#he never recovered from a series of deliberate

[cyarsk52-20]

[pluckyredhead]

The Lost Titans in Canon: Rose and Eddie

Hello, friends! Are you ready to get your heart broken?

Rose and Eddie both joined the Titans during the 2006 One Year Later gap (when every DC book jumped one year ahead after Infinite Crisis) and first appeared on the team in #34 of the 2003 Teen Titans series. They're already buddies, at least enough to...hang out in the kitchen together, not facing each other and throwing oranges on the floor? This art is baffling:

What mind-bogglingly prudish teenager instituted that swear jar, let alone decided that "damn" was enough to qualify?

We later learn that Rose vouched for Eddie to get him on the team, apparently two seconds after having met him. Rose herself was on the team because Dick asked Tim to give her a chance.

Eddie is already protective of Rose, like when Cassie, uh...punches Rose hard enough to give her a nosebleed for the crime of being annoying.

Guys, you should...you should probably quit this team. I know it's just your first issue, but yikes.

Their second issue features a drunk Rose climbing into Tim's bed and trying to seduce him, and then Cassie showing up and everyone attacking everyone else, and then Marvin hitting on Cassie (I'm glad you're dead, Marvin), and it's pretty much just trash all around.

But it also features this moment:

Eddie has never recovered and NEITHER HAVE I.

Rose then confesses that she's afraid that the Titans will kick her off the team, since Tim doesn't really want her or Eddie around, just his real friends. (I could write a thesis on how Rose is afraid of being kicked out so she deliberately tries to provoke them into kicking her out, but this isn't the time.)

She hides it better, but Rose has never recovered from this, either.

Then Eddie gets hurt and Rose pulls they "Stay with me!" trope:

It has only been two issues! They're obsessed with each other!

But Rose warns him off:

Eddie continues to be ride or die for Rose, defending her when she's accused (falsely) of being a traitor to the team, and protecting her when his own dystopian future self shows up and tries to kill her. Also, Jaime joins the team and Eddie is wildly jealous of how much Rose seems to like him:

Rose 100% knows Eddie's right there and is doing this to make him jealous, btw. This is extremely explicit in the issue. She doesn't actually care about Jaime one way or the other (and Jaime tells her very clearly that he has a girlfriend).

Meet Rose Wilson! She has absolutely no idea how to cope with liking a sweet boy who is nice to her, so she spends an entire issue trying to make him jealous and making fun of him in a way that's genuinely mean! Oh, honey, no.

Between Rose blowing hot and cold, Tim and Cassie being just incredibly nasty to Eddie all the time for no reason, and the trauma of, you know, having sold his soul to the devil and being functionally orphaned and all, Eddie makes a very bad decision. He invites a bunch of civilian teens to Titans Tower, where they promptly run amuck. The Titans are furious, and Eddie is left feeling completely friendless and about an inch from being kicked off the team completely.

That's when he's approached by the Terror Titans, a team of teenage edgelords led by the Clock King, who DC was trying to make into a cool scary villain by having him *checks notes* fuck teenage girls and constantly murder people on-page as gorily as possible. This whole storyline is trying so, so hard to be cool and edgy but it's just incredibly tiresome.

Anyway Eddie recognizes that actually all these people suck, and refuses to join them and betray the Titans. So they kidnap him and Clock King proceeds to torture him.

Meanwhile, the Terror Titans attack Titans Tower. The only people there are Wendy and Marvin, who are non-combatants, and Rose. Rose defeats every member of the Terror Titans, gets Wendy and Marvin to safety, and then, beat to hell, walks back into Titans Tower to fight the Terror Titans again. Why?

THEY'VE GOT EDDIE.

Rose drags herself back into the Tower, hurt and bleeding, to beat Eddie's location out of the Terror Titans. It's such a good gender reversal of this trope, where the damsel in distress is an eldritch horror and the grizzled warrior coming to his rescue is a teenage girl. The execution of every single bit of this story is absolutely awful and unreadably stupid, but the idea in there is so good! Theoretically!

The Terror Titans manage to escape Rose's wrath, but Rose follows them to where Eddie is being kept: an underground cage fighting ring for captured teenage metas. The Teen Titans also realize what's happening and show up to rescue Eddie as well.

Rose saves Cassie's life and defeats Clock King, but Cassie is still like "Rose is crazy and dangerous and shouldn't be on the team" and Tim's like "Hm maybe you're right"...and Rose overhears.

Meanwhile, Eddie learns that Rose went apeshit when he was kidnapped, and is thrilled because maybe this means he has a chance! He shows up with flowers...

...and Rose is already gone. She's quit the team.

Rose is gone for about ten issues (she temporarily joins the Terror Titans, which is as unbearably stupid as you might imagine), and during that time, Eddie loses his powers and becomes just a regular guy. And then Rose makes her glorious return:

AND EDDIE LITERALLY SWOONS.

But Rose is not okay. She's becoming addicted to huffing adrenaline to enhance her precognitive abilities [insert eyeroll here]. Eddie, of course, is the one who notices:

I love that first panel in the last row. They've moved past the point where Rose can pretend she doesn't care about Eddie and Eddie can't tell the difference. The intimacy of that line (and that touch) - he knows her, and he's telling her so. UGH MY HEART.

Rose gets into another fight with Cassie, and it convinces her that she doesn't belong on the Titans. And, she argues, neither does Eddie, who has no powers and no training.

AND THEN THIS PAGE HAPPENS AND I HAVE NEVER RECOVERED:

Rose leaves. Eddie stays. And in the very next storyline, he dies. YOU SHOULD HAVE GONE WITH HER, EDDIE!

I'm not going to recount Eddie's death because I've done that already, but during this time, Rose had a backup solo feature in the Teen Titans book, and it included her hallucinating conversations with various characters. The last hallucination is of Eddie:

The next page is his last line: "...but that doesn't mean you'll never get another chance someday..." She doesn't know he's already dead. I WEEP. I WEEP ETERNALLY.

And that's pretty much the end of the canon Rose/Eddie story. Rose returned to the Titans in the next issue, but there's no scene of her learning or acknowledging Eddie's death - iirc she never mentions him again, which honestly I feel like is pretty in character. Her grief is private.

The comics Rose and Eddie appear in together are objectively awful. But somehow there's still a really compelling and heartbreaking little almost-romance in there, and now that Eddie's back in canon, I'd love to see someone at DC remember this couple, because they are so, so good together. (And imo much more interesting that Jason and Rose, who are functionally the same person and work better as two halves of the Eddie Bloomberg Defense Squad.)

Anyway if you also think they're neat, I wrote a sequel to The Lost Titans about them! You should read it: Five Couches Eddie (Tried to) Crash on After He Was Rescued from Hell (and One Time He Went Home).

[dropthedemiurge]

Love for Love's Sake | Things You Didn't Notice #3 | Learning Korean with the boys

I have (barely) emotionally recovered after the ending of this series, and so I'm back with my usual translation notices and cultural specialties posts ^^ Long post ahead!

// Read previous posts with translations & comments I pointed out //

This time I'll look at the Episode 3 [Yeowoon's Affection level from 0 to -99]. Disclaimer: I'm not fluent in Korean but I've been learning it for years and I've lived and studied in Korea for a while. However, in particular Sangwon and Sia annoyed me so much this episode because their banter is so funny but I cannot decipher their wordplay 100% by ear without KR subs so I have to skip over their dialogues %)

Anyway, there's still some fun language stuff to point out!

- "You're late, Senior (hyung)" - "Senior? (Sunbae?)"

Fun fact: Sangwon, who's the same year as Yeowoon, addresses Myungha as "hyung". Meanwhile Yeowoon addresses Myungha only as "sunbae". Hyung is a term guys call their older male friends (if you're familiar with Thai BLs as well, it's same as "Pi"), meanwhile gender-neutral sunbae means senior, someone who's been longer than you in the industry or some institution (like school).

If I remember correctly, Yeowoon keeps calling Myungha 'sunbae/senior' until the very end of the show. Even when they are sleeping over in the same house after school hours, Yeowoon doesn't call Myungha hyung but sunbae only. In Korea, you use titles or formal full names to people older than you or acquaintances, and you usually use names with the people younger than you. That's why, if you think about it, there wasn't a moment in show when Yeowoon says Myungha's name :D Only sunbae. And that's normal. (this is also why Myungha never mentions Writer sunbae's name at all)

Also, we'll return to Myungha's usage of Yeowoon's name a bit later.

"Keep doing it if you want to die young, Sangwon-ah." "*gasp* You call me by my name when you're mad?"

But Sangwon is talking to Myungha in a very familiar way, using 'hyung' instead of 'senior' every time, making it feel like they are friends (and most of their interaction this episode revolves around Sangwon trying to make Myungha talk to him like a close friend as well xD).

Why is Sangwon so thrilled every time Myungha calls him by his name? Because there are many other Korean words you can use for people, especially if you're angry with them (ranging from the impolite 'this guy' to swearwords). But every time Myungha gives a casual warning to Sangwon who's annoying him, he still says "Sangwon-ah", which is how you'd call your younger friend who's just being a brat. No wonder Sangwon keeps pushing Myungha to get his attention and affection^^

On the topic of names and intonation: I noticed Myungha uses aegyo (acting cute) often when he talks to his grandma. However, with other school students, like I mentioned in my previous language posts, most of the time his speech feels like a patronizing talk of a 29-y.o. adult.

But! I found that one scene when Myungha is deliberately using aegyo with Yeowoon! The reason for it is that Yeowoon finally responded and wanted to meet up after avoiding him for so long, and Myungha is extremely excited.

"Yeowoon-ie, you're waiting for hyung?~" "Don't use that voice".

Two things: Myungha calls himself Yeowoon's "hyung" which feels closer than "sunbae", he wanted to take the next step and make their communication less formal. And instead of saying friendly "Yeowoon-ah" like he always does, he changed the pronunciation of his name to "Yeowoon-ie" — which is, together with the playful intonation in his voice, is so. fucking. cute. However, Yeowoon instantly rejected his aegyo and Myungha returned to the way he always spoke x) RIP.

