#flicker damage to trees

[prythianpages]

Beautiful Stranger | Azriel

Azriel x Reader | Azriel gets injured while on a mission and meets someone he never thought he would. aka you finding an injured Az and the mating bond snapping.

warnings: mentions injuries and blood; other than that, this is light & fluff

word count: 4,342

a/n: I love Halsey's Finally//Beautiful Stranger & when it came on my shuffle while driving, this fic played out in my mind.

Humming quietly to yourself to keep your thoughts occupied, you allow the glow of the moon and fireflies to guide you back to the village. Dawn Court was your home, but after the fall of Spring, you had volunteered to help its fae, creatures, and land heal from the devastation left by Hybern’s attacks.

Though the damage to Spring was immense, its beauty still endured. The air still held a lingering heaviness but the flowers had begun to bloom once more with promise and hope of a better future. Your task today had been to gather healing herbs, yet when you stumbled upon a field of dandelions in full bloom, you couldn’t resist the urge to stop and admire the scenery. It was why you were returning late at night, long past the sunset you had promised to return by.

As you made your way along the path, the gentle breeze grew colder and sharper. It rustled the leaves on the trees and made the branches creak, its eerie sound halting your steps and silencing your humming. A chill of unease prickled your skin and your muscles tensed in alarm. 

Then you saw them. 

Shadows, darker than the night itself, swirling around you.

These were not the shadows you were used to seeing at night. No, these shadows felt alive and with purpose. 

You should’ve turned back. But there was something in the way they moved, fluid and insistent, that made you follow. With every step, they guided you away from the familiar moonlit path and deeper into the forest, pulling you toward the river that ran through the heart of the woods.

A flicker of blue light was coming from just beyond the tree line, catching your eye. Curiosity tugged at you, drawing you closer. The shadows slithered toward the faint glow, vanishing into the darkness by the water’s edge.

When you finally reached the riverbank, your breath hitched at the sight before you.

A male lay sprawled on the shore, half-submerged in the water, his blood mingling with the river’s water. Blinking your eyes, you saw the shadows that led you to him, clinging to his battered form and limp wings. They pulsed in a protective manner. It’s then that you recognized the source of the blue light. It was coming from the gems attached to the leathers he wore. 

Siphons. He must be Illyrian…but what was an Illyrian from the Night Court doing in Spring? Alone?

It didn’t matter. You immediately rushed and knelt beside him, your healer’s instincts snapping into action. Your finger’s pressed against his neck, mind racing with worry and dread as his skin felt cold against yours. He must’ve been out for awhile now. The nerves eased slightly when you felt a pulse. 

Weak but present. 

You slipped your arms beneath him, the shadows aiding you as they wrapped around his arms, helping you turn him over to his side. His dark hair clung to his face, your hand reaching up to brush it back.

Your eyes finally met the face of the fallen warrior and something snapped. 

So piercing and electrifying, it had your heart fluttering from the intensity. All at once, the golden threads of the bond you’d only heard stories about unraveled in your chest. They weaved between your rib cage, pulling you tight toward him. A pull so strong it left you breathless and in shock.

Fate and shadows had brought him to you. Your mate.

But the exhilaration of it all was soon smothered by panic, the golden threads beginning to quiver. His blood, too much of it, stained the riverbank. His body was limp in your arms, his breathing shallow.

You had found your mate and already, you were on the verge of losing him before you could even learn his name.

**

Azriel wakes to the sound of singing, a nice and sweet sound, and he catches faintly to the words. He’s never felt so warm, so relaxed. His senses are dulled by grogginess, his body sluggish, but something feels… different. Lighter, somehow. 

Beside him, his shadows stir, the familiar weight of their presence grounding him. But there's also something else— different from the cool and light caresses of his shadows. Firmer. Warmer. The pressure is foreign but comforting.

As his senses slowly return, the scent of herbs and incense reach him before his eyes flutter open. Where am I? He thinks, finally blinking his eyes to clear his vision.

The first thing he sees is you, the source of the beautiful singing.

Light streams into the room, casting a golden halo around you. It strikes him hard, stealing his breath and sending a shock through his chest. He doesn’t know who you are, what you are. But you’re beautiful, so beautiful that his brows furrow in bewildered awe. There’s no way, he thinks. I don’t belong here…

He wills his dry lips to part, his voice is rough and barely audible. “Am I…dead?”

Your eyes widen and your singing comes to a sudden stop, startled by his sudden words. The warmth he felt vanishes as you pull your hand back, and only then does he realize it had been your touch on his face earlier. Your hand hovers between you, glowing faintly with a bronze light, like the first rays of dawn, before you settle it into your lap.

“No,” you finally answer. “You’re not dead.”

Azriel tears his gaze from your face, even though some part of him protests. His eyes wander around the small room, taking in the sparse furniture, the wooden desk cluttered with jars and vials. The sunlight continues to stream through the single window, the curtain hanging doing little to dull the brightness thanks to the Spring breeze. It blinds him when it catches his eyes and he winces, looking away. 

His attention is inevitably drawn back to you. You’re seated beside him, perched on a small stool that does not look comfortable by the bed. His shadows, the loyal dark tendrils that always remain by his side, are dancing around you. Their movement is playful, loving almost and you don’t seem bothered by it. As if they’ve done this before. 

The sight stirs an unfamiliar flutter in his chest.

The flutter is cut short when one of his wings, too big for the bed he’s in, twitches and knocks into the bedside table. A vial tumbles to the floor, the sound of shattering glass jerking his body forward, and in an instant, the memories come rushing back.

He remembers the mission. Rhysand had sent him to the wall separating the mortal lands from Prythian. He had met with Jurian, the encounter brief, and then he was on his way back—flying over the Spring Court when he was ambushed. His mind aches as he tries to remember more but all he remembers is being struck by poisoned arrows and falling through trees. Multiple trees.

Hot, searing pain stabs through him at the sudden movement and your hands fly to his bandaged chest, gently urging him to sit back. “You’re safe,” you reassure him. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Azriel shouldn’t feel comforted by your words, not when he barely knows you. However, he finds your voice soothing. He listens, allowing himself to slowly lean back against the pillows, despite his mind screaming at him that you’re a stranger. Your hands remain on his chest, glowing again with that soft bronze light, and the sharp pain in his body begins to ebb away, fading into a dull ache. Much more bearable.

His shadows return to him, sighing with relief as they nestle close. Azriel watches you, keen hazel eyes taking in more of your features. The curve of your lips, the softness of your eyes. They draw him in, and he finds himself unable to look away. Had it not been for the pain that shot through him moments ago, he would’ve thought you lied to him about not being dead. Because surely you weren’t from this world to have him in a daze like this…

“Who are you?”

“I’m…,” you hesitate, uncertainty crossing your features. He watches with bated breath, waiting but the words seem to catch in your throat. You swallow, clearing your throat before speaking again. “I’m just a healer.”

“And here I thought you were an angel from above.”

A quiet laugh escapes you, and the tension in your posture melts away. The corner of your lips tug up into a faint smile, one that Azriel surprisingly finds himself mirroring. “Sorry to disappoint.”

He doesn’t think. The words spill from him before he can stop them. “I didn’t say I was disappointed.”

The flush that dawns across your cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed. You turn your head, trying to hide the reaction. It’s too late. Azriel already saw it and even if he hadn’t, his shadows are happily gushing over it. Some, the ones not distracted by your beauty, curled around his ear and whispered about the emotion lingering on your face, in your eyes.

There was more you meant to say. Words left unsaid and he wants to know, the curiosity and yearning bordering on desperate. His gaze assesses you again, searching for an answer. For a hint. His shadows continue to whisper. Good, they say reassuringly, sensing no danger or malintent in you. We found her for you!

She saved master's life. Master was out for three days and she stayed by master’s side. She’s–

“What’s your name?” You ask, pulling him from the silent conversation with his shadows.

Azriel is not one to give his name so easily, often going by what he was–a Shadowsinger– rather than who he was. He’s also not one to dwell in places he’s unfamiliar with longer than necessary. But you saved his life and for some strange reason, his shadows had taken an immediate liking to you. They seem to trust you and therefore, so does he.

“Azriel.”

“Azriel,” you repeat and his shadows shudder in response, as though they, too, are captivated by the sound of it on your lips. His stomach flutters in time with their movement.

“What about yours?”

“Y/n.”

“Y/n,” he says, repeating your name the same way you had his. His shadows dance in the air around you both.

**

It’s late morning, as you pick up the empty plate from him, that he feels the familiar sensation of talons scraping against his mind. Azriel?? Rhysand’s voice is urgent, the frantic panic of it making him wince. Your head immediately turns in concern and Azriel brushes it off with a small shake of his head.

I’m alive. Azriel responds, his answer curt as he’s once again distracted by your presence.

Thank The Mother, Rhysand breathes a sigh of relief. Where are you? Are you somewhere safe? Do you need me to–

I’m fine. I was attacked while flying through Spring. 

Who? Rhysand demands.

Given the fact that whoever ambushed me has made no move to find me and finish the job, I’d say no one of importance. Azriel replies, lips curving into a small frown at the thought of being caught off guard and attacked. It rarely happened, his shadows always keeping him one step ahead of anyone and anything. Had they been distracted…?

He turns his head, searching for the shadows in question. Some remained with him, choosing to burrow under the blankets. The others, however, were hovering at your side and helping you clean up from breakfast. One even opens the door for you and he hears you murmur a small thanks as you leave the room.

Azriel had spent most of the afternoon sleeping. He didn’t want to, not liking the idea of being in such a vulnerable state with someone he barely knew. It’s not that he suspected you’d harm him or had bad intentions–you literally saved his life for Cauldron’s sake! It was just a feeling he was not used to. To be able to sleep safe and sound.

When he woke up again, it was a brand new day. He realized the bandages on his chest and arm had been changed. He was slowly gathering his strength back. One of his shadows must’ve given him away because shortly after he woke, you had walked in with a friend. 

“Wow,” the dark haired fae murmured, her steps faltering. Her eyes had widened in wonder, taking in the large expanse of his wings that made the bed look ridiculously small. “The Cauldron truly favors you.”

Azriel’s gaze couldn’t help but narrow. Those words had been directed at you, not him. 

You’d introduced her as Poppy, explaining she was your friend, another healer whose family had taken you in. Poppy had left shortly after setting a steaming bowl of stew on the table right next to the bed. She had been adamant on letting him know her mother had made it and not you, which he found odd.

Azriel was surprised to learn this was your room and you’d given it up for him. He tried to protest, offering to sleep on the couch or floor. Of course, you had refused and he was even more surprised to learn you were more stubborn than he was. 

Where are you in Spring? Rhysand’s presence in his mind pulls him back to the present. He hopes he hadn’t accidentally projected his memory to his friend, wanting to keep it to himself for now. I can send Cassian, if you’re unable to fly. 

No. Azriel responds immediately and he can feel Rhysand’s confusion. I’m alive and safe. I just need more time to recover. 

And without waiting for a response, Azriel brings up his mental shields again, shutting Rhysand out. He can only hope he doesn’t send Feyre knocking on his mind next. Or worse, actually send Cassian to Spring, despite him saying not to.

He should’ve said yes, and accepted the help. The Spring Court was among the least favorite of his courts, in tie with the Autumn Court. He had a strong distaste for the High Lord, who remained wandering through his forests like a beast. 

As you return to the room, Azriel catches sight of a faint glow wrapped around your wrist. He hadn’t seen it before, the glow of your magic outshining the gold ink etched there. A sun, cradled by a crescent moon, and below the moon, a fine lined star glimmers, connecting the two celestial bodies with its ray of starshine. 

“You’re far from home.” Azriel comments, nodding toward the tattoo.

“So are you,” you answer, lips turning up at the slight flush that takes over Azriel. You then glance down at the tattoo on your wrist. The insignia of your Court with the added touch of your healing gift. The tattoo was an honor, a testimony of the oath you had taken after mastering your magic. “I came to Spring to help after the war.”

“Will you go back home after?” He asks, a little too quickly, then clears his throat. His shadows snicker beside him in a knowing manner. “Or will you stay here?”

“I’ll stay here as long as I’m needed.”

He doesn’t understand why but a part of him feels relieved that you’re not attached to this court. 

“You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need,” you then add. 

He feels an odd sense of relief, and his shadows give a little wiggle in excitement. He sends them a glare, and they sheepishly return to hiding under the covers. Though one brave shadow lingers by his side long enough to whisper, you'll find out soon Master.

“They’re cute," your voice pulls him from questioning his teasing shadow.

Azriel lets out a snort, the effort making his chest and stomach ache. Cute. His shadows had been called many things—strange, unnerving, even unsettling—but never cute. They typically clung to him, weaving around his form quietly, careful not to disturb anyone. Unless he sent them on a mission of their own or they had a mission of their own.

Occasionally, they’d make an exception for Cassian, creeping up behind him just to tap his shoulder and bask in his exasperation when he turned to find nothing there. They’d even tried their luck with Rhysand once, though he was never fooled. Yet, for reasons Azriel couldn’t fathom, his shadows had taken an immediate liking to you, drifting toward you whenever they could.

The said shadows peek out from under the covers, almost shyly. If they could blush, he’s sure they would be at this moment. They're never going to forget this moment.

“I wouldn’t call them cute,” Azriel replies, ignoring their indignant hisses.

Conversation flows easily between you two from there, Azriel giving into his curiosity to know and learn more about you. Much to his surprise, Azriel indulged you in your questions, telling you about his shadows and things about himself he rarely told others. They were small, trivial things such as his exact favorite shade of blue and his biggest pet peeve. Yet you held onto every word, every detail and it felt strangely comforting.

Two more days passed, Azriel’s body still healing. Slowly but surely. You had been able to recover one of the arrows that had shot him. Not that it mattered. Azriel was now, unfortunately, familiar with the effects of faebane. It hindered his healing and though it was frustrating, there was one upside to it all–the friendship blossoming between you and Azriel.

There’s a knock on the door as you mix Azriel’s concoction for pain. “Yes?” You call out.

Poppy peeks her head in. “I was just checking to see if I had given you enough spearmint for the pain tonic and also to let you know that we’ll be out most of the day. If you wanted to take out your ma—male for a walk or something without being bothered by the little ones.”

You freeze and a sheepish look takes over your features, tainting your cheeks. “Poppy,” you say her name again in what sounds like a warning. “He has a name, you know. And he doesn’t need to be taken on a walk.”

“Oh, right, Azriel,” she says, giving him a cheery wave. “Hello again!”

“Hello,” Azriel replies, shifting in the bed, despite the protests of his muscles. He’s not at all offended by Poppy, her aura too bright and cheery to be bothered. He flashes you a grin that has your grasp on the mixer faltering. “I think a walk would be nice actually.”

“Told you!” Poppy replies. “Anyway, we’ll see you for dinner. Send a butterfly if you need me.”

When the door closes, you let out a small sigh, shaking your head with a small, sheepish smile. “I’m so sorry about her.”

Azriel brushes off your concern, his eyes shining bright when he looks back at you. “How about that walk?”

**

Azriel grunts as he pushes to stand, his wings trembling as he shifts his weight, unused to bearing himself after days of bedrest. He stumbles right into your arms, his usually steady form swaying. You quickly catch him, your arms coming around one of his sides. His shadows dart toward his other side, helping you hold him upright. 

“I’ve got you,” you say softly, your hold surprisingly firm. 

He can't help it. He lets out a low, amused breath. 

“What?” You ask.

“Usually, I’m the one saying that.”

Your lips quirk into a smile, a gleam in your eye, as you help him find his balance. “Well, even the best need someone to lean on sometimes, right?”

Azriel stares at you. Something in his chest tightens–a weird but comforting sensation. It’s similar, if not the same, to what he had felt when he first saw you. Warm and painfully sweet. The feeling reassures him that, though you were strangers mere days ago, you’re someone he can lean on.

“Come on,” you murmur, nodding toward the door. 

Azriel lets you guide him through the house and out onto the porch. You settle there together, cutting the walk very short. You're mindful not to push him too far when he's still recovering. Azriel doesn't mind, the fresh air enough for him. He knows he isn’t at full strength to protect you should anything arise. Even though you most likely know these forests better than himself.

His hands drift to the porch railing as he leans forward for support, fingers curling around the edge. The sunlight glances off his scarred hands, each ridge and mark stark against his skin. He’d kept them hidden beneath the covers and out of your view while bedridden, hiding them instinctively, unable to forget the pitying glances they’d drawn in the past. Though he’s sure you must've seen them when you rescued him.

Now, as he feels your gaze slide toward them, a familiar discomfort tugs at him. He starts to withdraw his hands, wanting to tuck them closer to himself.

But you reach out. Your hand hovers, brushing slightly over his. There’s a slight hesitation—an uncertainty in whether to bridge the space or leave it. In the end, you let your hand rest gently beside his.

Azriel hesitates, unused to this vulnerability, yet unable to move away. He glances up to meet your eyes and his guarded expression softens slightly. “They’re… not easy to look at,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know they’re not.”

“I’m familiar with scars, you know. They don’t make you less of who you are.”

Azriel’s jaw tightens, his gaze dropping where your hands are barely brushing against one another. His throat feels tight, an ache he’s kept buried resurfacing.

“Not to me,” you continue. “I don’t see you any differently because of them.” 

He searches your face and he sees something in your eyes that helps him slowly relax. His gaze returns to your hand, fingers hovering now over his. This time, there’s no hesitation as you gently lay your hand over his, holding it as if the scars didn’t exist at all.

It’s such a simple gesture, yet it speaks volumes. 

His shadows slither down his arm and toward where your hands connect. For the first time, Azriel feels no urge to hide, no shame from the past that has long haunted him.

A silence drifts down between the two of you, settling like a blanket over the conversation. There’s no need to fill it, no awkwardness there. Just a gentle, shared peace, stretching softly around you both. He turns his head, shifting his gaze forward and takes a deep breath. 

He closes his eyes and a breeze rolls in, brushing against his skin and stirring his hair. His shadows begin to whisper excitedly. He basks in the sun’s warmth, and lets the scent of spring fill his senses from the fresh earth to the blooming flowers and the faint sweetness of pollen. It brings forth a tickle in his nose, and before he can stop it, he sneezes. His body groans in response, wings shuddering.

“Bless you,” you say, but he notices the way your mouth quirks as if you’re holding back a laugh.

“What?” he asks, brows furrowing.

“I’m sorry,” you giggle, your free hand rising to stifle it. “It’s just… you have such a fatherly sneeze.”

Azriel raises an eyebrow, a rare, amused smile creeping onto his face. “Fatherly sneeze?” He echoes. He has never heard the expression before yet he somehow understands it. If you thought his sneeze was “fatherly,” he’s curious to see your reaction to one of Cassian’s sneezes. That thought is enough to make him laugh outright.

It's so silly but the sound is so contagious that you laugh too. His shadows began to flutter around you, as if joining in on the laughter. Azriel’s gaze then drifts down, watching the way your lips curve in laughter, how your eyes crinkle at the corners, how effortlessly you draw light into his heart.

And there it is again—that rush of warmth. It’s mixed in with joy, so pure and intense it has to be coming from you. His heart stirs, his pulse quickens, his mind clears, and in a single, life-altering instant, he knows.

“You’re my mate.”

Your smile falters, replaced by a moment of hesitation. Some shadows travel to you, brushing softly against your arms as if in a reassuring manner. He can't help but watch them, realization dawning on him.

“Yeah, I am,” you admit quietly.

“How—when…” His voice catches, unable to form the words.

“I was walking through the forest when your shadows came to me. They led me to you, by the river. You were unconscious and bleeding. And then… the bond snapped for me the moment I saw your face. You were so cold and--and…,” your face tightens, eyes glistening at the memory and Azriel can feel the panic you must’ve felt then. “I’d just found what so many only dream of and you were already slipping away...I thought I’d never get to know your name…”

Azriel feels a pang deep in his chest as he absorbs every word. His chest feels tight again and he swallows thickly. “And when I woke up, why didn’t you tell me?”

Your gaze falls, fingers twisting together. “I wanted you to heal, to feel better. That’s all that mattered.”

“I owe you my life.”

“You don’t owe me anything. I would’ve saved you, mate or not.”

Azriel searches your face, touched beyond words at the sincerity in your tone. It made sense why he felt so drawn to you since the moment he saw you, why his shadows took a sudden liking to you and kept whispering "we found her, we found her!" They had known all this time, been able to sense it before he even could.

Looking back, Poppy being the one to bring him food and water and not you was not as strange as he originally thought. You were being mindful, not wanting to accidentally accept the bond without his knowledge. He felt an overwhelming gratitude for how gentle and considerate you've been with him all along. He couldn’t help but wonder how he had gotten so lucky to be bound to someone like you.

“And would you have sung to me, mate or not?” Azriel asks, his mind drifting back to the exact moment he'd first woken up.

Your cheeks flush, and you glance away toward the gardens, suddenly refusing to meet his eyes. “What?” You let out a small huff. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 “What did I hear?” Azriel’s tone borders on teasing, his expression shifting into one of exaggerated contemplation. “Something like… ‘Beautiful stranger, here you are…’”

“That’s enough!” You interrupt, your face turning into an even deeper shade of pink, caught somewhere between mortification and laughter. 

This time, it’s Azriel holding back a chuckle. His lips curl into a small smirk, seeing the blush that lights up your face. He quite likes that shade on you—likes being the one to bring it out even more. “So…”

You keep your gaze straight ahead. “So…?”

Azriel leans in, his voice low and warm, making your stomach flutter. “Do you sing that song for just anyone too?”

“No,” you let out a laugh, your hands cup your face but there’s no hiding the blush there.  “I’m afraid that song was just for you.”

