun oil, the cloves, his clean sweat underneath it all.

After a lifetime, or only a few minutes, he leans down, says softly into your ear. “I want you. Tell me you want me too.”

“Can’t you tell?” you ask, bucking a little, squeezing him with your legs again.

He makes a low, pleasured sound in his throat. “I want to hear you say it. You’ve gone through a lot tonight. I need to know you actually want this. That you’re not just—” his breath hitches, as you move your hips again, as his dick slips between your wet, soft places. “That you’re not too tired to say otherwise, not thinking straight.”

“Use your Aether Core on me. Then you’ll know that my body is telling you what my mouth would, if I said the words.” You smile at him, teasing. 

I wish I had a river so long

I would teach my feet to fly

You had wanted to fly. You had settled for flying for a brief moment, before shattering. 

But Sylus is offering you constant flight, under, over, along his crow’s wings.

You think of the rushing water. The tide of cars behind you, the wind whipping your hair. You almost missed this. You don’t want to waste any more time.

He lowers his forehead to yours, breathes, speaks against your saliva-slick lips with his own. “I don’t want to use my Aether Core on you. I want the words in your mouth, in your heart. I want your free will, your freely given consent. I almost lost you because I tried to force you, at the beginning. You believed I hated you, this whole time. Don’t ask me to force you again, my heart.”

You understand. You accept his request, his demand. “I want you, Sylus.”

He exhales, shifts above you, slips his wet cock between your legs, slides into your body with gentle, firm, graceful waves of his hips.

You whine, the feeling of fullness layering into the pleasure of the warmth of his skin, the taste of his tongue. For once, the feelings inside you threatening to burst out of your skin are so good, instead of painful, so pleasurable, that you can barely stand it. 

He kisses you, his velvet tongue big, heavy in your mouth. You suck, whine again as he lifts a hand, palms your breast, begins to thrust into you.

You are filled with him. His warmth. The size of him.

You widen your legs, wrap them around his thick ass. Urge him with your own body to move faster, to fuck you harder. He gives you everything you want. Just the pressure of his body against yours has you coming, the release bright, sudden—you shake with it.

Your pleasure seems to trigger his. He grunts, roots into you, buries his teeth in your neck, bites where he bit you before, over the mole on your neck. The sting makes you clench, and he whimpers, groans, comes with a jerk of his hips.

He slows, still filling you, still pleasuring you, as he lifts his head to look into your eyes.

You stare at each other, breath mingling, warm between you. 

You smile at him. 

He smiles at you. Nudges your nose with his.

“Can we do that again?” you ask.

He laughs, low and surprised. “Yeah,” he says, kissing you softly. “Just tell me, and I’m yours, anytime, anyplace.”

“I’m telling you.” You move your hips, feel his cum drip drown your ass. Feel him gasp at your movement.

“Now?” He’s surprised again.

“Problem?” you grin at him. 

“Fuck no.” He kisses you, hard. Slips out of you. Flips you over, lifts your hips with one big hand, pressing his other between your shoulder blades.

He presses his cock back between your legs, the slide easy and wet, and fucks you until you come again, until he blankets your back with his sweat-slicked, matted-hair chest.

“Was that enough, your highness?” he teases.

“I’m telling you,” you pant, wondering what he’ll do. 

“As you wish,” he murmurs, before flipping you again. Before watching your face as he slowly, leisurely works himself, his cum into you, makes you come again. 

In the morning, the sky through your windows is heavy, dark, gray. You wake slowly. Turn your head, find Sylus’s sleeping face next to yours on the pillow. He’s lying on his stomach. You take in the dark sweep of his lashes, his generous mouth, slightly parted.

You slip out of the bed, use the bathroom. You wander into the living room, gaze at the Christmas tree, its twinkling lights.

It’s Christmas.

Caleb and your grandmother are dead. 

But you’re still alive.

Your body aches from Sylus’s efforts, but it feels good. For once, it feels good to be inside your body. To breathe deeply.

You think of riverstones, sinking deep in the riverbed.

You know that the feelings tied to them will try to rise, clawing to the surface again.

We’ll gather other stones, when your feelings make life unbearable. I’ll come with you, as many times as you need.

Your eyes drift to the top of the Christmas tree. It’s empty.

“I thought we should finish it together.” Sylus’s warm arms wrap around you from behind. He leans over your shoulder, kisses your cheek softly. “Do you want to do the honors?”

You smile, wrapping your hands over his forearms around your waist. “You’re taller.”

“Use me as much as you like, kitten.” He turns, grabs a pretty golden glass tree-topper from your kitchen table, hands it to you. He lifts you up onto one shoulder, easily, and you fit it gently over the highest point of the tree. He holds you against him, as he lowers you. You slide along his body, until he sets you gently on your feet again.

You both stand, admiring it for a moment. It’s beautiful, like the rest of the decorations.

You hug him, look up into his face.

“Merry Christmas, Sylus.”

He smiles down at you, ruby eyes twinkling with reflected light from the tree. 

You would have missed this moment, and all the moments like it, if Sylus hadn’t stopped you last night. You shudder, hug him more tightly. 

You know your feelings will return. That no one person can solve a lifetime of wounds. But you promised him that you’d try. That you’d stay. You can only do your best.

You hear your phone vibrating, reluctantly pull away from him, head to your coat in the hallway where you thought you left it last night, but Sylus stops you. He points at your kitchen island. Your phone is lying on the counter. You look at him in confusion, but go to check it.

You’re shocked at how many missed texts you have.

From Tara.

Xavier.

Your eyes widen.

Zayne, who you thought you had blocked, months ago.

Rafayel, who you’re sure you blocked last night.

Each one is a response from a text you never sent. Telling them Merry Christmas. Telling them you love them. Telling them you hope to spend time with them soon.

None of them shame you, call you out on your behavior of the last year. Even Zayne simply suggests that you try a new bakery, that you’ve been in his thoughts, that he’s relieved you felt comfortable enough to reach out. Rafayel sends a bunch of firework emojis, suggests blowing shit up on the beach for New Year’s.

You turn to Sylus.

He looks steadily back at you, silver hair sleep-tousled, wine-bright eyes glowing.

Your eyes feel hot, and you realize you’re crying, the tears fat on your cheeks, dripping down your neck. 

This is the first time you’ve cried since you woke up, your ears deafening, Caleb’s necklace bright in the reflected fire.

Sylus walks over to you. Leans down, licks the tears from your cheeks with his warm tongue, one after the other. He kisses you, ignoring your suddenly snotty nose, your morning breath.

“If it’s too much, we can take it slow. We can throw more stones in the river. But please answer your friends. You need them. And you’re a fool, if you can’t see that they need you too, if that makes you feel better about your own need.”

You continue to cry as you wrap your arms around Sylus’s neck. As he gently sways with you, to music that isn’t playing. He hums, and you think it’s Joni Mitchell’s The River, but you can’t be sure. You smile against his chest.

A thought occurs to you.

“Last night, you said there was still time. That you had plans for us, a pretty dress for me. What did we miss?”

Sylus sighs, holds you closer against himself. “Don’t worry about it.”

You stop, look up into his face. “What did you have planned, Sylus? Are you sorry we missed it?”

He smiles at you. “Oh yes, so sorry I got to spend all night fucking you instead of going to a holiday concert featuring the organ.” His voice drips sarcasm. “But we can go tonight, if you’d like to make it up to me.”

You laugh, bury your face back into his chest. “And here I had planned to suck your cock while watching a black and white Christmas film marathon tonight,” you say forlornly. You smile into his chest as he chokes. “Oh well, the concert it is.”

He just laughs, rich and deep, and continues to sway you slowly in your living room.

“Merry Christmas, my heart,” Sylus says against your hair, in your pine scented apartment, as snow begins to fall outside your windows, as your phone continues to vibrate, filled with the love of your friends.

Here you are. Again.

You’re so grateful, to be here, again.

[colourstreakgryffin]

Idk if requests are open but if they are may I request a Mammon x plus sized curvy reader with AuHDHD if that's alright?

Oh… darn. Well, Mammon probably won’t be lenient or nice about it. He is that type of guy so whilst he’s a bit offensive, I hope it’ll be okay. I’m not personally mocking being plus sized or having AuHDHD, I just doubt Mammon would be nice about it at first— but anyway

Mammon- Greatest Self

Straight up… Mammon is pretty goddamn crude and a big selfish bastard. He doesn’t apologise for anything he does and he doesn’t regret being judgemental or discriminative since he only cares for himself

So, when he sees you… a ‘unappealing plus sized brat with a fucked up head’ that’s apparently his new employee, has him apathetic and disinterested so he doesn’t even care to be nice nor ease up his toxicity as your boss

Mammon didn’t really fear insulting your physical body or your psychological issues. He finds both of them very annoying and he cannot bring himself to be patient with you, so for the first few months he had you hired. He treated you badly…

However, for the first time in his life, the Sin of Greed… genuinely felt something bad for somebody else upon making his nasty remarks when he saw the way you were upset over him

Mammon doesn’t know why but he ended up changing his attitude with you since he couldn’t take the sharp stabs in his heart anymore! He can’t insult you without hurting himself. Eventually, he completely silences his bad treatment and tries his best to compliment you

Mammon actually really don’t believe that disorders exist at all and when you, when gaining back trust to your Circus-decored sin boss, explain what AuHDHD is… he does his end to not laugh at the nonsense and listens up. He doesn’t get all this medicine and this treatments yet he keeps trying to understand you anyway

Mammon likes his people attractive and thin and curvy. Whilst he doesn’t think plus sized is attractive at first, he also thinks that there is a POSSIBLE chance that a plus sized curvy person can be hot and eventually, he does view you that way… your plush curves is soft and squishable

Honestly, he thirsts over you like crazy. Mammon loves to kiss and suck your soft plus-sized belly and waist. Feel your bigger thighs and your nice thick ass… he loves the same you feel, you’re amazing and he basically pants over your body

This is a lot less sexual but romantic passion, Mammon doesn’t find anybody sexually thriving but romantically thriving. It’s why he likes your body, he likes to dress you up and put you nice clothing and shoes… oh, it makes him flutter!

Don’t worry, Mammon will NEVER let anybody insult your body or your conditions! He did previously but he doesn’t anymore since you’re now his beloved partner so if anybody even dares to make fun of you, he’ll devour them whole with no hesitation whatsoever

NOBODY hurts his beloved little kitten!

Mammon is the type of pampering lover, he enjoys giving you all kinds of wonderful presents and items pretty much 24/7 since his love language is in the form of ‘receiving gifts’. It’s spoiling but it’s his best strength, getting the best things since whilst he hates spending money. He’ll spend it on him and you

Mammon is not usually a patient man at all but he is always doing his best for you since he has some weird obsession over you that he can’t explain at al! He does his best to be patient with your conditions and understand your different attitudes aren’t intentional… even if your tones may offend him

Mammon may like you a lot but he is still a awfully greedy money-eyed prick so he’ll market you in whatever your best skill is so he can profit from it but he will gladly give you… a proportion of that income gain. He only slightly exploits you where he exploits everybody 100%

Mammon enjoys having you match him in clothing or accessorises! So, he likes to get you to wear whatever he is at the time, I’m afraid you’ll have to get use to this little cute thing until he gets bored of it… which will probably take some time so he’ll make you his Mini Me and admire how cute you look!

Mammon treats you like a Prince/Princess/Royal amongst the workplace so you get special privileges, and his employees do as you want when you want by his command. If you’re hungry, they give you food first. If you need time alone to handle your AuDHD, they are to leave right away

Mammon personally doesn’t think you need to do anything for anybody else so when you tell him, after a long day, about people saying you need to lose your weight. He’ll basically say; ‘you don’t need to change for anybody’ but if you ever want to change your plus-sized form, he’ll be there to support you… in the most Mammon way

Now. To top up your relationship with the Aussie Greed King, Mammon is not the most perfect boyfriend and he’s always trying to improve his ugliest traits to not hurt your feelings so he needs time but he does love you and he’ll show it

“Eh? Do’n wan’a perform this year, babe? Ya’d make a’ adorable one, ya know. Crikey, crikey. Ay, I was just saying, doll… don’t need to hiss at me like that. Lucifer’s will. Would ma’ performin’ with ya help at all?”