I already pointed it out briefly in another post but – Myungha cooked a curry rice for dinner with Yeowoon. It might not seem like anything, but I thought it was an amazing detail to show later in the series that even when Yeowoon almost forgotten about Myungha who disappeared, he kept bulk buying rice with curry (yellow packages) for his dinner.

"You act like you're my parent (guardian)." "Well, you're not wrong."

I thought that Myungha telling Yeowoon he's not wrong about him being his "parent" was a bit weird, and indeed, the word they are using here is 보호자 (bohoja), which is "guardian". It can be said about parents but also about anyone who's protecting something or someone as well. Which is exactly what Myungha is striving to do in this world and in this game. To protect and take care of Yeowoon.

"My mom split (ran away) but my dad said she died." "I wish I could split (run away)... I kept running around the field because I felt frustrated. But how could I run away?"

Here I'll need some help from native English speakers, which I'm not, can 'split' be used in this dialogue with the same connotation? Because in Korean, Myungha clearly says "My mom ran away", to which Yeowoon responds "I wish I could run away" and immediately remembering about the reason why he became a runner. And I just loved the accent the show made on this word, which got lost in Gaga subs.

"Don't slack off because you think no one sees." "Maintain your image (Do some mental training)"

This one is surely a mistranslation. The coach says "Do Image Training", in Korea and in some other Asian countries, as far as I encountered this term, this basically means "mental training", or "meditation" and has nothing to do with maintaining one's reputation.

Think "breathe in, breathe out and think how well you'll do and imagine yourself running that race before it starts".

Yeah, probably no one cared about that dialogue or scene anyway, but I hope you're still enjoying my hyperfixation on this show xD Anyway, it's been a long post and I'm done for Episode 3 — but as a bonus, let me share bonus with one of the Sangwoon x Sia scenes.

+

I tried hard to figure out the word that Sia uses when Myungha pleads her to get rid of Sangwoon, and the closest I could get was 분력 (the power of Buddha), but one thing for sure — following Myungha's begging, Sia cross-sprayed Sangwoon with perfume like holy water and ordered him like "Begone, demon!". Lmao :D

[marmota-b]

Glitch IS meant to be Force sensitive, here's why

Clone Trooper Glitch Who Is Definitely Force Sensitive.

As far as I can tell, everyone has fallen in love with that idea and everyone is now saying "Glitch is Force sensitive and you can't convince me otherwise."

Listen, what if I can actually convince you he is, with literary analysis?

I don't think I've ever seen this particular angle discussed (not that I have looked too hard, but no one ever brings it up when talking about Glitch). Everyone just loves the idea that he's Force sensitive because it's a lovely / exciting idea. And, okay, it's never stated outright in the source material, so there's some room for doubt. (And it was obviously intentionally left open-ended.)

BUT

I think the subtext, for those who know what it is, is so thick it might as well be an open admission of authorial intent. You see, Glitch's comic, Defenders of the Lost Temple, is drawing heavily on the Knights of the Old Republic comics in its lore. The Gauntlet they're sent to recover comes from that series. The moon where it resides is named after one of the characters from the series and likely is the moon he moved to at the end of his arc, and there's a statue of him there. There are all these deliberate, easily proven links to the series.

And there's also the less direct but still present parallel of questioning whether Jedi should be fighting in a war at all - Knights of the Old Republic (comics) takes place at the beginning of the Mandalorian Wars when some Jedi went to fight and others argued that wasn't their place, and some people get caught in the conflict without ever wanting to. That's a more dubious connection, and may not have been deliberate, but...

That is - the writer knew what he was doing here, in relation to previously published material.

The main protagonist of that series is Zayne Carrick.

Zayne is a sort of off-beat Jedi (well, almost-Jedi). He is just about Force sensitive enough to be admitted to the Jedi Order. He has "a special relationship with the Force." His special relationship with the Force mainly manifests in him being very clumsy and having the worst sort of luck. No one really thinks he'll make it as a Jedi. His own fellow padawan friends don't think he'll make it as a Jedi. But he's so good and caring and trying. And in the long run, he learns to work with his bad luck, and it turns out it's not so much a bad luck as the Force working... as a sort of swing, around him, with a balance of good and bad events. Things rarely work out as expected, but he learns to expect the unexpected. And once he does, and learns to ride the waves instead of trying to swim against the current, it actually works mainly in the heroes' favour.

Does that remind you of anyone?

Yep.

I'm pretty sure Glitch is a deliberate callback to Zayne Carrick and his special relationship with the Force.

I don't know if he started out that way from the start, or if the idea of "what if a clone was Force sensitive" came first and this theme just slotted into place later (honestly, the latter is probably likelier). But it's undeniably there; with all the other references to KOTOR, it's unlikely the author would have missed the main protagonist's character arc re: Force sensitivity.

Glitch has a special relationship with the Force exactly like Zayne's. He just has, unlike Zayne, also the bad luck of never having been tested for Force sensitivity. (This is all EU/Legends. Don't expect New Canon to stick to any of the above.)

[brandyllyn]

Silk from their soul (20)

The Ghoul / Cooper Howard x f!reader [no use of y/n]

Rated: T Words: 2k Summary: Interception

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

She doesn’t make it fucking easy for him.

He’d thought her tame, a little naïve, too soft for the world as it was. It made sense, she was a throwback, like him, from a gentler time when you didn’t have to scratch and claw and kill your way to tomorrow.

But just like him, she had a stubborn streak.

He’d relieved her of his gear while she slept off the effects of the tranq. He’d already recovered his hat and coat from that poor girl he’d scared the living daylights out of. His bounty had been nice enough to restock for him and he’d added the various sundries to his stash. Then he’d thrown her over his shoulder and headed east. No use wasting daylight. 

He’d trussed her up like a Sunday roast when he made camp. There had been a small amount of hesitation when he ran his hands over her body, reaching under her skirts to check there would be no surprises when she woke up spitting mad.

And boy did she.

She rolled to her knees immediately, bound hands not slowing her down one bit. He’d be the first to admit that seeing her like that, eyes flashing fire while she knelt in the dirt, made his blood stir. 

He was still a man, after all.

“Mrph mmrmm hrffnnn.”

“What was that?” He holds a mocking hand to his ear, “I didn’t quite catch it.”

She glares and he grins in return. The handkerchief in her mouth, tied into a knot behind her head, had been a last minute idea. But judging by that look on her face she was ready to read him the riot act. He took perverse pleasure that she couldn’t.

“Mmrmnn hrjj oohlm-” her eyes widen and she chokes, body convulsing. Another shudder and she starts struggling in earnest, eyes bulging.

“Shit,” he grunts, striding over and dropping to a knee next to her. He cuts at the bandana with a knife, using his other hand to pull it away.

She fucking head butts him.

He sees stars even as she’s scrambling away, getting her feet under her and sprinting off into the night. It takes him only a second to catch up, grabbing her by the back of her dress and slamming her into the wall so hard her teeth clack together and her head bounces off the brick.

“Nice bit of acting,” he tells her, a touch breathless, “suppose you got that from your donor?”

She spits in his eye. “Fuck you.”

With deliberate calmness he wipes it off with his fingers, turning his hand and shoving them into her mouth. “We already did, or did you forget?”

He pulls back before she can bite down, and a good thing too. He’d have been two short if he’d waited any longer. She’s got fire in her eyes and her breasts are pressing to his chest with each shuddering exhale she lets out. 

He’s never wanted to fuck anyone so badly in his life.

One of his hand clamps on the back of her neck and he jerks her face up to meet his eyes. Those full pink lips are calling out to him, the scent of her sinking into his bones and for a moment he thinks he might do anything she says. Fall to his knees right there and worship her.

“You promised,” she whispers shakily and he tilts his head in a question. “No kissing. You promised. Or was that a lie too?”

“You really going to play the ‘who lied to who’ game with me, darlin’?”

“I never lied to you.”

She looks so sincere, so beautiful, he has to let her go. Has to take a step back and clear his head. “You’d be the first not to.”

She sags back against the wall, eyes closing. “Ever think that might be a flaw with you?”

A laugh barks out of him and for a moment their eyes meet with something almost like a smile. Then she wavers, her eyes cutting away. “So you’re really going to do it? Turn me in?”

“If it’s not me it’ll be someone else. The caps he’s put on your head - ain’t no where you can hide from that.”

“Not on my own.”

Something twists inside of him. She sounds so lost that for a second he forgets that she’s the one who ran away from him. That she’d left him fuck-drunk and stupid and taken his gear. Stolen his caps.

He wants to tell her she should have thought of that before she fucked him over.

But her eyes have turned misty, a hiccuping sob escaping her and she slides down the wall until she’s huddled on the ground, face buried in her hands. He ain’t stupid enough to get close to her again but he offers her what comfort he has.

“Ah darlin’, it ain’t as bad as all that.” She peeks at him from between her fingers even as he crouches nearby. “This Nero guy wants you unharmed, that’s probably a good sign.”

“Has it occurred to you that he only wants that so he can hurt me himself?”

Apparently it hadn’t because the thought makes him frown. He idly scoops up a small rock and studies it. “Is that true?”

“He wants me to be his wife.”

Even he’s not enough of an ass to insist that might be a good thing. He sighs as he tosses the rock away. “Could be worse though.”

“Locked in a room and raped whenever he remembers I exist? Please, enlighten me as to how.”

“Tortured,” he offers after a moment.

“How like a man to think rape isn’t torture.”

That knocks the wind out of him and he rises, taking a step away and looking out at the desert. He knew he’d done worse things to people. Hell, he’d done exactly this to some number over the years - returning women to less than exemplary situations. And sometimes men too.

But none of them knew his name.

“Darlin’,” he starts with a rough sigh but she cuts him off.

“Please leave me alone,” she whispers. “I won’t - I’m not going to fight you anymore just please… leave me alone.”

He does.