“Good,” he murmurs.

You turn to look at him, realizing his gaze had never left you. Your hands drop back to the porch railing.  “Yeah?” you whisper, your own heart pounding, not sure what it was you were asking.

But Azriel seems to understand anyway. He can feel what you’re feeling, now fully aware and attentive to the bond humming between you.

“Yeah,” he breathes, his smirk softening into a genuine smile, his heart finally at ease. 

A gentle warmth surges through the bond, reaching every shadowed corner of his heart and wrapping around his soul. It’s a feeling he could get used to, one he’s spent centuries longing and yearning for. It’s a feeling he’s searched for in all the wrong places, enduring the heavy weight of heartbreak after heartbreak.

But now, with you, he feels the weight begin to lift. After all the empty falls and broken promises, it’s finally, finally safe for him to fall.

a/n: you can't tell me Az & Cas don't have dad sneezes lol. Anyway, I really wanted to write a fic where Az finally feels safe with someone because he deserves to. I hope you enjoyed this <3

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444 @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits13, @lorosette

@alwayshave-faith

[chocum]

COMING DOWN !

— bunched up, sweet little whimpers, he always gets so sensitive under your touch feat. choso kamo

WARNINGS. femreader (she/her) x goodguy!cho :3 mentions of violence/death, sub cho, dom reader, overstimulation, begging, blowjob, premature ejaculation ;( crying + 1.2k wc note. i’m so insane abt choso it’s actually scary, he’s all i think about. tysm for all the support on my first post. love u all! feedback + reblogs are appreciated! also art by @/swag_yay on x. ty again & enjoyyy ᡣ𐭩

choso hated missions with a passion that pierced his very soul.

his cursed energy manipulation and combat skills are unrivaled, making him crucial to a mission’s success, but the relentless nature of them drained him beyond words— both mentally and physically.

they feel so repetitive: eliminate curses, protect civilians, prevent damage. eliminate curses, eliminate curses, eliminate.

he has always been driven by a deep desire to protect everyone he could, especially those who were unable to do so themselves, but the constant cycle of violence and death confused him—wrestling with self-doubt, doing mental gymnastics, trying to justify his actions. the cognitive strain became a heavy burden that compounded during missions, further exhausting him like heavy buckets of water dousing an already flickering flame.

and after meeting you — his sweet, sweet girl — his hatred for missions only grew.

the ache of missing you constantly gnawed at him. your homey scent. your taste still fresh on his tongue, preventing him from concentrating because, in his mind, he’s still tangled in your sheets, stealing sweet kisses that linger on his lips long after they’ve left yours.

when out scouting, he would catch glimpses of couples hand in hand in the streets sporting deep smiles, making his stomach twist— his brows pinching together, deepening the ridge between them.

his sole solace was the thought of returning home to his pretty girl once everything was over— it pushes him to keep going, to keep fighting, even avoiding shoko because he preferred your clumsy little hands to patch him up.

finally done with his latest three-week mission — a seeming eternity away from you — he was being driven to your place, to you, home.

head lolling back against the car seat, he spreads his legs wider, rolling his hips to adjust himself, before sinking, letting the leather seat swallow him whole. he tilts his head to the side, deep purple irises flickering, to watch the familiar scenery— large leafy trees crowding the darkening highway under evening skies.

after he waved his goodbyes, giving thanks to his driver, he stumbled up to the door, his fingers fumbling awkwardly with the keys underneath the dim light of the porch. on the other side, the distinct sound of the lock clicking open causes you to bolt up, rushing to greet him.

he pushes it open and there you are. looking up at him with that big smile he adores so much lighting your face— pretty eyes sparkling with relief. you squeal and fling your arms around him without hesitation and he does the same, burying his face into the side of your neck, feeling your hair brush against him, inhaling deeply.

you always smelled so good— a blend of your natural scent and hints of vanilla from your body wash. he’s been craving that scent for so long, growing dizzy now that it finally embraces him, his body falling limp, so weak in your smaller arms.

you pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, fingers gently tracing the smooth lines on his face— lines that seemed deeper since you’d last seen him.

“i missed you so much” you hummed faintly as he cupped your face, nuzzling your warm cheeks against his rough hands.

“i missed you so much more”

he leaned down to find your lips. they felt so much softer than he remembered. kissing you deeply, his calloused hand cradling the back of your neck, drawing you closer into the warmth of his embrace.

and when you moan against him— oh, it sounds so sweet, the blood rushing to his cock so quickly. next thing he knows, he’s rutting against your thigh, pressing against you so, so desperately, almost mounting you.

“what’s wrong cho?” a soft whine escapes him at the sudden loss of contact, “tell me, baby, use your words”

“i’m sorry,” he breathes, a pretty blush crawling up his neck, “just missed you so much— got excited”

“i know, my pretty boy, but ‘m here now, okay? let me take care of you. i know you missed it.” you take his hand, drawing him to your room as he follows obediently, shutting the door behind him, “did you touch yourself without me?”

he shakes his head, his fluffy hair cascading down to rest on his shoulders. “you .. you told me not no”

“good boy”

you push against his shoulders, gently guiding him to sit on the bed, his breath hitching so sweetly watching you lift yourself to straddle his waist. connecting your lips once more, hips grinding against him so slowly— rocking back and forth. his mouth now tinted pink and tenderly swollen from your ardent kisses, you move down to his neck planting a trail of light ones along the sensitive skin, each touch eliciting subtle little quivers and soft exhales. his fists bunch up the sheets, he—

“sorrysorrysorry” he babbles breathlessly— endlessly, his pants turning damp, material darkening as his cock twitches and pulses so cutely, cum drooling out his sensitive slit, “just feel so good against me. been so long. couldn’t even touch myself when you sent those pictures. it’s so sensitive”

“shhhh ‘s okay, cho.” a finger pressed against his pout— pushing its way in for him to suckle on warmly before you slide down to your knees. trailing your hands down his thighs, tugging on the hem of his pants, “i’ll clean you up”

he’s still so hard— his tip blushing, crying white cream, and when you take him in your hands, his hips jerk up for you— body still coming down from his high and you’re already taking him in your mouth, cruelly, licking fat stripes up his twitchy length.

“fuck ‘s too much baby, i just- wai, wait, please.” he’s pawing at you, pushing against your head, but he sounds too cute, crying and whimpering around you for you to stop— looks too cute with the prettiest pink blush shrouding his body from the tips of his heated ears to his curled toes.

you gargle and gag around his cock— exaggerating the sounds because you know it drives him insane. he loves when you get so nasty and messy for him, foamy spit bubbling around where his cock plugs your mouth up. your hands move to cup his warm balls, caressing and squeezing gently, coaxing him to cum for you again.

“ah f- baby, i’m so fucking— please. wanna cum for— you. gonna be so good, gonna—”

he cums salty, thick stripes straight down your warm throat with a whine so pretty you wish it was recorded so you could play it over and over and over.

and he’s crying— it’s too much, feels too good — sweetly hiccuping, sniffing as he hides his face behind his hands. such a pretty boy. he’s growing limp in your mouth and you pull off with a whine before kissing up his shaky legs.

“did so good for me, cho, missed having you like this” lightly moving his hands to pet at his damp cheeks, watching keenly how he leans into your touch, wiping pretty doll-like tears with your thumbs.

knowing that he has you to take such good care of him once he’s home will forever ease his mind while he’s away, a comforting thought that lingers like a soft embrace, even in your absence.

[cosmique-oddity]

Phew, my last weeks of work are now complete >:)

I loved Dratchet and Ratchlock since the very beginning of my attachment towards Transformers, first TFP Ratchet…..but yeah….two of my favorites character….plus Keferon’s Mech AU…..I had to make my own thing about it.

A story….no…an illustration ! I couldn’t choose. So I did both :}

—————————————————

That was not the first time Ratchet came back to his private lab angry, but this time, yelling at his superiors, and at the system, and basically at evverything that could be yelled at except the pilotd while leaving the manufacture, was certainly the last. He quit. That was enough,

you don’t win a war with feelings they said

well yes,

exactly,

but you win a war with soldier, and frying their mind before they have their first fight because you want them to be more perfectionned ? That was a little counter productive.

So he gave up. They are on their own now.

The lightly humming of his car was barely enough to keep him awake, it have been a long time since he last returned home, usually, he stayed at his work place, to have more time to sleep, but then, he was sleeping even less. An endless vicious circle, things were often like that.

But all of that was over for him.

He granted these young greenhorn with his experience, and what did they do ? Ignored his advices. Sending pilots to death. So now, he had himself out of the infernal machinery. This mindless waste of human life, even where this is what they tried to save was absurd.

In the middle of his quiet and late ride, he heard a noise. Rumbling, was it the engine ? As he stopped the car backroad to check, the noise wasnt stopping. Came from the sky, military patrol ? He raised his two tired eyes on the sky and saw a shining rail approaching his forest, falling fast. Not quintesson shaped, and with the gaze of an experimented biomechanist, Ratchet identified a mech.

At this moment, its violently crashed on the ground, behind the trees at maybe three or four miles away. No matter how hard he argued with the scientist sooner this day or how bad he wanted to say fuck to all of this death industry who killed young soldiers, he could do something for the one trapped inside the mech....maybe.... the man regained his car as fast as possible and urgently headed for the crash area.

Deafened sound of tires on the damaged road. Ratchet was already projecting, mentally stocktaking the tools he took with him, and lucky enough for the poor pilot, he quit with almost all of his material, and even if it was mainly mechs repairing material, he also bought some instruments which were used for the subtle neuromedicine between human and mech. Could adapt some of it and stabilize the pilot....then he may have the time to go home and grab proper materials. If there was life there was hope.

" bold of him to crash himself just the day i insulted all of his hierachy".

He frowned. Almost there.

The trees nearby were crushed and uprooted. A flickering pink light catched his gaze.

Almost immediately, the Ratchet analyzed the mech. It was different. He didnt know in wich country it was made but that almost looks alien. The curves and shapes, busted and burned on several places were demonstrating an incredible display of genius ingeniery he could just admiring. But time was not for being amazed on plating.

Someone was trapped there.

He stopped and parked his car in front of a fallen tree, rushing to the car's trunk, taking few indispensable objets, including some of them to help a safe disconnection between pilot/mech. In case he wasnt out already. And a crowbar, the cockpit might be stuck, seeing all the damages the mech has taken...

The sound of slightly wet grass under his feet was covered by a frenetic noise of aeration. Ratchet listened to it, while cautiously approaching the unknown mech. It almost sounded like a breath, but was certainly a depressurisation issue. The mech had fallen from so high on the sky....

The damaged plating were hot, probably from atmosphere friction. He raised his crowbar and his eyes followed the curves of the chestplates, searching for a familiar shape, that could lead him to the injured pilot inside. His gaze stopped on a deep wound, that might have cut through the cockpit.

The engineer stepped on the hot metal, his thick boots preventing him from feeling the heat, and he started searching for a hint....anything that could be a mechanism, anything that could open this damn mech !

Ratchet considered the damaged chest plate he noticed earlier. The surroundings of the wound were leaking bright pink, a very unusual color for fuel. Another of these definitively strange things about the mech. Again....not the time for that. Maybe if he could widen the gap, then he would be able to have an idea of what was going on under this armor.

He tapped the plate, -it was starting to cool down- with one of his finger. It was a very little tap, but the whole mech startled. A hiss of pain, recognisible easily by an emerite engineer-but-i-fix-people-too, it had come from the head of the mecha. Was this modele controlled from the head, like Vortex ? But Vortex was insanely huge for a mech, way taller than this one. He moved careful, noticing the shaking of his support.

"You hear me, kid ? Its going to be ok. You crashed in a safe area.".

He spoke in his medic tone, wich mean, of course brusque, serious, but also reassuring and calm.

He mumbled about the mech's features and tiny words of comfort while reaching for the head.

A red light, not regular and rather epileptic was coming from the head, and while he was almost there, on all four of his limb to keep balance, Ratchet saw it.

A spectacularly humanoid face, with sculpted nose and lips was tensed in a painful expression, frowning, but the thing who trapped his gaze was the two optics....

....staring back at him.

Mechs dont stare. Their eyes are glowing, oftenly to mimick human face, after all, human are pretty prideful creature, no point in piloting big ass metal titan if no one could tell these where their creation.

What human couldnt mimick with technologie, on the other hand, was the subtle expression between trying to evualuate a threat, his own injuries, and looking rather on the verge of death but also ready to tear any enemy's limb appart with its teeth.

With just one....very long....look at the other's eye, Ratchet was suddenly understanding what was going on.

Well....probably not but he knew what he had to save.

The pilot, the pilot he had to save.

The mech was the pilot.

He was the one he had to save.

He stopped trying to -certainly- open his chest. If it wasnt good for human it probably wasnt for living technology.

The giant technological humanoid seemed in a high distress, exhaling a lot of air from his vents, his eye still intensely staring at him and the engineer doubted his usual technique -including trying to make himself as small as possible- would work.

"Its going to be okay Kid. I can help you. There is nothing here that want to harm you".

He did his best to convey all of these emotions with his facial expression and gaze, still firmly watching back at him.

"the world better wait till im home and officially retired before killing me".

The mech's gaze -damn it was so more living than ANY human made machinery- seemed to soften a bit but still radiated with suspicion.

Deadlock had been in several bad situations. It happened quite a lot when a specie of giant aliens with tendrils tried to invade your homeland, and he was ready to it.

Trained to kill, and to do it efficiently.

And he was *good* at it.

This time was just another of these ‘i went too far in my excitation’ moments, and he has crashed on a random planet he hoped was not inhabited. He landed hard, and pieces of his ship must’ve been thrown near his location.

And now, now there was an organic like no one he ever saw, and the organic was on his *lap* and he had the kindest warmest eyes he ever saw.

And these eyes were directly looking at his own eyes, and the well named ‘Deadlock’ was starting to wonder if he finally had reunited with the Allspark. His pained and tenseful grin faded a little and he tried to move his head forward, searching a better point of view to watch the singularity in front of him.

Ow.

Moving hurt.

Some sound came out of the organic’s mouth, probably a language. He didn’t had the proper tools to decode it but the tone of the language was extremely….comforting ? Soft ?

This was scary.

He wasn’t used to be welcomed like that after a fight.

Usually it was either another fight, either the yelling of a superior, either nothing at all. But this actual living being was carefully examinating his chestplates, and he recognized the gestual of someone who was used to heal. A medic perhaps ?

He tried to move something, maybe a hand, to reach for the pale organic, to be sure he was real, but his body was rather uncooperative, from what he could say, one of his legs was missing, and a lot of wound were releasing energon on the ground he couldn’t saw.

The high probabilities of bleeding out and crash was an issue.

He let his head hang, too tired to watch for every moves of the organic, and barely aware of his environment.

There must be a big problem somewhere….

He confusely thought, while watching the stars.

Must be a bigger injury I haven’t saw……..

Ratchet saw the bright light coming from the alien’s eyes slowly fading, and cold swear ran through his back. Yet, he could still say the soldier was alive, the lights of his body were shining, not a lot, but it was enough. He looked at his first aid kit with disappointment. That wouldn’t be very efficient since the form of life he was trying to preserve wasn’t a tiny human. The nearest thing he could compare the Mech to was….well their own mechs, or eventually….Quintesson. An horrible mess of organic and technology. It was partially thanks to their weird constitution that Ratchet had been able to make sense with the ‘he is alive’ thought.

At this moment and with this material, he couldn’t help the kid, and didn’t possess enough knowledge to tell if he was even dying or not.

He had already an idea of what to do….to fix him, at least trying to, but it involved several objects he hadn’t right now. Leaving to search for these so called objects was risking to let an injured alone, he couldn’t take that risk. He was trapped with the mech, and had to hurry and find something. He stood and reached for more adapted material in his car, trying to find something…. Anything.

Surprisingly, the most useful artifact he came across was his electric screwdriver and a bunch of screw along with a long metallic cabke. A parallel between human stitch, with sewing threads and the material he had with him right now. He could manage something between human fixing and mech repairing, that was what the ‘bio’ in bioengineer stood for.

The kid would be ok. He would live and tell Ratchet why he fell from the sky, and maybe if he saw his friend Jazz….out there…….

.

.

—————————————————

:)) @keferon

(I swear I’m not insane, your AU is just kinda giving me infinite drawing stamina lmao)

[swiftdove]

bleeding crimson

pairing: rio vidal x agatha harkness x fem!reader

summary: no matter how much you try to run from the truth, the road leads you back onto the path, forcing you to confront the thorns from your past.

content: angst, tension, knife-play, dark actions, slight smut

a/n: this is my first time ever writing a part 2 i feel like this is a very monumental moment for me

part 2 to collateral damage

Later that night, you had found yourself leaning against the trunk of the tree, willing yourself to sleep. Yet, despite your best efforts, the earlier conversations seeped into your mind, forcing out any rational thought. 

It wasn't right, how easily they managed to pull you back under their spell. They knew exactly which buttons to push to get what they wanted, whilst your skills had rusted over time. The way they treated you; it was as though they'd never left. It was almost comical, how little they'd suffered over their abandonment of you, how they expected everything to be the same as it was. You knew they were wicked, downright evil, but you hadn't expected them to be this selfish. Your sympathy for them was fading, as was your will to fight against their seductive charm. There must've been something grievously wrong about you to have even looked their way. Perhaps it was the mutual damage, the way you all understood each other so perfectly. Perhaps it was that that let you excuse their past actions. The idea that maybe, just maybe, you could fix them.

You had snapped right out of that attitude when you had seen Agatha act so apathetically about Sharon's death. It may have been the one thing that could have finally let you move past her. But earlier today, when she had tried so desperately to save Teen, redeemed her. You hated that about her - the way she flickered from evil to morally gray. 

And Rio, who balanced out Agatha's wickedness. You felt it, how her eyes always lingered on you. But never for longer than she did with Agatha. 

The reasons against them were stacked, and yet there was still that one part of you that wondered about what a reconciled relationship with them would entail. Most likely more damage to your already fragile mind. Then again, you'd always found that pain turned you on.

The sound of footsteps jolted you out of your train of thought, immediately waking you up from your half-asleep state. 

"Who's there?" you called, failing to mask the fear in your voice.

"Your worst nightmare," a demonic voice resounded, which you instantly recognized to be one of Rio's attempts to humour you.

The witch came into sight, accompanied by the last person you wanted to see right now.

Despite your pronounced hate for them, you couldn't deny that they looked perfect - especially under the glow of the moonlight. 

"What are you doing here?" you murmured, smoothing out a wrinkle in your blouse. 

"Couldn't sleep," Rio replied truthfully, eyeing you up and down. Her gaze finally rested on your hands, where you were nervously playing with your index ring, a habit you'd picked up years ago when she'd first bought it for you. 

However, your attention was directed at Agatha, who had adopted a villainous smirk. Something had changed in her tonight; behind her icy blue eyes hid macabre intentions. It was almost comedic how you still felt like you knew every serrated, damaged inch of her soul. Old habits died hard, you supposed.

"What is it, Agatha?" you asked, failing to hide the tremble in your voice. 

"Oh, nothing," she replied, her tone lilted, "it's just ironic, I suppose. All that 'I'm not yours' bullshit and defiant attitude..."

You tensed as she neared you, noticing the way her eyes glinted at your recoiled stance. In a split second, her fingers wrapped around your throat, trapping you in a chokehold.

"... when we both know why you came."

Her grip tightened, her veins becoming more defined as your breathing shallowed.

"Agatha," Rio admonished, prompting her to relax her grip. 

A soft cackle rang through the air as Agatha stroked your cheek with her free hand, reveling in the way you trembled under her touch.

Flashbacks of the life you'd had with them echoed in your mind, memories of your past encounters hammering at the walls of your skull. It was always the same. Agatha, skillfully inflicting the sweetest torture imaginable on your body, whilst Rio sat back and watched. The mocking, saccharine tone Agatha adopted whilst Rio carved their names into your flesh. The way they forced you past your limits, the long, euphoric nights. 

"So helpless," she jested, dragging out her words. "Now, where have I seen that before?"

Your reply was barely audible, interrupted by a hitch in your breath. "Stop."

Ignoring your plea for mercy, she pulled up your sleeve, releasing her grip on your throat. The faint outline of the words 'RIO' and 'AGATHA' were only just visible, having faded after decades of neglect. Agatha swiveled around, jerking your arm out for Rio to see.

"Would you look at that?" Rio marveled. She tutted softly, before brandishing her dagger. A sadistic smile tugged at her lips as she held it to your throat. You flinched away from the cold metal, beads of red decorating the blade. Your attempts to run away from the dagger were foiled when she swiveled you around and secured you waist with her free hand, the other keeping you in place.

"You were so jealous of Rio earlier, weren't you, pet?" Agatha taunted, relishing in the way your eyes narrowed at the use of her pet name. "You wanted me to leave a scar, didn't you?"

If you hadn't had a blade pressed against your throat, you would have called her out for twisting your words. But, in this instance, you couldn't help but shrink back from their towering presences.

Snorting at your silence, she continued with her onslaught of cruel jokes. "Why so silent? Cat got your tongue?"

"There's a blade to my throat, if you haven't noticed," you snapped, causing Rio to add pressure to your skin.

"There's that nasty attitude again," Agatha proclaimed gleefully, circling around you. "How long has it been since you've been properly punished, sweets?"

You recoiled at her use of the word 'punished', your gaze steeling. "Stop," you murmured, failing to mask the quiver in your voice. "I'm not going to indulge in your sick revenge fantasy."

"Aren't you?"

Rio's voice cut through the tension in the air like a knife through butter, her fingernails digging into the side of your waist. Agatha smirked maliciously, tilting your chin up with her calloused fingers. 