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Siren!Leon headcannons 🧜🏼‍♂️🐚

A/N: this was so much fun!!! I got a little carried away, but I feel there's still so much I could add here, so let me know if you want to see more! There's not smut in this one sadly, because um... idk.. how that would work?

~Fi 🐝

《Prompt》: lovely request by @maviettt is here!

《Warnings》: brief mentions of gore and Leon eating people, obessesive and possessive Leon, some angst, insecure Leon :(, lots of luv for the fish boy <3

《Word count》: 2.4k

Please don't copy my work! I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

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Siren!Leon, who spends his days luring all the pretty sailors to their demise, having himself a tasty meal of naivety and pure unawareness. I mean, what girl wouldn't be enarmoured with this handsome and so kind merman, right? With his blue, ocean eyes and shiny scales.

Siren!Leon, who lurs them in with promises of love and care, only to yank them into the deep sea and tear into them with his pointy teeth. He's not too fond of doing this, but he doesn't really have a choice, and you get hardened over the years.

Siren!Leon, who casually swims through a nearby Lagoon, catching a glimpse of you and your sisters lounging in the sun. You're laughing, and Leon swears that you're the Siren in this scenario. You look so pretty with your colorful, glittery tail. Your damp hair that's drying up from the salty water. The small trinkets braided into your locks and hung from your body.

Siren!Leon, who is always drawn back to this Lagoon, always wanting to see you again. He thinks you're a bright, shining pearl, and the world is your oyster. But he also understands that you're off limits to him. You would be scared of him, wouldn't you? You're such a pretty thing. His treasure.

Siren!Leon, who admires you from afar, always hoping to see you smile once again. He's infatuated with you. He's sighing dreamily when he sees you throw your head back in laughter or hiding your giggles behind your hand.

Siren!Leon, who looks for you after he hasn't seen you at the Lagoon for a while, only to find you washed up on the beach, all tangled up in a net. You look so... dry. The colors of your tail are dulled, and your skin doesn't look like it was kissed by the morning dew anymore.

Siren!Leon, who is so conflicted. He needs to help you, but what if he scares you? He doesn't want to risk that. You're the favorite part of his day! Alas, he relents and carefully swims up to you as close as he can before gently tugging you back into the water by your tail.

Siren!Leon, who holds you until you've gotten some of the ocean's energy into you. He can basically watch you flourish as you're returned to your home. But his heart breaks when you gain back consciousness and immediately try and get away from him.

Siren!Leon, who tries to explain to you that he just wants to help. You're still bound in the net, and you can't swim properly like this. You're obviously skeptical. Acting all kind and luring people in was kind of his deal as a Siren, after all. But there's something so soft about his voice and expressions.

Siren!Leon, who truly has no bad intentions, but he has to restrain himself from pouncing on you the second you give him the go-ahead to free you from the net with his sharp teeth.

Siren!Leon, who doesn't miss your blush, when his lips brush against your skin while he's chewing you out of your bounds. He can't help himself and grins, and accidentally bumps his lips against your scales more just to see you react.

Siren!Leon, who is quite flustered himself when you thank him and tell him that he's not as scary as you thought he would be. And when you tell him you like the color of his scales and his cute little fin ears, he is over the moon!!

Siren!Leon who tries to hide his malicious side from you as best as he can just because he is terrified that you would be scared of him. Maybe even disgusted. He doesn't want that.

Siren!Leon, who sees you wave to him on his usual morning round past the Lagoon, and he almost passes out. Yeah, he had saved you, but for you to so boldly be nice to him in front of your sisters? He's thinking of that for the rest of the day.

Siren!Leon, who gets bolder each day, waving back with a smile, maybe even greeting you and your sisters until he fully swims up to all of you! He's kinda crushed when your sisters scatter like little anchovies. He just wanted to say hi :(

Siren!Leon, who gets comforted and assured by you, saying that "they don't know you like I do." You explain how, although Leon is a Siren, he's so sweet! He saved you from certain death, after all.

Siren!Leon, who eventually gets taken in by your sisters, and he gets to lounge in the Lagoon with you. Some are still a little weary, but as time goes on, they all warm up to that smile and those pretty eyes.

Siren!Leon, who only has eyes for you. You are the sun in his sky, the moon that guides his tides. He's head over heels for you. It started off as forbidden glances, admiring your beauty, and now he is making you laugh and spending as much time with you as he can.

Siren!Leon, who knows you're falling for him too when you start bringing him little treasures and trinkets that you found. It's usually a shiny rock or a seashell, but sometimes you bring him valuable shinies from recent shipwrecks that you're not supposed to be around.

Siren!Leon, whose heart pumps out of his chest when he sees all your sisters nudging you in his direction with your hand behind your back and a red face. He revels in your cuteness when you shyly press the rock into his hand and speed off.

Siren!Leon, who starts calling you his treasure or his pearl. That's exactly what you are to him, and he needs the whole seven seas to know that. Plus, your pretty smile and the kiss to the cheek he gets from you after is a nice bonus.

Siren!Leon, who lets you decorate him and his tail when you run out of space on your own. You tie cloth and braided seaweed around his fin and arms, adding one of your little trinkets at the end. He wears them with pride because everyone knows they're from you.

Siren!Leon, who loves to braid your hair for you. You're always finding more pretty things to put in your hair, and you can't see the back, obviously, but he loves doing it for you. He gets so good to the point that he's doing all of your sisters' hair, too.

Siren!Leon, who rarely goes back to luring humans to their death, simply because he would rather spend time with you. He's acquired a taste for small fish, which unfortunately can't match the salivating taste of humam flesh, but he's willing to give it all up for you. he's still so worried that you'll catch him one day and see the monster he truly is.

Siren!Leon, who sits in the small tide pool close to a bay, soaking up the moonlight with you, and the way it makes you look ethereal. You look even prettier like this than in the sun. The silvery streaks reflect off of your features so beautifully, and he knows that he's doomed.

Siren!Leon, who spends all of his nights with you, not wanting that image of your lovely self dipped in the rays of Mother Moon to go away. He loves talking to you at night. Sharing quiet stories and tales interrupted by soft giggles.

Siren!Leon, who kisses you for the first time on the beach where he saved you. He melts when he finally feels your lips on his, and he's holding you so tight and full of love that you can't imagine being anywhere else.

Siren!Leon, who found a pearl at the bottom of the ocean, your favorite color, and he gives it to you as a gift under one of those moonlit nights. He's confessing his love to you, giving the pearl to you as a sign of always wanting to be with you.

Siren!Leon who doesn't know whether to blush and hide or be giddy like an idiot when he sees you wearing his pearl the next morning, showing it off to all your sisters who are all in awe of its beauty.

Siren!Leon, who loves to spend his days lying in the sand with you, playing with the many small braids and twists that adorn your silky locks. There's not much to do, but you make the days go by so fast.

Siren!Leon, who goes ballistic when your sisters rush to tell him that you've been captured by some filthy pirates while you were out exploring a new shipwreck, trying to find more odds and ends for your collection.

Siren!Leon, who can feel his blood boil in his veins. It's like a switch was flipped, and he falls back into his bloodthirsty and feral ways. It scares your sisters, but they know he's doing it for you.

Siren!Leon, who follows your scent and your soft pleads for mercy as the pirates decide whether to gut you or keep you for themselves. He has never swam this fast in his life. He had a strong tail, no doubt, but he pushed himself to his limit only to get to you.

Siren!Leon who feels so deeply and can feel the storm brewing inside of him. He can't help but feel somewhat reassured when dark, thick clouds rise in the sky and heavy winds, rain, and thundering streaks of lightning descend from the sky. He thanks Mother Moon with all his being for helping him rescue his treasure.

Siren!Leon, who sneaks close to the ship undetected, due to the heavy rain and loud thunder. He is out for blood, and one thing is clear; that ship will sink today, and he will make them pay.

Siren!Leon who punches holes into the body of the ship with his strong tail, making the ship sink slowly into the dark embrace of the ocean.

Siren!Leon, who when he finally gets to the bastard pirates, tears them to shreds without a thought. Thick crimson spills into the rowdy waters, and you can almost see the red reflecting in his eyes.

It's a mess of limbs and guts, the blood clinging to his pale skin like a curse. He doesn't want to admit how refreshing this felt- he was still a siren after all.

Siren!Leon who snaps out of his craze and immediately starts searching for you, calling out your name with desperation and fear. The lightning gets worse as he looks around frantically.

Siren!Leon, who finally spots you clinging to a piece of wood with bloody hands and teary eyes. He rushes over to you, and the relieved cries that rip from your throat make his heart hurt.

Siren!Leon, who scowls at the deep gash on your tail, no doubt courtesy of those pirates. He embraces you so softly, kissing your temple and whispering sweet reassurances to you.

You sniffled and looked up at him, the rain slowly washing away the blood that tarnished his skin. You spotted tears of his own welling up in his blue eyes, pained by the image of your wounded self. He never stopped stroking your hair and wiping away the rain that mixes with your tears as it falls on your face.

"They... they only hurt me because I didn't want to give them... this.." You spoke quietly, opening your bloody hand, revealing the pearl he had gifted you now smeared with blood. Leon felt his heartbeat all the way in his head. The gusting winds, loud thunder and the electrifying strikes of lightning died down and the surface of the water stilled into a soft ripple as he stared at you, not knowing what to do, or to feel.

Only the soft patter of rain on the ocean filled the silence that lingered between you two. Leon swallowed thickly and cupped your face, finding his words.

"My treasure, My pearl... why?"

You'd never heard him this hurt, defeated before.

"Because you gave it to me."

With your simple answer, he pulled you tight against his chest with his lips pressed to your forehead, hoping the rain would cover the tears that ran down his face, soaking into your hair.

Siren!Leon, whose blood freezes in his veins when you catch a glimpse of the massacre he had left and absolute horror washes over your face. He can feel his heart shatter with the way you look at him, with so much fear and- ...gratitude?

Siren!Leon, who gets the words knocked out of his head once again, when you softly touch his cheek and tell him that you're not afraid of him. You're still shaken up, in agony, and dismembered bodies aren't part of your usual routine.

But you tell him that you could never be scared of him. You know he would never hurt you, he loves you, and he only did what he needed to in order to rescue you. You're fully aware of what he is- a Siren, not a monster. He proved that to you many times with his gentle and kind nature. He feels pathetic when he breaks down as you whisper that you love him and press kisses to his hair. You're hurt, and he's crying, utterly overwhelmed by you and your love.

Siren!Leon, who will take care of you and the wound on your tail until it's fully healed. He gently drapes seaweed wraps over the gash and always makes sure you're not in any pain. He will make you hang onto him by his neck when he swims so you can still get around but not put any strain on your tail.

Siren!Leon, who plucks a scale from his tail and gifts it to you as full proof of his love and devotion for you. It hangs around your neck, right next to the pearl he had given you, and he can't help but smile when he sees how his shimmery blue scale looks against your skin.

Siren!Leon, who wears one of your scales on a cloth, tied around his arm, proudly showing it off whenever he can. Because he's as much yours as you are his. <3

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I loved writing this so much!! Lmk your thoughts on Siren!Leon <3

More Leon works are here 🩷

《Tag list》: @dmitriene @k-fallingstar @vampkennedy

Comment to be added!