☢ ☢ ☢

The next day dawns and she’s still there, curled into a ball at the wall. She doesn’t meet his eye when he pulls her to her feet with a hand under her elbow. And she doesn’t say a word when he offers her water, obediently tilting her head back while he pours for her.

“Darlin’,” he tries again but she moves away.

“East, right? The Stateline?”

She doesn’t wait for his response, trekking off with her hands bound in front of her. He trails after her with a frown.

“Why’d you run off before?”

She stumbles and he’s by her side in an instant, helping her up. She doesn’t acknowledge him, continuing on as soon as she has her feet under her.

“Wouldn’t you?”

“Well we’ve already determined I’m my own kind of asshole, but why’d you do it?”

“I wasn’t going to let you turn me in.” She laughs, the sound raw and sad, “And look at where that got me.”

His eyes narrow on her back. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I found the reward poster, not like you were trying to hide it. I figured I should make my break before I was no longer able to.”

Well shit. That put a whole ‘nother spin on things.

He grabs at her arm, pulling her to a stop. “You weren’t planning it from the start?”

“Planning what?” she looks at him incredulously. “That I’d wake up one morning to find you waiting for me? That I made it rain leeches or had that deathclaw track us? No, no, you’re right, I’m a criminal mastermind. I got myself shot so I could lure you into my bed and…” she runs out of steam and he notices a tear slipping from the corner of her eye. “Yeah, that’s it. I let you do all those things to me just so I could steal two guns I could buy at any trader and a nasty hat.”

Well, when she put it that way…

“My hat ain’t nasty.”

“It smells,” she says with a sniffle before turning away from him. “And so do you.”

He knew he didn’t exactly smell like petunias but it still stung. And he knew he was focusing on that to avoid the looming issue he wasn’t ready to face.

This was all his fault.

“Got my caps too.”

That got her riled up. “You and your fucking caps. I hope you choke on one. No, I hope someone shoves one up that hole of a nose you have and-”

He was interested to see where she would go with that but a cough cuts her off and he realizes he’s let his guard down. Has let someone sneak up on them - again. Three men, two aiming their shotguns at him and the last, the last is aimed squarely at her.

And unlike the last group, these three look like they know what they’re doing.

“Well fuck me, if it ain’t the Ghoul,” the one closest says with a low whistle. “Thought you finally died.”

“Not yet,” he grins in return, keeping his hands where they can see them. He wouldn’t ordinarily bother, he would survive most things, but he wasn’t about to risk her life again.

“Good for you. Unfortunately, I have some bad news too.”

Yeah, they were gonna start shooting any moment. He could duck and cover, probably take them out with only a few shots to himself, but he wasn’t sure he could keep her safe. It was too open out here, nowhere to hide other than where they were.

“I thought you might,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. Next to him she’s taking deep steadying breaths, eyes closed while she whispers something to herself. He considers telling her… hell, he doesn’t know what. Goodbye maybe.

“This isn’t necessary,” she calls out before he can decide. She’s got that wide, friendly, smile on her face - the one she wears when she’s about to work that weird interpersonal mojo of hers. “He was taking me to the same place you were. Is there some reason we can’t all go together?”

They blink at her dumbly and he resists the urge to make a sarcastic remark. There’s about 5,000 reasons they can’t travel together, every one of ‘em worth more than his hide. But she’s still smiling, walking towards them now and giving them each her full attention in turn.

“I know that I, for one, would feel much safer knowing he was there. That I won’t come to harm.”

Ah, that’s the ticket. The men exchange looks and the one closest to her clears his throat. “Begging your pardon, but I’m more worried about him harming us.”

“Then he’ll give up his guns,” she says and he glares at her. “All his weapons. And I’ll come with you willingly. As long as you don’t hurt him.”

The three confer once more and then their apparent leader nods. “Fine. Tell him to drop his gun belt and kick it over this way.”

She finally turns back to him, head held high and he can’t help but think she looks like a queen. “You heard him.”

He grunts as he divests himself, dropping his rifle and pistol to the ground and kicking them away. He holds his hands up after, stepping up next to her. “Hope you know what you’re doing.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re welcome.”

☢ ☢ ☢

For updates follow and turn on notifications for @brandyllyn-writes

[thewalkingwillowtree]

Safe Haven

Series Part Listing Found Here

Neteyam x Original Na'vi Female Character

Summery: Seeking refuge, Xilä and her father venture to the lands of the Omatikaya clan, in the hopes that the Toruk Makto would be generous in allowing them to stay. This is her story about not only finding her strength, but finding love. 

Warning: This story contains smut, violence & abuse (please don't read if these topics will affect you)

Some characters have been aged up. Neteyam in particular is 23.

Xilä is my own creation.

~

Part 9 - Delicious

A squeal escaped Xilä when she was suddenly lifted from Neteyam’s lap. He sat her high up on his chest when he laid stretched out on his back. 

“Okay?” he asked, checking in.

She nodded with a little blush. It was one thing to be naked in front of him, but she was practically splayed right now- this was up close and personal. 

Soothing the skin of her outer thighs, he openly stared at the glistening between her legs- gold eyes darkening, nostrils flaring, lips licking in anticipation. 

“Do you even know how pretty you are?” he rasped, almost as if in a daze. 

Xi smothered a laugh. She’d never heard of one’s intimates called pretty before.

“Oh you think that’s funny? I’m completely serious, you know?” he teased with a low growl, leaning up to nip the flesh of her inner thigh. 

She hissed, and choked on a laugh.

“Come’re.” 

His large palms cupped her butt and pulled her even closer to him so that her spread knees landed on the grass on either side of his face- her core a mere inches away from his mouth. 

She felt slightly awkward. “Um, what do I do?” she asked hesitantly. 

“Nothing. You just enjoy it and if you’re not, we’ll stop,” he said, linking their tails together to give her some assurance.

When he spoke, puffs of air hit her directly, making her squirm a bit. “Oh, um…Alright.”

A shiver rocked her when he stared into her eyes and gave her a comforting kiss right against her soaked lips. 

He eased her into it with soft pecks and featherlight brushes of his lips. When she made no complaints he took it up a notch with little licks and grazes of his teeth. 

Neteyam groaned sinfully, because she was honestly downright delicious. “Fucking hell baby,” he mumbled, before instantly going in for more. 

At first, she simply stared down at the arousing sight of him between her legs while she got used to the new position and the sensation of his mouth doing wicked wicked things to her. But then her eyes were shutting closed and she was quickly and eagerly rocking in time with his ministrations. 

His pattern soon changed from gentle and slow to fast and deliberate. The flat of his tongue dragged along her slit over and over before he began to swirl, suck and playful nip her at hidden nub. 

One large hand curled to fasten on her hip, holding her firm to his mouth, the other sailing up to play with her pretty nipples. 

A loud arousing moan filled the air. Xilä arched, head lolling back and forth as her body rocked with pleasure. 

He was enjoying himself too it seemed- humming and smiling as he ate her out like a starved man, practically holding her up as she shook above him. 

Neteyam’s tongue was dangerous. A weapon, she thought. She panted and whined as she felt herself slowly climbing, getting closer and closer to the brink. 

With quick success he had her screaming and moaning out loud as if they were the only two people in existence. 

“Oh Great Mother!” she shouted when he sucked hard on her clit. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!”

She fell back, palms flat on his abs to help hold herself up as she ground against his mouth. 

His laughter at her use of human swears and curses, sent a rippling vibration through her. 

“‘Teyam! I’m going to- !” 

Eyes squeezed shut and mouth wide open, Xilä came with a cry. Her body convulsed and eardrums went muffled as she shattered above him. 

But her betrothed had no intention of stopping though. Not giving her a moment to recover, he was continuing his feast with vigor, desperate for even more. 

Xilä jerked in his hold in shock, hips twitching to get away from the overstimulation.

“Teya-mmm, wait wait- oh FUCK!” she screamed as his tongue made its way deep inside of her- the warm, wet appendage vigorously working her. 

Neteyam was ruthless. Even when she buckled, unable to hold herself up any longer- he still kept firm grips, speeding up his tongue even faster. 

“Oh- mmm. Please- ple-” she begged and babbled incoherently, panting as her body moved on its own accord- hips furiously rotating and grinding in time with the rhythm of his unruly tongue. 

Eyes rolling and brain short circuiting from sheer pleasure, she unconsciously alternated between biting her lip and crying out loud with her jaw unhinged. 

The moment the tip of his tail made contact with her swollen bud, the same time he twisted a nipple- she exploded. 

Her screams echoed around their hideaway and Xilä sobbed as a powerful orgasm rocked her body, causing tears to leak from the corners of her eyes while she spasmed uncontrollably. 

Neteyam greedily lapped and licked, helping her through the waves while she withered in his strong grips.

When she seemed to have calmed, he sat up and gently eased her down to the ground between his propped up legs. Her own legs splayed out behind him, thighs on both sides of his hips- completely limp. 

Xi hid her face behind her palms with a little mewl when his tented front accidentally brushed her swollen center. She was still overly sensitive and experiencing tiny aftershocks. 

“When we move in together, we're going to have to get to a place far from our families…and probably anybody else,” Neteyam thought out loud as he observed her, massaging her aching thighs with a stupid proud grin on his face.

“Mm-Why?” she asked, a bit muffled, from behind her hands as she tried to catch her breath.

“You’re a screamer, baby. I have to practically gag you whenever we’re at your place, remember? I’d be a dead man if I didn’t- Jxo would kill me in a heartbeat.” 

Her hands fell away, gaze locking with his. He smirked, enjoying the shifting expressions crossing her face- she was too fucking cute, he thought. 

“I- well..” she was clearly embarrassed. 

He laughed. “It’s a good thing Xi, I like that about you. See I don’t even need to ask you if you enjoyed just now....your loudness told me everything.” He bit his lip apprehensively. “You did enjoy it, right? You weren’t faking…right?” 

Xi laughed so hard she snorted, wincing slightly when her movement caused their fronts to brush again. “I was not faking no, I thoroughly did enjoy it, yes,” she said grinning. “Your face is a mess though, ‘Teyam.” 