"I don't think you have much of a choice, pet."

Satisfied with your silence as a response, she trailed her fingers down to your blouse, roughly unbuttoning it. She pinched at the peak of your breast, relishing in how it hardened at her touch.

"So sensitive," Agatha murmured, twisting it sharply. A small yelp escaped your lips, reprimanded by a sharp cut to the throat. Hot blood trickled down the wound, staining the witch's fingers.

"Agatha -" you gasped, only to be cut off by the sound of Lilia's voice echoing down The Road.

"They're coming. We have to go."

Glancing at the direction of the voice, Agatha withdrew her hand, causing you to sigh in relief. The sound didn't go unnoticed by the witches. Visibly annoyed, Agatha grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at her.

"This isn't over," she threatened, before dramatically whisking her cape and walking away. Rio followed, but not before dragging her dagger over your throat again. When you didn't budge, she looked over her shoulder, glancing at you expectantly.

"Come on," she said, taking ahold of your arm. "We have to go."

As you trailed behind the witches, the warm, crimson blood trickled down the small wound in your throat, bleeding into the collar of your shirt. To anybody else, it would've just seemed like a simple cut, but you knew what it truly was. A symbol, of their claim over you. Hard, cold proof that no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't escape their hold over you. And for some strange, demented reason, you found comfort in knowing that. 

The dynamic between you and them remained ever the same. Agatha and Rio, your sacred protectors, and you, a wolf in the clothing of a sacrificial lamb. And despite your pathetic attempts to hide it, you knew that they understood exactly who you were to the very marrow of your bones. 

That was what scared you about them.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Glimmering Shadows | Azriel x Reader

Summary: While visiting Spring Court on political business with Rhys, Azriel meets you, a Faerie with little glimmering sparks that help you in the same way his shadows help him, and he decides that visiting you a few more times afterwards couldn’t hurt.

Word Count: ~ 1.8k

Warnings: None!

A/N: This was so cute to write, hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

Masterlist | Next

It had been an ordinary visit to Spring Court, Rhysand arriving with only Azriel flanking his right side. Cassian was off in Windhaven, probably about to bite Devlon’s head off, per usual.

Spring Court had shaped up since Tamlin had gotten himself together. The Court was working better now, still recovering from the war like many were, but after a few changes and adjustments to the system and ruling, the citizens seemed happier, the land and economy thriving, and most of the houses were put back together from the previous damage. Azriel’s shadows surveyed the area around them while Rhys walked to Tamlin’s manor, it also being freshly restored it seemed.

They entered, a slightly tense welcoming from the Fae at the door, before walking in, only to meet Tamlin, seeming unhappy as ever to see the High Lord of Night, gesture them to follow and led them into his office. The house was made primarily of wood and vines, with delicate colored windows that, when the sun hit them, portrayed wonderful patterns of flowers and vines shining onto the floor.

The office had a few windows open that were quickly shut by vines, those of which moved on their own, it seemed. The desk was made of what looked to be expensive wood in a deep chestnut color, bookshelves coating the wall to the left, a large map of Prythian on the right, and underneath it a map of Spring Court in personal detail. Tamlin was freshly shaven, his blond hair silky and shimmering as it flowed down, his green eyes clear, clothes ironed and expensive as any other ruler’s.

Try as he might, the son of Spring could never acquire the same casual power as Rhysand. Azriel knew that for sure.

That was when he felt it. A small feeling of something flickering, and going out, before a shadow slithered back up to him, seeming agitated. Tamlin noticed, eyes narrowing.

“I’d rather our discussion stay private.”

His voice, carefully neutral to Rhys, said. A pair of violet eyes glanced back at the shadowsinger, before Rhys gave a casual shrug, and Azriel, knowing what that meant, promptly left the room and began wandering the manor. He felt it again. More flickering, then the shadows returned to him despite his repeated attempts to make them go back out. They were agitated, but wouldn’t tell him what was wrong, it made him wonder what it could be.

Nothing around the manor seemed to be causing it, though the bugs that made his skin itch were annoying. He huffed, exiting the manor, only for his mind to promptly be told something.

‘Don’t go too far. Wouldn’t want Tamlin thinking you’re spying on his precious bug-infested land.’

The smug voice of his High Lord rang out in his mind, before retreating as quickly as it had come. A few of the servants, mostly lesser Fae, glanced at him as he passed. Some with wonder, some with fear. However, the closer he got to the area where all his shadows that had been had gone out, he found one female who only looked at him with amused curiosity.

It was a bit far into the woods, trees in hues of deep amethyst purple and a light shimmering pink hanging down like a curtain, he pushed them aside, met with an area with long grass and blooming flowers, and you, the female sitting on the somehow-not-rotting fallen tree that was hollowed out, holding the tiniest little bunny he’d ever seen.

As soon as he’d caught sight of you, the bunny had hopped off, his attention now directly on you. There were tiny little sparks around you, but when he looked closer it seemed more like globs of see-through glitter, like a toddler’s art project come to life through the shimmering pieces of what he could’ve imagined as pixie dust surrounding you. Not to mention the wings, nothing like his own, yours being thin and delicate, shaped like a butterfly’s, with a rich hue of translucent colors. A rare species of Spring Court faeries had such wings, most choosing to hide them from sight, as you promptly did when seeing him, the delicate appendages slowly fading from view.

He’d been staring.

“Who are you?”

He asked with a mild frown, you raised a brow, an amused smile on your face. The gesture sent an odd aching feeling in his chest flaring up that he tried to shove down.

“I’m guessing you’re the one who’s been sending all those shadows?”

You asked, completely ignoring his question. He sighed through his nose.

“You’re the one that's been putting them out?”

He asked with a knowing tone, shadows darting out from him to meet your little tiny pixie pieces, both warring against each other as they intertwined, some shadows sending the glittery things back to you, some of your sparks sending his dark, shadowy creatures back to him. It was almost as if they were playing.

“That would be me, yes. What’s your name, … shadowy figure?”

You asked, and he then realized that he was cloaked in the shadows that had returned to him, making him look like a splotchy black figure in this Court’s bright light. No wonder the servants had been giving him weird looks.

“Azriel. And yours, pixie-dust?”

You giggled a bit at the name, finding it amusing. He found it odd how much he liked hearing and making you laugh.

“Y/N. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Azriel.”

You said with a small smile, offering a hand to shake in greeting. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had offered him a hand besides maybe Elain, and even she’d been scared of him at first. He took your hand, suddenly feeling self-conscious about the scarring that coated his calloused hands, compared to your soft, gentle ones.

“A..pleasure to meet you as well.”

He replied, cautiously watching you, the way you held yourself. A hint of recognition entered your gaze as you examined him further.

“Oh! You’re that Spymaster, aren’t you? Night Court?”

You then asked, and he internally cringed at the fact that the only reason you knew him was because of his occupation that involved slaughtering and torturing people, not to mention spying.

“Yes..”

Before he could even finish his sentence, you continued talking. You were very talkative and friendly. It was almost overwhelming, but he found that he liked it, surprisingly.

“That’s what those shadows are for, like little spies, I’m guessing? My little pixies work the same way, they just run around and help me with things, it’s honestly —“

He stood there, listening to you talk before he was pulled to sit down by his shadows next to you on the log. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, listening to you rattle on and on first about your nieces then your one nephew who would always sneak out of his crib, or your mom who still treated you like you were a little girl despite you being at least a few centuries old….

‘Someone’s lovesick~’

A certain High Lord’s voice in his head called out, and though Azriel wanted to deny it, he knew better.

He was an absolute goner.

*********************************************************

He’d been looking for any excuse to see you, honestly. Even lying straight to Cassian’s face about why he’d missed training. The truth? He’d been flying to Spring Court, visiting you.

It had become a real problem, honestly, how distracted he was because of you. Even on missions he couldn’t stop thinking of your smile, how he loved listening to you speak about things you loved, like the flowers and flora of your homeland, or the way you’d showed him your delicate little wings after his first few times visiting you. A few months passed, and his little crush hadn’t gone yet, in fact, it had blossomed into something much more than a crush, and the others were starting to notice.

“What’s got you so distracted lately, Az?”

Cassian’s confused but intrigued voice rang out from in front of him where they sparred, iron clanging against iron, bodies moving in a dance of death they’d practiced too many times before.

“Nothing.”

He said simply, shaking his head. Cassian only laughed, a sound that only reminded him of you, and your —

And then he was on the floor, Cassian’s sword at his throat as he grinned triumphantly.

“What’s her name?”

His annoying brother asked in a teasing and knowing tone, Azriel only huffed, getting back up and dusting his leathers off.

It wasn’t anything serious, he told himself.

Even when he found himself flying hundreds of miles to go see you again that very same night, he found you on the windowsill of your house, watching the sky with a sleepy smile. He landed silently, walking closer to you and stepping on a twig on purpose, so he wouldn’t frighten you. Your gaze snapped over to him, and you beamed, getting off of your windowsill in a smooth motion to pull him into a warm hug, a gesture he always melted into.

“Do your wings not get sore from all that flying?”

You asked him, separating only enough to look at him. He smiled, barely, but any sort of smile from him was enough to make you happy.

“It’s worth it, for you.”

He replied before his lips curled into a more genuine grin.

“Though maybe you should come visit sometime.”

He suggested, tone joking but also with a hint of actual meaning. He’d talked about his home, Night Court, to you before, and tried getting you to come visit it or even just let him fly you over it, but you’d always denied it.

“What would I tell my family? They wouldn’t support me with you, and-“

That was when it happened, when your eyes met, his pleading, yours empathetic, when it snapped right into place. Everything was warm despite the cold chill of the night, and the breeze as it blew past. Both of your eyes widened, the only sounds being that of the leaves rustling for a few moments, but you both knew what had happened.

Before you could get a word out, his lips were against yours, yours against his, both savoring the feeling of finally crossing that final bridge and letting each other feel. Your little pixies danced with his shadows that night, in harmony for one moment, despite being the opposite of each other.

When you finally separated, he smiled, full this time of warmth and happiness.

“Does this mean you can come visit now?”

He asked, and you only laughed despite the tears in your eyes, and the ones in his, and pulled him closer into another kiss.

He’d be lucky if you ever weren’t visiting now.

Tags:

@hqmsby

Part 2

[nhaaauyen]

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨ The Ghost of You ୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

"This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong // To love that well which thou must leave ere long." -William Shakespeare (Sonnet 73)

PART V: ‘CAUSE I CAN’T TAKE THIS PAIN FOREVER

zombie apocalypse sevika x reader au!: sevika was the super soldier; a killing machine driven solely by survival. you were nomadic, constantly searching for something in whatever was left of the world—till you met her.

series masterpost: part I // part II // part III // part IV

wc: 8.3k cw: smut (MINORS DNI!!!) author's note: thank you to everyone who read/comments + i see your tags on the reposts you guys make me gay and sappy with all your support tysm 💗 (also im so sorry if the smut is so mid I’m not a smut writer and it’s my second time writing smut ever smhhh)

Fifteen died. Including Grayson. 

Daylight is spent in a daze of cleaning up, tending to the wounded, and trying to process the magnitude of what's happened. People are trying to piece together what little they can salvage, but the damage is more than just physical.

As night falls, the community gathers for a final farewell. The loss is too great, too much to be exposed under the harsh light of day. The night offers a semblance of protection, a cloak under which everyone can mourn and where grief can be private.

Candles flicker in the hands of those gathered and the atmosphere is thick with sorrow. Families huddle together, some on their knees beside makeshift crosses, others standing in silent clusters. The candles illuminate their tears, turning them into tiny rivers of gold that glisten in the darkness.

You stand by Grayson’s cross, surrounded by those who knew and loved her. Vander, his broad shoulders tense and Ekko clutches his candle so tightly that the wax has begun to drip onto his fingers. Powder leans into Vi, who wraps a protective arm around her sister. Caitlyn stands close, her face a mask of composed grief, but her eyes are red-rimmed and distant. Ren holds onto your hand tightly, her small fingers interlaced with yours.

Your gaze keeps drifting to the shadows, searching for one face in particular.  

Then, as if conjured by your thoughts, you spot her. She’s standing under a tree, half-hidden in the shadows. The candlelight doesn’t reach her, leaving her face partially obscured, but you can tell it’s her.  She's motionless, almost statuesque, her expression unreadable.

There’s something in the way she’s watching the scene before her that sends a shiver down your spine. It’s almost as if she’s already a ghost herself, a spirit haunting the edge of the gathering. There’s an emptiness to her, as if the life has been drained out of her and what remains is only a shell, a figure standing over a world she no longer belongs to.

A heaviness resides in your chest, a deep, aching sadness that mirrors the grief of those around you. Grayson’s loss is a wound that cuts deep. She was the heart of this community, the one who held everyone together. And now she’s gone, leaving behind a legacy that feels too big, too important to carry on without her.

The vigil continues, but you feel a shift in the air, a quiet, unspoken understanding that it’s time to go, that there’s nothing more to be done here tonight. Slowly, people begin to leave, one by one, their footsteps soft on the grass. You hesitate, your gaze lingering on Sevika one last time. She hasn’t moved, hasn’t acknowledged your presence or anyone else’s.  

As your family and Ren head to a neighbor’s house, seeking comfort in numbers, you seek solace in solitude instead. 

The silence is almost deafening in your room. You close the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment as you let out a shaky breath. 

There’s a soft knock at the door, and for a moment, you think you might be imagining it. But then it comes again, and you push yourself away from the door, your heart pounding in your chest as you reach for the handle.

When you open the door, Sevika is standing there, but she’s not the woman you remember. There’s a hollow look in her eyes, a deep exhaustion etched into every line of her face. She’s hunched over slightly as if the weight of everything has finally broken through her defenses.

For a moment, you just stare at each other, neither of you knowing what to say. 

"What's going on?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Without a word, she steps into the room, her movements slow and almost hesitant.

"Sevika..." you start, but the words die in your throat as she looks at you. Her eyes, usually so guarded, are now pools of raw emotion.

"I could have lost you yesterday," she says, her voice cracking. "I almost did."

You step back and fall onto the edge of your bed, overwhelmed by the intensity of her gaze, the weight of her words.  

Sevika falls to her knees before you, burying her face in your lap. Her body shakes, hands clutching desperately at your clothes. The sight of her kneeling before you sends a shockwave through your system. This is Sevika, the woman who’s always stood tall, who’s never shown weakness. 

“Please…” The word escapes her lips in a raw, broken whisper, her voice laced with a desperation you’ve never heard from her before. “Please… I can’t take this pain forever.”

Your hands hover uncertainly over her. She’s seeking you, but you find yourself instinctively pushing back, your fingers gripping her shoulders to keep some distance between you.  The urge to comfort her wars with the part of you that’s terrified—terrified that if you let her in again, she’ll leave, and you’ll be left with nothing but this overwhelming pain.  

Why now? your eyes ask, the ache in your chest tightening. Why now, when I don’t even know if I can trust you not to leave again?

Sevika looks up, her eyes red-rimmed and filled with vulnerability. She reaches for you, but you flinch away, your body betraying your inner turmoil. I won’t, her eyes seem to respond. her hands clinging to you as if you’re the only thing keeping her from falling apart completely.

The push and pull become physical - Sevika's hands grasping at your clothes, trying to draw you in, while you resist, your grip on her arms keeping her at bay. You see the realization dawn in Sevika's eyes as she understands your hesitation. She doesn't speak, doesn't try to persuade you with words. Instead, she simply holds your gaze, her hands loosening their grip but not letting go entirely.

The tension between you is palpable, a living thing that fills the space between your bodies. You can feel it gnawing at you - the fear that she’ll pull away, that this moment will shatter like glass. 

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Sevika's resistance fades. She doesn't try to pull you closer anymore, but she doesn't move away either. She simply kneels there, her head bowed, waiting.

It's this surrender that finally breaks through your defenses. Your hands, which were pushing her away, now tremble as they cup her face. You tilt her chin up, meeting her gaze fully for the first time.

What you see there takes your breath away - it’s a steadfast devotion that silences your doubts. At that moment, you understand that she's not going anywhere.

Your hands finally move, your fingers threading through her hair and letting it fall from its ponytail. The moment you touch her, she lets out a shuddering breath, her body sagging against you as if the weight she’s been carrying has finally become too much.

Sevika sees the hesitation in your gaze, the lingering fear, and something shifts inside her. She surges up, pulling you into a desperate kiss—a plea for you to trust her.  The kiss is messy, frantic, filled with the need to feel, to connect, to hold onto something real amidst all this.

You respond immediately, your hands drawing her near—even though parts of you want to stop and shield yourself from the possibility of losing her again, you can’t bring yourself to let go.

Her lips are pressing against yours with a need that makes your heart ache, and you both finally give in to the emotions you’ve been holding back for so long. It’s not like the kiss you’ve shared before—this is different. It’s a commitment to each other that you’ve both been too scared to acknowledge until now.

You both fall back onto the bed, your bodies tangling together as you lose yourselves in each other. 

Your hands are never leaving her, your lips never straying too far from hers. Her bionic hand presses into your back gently, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you and you can feel the steady beat of her heart against your chest.

She suddenly pulls you onto her lap. One hand slides under your shirt, causing a shiver to run down your spine, while the other lingers on the small of your back. With a swift movement, she removes your shirt, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable under the moonlight cascading through the window.

A blush creeps up your cheeks at the sudden exposure. 

"You're beautiful." The moonlight dances in her eyes and her voice is filled with sincerity and adoration. 

Your breath hitches as she leans in and presses a kiss onto your chest, her lips travel lower and lower until she forces a nipple out of your bra.  Your gasp quickly turns into a moan as her lips wrap around it and her tongue is swirling, her teeth teasing and biting at the sensitive bud.  

Your hands find their way into her hair and shoulders, grasping at something to stabilize a desire that feels like it could push you over the edge.  As her lips dance across your neck, her tongue tracing the curve of your jaw, you feel your hips surge forward, seeking the friction that will bring you relief. Your hands, still fisted in her clothes, tug her closer, the fabric straining against the pressure. Sevika's fingers, still tangled in your hair, pull your head back further, exposing your throat to her hungry mouth. Her breath is hot against your skin, sending shivers coursing through your veins.  You grind into her fingers, a low, desperate moan builds in your throat, and you hear yourself repeating her name like a mantra.

"Sevika, Sevika, Sevika please."

Your legs tremble as you press into her, the thin fabric of your panties rubbing against her fingers, which are still wrapped around you. The pressure builds, a crescendo of need threatening to consume you whole. 

She teases you, her fingers occasionally dipping inside you before pulling back out to rub against your sensitive nub. Each time you’re on the brink of release, she stops and kisses you deeply, driving you crazy with need.

But finally, when you can’t take it any longer, she plunges two fingers inside you. Your fingers dig deep into her shoulder as she sets a steady pace with her fingers, hitting just the right spot inside you that has you writhing in ecstasy.

You’re panting at her touch, your hips bucking into her hand as she moves her fingers in and out of you, her thumb rubbing circles over your clit. Each touch sends jolts of pleasure through your body, making you crave more and more.  She whispers sweet words in your ear along with wicked promises that make you wetter than you could imagine.

You grasp the edge of Sevika's shawl, the delicate fabric slipping through your fingers as you slowly pull it away, exposing her bionic arm to you. The shimmering metal catches the dim light of the room, contrasting beautifully with your warm hands. You can’t help but admire the way it seems to glow, each curve and joint blending seamlessly into her skin. 

Sevika’s breath hitches at the sight of her exposed arm, and a flicker of vulnerability passes over her face. The vulnerability in her eyes makes you want to show her how incredible she is, and how every part of her makes you feel alive.  

You lean closer, your lips brushing softly against her bionic arm, feeling the coolness against your mouth as you press gentle kisses along the sleek surface. It’s smooth, almost soothing, and you feel her relax into your touch. Your breath quickens, merging anticipation and a hunger to worship every part of her. 

She changes your positions, laying you down gently on your bed till your head sinks into a plush pillow.  You can feel the heat radiating off of her body as she begins to kiss down your body. Her lips leave a trail of fire as they make their way down your stomach until they reach the waistband of your panties. She easily removes them and throws them aside.  She starts by lightly kissing and licking your inner thighs, slowly making her way towards your center. You can already feel the heat pooling between your legs as she gets closer and closer to where you want her most. Her gaze locks onto yours as her head hovers over your soaked folds.

“Just focus on me,” her voice comes out hoarse and commanding.

Sevika buries her face between your legs and you gasp at the sudden sensation, gripping the sheets tightly. She flicks and sucks on your clit while slipping a finger inside of you, matching the rhythm of her tongue. There’s a sense of urgency in the way she looks at you – a primal need that mirrors yours perfectly. 

Her fingers dig into your thighs, holding you down firmly.  You feel yourself getting close, but before you can reach your peak, she stops abruptly.

You whimper in frustration, but it’s quickly replaced with adoration as she climbs up to kiss you, tasting yourself on her lips.  

“You got such a pretty body,” She bites teasingly at your ear. “Prettier when it’s a mess for me.” 

A course of desire jolts through you at hearing her low and raspy voice whisper those words. Your fingers trace the curve of her shoulder, moving down her arm until you reach her hand. You intertwine your fingers with hers, feeling the coolness of her bionic hand.  Sevika blows a hot breath over your glistening mound and you instinctively close your legs around her head. 

The room immediately fills with the sound of heavy breathing and the soft, wet noises of skin against skin. Her finger curls inside you, causing your back to arch off the bed in pleasure. 

With each thrust and lap of her tongue, she pushes you closer to the edge. You can feel the tension coiling within you—she intensifies her rhythm, sucking and teasing in perfect harmony with your body's responses. The sensations build higher and higher until they finally explode within you.