[moonyor]

SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 107 SXF MANGA ₊⊹

RIGHT i know i’m delusional but hear me out 😭😭

so, chapter 107 ends off with us finding out that lunaluna selena is actually melinda,

which i kinda thought it would be her so woohoo

ALSO on an unrelated note, a lot of people are saying stuff which makes melinda look really sus and although it doesn’t make much sense, i feel like she probably had to do some last minute work or something— she did organise the whole event (with her group), but something probably didn’t work out so maybe she had to fill in for someone??? i’m not sure, she did mention her being sleep deprived too, so maybe it was her being tired from organising the event and having to fill in? idk though 💯

okay back to what i was saying!!! so, skipping a few things, what if melinda does end up reading both yor and anyas palms? i imagine her saying something along the lines of “oh i’ll read your palms since that’s what you came here for!” and then explaining how her readings arent very accurate, but saying that she’d try to make it as accurate as possible since, well, it’s yor and anya

anya would DEFINITELY say “ME FIRST ME FIRST” and both melinda and yor would just go along with it 😭 (we love anya guys)

OKAY now hear me out, what if, for anya, melinda describes damian as her partner or whatever??? and loid as yors??? i’ll explain further 🗣️🗣️

both our girls go to see how compatible they are with their “soulmate” right?? and possibly to see who their significant other is too, so melinda tries to be accurate and gives descriptions of damian for anya and loid for yor ⁉️⁉️

i imagine the description for damian to be hilarious, saying how he can be pretty honest wellllll….. foul-mouthed? you get my drift. anya would be like “yikes why the hell is my man like that i don’t want that pls 😭💔” and then melinda saying how he’s truly soft deep down and how he’s really just a sweetheart #tsunderedamian

ALSO: anya could possibly read melinda’s mind and find out she’s referring to damian, but i don’t see this happening as in my eyes, melinda herself would not be aware of who the person she’s describing is, but she would know how they may look and certain personality traits of theirs!!!! i’m not sure though 😅

as for loid and yor, yor would be COMPLETELY oblivious while melinda is stating the obvious, kinda like the panel of yuri describing loid, it was in chapter 12 i believe?? anyway, yuri says something like “sure, maybe he’s tall, good looking, blonde” etc etc, i see melinda basically stating how he looks and how he overworks himself 😭😭😭 loid is an absolute workaholic but yor is too dumb (i���m sorry yor not in a bad way i love you) to realize that melinda is actually basically just stating everything about loid 😿😿

yor, loid and anya then meet up again after they leave the place and loid asks what happened blah blah blah, yor THEN literally says everything melinda told her and how that’s her partner and how they’re perfect for each other

they’re so cute together i’m actually crazy about them

ANYWAYS loid either is just as clueless as yor, and somewhat jealous that there’s someone else out there that’s PERFECT for yor (although he doesn’t recognise his jealousy and quickly dismisses it) OR he’s like “hey.. that kinda sounds like me??”

obviously he doesn’t say this out loud and he just thinks this in his head, but he does go on to explain how he’s happy there’s someone out there like that for yor (and he thinks that someone is him)!!!! i feel like his ego would get slightly boosted by the fact that yors other half is him, and obviously, he doesn’t say this directly and recognise it properly but he still does act somewhat giddy 😭😭😭🩷🩷🩷

THATS IT FROM ME!!! this is my first post so i don’t think it’ll reach many people— i’m not really sure on how tumblr works lmao but i just needed to get my delusional thoughts out!!!!!

this would be cute but i’m expecting something a lot bigger than this and i don’t think there’s gonna be much romance at all, in fact i feel as if there’s gonna be a lot of action in the next few chapters and oh boy am i excited!!!!! ���🔥🔥

if this did happen it probably wouldn’t be like how i’ve explained it, and it’d probably be like the calm before the storm 💔😭

oh well i guess we’ll find out in a month

[thoughtsforsoob]

couple halloween costumes w/ txt

a/n: i know summer is comming to an end to please start accepting these fall crumbs i am going to be pushing out :) i am a fall/winter girlie so please bare with me. please enjoy. i will be getting to my inbox as soon as i can.

yeonjun: nanami + tomoe

he actually came up with this costume and you were really suprised

you asked him why and his answer was "i just wanted to be to fox guy. he's kinda..." he bites his lip and you playfully smack his arm

he let's you help him put together his outfit and he put's together yours

since you were struggling to find an outfit online, you make him one from scratch and he swears he's fallen in love all over again

soobin: makima + denji

anime nerd #1

i know some might find this pairing a little stange but it's all for the jokes

soobin is just so whipped for you so this costume fits the both of you so well (if this has changed from the first season, please don't tell me :(

he also just wants to see you dress up all formal with a tie (boobs boobs boobs)

beomgyu: beast boy + raven

idk about you guys but i just discovered that beomgyu gives beast boy energy

he's just silly and his gf for sure has to be there to put him in line

he actually brought up the idea because he'd been watching teen titans

he also get's an excuse to ask you to dress in her original costume (legs he loves your legs omg)

taehyun: mario + princess peach

it's a super basic constume but he loves it a lot

he actually let's you pick out your halloween constumes every year because he likes to see you light up when you present all your ideas to him

he expected you to wear a full on dress but when you come out in someone a little smaller and less over the top, his face and ears turn red

hesitates to take you out because he thinks you look so pretty

huening kai: howl + sophie

it's such a cute and wholesome costume

he also wanted an excuse to try on long hair

he definately suprises you by bleaching his hair for the costume to be accurate

he also makes sure the both of you take a ton of photos together

"we'll show our kids some day how cool their parents are"

[haikyu-mp4]

hi omg i love your works sm !! each one is so cute and i love your dialogue for the characters 🫶 i've read most of them but i'll be going back to reread and reblog them bcos u deserve the love 🤍

i wanted 2 ask if ur requests were open ? it's okay if they aren't ofc !! but i had this idea earlier about dentist / orthodontist iwaizumi or oikawa ! and i've been looking thru the hq writers that i've reblogged from n u came up ! the idea is pretty broad but i was thinking more of a build up from patient-dentist (?) to lovers, smth like that ! idk if ure up for it then do ur magic but otherwise i hope u have a great day and i'm looking forward to reading more from u 💞💞💞

Unusual affection

thank you so much for your love!! I never wrote much AU before so this was such a fun idea and I hope I did it justice<3

word count; 1353 – gn!reader, dentist Oikawa AU, patient-dentist to lovers, suggestive

You're not so fond of going to the dentist. Luckily, your teeth didn’t give you many problems growing up, but your parents were urging you to get a check-up appointment after you moved away to a new city. Better to establish a dentist before the issues come up, they would say.

So you did, you made an appointment with dentist Oikawa Tooru and made your way to his office a few weeks later. His waiting list wasn’t exactly short. Not that you had to wonder why for long because…

that is one gorgeous man!

“You need to floss more regularly,” he added as if it just came naturally for him, which it probably did. You lay on the seat as he looked over all the basic stuff, rinsing and picking at your teeth. Unfortunately, you couldn’t see yourself attracting him very much with your mouth wide open and lips scrubbed dry already, so you just accepted your fate.

“I’m not really a dancer but I’ll try,” Oikawa stopped what he was doing and the swivel chair he sat on slowly turned towards you. That’s like something Makki would say, he thought. And that’s not a compliment.

“How old are you, 10?” he asked but quickly cleared his throat when the secretary seemed to eye him from her desk. She always said he shouldn’t have an attitude with customers.

“Some would say I’m a 10 out of 10!” you responded, joyfully watching as his patience wore thin. Oh, how fun to find cracks in that perfect exterior.

He sighed, shook his head, and turned back to the monitor. You started looking at the ceiling, counting the dots and lines in the ugly pattern until you lost count and started over. Is that a headache creeping up on you?

Finally, Oikawa rolled back over. You blinked a couple of times to shake off the view of the ceiling and actually focus on him. “Open.” Wouldn’t mind hearing him command you like that in another setting, you thought, suddenly avoiding eye contact again but still doing as he said. Dentists are not supposed to be this attractive. “Your wisdom teeth on this side, do they hurt?” he asked, pointing to the cheek he was referring to.

You thought about it, humming in thought. “Yes, especially after eating. Lots of food gets stuck in there too.”

“We can set up another appointment to get them removed,” he informed you. “It should be mostly covered by insurance if I say it’s necessary.”

You nodded, licking your lips as they felt so dry from his gloved hands running over them. “Will…” he was about to stand up but stopped for a moment to listen to you. “…you be doing that?”

A small humorous sound left his lips, and it sounded so melodic you were in a trance. “That could be arranged.”

Two weeks later, you’re back at the reception of your dentist's office, asking for Oikawa. You agreed to do the procedure with a local sedative, as you didn’t have that many close friends in this city yet that could pick you up, so two assistants were currently making sure you wouldn’t feel anything around your mouth for the next hours. Unfortunately, this called for you to stay quiet, and you were honestly just excited to see Dr. Hottie again.

Your prayers were answered, and after they left you to soak in the numb feeling in your mouth for about ten minutes, Oikawa walked through the door. “Hey there, little dancer.” he greeted you.

“Hi!” you cooed, but it sounded odd when you couldn’t feel your lips. You frowned, trying to look down at your lips for a moment before giving up. Oikawa clicked his tongue from where he watched you, shaking his head before putting gloves on. Everything he did seemed so elegant, but you had a sense there was a dorky side to him.

“It might hurt a bit, but just tap me if you need me to adjust, okay?” he informed you, looking into your eyes for an answer.

You nodded, sucking in a quick breath. His eyes were pretty. Swirly, like chocolate ice cream. “Yes, I got it.” You bit your top lip, sheepishly continuing. “My safeword is toothbrush.”

Oikawa seemed to chuckle under his breath, he hesitated to humour you but still gave in. “Good to know. I was half expecting a stupid joke about tap dancing.” he hummed before picking up the first tool he needed and swiftly getting to it. It wasn’t very fortunate, to have him stare at your face as your cheeks flushed red, but it was worth witnessing the self-satisfied smirk on his face.

The procedure didn’t take too long. He struggled with the lower tooth, so an assistant came in to help him and the two conversed like you weren’t even there. When it was finally done, Oikawa pressed a button so you were adjusted into a seated position. You let your lips run frantically over your chapped lips, reaching for the small cup of water he provided you. And had you not been busy with the aftermath of the procedure, you would have noticed the way he watched you for a moment too long before getting up and throwing away his gloves.

Oikawa knew it was inappropriate. His breath shouldn’t have stuttered when he saw you in the waiting room for the check-up, he shouldn’t have sent you a small wave before calling your name to let you know he was ready for you, and he shouldn’t have put his hand on your back while leading you to his station. He just found you entertaining, that’s what he told himself, but he definitely looked off his game when you finally sat down for him to check the stitches from the procedure.

“Everything alright there, doc?” you asked, eyebrows furrowed. Oikawa waved his hand as if it was nothing, laughing under his breath.

“No worries, I was just-” he pursed his lips before pointing at you with the little tool in his hand. “Do you like pasta?”

Your jaw loosened in disbelief. “Pasta? I guess I do, is that bad for my teeth or something?” you asked a bit awkwardly.

“There’s this new Italian restaurant down the street. You should go there,” he said. “With me, I mean.”

Oikawa’s penthouse apartment was pretty nice, so you two basically spent most of your time there after a couple of dates led to stumbling through your front door with your lips locked together. He had complained about the small bed and creaking floor of your apartment, which led him to take you home to his place the morning after.

Now you were sitting on the marble countertop in the bathroom with Oikawa standing between your legs, and it was similar to something you had dreamed up before when imagining life with a boyfriend. The difference was, you weren’t kissing or anything like that. No, your mouth was wide open as your handsome boyfriend checked your teeth before bed after you brushed them. “This is a bit unusual, don’t you think?” you managed to say, making him pout as you accidentally left a small bite on his pointer finger.

“You’re a bit unusual, but here we are,” he mumbled, but still hummed in appreciation at what he observed. “I knew the electric toothbrush would help.”

Finally, he leaned an arm on each side of you on the counter so you could have a kiss, which you’d say was a much better reward for being good at the dentist than the ones you would get when you were younger. “You truly are a genius, Tooru.” you cooed sarcastically. He kissed you again and hummed, savouring the aftertaste of your toothpaste. The expensive kind.

“Maybe I’m such a good dentist that my kisses clean your teeth,” he said, and it shouldn’t work. It shouldn’t be charming. It was cheesy, made no sense and created some disturbing mental images. But you savoured it nonetheless, accepting every kiss he gave you and returning it with the same sweetness.

Luckily, this dental nerd is all yours.

masterlist

[shy-sapphic-ace]

List of queer books I read, loved & recommend!

(There isn't any particular order, I wrote these as I remembered them)

Master Of One - Jaida Jones & Dani Bennett (mlm, fantasy, very cool worldbuilding and magic system, funny, cool characters)

Legends & Lattes - Travis Baldree (wlw, fantasy, very soft & chill vibes)

The Priory of the Orange Tree - Samantha Shannon (wlw, high fantasy, cool worldbuilding, kinda reminds me of LOTR but with more dragons and feminism and lesbians)

Even Though I Knew The End - C.L. Polk (wlw, supernatural noir, cool 1930s detective story with angels & demons, I loved this one!)