His own grin shone through as he proudly wiped at the slick shining on the skin of his nose, cheeks, jaw and chin, licking the remnants from around his lips. 

“Where’d you get that sudden potty mouth from sweetheart?” he taunted in retaliation to her smartass retort- she had sure cursed a whole lot while he ate her out. 

“Ask your tongue,” she sassed in response, causing him to cackle again. 

“Oh just for that I’m going to make you come again, right now. No more rest for you Miss. Sass.”

They both moaned lowly when he suddenly tugged her hips forward to roll his bulge along her slit.

“Teyam,” she purred.

“Feels good, sweetheart?” he asked in a strained tone, speeding up the rocking- the friction causing him to groan.

“So gooood,” she sighed out, enjoying the look on his face as he used her to his liking.

Lifting her hips slightly to get a better angle, she was practically his pleasure toy. He worked her up and down the length of his shaft through his now soaked loincloth.

“Fuck,” he grunted.

Eyes darkening dangerously, he stared at the sight of them rubbing together before trailing up the length body to find her gaze. “Please Xi,” he asked hoarsely.

He was holding back she realized, he looked somewhat insane- as if he were about to snap.

She reached a hand out for him and in one swoop she was in his arms, wrist linking behind his neck for balance. Xi cursed under her breath when the new angle cause him to rub directly against her clit.

“Teyam,” she called, cupping his face as he continued their rhythm. “Do what you need to do okay?”

“Are you sure?” he rasped.

“Yes,” she whispered against his lips.

With an animalistic growl he was leaning her backwards and bending forward to suck a nipple into his mouth. One of his hands reached down to release the cords on his loincloth and toss the material away.

Xi wanted nothing more than to pushed him back and stare at his bare form all day, but he was in control right now.

“Ah- fuck,” she hissed when he bit her breast a little to hard. All was forgotten however when he was suddenly rubbing her directly along his velvety, bare shaft. “Oh Eywa!” she mewled.

“Fuck Xilä,” he groaned, burying his face in her neck as he worked her hips against his.

He felt hard, thick and smooth as he dragged his ridiculous length along her slit with deep strokes, from base to tip.

Xilä clung to him in desperation. She tried her best to catch a glimpse of the squelching mess between them, she could feel him smearing droplets of his seed.

Neteyam had tried his best to hold out as long as he could- he really did, but it was fucking difficult. Dragging her in for a biting kiss, his rhythm became erratic as he spiraled.

“Shit, I’m coming,” he groaned.

“Me to,” she panted, puffs of air hitting his lips.

They both came with cries of, “Oh God! Oh fucking hell Xilä!”

And, “Neteyam! Oh shit, shit, shit!”

Falling back and splayed out on the grass as they caught their breaths, they both grinned with little giggles of laughter, staring into each other’s eyes.

It was obvious they had thoroughly enjoyed themselves, their matching grins seemed almost permanent.

Xilä’s hand accidentally brushed the splatter of come on her stomach. Leaning up on an arm, she swirled her pointer finger through the mess in fascination.

Popping it in to her mouth, her tail did it’s usual happy wag whenever she had something yummy.

Neteyam gawked when she suddenly began to wipe and suck, more of his seed. Humming as if she were having the tastiest meal.

She froze with a finger in her mouth when she caught his stare. “What?” she mumbled, turning shy.

He shook his head with a wild smile. “Having a good time there?” he teased.

She blushed but rolled her eyes fondly. “I like it. Can I taste it from there next time?” she asked frankly, gesturing to his shaft.

His jaw dropped a little and he felt himself twitching at the thought. “Um, sure. If you want to.”

“I want to,” she said eagerly. “And can I try the hand job too?”

That had Neteyam choking on his saliva. He sat up and stared down at her.

“Xi…baby, please don’t take this the wrong way, I’m just being curious….but ah- have you been with someone before? Maybe back at Li’ona?”

She grinned. He looked a little jealous right now honestly. “Are you wondering why I know what a hand job is?”

He looked away with slightly purple tinged cheeks. “Maybe,” he said simply.

She sat up and straddled a propped up thick thigh. “It’s only ever been you, ‘Teyam,” she said, cupping his jaw. “I asked D’avi to educate me on a few things when we’d been fooling around for a while.”

“Oh. You can ask me from now on alright? I like it when you do,” he admitted honestly.

“Okay,” she agreed, leaning in to accept his peck.

“We are definitely going to have to clean up before heading back. Sweetheart, you reek of me,” he grinned, sniffing at her neck before making her squeal when he playfully bit her.

~

When Neteyam and Xi returned to Camp later that afternoon, he first made his way to the training grounds to check in on his trainee warriors. 

After wrapping up a few more of his responsibilities, he popped home to use the private spring behind their tent, happy no one was home at the time to smell him.

A few of his team members had given him odd looks during his short meeting with them. He knew he still had Xi’s sweet scent all over him. 

Grinning like an idiot when his mind wandered to his pretty wife to be as he cleaned up, he remembered their time spent together that day. They had used the little pool of water to somewhat clean up after a few more rounds of orgasms. Suffice to say it wasn’t enough. 

He was truly the luckiest man alive he thought. 

Neteyam redressed in only a clean loincloth rather than all his other articles, he’d be going straight to Xi’s later on anyway.

When he entered the main room again, he noticed his mother and youngest sister were home now. They were giggling and looked to be enjoying themselves as they played with a few of Tuk’s dolls. 

“Tuk,” he called, squeezing water from his hair with a clean drying cloth towel.

The little one turned her back on him, dropping the doll she’d been playing with to fold her arms with a grumpy pout. 

Shit, she was still mad at him.

His mother shot him a look from her relaxed position. Looks like this was his battle to fight.

“Tuktirey,” he tried again, crouching to her level. “I’m sorry baby sis, I was a real jerk this morning and you have every right to be mad……I promise I’ll make it up to you, however you like.”

She side eyed him, peaking in interest. “You have to say you’re sorry again,” she said with a sudden fiery glare. 

“I’m really really really sorry, Tuk,” he said earnestly. 

“And you have to take me for a ride on Buddy,” she continued. 

“Done. Deal,” he agreed, reaching out to shake on it, but she ignored his outstretched arm. 

“My friend Täylley wants a ride too,” she bartered. “And we want tricks…not a smooth, careful ride.” 

He hid his pained sigh. “One trick only.”

“Five,” she frowned. 

“One.”

“Four.”

“One, Tuk.”

“Two?”

“Fine, two and no more. Now come on, let’s shake on it.”

She grinned and jumped up to leap into his arms instead. 

Neytiri smiled fondly at her children, she enjoyed moments like these. Neteyam shot her an apologetic expression over Tuk’s head and she nodded to let him know it was fine and that all was forgiven. 

“Hey mom, where’s dad at?” he asked as Tuk settled comfortably in his lap, shoving a doll in his hand with the intention for them to play. 

“He is meeting with the council. They are reviewing the extension plans again.”

Before he could respond however, Tuk was quickly capturing his attention again. 

“Here Teyam, I’m the mommy and you're the baby. You have to pretend to be sick so Tsahìk can come and heal you. Mommy, you be Tsahìk this time,” the six year old said quite bossily as she swapped and handed out the dolls accordingly. 

~

The conference tent was probably the grandest one in all of the others of their village- including the Sully’s home. Its canvased exterior was a deep blood red, carefully dyed and woven by a team of the clan’s best weavers and seamstresses. 

Neteyam stared at it as he stayed hidden in the shadows of the night. He was patiently waiting for all the council members to trickle out. He knew his father always stayed behind to review his notes, or simply contemplate- take a break away from everything. 

The Olo'eyktan and the council utilized the tent on a daily basis, and so the interior was decorated just as grand as the outside. It was one massive room unlike other tents which were usually sectioned off into smaller rooms. 

Jake had had a well crafted, massive, high table built and installed in the center, which was surrounded by wooden chairs with upholstered leather seats and backs. It had taken the other members some getting used to at first, but they quickly adapted to the use of high chairs.  

The room was well lit and tastefully decorated. Maps, plans, holographic tablets, little bowls of nuts, seeds and dried fruit, all littered the surface of the table. 

Jake Sully sat at the head of the oval shaped table, peering over what looked like blueprints with a frown on his face. 

Knocking on a wooden beam, Neteyam announced his presence. “Sir.” 

“Hey,” his father greeted, eyes flickering to give him a once over. “You alright? Gwuyle said you had an emergency this morning.”

“Hm? Oh yeah, right. It’s all sorted,” Neteyam assured, momentarily forgetting he’d left in the middle of a team review. 

Jake shot him a knowing look, tinged with amusement. “Xilä’s, okay?”

Brain short circuiting for a second Neteyam huffed a little breath of air and rubbed the back of his neck guiltily. “She is, yes. How’d you know?”

His father simply shrugged. “I have eyes, son.”

Neteyam made his way over and took the seat adjacent to Jake. “She’s actually why I’m here. I- um. I wanted you to be the first to know but ah- I’ve made my decision, Sir,” he revealed, heart thumping in anticipation of his father’s response. 

Jake, understanding his words, didn’t seem shocked at all. If anything he simply asked, “Does she make you happy?” 

“Unbelievably,” Neteyam replied with a little laugh. 

“And you love each other? You’re both sure about this step?” 

“Yes,” he said without pause. 

A smile broke out on the Olo'eyktan’s face. “Then that’s all that matters.”

“That’s it? And…you’re fine with who I chose?”

“It’s not my choice son, it’s yours, but if you’re asking if I approve, then hell yeah. Xi will be happily welcomed in our family. I like her. I like her for you, honestly.” 

“Yeah?” Neteyam asked with his own growing grin to match his father's. It turned into a frown just as quickly however. “Dad. I’m a little worried about T'shteyo, though.”

“What about him? This is good. If it weren’t for Xilä still being tied to him, I’d have had his ass kicked out of here a long time ago,” Jake said in frustration.

“He is still acting out?” Neteyam frowned. He had been avoiding the man like the plague, purposely staying out of any gossip topics surrounding him too. 