You release with a loud cry, shuddering in ecstasy as the waves of pleasure wash over you, leaving you breathless and utterly consumed in bliss.

When you finally break apart, it’s only to catch your breath. Your bodies are still tangled together, a sticky, wet mess, but neither of you cares. Sevika holds you tightly, her face buried in the crook of your neck.

The room is bathed in soft, silvery moonlight filtering in through the window. The sounds of your soft breathing fill the space, mingling with the faint rustle of the sheets. Everything feels tender, and fragile, like you’re both holding on to something delicate and precious, something that could shatter with the slightest misstep.

Your fingers trace the scar on Sevika’s cheek, the roughened skin contrasting the softness of her lips. She looks at you, her eyes searching yours as if she’s trying to read the thoughts that you’re too scared to say aloud.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you murmur, your voice trembling with emotion.

“You won’t,” she whispers back, her lips brushing against yours in the softest of kisses. 

“Promise me..” Your voice falters, struggling to grasp the idea of not being able to feel her, see her, or touch her like this again.  “I don’t know how to exist without you.”

“I’d spend the rest of my days searching,” Sevika replies quietly, her gaze unwavering.  “Even just for the chance of seeing you again.” 

She cups your face with one hand, her thumb brushing gently over your cheek.  “I’ll always find my way back to you.”

You rest your head on her chest, listening to the steady rhythm of her heart, the sound soothing in a way you hadn’t realized you needed. Your fingers trace gentle patterns on her skin and a quiet peace settles over you, a sense of calm that you haven’t felt in what seems like forever.

As you lie there, holding each other in the darkness, the world outside seems to fade into insignificance. You close your eyes, letting yourself finally rest, knowing that she’s here with you, that you’re both in this together. It’s a fragile peace, but it’s yours, and in this moment, it’s more than enough.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

One Year Later…

The kitchen glows in the warm light, sunlight streaming through the window and illuminating the marble countertops. The sweet aroma of cinnamon and vanilla fills the air as you stir a pot of rice pudding on the stove.

Ren bursts into the kitchen, twirling in her new outfit - a pretty blue dress with matching ribbons in her hair. "Look!" she exclaims, eyes shining with excitement.

You smile warmly. "You look beautiful, honey. Are you ready for dinner at Vander's?"

Ren nods enthusiastically. "Can I go over early? Please?"

"Of course," you reply, giving her a quick hug. "I'll see you there in a bit."

You watch her go, a fond smile lingering on your lips. Ren has become such a central part of your life, switching between living with you and Sevika, and some nights, staying over at Vander’s with the rest of your family. Dinners at Vander’s have also become a tradition, starting as a semblance of normality for the kids until you realize that sometimes everyone just needed a family meal too.

You turn back to your work, carefully measuring out the sugar to add to the pudding. You’re so focused on getting everything just right that you don’t notice when Sevika slips into the kitchen. She moves quietly, her steps almost soundless as she approaches the stove. It’s only when you glance up and see her broad back that you realize she’s there, her figure blocking the light from the window.

"Hey, you're home," you start to say, but then you spot the spoon in her mouth. "Sev!" you exclaim. "I'm not done with that!"

Sevika turns, the spoon still between her lips. "Tastes good," she mumbles around it, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“It’s supposed to taste good when it’s finished,” you retort, gently pushing her away from the stove. 

Suddenly, you feel Sevika's arms encircle your waist, her body warm against your back. She nuzzles into your neck, placing a soft kiss just below your ear. "Mmm," she hums, "doesn’t taste as good as you, though."

“Don’t think you can sweet-talk me into letting you try more,” you say, trying to stay focused despite the distraction she’s providing.

She chuckles again, her deep voice rumbling against your back. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

You smile, the familiar banter easing you into a comfortable lull. The gentle pressure of her arms around you, the way she’s so casually affectionate now, fills you with warmth. 

"Hey, did you bring home any fruit for the pudding?" you ask, turning in Sevika's arms.

You feel her tense slightly, her smile faltering.  "We’re having a bit of a dry season," she says, her tone careful.

The words hang heavy in the air. You know the reality - supplies have been tight lately, with produce struggling to grow and the scavenging teams venturing further each time.

Before you can dwell on it further, Sevika leans in to kiss you, clearly trying to change the subject. But as she does, you catch a whiff of something less than pleasant, and you instinctively pull back, wrinkling your nose.

"Babe, you fucking stink," you blurt out.

Sevika's eyes goes wide in shock, then narrows playfully. "Oh, really?" she growls, trying to pull you closer.

You dance out of her grasp.“Go start a bath,” you say between giggles. “I’ll join you in a bit, okay?”

She lets out a noise of disapproval but obeys regardless. “I wasn’t that bad,” she mutters as she turns toward the bathroom.

“Yes, you were,” you call after her, still grinning as you watch her go. “Go on, I’ll be there soon.”

With Sevika finally convinced, you head to your bedroom to grab some towels.

The bedroom has changed over the past year, becoming more of a shared space than it ever was before. Sevika's red shawl drapes over the back of a chair, while your jewelry glitters on the dresser. The wall above the bed is adorned with colorful drawings - Ren's artwork, depicting your entire makeshift family, the sight of it never failing to warm your heart.

It had started casually enough - a few items of clothing left behind after hurried encounters, a toothbrush appearing in the bathroom. You and Sevika were sneaking around, stealing moments together whenever you could.

When you finally told your family about your relationship, they celebrated, of course.   It wasn’t a surprise to them—they had seen the way you and Sevika gravitated toward each other, the looks you reserved solely for one another.  You found yourself practically living at Sevika's, though neither of you had officially acknowledged the change.

Then came the day you noticed the difference in her dresser. The already sparse drawers had been reorganized, creating a dedicated space just for you. Your scattered belongings were neatly arranged, claiming their place in Sevika's life.

You remember standing there, staring at that drawer, your heart swelling with emotion. It was such a small gesture, but it spoke volumes. Sevika, always more comfortable with actions than words, had found her way of saying "stay".

A small smile forms on your lips at the memory as you close the closet.  Gathering the towels, you head towards the sound of running water.

You settle onto the stool beside the bathtub, watching Sevika relax in the warm, soapy water. Her broad shoulders peek out from the bubbles, her head tilted back slightly as she rests, eyes half-closed in contentment. The sight of her—this tough, unbreakable woman— soaking in the bath like she has nowhere else to be, makes you giggle.

"You look adorable."

Sevika cracks one eye open, giving you a playful glare that’s nowhere near as intimidating as she probably hopes it’ll be. "I’m not adorable," she grumbles.

You reach for a washcloth, gently running it over her back. Your fingers work out the knots in her muscles, and you feel her relax under your touch. The bathroom is quiet except for the soft lapping of water and Sevika's contented sighs.

"Don't get me wet, Sev," you warn as she shifts in the tub.

“I thought I always did,” she shoots back with a sly grin, and before you can react, she splashes a handful of water at you.

The warm water hits you square in the chest, soaking your shirt. You let out a small gasp, and Sevika just laughs, clearly pleased with herself.  

“Now I’ve got no choice but to join you, huh?” you say, feigning annoyance as you peel off your damp clothes.

Sevika's arms wrap around you as you settle between her legs, your back pressed against her chest. "No funny business," you remind her. "We've got dinner later."

She groans, burying her face in your neck. "Do we have to do that?"

You intertwine your fingers with hers, squeezing gently. "Yes, we all need it. Even you, Miss Grumpy."

Sevika huffs, but doesn't argue further. It's rare to see her act so petulant, and you can't help but find it endearing. You lean back further into her embrace, savoring the warmth of her skin against yours.

A chuckle escapes you as a memory surfaces.

"What's so funny?" Sevika murmurs against your ear.

"I'm thinking about us," you reply, still grinning. "Remember the first time you came to family dinner?"

Sevika groans again, this time in embarrassment. That first dinner had been spectacularly awkward. Sevika, sitting at Vander’s table, towering over everyone, her presence so imposing that no one knew how to break the ice. You could feel the discomfort radiating from the others as they tried and failed to strike up conversation. Sevika, never much of a talker herself, hadn’t made it any easier. 

"I thought Caitlyn was going to have an aneurysm trying to make conversation," you laugh.

"She kept asking about the weather," Sevika recalls. "As if we don't all live in the same damn place."

“But my family loves you now.”

Sevika raises an eyebrow. “They’re still nervous around me though.”

“True,” you admit, chuckling. “But now they know you’re not going to kill them if they say the wrong thing. Well, most of them know that, anyway.”

”I like to keep them on their toes.” Sevika smirks, her lips brushing against your neck. “Can’t let them forget who I am.”

You turn in her arms, facing her now. "I don’t think they would be as afraid if they saw you in a bubble bath right now."

She narrows her eyes at you. "I’m still scary."

"Is that so?" you challenge, your faces inches apart. 

Instead of answering, Sevika closes the distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss. You sigh into it, brushing a damp strand of hair behind her ear.

You're nestled against Sevika, the warm water lulling you into a peaceful state when a sharp knock shatters the moment. 

"Who the hell..." She's about to call out, likely with some choice words, when a familiar voice filters through the door.

"Sevika? You in there?"

It's Ran. Sevika's expression immediately hardens. 

She gives you an apologetic look as she carefully extracts herself from the tub, wrapping a towel around her body.  You remain in the bath, straining to hear the muffled conversation. Snippets reach your ears—"Silco... needs to see you... scouts..." 

By the time you've dried off and dressed, Sevika is already changed, her face grim. She's heading for the door, and you follow.

Out on the streets, the usual bustle of Zaun seems subdued. Sevika turns to you, her eyes softening slightly.

"It's just a quick meeting," she assures you, though her tone lacks conviction. "I'll be back, okay?"

You look at her, worry evident in your gaze. She must see it because she adds, "Family dinner is still on. I promise."

You watch Sevika disappear down the street, her words echoing in your mind. Despite her assurances, you can't shake the feeling of unease that settles in your chest. Instead of heading home, your feet carry you to a familiar path.

The old target practice area comes into view, untouched since Grayson's passing. The targets are weathered now, the paint faded and peeling. You moved the practice area after... after everything, but this place still holds a piece of history you can’t forget.

You settle onto the worn bench, you could almost hear Grayson's patient voice, the sound of gunfire. Now it's quiet, a ghost of what it used to be.

Lost in thought, you barely notice the approaching footsteps until a shadow falls across you.

"Quite the view from up here, isn't it?"

A man’s voice cuts through your reverie. You look up to see him, his usual sly smile in place. 

"Mind if I join you?"  He doesn't wait for an answer before settling onto the bench beside you.

“What do you want, Finn?” you ask, your guard instantly up.

“Just wanted a place to admire Zaun,” he replies. "It’s getting a bit crowded down there.”

You remain silent, wary of engaging. Instead, you’re both gazing out over Zaun—The community sprawls below, a patchwork of light and shadow.

"You know," Finn begins, his voice casual, "I used to come up here sometimes, watch Grayson train the new recruits. She had a way about her, didn't she? A real vision for what Zaun could be."

You nod, unsure where he's going with this.

Finn continues, his tone thoughtful. "Things have changed a lot since then. More people, less space. Resources getting tighter." He glances at you sideways. "Makes you wonder what Grayson would think of it all."

There's something in his voice that puts you on edge, a subtle challenge. You choose your words carefully. "Grayson always believed in Zaun's potential."

"Ah, but potential for what?" Finn leans in conspiratorially. "It looks like things are starting to fray at the edges. People are getting restless, hungry. And when that happens… well, who knows what might come next?" 

You feel a surge of anger, but you keep it in check, refusing to let him get under your skin. “Zaun’s strong,” you say firmly. “So if you’re trying to stir up trouble, you can take it somewhere else.”

Finn holds up his hands in a placating gesture. "Of course, of course. I'm just thinking about the future, you know? But hey, I'm sure Silco's got it all figured out."

Finn stands, brushing off his pants. "Give my regards to Sevika," he says lightly. 

"Tell her... we're all counting on her to keep us safe."

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

You and Sevika walk side by side through the bustling streets of Zaun, the rice pudding cradled carefully in Sevika’s arms. As you approach the door, you can already hear the sounds of laughter and chatter from inside. Before you can even step over the threshold, a blur of blue barrels into view. 

Just as Powder rounds the corner, she nearly collides with you, her eyes wide as she skids to a halt. “Oops, sorry!” she exclaims, a sheepish grin spreading across her face as she steadies herself. “Sorry, double for last time,” she adds with a knowing look.

It had been a few weeks ago, when Sevika was trying to grow out her hair, a fact she was oddly self-conscious about. You guys were standing in the courtyard, watching as Powder excitedly showed off her new contraption, a slime trap shooter she cobbled together from spare parts. 

The demonstration started off well enough, but suddenly a glob of viscous slime shot out wildly, landing with a wet splat right in Sevika's hair.

Powder's enthusiasm instantly turned into fear as she realized what she's done.The look on Sevika’s face had been priceless—a mix of surprise and horror as she reached up to touch the mess clinging to her hair.

“I’m gonna kill that kid,” Sevika grumbled, her voice low and menacing.  “My hair looks like shit.”

You’d barely managed to suppress your laughter when it first happened, but now in Vander’s bathroom you couldn’t hide your amusement. 

“So, that’s a no on having kids, then?” you joked as you reached for a pair of scissors to help trim the slime-covered strands.

Sevika had turned to look at you, her expression one of shock and something else—something deeper that neither of you had wanted to confront. It was just a small joke, but it carried the weight of a conversation you hadn’t yet had, and might never have. Sometimes,  you couldn’t avoid the fact that this was it for you two.

But you quickly brushed it aside, focusing on the task at hand. As you carefully trimmed the damaged hair, you leaned in close, whispering in Sevika’s ear, “You’re sexy already. No amount of slime will change that.”  

That had earned you a reluctant smile from her in that moment.

"No harm done.”  You tell Powder, inconspicuously kicking Sevika’s feet to agree.

“Yeah.” She grunts, and you hold in a snicker at the obvious grudge she held. 

As you enter the kitchen, you're greeted by the sight of Vander attempting to wrangle a massive pot of stew.  

“There you two are,” Vander says, looking up from his cooking. “Thought you might’ve gotten lost on the way here.”

“Not a chance,” Sevika replies, setting the rice pudding down on the counter with a grin. “This one would never forgive me if I missed dinner.”

“Damn right,” you reply. “You need any help, Vander?”

“Nah, we’re about done here,” Vander says, wiping his hands on a towel. “Just need to get everything into the living room. You know how these animals are when they’re hungry.”

You laugh, grabbing a tray of bread rolls while Sevika grabs a platter of roasted vegetables.  She follows you out into the living room, where the rest of the group is already making themselves comfortable. Ekko is lounging on the floor, watching Powder and Ren as they buzz around him. Caitlyn and Vi are chatting quietly in one corner, Vi’s arm casually draped over the back of Caitlyn’s chair.

“Hey you two,” you greet, setting the tray down on a table near the center of the room. “Food’s here.”

Vi reaches for a roll, and Caitlyn swats her hand. "Wait for everyone, you brute," she says affectionately.

"Come on, cupcake, I'm starving!" Vi whines dramatically.

Soon, everyone settles in various spots around the room, grabbing plates and piling on food. Vander passes around mugs of ale, the rich, amber liquid sloshing slightly as he hands it to the adults. 

Sevika sits down beside you on the floor, her back against the couch, and you hand her a plate, watching as she loads it up with a bit of everything. Powder's regaling everyone with a tale of her latest explosive experiment, complete with dramatic reenactments.

"You guys won't believe what I made today!" She exclaims, barely touching her food as she launches into her story. "So I took some wires from that old TV we found, and I connected them to a car battery. Then I rigged up this pressure plate..."

"And then - BOOM!" she exclaims, throwing her arms wide and nearly knocking over Ekko's plate.

"Watch it, Pow," Ekko grumbles, but there's no real annoyance in his voice.

The two of you eat in comfortable silence for a while, the sounds of laughter and conversation filling the room around you.  As the meal winds down, Powder's eyes light up with a new idea. She bounds over to you and Sevika.

"Hey, hey! You guys wanna play Nerf guns with us?" she asks, her eyes wide and pleading.

Sevika raises an eyebrow. 

"I modified them. They shoot further now, and I added a cool light-up feature, and-"

"Modified?" Sevika interrupts, looking slightly alarmed, she was already thinking about the last mishap with Powder’s “modifications”.

You laugh at the expression on Sevika's face, she couldn’t hide the suspicion and concern written all over it. "Come on, Sev," you nudge. "Could be fun."

Powder's practically bouncing now. "Please? Pretty please? I promise there’s no slime this time!"

Sevika sighs. "Fine." she concedes.

"Yes!" Powder cheers. "You won't regret it!"

Powder herds you, Sevika, Ekko, and Ren onto the couch, squishing you all together as she stands before you, eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Alright, listen up!” Powder announces, pulling out a set of nerf guns. The colorful plastic weapons are covered in stickers and doodles, clearly customized to her liking. She hands one to each of you.

Sevika takes hers with a skeptical look, turning it over in her hands. “You can’t shoot shit with this,” she mutters, the derision clear in her voice.

“Oh, yeah?” Powder smirks, clearly prepared for this. She whirls around, aims at a water bottle perched on the windowsill, and fires. The nerf dart flies across the room and smacks the bottle dead center, sending it tumbling to the floor with a satisfying thud.

Sevika raises an eyebrow, impressed despite herself. 

“Now that we’ve established these aren’t toys for babies,” Powder continues, pacing in front of the couch. “here’s the game: upstairs, there’s a crown stashed somewhere by Vi.  The goal is to retrieve the crown and bring it to Vander downstairs. Upstairs is a no-shoot zone, but downstairs, if you’re hit with a dart, you’re out.”

She claps her hands together, clearly relishing her role as the game master. "Now, we need to split into teams," Powder continues. "Sevika and Ekko, you're one team. And-"

You all glance at Ren, the youngest of the group at just eight years old. There's a moment of awkward silence as everyone tries to figure out how to handle this diplomatically.

"You should take her," you say sweetly. 

Sevika’s eyes narrow playfully, already sensing where this is going. “The kid likes you more."  Despite being dubious of the game at first, you could tell Sevika’s competitiveness was taking over.

“I thought this was just a kids’ game?” you tease, leaning in slightly with a raised eyebrow.

Sevika gives you a sheepish look, clearly caught between her competitive streak and her soft spot for Ren. 

Feeling a bit guilty, you suggest, "Why don't we let Ren pick?"

Ren beams up at both of you, clearly delighted to have the choice. "I wanna be on your team!" she exclaims, pointing at you and Powder.

“You’re gonna be our secret weapon,” you whisper, wrapping an arm around Ren’s shoulders.

“Alright then,” Ekko chimes in, finally managing to free himself from the couch. “Let’s do this.”

Everyone grabs their nerf guns and heads outside. You can't help but chuckle at the sight of Sevika, usually so intimidating, clutching a bright orange plastic gun with a determined look on her face.

"Alright, teams start at opposite ends of the house," Powder instructs. "When I give the signal, the hunt begins!"

You crouch behind a bush with Powder and Ren, all of you trying (and failing) to look serious with your toy weapons.

"Ready?" Powder calls out. "Set... GO!"

And with that, you all come barreling into the house. Powder darts ahead, her movements quick and erratic. You follow, trying to keep an eye on Ren while scanning for potential ambush spots.

As you round a corner, you come face to face with Sevika. For a moment, you both freeze, nerf guns pointed at each other. 

"Sorry, babe," you say, not sorry at all as you pull the trigger.

But Sevika's reflexes are faster. She ducks, the foam dart whizzing over her head, and returns fire. You barely dodge, and you take the moment to sneak onto the stairs.

Upstairs, you quickly begin your search, darting in and out of rooms, peeking under beds and behind curtains for any sign of the hidden crown.  Ren’s small size gives her an advantage as she slips into tight spots that you and Powder can’t quite reach.

But despite your efforts, it was nowhere to be found. "How?" you mutter, bewildered.

Powder's eyes narrow, scanning the area. "Ekko," she hisses, pointing to an open window. "He must've climbed up from outside!"

Quickly, you formulate a plan. Ren is dispatched to keep watch with Vander, ensuring Ekko can't make a sneaky victory while you and Powder hunt down Sevika and Ekko.

With that, you guys head back downstairs, moving quietly as you scan the house for any signs of the other team. As you move through the house, you and Powder eventually decide to split up, hoping to cover more ground. 

It doesn’t take long before you spot Sevika, her broad frame moving stealthily through the hallway. She hasn’t seen you yet, and you quickly close the distance, pressing yourself against the wall to remain hidden. When she finally turns the corner, you’re right there, catching her off guard.

“Drop the gun,” you command, your voice low and teasing as you pin her against the wall, your body pressing into hers. Sevika’s eyes widen in surprise, her hands instinctively going up in mock surrender, though there’s a glint of amusement in her gaze.

“And what if I don’t?” she murmurs, her lips quirking into a playful smile.

“Then I’ll have to make you,” you reply, your tone equally flirtatious as you lean in closer, the game momentarily forgotten.

"Ewww, get a room!" Ekko's voice breaks the spell. You spin around to find Ekko aiming at you, the crown tucked under his arm. 

But before you can react, Powder emerges from a doorway behind Ekko, her nerf gun raised and ready. Without missing a beat, she fires a dart that hits Ekko square in the back. “Gotcha!” she shouts triumphantly.

Ekko’s eyes widen in shock as he instinctively drops the crown, clutching his back where the dart hit. “Hey, what the fuck, Powder?!” he exclaims, his tone incredulous.