The Love Interest - Cale Dietrich (mlm, science fiction, very cool concept)

The Darkest Part Of The Forest - Holly Black (side mlm, fantasy, cool fae lore)

The Weight Of The Stars - K. Ancrum (wlw, not quite science fiction but space stuff is involved, lovely and complex characters)

Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe - Benjamin Alire Sáenz (mlm, fiction, very nice in general, there is also a sequel)

The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue - Mackenzi Lee (mlm, historical and vaguely fantasy, nice story but I preferred the sequel honestly)

The Lady's Guide to Petticoats and Piracy - Mackenzi Lee (wlw, the sequel to the one before, more fantasy elements than the first, asexual main character!!)

Gallant - V.E. Schwab (no romance, but in the background one of the characters(?) uses they/them pronouns, very cool dark fantasy vibe)

Stranger Than Fanfiction - Chris Colfer (gay main character, trans main character, coming-of-age, nice book)

Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda (yes it's the Love, Simon book, mlm, fiction, pretty nice)

They Both Die At The End - Adam Silvera (mlm, sci-fi ish but mostly fiction, cool ideas, but the ending is sad! Very amazing book though, I haven't read the prequel yet)

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo - Taylor Jenkins Reid (wlw, bi main character, historical fiction, cool story, just a neat book in general)

This Is How You Lose The Time War - Amal El-Mohtar & Max Gladstone (wlw, sci-fi, very cool time travel stuff!! and very beautiful, it felt like reading poetry most of the time)

One Last Stop - Casey McQuinston (wlw, background trans & pan & queer characters, sci-fi or fantasy idk, but time travel, I loooved this book, great)

The House In The Cerulean Sea - TJ Klune (mlm, fantasy, THIS BOOK oh my gosh you should read it!!, just cute and lovely and good)

Under The Whispering Door - TJ Klune (mlm, fantasy, this book is also sooo amazing, great character development and awesome relationships and stuff, it's been a while since I read it but it was so good)

In the Lives of Puppets - TJ Klune (mlm, ace main character!!, sci-fi, now THIS is found family, oughh feelings. argh, tj klune you’ve done it again, a human and his family of funky robots… I love them)

And They Lived... - Steven Salvatore (nblm, fiction, about gender identity and learning to love yourself, read it a while ago but it was very nice)

I Wish You All The Best - Mason Deaver (nblm, fiction, about finding your identity and people who care about you, very cute and sweet)

The Song Of Achilles - Madeleine Miller (mlm, historical, very good in general)

Carry On - Rainbow Rowell (mlm, background wlw in the third book, fantasy, it's a trilogy, basically Harry Potter if it was gay and also better)

Silver In The Wood - Emily Tesh (mlm, fantasy, very pretty, lots of fae stuff and lovely descriptions, it has a really good sequel too)

Pretty much anything by Alice Oseman (all cute and lovely and great, though I've only read Radio Silence so far I hear only good things, Solitaire is on my to-read list)

I Kissed Shara Wheeler - Casey McQuinston (wlw, fiction, it's been a while but I liked this book)

The Falling In Love Montage - Ciara Smyth (wlw, fiction, this book was so cute and funny and deeply emotional it made me Feel way too many things, I'd definitely recommend it)

What Big Teeth - Rose Szabo (a bit of queerness all around, fantasy, werewolves and monsters, this one was pretty cool!, lots of original ideas for the world/character building)

His Quiet Agent - Ada Maria Soto (mlm, asexual, fiction, about like spies but this book was so gentle and sweet I wanted to cry in the best way possible)

Some By Virtue Fall - Alexandra Rowland (wlw, historical fiction(?), theatre drama!! rival romance!! duels!!, a very good read in general)

Don’t Want You Like a Best Friend - Emma R. Alban (wlw, historical fiction, I’m not usually one for regency romances, but I really liked this!!, very cute and lots of drama, and there’s a sequel coming out soon!)

[httpiastri]

NSFW alphabet – pa17

author's note: hello hello, finally finished this <333 (after idk how many months lmao) happy to finally post it! hope u enjoy !!! and please let me know if you have any opinions or thoughts, feel very free to fill in with what you think abt these prompts (or any other paul prompts 🤭) hehe

nsfw content below !! minors dni !!!

a – aftercare (what he is like after sex)

i see paul as someone who doesn't like to make a mess, so the clean-up process is important to him. he'll either want to clean you both up with a warm, wet towel, or take a good old shower. he'll find it super cute if you don't have the energy to shower because he'll love holding you up, having you lean against his chest as the water pours on you two.

but in general, i think he'll be very soft after sex. he makes sure to tell you how good you did, praising you and letting you know how much he adores you. it's a lot of smiles and giggles, a very lighthearted vibe. and he craves skin-on-skin contact, holding you close and brushing his fingers along your skin.

b – body part (his favorite body part of his and also his partner's body)

his favorite body part of his own is his hands – just because he knows how much you love them. he loves how he can use them to give you so much pleasure, and how much you tremble from just his touch.

his favorite body parts of yours are anything he can cover with his hands. he loves seeing how big his hands are compared to your body, so holding you in his hands makes him crazy. he likes your boobs, butt and thighs specifically. (boob man!paul headcanons here)

c – cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

like i mentioned before, he dislikes making a mess. so cum will go either inside of you, in your mouth, or possibly on your chest, but then he's gotta be ready to clean it all up quickly (or lick it up). he isn't a fan of the like stickyness of it, especially in combination with your sweat, so he'll want to clean you both up after your session.

d – dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of his)

i wouldn't say that i think paul is a switch, but he definitely enjoys being bossed around by you every once in a while. he loves it when you think you're in charge (when in reality, he's just toying with you, sorry), he thinks it makes you look so cute.

e – experience (how experienced is he? does he know what he's doing?)

hmmm honestly he's young so i wouldn't say he's got a ton of actual experience. though, i still think he knows what he's doing; he's a fast learner, good at adapting, and he listens well to your needs and wants. he's really good at picking up on your little signs and tells of how you like a specific thing, which i think makes him seem more experienced than he actually is. i also think he's learned a lot from watching videos, so don't be surprised when he pulls out some random trick that has you falling over the edge immediately and he just says "i saw it online"….

f – favorite position (this goes without saying)

mmmm paul will never be a more content man than he is when his girlfriend is riding him. is this a biased opinion? possibly, but i really see him enjoying it because 1. boobs on full display, so easy for his hands to cup. 2. he really enjoys not having to do as much work, especially after a long weekend etc. 3. again, he likes you thinking you're in charge when in reality, he's definitely going to be thrusting up into you.

though i also think he loves something where he can be more in control, setting the pace and just making sure you feel good. paul is a simple man, and nothing gets him going like a good old missionary where he can pin his girl's hands over her head and watch her gaze flutter as he thrusts into her.

g – goofy (is he more serious in the moment? is he humorous? etc.)

paul is a goofy guy but also very serious at times? which makes me think that he would be more serious during the deed. he'd of course be able to smile or laugh a little if something funny happened, but mostly he just wants to enjoy the intimacy and get as much out of the moment as possible.

h – hair (how well groomed is he? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

when i said i think he doesn't like things to be messy, his hair falls under that category, too. he wouldn't be completely clean-shaven, but he likes things to be neat and tidy.

i – intimacy (how is he during the moment? the romantic aspect)

i personally feel like he can be quite romantic? not over the top but a bit. i think half the time, it's just a good old fuck, but the other time he sees it more as lovemaking and he gets really soft about it. it depends a lot on his mood and the day, but if he's in the right state of mind, he loves having a long go where you're both just fully relaxed and he loves to make sure every cell of your body feels good.

j – jack off (masturbation headcanon)

oh he enjoys jacking off as much as the next guy. he's a busy guy and doesn't have time to be with you as much as he wants to (and maybe if you even live in different countries, it's extra hard). and therefor, his own hand is just the second best thing. esp during a bad race weekend when he just needs to get some of that pent up frustration out. you'll always be there with him though, no matter if it's in the form of a picture, a voice recording, a clip, etc.. and when you've spent a lot of time apart, he loves to have you on the phone with him….

k – kink (one or more of his kinks)

size. seeing you in his oversized clothes would make him go crazy. (size kink headcanons here)

l – location (favorite places to do the do)

anywhere inside the house. in his bed, on the couch, having you sit on the kitchen counter, in the shower, you name it.

i think he would be up for some teasing in public; his hands on your thighs inching up under your dress when you're sitting down for dinner, possibly even letting a finger drag across the soaked fabric of your panties. but i don't think he would want to go any further in public, because he would much rather have a real one at home where he can enjoy the moment fully and not risk anyone else seeing. you're his and only his, after all – he doesn't want anyone else to see you like that.

POSSIBLY in his driver's room if he needs to get off before/after a session. oh, and in hotel rooms during the season, but more about that later… AND OKAY LAST ONE: in his car. yes yes yes.

m – motivation (what turns him on, gets him going)

honestly, whenever you take the first step, it gets him going instantly. if you insinuate that you want to have sex with him, or that you want to try something new, he'll be jumping into bed instantly. he also can't keep his hands to himself whenever you dress up in certain outfits, especially short dresses (no matter if it's a sleek fancy one or a cute summery dress)…

n – no (something he wouldn't do, turn-offs)

he refuses to share you. he's possessive like that; you're his and only his. no threesomes or anything like that, just the thought of you with another man makes him icky. and it's not even like a funny thing, like "oh he gets jealous so easily, haha!". even teasing him by trying to make him jealous is a no-go zone, he doesn't find it amusing at all. he just gets mad and it's a huge turn-off for him. flirt with any of his friends and he will just leave the room.

o – oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

that's all i have to say abt this.

p – pace (is he fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

like i said before, i think it depends on his mood!! he can be both, depending on how a race weekend has gone or just his general vibe for the day. mostly probably somewhere inbetween though.

q – quickie (his opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

they're definitely a part of the equation, esp during race weekends. a must to get out some of that pent up energy he so often has. makes him relax more (and he says it improves his performance, too. he got like one podium once when you had a quickie before a race and now he insists on them every time he has an important race).

r – risk (is he game to experiment? does he take risks? etc.)

in the bedroom, possibly. i think he would be up to trying new things if you really want to, but personally, he could just as well do what you always do. nothing dangerous or something that could ever hurt you even the slightest, so like even if you're trying bondage it has to be with the softest of silk straps.

outside of the bedroom, nuh uh. especially not out in public. like i said, he doesn't enjoy the risk of you accidentally being seen.

s – stamina (how many rounds can he go for? how long does he last?)

he's a strong guy with good stamina, not sure how well it translates to the bedroom though. surely he can go for a few rounds but i think he's okay with just going all-in into one round instead. it doesn't really matter that much to him.

t – toys (does he own toys? does he use them? on a partner or himself?)

not a big fan of using them but he likes to watch you use them on yourself :)

u – unfair (how much he likes to tease)

oh, he enjoys teasing you quite a lot. especially with his hands since he knows they make you so weak; showing them off, flexing them, placing them on your thighs, etc. he loves to rile you up, pretending like he isn't sure whether he will give you what you want or not, making you whine and beg for it.

he also loves it when you tease him back. it's hard for him to pretend like your actions make him feel what you want, because he's always looking up at you with a big smile and showing off how much he enjoys it. this connects to what i wrote earlier about him liking when you're in control; you're just too adorable, he can't hold back his grin.

v – volume (how loud he is, what sounds he makes, etc.)

mmmm not too loud but not quiet, i feel? groans and moans a lot but also loves just talking and praising you. i also see him being… maybe just a little whiny……. when he's being teased etc. because as we've discussed on this blog before, i think he has a little submissive streak and just. there are some sounds he can't control.

w – wild card (a random headcanon)

there's just something about doing it in hotel rooms when he's racing that really gets him going. after a while, it's like he's one of pavlov's dogs because just being in a hotel room gets him going. celebratory, fluffy sex after a good race, or rough sex after a bad weekend – it doesn't matter. it's just bound to happen.

x – x-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

gonna let someone else fill in on this because i just can't 😭

y – yearning (how high is his sex drive?)

high, but again not over the top. he doesn't need to get going 24/7 but if he has a gf as hot as you, then it's gonna get high. idk he just sees you and boom, instant boner. doesn't need to act on it every time, but he could if you wanted to.

z – zzz (how quickly he falls asleep afterward)

quickly!! a sleepy boy, he needs his beauty rest. quick aftercare, and he'll make sure you're comfortable and good and resting properly on his chest before he lets himself close his eyes. but then it won't take long before he's dozing off…. he puts so much energy into the act that he's completely worn out after it, poor boy.