“Acting out is a joke. The asshole keeps picking fights for no goddamn reason and he’s stirring up shit with some of the unmated women. How they could possibly sleep with a man like him baffles me….I want him gone.” 

Jake took a sip of the fermented fruit wine he usually kept stashed before offering some to his son. “When are you and Xi thinking of completing the bonding ceremony?”

“Soon,” Neteyam responded. “I want her to focus on completing her rites first.”

Jake nodded in agreement. 

“Sir, I don’t want this getting back to T'shteyo just yet. He’s going to know he’s about to lose the only thing keeping him here still and I don’t need him lashing out or trying to get to Xi……I need your permission to bypass the rules of getting his approval. I’m going to still have to ask Jxo and Sal of course, but- bindingly, she’s still his daughter.” 

Jake thought for a couple of seconds. “I don’t see why not. It’s fine with me. We’ll take it to the council under an oath of secrecy until then and we’ll just have to make sure both families keep their mouths shut.”

Neteyam smiled in relief. “I appreciate your help in all of this. Really, dad.”

“Of course....Neteyam I am so happy for you, son…God, look at you, you’re all grown up,” he said, staring at his son in slight disbelief. “.....Shit, you’re going to me all emotional now.”

They both laughed at that, shaking their heads at Jake’s theatrics. 

“Just wait till your mother finds out, fair warning.” 

Neteyam groaned as he slumped back in his seat, palm falling over his eyes. “Oh Eywa, she’s not the only one I’m worried about. Between grandmother, Salveen, D’avi and Kiri, I’m going to have a fucking riot on my hands. Oh God and then there’s Tuk.” 

“Yeah I don’t envy you right now,” his father joked, allowing him his slip of a curse word. 

Getting to his feet, he said, “Alright I’m going to head out. Don’t stay too late, you know mom will come get you.” 

“Yeah yeah and don’t come crying to me when Jxo tries to kill you,” Jake taunted, causing his son to freeze. “Oh you didn’t think I’d notice you missing from your room almost every night? You didn’t think I’d have an inkling as to where you might possibly be sneaking off too?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in amusement. 

Neteyam tilted his head to hide his sudden blush, giving a fake cough to cover up the embarrassment he was feeling at having his father know what he’d been up to. 

“Um- yeah, Jxo and I kind of have an understanding I guess,” he said sheepishly.

Jake’s ears twitched in interest. “And that is…?”

“If I don’t get caught, I don’t get killed.”

A bark of laughter echoed around the tent. “Well alright then.” He shook his head, “I am so not looking forward to when idiots start coming around Kiri and Tuk.”

“Dad,” Neteyam said seriously, because it was a fucking scary thought. 

“Let’s just hope they’re not as good a sneak as you, yeah?” Jake joked again, somewhat seriously. 

“Gee thanks dad,” he said sarcastically, making his way to the exit.

“Son,” Jake called before he left. “All jokes aside, thanks for telling me the good news. I’m proud of you and again, I’m happy for you, truly,” he said sincerely, getting to his own feet, to close the distance and give his son a fatherly hug. “I’m looking forward to officially meeting my daughter in law.”

Neteyam cleared his throat under the guise of feeling emotional. He patted his father back, returning the affection. “Thanks dad. For everything.” 

~

Sneaking into Xi’s room went without a hitch. Neteyam considered himself a pro by now- his dad was right it seemed. He hoped to goodness no idiot like him came around his sisters. He quickly shook off the thought. 

Xi was still up, despite the late hour- practising her sewing skills on what looked like a new craft in her hands. 

Sewing was Salveen’s pastime hobby, so it was no surprise to him when Xi asked the elder to teach her the skill. She had subtly mentioned her interest a few times, so he’d given her the nudge to try it out herself. 

Despite the clearly sleepy look on her face, she beamed at him when he entered the dimly lit room. 

“Hi,” she whispered, setting aside her project- tail wagging at the sight of him as she scooted to make room for him. 

“Hi sweetheart,” he murmured softly, crashing onto her bed and immediately tugging her into his arms. He nuzzled her neck with a deep inhale. “You smell delicious,” he commented. 

“Spider let me use the hot water back at the labs for fun. They’ve got weird things like shower gel and shampoo instead of soapnut balm or bark, but I like it. Apparently they brought enough with them from Earth to last them a few decades. And they have an indoor waterfall that they can control, too. It can turn hot or cold or even in between,” she said in wonderment as she stroked his slightly damp braids. “The human lady, Casey, even showed me how to dry my hair with her blow dryer device.” 

“That was nice of her. How’d you end up back there? I thought you and Kiri were going to the hot springs,” he asked, pulling back to see her face.

“We were but we took a detour and then Spider ended up showing us their updated dorm showers. It shoots jets now…but I didn’t like it with the jets though,” she said with a little scrunched up nose. 

He smiled in response, pressing a tiny kiss to the tip of her nose- one large hand sailing up her stomach to tuck into her top.

“They know by the way,” she said hesitantly. “Kiri was all grossed out because apparently I stunk of you, her words, not mine.”

“They would’ve found out soon anyway. I just hope they keep their mouths shut.”

“Yeah, they promised not to say anything. They are happy for us. Kiri says we will be sisters now,” Xi said happily.

“Yes. And you will be my wife,” he grinned. “Any regrets yet?” he teased. “I should probably give you the lowdown on what exactly you signed yourself up for.”

“Mmmmm,” she hummed, pretending to think about it. “Nope. Like Tuk says, no take backs. You are going to be stuck with me I’m afraid. I don’t think anything you throw my way will change my mind.”

“Damn,” he muttered in faux disappointment. “I guess you’re right….I’m going to be stuck with you for good,” he said, breaking character with an infectious grin, leaning down to kiss her. 

Her palm slid from his neck to cup his face, while he rolled on top of her completely, pulling her thigh up his hip. 

“You taste sweet,” she said, licking her lips as if trying to figure out what he tasted like. 

“I had a little fermented fruit wine earlier.”

“Oh, l like it,” she replied, serging up for another taste, sighing pleasurably when he licked his way into her mouth. 

The kiss was broken when she pulled away to yawn, causing him to do the same. 

“Tell me a story, please?” she asked sweetly, settling in against her sheets a bit more, hooking her ankle over the inside of his thigh. 

He smiled at her request. She was always asking about his childhood and the life he lived as an adolescent. 

At first when she began asking, he’d ask her to tell him something back about her own, but then he’d feel guilty because his were all good, fun, happy memories, while hers weren't. 

When he expressed his guilty feeling to her, she told him his stories made her happy, it was her own little way at reliving her childhood- her innocent rewrite and escape. And so from then on he indulged her whenever she asked. 

“Hmmm, alright let’s see...Oh I know a little one. So this one time- or should I say the first time Lo’ak decided to run away from home-”

 Xilä muffled a laugh behind her palm. “Wait, how old was he?”

“Three, four maybe? I was five at the time I think, but yeah he had thrown this massive tantrum and got put in time out as punishment.”

He paused quickly to explain to Xi what time out meant before continuing.

“So he packed up his shit- or should I say his toys, announced he was running away and went all the way to Sal and Jxo’s…who were right next door at the time,” he said with a chuckle, making Xi laugh too.

“Anyway my parents hadn’t noticed he'd left. But I did, I noticed…So I grabbed my little practice bow, and I headed out as if it were some far land I had to venture to find my long lost missing brother,” he said with an eye roll as if he couldn’t believe himself. 

Xi stifled another giggle.

“When I got there Sal was eagerly doting on him, feeding him the biggest fruit sweets I’d ever seen, pinching his cheeks and calling him handsome- it’s stupid, but I thought, this is amazing, I want that too. So I decided I was going to run away from home as well...We got busted not even five minutes after that,” he snorted.

“I remember when I first met Salveen, she said you two were always running away to her home,” she laughed.

“It was fun....But that first time though, mom was all worried and crying, hugging us as if we’d been gone for years.”

“You two are her babies,” Xi said softly. 

Noticing her expression, he couldn’t help but ask, “Do you want? Kids, I mean.”

“Oh, um. Yes…but-” she frowned. “‘Teyam, I didn’t have a very good mother, I don’t know if I’ll be any good at motherhood.”

“Screw her,” he said seriously. “You’ve got the most amazing mothers around you to help you through anything. Sal, D’avi, my mom, my grandmother and you’ve got me. We’ll figure it out together- when the time comes of course. There’s no rush and no pressure. Okay?”

“Okay,” she croaked, feeling a tiny bubble of emotion loge in her throat. This was one of the many reasons why she loved him. He never let her think negatively about herself- he was her biggest supporter. “I love you,” she said seriously. 

His expression melted. “I love you,” he replied in equal honesty. 

They laid there for another hour, whispering about their future, sharing ridiculous stories while they tried to stifle their giggles. Like a maddening force, they soon found themselves in a heated make out session that had Neteyam quite amused. 

Xi was going down for the count- she was tired and fighting sleep. He counted three yawns in the last few minutes he’d been feasting on the skin of her neck. She lazily dragged him back to her mouth- tongue pushing through the barrier of his lips. 

“Mm, okay. Bedtime,” he said, breaking their locked lips, far too quickly for her liking. 

“What? Why?” she frowned, wiggling a hand between their bodies to reach into his loincloth. “I thought we’d- hey!” she protested loudly when he gripped her wrist, halting her pursuit by pinning her to the sheets.

“Shhh,” he shushed against her lips, nipping her bottom lip lightly. He waited a beat, one highly trained ear straining to hear if Jxo had heard her outburst, shoulders slumping in relief when it seemed like he hadn’t. “You can’t get me killed just yet baby, I want to marry you, remember?” 

She blushed, hearing the human term for the mating ceremony. “Sorry…um can we continue now?” she asked in a hushed whisper, trying to grind on the leg between hers. 

He huffed an amused laugh, pressing his thigh against her bare center to give her a little more friction, causing her to moan quietly. “Xilä, you are a greedy little thing, you know that? I made you come five times for the day already. Six, if you count the little one.” 