“Language, Ekko!” Vander’s voice booms from the kitchen, echoing through the house.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Sevika quickly knocks the nerf gun out of your hand. But before she can fully capitalize on her victory, you kick the crown down the hallway, sending it skittering toward the kitchen.

“Move kid!” Sevika barks as she grabs Ekko by the arm, dragging him behind a couch. Ekko, still nursing his mock wound, yells out dramatically, “Man down! Man down!”

There's a moment of tense silence, then Ekko's voice pipes up again. "I'm getting healed by a health kit!"

“What the hell?” Powder says with a look of utter disbelief. “There’s no health kit in this game!”

"Yeah, 'cause I took it!" Ekko retorts, popping up from behind the couch and unleashing a barrage of foam darts.

The living room erupts into chaos. You dive behind an armchair, Powder taking cover behind another couch. Foam darts fly in every direction, peppering the air with colorful streaks.

You peek out, catching Sevika's eye across the room. She winks at you before ducking to avoid a well-aimed shot from Powder. 

"Cover me!" you shout to Powder, making a dash for the hallway where the crown disappeared.

Ekko leaps over the couch, trying to intercept you. "Oh no, you don't!" he yells, unleashing a volley of darts in your direction.

You slide across the hardwood floor, narrowly avoiding his attack. Sevika provides covering fire for Ekko, keeping Powder pinned down.

As you scramble to your feet at the kitchen entrance, ready to grab the crown and make a triumphant dash to Vander, you freeze. The crown is gone.

A throat clears behind you. You turn to see Vander, sitting calmly at the kitchen table. Beside him stands Ren, a victorious grin on her face and the crown placed neatly on Vander's head.

The chaos in the living room dies down as everyone realizes what's happened. Ren's giggles fill the sudden silence.

"I believe," Vander says, his eyes twinkling with amusement, "that we have a winner."

For a moment, you're all too stunned to speak. Then Powder bursts out laughing, followed quickly by Ekko. Soon, you're all in stitches, the absurdity of the situation hitting you all at once.

As you catch your breath, you feel Sevika's arm wrap around your waist. "Can’t believe we were outsmarted by an eight-year-old," she murmurs in your ear.

You lean into her, watching as Vander lifts Ren onto his shoulders, parading her around the kitchen as the victor. Ekko and Powder are already arguing about a rematch and new teammates for next time.

As the excitement of the game winds down, Vander glances at the clock. "It's getting late." 

You nod in agreement, glancing over at Ren. “Do you want to stay at Powder’s or with us tonight?” 

Ren's eyes light up. "Stay with Powder!" she exclaims without hesitation.

Before you can even respond, Powder and Ekko are already shepherding Ren up the stairs, their voices a jumble of excited plans for a sleepover.

Caitlyn and Vi exchange a knowing look. "Ooh, you two are finally getting some alone time," Vi teases with a wink.

You feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment, but Sevika seems unfazed. 

"So, how are those new recruits doing on the walls? Getting the hang of things?"  You ask, trying to get the attention off you.

Caitlyn's face does a complicated dance between diplomacy and honesty. "Well, they're... enthusiastic." 

Vi snorts, unable to contain herself. "Come on, cupcake. Tell 'em the truth."

Caitlyn's facade cracks. "Alright, fine. Their aim is absolutely atrocious. I've never seen so many missed targets in my life. We had one recruit who managed to shoot his own hat off."

You all burst out laughing, the mental image too ridiculous to resist.

Vander shakes his head. "Everyday I’m thankful that’s not me, I'm getting too old for that kind of headache."

Sevika raises an eyebrow at him. "Not too old to keep experimenting with your homebrews though, are you?"

You all laugh at that. It's true - besides overseeing the community's agriculture, Vander's taken to crafting various meads and ales in his spare time.

"I'll have you know that my brewing skills only improve with age, unlike my patience," Vander puffs up his chest in mock indignation.  “And I'm taking back the ale from tonight, can't have you lot disparaging my other talents.”

Vi grins. "C'mon, Vander. You know the community needs that alcohol. How else are we supposed to cope with Powder's 'experiments'?"

This sets off another round of laughter, but your conversation is suddenly interrupted when Ren comes downstairs, looking shy and hesitant. 

"What's wrong, sweetie?" 

Sevika seems to understand before you do, her voice softening as she reaches out to Ren. “Come on, kid. Let’s get you tucked in.”

The three of you make your way upstairs, the house now quiet as the night settles in. Ren leads you to the bedroom she’s sharing with Powder and Ekko. 

Sevika moves to the bed, pulling back the covers and helping Ren climb in. Ren looks up at you both, her eyes wide and a little sad, as Sevika tucks the blankets around her snugly. “Can you get it?” Ren asks quietly.

You follow her gaze to the small play tent in the corner of the room, where she likes to spend her time during the day. You walk over, crouching down to peer inside, and that’s when you see it—peeking out from under a pile of toys. Your breath hitches as you recognize it instantly: Grayson’s yellow armband.

You carefully pull it out, the fabric worn but still vibrant, and bring it over to Ren. She takes it from you, her small hands wrapping around the band as if it’s the most precious thing in the world. “I miss her,” she whispers.

Your heart breaks at the sight of her holding onto that small piece of Grayson. You kneel beside the bed, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “I know, honey,” you say softly. “We all miss her. But she’s always with us, in here.” You gently place a hand over Ren’s heart, offering her a comforting smile.

Ren nods and she clutches the armband tightly, her grip strong for someone so small. Sevika’s expression is unreadable, a mix of emotions flashing across her face as she watches the scene unfold. 

After a few moments, Ren’s eyelids start to droop, exhaustion finally taking over. You lean down, pressing a gentle kiss to Ren’s forehead. “Goodnight sweetie,” you whisper.

You and Sevika quietly bid Ekko and Powder goodnight as well, sharing a few last words before heading back downstairs. The house is much quieter now, the energy from earlier having dissipated into a peaceful calm. You say your goodbyes to Vander, Caitlyn, and Vi, thanking them for the evening.

As you step out into the cool night air, the streets of Zaun are mostly quiet. Sevika’s hand finds yours, her grip warm and comforting. “You okay?” she asks.

You nod, though your mind is still on Ren and the armband. “Yeah,” you say softly, squeezing her hand. “It’s just… it’s hard sometimes, you know? Seeing how much she misses Grayson.”

Sevika doesn’t respond right away, but you feel her thumb brushing gently over your knuckles, a silent gesture of understanding. “She’s a tough kid,” she finally says.  “She’s more resilient than we think.”

You wordlessly agree, falling into a comfortable silence as you guys listen to the hum of the surrounding houses and your footsteps on the pavement.  For a while, neither of you speak, simply enjoying the quiet together.

You find yourself stealing glances at Sevika, admiring her profile in the dim light. She catches you looking and raises an eyebrow, a small smirk playing at the corner of her lips. You playfully bump your shoulder against hers, and she returns the gesture, a bit harder.

You smile, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as you bump her again, just to see what she’ll do.

Sevika doesn’t say anything, but you can see the corner of her mouth twitching upward, that almost-smile that she gets when she’s trying to keep her cool but failing just a bit. She bumps you back, a little more firmly this time, and you laugh, the sound light and carefree in the stillness of the night.

You nudge her again, and this time, she stops walking altogether. Before you can react, she grabs your hand, pulling you toward her with a gentle but firm tug. The sudden movement catches you off guard, and you stumble slightly, your hands instinctively reaching out to steady yourself.

But Sevika’s already there, her strong arms wrapping around you, holding you close. There’s a brief moment where you just look at each other, the playful teasing of earlier fading into something softer, more intimate. The distance between you disappears, and you feel the warmth of her body against yours, the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathes.

She doesn’t say anything—doesn’t need to. The look in her eyes, the way she’s holding you, it says it all. 

Without a word, she leans down, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss. It’s sweet and gentle, and it fills you with a warmth that spreads through your chest, making you feel like you could stay here forever, wrapped up in this simple, perfect moment.

You melt into the kiss, your hand sliding from her shoulder to the nape of her neck. 

When she finally pulls back, it’s only by a fraction, her forehead resting against yours as she breathes out a soft sigh. You can't resist leaning in to place another quick kiss on her lips, delighting in the way it makes her smile.  

"What was that for?" you ask softly, not that you're complaining.

"Do I need a reason?" she asks, her voice husky but tender.

You shake your head, smiling. "Definitely not. Feel free to do that anytime."

She chuckles softly, pulling you close as you resume your walk home. Her arm wraps securely around your waist, and you lean into her, feeling safe and cherished.

taglist:

@mirconreadzztuff22 @lils-1979 @veoomvroom @schmoni

@poxismind @kittykatz1227 @archangeldyke-all @abbyssgf @ivorydevil

@lez-zuha @iamastar @jellyfishrnice @anemoxlys @l0vel3tterl0ver

@lavendersgirl @h0pe-scotch @lia-winther @kittykatz1227 @dontknowwhenispawned

@sevikitty @sarahduke @raphaellearp @cewl-casper @crying-lighting443

@sodavrr @sweet-lover-girl @love-sevikalove @pinkyykisses @glass-apothecary

@mulan-but-gay @lesbnrock @hyuckiesoftie @melanie-watermelon @powderbomb-jinxed

@levilvrr @theacedragon0w0

[iloveavatar]

a mothers instinct

neteyam x fem! reader

this is when the reader and neteyam are kids! also this is just something short (hopefully people are ok with that)

neteyam was always a wonderful kid.

the type of kid to always be happy about anything and everything.

neytiri never had an issue with her eldest. he has always laughing at something she did or something jake said that he found absolutely hilarious.

neytiri soon realized that neteyam was curious about the forest animals.

how they grew, what they looked like, how they responded to na’vi, etc.

he asked her if they could look for a specific type of thing in the forest. except neytiri had an issue… seeing as the one thing he wanted to go find was in fact not an animal.

he wanted to find another na’vi.

neytiri tried explaining to him that the na’vi children weren’t just hiding in the forest.

but neteyam insisted they go look.

he wanted to find another na’vi.

one by the name of y/n.

neytiri was quite confused as to who y/n was. however she still followed her eldest child deep into the forest where he was leading her.

they soon stopped at a small tree.

the tree was slightly glowing, the leaves were different shades of green and blue. the height of the plant was just tall enough where the top reached neytiris waist.

neteyams little tail was flickering back and forth in anticipation. his eyes darting around with hope of seeing his new friend.

“neteyam why have we stopped? there’s nothing here honey?” neytiri questioned with a confused look on her face.

“this is where y/n told me to meet her! she’s super pretty, just wait mom!” he excitedly said, slightly bouncing with joy.

neytiri decided to try and listen for any footsteps approaching. she heard a small stick break near the two of them.

her ears twitched at the sound.

she slowly got into a defensive position to protect her son.

however she couldn’t protect her son, seeing as neteyam was running away from her arms towards the sound.

“neteyam!” she whispered-yelled

“mama! mama! it’s y/n i see her!” he yelled with a smile on his little face.

neytiri followed her son to where she spotted another young na’vi.

however the young little girl was sniffling.

“y/n? are you ok? why are you sad?” neteyam worriedly asked. he ran around her to get a good look at her face properly.

“…neteyam? i thought you didn’t come?” she asked with tears in her big round eyes.

“what? of course i would come! why wouldn’t i?” he asked

“you weren’t at the tree… and i-i thought you forgot about me so i went to leave. b-but then i tripped and now my foot hurts.” she explains showing him how her ankle was swollen.

neytiri stepped around to face to pair.

y/n gasped.

“y-you’re neytiri! you fought against the scary sky people!” y/n said astonished. her jaw was dropped.

neytiri chuckled at the girls expression. she soon stopped laughing once she saw the damage her little foot had taken. her ankle was quite swollen.

neytiri had her mother instincts kick in and squatted down to get a proper look at the ankle.

“mom? what should we do about her foot? is she gonna be ok?” neteyam questioned nervously, seeing as he was anxious about his friends injury.

“she will be once we get her to your grandmother.” she said with a small smile on her face.

neytiri then picked up y/n and placed her on her back.

“let’s go get your foot fixed up so you two can play yeah?” she asked as she started to walk home.

neteyam led the way all the way back to his grandmothers tent.

the entire walk back to the village(?) neteyam and y/n ranted about all of the things they want to do. they talked about how they were going to swim, find different plants, eventually ride ikrans, all the way to what they wanted to become when they were older.

neytiri listened to the two of them with a smile on her face.

she was glad neteyam found a friend.

especially one who was as adventurous as him.

neytiri over the years witnessed how neteyam and y/n became closer than ever to one another.

neytiri realized the longing looks the two would send each other. the worry that they had whenever the other would go somewhere. the smiles they would send each other.

she noticed it all.

she even noticed the love in their eyes as they grew older and wiser.

her mother instincts were always right.

and a mother always knows best.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

enjoy guys! i’m so sorry i’m always slow with posting.

please send requests!!

~S!

[hello-from-nrc-infirmary]

A Centennial Celebration

Book 2: A Century of Circumstance

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5A] [5B]

Chapter 6: Winter's Fangs

Vern thought he was ready. At least, he had an idea of what would happen when Victor saw him after the meeting. It didn’t take long for his assumptions to be proven right. His unique magic is left withering. 

“You didn’t call,” the winter sprites tone is frigid.

He grits his teeth as he jumps away, dodging an oversized icicle by a hair. Impaling the earth, it sends out a cloud of dirt. Coughing, Vern stumbles as he lands. Barely catching himself, he casts for a thick barrier of brambles and bushes. 

“What happened, sweetie,” Victor’s amused laugh briefly rings in the air, “did that school make you softer?”

An explosive spell slams into his chest and knocks the air from his lungs. Flying back, his buffer instantly wilting. He crashes through several trees. Slamming to the ground hard enough to leave a small crater. Air feels almost impossible to inhale as he’s left choking from the impact.

Pain shoots through his system from his shoulder. His jaw drops in a silent scream, unable to fully process what exactly happened. The high whistle of Victor’s spell gets closer. Forcing his signature spell out, the barely formed line of trees is effortlessly cut down.

Bark splinters whip through the air. Any greenery around him withers as it’s strangled by frost. Struggling to push himself up, Vern’s left panting as he squints through the dust. Ice abruptly shackles his wrists. It drags his arms over his head as a pillar of ice curls upwards, leaving him dangling.

He chokes on a scream, unable to voice it as his shoulder is moved. The pain is dizzying as he tries to focus on casting something—anything. Familiar night-dark eyes glimmer as Victor steps up to him. Vern attempts to kick him, but the winter sprite is just out of range.

“There’s that fire.”

The sharp snap of Victor’s fingers cut through the air. Ice shoots up to trap Vern’s feet, yanking them towards the ground. He steps closer with a satisfied grin, “you know, this would all hurt a lot less if you-“

He stops as spit suddenly splatters across his face. Vern’s glare is sharper than daggers, “I-I still have t-twenty years.”

Chilled fingers grip his chin, “we both know you won’t find anyone…”

Frost curls across his chin and cheeks from the winter sprite’s touch. The light in his amber eyes dims a little. Victor’s other hand traces a jagged scar across Vern’s exposed abdomen. More ice spreads out from Victor’s fingers. He flinches at the touch, trembling as he’s gradually encased in ice and frost. At least, his shoulder has gone numb from the cold.

“Aw, sweetheart,” he freezes the tears on Vern’s cheeks, “you’re as damaged as always.”

“I-I…. ’m… I’m… n-not….”

“Sh…I’ll make you pretty and take-“ a spell slices between them. Victor barely dodges it by a hair. Victor casts an ice spike, stepping further back as it’s shattered by a second and third spell. Vern squeezes his eyes shut against the shards.

“Hey.”

That voice… is familiar. He slowly opens his eyes, new tears spilling down his cheeks. They’re hot against his skin, and the world is overly bright. A flicker of green fire and aurora eyes greet his vision. A relieved smile pulls at the corner of his lips, “h-hello…”

Steel keeps his sword pointed at Victor, who lands a few feet away. He quickly fires a few more spells to blast the winter sprite back. His voice is low, only meant for Vern, “can you hold on a moment?”

“I… th-think….”

He glances at Vern, concern and guilt flash in his gaze, “your lips are blue.”

“O-oh…”

Right as he casts to try blasting the ice holding Vern, a spell slams into him. Stumbling, he tries to stay on his feet. An icicle is launched at them. He curses and slashes it off course, sending it crashing to the ground.

“I’ll be quick. Stay awake!”

Steel blocks another spell with his sword before lunging for the winter sprite. Vern squints to keep ice shards out. Careful not to let his eyes close for too long. He can hear a few other familiar voices. They’re muffled and distant, not quite able to hear what’s being said over the growing ringing in his ears. Even his vision is getting a little fuzzy…

Ooc// Songs: Deep End by I Prevail and Kill the Noise by Papa Roach

@nrcbookclub @castaway-achlys @nightonthemountain

Book 1: [1] [2] [3]

Book 2: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5A] [5B] [6] [7]

Book 3: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]

[b1rds3ye]

Victory Kiss

Turns out Graves gets very passionate when celebrating a successful mission. And when you’re nearby you end up facing the brunt of it.

Pairing: Phillip Graves x GN!Reader

Reader Aliases: Chief

Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Pre-MWII

Word Count: 1.5k

Warning: Graves kisses reader without prior consent (not malicious but please read at your own discretion)

A/N: Probably OOC Graves but imagining this was too entertaining to me 😋

You’ve gotten used to this.

You’ve gotten used to Graves’ infectious energy after a hard-earned win. He was a natural leader, cunning and brimming with charisma, but carefully restrained as to not be impulsive in high stakes situations. But when the stakes were low - such as times like now - Graves was free to be as expressive as he wished. And as second in command to Shadow Company, required to always stand by his side, you got front tickets to watch it unfold.

Shadow Company had offered unofficial air support in the depths of Kastovia. With every operation the stakes were getting higher and higher. After deploying all ammunition until resources were depleted, it seemed the entire aircraft waited with bated breath as you surveyed the ground through a heads up display. You sensed Graves beside you, his looming shadow gave more contrast to the monochromatic screen. Each pixel flickered from the daylight, the movement of trees and friendlies through the screen setting false flags in your mind.

You pulled back to look at Graves. His face was stern, the muscles in his face taut, eyebrows slightly furrowed as he tried to read your neutral expression. You shook your head.

“Confirmed hit, all hostiles eliminated.”

And there it was, like a switch flicked inside of him, you felt a little proud that you were the one who triggered it. Graves slammed his hands on the front console, pushing himself off to stand tall, brimming with energy. He was now adorning that familiar smile, a little wonky but charming all the same. With a heavy arm, he gave you a hefty slap on the back in congratulations, one that would’ve sent your head through the display if you weren’t prepared.

“That’s what I’m fucking talking about Shadows, this is how you get the job done!”

The entire atmosphere of the compartment lifted, you wouldn’t be surprised if the aircraft itself increased in elevation. There were sighs of relief, cheers of joy and hugs of a job well done. You never got sick of this sight, it reminded you what you were fighting for, to bring these boys home and secure victory.

It was a familiar sight, but it was comfortingly predictable. You watched with amusement as Graves paced around the room, praising each individual member in a voice so loud it damaged your ears once, then bounced off the walls to hurt your hearing for a second round. Each recruit responded with the signature ‘yup-yup’ and beaming smile. With each comment given, Graves was getting more and more drunk off the adrenaline which after months of observing him, came with some interesting habits of his.

It was fun hearing him swear like a sailor when he usually keeps his language so restrained he could be put on a children’s show.

“I saw your shots Erikson, that was the shit.”

“Vance you saved our fuckin’ asses with that extra fire.”

“Send this mission report to Shepherd and your dads will be back with the milk before you fucking know it!”

You’re pretty sure Graves has no idea what’s coming out of his mouth at this rate and to be fair neither do you nor the rest of the Shadows.

You stifled a snicker as you watched on. He continued with his questionable praise, not even stopping at the aircraft itself to which he gave an encouraging spank to the metal wall, only to recoil his arm when it unmistakably hurt his palm. Even on the other side of the aircraft, you caught snippets of what he said and you were sure the cheerful laughs of the Shadows were out of respect and not because they understood him. Although with an accent and voice like his, he could make a nonsensical string of sounds and you’d be nodding along.

Graves had gone full circle and made his way back to you.

“And to the soldier of the hour.”

He reared his head to you with such a leading force that the rest of his body had a hard time keeping up. His arms swayed from the momentum.

Just like every routine celebration, he planted his hands securely on your shoulders. His face is graced with the same charming smile he’s given you for months. Even under the red lighting of the aircraft he looked nothing short of a budding hero, the blue of his irises shone against the shadows cast over his face.

You expected the praise.

“Beautiful fuckin’ work, Chief.”

What you didn’t expect was the kiss that came straight afterwards.

You didn’t even have time to reply as Graves used his leverage on your shoulders to pull you in, lips crashing against yours. It was chaste, but the sheer strength he had made you sure your lips will bruise. Your mind blanked, adrenaline numbing any potential pains. The whirring of the aircraft’s turbo engines were drowned out, your vision dimming at the edges as all your senses honed in on Graves’ lips pressed into yours. It lasted no more than a single second until he separated from you, lips parting with an exaggerated but unintentional mwah.

“Dunno what I’d do without you,” he breathed out, only for you to hear. He watched you innocently, the skin around his eyes wrinkled in excitement, hands drifting down until they were on your biceps, rubbing your arms affectionately. However, you had to tear your gaze away from him and to the rest of the aircraft.

Graves just kissed you…

… in front of Shadow Company.

Your stomach dropped as you made eye contact with the entire team who now watched the two of you like teens tuning in to the hottest new flick. They were here for the drama, quiet as they waited for your response but smiles of anticipation creeping onto their faces.