[tizeline]

I love your drawing style! I find it super interesting and cute. Just one question, you shouldn't answer if you don't want to! You already answered that the events of the movie would focus on Donnie and Mikey, what would happen to Leo and Raph? Basically they would switch places? Like, Donnie and Mikey switch places with Leo and Raph? Would Leo still "sacrifice" himself?

THANK YOU!!!

But to put it simply, yeah, Donnie and Mikey basically switch places with Raph and Leo. So we get the latter two trying to constantly play mediators with Donnie's and Mikey's constant arguing lol. In the movie, Leo's character arc is him embracing his leadership role, but I'm planning on Leo getting through his whole leadership-arc earlier in the AU (probably by the end of season 2) Because of that, Leo and Raph have probably established a co-leader dynamic between the two of them (because I love co-leaders Raph and Leo so yes that's gonna be a thing). Point is, Leo and Raph aren't really gonna be arguing a whole lot during the movie. MAYBE the co-leader dynamic is still pretty new to them, so they'll have to figure out exactly how that's gonna work for them, but I'll figure out those details later.

I have NOT figured out how the whole Prison Dimension situation is gonna go down. Like, AT ALL. Considering Donnie took Raph's place as Krang Prisoner in the AU, by that logic Mikey should take Leo's place as Krang Punching Bag in the PD..... except Mikey's kinda needed to open the portal to get the Designated Krang Punching Bag OUT of the PD, which is gonna be hard if HE is said Punching Bag. Some people I talked to on Discord figured Leo might get to open up the portal considering he's also a portal-guy. Alternetively, Mikey might manage to open the portal by unlocking his Hamato Ninpo abilities. I know all the turtles unlock their Ninpo in the season 2 finale in canon, but considering Mikey's a BIT hostile towards the Hamatos in the AU, it might take him longer. Since the AU's version of events focuses Mikey and Donnie overcoming their differences and growing closer, it would fit for Mikey to properly connect to the Hamato clan in this moment. Maybe Mikey is able to magically connect to his brothers across dimensions through their ninpo and all four are able to open up a portal together or something, idk, magic is weird.

Also, I have no idea if Draxum is gonna be around for the invasion or he's doing something elsewhere like in the movie. Either way, he's gonna be dealing with like a million heart attacks after all this lol.

[awkwardgamergirl]

Best games for mental health&relax?

As someone who deals with anxiety and depression when I want to relax or am just feeling low and drained I’ll usually choose what others would consider “cozy games” because I don’t want any stress from shooters, strategy games, or anything that has a lot of stakes. I’ll do switch games for now since it’s my main console but I do have a 3ds, psvita, and my computer so I’ll make a list of those games later 💕

So my favorite games to relax to are:

~ stardew valley~ (you already knew this was coming) it’s just a really cute game with lots of options on how you can spend your time. You can farm, fish, forage, travel the mines, talk to the towns people, interact with love interests. There is just a lot to do in it and it has a really cozy small town cottagecore vibe that a lot of people find relaxing. Amazing replay value. I have like four different lives just so I can choose different farms, partners, things like that.

~ animal crossing~ (second most obvious answer) we all know animal crossing is a chill low stakes game that has a lot of similar elements I listed for stardew valley. You get to interact with cute little animals, decorate your house and character, forage, fish, find fossils, shop. It’s just a relaxing and positive game and is very popular for a reason. Idk about replay value because I really couldn’t imagine deleting my island tbh.

~ fashion dreamer~ if you like cute dress up type games this one is a decent lil game. It’s got lots of different styles for whatever your lil fashion heart desires and you basically walk around dressing up characters and they rate your outfits. It’s from the creators of style savvy and while it’s super cute I would wait for it to go on sale because it’s a bit overpriced imo. Style savvy is definitely the way to go if you have a ds/3ds. Still cute though. Don’t know about replay value because I’m fairly new to the game and haven’t come close to finishing or restarting anything.

~ unpacking~ this one is pretty cute and definitely a game that helps with anxiety. It’s a relaxed little puzzle game that unlocks parts of the story as you go along organizing each room to your home. You can try to solve the puzzles or you can just organize the furniture to your liking. Either way you want to play it’s super cute and relaxing and has some decent replay value after you complete it.

~calico~ super cute game where you run a cat cafe in a magical town with unique characters, little missions, and lots of cats you can pet and play with. There is magic, desserts, and you can ride giant cats like horses. Super soothing game. Character customization and decorating your cafe. The only drawback is it can get a bit glitchy but for the cuteness and the price I have no complaints. The music is really cute too. Not sure about replay value because my cafe is so cute I wouldn’t want to start over.

~coffee talk~ you run a coffee shop in the future and talk to all the incoming guests and learn their stories as you give them their coffee. This one is super relaxing and how I like to spend my evenings before bed if I want that extra cozy time to destress and relax. Cute art as well with different species and how they interact. I haven’t restarted yet but I’m sure there will be replay value with just how cozy and in depth the story is.

~rune factory 4 remastered~ this was originally a 3ds game they remastered for the switch and it’s so amazing that they did. One of my favorite 3ds games that is an offshoot of the harvest moon series with very pretty art, farming, cooking and crafting, romance, monster fighting, and just really fantastic story telling. Very cozy and hard not to get sucked into. Such a gorgeous game imo. Fantastic replay value.

~good pizza, great pizza~ you run a lil pizza shop and upgrade it to get better ingredients and equipment. Super cute chill game to pass the time and hard not to spend hours mindlessly making pizzas. Haven’t replayed it because I haven’t completed it but I imaging replaying it would be fun because you’re just making pizza and unlocking different ingredients. Relaxing game with cute art.

~monster prom~ cute game where you have to convince one of the monsters to go to prom with you. Funny writing, pretty art, and the ability to romance any gender while choosing your pronouns. It’s funny, the game play is question based, and it’s like little rounds of 15 mins and either you get them to go to prom or you get rejected. Then you get to try again. Replay value is obviously strong because I keep playing it no matter how often I’m rejected 🥲 being real though this game is funny, unique, and worth the price. I just have to beat the first one so I can try the second.

~what comes after~ you play as a character on a train of ghosts and you process the grief of passing to the afterlife and try to learn and console the other ghosts on the train who are passing. Pretty game that is mostly story based and worth a try. I haven’t finished this game so I’m not to sure on the replay value.

~little mouse’s encyclopedia~ a cute little game where you play as a little mouse exploring the outside and the dirt and you spend your time finding other little animals and bugs and plants and you read about them and what they are. Cute little educational game I purchased because I loved the art that ended up being super cute in the long run.

Honorable mentions:

- speed dating for ghosts (cute funny little game where you go on dates with ghosts. Short, sweet, and to the point. Decently priced for how quick you get through the game)

- cattails (you play as a cat that travels through its little territory you that you share with your other cat group. You gather little things, complete missions, scrap with rival cat gangs, and just walk around as a cat. Cute but a bit slow for my tastes.)

-rune factory 5 (don’t get me wrong, I love the fourth one and I’m sure the more I play this one I’ll learn to love it to. The gameplay is just set up a bit different and is a bit more similar to the harvest moon style than the fourth rune factory. The art is gorgeous though I was just hoping for more rune factory and less harvest moon when it came to the actual playing)

Games I’ve wanted and heard amazing things about:

The only reason I haven’t purchased and played these games yet is because games aren’t cheap and I need to finish the ones I’ve already purchased. That being said I’ve been looking at a lot of these for a long time and they are definitely going to make this list. I’m sure some of them would be ranked very high in the favorite games category as soon as I actually start playing them. Here’s the list:

* Spiritfairer

*Bear and breakfast

*Creepy tale

*Cozy grove

*Witchy life story

*Potion permit

*Hoa

*Littlewood

*Potion craft

*Gris

*When the past was around

*strange horticulture

*Lemon cake

*Wytchwood

*How to say goodbye

*Dreamlight valley

*Storyteller

*Cult of the lamb

*Little misfortune

*Night in the woods

* Sally face

And that’s it 🎉 sorry for such a long list but I wanted to include a bit of everything so you had lots to choose from. These are the games I play when I need a comfy happy place to go when life gets to be a bit too much to handle. I enjoyed making this list to be honest so there will most likely be more lists in the future. Maybe I’ll make a list of favorite otome games, anime/manga, kpop groups. Things like that. Anyway, hope you enjoy reading the list as I enjoyed making it 💖

[crushedsweets]

What do the creeps do on a “normal” day?

work and hang out, mostly!

since work is like half of someones life, ill mostly use this to describe their jobs and hobbies/stuff they do in their freetime. ill organize it by groups !

PROXIES (kate, toby, tim, brian)

Kate and Toby work on a farm cuz they need to get paid under the table for everything. Tim is a trucker, Brian is in carpentry

Toby spends a lot of of his free time just messing around. normal day looks like waking up, immediately trying to check who wants to hang out with him, then trying to do something fun, whether it be working out or bothering his friends or fixing stuff up or learning a new skill

kate just kinda follows toby around or spends her time walking around, putting up pages, sleeping, watching DVDs toby buys. normal day looks like waking up, being sluggish for hours at a time, eating, going for a run, watching movies, and whatever toby forces her to do

tim and brian work a LOT so a normal day to them is work, check on toby/kate, go to their shared apartment, eat, watch a movie, sleep, repeat. almost monotonous, but they prefer the stable routine over the unpredictability their life used to be under slendy

INFECTED (clocky, jeff, nina, liu, jane)

first arc, clocky is a waitress/bartender. days looked like sleeping in the barn, going to work, coming to the proxy cabin till toby irritates her, going to the barn, making art, listening to music, whatever. she eventually gets a tattoo apprenticeship and rents her very own studio apartment! still dedicates her days to work, friends, art, and taking it easy

jeff's days r kinda sad. he spends a lot of time just lounging around, fast food, music, movies, wasting time. he goes to a lot of underground shows where he can wear masks or get away with ppl thinking his face is SFX, but he cant really hang out in public half the time. lives in the barn. a medical mask goes a long way for him!

nina hops between a ton of jobs at first (waitress, hot topic, spencers, was even a receptionist at a hotel, just random stuff in general) before she ends up going to cosmetology school and falls in love with it, now does nails/hair fulltime. her days look like calling her friends, going out everyday(brunch, nightlife, shopping, etc), decorating her apartment, lots of fashion stuff, etc etc.

liu works a pretty basic office job just to get by. it was the first job he could get after wasting all his spendings in a downwards spiral to find jeff in alabama, but its quiet, simple, and the people are nice to him. he mostly does that and very simple stuff...puzzles, gardening, reading, films. very grandpa of him

jane starts as a private investigator, so her days look like being swarmed with work, going undercover, hours of research and stress. no time for hobbies, just work and taking care of her wife mary. eventually, she decides its too much for her (after liu hires her to investigate nina) and mary encourages a new career path - SO she becomes a college professor for law/criminal justice/something along those lines! days look like volunteering, teaching, organizing, walks in the park with mary and sally, gardening, just a much softer, cozier life

ZALGOIDS (jack, lazari, ann, lulu, dina)

jack 'works' as a human remains disposer on the dark web, so his income is Plentiful and he doesnt have to spend a dime on food, since he just eats the corpses he's disposing of. his days look like listening to audiobooks/documentaries, cooking for people he loves, learning as much as he can, tending to the proxies(as 'rent' to stay in slendys forest), teaching lazari as much as he can, spending time with his friends, gardening

lazari lives with jack! he almost homeschools her, so she spends a lot of time learning, drawing, dressing up, watching cartoons, gardening. i think itd be cute if she befriended ben cuz theyre abt the same age, but theyre like...so different. maybe this is how she starts spending her free time idk LOL

ann and lulu are VERY zombie-like. they literally just sit in the hospital/lake are all day long, roaming and talking and dozing in and out of reality. when the proxies come to check on them, theyll chat, but its nothing else. it's not really 'boring' for them, cuz theyre so trapped in timeloops and stuff, so yk

dina is just tearing apart the forest and trying to survive. she cant leave it because the slender pages keep zalgoids trapped in the forest, but she refuses to work with the proxies - so she's constantly on the run, constantly killing and eating animals, constantly in fights when shes trying to take down the pages, etc. eventually she'll settle down, but thats for later

PARANORMAL (ben, sally)

ben is chronically online im sorry. genuinely spends every waking moment online, but like...literally inside the computer. he loves the internet, loves online cultures, loves all you can learn about it, loves drama and causing problems. his days look like the internet, video games, and hanging out with jeff (and maybe toby or jack)

sally lives with jane. her days are pretty simple, just wandering around janes house, the neighborhood, whatever. watching cartoons, coloring, talking to mary (janes stay at home wife), whatever.