“So?” she snapped, trying to wiggle her wrist free. 

“You’re tired Xi. You need to sleep baby.”

“Just one, please?” she pleaded, weaponizing her eyes, to peer up at him through her lashes. 

“Fine, but I get to choose how you come, and if you make a single sound I am stopping,” he threatened seriously.

“Yes. Okay,” she agreed, nodding eagerly, tail thumping along his skin, begging him to do something already. 

~

A child was being chased. Hoots and howls echoed behind her as she ran through the night. “Mother! Mother!” she cried out, trying desperately to catch up to the fleeing woman in front of her. 

An arm wrapped around the little girl's cloak, yanking her backwards as she flailed and kicked and screamed. 

“No! No! Mother! Please don’t go! Don’t leave me mother!” 

She fought hard against the hold of the person behind her, eyes locked on the silhouette of her mother heading straight into the Dead Forest. 

Not once did she look back. Not once. 

“Mother!” she sobbed bitterly, fat tears staining the cloth around her nose and mouth. 

The person behind her was far stronger. They dragged her pathetic form by the scruff of her neck. Hot scorching dirt burning her through her cloak covered body. “No! No!”

“NO! Let me go! Let me go!”

“Xilä! Xilä! Wake up sweetheart. Hey hey, you’re safe. You’re fine. Look at me! Eyes, Xilä!”

Xilä’s eyes snapped open, locking on a petrified looking Neteyam. She panted as hot tears rolled down her cheeks. She had apparently been pulled into a seated position because over his shoulder she saw Jxo who looked just as scared as she felt. 

“Xi, darling,” said a gentle voice.

Turning to her left she saw Salveen crouched right next to her, brushing her sweat slicked hair out of her face, concerned eyes tearing up. “It’s just a dream, alright? You are safe. Say it with me, Xi. I am safe.”

“I am safe,” Xilä echoed in a hoarse whisper, face crumpling in relief. Needing skin to skin comfort, she reached out to Neteyam who instantly pulled her into his lap, folded legs on either side of his. 

Face hidden in his chest, her arms wound tight around his waist while he cupped her neck with one palm under her hair, the other rubbing soothingly up and down the span of her back- her tail blindly finding and curling around his.

 “Baby,” he breathed against the top of her head, rocking them a little.  

Salveen sniffled as she continued to stare at the broken girl in his arms. “That’s the second night in a row,” she rasped. 

“What do you mean?” Neteyam frowned, head snapping to her. “She had one yesterday?”

She nodded. “I don’t know what could have triggered it. She came home crying but wouldn’t say what happened. Then she was fine. We didn’t come home until late, but by then you lot had all packed up and left. I don’t know if it’s related.” 

Neteyam’s ears flattened to his head. The only thing he knew that happened yesterday was her run in with Leati. 

“When was the last time she had one before then?” he asked. 

“Not for months,” Jxo answered, stepping forward with his arms folded to have a closer look at Xi. “Probably not since the first few weeks she moved in.”

“That’s right,” his wife agreed. “Tsahìk usually checked in regularly until they stopped- they still have their sessions of course which we thought has been helping.”

When Xilä stayed that first month with his grandmother, almost every night she suffered from terrible terrible nightmares. It was a side effect from her past trauma apparently. 

After he asked Sal and Jxo to take her in, Mo’at had sat all three of them down- along with his father who wanted to be present, to discuss Xi’s wellbeing. Her healing was not a one and done deal she’d told them. It would be a long mental and emotional journey. 

Mo’at had coached them through certain scenarios and how to help Xi through them. They were all willing and ready to take on active roles in her healing process.

Xi also had weekly sessions with the healer since then, where they’d talk through her past- helping Xi to open up and face old wounds embedded deep within her. 

“What are you doing here by the way?” Salveen asked him finally, scrutinizing the way he held her adoptive daughter. “Why did you call her baby?”

When she and Jxo had run over after being awoken by Xi’s cries, Neteyam’s presence hadn’t even registered to her. She was too focused on Xilä’s petrified state. 

Neteyam swallowed and looked down at Xi’s now sleeping face- her cheek stuck flush against his chest. 

Jxo rolled his eyes and answered for him. “The skxawng has been sneaking in almost every night, Sal.”

Salveen’s eyes widened when she realized what he was insinuating. “Wait- are you two...?” Her pointer finger moved from Neteyam to Xilä. “And you KNEW?” she hissed at her husband, pointing at him accusingly. “You didn’t even say anything! How long have you been hiding this from me?!” she whisper-yelled as not to wake Xilä. 

Neteyam watched amused as the big, gruff Jxo spluttered, pointed ears falling low while he tried to explain himself. 

“What exactly are your intentions, young man?” she snapped, cutting off her husband to zero in on Neteyam again. “I will not have you trapezing in and out of here whenever you feel like it. Xilä is not some-”

“I would like to have her as my mate,” he said, cutting off the elder’s ramble. 

Both Jxo and Salveen stared at him in shock. 

“It’s um- well for one, this is not exactly how I wanted to ask for permission,” he joked mildly, titling Xi down a little, so that she nestled comfortably in the crook of his arm- he didn’t want to put her down just yet. 

He sent a quick prayer of thanks to Eywa that they were both dressed when the two elders came rushing in because the glare Jxo was shooting at him right now would have had anyone else quivering. He knew if he were naked, it would have only made matters worse.  

“Jxo, Sal. I’m in love with Xilä,” he admitted sincerely. “I want to build a future with her. I want to take care of her and I want to love her for the rest of my life.”

Sal’s fingertips covered her lips, tears springing in her eyes while Jxo’s face relaxed somewhat. 

“If you could grant me your permission, I would forever be grateful,” Neteyam finished, his gaze darting back and forth between the two of them. 

“Oh, ‘Teyam,” Sal sighed out, as if it were the most romantic speech she’d ever heard. 

Jxo cleared his throat, avoiding Neteyam’s earnest expression. “I want to talk to Xilä first, before I give my blessing.”

“That’s fair,” Neteyam agreed, taming his smile when he noticed the man trying to hide his own emotions. 

“Come on Sal…let’s, let them rest,” the gruff elder said somewhat hesitantly. 

“But- but he just confessed his love and-”

“I know, I know darling, but it’s late and we all need rest,” he said gently, helping his mate to her feet. “Eywa knows I’ll need it to have to deal with all this in the morning,” he grouched. 

“Alright. Goodnight dear,” she bid to the young Na’vi while being guided out of the room.

“Night, Sal.”

“Keep your fucking hands to yourself,” Jxo warned in an undertone. “….And make sure she’s alright,” he said somewhat softer before leaving them alone. 

~

What do we think.....?

So, this chapter honestly was not planned at all. What is now Part 10 was supposed to be Part 9, but my writing kind of ran away with me and Boom, now this part is here.

It was getting a bit too long, so the ending continues in the next part.

If you're wondering, and little spoiler alert, her asshole father is back in Part 10. So some drama to come.

Also I'm realizing that this fic may turn out a bit longer than expected.

Anywhoooo, as always, please share your thoughts in the comments, I love hearing from you all :)

Tags: @jakesullyfatjuicypeen @granddearduck @riatesullironalite @strawberri-blonde @earthling55 @innercreationflower @duckworthbean @gyuventure @btsiguess-kpop

If you'd like to be tagged or I forgot you by accident, please let me know.

[the-moral-of-the-rose]

A tribute to the cats of Montgomery's books.

Part 1. Anne Shirley (later: Blythe).

Rusty-the cat (the fighter):

"The animal was well past kitten-hood, lank, thin, disreputable looking. Pieces of both ears were lacking, one eye was temporarily out of repair, and one jowl ludicrously swollen. As for color, if a once black cat had been well and thoroughly singed the result would have resembled the hue of this waif’s thin, draggled, unsightly fur." (Anne of The Island).

"But, like Kipling’s cat, he “walked by himself.” His paw was against every cat, and every cat’s paw against him. One by one he vanquished the aristocratic felines of Spofford Avenue. As for human beings, he loved Anne and Anne alone. Nobody else even dared stroke him. An angry spit and something that sounded much like very improper language greeted any one who did.

“The airs that cat puts on are perfectly intolerable,” declared Stella." (Anne of The Island).

(He does get better looking though! He's said to become "plum and sleek" and his eyes heal!).

A fighter,

Independent,

Daring,

A survivor of an attempt of "chlorophorm murder".

Joseph-the-cat (a big fat softie that could fight if needed):

"Joseph, as the disgusted Stella said, looked like a walking rag-bag. It was impossible to say what his ground color was. His legs were white with black spots on them. His back was gray with a huge patch of yellow on one side and a black patch on the other. His tail was yellow with a gray tip. One ear was black and one yellow. A black patch over one eye gave him a fearfully rakish look. In reality he was meek and inoffensive, of a sociable disposition. In one respect, if in no other, Joseph was like a lily of the field. He toiled not neither did he spin or catch mice. Yet Solomon in all his glory slept not on softer cushions, or feasted more fully on fat things." (Anne of The Island).

"But Joseph rashly sat up and yawned. Rusty, burning to avenge his disgrace, swooped down upon him. Joseph, pacific by nature, could fight upon occasion and fight well. The result was a series of drawn battles. Every day Rusty and Joseph fought at sight. Anne took Rusty’s part and detested Joseph. Stella was in despair. But Aunt Jamesina only laughed." (Anne of The Island).

Joseph-with-a-coat-of-many-colors,

soft bean,

non-offensive,

sweet,

meek and gentle,

could fight if needed.

Sarah-the-cat (dignified queen):

"Sarah-cat gravely sat herself down before the fire and proceeded to wash her face. She was a large, sleek, gray-and-white cat, with an enormous dignity which was not at all impaired by any consciousness of her plebian origin. She had been given to Aunt Jamesina by her washerwoman.

“Her name was Sarah, so my husband always called puss the Sarah-cat,” explained Aunt Jamesina. “She is eight years old, and a remarkable mouser. Don’t worry, Stella. The Sarah-cat never fights and Joseph rarely.” (Anne of The Island).