“Eyes off, Shadows.”

Graves’ voice returned to its usual commanding tone, as though you were back in the mission. There was the grumble of ‘yup-yup’s’ as the rest of the team made the show of focusing on their stations (but you knew they were still sneaking glances whenever possible). Graves reoriented the two of you until you were against the wall, using himself to obscure the company’s view of you.

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” Graves muttered absentmindedly. He sounded more grounded, but he still needed to catch up on his breath, chest heaving in and out.

“It was a damn clean mission, Graves.”

“I ain’t talkin’ about the mission.”

Graves gives you his signature cocky smirk, waiting for a few moments for you to reply with your usual reassurance. But no thoughts were crossing your mind, instead it was aimlessly swimming in his attention. His arms that latched onto you were getting stronger, fingers tightening and burrowing into the narrow space between your tactical gear and shirt. His pupils were blown out, puppy-like as they searched you. But you couldn’t reply, not when you were drinking him in like he was to you. Your silence started to become overwhelming, crashing against Graves’ confidence and his smile fell, bravado collapsing with it.

“No good?” He faltered, letting his head hang low. He let out a quiet curse under his breath. “You put up with a lot of Shadow bullshit, both from them and me… I got lost in the moment.”

His attention turns to his hands that are on your arms. The pads of his thumbs rub your shirt fabric soothingly before dropping his hands to his sides. He gives you one final reassuring pat on the back, half-hearted and lacking its usual strength.

“I misread us,” he pursed his lips as he reflected, eventually shaking his head and tutting his lips disapprovingly at himself. “This is on me.”

“What?” You force yourself out of your stupor upon noticing Graves’ dejected form. You hurriedly try to pick him up, now you were the one putting your hands on his shoulders. “No, I just- I didn’t expect it. It was a surprise.”

“… you like surprises?” He looked up at you through his lashes, eyes brimming full of hope. You sometimes forget he’s your superior when he dials up his boyish charm.

“If they’re all like that then yes.”

“Then there’s plenty more where that came from, darlin'.”

His smug grin was back in full force, he only allowed himself a split second to memorise your shocked expression before turning away so you couldn’t respond. He rouses the rest of the Shadows up with an authoritative clear of the throat. He stands tall, back to the restrained commander role but not without a hand sneaking up to settle on the small of your back. Even as he assumed his professional role once again, the zeal in his voice was unmatched.

“Excellent work all ‘round boys. Let’s bring this aircraft back home.”

There were affirmative responses all round, but a curious Shadow couldn’t help but poke their head out of their station.

“So, uh, Graves. Are you and Chief a thing now?”

“Speak outta line like that again and you’re on cleanin’ duty for the next month, Sergeant.”

“… yup-yup.”

Call of Duty Masterlist

[zomb-core]

۫ ꣑ৎ SCARS || carl grimes x female reader

summary: carl sees your scars and comforts you.

(intended lowercase)

warnings: talks of past self harm.

comfort

when the apocalypse started everything changed, you and everyone else's lives were flipped upside down nearly overnight and it was an adjustment to say the least.

out of everything, one thing remained the same; your relationship with long sleeves. you used to hate them, they were hot and itchy but you'd grown accustomed to them over time. before everything had happened, you had been dealing with your previous life and issues and it had taken a toll on you. you had felt so alone and helpless and it caused you to do things you weren't proud of, self harm being one of those things.

you regretted it more than anything, you hated the way the scars looked on your wrist and the way it made people think of you — it was belittling. so you covered them.

it seemed like a ridiculous thing to care about with everything going on, but you were only human and you were bound to have insecurities.

your paranoia of people seeing them only grew when you met carl.

at first you hadn't understood why, but time slowly revealed your infatuation with him and it made sense why you wouldn't want him to know about them. you wanted him to see you, not your past mistakes.

and he did, he saw you more than anyone. he listened to you, he took care of you, he loved you and his love was the most beautiful thing you had ever experienced. you had never experienced something as refreshing and tender as his love and you were beyond ecstatic the day he asked you to be his girlfriend.

it was the sweetest thing, you were sitting against a tree trunk with him by your side, your head rested on his shoulder while you read an issue of your favorite comic together. he would wait for you to finish to turn the page even when he was itching to turn the page to see the next part and something about that factor made you weak in the knees.

you had thanked him for being so patient and he told you not to worry about it.

then, he reached over and plucked a small yellow flower from the grass and handed it to you. it was a simple gesture but it brought a smile to your lips. you leaned over and kissed him on the cheek and he responded by kissing you on the lips and asking you to be his girlfriend.

you would've been a fool to say no.

now you sat on the edge of his bed, anxiously waiting for him.

the two of you had been on watch together, you were both talking about your day and what you planned to do after you finished there. everything had been going perfect, except for the fact that it was extremely hot out.

you could feel the sun on your back as you spoke with him, beads of sweat forming on the back of your neck. it was torture.

you weren't sure what invoked you to do it, but you rolled up your sleeves. it was so hot that you hadn't even thought about it until the damage was done and his eye was flickering between your face and your arm in shock. the second you processed what you had done you had rolled them back down and turned to walk away in a panic.

you heard him call after you but you ignored him.

after pacing around your room for a while, you had come to the conclusion that talking to him was the smartest of all of your options so here you were.

“y/n?” you were brought out of your thoughts by the sound of his voice.

“carl, hey.” you stood up from where you were sitting on the bed, your hands clasped together in front of you. “I, um..” you searched for what to say but words seemed to elude you.

he luckily filled the silence that surrounded you in your panic, “we don't have to talk about it if you don't want to.”

your breath quivered as you shook your head in a silent attempt to clear your thoughts. before he had walked in the room, you were certain you were gonna explain it to him and answer any questions he might have, but every fiber of your being was racked with uncertainty.

“I'm here if you want to, though.”

your legs pressed against the side of the mattress as you stepped back into the bed to take a seat, catching your head in your hands when you did. “I do.”

a moment passed before you felt the bed dip next to you, he left a decent size space in-between the both of you likely assuming you wanted space and waited for you to speak, his gaze lingering on you as he did so.

“I shouldn't have kept it from you,” you lifted your head to meet his eyes, his gaze was gentle and attentive and you relaxed under it, “I was scared you'd see me differently and I couldn't… I can't handle it.”

“I wouldn't.” he assured, shaking his head as if to emphasize the statement. “if it's important to you that I don't address them I won't.”

his hand moved to linger above yours, his thumb grazing the back of your palm. carl had always been big on physical touch when it came to the two of you being alone or a situation where one of you needed comfort, but he respected your boundaries and was willing to make sure you were comfortable with the touch at the moment. you briefly nodded to tell him it was okay, and he rested his hand atop of yours, his eyes never once moving from your face.

“It's not that,” you sighed, staring down at where his hand sat on yours. “when I started I felt so alone it was sickening and when people found out, the feeling only seemed to grow. people looked at me like I wasn't human anymore, I was just seen as this weak, demented monster who couldn't handle the real world.”

tears clouded your vision as you spoke, you felt so vulnerable and it made you nauseous, but you needed him to know. you couldn't keep it from him forever and you knew if you didn't address it now, you might never get the chance. “they told me they were gross and that I should cover them and I listened. I know they're not pleasant to look at and I know what people think when they see them, I wanted to avoid that.. with you especially.”

when you finally managed to look back up at him you were met with a look of acknowledgement instead of the usual pity or disgust you saw from others. “I don't think they're gross or that you're weak.”

he turned your wrist over and adjusted your sleeve to examine your arm, his thumb tracing over the gnarled skin. “you’re alive, you survived and if they're proof of that then they're not gross and they sure as hell don't mean you're weak.”

he brought your wrist up to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss against your pulse point, lingering for a moment before pulling back and releasing his hold on your arm.

“thank you.” you mumbled, a small sniffle accompanying the words.

his thumb swept over a fallen tear and he shook his head, “don’t thank me.” lanky arms found their way around your shoulders and pulled you closer, your face pressed flush against the curve of his neck. the familiar brush of his lips met the side of your scalp as he placed a gentle kiss there. “I love you.”

you readjusted yourself in his embrace just enough for you to lean back and capture his lips in a tentative kiss. “I love you, too.”

dedicated to @txrasbae

masterlist

[ganxiously]

This is the part of the helicopter crash fic I started writing today. I don't know if I'm going to post it to ao3 but I did want to share it here. Now, this first update is angst so read at your own risk, but it will be a happy ending, I promise. This is Tommy's pov and I'll be back with Buck's side of things and the aftermath as soon as I have finished writing them —

The silence is stark in the aftermath and Tommy’s ears ring like they are still expecting the screech of the altitude alarms or the roar of metal crashing into rocks and trees. He’s not sure what happened, one moment he was flying his helo back to Harbour and the next, the altitude alarms started going off one by one. He had tried to fix it, tried to pull the bird up even as it became amply clear that nothing was working. They had dropped fast, swinging this side and that with the wind and then his tail had hit the cliffside, sending him and his medic rolling down the mountain in a 30-tonne metal can. He doesn’t know what happened to her, Amy, a new recruit with a penchant for keeping to herself. That’s why they worked together so well, a good thing until it led them here.

“Amy?”, he manages to ask, his voice coming out hoarse. “Medic Garcia?”

There is nothing. Not even the sound of feeble breaths. Tommy swallows the burgeoning feeling of grief and panic and tries to think of a way out. It’s dead of the night, the scenery outside the broken glass of his wind-screen pitch black, the flickering lights of the city not even visible from where he’s landed. He tries to move himself and then immediately freezes as the pain threatens to take away his consciousness. 

This is bad, he thinks. I don’t know how to get out of this one.

He is still strapped into his harness and beneath that, his flight suit is soaked with blood. It feels tacky and slippery against his skin, enough of it that he knows wherever it’s coming from, it’s not good news. It’s not survivable. His legs are pinned and he’s pretty sure the wet feeling around his eyes is blood. His ribs hurt and when he tries to move his hands, his shoulders refuse to bear the weight.

Oh, I am definitely not getting out of this one.

The realisation hits like G during a rapid climb and for the first time in long while, Tommy’s scared. He is terrified, as terrified as he hasn’t been since he was a wet-behind-his-ears boy seeing war for the first time. He thinks his hands would shake if he could move them that fast, his breath would stutter if it already wasn’t, wheezing past the damage, past the blood and tickling at his lips.  He doesn’t want to die like this, the thought occurs to him. He doesn’t want to die at all. He wants to turn back time and return to those scant months when he had been, for once, truly happy. He wants . . . he wants Evan. Beside him, holding his hand, his fingers tracing the lines on Tommy’s palm as he talks about anything and everything that comes to his mind.

Maybe that is the thing about impending death. Its finality, its loneliness puts things into perspective really fast. When he had all the time in the world, he had faltered, he had a thousand and one excuses ready as to why it was a bad idea. Now that Tommy’s out of time, there is not one that seems to hold up to reason. He wants Evan, he loves Evan and he should have told him that when he still had the chance. He should have spent every second he had left loving him.

He somehow manages to take his phone out of his pocket, surprised to see that it’s still mostly intact, except for the one thin crack down the middle. He thumbs it open and there he is, brushed golden in the sun and laughing at something Tommy had said. It’s a damn shame he can’t remember anymore what that something had been. There’s no cell service on his phone, which is bad but it also relieves him. He doesn’t have to make a 911 call, only to tell them they are already too late and like this, he won’t give in to the urge to hear Evan’s voice one last time.

He opens their message thread like he has done so many times these past couple of weeks, typing and deleting messages that never seem to be able to convey his complicated thoughts. He clicks on the typing bar, watches the keyboard pop up and then just keeps on staring, looking at the bloody fingerprint on his screen as he tries to think of what to write. What last words do you text your ex-boyfriend who you broke up with? That I’m sorry and I think I’m an even bigger asshole than you probably think I am?

The pain in his body notches up, so spread out that he barely knows where it originates from and he grits his teeth with an effort to keep himself from screaming. Eventually, it passes and Tommy takes the opportunity to click on the voice message button to the right.

“Buck.”

He hates that name on his tongue. 

“Evan.”, he starts and then stops again because it still doesn’t feel enough. It doesn’t feel like it encapsulates everything Tommy associates with that name — the warmth, the safety, the incredulous how is he real? and the helpless adoration that he just can’t seem to keep at bay no matter how much he tries. So, he gives it one more shot, “Evan. My Evan. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about a million things.”

A cough stops him, the movement jostling him enough that pain rips through him anew and he is left gasping and sobbing.

“I’m sorry I didn’t stay away. I’m sorry I didn’t leave earlier and I’m sorry I left when I did . . . I’m sorry I hurt you.”

He swallows the blood in his mouth or at least, he tries to but all of it comes out with the next cough.

“I should have stuck around. I should have stayed and I should have loved you as long as you let me. I should . . . I should have told you I love you. Even—even if you don’t and that’s okay. You should— you shouldn’t love someone like me but that was no reason to not tell you I did. I just . . . I should have loved you as hard as I could while I still had the chance, Evan. You, at least, deserved that.”

He’s getting colder by the second and the part of his brain that still works, tells him that he is going into shock. Tommy’s running out of time and he’s running out of time fast.

“I don’t want to die.”, he manages to say through the sobs racking through his throat. He thinks he should feel pain but there isn’t anything beyond numbness anymore, “I don’t want to die and I don’t want to go through death alone. I want you . . .”

No, but that’s not right, is it? He doesn’t want Evan in this mess. Evan doesn’t deserve to get hurt again just to accompany Tommy in his last moments. He should be far away, happy, healthy and at peace. Maybe it is better that they broke up. If this was always supposed to be the end, it is surely better that Evan no doubt hates Tommy a little bit now. Maybe, if he’s lucky, Evan will leave a flower on his grave one day.

“I really wanted to be your last, you know?”, he finally says after a minute of silence, the words spilling out almost conversationally, long after he thought he’s run out of things to say. “But more than that, I wanted you to be my last and I’m happy that I got it, even if it’s not in the way I wanted it to be.”

And it's so fucking typical of him, isn’t it? He is being so selfish right now, ruining Evan’s life like this just so he can get some things off his chest. And he knows Evan, he knows what this message will do to him. Evan will go through life with the burden of Tommy’s regret on his shoulders and he hates how tempting that thought is, that if not in his heart, Tommy’s existence will at least have a place in the scars he carries for the rest of his life.

Here lies Tommy Kinard. He’s the bastard that broke my heart once upon a time.

But no, he can’t do that to Evan. He’s been selfish when he kissed Evan the first time, when they decided to give it a second try and when he hurt Evan to protect himself. He’s been selfish every moment that he managed to steal in between.

“Nevermind.”, he breathes out, smiling through the blood that’s threatening to choke him. “Nevermind, Evan. You— you don’t need to know all that. You should forget me. Forget there was ever a Tommy Kinard who loved you. Live a happy life and maybe . . . maybe in our next one, I’ll get to keep you. I’ll delete this now. I would have deleted myself out of your life too if I could’ve but this will have to do. I’m really outta time here, kid.”

He tries to blink away the blind spots around the edges of his vision but he’s fading fast. He fights against the unmoored feeling that is taking over, tries to swipe his screen in hopes of deleting the message but his hands are too slick and too weak to do anything anymore. The phone slips from his grasp and falls with a thunk somewhere near his feet, not that it matters. Not when he can barely remember what he was doing with the phone in the first place. Something to do with Evan. Maybe.

He huffs at his uselessness.

“Evan.”, his lips shape the word with care even though his voice doesn’t quite manage to colour it fully but it’s enough. It’s enough to have that be the last thing he speaks, to be the last thing he thinks about. The name washes away the cold like dawning sunrise on a crisp winter morning and Tommy is at peace, he is content.

“Tommy?”

That’s Evan’s voice. He has to go. He has to answer. He has to—

[wangxianficrecs]

💙 The Shade of Old Trees by Kryal

💙 The Shade of Old Trees

by Kryal

T, 363k, Wangxian

Summary: “We rest in the shade of trees our ancestors planted.” They called the man in the ice Yiling Laozu, after a folk hero associated with the town in the foothills of the mountains where he was found. No one expected him to be alive! Kay's comments: I have never been less surprised to see that a story was written by a PhD student. The end notes at the end of each chapter are very extensive and just amazing. So much information, so much research, 363k of an incredible story that had me completely hooked. I read it in a week and could hardly focus on anything else, because that story was just so present in the back of my mind and I wanted to know what would happen next. Got introduced to the story by the stunning art by @toffee-arts. I loved the entire plotline of Wei Wuxian having to first learn modern Chinese in order to speak to the scientists (and mostly Lan Zhan) who decided to thaw his supossed corpse. I love how it all came together, how it all wrapped up neatly and the slow burn! The slow burn almost killed me! And how cultivation just awed everyone in modern day!! I just know this story is going to be a favourite I will re-read again and again and there are certainly a lot of details I must have missed during my obsessed binge. Excerpt: Everyone in the observation room tensed. This was, after all, the most delicate point. If it wasn’t going to be possible to remove the ice without beginning to thaw Yiling Laozu, they would have to move very quickly to preserve some of the data they wanted. The cellular damage caused by the freezing process meant that once the ice thawed, the damage would spread rapidly. Lan Wangji glanced at Wen Yuan. “Leave if you need to,” he told the boy quietly. Wen Yuan shook his head. “No, I want to stay…” Lan Wangji wasn’t certain what caught his attention – a flicker of movement from the corner of his eye, a hint of sound, a flash of intuition. He looked up to see Lan Xichen slam into the window. Drop out of sight, stunned by the impact. Beyond, shards of shattered ice fell from black robes scattered across the floor as Yiling Laozu’s body tumbled off the lab table— Twisted. Landed on his feet. Stood. Piercing silvery-grey eyes flickered across the room, wary and confused. Lan Wangji froze. Yiling Laozu was awake. …Yiling Laozu was alive.

pov alternating, modern setting, modern with magic, different first meeting, time travel, time travelling wei wuxian, time travel of sorts, canon divergence, slow burn, worldbuilding, getting together, developing relationship, academia, research, science, bamf wei wuxian, yiling laozu wei wuxian, grief/mourning

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[kismets-barista]

Hold onto your Stetson, @ohposhers; have I got some personal HickDory lore for you 😎💜🌟🫧

Excuse the insanity for those who don't feel compelled towards these two

SO!

Hickory and JD met a few good years before the events of the World Tour when Dory was traveling to find Lonesome Flats, got heatstroke and passed out in the desert. Wakes up to Hickory shadowed in the flickering light of a campfire beneath a canopy of the brightest stars he'd seen since the Neverglades, but it wouldn't be until QUITE a few months later until they really started developing crushes against each other. (Cowboy under the stars, you'd think he'd fall right then and there, right? 🌟)

Why was Hickory already in Lonesome Flats, you might ask? Where was Dickory?

In a glue trap, I say in response. Hickory came from Yodelsberg (is there a canonical name for this?) for international study and to learn about new music. He fell in love with country because yodeling and country music are actually quite gorgeous together. She Taught Me to Yodel, anyone?

Delta Dawn obviously didn't take to Dory showing up and around the town, but after some convincing by Hickory and lots of proving himself (plus a vulture attack that resulted in John Dory saving the very young niece of Delta Dawn- Clampers-) he 'earned' a place there and began to work around town.

It was weird for him.

He'd never quite settled down, until then.

(Now, the specific timeline, yearly I mean is a little muddled because I'm still crafting this, but I'll put them out about three years, now.)

John Dory was still living in Lonesome Flats, and he'd started a relationship with Hickory. They loved each other, as my cohort in crime @protagonist-art (CHECK OUT THEIR ART I LOVE THEM SM MUAH) has Hickory tell John when we get write them, "More than the moon loves the ocean." As surely as the tide pulls in and out, so the lovers return to each other.

So Via, what does Hickory think about BroZone?

Oh, my sweet star.

He doesn't know.

After returning to the devastated Troll Tree, John Dory lost a piece of his heart in the damaged pod they used to live in. It was the first time he went grey, and the memories of his brothers started shifting from what was, to what would never be again. He couldn't find it within himself to talk about them, and has his secrets.

But so does Hickory.

Girl wdym stop being so mysterious.

Heh. I know. It's just a glimpse into my dark mind /ref. Anyways, Hickory never told John Dory he was a Yodeler troll. (Another piece of lore that Quizzy and I worked on together and I think it's brilliant.)

Huh? Aren't they in a long-term relationship? Won't this cause issues later on if they don't share these things with each other?

Oh, they love every aspect of each other too much for their bond to truly be broken.

And yet.

One morning, years after just living and loving, John Dory wakes up with a massive headache and nausea.

"Maybe it's that horse that kicked me yesterday, could've gotten me harder than we both thought."

"Lemme check for a knot, Darlin'."

No knots, but there was an egg.

🌟 (Here I'll say that I'm massively in love with the headcanon that trolls conceive through true love- it isn't quite necessary for them to physically do anything unless they want to. Just them, wholeheartedly trusting and putting everything into their relationship and pouring their heart out to their partner.)

They were absolutely ECSTATIC, and rightfully terrified in their own ways. Neither of them were looking for children but not against it, and after resting for a few days they began to plan. A nursery in the house, baby books with millions of names scattered on the coffee table, toys and cute little baby clothes for when the little one hatched.

Wanna know two of the names John Dory had in mind? Rhonda and Dolly.

They were ecstatic until the night John Dory woke up absolutely ill and with a pit in his stomach.

They lost the egg, and it was the second time John Dory went grey in his life.

A week after this had happened, John Dory left a bundled lock of his hair at Hickory's nightstand and did what he knows how to do all too well. He ran.