[year2000electronics]

So how did Dipper and Mabel transform? You said that most people in the town change over a year, but the twins were almost immediately, so was there some intense body horror?

Like growing extra limbs or the leg joints snapping into disturbing shapes and lengths while their toes fuse together into hooves and their spines push out into a whole other back and continues into a tail? Or Mabel’s horn growing? Idk that sounds like it would hurt pretty bad.

Or did they just wake up one day with their lower half replaced by a unicorn and deer, respectively?

Btw I LOVE how you’ve been doing your world building, and all of your designs are SO CUTE/COOL!!

GREAT QUESTION! see, dipper and mabel's cursed transformations in particular need to happen at a stricter time-point than many of the others because of the role it plays in the story

it can't happen too late, because this is an au about "what if everyone was monsters", and if dipper and mabel were taking their time transforming all the way up to mid-season 1, it kinda defeats the point a little

the transformation needs to happen quicker than expected, because if it's too slow, stan or another adult can see the warning signs and realize that the twins are absolutely going to get cursed if they stay for too long. it needs to happen like [snaps fingers] that, or else it wouldn't be able to happen

SO. with all that in mind, my answer for how the twins end up transforming is this. the twins have exactly one event in our show timeline that they're NOT monsters for: tourist trapped. at the starting point of tourist trapped in the show, we also know for a fact that it's been at least a couple days just based on things like dipper's "until one fateful day" line in the show. so it's not like they get cursed the moment they step into gravity falls! but the curse happening only AFTER the twins find journal 3? i feel like that makes a sort of air of mystique that's like... did the curse take the twins so fast because they dove too far into studying the supernatural? is it because they're kids so it happens faster for them? whoooo knoooows... oooh... (it's left purposely ambiguous)

ANYWAYS. about a day or so after tourist trapped but before gobblewonker, stan has the kids working at the shack for another day of suitable-for-kids labour. however, the entire day, the kids feel really sore and they keep complaining about it to stan. id also pin it as feeling really similar to "growing pains" that kids around that age get? that aching around the hips

he figures they're just being a bunch of city slickers not used to lugging their weight, and he DOES let them have the rest of the day off, but, like, doesnt think anything else about it. why would it be weird? curse takes at least a year. that's how it's always been. the kids go to bed and end up experiencing a lot of feverlike symptoms, crazy fever dreams, unexplained pain, but all that ever happens is that one or two of them wake up half-asleep and try to get some water (not noticing that their feet are clacking against every surface)

and then.

BUT YEAH thats how i imagine it basically. once i finally get around to making a Customary Google Doc about my take on monster falls i might revisit this answer but this is my headcanon for now!

[fabricated-misslieness]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: jake sully x male reader (+sully family)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: There were many struggles that came with fatherhood—you must find a solution for each one.

ᴀɴᴏɴ: jake and reader are like the dads of the sully children, basically the sully's having gay dads??

ʀᴇ𝐐: yes ~ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6565

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: mentions of death (lighthearted) never happens tho, swearing, much worrying about children, surrogate neytiri referring to your kids as hers too (idk just in case)

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: so. i've got a lot of things to say. that's why i'm putting a second a/n at the bottom. - two gays cannot have an avatar child if they can't have children therefore surrogate Neytiri <3 - my first attempt at writing a full sentence in Na'vi, y'all are probably not fluent in it but i hope it's correct. - regrettably, there's only one scene with Tuk and only one mention of Spider - less about the relationship between jake and reader, more about the children

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Neteyam was a blessing.

Him and Neytiri both.

When she agreed to be a surrogate for your children, you were both over the moon, over each of the three of Eywa'eveng.

Neytiri knew it best, the stress of having a child. Though it was all her, her body, her belly, her birthing, you and Jake stuck to her side and stressed with her. You could see her pain, in her eyes, and Jake said he felt it himself.

The musings did not help Neytiri through the pain.

Omatikaya welcoming ceremonies consisted of everyone in the village, close family, friends, acquaintances, everyone rounded up to welcome the newborn. But this one was special, for there was one mother and two fathers. Strange as it may have been, the three of you knew there'd be plenty more to come.

When Jake held him up towards the sky, calling the name, "Neteyam", you knew the name truly belonged to him, even if the newborn had yet developed characteristic traits.

The first year was not pretty. If it weren't for Mo'at and Neytiri–and thought it may be harsh, it is the truth–Neteyam would probably be dead.

Jake always knew there was a thing with babies. They didn't have a sense of danger. On Earth, some of the deadliest stuff they could find was a fork and an outlet. On Pandora, however, there were much worse things.

He was aware of this, both of you were, of the Hammerheads, Thanators, Viperwolves that each posed a dangerous threat to your child. Even herbivores, like Flathead Rams, could trample over your baby like he was nothing. He couldn't roam, either, for he didn't know the difference between a poisonous plant and a safe one, and the differences were scarce. Not to mention, they grew close to the ground. Even the carnivorous plants were huge enough to swallow him whole.

So you both watched him, most of the time.

When the hunt called, however, it was only one of you. You took turns.

Why? Because the mighty Toruk Makto, Olo'eyktan of the Omatikaya, once war chief of three tribes at once, was not exempt from taking care of the baby.

Besides, he kind of liked it. He liked looking at his boy, knowing that in all ways except biological, Neteyam was his.

He loved when the little baby wrapped his four little blue fingers around one of his five large ones. He was so tiny, so defenseless. He had to take care of him. Couldn't let him out of his sight.

He was also so, so cute.

Neteyam lets out a little yawn, stretching all his limbs except for the hand holding his father's finger.

"Aww," Jake coos. "dinner's in a bit. The game's not even here yet. You can sleep."

As time passes, and Neteyam drifts off in his father's warm, large arms that encompassed him, Jake gets lost in the sight and his thoughts. Neteyam was his child. He never thought he'd have one.

He doesn't register the sound of you propping your bow up on the wall, or your footsteps, or a portion of the fresh hunt being placed next to the fire.

In fact, he doesn't really notice you at all until you sit next to him.

You wrap your arms around him, one around his back, the other around his stomach below his arms and Neteyam, and settle your head into the crook of his neck.

Jake laughs lowly, your nose against his neck's skin slightly ticklish—he didn't think the Na'vi were ticklish, hadn't learned it until he was victim to your fingers. "Kxì, my love. Tired?"

"Ngenga pllertxe fura tawtute lì'fya... ‘Ìnglìsì. Tìftang si." (You're speaking that sky people language... English. Stop it.)

Ever since the first time, he's memorized the words, therefore knows their meaning. "You know I don't speak Na'vi well. Right? Or are you too tired to remember?"

"Perfectly conscious enough to remember." You laugh lazily, "Just love to tease you."

Jake presses the side of his head against the top of yours, the best affection he can offer with Neteyam in his arms. "Zola‘u nìprrte’. Happy?"

"Yes."

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Where Neteyam was yours, Lo'ak was Jake's.

But first, came the unexpected Kiri. A month after Neytiri affirmed that she would have your second child, Norm and Max called with a panic.

One morning, as bored eyes strayed from scientific screens and microscopes, Norm discovered a bump on Grace's avatar's body. There were many theories, but each was discredited. The tank was safe, you were all sure, even if you did not know anything of the amniotic fluid within it. It wasn't scratched, didn't show any signs of opening, it displayed nothing at all. So what could be the cause?

The answer went unanswered for another two months. Until, at the third month, Norm realized that the size lined up with that of a human pregnancy. It was already the size of a seven month old baby bump. Which meant... soon enough, the vacant avatar would be having a baby.

There was hardly a discussion of who would raise it. Jake knew that he was indebted to Grace, that even though he had yet another child on the way, whatever came of Grace's avatar was his to take care of.

Kiri was born first. Lo'ak was soon to be on his way. However, the season for the first communion with Eywa was approaching. Though having the three of them commune with the Great Mother at the same time would be wonderful, the first communion was not to be delayed.

While Jake helped Neteyam attach his queue to the Tree of Souls, you helped Kiri.

Her eyes, her smile, toothless even, her dilated pupils... She was elated. She was so happy, and you mirrored her smile too.

This wasn't your kid, wasn't Jake's either, but you would raise her as one of your own.

Lo'ak and Kiri... they both came out with five fingers and little eyebrows. It was a scary thing, to have children that looked different from everyone else. Jake knew that, with an Avatar body, it was possible. Seeing it himself, though...

Neteyam, being oldest, required a little less care. He slept by himself at his crib. The newborns slept with you whilst the two of you waited for Neytiri's hunt.

Lo'ak was cuddled up in his father's arms, Kiri in yours. Her fingers were wrapped around your smallest finger, what Jake would call his ring finger. "Five fingers.." You muttered to yourself. You'd counted them many times over.

Jake hears you. "And eyebrows."

"Just like you." You muse with a laugh. Jake laughs along too, but you notice the difference; his laugh lacks its usual humor.

"What is it?" You ask, concerned lace with his words like the weaving of a necklace.

"Nothing." He shakes his head. He couldn't worry you, especially because he wasn't even sure if these five fingers and eyebrows would make any difference.

"I can tell there's something." You remain stubborn, scooting even closer to him. It was one of the qualities he actually loved about you, as annoying as it could be. "You can't evade me, darling."

"Darling? You picked up the word?"

"Jake." You're deflecting.

"I know." He sighs, "I know. It's just... They're different, Kiri and Lo'ak, different from others their age. It's not something I want for them."

"You think it'll affect the way they are treated?"

"Yes."

"Darling." You repeat the pet name more stern now, calling for his attention. He lifts his gaze from his baby boy to meet your eyes. They're yellow, they're golden, just like his. "You were different. But now you are not. You're Olo'eyktan, one of the us; one of the people, one of the Omatikaya. These children are yours, and they are mine. They are part of the Omatikaya."

"But they–"

"Extra fingers, extra hair on their face. The eyebrows are expressive, lovely. The fingers are good, help with dexterity." You tilt your head forward, "They will be fine."

Just as the same as he yearns to hold you, he wishes he believed you. For now, however, he settles on your only point of contact being your lips, and his assured belief about these children being that you and he would love them to the ends of the Earth.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

The differences meant nothing to Jake, there would be no change in the way he treated them. Soon enough, he'd sort of forgotten, for the most part.

What couldn't be forgotten, though, were his Olo'eyktan duties.

The problem was, you were gone for a little while. The second problem was, Neytiri was taking care of Neteyam. Now that didn't quiet seem like a problem, but she was taking care of him before you left and before he realized he had important Olo'eyktan stuff to do. He couldn't just bother Neytiri to take care of his kids! The third problem was, they were his kids! He couldn't just leave them. They were hardly two months old.

So now, he was left with a dilemma. Baby carriers.

For humans, it was a little embarrassing to, as a father, be wearing one of them. But to the Na'vi, it was just another part of life, a necessity.

Jake was a Na'vi now. He had to get over human societal norms.

"Hanging in there, baby girl?" Jake asks Kiri–as if she can understand him–who unfortunately has to take the tight space on his back.