"Rusty lowered his head, uttered a fearful shriek of hatred and defiance, and launched himself at the Sarah-cat.

The stately animal had stopped washing her face and was looking at him curiously. She met his onslaught with one contemptuous sweep of her capable paw. Rusty went rolling helplessly over on the rug; he picked himself up dazedly. What sort of a cat was this who had boxed his ears? He looked dubiously at the Sarah-cat. Would he or would he not? The Sarah-cat deliberately turned her back on him and resumed her toilet operations. Rusty decided that he would not. He never did. From that time on the Sarah-cat ruled the roost. Rusty never again interfered with her." (Anne of The Island).

Dignified,

Queenly,

Aloof,

A remarkable mouser,

Proud,

Ruler of the Patty's Place.

Such a queen.

Shrimp (best-family-cat):

"He seems to have recovered nicely from it," said Anne, stroking the glossy black-and-white curves of a contented pussy with huge jowls, purring on a chair in the firelight. [...] As for the Shrimp, Gilbert had called him that a year ago when Nan had brought the miserable, scrawny kitten home from the village where some boys had been torturing it, and the name clung, though it was very inappropriate now." (Anne of Ingleside).

Loves people,

good with children,

likes sleeping curled up with a member of his human family,

forgiving,

patient,

a little ray of sunshine.

Pussywillow (a little lady of the night sky):

"The Shrimp basked in the glow and Nan's kitten, Pussywillow, which always suggested some dainty exquisite little lady in black and silver, climbed everybody's legs impartially. "Two cats, and mouse tracks everywhere in the pantry," was Susan's disapproving parenthesis." (Anne of Ingleside).

Pretty,

Black and silver like a night sky,

Purring,

Dainty,

Sweet.

Jack Frost (a girl in hiding):

"Four years previously Rilla Blythe had had a treasured darling of a kitten, white as snow, with a saucy black tip to its tail, which she called Jack Frost. Susan disliked Jack Frost, though she could not or would not give any valid reason therefor.

"Take my word for it, Mrs. Dr. dear," she was wont to say ominously, "that cat will come to no good."

"But why do you think so?" Mrs. Blythe would ask.

"I do not think—I know," was all the answer Susan would vouchsafe.

With the rest of the Ingleside folk Jack Frost was a favourite; he was so very clean and well groomed, and never allowed a spot or stain to be seen on his beautiful white suit; he had endearing ways of purring and snuggling; he was scrupulously honest.

And then a domestic tragedy took place at Ingleside. Jack Frost had kittens!" (Rilla of Ingleside).

White and beautiful,

Clean and well-groomed,

Endearing,

Lovely,

Snuggler and purrer,

Mother of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde,

"Diabolical" cat according to Susan.

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (a cat suffering from bipolar disorder):

"In his Dr. Jekyll mood the cat was a drowsy, affectionate, domestic, cushion-loving puss, who liked petting [...] When the Mr. Hyde mood came upon him—which it invariably did before rain, or wind—he was a wild thing with changed eyes. The transformation always came suddenly. He would spring fiercely from a reverie with a savage snarl and bite at any restraining or caressing hand. His fur seemed to grow darker and his eyes gleamed with a diabolical light. There was really an unearthly beauty about him." (Rilla of Ingleside).

Orange and handsome,

Either sweet, purring, soft and cute, either dangerous and scary,

Possesed (?),

Some kind of mental illness (?),

A kitten of Jack Snow,

Called Goldie in his kittenhood,

Renamed by Walter.

Part 2. Emily Starr.

Mike the First (the fluffiest softie) and Saucy Sal (a badass girl):

"Mike had such a cute way of sitting up on his haunches and catching the bits in his paws, and Saucy Sal had her trick of touching Emily’s ankle with an almost human touch when her turn was too long in coming. Emily loved them both, but Mike was her favourite. He was a handsome, dark-grey cat with huge owl-like eyes, and he was so soft and fat and fluffy. Sal was always thin; no amount of feeding put any flesh on her bones. Emily liked her, but never cared to cuddle or stroke her because of her thinness. Yet there was a sort of weird beauty about her that appealed to Emily. She was grey-and-white—very white and very sleek, with a long, pointed face, very long ears and very green eyes. She was a redoubtable fighter, and strange cats were vanquished in one round. The fearless little spitfire would even attack dogs and rout them utterly." (Emily of New Moon).

Mike: soft, cute, fluffy, darling, handsome, purring, fat, cuddly.

Saucy Sal: a badass, fighter, brave, daring, sleek, green-eyed, gorgeous.

Smoke (the Aristo-cat):

"Smoke was a big Maltese and an aristocrat from the tip of his nose to the tip of his tail. There was no doubt whatever that he belonged to the cat caste of Vere de Vere. He had emerald eyes and a coat of plush. The only white thing about him was an adorable dicky." (Emily of New Moon).

Aristocrat,

Dignified,

Member of cat caste of Vere de Vere,

Eyes like jewels,

Dignified,

Beautiful.

Buttercup (a tiny cat-cherub):

"Buttercup was a chubby, yellow, delightful creature hardly out of kittenhood." (Emily of New Moon).

Delightful,

yellow ball of fluff,

cute,

small bean,

adorable.

Mike the Second (a cute furry grey demon of the night):

"Emily’s furry kitten, Mike II, frisked and scampered about like a small, charming demon of the night; the fire glowed with beautiful redness and allure through the gloom; there were nice whispery sounds everywhere. [...] (Emily of New Moon).

A gift from Old Kelly,

Cute, furry,

Charming, plump,

Fluffy,

Rescued by Emily,

A forever kitten,

Gone too soon.

Daffodil - Daff - Daffy (a life-long friend):

“The kitten was a delicate bit of striped greyness that reminded Emily of her dear lost Mikes. And it smelled so nice—of warmth and clean furriness, with whiffs of the clover hay where Saucy Sal had made her mother-nest." (Emily of New Moon).

"Daff," said Emily wearily, "you're the only thing in the world that stays put." (Emily's Quest).

"Don't you wish—or do you!—Daff, that you and I had been born sensible creatures, alive to the superior advantages of Quebec heaters!"(Emily's Quest).

Fluffy,

Grey,

Cute,

Nice,

Adorable,

Emily's friend and companion of her lonely years,

Snored loudly in his sleep during his later years,

Followed Emily everywhere,

My personal favourite.

Part 3. Pat Gardiner

Gentleman Tom (an immortal cat):

"Gentleman Tom sat beside Pat, on the one step from the landing into Judy's room, blinking at her with insolent green eyes, whose very expression would have sent Judy to the stake a few hundred years ago. A big, lanky cat who always looked as if he had a great many secret troubles; continually thin in spite of Judy's partial coddling; a black cat . . . "the blackest black cat I iver did be seeing." For a time he had been nameless. Judy held it wasn't lucky to name a baste that had just "come." Who knew what might be offended? So the black grimalkin was called Judy's Cat, with a capital, until one day Sid referred to it as "Gentleman Tom," and Gentleman Tom he was from that time forth, even Judy surrendering. Pat was fond of all cats, but her fondness for Gentleman Tom was tempered with awe." (Pat of Silver Bush).

Ageless,

Troubled,

Mysterious,

Fascinating,

Full of personality.

Bold-and-Bad (a mad-cat ball of energy):

'"Bold-and-Bad", the kitten of the summer, came flying across the yard to her. Pat picked him up and squeezed some purrs out of him. No matter what dreadful things happened at least there were still cats in the world."

"Even Bold-and-Bad, whom ordinarily nothing could subdue, crouched with an apologetic air under the stove."

"Sure and I will, Patsy darlint. Ye nadn't be fretting over Bold-and-Bad. He's living up to his name ivery minute of the day, slaping on the Poet's bed and getting rolled up in me shate of fly-paper. Sure and ye niver saw a madder cat." (Pat of Silver Bush).

Full of energy,

Mischievious,

Living up to his name,

Bold,

Bad-but-adorable,

Brave,

Unstoppable,

Always young.

Part 4. Valancy Stirling:

Banjo (a devilish philosopher):

"Banjo is a big, enchanting, grey devil-cat. Striped, of course. I don’t care a hang for any cat that hasn’t stripes. I never knew a cat who could swear as genteelly and effectively as Banjo. His only fault is that he snores horribly when he is asleep." (The Blue Castle).

Grey devil cat,

has his own chair,

rules his kingdom of Barney's hut,

a graceful swearer,

dignified,

Good Luck (a wistful philosopher):

"Luck is a dainty little cat. Always looking wistfully at you, as if he wanted to tell you something. Maybe he will pull it off sometime. Once in a thousand years, you know, one cat is allowed to speak. My cats are philosophers—neither of them ever cries over spilt milk." (The Blue Castle).

Dainty,

Wistfull,

Charming,

Enchanting,

Clever,

Interesting.

Part 5. Jane Stuart

Two Peters (little cuties):

"The Snowbeams told Jane their cat had kittens and she could have one. Jane went down to choose. There were four and the poor lean old mother cat was so proud and happy. Jane picked a black one with a pansy face—a really pansy face, so dark and velvety, with round golden eyes. She named it Peter on the spot. Then the Jimmy Johns, not to be outdone, brought over a kitten also. But this kitten was already named Peter and the Ella twin wept frantically over the idea of anybody changing it. So dad suggested calling them First Peter and Second Peter—which Mrs Snowbeam thought was sacrilegious. Second Peter was a dainty thing in black and silver, with a soft white breast. Both Peters slept at the foot of Jane's bed and swarmed over dad the minute he sat down."

"First Peter was sitting on the doorstone when Jane came downstairs, with a big mouse in his mouth, very proud of his prowess as a hunter." (Jane of Lantern Hill).

Cute,

Soft,

Adorable,

Lil hunters.

Silver Penny (small but mighty):

"Ding-dong had brought her a kitten to replace Second Peter...a scrap about as big as its mother's paw but which was destined to be a magnificent cat in black with four white paws. Jane and dad tried out all kinds of names on it before they went to bed and finally agreed on Silver Penny because of the round white spot between its ears." (Jane of Lantern Hill).