Hickory never went too far out of Lonesome Flats in the hopes that John Dory would come back. He couldn't imagine what would happen if his love came back and didn't find him there.

The events of World Tour come about, Hickory meets Branch, and travels for the first time since John Dory left.

John Dory continued to travel, until the events of Band Together.

But don't worry, dear readers, for as surely as the tides come in, so will the lovers meet again. 🌟

Aaaand BOOM! That's it! 💜 I've got lore behind the names Rhonda and Dolly as well, and am SO down to answer any questions about them that anyone has. For you, Posh, thank you for asking and helping me to share a story I've been working on, and for everyone else that read this, thank you kindly! I hope that everyone who made it this far has quite a lovely day, or if you didn't, have a lovely day anyways!

Remember to take your meds, drink water, eat something, and stretch!

💜🌟🫧

[lalacliffthorne]

💜 starshine pt. V 💜

Rhysand x Reader

part I part II part III part IV part V part VI

summary: some long overdue introductions are made.

notes: god, I can't express how fucking happy the love you show for this makes me. I'm honestly pinching myself every time I read all your messages and comments, and I'm not even sure I'm actually processing them all because it's just so completely bonkers. anyway. I'm currently planning on how to proceed with this, and you can probably expect at least a few more chapters *winks and wiggles brows*. I realised we need a few more things before this feels complete. so, here's the next part. I will not be blamed for swooning or emotional damage or anything else.

______________________________________________________________

Exhaling softly, I buried my nose in my pillow, blinking and scrunching my brows. I could feel sunlight on my face and a soft breeze brushing over my skin that smelled like sweet blooming trees and cool mornings, intertwining with another scent that surrounded me, filling my lungs, familiar and warm, causing something to flutter against my ribs.

Slowly cracking open an eye, I squinted into the sunlight filtering through high glass doors. They were opened wide, allowing the morning air to filter through the big room, and as I blinked against the sleep in my eyes and my vision became clearer, my breath hitched a little at the sight of the mountain palace in the golden morning sun.

Hiding my big yawn in my pillow, I turned my head, craning my neck. But the bed behind me was empty.

Something skipped a little in my chest, and I slowly sat up, scrunching my brows against the light and blowing a strand of hair out of my face that had fallen from my braid. Rubbing my eyes, I slid off the mattress, and my gaze flickered towards the door leading into the hall, but then I caught a glimpse at something in the big mirror, and when I turned around, I saw the person out on the balcony.

My heart moved gently in my chest, and breathing out softly, I slowly started to make my way outside.

The sun was warm, just like the stone under my bare feet as I squinted into the light, my breath hitching a little when I caught a glimpse at Velaris down in the vale, the Sidra glittering. Then my gaze turned back towards the male sitting on the ground on the terrace, right in front of a few steps leading down to another, arms resting on his knees, eyes closed as his brows crunched a little against the bright sun. His dark hair was tousled from sleep and the soft breeze, the muscles in his back shifting when he laced his fingers together, and something warm spread through my chest.

Quietly padding closer, I let myself plop down next to him on the stones heated up to by the sun, so close that our shoulders and elbows were touching when I pulled up my bare legs and wrapped my arms around my knees. Drawing up my shoulders a little, I exhaled slowly, blinking into the sun as my gaze moved over the palace stretched over the side of the mountain, the balconies and terraces, huge windows open to let in the breeze, and the city far below. Then I turned my head.

Rhys' eyes were still closed, but the crease between his brows softened as I watched. The warmth of his skin was seeping through the thin cotton of my shirt, and his scent rose into my nose with every breath.

Feeling something gently thrum against my ribs, I carefully shifted a little closer, my shoulder pressing more into his biceps. Then I turned my head back ahead, breathing in the morning air and the smell of flowers as the light wind brushed through the strands fallen from my braid and the sun warmed my skin. My nose crinkled a little as I squinted into the light, something fluttering gently against my ribs.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Rhys blink, brows drawing together as he opened his eyes, his gaze focusing on the city below. His iris looked lighter in the sun, almost like lavender.

A muscle in his jaw shifted, then he mumbled softly: “I don't know whether I deserve this.”

The flutter in my chest turned into a soft twinge, and I felt my brows furrow gently as I looked over at him.

“Deserve what?”

Rhys stared at the palace, the city in the vale.

“All of this. The people down there. I'm not sure I deserve them.” His voice was quiet and raw when he added softly: “Not after all I did.”

The twinge in my chest sharpened, and I swallowed a little.

“Rhys?”

His head turned like my soft call of his name ripped him out of dark thoughts, and I stared at him, feeling something tighten under my ribs when I whispered: “You can't save everyone.”

Rhys stilled, and I offered him a careful, crooked smile. “I know.” I raised one shoulder in a soft shrug. “I tried.”

The male stared at me, the muscles in his cheeks shifting as he swallowed and his eyes darted over my face. I could see the pain buried deep within, felt the emotions whirling under his skin that caused my chest to ache.

“It's the best we can do.” My brows furrowed gently, something churning softly under my ribs when I whispered softly: “Try.” My gaze flickered over his face. “And you did.”

Something rose in my chest, and I pressed my shoulder into his, staring at him. “All you did was to keep them safe. Keep your family safe, your home.” I swallowed softly and mumbled: “You gave everything to protect them.”

Rhys blinked, and something within him seemed to crack when he whispered hoarsely: “What if I gave so much, I ended up broken?”

I stared at him, feeling something tug and tighten in my chest. Then I shrugged just a little, smiling softly.

“Everyone is a little broken. Some maybe more than others, but – it's hard not to. In this world, how can we be anything but?”

Rhys' lips parted, his violet eyes shimmering in the sunlight as they found mine.

“Maybe we're broken.” I felt my brows crunch softly. “But that's not what matters.” I returned his gaze, steady, calm, feeling my heart thrum against my ribs.

“What matters is what we do with the pieces. Whether we put ourselves back together or push the broken pieces away and stay broken.” I smiled, soft and crooked. “I know that mending yourself back together is scary. Because – it probably won't end up looking like before. Some pieces are missing, others are broken beyond repair.” My eyes flickered over the male in front of me, his brows crunched up like he was fighting to keep himself together, iris shimmering as his gaze darted over my face.

“But what you build from the rest is still complete.” I felt my throat tighten a little and smiled softly when I whispered: “And it can still be beautiful.”

The muscles in Rhys' jaw shifted as he swallowed harshly, his eyes a little watery as they searched mine, emotion raging deep within them.

Pressing my shoulder into his, I watched him steadily.

“You're allowed to grieve what you've lost along the way.” I suppressed the urge to swallow again, staring at him firmly as something tightened harshly in my chest. “Just never think that because you've been broken - you can't be whole again.”

Rhys' nostrils flared, and he closed his eyes tightly. My heart tilted, and quickly, before I could stop myself, I stretched.

A light shudder seemed to travel through Rhys' body when I pressed my forehead against his.

“You gave everything for them,”, I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut. “Nothing about that makes you less of a male.” Something skipped and tumbled in my chest, and I smiled crookedly and mumbled softly: “If anything, it makes you even more worthy of their love.”

This time, the tremble that went through Rhys' limbs was stronger. His breath hitting my skin quivered just a little, then he dropped his head forward to gently press back. His nose brushed against mine, and suddenly, my whole body tightened in a soft, sharp inhale.

My breath hitched and stilled, and Rhys tilted his head a little to repeat the soft nudge. I could feel his fingers brushing over my knuckles as the side of his thigh pressed against mine, radiating warmth through the soft material of his pants while his hair tickled my forehead and his breath danced over my skin as he slowly, gently traced his nose over mine.

Swallowing, I pulled my head back a little, feeling my heart race in my chest and something tightening and pulsing under my ribs. Then I opened my eyes, and my breath stumbled.

Rhys' iris twinkled like galaxies, hues of silver and lavender swirling in deep violet, warm and bright as his gaze pierced into mine. The breeze brushed through his tousled dark hair, blowing wisps of hair that had fallen from my braid into my face, and Rhys raised his hand, carefully brushing them away. His thumb followed the line of my cheekbone, sending tingling shivers through my body, and Rhys' throat worked like he was trying not to swallow as his eyes dragged over my face.

The rise and swell in my chest grew unbearable, and I held my breath and blinked, pulling back and smiling softly and crookedly, even though my heart was pounding against my ribs.

I prayed Rhys didn't feel it, couldn't hear the strange flutter in my breath when I turned my eyes back ahead, over the palace dipped in golden light as the sun slowly crept higher up in the sky.

I could feel Rhys' gaze on my face for another second, steady, piercing and calm. Then he turned his head back ahead. His warm shoulder pressed into mine, and I felt him exhale slowly, his skin glowing in the sun as he closed his eyes again, brows scrunching a little.

Without being able to stop myself, I let my gaze flicker towards him and over his profile; his straight nose, high cheekbones, the strand of ink black hair curved over his forehead, the rest messy and tousled -

One corner of Rhys' lips turned upwards until the ghost of a crease formed in his cheek.

“Seeing something you like?”

My heart tipped over at the sound of his deep, rich voice, and trying to ignore the small hitch in my breath, I huffed and glared at him. Rhys' smile just widened.

“You know, I'm sure none of the others would complain if you didn't, but are you going to put on pants before we go down into the city?” His eyes were still closed, lips curved upwards, but his voice sounded a little hoarse when he mumbled softly: “Or are you planning on torturing me a little more?”

My breath hitched as my gaze darted towards him, my lips parting, and Rhys opened his eyes, his iris twinkling brightly as he squinted a little against the sun, looking down at me. The breeze ruffled his hair, and his muscles moved under his sunkissed skin as he shifted a little on the spot, his bare shoulder pressing into mine. He looked dark and warm and – beautiful.

Heartwrenchingly, achingly, breathtakingly beautiful. All of him, his eyes and his smile and the curve of his jaw, the way his muscles worked his under lean sides and powerful shoulders - and everything beneath. His heart, his doubts, his dreams. And even though I had seen him since that first day, had seen all of it and more -

My heart shuddered as I felt the rise and fall under my ribs, the tingles running over my spine and how my breath hitched with every soft inhale. Felt the harsh thrum of my heart, and suddenly, something tipped over in my chest as my heart shuddered again, and my lips parted.

Rhys' brows scrunched lightly. “Starshine?”

“Hm?” My voice sounded soft, breathy as I stared at him, something fluttering wildly against my ribs.

“Are you alright?” One corner of Rhys' lips quirked, his gaze flickering over my face looking torn between amusement and concern, and I blinked and nodded quickly, turning my gaze back ahead as my heart thumped in my chest.

Something rushed through my body as I swallowed gently and felt the flutter under my ribs become more violent.

☆

Making my way through the halls of The House of Wind, I tied the sleeves of my billowing tunic that I had tucked into my leather pants which fit snugly around my legs.

I had figured they were a lot more practical for another flight than a dress.

My heart was pounding steadily against my ribs as I checked if my braid was tied off properly and frowned softly when I realized that there were little wildflowers stuck within. How had they ended up in th-

The doors opened towards a terrace, and when I raised my head, my breath hitched.

Rhys was standing in front of the carved stone balustrade, wings folded comfortably against his back, so big they almost touched the ground. He was squinting into the sunlight, looking completely relaxed, the breeze brushing through his hair.

Like he'd sensed me, he turned his head, and my breath hitched a little when his eyes met mine, deep and vibrant and slowly beginning to twinkle.

Something skipped and tumbled in my chest, and not yet ready to confront the strange sensation of a realisation that had bloomed just a little earlier, I pushed it away and jumped down the few steps, crunching my nose as I smiled sheepishly.

“This alright?”

Rhys' lips curved. “Is what alright?”

I shrugged, turning in a circle and waving a hand over my body exaggeratedly, cracking a grin. “The clothes. You know, for – whatever you have planned. Meeting your friends.” My heart skipped a little nervously as I squinted up at him, coming to a halt in front of him.

Slowly, a crease formed in Rhys' cheek, becoming deeper and deeper the more his smile grew. His eyes were sparkling when he stared down at me, his deep voice vibrating over my skin when he mumbled: “You could turn up in a duvet cover and be beautiful.”

I somehow kept myself from holding my breath even as my heart suddenly toppled, and instead managed to deadpan.

“Alright, so what I'm getting from that statement is that this isn't the right thing to wear –“

Rhys laughed, his eyes crinkling with his wide smile when he stepped forward and grinned down at me.

“You know that is not what I meant.” His iris was bright as his gaze flickered over my face. Then he blinked, his voice softer and steady when he said quietly: “Don't worry. You look beautiful. You always do.”

Barely suppressing the urge to swallow as my throat suddenly tightened, I stared up at him.

"And they'll love you." Rhys' violet eyes pierced mine, something rough in his voice when he mumbled: "They'd be idiots not to."

My heart dipped and swerved, and I inhaled softly and sharply before nodding lightly, feeling my lips quirk in a small, cheeky smile.

“Are you sure we can't just winnow or –“

Rolling his eyes with a grin, Rhys leaned down, and my breath got stuck in my throat with a soft sound when his arm slid around my back.

“Hold on,”, he mumbled, his breath brushing over the side of my neck, and I quickly wrapped my arm over his shoulder.

His hand slipped under my knees, then Rhys lifted me into his arms as he straightened again.

My heart skipped high into my throat when he hoisted me up a little, adjusting his grip until my body was curled into his chest. His scent filled my lungs as he squeezed me gently and looked at me, his eyes sparkling.

“Ready?”

I felt a brush of air when his wings opened, stretching wide, and quickly, I slid my arms around his shoulders, burying my face in the crook of his neck. Squeezing my eyes shut tightly, I nodded, and with one mighty beat, Rhys launched into the sky.

I shrieked softly, feeling Rhys' body vibrate with his low chuckle, then we dropped into a steep dive, and I clung to his shoulders, squealing loudly.

~

I didn't know how long we were in the air. Rhys'´ wings were stretched wide and steady, carrying us lower and lower, their thin membranes in parts almost see through against the sunlight. Sometimes, he dropped a little just to hear me squeak, laughter vibrating through his chest every time he rightened us smoothly and turned into an elegant curve. I peaked over his shoulder once, only to feel my stomach turn over at the sight of the city so far below, I quickly squeezed my eyes shut again and buried my face back in the crook his neck.

Finally, Rhys caught himself out of a gentle descent, his wings beating a few times until he landed on his feet smoothly.

Slowly loosening my tight grip, I cracked open an eye, feeling a relieved breath leave me when I saw the cobblestone only a few feet beneath me.

Lifting my head, I felt my heart rise softly as I looked up the façade of the townhouse made from sandstone we'd landed in front. The sun just caught the stained glass window over the door, the smell of the rose bushes planted in the small front yard soft and sweet. The roof with a huge round window in the attic glittered in the sunlight, and the windows on the second and third floor were opened wide to let in the gentle breeze.

Rhys leaned down, letting me slide out of his arms as he placed me back on my feet. I raised my head when he straightened, and my heart lurched and tipped over when I realised we were standing chest to chest.

Rhys stilled a bit, his head dipped to look down at me, dark hair dishevelled from the flight and still looking perfectly tousled. Something closed around my throat when his eyes flickered over my face, warm and twinkling a little, and I couldn't keep myself from swallowing.

Behind me, the front door was opened, followed by a deep rumbunctious laugh, and when I quickly looked over my shoulder, my heart skipped high into my throat as the source of the sound stepped into the sunlight, squinting and grinning boisterously.

The Lord of Bloodshed looked exactly like I had imagined based on the stories Rhys had told me about him. Tall; so tall he almost had to dip his head to the side to walk through the high door, wide shoulders and chest, body all corded muscle. Half of his dark hair was gathered in a bun at the back of his head, a few strands falling into his face as he walked down the steps, huge Illyrian wings tucked against his back as his grin made his eyes crinkle and caused the scar on the side of his face to shift.

He made it a few feet before noticing Rhys and me. He slowed before stilling on the spot, his grin disappearing a little as warm hazel eyes met mine.

Carefully, I smiled, soft and crooked. Behind me, I felt Rhys shift, straightening.

Another figure appeared from the hall that was dipped in shadow, though the darkness seemed to thicken a little as it shifted away from the tall male stepping into the sunshine. It didn't leave him fully, ghosting around his shoulders and the wings folded smoothly against his back, like soft whisps of darkness that followed the shadowsinger as he moved down the steps, amber eyes piercing mine.

Where the General's face was rough and more rugged, the face of the Spymaster was all sharp lines and beauty dark like death, but still, there was something gentle buried underneath as his gaze flickered over me.

“Cauldron's sake, can't you two wait?!”

The bright, warm voice drew my eyes away from the shadowsinger's, and a female appeared in the door, her scowl melting into softly widening eyes.

“Oh,”, she breathed, and I felt my lips rise into a smile without being able to help it.

The Morrigan, as Rhys sometimes called her like it was a title more than just a name, looked like sunshine. Her flowing hair really was the color of honey, her eyes a gentle warm brown, soft freckles on her nose and something like awe in her gaze.

Her lips, painted deep red, parted, but before she could say something, the Lord of Bloodshed moved. There was something strange in his eyes, something in his drawn brows as he walked towards me with big strides, and I could feel Rhys tense behind me. But before he could even open his mouth, the huge Illyrian warrior reached me.

Strong arms wrapped around my waist, and the Lord of Bloodshed lifted me off my feet in a warm, crushing hug.

My breath hitched, and my lips parted softly when a wave of emotions crashed over me. Thankfulness and relief and pain soothed, mixed with warm vibrating affection, so strong and jumbled, a little tightness built in my throat.

He felt different than Rhys; rougher, louder and warm and full of unbridled life, and –

Something surged in my chest, and I blinked hastily against the way my eyes welled. Because the infamous Lord of Bloodshed felt kind. Kind and gentle, and good.

“Hi?”, I whispered a little hesitantly, and a soft chuckle rumbled through the huge Illyrian.

“Hi.” I heard the grin in his deep voice, warm and rumbling as he squeezed me tightly before shaking me a little and causing a soft giggle to break from my throat. Then he slowly placed me back on the ground, holding me tightly for another second before straightening up, and when I raised my head, he was beginning to smile down at me, wide and unrestrained.

Movement at the corner of my eye made me tip down my head, and something shifted softly in my chest when Morrigan sent me a smile. It was bright and beaming, but her eyes were a little watery, and she moved without hesitation, wrapping me up in a hug so tight, I held my breath.

“Hello,”, she mumbled, her warm voice a little wobbly, and my heart tightened gently as I carefully wrapped my arms around her and squeezed back. She too felt gentle and good, but vibrant, like an orchestra rising into a striking finale.

Mor kept me in a ribcrushing hug for another second before pulling back, sniffling a little as she beamed at me, and I slowly grinned back.

“So that's her.”

The voice, so deep and low, sent a light tingle down my spine, and when my gaze moved, it met the shadowsinger's, his golden eyes piercing mine.

The Lord of Bloodshed crossed his arms in front of his chest, his eyes sparkling as he sent his High Lord a shit-eating grin. “Now I get why you kept her from us.”

Rhys scowled as the tall Illyrian sent me a wink, but a few feet away, the lips of the shadowsinger curved at the corners.

“Honestly.” Mor rolled her eyes, but she looked like she was suppressing a smile. I threw Rhys a look.

You know, he's right, I get it too. I sent him a wide, cheeky grin and raised my brows. Why you thought they'd steal me away? I mean; I'd let them -

Something shifted in Rhys' eyes; a growl rumbled from his chest as he moved forward, his chest pressing into my back, and my heart skipped and my breath hitched.

Mor furrowed her brows, but her lips twitched. “Are you alright?”

Rhys huffed as he stared down at me, but it almost looked like he was pouting, so much so, something tipped over in my chest, and I started to beam up at him, wide and cheeky.

Something in Rhys' glare shifted, became soft and bright. Then he blinked, and my heart tumbled gently against my ribs when he tore his eyes away from mine and grumbled under his breath: “I just remembered why I have been putting this off for so long.”

Both Illyrians rolled their eyes in unison, the General flipping him off easily while the Spymaster's lips twitched, and Rhys returned the foul gesture before looking down at me, his eyes twinkling even though he gave a dramatic, long-suffering sigh as he raised his brows.

“Starshine, meet my irritating and nosy family. These are Mor, Cassian and Azriel.”

Mor beamed at me, Azriel dipped his chin lightly, and Cassian bowed his head with a cheeky wink. I slowly grinned back, feeling something hop against my ribs. Then I blinked and blurted: “It's really good to finally meet you, but I'm starving -”

Cassian snorted and started to laugh, his head tipping back as his shoulders shook, and Azriel pushed past him, his lips curving when he blinked into the sun, mumbling: “Looks to me like she's going to fit in just fine.”

☆

Blinking into the sun, I dropped my head when something cool brushed over my shoulder, and Azriel sat down next to me and handed me something.

My heart skipped and my lips parted in surprise at the sight of the waffle wrapped in a paper napkin, sprinkled with powered sugar. There was a café in the alley to our right that sold them, and even though earlier at breakfast, Mor had ordered half the menu, the smell whafting from it when we'd passed it a little while ago had made me look at the window wistfully.

“Thank you.” I looked up at the shadowsinger, still a little wide-eyed and surprised, and there was a soft chuckle from next to me that made my heart skip.

“Bribery.”

“Hey, shut up.” I felt my lips curve into a bright smile without being able to help it, quickly kicking Rhys' shin. He was sitting on my other side and squinted against the sun, cheek creasing. He looked completely relaxed, his skin glowing in the warm light as he lounged on the bench, his arm draped over the backrest behind me. “You're just jealous that he didn't bring you one.”