After getting the silent answer he was expecting, Jake begins his work. As expected, no Na'vi seem to pay him any mind. They greet him just the same as any other day, the only difference being the small coos directed at his children. He's just happy they love them.

As Jake checks his daughter is safe on his back for the umpteenth time, he hears something wrong.

Click.

He stares ahead, obviously disturbed. His eyebrow furrows as he finds the camera, with a diminishing flash, being held by the scientist he regrettably called a friend.

"Norm, don't you have shit to do?" The swear word doesn't faze him, for the babies were too young to even register the word.

The scientist adjusts his exopack over his shit-eating grin. "Research, Jake." He gives off a hint as his amusement with each word he speaks, "I’m capturing the Mighty Toruk Makto in his natural form. Which is adorable." He winks.

"Uh-huh." Jake replies; contrasting his friend, he remains unamused. "Kiss the dark side of my blue–" Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Mo'at. Shit, Mo'at. She knew English and he needed to talk to her.

"You are a lucky man, Norm." Jake turns on his heels, leaving Norm behind as he heads towards the Tsahìk.

When he does so, though, Kiri turns her head as much as she can to stare at the human scientist curiously. Norm takes the opportunity.

Click.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Lo'ak and Kiri were, relative to their brother, the same age. They also looked the most like each other, excluding their father. They both had the characteristic traits of an avatar, traits that set them apart from the rest of the clan. Because of this, you thought they'd be inseparable, best friends. Instead, they fought, and fought, and fought.

It was weird, even, that Kiri often sought out her older brother's company over her baby brother's.

These peculiarities' origins, however, were solved when you realized the common point of these arguments. Lo'ak. Lo'ak was a troublesome kid in that he loved freedom, and even more, loved to be possessive.

Within seven years, many things were taught. Jake, for one, learned much of the Na'vi language. In fact, it was practically English to him. Sometimes he forgot what language he began the sentence with, and he would end up starting with Na'vi and ending with English or mixing in a couple words in the middle.

As far as the kids were concerned, it was gibberish. At least, for a couple years. After they dominated the Na'vi language well enough, they began to learn English. Their main teacher was their father, not their sempu, so when things like this happened...

"I hate you times infinity, Lo'ak! Penis face!"

It was his fault.

After the kids' argument was swiftly dealt with (the toy had to be threatened to be cut in half, and then they stopped), Jake places the toy in Kiri's hands. "Kid, go find your brother." He sighs, "You can play with him."

"I don't wanna play with him." Lo'ak crosses his arms, stomping his foot. "He's a sucker."

"Hey, now, that's not a good thing to say about your brother." Jake presses a harsh finger against his son's shoulder. "What would Neteyam think?"

"It's true! And he needs to know it!"

"If your sempu was here, you'd be–"

"Sempu's here." You call. The kids didn't really realize you heard the beginning of what Jake was going to say. Instead, they run to hug you. Kiri drops the much beloved toy they so desperately wanted earlier, in favor of wrapping her arms around your waist.

You scoop each of them up, each held by one strong arm. Even so, knowing that the position is weak, they steady themselves by wrapping their small limbs as far around you as they can. "Now, what was it that you needed me for?"

"Nothing, sempu." Kiri shakes her head, pressing her head against your shoulder. "Just a little dispute."

"Yes. A dispute." Lo'ak agrees with the wide nod of his head, though he pronounces the word much worse than Kiri does. Seems he slacked off on their latest English lessons and somehow ignored the word "penis" that Kiri vividly recalls.

"Ooh, dispute? Where'd you learn that big word, huh?" You coo, rubbing your nose into her hair. She laughs at the feeling, it's almost ticklish.

"Dad." She replies simply.

"Yeah, well, they also managed to learn the word "penis" from me." While you gawk dramatically at your children, Jake sticks his tongue out at them just as childishly. Little suck ups. He mouths.

Lo'ak sticks his tongue back out at his own father, to which you slap him gently on the hip. "What situation requires that," You think of a suitably negative word , uglily scrunching up your nose so that the children can have something to laugh at. "despicable word?"

"Lo'ak," Kiri is quick to tell, "was trying to steal my toy!"

"No I wasn't!" Lo'ak huffs. If he were on the ground, he'd have stumped his feet. Instead, they kick the air.

"Yes you were!" She retorts.

"Which one, the one so sadly on the floor?"

At the mention of its position, they both turn their gazes towards it. Kiri dares to mutter a little "uh-oh" as her eyes find it. Whilst they are distracted by the dread building up in their bodies, you look to Jake. Go find Neteyam. I'll deal with these two.

Silently, he nods, and slips away while the children begin to make up excuses. As he walks down the river bank, he hears a shout from the house. "You're a big fat liar!"

If memory served right, Neteyam wanted to visit Neytiri. Out of all of their kids, he took to her the most.

A part of him, at the back of his mind, wonders how all his children will react once they learn who their mother is.

He doesn't indulge in the thought. Instead, he focuses on the task ahead. The path from his home to Neytiri's was one he memorized, and he made sure when he built his home that it wouldn't be a long distance.

He doesn't expect to find the two of them, Neteyam and Neytiri, outside of the house. Neither does he expect his son to be so vigorously training even after training hours.

"That's it. Remember your stance." Neytiri advises Neteyam, patting his shoulder. "You're doing great."

"Hey!" Jake greets the two. The sudden call surprises Neteyam, which makes his shot fly off to the side.

The boy frowns, but his lips soon lift as he turns to greet his father. "Hi dad."

"Hello, my son." He nods. His smile turns a little more stern as he turns to Neytiri. "Hello, auntie Tiri. What's going on?"

Neytiri opens her mouth to speak, but Neteyam taps her thigh and mouths a little something. It's not hard to read his lips, nor had he tried to hid it so hard, but Jake looks away out of respect.

Auntie Tiri nods and looks back up to Jake, "I figured he needed some practice."

"He practiced this morning."

"I know." She raises one hand up in surrender, "Practice makes perfect." She ruffles Neteyam's hair. Though coming from his dad it was annoying, it is apparently endearing coming from his aunt. "Could I talk to you in the house?"

"Of course."

She hardly waits for him to reply before she pats Neteyam on the head again and says, "I'll be right back, keep practicing."

Neteyam nods excitedly. However, Jake stops him. "No, put that down." It dampens his son's spirits, but he nods. Both of them know that something could go wrong if Neteyam practices unsupervised.

Neytiri rolls her eyes, but doesn't protest. Instead, she heads inside, Jake close behind.

"What is it that–"

"Your son, our kid, " She begins with firmness. "he came to me asking me to help him improve."

"What? He's only seven." Jake reasons, "Why would he?"

"He's your oldest." She replies simply. "Your heir, the next Olo'eyktan. There's a lot of pressure that comes with that." She spoke with experience. Between you, him, and her, she had so much more experience. He wonders sometimes how they've come to this arrangement, if she could be a better mom than he, a dad.

"Yeah… I know. But I don't give him any pressure. I make sure of it." Does he really? Are each of his words premeditated, thought out?

"He's only a year older than Lo'ak and Kiri, but he already has it ingrained in him that he has to protect them." Neytiri crosses her arms, giving him a pointed look, "Like you said, he's seven. He still deserves to be hugged and kissed."

"I try to."

"You try to?"

"It's hard when, you know…" He sighs, "your parents coddled your brother more than you."

She purses her lips, thinks it over. "I may not know about you and your brother," She begins on a lighter note. "but I know that you can relate your experiences with him with our children, your sons. At least you know what not to do. Just make sure they know you love them, and that they are still children that should play, while you still can."

"Yeah." He nods, "I will."

☾⋆☆⋆☽

The children played with each other, for once not beckoning their parents into play or sparking arguments between each other.

So for the first time in a long time, you had some moments of peace.

"He reminds me a lot of Neytiri, Neteyam." You spoke in a hushed voice, wary of their young ears.

"How so?" Jake squeezes your shoulder, his arm wrapped around it.

"His smile. It's a lot like hers. Toothy, isn't it?" He was smiling right now. Though it didn't compare to some of his biggest moments of joy, his smile still displayed his growing teeth. It was adorable.

He only has to think of it for a moment before agreeing, "Yeah."

"He's good with his bow. Don't doubt that he'll make a great hunter one day. And his love for Ikran..." Your face lights up at the memories, "even though he doesn't have one."

"About that, love..." Jake begins solemnly.

You turn to him, away from your playing children, at his serious tone. "What is it?"

"Neteyam," He glances over at the boy. Thankfully, he hadn't heard him speak his name. He lowers his voice and continues, "Neytiri told me he's been trying to get better at using a bow."

"Hm, well, he's probably trying to impress us."

"And that he wanted to protect his siblings. He feels," He purses his lips, "like its his responsibility. It's what he worries about."

"Does he?" You huff, "He has asked a lot lately, about the dangers of the jungle. I thought he just wanted to look out for himself, but now that I think about it..."

"He wanted to know so that he could keep his siblings safe." Jake finishes for you.

"Hey, I wanted to play with it!"

"I had it first!"

Before either of you can act, Neteyam stands first. He gives you only the smallest of glances before pushing his siblings away from each other.

"What? Hey!" Lo'ak shouts.

"Go away, Neteyam!" Kiri struggles against her brother's hold.

At his sudden interference, the toy falls to the ground. Neteyam kicks it to his feet. "Stop fighting!" He hisses at the both of them, making them falter. "It's either one or the other. Got that? You can take turns."

"Me first!" The children scream simultaneously, Kiri finishes her sentence first by a millisecond.

"Ugh." Lo'ak groans, but he begrudgingly kicks the toy in her direction. "Fine, you can have it first. But you get ten minutes!"

Kiri grins, picking up the toy, "That's good enough."

With the argument over, Neteyam smiles. He turns back towards his own toy, but not before sparing a not so subtle glance in your direction. Seeing your encouraging smiles, his own grows larger.

"He didn't need to do that."

Jake nods, "But he did, anyway."

"You're right." You shake your head with a sigh, "We should wait for the right moment to tell him."

☾⋆☆⋆☽

That moment doesn't take long.

Lo'ak had grown restless at home, and even more at the village, so he proposed one thing: to let him and his siblings explore the jungle. It wasn't a surprising proposal, you'd allowed them to do so many times before. Neteyam, Kiri, and Lo'ak often explored the jungle; so, you allowed it without a thought.

The jungle was a beautiful place, one you were proud to call home, so you were happy that your children were falling in love with it too.

However, as curfew grows closer and your children do not return yet, your worry begins to grow.

The children had shown time and time again that they knew curfew, knew the way home, knew to come back safely. You trusted them to come back.

Your rapidly growing concern and restlessness burst, and you must find them yourself. As much as Jake had reassured you, as much as you wanted to trust them, something was clearly wrong. You had to find them.

As you mount your ikran, though, they emerge from the tree line.

Neteyam and Lo'ak prop Kiri up, helping her walk. They've got her arms around their shoulders. Together, the three of them, they're mismatched. Lo'ak wishes to run, Neteyam doesn't want to injure Kiri further, and she is weak.

You're quick to whisk Kiri up and bring her inside, whilst Jake grabs a hold of his sons and brings them in too.

You place Kiri down on your hammock, "Where does it hurt?"

"My side." She yells back, her eyes spilling fresh tears. She was scratched up everywhere, from her arms to her knees, but the most concerning gash was on her side. It was a long cut, spanning from her belly button to her chest.

"I got you, baby girl." You assure.

While you rush to patch up Kiri, Jake squats in front of his sons and questions them. "What happened?"

Neither boy wishes to speak, but between the two of them, the culprit is clear. Still, he knows that he has to wait for them to speak up. If Neteyam speaks first, Jake will know what the boy has burdened himself with. If Lo'ak speaks, he will know that the boy has the responsibility to admit his own faults.

Regardless, because none of them speak, Kiri does. She clearly wished to have the culprit, which inadvertently caused her injuries, be punished. "Lo'ak led us to a forbidden area!"

"No I didn't!" Lo'ak bites back.

"Yeah, I did." Neteyam steps forward and puts an arm in front of his brother in order to shield him from his father's impending scolding. "I convinced them it wasn't such a dangerous place."

There it was. Neteyam taking the blame. He took protecting his siblings so far, that he was willing to take the blame and the punishment for what Lo'ak did. Jake hated it, hated that he reminded him of his brother so much.

"Neteyam, you and I both know you know the dangers the most." Jake points a finger at him, "So step back."

The boy follows his instructions, but for once, not obediently. He looks down at the ground and backs off with a subtle scoff.

"Oh, so now you decide he's not to be believed?!" Lo'ak huffs, crossing his arms. "I didn't–"

"You did." Jake interrupts him, "And I need you to admit it."

"Fine!" Lo'ak shouts, "I did it! But I didn't think it would be so dangerous."

"I know that, son." Jake says, placing a hand on his shoulder. Lo'ak tries to shake it off, but he ultimately fails to do so. He settles on ignoring its heavy presence. "But you're still responsible for the consequences."

"I didn't mean for Kiri to get hurt." The boy mumbles.

"Tell that to her."

"I'm sorry, Kiri." He mumbles that too, but Kiri hears it anyway.

Though she rolls her eyes, something Lo'ak can't see because you cover her body with your own as you work away, and accepts the apology, "Fine." She hisses slightly, which Lo'ak mistakes as directed to him. The sound makes him falter.

"The two of you, listen to me." Jake places his other hand on Neteyam's shoulder, pulling the brothers close to each other.

"You should listen too." You tell Kiri. She nods.

"You should all to take care of each other, equally. That means protecting each other. Not just you, Lo'ak; not just you, Kiri," He nods in each of his kids' directions, "not just you, Neteyam. You got that?"

Neteyam nods immediately, while Lo'ak nods with a scowl and eyebrows knitted. He was displeased to be asked to act just like his stuck up brother.

"Hey." Jake shakes his son not so gently to make sure he is paying attention. "Lo'ak, I need you to protect your siblings. Because, in this world, it's not just you. It's all of us, it's this family. Your brother, your sister, they need taking care of. And if we're not there, who will do that? You. You have to."

"It's not an "if he can't do it, then I have to"." You cut in to add, "It's not a toy to be passed around. It is something you should all be doing, all the time."

"Today was just an example. Tomorrow," He gestures to the side with the nod of his head, "if things do not change, worse things can happen."

"Okay." Lo'ak nods. Though the solemn look on his face is new and different, it meant he was taking it seriously.

Jake nods too, "Good. Neteyam," Knowing that the boy will be much more affected by his words, Jake keeps it simple. "that means it's not all up to you. Don't take the fall for things you didn't cause."

"Okay." Neteyam agrees too.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Auntie Tiri loved to visit the kids. Though she knew she wasn't their mother in the family sense, she still thought of them as her own children. You weren't one to complain, much as you teased her, because it meant you and Jake could have some time of your own.

"Second time this week?" You laugh, greeting Neytiri at the entrance. "It's only just beginning, too."

"If I birthed them, I at least get to raise them." Neytiri argues. The words don't make much sense to the children, thankfully, or else you would have a lot of explaining you weren't quite ready for.

You roll your eyes and let her in. As she passes you, you walk outside. Behind you, you hear screams of delight as the children see Neytiri.

After Jake says his temporary goodbye's, he follows you outside.

He lets out a sigh of relief as the even fresher air of the outside washes over his face. "It's been a while since we got to be alone, right?"

"Just two days, my love." You remind him. "Neytiri visited two days ago."

"Hmm," He snickers, "right."

He lets out a yawn, stretches his limbs far up into the sky. As he brings them down, though, one arm not so subtly wraps around your waist. Even less subtly, it pulls you close to his side. "Wanna go for a walk?" He offers nonchalantly.

You chuckle, placing a hand a on the one he's got around you. "Sure."

The benefit of being alone with each other often was that your children were not responsibility for the tiniest of moments. It also meant you didn't have to speak of them.

But usually, as your children are the light of your life, most things end up being about them.

"Your hair's starting to dread up, love." You remark, wrapping the end of one of his locks around your finger. It was just a little strand, but the hair above clumps together.

"Ah, well, I don't have the time." He sighs, "Between Olo'eyktan duties, giving advice to folk, taking care of the kids..."

"I could braid it for you." You offer.

"I heard that takes a long time." He says, but he's done more than hear it. He's witnessed it, seen your children slouched over themselves, falling asleep whilst your fingers still nimbly worked on their braids. "Don't know if I've got enough."

"Well, we can keep it dreaded." You shrug, "Whatever you like."

"What do you like?" He retorts.

You roll your eyes. "Whatever you like to wear will be what I love, Jake."

"That's an awfully sweet," He begins slowly, coaxing a soft smile out of your lips. "lie. Too uncharacteristic of you, my darling."

You laugh. The sound is... young. It sounds young. You've known each other for seven years now, been parents for most of that time, and you've matured so much since the first time he laid eyes on you. Those laughs, ones without the worry of your children or responsibilities, had seemed forgotten. He's glad it's still there.

The conversation falters and you fall to comfortable silence; but something picks at Jake, at the back of his mind.

"Is there..." He pauses, not too sure if he really wants to mention it. He's already started, though, and he does feel as though it is something that should be talked about. "anyone Lo'ak reminds you of?"

"Lo'ak..." You hum as you think, "well, Lo'ak is his own person. He's a special kid. There's no one quite similar to him. Why do you ask?"

"He reminds me of myself. My younger self." Jake says. It was the original thing he wanted to say.

"Oh."

"Reckless, quick to jump into a fight, defensive, couldn't take the blame... I couldn't take anything seriously." He lists off things, each one putting a dampener on his mood. "A child in a man's body."

His lowering spirits were affecting yours, so you stop your walk to make sure your next words are registered fully. You take his hands in yours and begin, "Some of those things aren't always bad. Defensiveness means, well, you're protective of your loved ones. And not taking things so seriously... you can always make me happy. You can lighten any situation. As for the recklessness, well, it was always funny when you failed at some Na'vi things."

"Hey!"

"What I'm trying to say is, you're still defensive, you're still humorous in harsh situations. These are both things of your younger self and the self that stands before me." You bring a hand to his cheek and he nuzzles against it. "They are part of who you are; and those same things, they're part of who Lo'ak is. If we tried to change them, Lo'ak wouldn't be himself. All of those traits are bad at varying degrees. If we teach him correctly, he can still be himself. Less reckless, more serious, but still himself."

Much as an annoying rascal he was now, it was the Lo'ak Jake still loved, has loved for seven years. He couldn't imagine his son any other way.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Everyone loved Neteyam. It was hard not to.

Lo'ak and Kiri, on the other hand, often received many stares. It was harder for them to make friends outside of the family; harder to avoid the comments about their fingers and eyebrows. Though Lo'ak had a penchant for an argument (which had lessened ever since you began parenting him better) this was where he and Kiri agreed.

When Neteyam played with his friends, Lo'ak and Kiri often stuck together. Their differences and toy-sharing difficulties were pushed aside.

Neteyam often tried to coerce his friends to play with Kiri and Lo'ak, they were only a year younger after all, but it usually devolved into asking them why they had such funny fingers.

Jake and you often noticed it. You saw your children's awkward, uncomfortable faces. But you knew things would only be worse if you interfered. Children were often like that, picking at the little things. Just kissing your children would earn them the nickname of "sempuyä 'evi". Besides, they needed to be independent.

It was a matter that sparked concern between you.

"I was right about their differences." Jake grumbles. He subtly observed his children from above, at a high point in the village. Less people were going to spot his vigilant dad behavior up there.

"They'll make friends eventually, find people who don't care." You reassured him, but you spoke it into the world because you were really wishing for it to happen.

"Like you?" He muses.

"If you want a comparison point." You let out a little laugh.

Jake wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you close. Just then, a little someone breaks through the crowd of nosy kids and sticks their hand out.

Rather than judging your children or pointing out their differences, they exclaim "Wow that's so cool!" so loudly that you can hear it from up there. It warms your heart.

Lo'ak eventually found friends that actually deserved him. Kiri, on the other hand, well, the friends found her. Unfortunately, it was after that that she discovered she actually preferred alone time better than having so many people around her, disturbing her thoughts with constant chatter. So, she didn't often talk with her friends. The only thorn on her side, though, was the human kid, Spider. She tolerated his presence often. She actually even seemed to like his voice.

But while they had gotten over that problem, Jake was still worried.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Your children had yet again become a year older. In the past year, you'd taught them all so many things. You made sure Neteyam, Lo'ak, and Kiri were all protective over each other equally; that Lo'ak learned how to control his recklessness and maintain his humorous attitude; that Kiri felt connected to Eywa.

You knew that, when you allowed them to be on their own, they would be just fine.

After seven years of taking care of your children so actively, you no longer had to worry so much. It was sort of a relief.

Naturally, though, you sort of missed it.

"I want another kid."

"What?"

"Another girl would be nice." You hum to yourself, "She'd be the cutest little thing."

Once the initial shock wears off (because you don't just mention that out of nowhere) Jake finds himself agreeing. He, too, missed coddling his children. "Yeah, she would."

"Did you ever get a copy of the picture Norm took of you?"

"Of course not." Jake grumbles. "It's embarrassing."

"Only because you make it." You snicker, booping him on the nose. He responds by scrunching it up and flinching back. "I think it's rather cute."

"I only think Kiri was cute." He wipes his nose. "We can talk to Neytiri and–"

"I want her to be yours."

"What? But–" Jake shakes his head profusely, his eyebrows knitted together. "I can't have another kid turn out like... like me."

"Five fingers and eyebrows?" You ask.

"Yes." He replies immediately. "I can't have her be... different. Lo'ak and Kiri, they struggled to make friends because of their differences."

"You know that Lo'ak made his own friends."

"It took time." He argues, "Don't you remember his face, every time he came back home? It was horrible. In fact, he asked you to pull him onto your lap and kiss his cheeks over and over just for reassurance. Which–"

"Which he asked for because he loves me, not because it's uncharacteristic of him." You say, implying that Lo'ak loves you more.

Jake rolls his eyes. "I don't want to see another kid go through that again. I just want another normal kid that'll make friends flawlessly."

"There's nothing wrong with being special." You take his hands in yours. His hand was only bigger because of his extra finger, which wraps around your hand. You bring it up to show him, "Nothing better with being normal."

"Why... why can't you do it, then?"

"Because," You begin, smile lighting up your face. "even you still haven't gotten over your differences." Jake looks away. His silence to the accusation is as much of an answer as affirmation is. "This child will be proof that your differences don't make you any worse than a regular Na'vi. Because you are on of the people. You are the Olo'eyktan. You are one of us."

"How do you know?" He grumbles, but he was starting to believe you. "Did Eywa tell you, or something?"

☾⋆☆⋆☽

With Tuktirey, you couldn't be any happier.

And she came out, as promised, with four fingers and hairless browbones.

She was a pudgy little thing, and everyone loved her. You could see it in their eyes and their smiles that the kids loved her at first sight. Their toothy grins would grow even wider when they each got to carry her; even if Lo'ak nearly dropped her.

Though she couldn't even speak and hardly babbled, you could tell that you would come to love her.

You held Tuk in your hands, laying your head over Neteyam's legs. He made for a bony pillow, but you loved him so much you could get over it. Jake hugged Lo'ak with one arm. Kiri was sprawled horizontally over the both of you, her head laying on your stomach. Your muntxatan nuzzled his nose into your neck as he spoke, "I met your sempu while I was training."

"He fell from the tree branches onto the mud at my feet." You explain less graciously, causing an uproar of laughs from each of your children.

"Ah-ah," Jake breaks up the mocking laughter, "you say it's like Eywa sent me to you, no?"

"Okay, fine, I guess." You roll your eyes playfully.

Jake laughs. You can feel the deep rumble of vibrations going through his neck against your shoulder. "It was love at first sight."

☾⋆☆⋆☽

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ 2: it's a cute prompt, of course, could fulfill it with headcanons, however I wanted some Lo'ak and Neteyam struggle + scared father Jake - one of these scenes (if you saw it, you know the scene) was made using the dialogue of this incredibly fucking cute fanart. It's just Lo'ak instead of Neteyam here. - I made Jake a better father because his kids deserve better