“Yes, as his High Lord, that does make me wonder.” Rhys narrowed his eyes in mock thought, and Azriel huffed, his lips quirking as he blinked into the sun.

Breathing in the sweet smell of flowers, I plucked off a corner of the still warm waffle, the sweet dough melting on my tongue as I blinked into the sunlight. Something warm was pulsing in my chest as I let my gaze wander over the little square surrounded by big, sandstone buildings.

Mor was crouched a bit away on the cobblestone, talking to a female painting the ground with a beautiful sunset sky. Cassian was over at the fountain that wasn't carrying any water; instead, flowers were growing within, spilling over the edges, violets and lavenders and pinks mixing together with small white blossoms. He was playing with some children, who had seen the mighty warrior and had shied away until he had grinned widely at them. Now, they were trying to wrestle him down, his dramatic groans echoing through the square.

Next to me, Azriel leaned back, his wings folded comfortably behind him as his golden eyes moved over the square, watchful but relaxed. The blooming trees whispered in the soft breeze, petals chasing over the cobblestone, and I exhaled softly and felt something rise in my chest, fluttering and violent.

Gentle claws scraped over my mind's walls, and my heart skipped softly.

“You okay?”

Rhys' voice rumbled through my head, warm and relaxed, and my breath hitched as my eyes flickered over his friends, his family that had taken so easily to me, it felt like I had been with them since the beginning.

Blinking, I tipped my head back a little, looking up into the clear blue sky where even in daylight, the pale shape of the moon was visible, and that swelling feeling under my ribs grew.

It's beautiful, I whispered in my mind, turning my head, and my eyes met violet ones, bright and twinkling as they flickered over my face.

A whaft of warm, flowery perfume filled my nose, then Mor squeezed into between me and Azriel, sighing happily as she squinted into the sun. “Should we save him?”

I looked over towards where Cassian was buried under at least six little Fae children that were yelling and climbing over him.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Azriel's lips quirk as he reclined lazily. “He looks like he's got it handled.”

Cassian dramatically went limp. Then he stirred, sending children tumbling over the cobblestone laughing as he straightened up and grinned at them, and I giggled.

Getting to his feet, Cassian patted the head of one of the children and sent them a wink before beginning to walk back towards us, the children going back to chasing each other over the square.

“Is your back alright, brother?” Rhys watched him get closer, creases in his cheeks deepening. “I could swear I heard it crack when you got up.”

“I heard it.” Azriel squinted into the sun.

Mor sighed dramatically. “Tragic. The mighty hero is getting old.”

“I could take a look at it.” I blinked up at Cassian innocently. From the corner of my eye, I saw the others look towards me as I shrugged, pulling off another piece of waffle. “I deal with injuries of the elderly all the time.”

Rhys started laughing, his head dipping back, and my heart swerved at the deep, rich sound. On my other side, Mor was laughing as well, bright and causing her body to vibrate as the Spymaster grinned, and Cassian scowled, but his eyes were twinkling mischievously when he narrowed them and pointed at me. “Careful, little one.”

"You know she could take you, right?" Rhys was smirking.

I only squinted up at Cassian, feeling my lips curve cheekily.

There was a light pull on my sleeve, and when I looked down in surprise, my heart skipped gently.

A small Fae girl, just a few years old, was standing in front of me, looking up at me with huge eyes.

I could feel my lips rise, and sliding my waffle into Rhys' hand, I slipped off the bench, crouching down until I was on her level before sending her a slow, wide smile.

“Hello.”

The girl shuffled a little, her eyes sheepish as they flickered over me and the flowers still stuck in my hair. Then she held out her hand.

Something rose softly underneath my ribs when I slowly took the small paper blossom from her tiny fingers. Carefully, I placed it in my palm, staring at it. Then I looked up at her through my lashes and sent her a slow, cheeky smile.

“Want to see something?”

The girl nodded quickly, and feeling my smile brighten, I looked down again, closing my eyes for a moment. Then I dipped my head and gently, very gently, blew air over the blossom.

Golden sparks twinkled, making the little girl's eyes grow big, and slowly, before our eyes, the paper flower turned into a real one, its purple petals slowly opening.

The girl's eyes were huge when she looked up at me, beginning to beam, and grinning back widely, I leaned forward, carefully tucking the flower behind her small, pointed ear. Then I straightened up again and sent her a light wink, and with a quiet giggle, the girl quickly turned around, darting back over the square.

Staring after her with a wide smile, I slowly pushed myself up and back onto the bench. Then I raised my head, and my breath hitched a little when I found four pairs of eyes on me.

Mor's lips were parted softly, that strange vibrant awe back in her gaze while Cassian's lips were curving. Azriel's head was dipped to the side a little, a barely there twinkle in his eyes – and Rhys' iris looked brighter than the stars as he stared at me.

“What?”, I mumbled sheepishly, feeling a little heat bloom on my cheeks. Then I caught sight of the huge piece missing out of my waffle and immediately widened my eyes, glaring at Rhys. “Hey!”

☆

“I told you they'd love you.”

My heart skipped softly, and when I looked over my shoulder, Rhys leaned into the open doors, squinting into the low sun as one corner of his lips creased.

Something fluttered softly against my ribs.

“Well, I am very loveable.” I sent him a bright, cheeky grin, and Rhys huffed, the crease in his cheek deepening as he pushed off the doorframe.

Watching him come towards me, I blinked and turned back around, breathing out as I held my face into the warm, sinking sun.

We were back at the house that I still didn't quite believed was supposed to be mine, the window doors open to let in the soft evening breeze as I sat on the stone steps leading from the terrace down into the garden. The light of the sinking sun was dipping everything in a golden shimmer, faeries whizzing through the flowers and tittering happily.

Something brushed against my shoulder, then Rhys took a seat next to me, propping his arms onto his knees and squinting into the light.

“Are you sure you want to sleep here?”

I huffed softly. “I am sure I'm not keen on more flying.”

Rhys' lips curved, his violet eyes piercing the side of my face. “You're insulting my flying?”

“I'm insulting your need for aerial maneuvers.”

Rhys slowly began to grin. “I'm taking that personal.”

“Good. It's awful.” I barely held myself back from breaking into a wide smile.

Rhys' eyes crinkled as he stared at me. Then he blinked and looked over his shoulder. “The main bedroom is on the third floor. Everything's there, so –“

Something closed around my throat, and I quickly whispered: “Thank you.”

Rhys looked at me, and I stared back, trying to swallow against the tightness in my chest as suddenly, the words stumbled from my lips.

“Thank you for trusting me. With this, this city. Your family. And –“, I blinked, “for buying me a house, you - complete – maniac, who just does that?!” I exhaled a little tremblingly as something skipped and fluttered in my chest and I sniffled a bit, my eyes suddenly burning a bit.

Rhys stared at me, the muscles in his cheek working as his lips parted.

“Thank you,”, I whispered a little wobbly, and I could feel Rhys swallow when for a moment, he looked like a dozen answers were running through his head, things he wanted to say stumbling over each other.

But when he opened his lips, nothing came out but one word, quiet, simple and a little hoarse.

“Always.”

A soft shuddering breath left me as my shoulders sunk, and Rhys' violet eyes dragged over my face. Then he blinked, and one corner of his lips curved gently.

“Sleep tight, starshine.”

I swallowed, and Rhys got to his feet, sending me a light wink that made my heart swerve as he started walking down the steps into the garden. I could see the way his shoulders shifted, the way he stretched his neck a little, and suddenly, something dropped into my stomach.

“Wait!”

I darted to my feet, and Rhys stilled. Then he looked over his shoulder, and before I could stop myself, I blurted: “Stay.”

Rhys' lips parted, and hastily, I squeezed my hands into fists.

“I just –“ My eyes darted over his face; my heart skipped once, high, and with a soft breath, I felt my shoulders sag.

“I hate the thought of you up there alone,”, I mumbled.

Rhys blinked. Then the tension bled from his muscles, and his lips curved, just a little.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” I breathed out, my eyes darting over his face, illuminated by the sinking sun, his dark hair tousled, his iris a soft violet, and somehow, I managed to ignore the rising, swelling feeling in my chest.

The curve to Rhys' lips deepend, and he slowly turned a little, his eyes beginning to twinkle in the light as he raised a brow. “I can take the couch.”

My heart fluttered high, and I tried to not let it show, just grinning crookedly.

“What, this huge house has no guest room?”

“I thought I'd leave the details of which room becomes what to you.” The twinkle in Rhys' eyes seemed to grow as he slowly started to saunter back towards me, slipping his hands into his pockets as he shrugged casually.

“Convenient.” I felt my lips curve as the flutter in my chest grew sky high, my breath catching when I caught sight of the crease in Rhys' cheek.

“I'll take the couch.”

“No, you won't.” My voice was steady, maybe even amused, even though my heart was beating out my chest the closer Rhys got as I suddenly wondered what I was doing.

Rhys' eyes crinkled a little as he moved up the steps towards me. “What if I snore after all?”

“Then I´ll kick you.” I tried to keep my breathing even when he stopped on the step right beneath mine, almost on eye level for once, my heart missing a beat when I swore I could feel his chest brush against mine.

The crease in Rhys' cheek deepend. “So violent.”

I must've managed to deadpan, because he chuckled, a grin slowly spreading over his face. Then he blinked, and it dimmed, becoming soft when he mumbled, his deep voice a gentle caress over my spine: “Are you sure?”

My heart jumped against my ribs, and I probably should have listened to the warning of its irregular rhythm or the way my breath couldn't seem to stay steady.

But I just smiled back, soft and cheeky and crooked. “Yes. I'm sure.”

Rhys' gaze flickered over my face, and something shifted in his iris, the twinkle a little deeper as he nodded gently. "Alright."

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @stayinglow-exploringworlds @tcris2020 @lizziesfirstwife @brandywineeeee @t0uch-starved-h0e @sharknutz @valencia-rou @twsssmlmaa @waytoomanyteenagefeels @luvmoo @starrybeesandlibraries @corvusmorte @marmorjorts @bubnix @wallacewillow0773638 @ailyr92 @azrielshadows1nger

[xmorguekittyx]

Chapter 1 : 𝘽𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠 & 𝘽𝙡𝙪𝙚

master list

Pattering, the sound of the rain pelting the windshield and the whooshing of wind kissing her windows had her heart feeling like it was in her throat. The pulsing of her heartbeat, she could almost taste it. "The National Weather Service has issued a tornado warning in these following counties-", shit. It never sees to fail that while she was the most nervous, things would continue to get worse and worse. Strikes of lightening lit up the soaked pavement, there was at least 30 more miles before she hit Raccoon City outskirts. She should've postponed heading out of town, but Desmond needed some Blood BeGone soap, which she had been sent to go deliver. The storm seemed to put everyone out of commission. It was a crying shame, honestly. "-IMPACTS... Flying debris will be dangerous to those caught without shelter. Mobile homes will be damaged or destroyed. Damage to roofs, windows, and vehicles will occur. Tree damage is likely.  You are in a life-threatening situation. Flying debris may be deadly to those caught without shelter. Mobile homes will be destroyed. Considerable damage to homes...businesses...and vehicles is likely and complete destruction is possible.", Jesus, could things get worse? 

    They could; the storm seemed to be a little bit before schedule, her headlights illuminating branches and twigs laid over the pavement. The rain blurring the image as she leaned forwards, praying that the branches would grant her mercy and not wreak havoc on her tires. Surely, one thing had to go right, right? Maybe the gods could pass on a little favoritism. The road had to be cleared, but she would have to make it across, her eyes squint to try and find some distinguishable marker for her calling the sheriff's office once she gets back to the morgue. They should be able to stop traffic at least for the night, hopefully nobody has had to come through- a small gasp part her lips. Between the trees sat a blue Honda, the car having the trunk popped and, absolutely, nobody around. A sick feeling of unease crept up her throat as she eyed the car, analyzing, again, anything she could remember to tell police. Part of her wanted to jump out and make sure everything was okay, but the lights were shut off, she could only see it as her head lights shinned past it. It was just unfortunate timing; she could feel the gusts of wind trying to sway her car. Hopefully they had been picked up and just forgot the trunk, as much as that would suck; that was the best outcome. Especially with how bodies had been piling up at her job. 

   The anxiety she felt from the storm and car hit an all-time high as she heard the beginning of Nobody by Avenged Sevenfold start to play from her cupholder, jarring her already frazzled mind. The photo of Leon Kennedy flickering in her screen, it was from when her father had still been alive, working at the same police station Leon did. He passed right when Leon joined, but that had been a few years ago. No matter how much it felt like it was yesterday, time was moving fast, but she felt like she was being left behind. Her eyes glanced up at the road before she slammed on the breaks, a doe running across the street as her tires locked up, squealing as her phone fell into the floorboards. Hands fighting the steering wheel as she tried to steady the car and her heart. "I'll have a damn heart attack before I even make it back.", she sighed, her chest expanding to take in all the air she could. Nobody playing once more, had her nearly jumping out of her skin as she scrambled with the phone, scooping it from the floor. "Hello?", she held the phone to her ear, sitting in the car, she couldn't bare driving right now. Afraid was an understatement, it appears the gods found no favor for her, this night. "Where are you?  Harvy has been blowing up my office phone demanding I start up a missing person's report.", his airy and slow voice drawled over the receiver. "Well...", her eyes went back through the droplet covered window. "The roads are getting worse, I've been having some trouble returning to the morgue.", she felt the air build up on her lungs before letting it out in a huff. "Hey- Leon?", she figured now was better than never to tell him all the shit that had gone on tonight. "There's a car up here on mile marker 37, trunk's open and lights are off. It's parked in the woods a little off the shoulder. You think you guys could come check it out and clear the road?", if they would tonight, would be the real question. "I'll head out first thing in the morning, it's unsafe to be out there right now. You said mile marker 37? There's a motel just a few roads south of you. If I were you, I'd stop in for the night, Kitty.", his voice sounded like honey poured on pancakes in the golden hour of sunrise. Hot coffee laying in the windowsill as the day started early on. Saying Katerina Visage had a crush on Leon Kennedy would've resulted in pink cheeks and embarrassed groans. Now, it left her wondering; what if? 

     "Yeah, I'll stop there for the night. I'll have to book it on foot, during this but-", her voice trailed off. "It's better than getting kidnapped or taken in a tornado in your car.", sometimes, he sounded like her dad. "It's... rough out here.", her voice was full of exhaustion. It felt like today had lasted the week, "You mind stopping by in the morning on your way to check things out? It would make me feel a little better just seeing you.", in all honesty, she was spooked. The storm, the car, the deer, the motel she'd never even heard of before. "Yeah, don't worry about that. First thing in the morning I'll be at that motel, waiting to take you back home. I'll get your car towed; Chief Iron's wouldn't want you paying for that.", he sounded like he was stretching, she was sure that it must've been a slow night for the men. The rain probably the only mischief Raccoon City had going on tonight. "Thank you, Leon. I don't know what I'd do without you.", her teeth sunk into the dead skin around her nails. "I guess I'm about to start walking, I'll message you once I get there, okay?", her voice was full of dread. The walk was not super familiar, especially in the dark with a nearly dead road. "Stay safe, Kit. Don't be afraid to call me if anything happens.", he had a soft tone with those words, Kitty remembered Leon being the rookie. She was 17 when she first saw the 21 year old, fresh from the academy walk into RPD. Her dad being one of the first to welcome him.

     "My daughter put up a banner for you, we've all been excited to have you join.", he waved to the circle banner that read. 'Welcome Leon', the 'e' in Leon was twisted but she was so proud of hanging it. Her smile wide as she also introduced herself to the man, starting a friendship that grew over a mutual shared space. 

     Her father's passing brought them closer together, her father was always close with Leon. He had been the one to train him on the job. "Just get there and pray there's a room.", she sighed, before grabbing her charger, her phone, wallet and keys. Her body had to tense as she placed her hand on the handle, taking a deep breath of warm air and dryness. She had to just hurry, it was just a coincidence the car was abandoned, right?

[lulublack90]

Prompt 31 - Insecure

@jegulus-microfic May 31, Word count 1101

Previous part First part

This is it, the final part. I hope you enjoy it. I'm just going to go cry that it's over. Love you all xxx

Sirius dropped down next to James and looked thoughtfully at his brother. 

“What is he? A, maine coon?” He tilted his head, trying to see all of Regulus. Remus leant over and traced the flickering star shape on Regulus’s chest and looked closer at the glowing eyes. 

“I swear I’ve read about a cat like this somewhere,” He screwed up his face as he tried to recall the information. 

Peter crashed through the trees and came to a stop beside them, his hands on his knees as he bent over and inhaled huge gulps of air. He looked over at Regulus in his cat form. 

“Oh, he’s cute,” He wheezed. Regulus hissed at him. “Sorry, regally handsome,” He corrected. Regulus let out a little huff. 

“I think he’s a Cat-Sìth.” Remus started, explaining, "They were these huge cats that lived in the highlands. They used to go and mess about with the muggle farmers, so the wizards in the area told the locals to leave out milk for them on Samhain so they'd bless them, or they’d dry up all their cow’s milk. There was also something about the muggles believing that the cats were really witches that could transform into a cat. And there was something about them stealing souls. But everything I read said that they were all black cats apart from a white patch of fur on their chests and eyes that glowed in the night.” They all looked at Regulus with scrutinising faces and nodded along in agreement. 

Regulus transformed back into his human body. 

“Ha! I’m a legendary myth,” He pointed at Sirius, gloating. 

“You might transform into a legendary myth, Reggie. But at the end of the day, you’re still just an itty bitty ickle pussycat.” Sirius took off running and transformed into Padfoot mid-step as the giant black cat of legend chased him into the forest. James couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him as he heard the unmistakable yelp of a dog being attacked. 

“We should probably go and break them up,” He said to Remus and Peter. They followed the sounds of barking and hissing through the trees.

“We’re going to have to add him to the marauders map and figure out a nickname for him now, aren’t we?” Remus chuckled as Sirius yelped again. 

“Yeah, I think we have to,” James grinned happily at the thought.

***

He was nervous. More nervous than he’d been on the night he’d first turned. He’d followed James, Sirius and Peter out into the grounds. It was still light, but the sun was rapidly sinking towards the horizon. 

Regulus watched James fold away the marauder’s map, now proudly emblazoned with the names, Moony, Wormtail, Eclipse, Padfoot and Prongs. They had decided on Eclipse after they’d pulled Regulus off of Sirius, because James said, with the white flash, he looked like a solar eclipse, with a tiny bit of light in the total darkness.  

The whomping willow reached towards them as they neared. Violently slamming its branches down at them. He watched as Peter transformed into the tiny rat. He scurried under the flailing limbs and pressed a little knot on one of the tree's roots. The willow froze, not even its leaves moved. The four of them slid into the opening at the tree’s base and dropped into the tunnel below. 

Regulus had to stoop to walk forward. He had no idea how Remus walked down here, he must have to nearly crawl. 

The tunnel finally opened up to reveal a door. Sirius pushed it open, and they stepped into the dusty, mouldy insides of the shrieking shack. 

“They send Lupin here?” Regulus asked incredulously. No wonder he’d caused himself so much damage. 

“Better than being locked in a cell made from silver under the ministry,” Sirius said blandly. Regulus turned to his brother, shocked. 

“Is that really what they do?” 

“Yes. Registered werewolves have to report there before the full moon.” Sirius replied. 

“But silver is poison to werewolves,” Regulus argued. Sirius nodded sadly at him. 

“That’s the point, Reggie,” Regulus’s eyes flickered to a spot on the wall behind Sirius’s right shoulder. There was a long deep gouge carved into the wall. His eyes widened as he realised what had caused it. 

“Just how big does Remus get?” He asked, feeling insecure for only a second as he pointed at the claw mark on the wall. Sirius grinned. 

“Let’s just say he makes me look like a puppy.” Regulus stared at him open-mouthed. 

They had to hide quickly when they heard Madam Pomfrey and Remus coming down the passageway. They ran up the stairs and hid in one of the bedrooms until Madam Pomfrey left. 

Sirius rushed back downstairs ahead of them and checked Remus was okay by running his hands all over him. 

“Sirius, I’m fine, stop fussing me,” Remus protested, pushing Sirius away. James pulled Regulus in close. 

"It won’t be long now, love. You ready?” Regulus looked up into James’s eyes and felt completely safe.

“Yeah,” He smiled, being completely truthful. He looked around the room at the four people in the world who truly cared for him and chuckled under his breath.

“What’s so funny?” James asked, his voice full of kindness. Regulus stood on tiptoe and kissed James before he answered. 

“I’m so glad I was out picking fluxweed while a crazed werewolf was running amok.”

“Hey!” Remus feigned outrage through gritted teeth. 

“It's time,” Sirius said, giving Remus one last kiss before he changed into Padfoot. 

Regulus watched through his new eyes as Remus dropped to the floor screaming and writhing. Sirius whined and danced about on his feet and Remus broke apart and reformed as a truly enormous wolf. Eclipse craned his neck to see all of him.

The wolf and the dog sniffed each other excitedly and Padfoot licked the Moony all over his face, wagging his tail excitedly. It took a while, but the wolf eventually spotted the cat. He let out a low growl, but Padfoot rushed to Eclipse’s side and whined at Moony, pleading. Wormtail scuttled forward and sat at Eclipse’s feet. Prongs came to stand behind them all, his antlered head slightly lowered in case he needed to protect them. 

Moony leaned closer, but Eclipse held firm. Moony shoved his nose into the white fur on Eclipse’s chest. Eclipse put his paws on Moony’s muzzle and stood up on his hind legs. The werewolf stared into the Cat-Sìths eyes, recognising him as another legendary creature. Eclipse purred. An approximation of a smirk crept across his feline face, knowing everything would be alright.