Beautiful,

Magnificent,

Adorable.

Part 6. Marigold Lesley

Lucifer and Witch of Endor (a devilish married couple):

"Of course the cats were present at the festivity also. Lucifer and the Witch of Endor. Both of black velvet with great round eyes. Cloud of Spruce was noted for its breed of black cats with topaz-hued eyes. Its kittens were not scattered broadcast but given away with due discrimination. Lucifer was Old Grandmother's favourite. A remote, subtle cat. An inscrutable cat so full of mystery that it fairly oozed out of him. The Witch of Endor became her name but compared to Lucifer she was commonplace." (Magic for Marigold).

Gorgeous,

Soulful,

Fascinating,

Witchy,

Subtle,

Almost human-like,

Clever.

Part 7. Kilmeny of The Orchard.

Timothy-The-Cat (Sir Timothy - the real head of the family):

"They have no living children, but Old Bob has a black cat which is his especial pride and darling. The name of this animal is Timothy and as such he must always be called and referred to. Never, as you value Robert’s good opinion, let him hear you speaking of his pet as ‘the cat,’ or even as ‘Tim.’ You will never be forgiven and he will not consider you a fit person to have charge of the school."

"The other end of the bench was occupied by Timothy, sleek and complacent, with a snowy breast and white paws. After old Robert had taken a mouthful of anything he gave a piece to Timothy, who ate it daintily and purred resonant gratitude." (Kilmeny of The Orchard).

Dignified,

With Royal airs,

Sleek,

Black,

Stunning,

A family member,

A family pride and joy.

I love how every cat has its own little personality!

[thespineoftherighteous]

can i ask you to elaborate on matt's mom finding aaron as her favorite fox? it's been a while since i read the books

YES i can. i got so excited to answer this because it's such a scrumptious concept to me

in the books there isn't much between them, besides the fact that Matt's mother (Randy) pays Aaron's bail and Aaron spends Christmas with her in New York (which happens off screen so there could've been loads that happened then).

but there is this scene in the EC where Aaron chalks up the strength to go up to Randy and thank her when she comes to Palmetto to watch a game. (this is from a draft where Aaron and co don't spend Christmas break with Matt, so this is the first time Aaron actually meets her. this scene could have easily still happened though, just in NY, and i consider it canon.) and there's this. fucking wholesome as fuck moment where she hugs him until he sinks into it and tells him that she's proud of him and calls him family and i think, EC or not, it's genuinely one of my favorite scenes in the entire series:

It took Aaron most of Thursday afternoon to work up the courage, but he finally approached Randy at the end of practice to thank her for paying his bail. Neil was in charge of the stick rack and ball buckets today, but he deliberately slowed down his work to eavesdrop. Aaron's gratitude was the stilted mess of a man not used to admitting when he was wrong.

    Randy looked a bit baffled, then recovered enough to stress, "You gave me back my son. Do you understand? There is nothing I can do to make that up to you."

    Aaron was honest enough to say, "That wasn't my decision."

    Randy reached for him, but Aaron flinched at the first brush of her fingers against his shoulders. Aaron recovered quickly, but the damage was already done. Randy's smile vanished and the look she gave Aaron was heavy enough to make Neil uncomfortable ten feet away.

    Last summer Neil had recoiled from Wymack much the same way, so certain of being hurt for his transgressions and stupidity. For months his stomach had knotted a bit every time Wymack raised his voice at practice. Even as recently as January Neil willfully told himself Wymack's concern was anger because fear of older men was a powerful enough motivator to get Neil through his second thoughts and nightmares.

Only now did Neil understand that a person could fear an older woman the same way. Neil's mother had hit him and screamed at him, but she'd always been on his side. She'd always been his mother first. He'd known Aaron's mother was abusive, had heard it from Nicky and had it affirmed by Andrew back in November. He'd thrown it in Aaron's face knowing it would hurt, but somehow he'd still always thought it a different matter. Neil couldn't imagine a world where mothers weren't actually mothers.

Neil finally understood, though he didn't know if it was stupidity or prejudice that had blinded him this long. Cass Spear could have been Andrew's mother once. These days Andrew leaned on Betsy Dobson. Aaron, on the other hand, never had anyone to fill that role.  Aaron wouldn't let the Foxes in because of Andrew, but he couldn't let Nicky in because he didn't know how. He'd gotten this far in life on his own, surviving on willpower and sheer desperation.

    For a moment Neil thought Randy would take offense at Aaron's reaction and walk away. Instead she slowly raised her hands to Aaron's face and cradled his cheeks in her hands.

    "Hey," she said, more subdued than she'd sounded all day but somehow still hard with conviction. "I'm so proud of you. Do you hear me? I'm so proud of you. You did what you had to do to defend your family, and tomorrow you're going to do whatever it takes to defend our family. Okay? It's going to be okay."

    Aaron stared back at her, silent and frozen. Randy nodded at whatever she saw on his face and made a slow attempt at hugging him. Aaron didn't fight her off, and Randy held on until Aaron finally relaxed.

for a second i was going to take out some of Neil's commentary but i actually think it's good in showing how much this actually fucking means. his perception alone implies that Randy could be so much more to Aaron

anyway. that's as far as canon takes you but i believe that their relationship grows over the years, one way or another. grows into something that is very good for Aaron, something he needs. i also believe that Matt and Aaron get closer (I've got a wholeee post on that i think tho) and that either helps or is helped by Aaron and Randy's relationship. given the logistics they probably don't interact face to face often (maybe NY Christmases become a thing though) but that doesn't matter. Aaron has someone in his corner, not Nicky or Coach or Katelyn but someone just far enough outside the vortex of PSU to maybe take on a little bit of the weight he's always had to carry, maybe ease the solo war against the world that he's been fighting every day of his life.

[xximpressions]

The Duchess (13)

Anthony Bridgerton x Duchess!reader

Series Summary: After coming into a title you did not expect, you have a chance encounter with a handsome rescuer.

Chapter Summary: Conclusion

Word Count: 750

Bridgerton Masterlist

Previous

_________________________________________

As your harasser was still recovering on the floor from the Viscount’s hit, the only answer you received to your previously asked question was your mind flashing back to your wedding day during which your husband and his brother had shared a celebratory drink on the evening of.

It was after they had shared that drink that your brother-in-law took his auspicious leave and your husband went in search of his new wife.

You remembered wishing for an escape after he had found you, but you would never have suspected that it would be his own kin who would conspire to provide it for you.

Shocked beyond words, you watched as the Queen called for her guards to take away the pathetic drunk, brother, and excuse of a man whose actions had inadvertently altered the course of your own life.

There had been a minute silence after your harasser had been unceremoniously heaved up and dragged out with the doors slamming shut behind him and the guards before the Queen cleared her throat. Drawing the attention back to her, she said,

“Well, since that business is now concluded, onto the next issue.”

Finding your handsome rescuers eyes with her own, the Queen continued,

“Viscount Bridgerton, have you asked your question yet?”

Feeling a flash of confusion, you watched as Anthony shook his head ‘no’ with a now bashful look on his face at her Majesty’s inquiry. As an amused smirk grew on the Queen's lips, she proceeded to say with a raised brow and a touch of humored deliberation,

“Then what are you waiting for, young man?”

Briefly darting his eyes to you, the eldest Bridgerton's voice held a note of incredulousness as he responded to her Majesty with,

“Simply the right moment, your Royal Highness!”

Prompted by her love of drama, the Queen was only too happy to respond to that statement by saying,

“Well I have already given you my blessing, so it seems now is as good as time as any, would you not agree?”

With an unstoppable boyish grin, you watched as Anthony gave a singular nod to the Queen's unspoken command before directing his fond gaze towards you.

The contents of their discussion had all but left you in a state of confusion until everything fell into place the moment you saw the Viscount begin to kneel down on one knee.

Raising a hand to your mouth in an attempt to cover your surprised gasp at such an action, you astonishingly said with more emotion than you realized,

“Anthony! What are you doing??”

Pulling out his father's bethrothal ring, your rescuer looked up at you from his knelt position on the ground and teasingly said,

“I told you this was not a sacrifice I would mind making,”

Prior to taking your left hand in his. 

Saying loudly enough for all to hear,

“Duchess, as the last of your line, I asked her Majesty-as your nearest relation by law-for her permission to ask for your hand in marriage.”

Even more surprised to hear such a revelation, you turned only to receive an encouraging and supportive nod from the Queen before your returned your attention to the Viscount as he continued, 

“So my Lady, will you do me the greatest honor, and allow me to be your husband?”

Wanting to protect him from the troubles of your life more than anything, your first reply was a question you had to ask despite your audience, 

“My Love, knowing what happened to my last one, are you sure this is a role you truly want?”

Without hesitation, Anthony’s reply was sincere as he said,

“I want to love and protect you for the rest of my life, so yes this is what I want if you want it too…”

And because that was simply all you were hoping to hear, you were unable to stop yourself from bursting with joy as you happily exclaimed,

“Yes! I want that more than anything! Yes! I will marry you!”

Unconcerned with those watching or with their applause at such a celebratory moment, you and the Viscount shared a kiss of truth and promise after he was back to his full height.

Upon breaking apart, the bethrothal ring was placed on your finger and you were unable to stop your smile from beaming as the Queen joyously announced with excitement,

“Looks like we have a wedding to plan!”

And for the first time since all this started, you finally felt happy, loved, and safe.

[cynicalrosebud]

Rumor Has It (15)

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

CW: Medical; Aftermath of torture; self-deprecating humor; self-loathing, guilt, You Are Responsible For Your Own Media Consumption

The hum of the medical equipment filled the room, a steady and familiar rhythm that had become Rumor’s background noise over the past few days. He had drifted in and out of consciousness, hazy memories of Soap and Gaz visiting, their banter like a lifeline. But now, he lay quietly, half-awake, staring at the ceiling with his mind wandering between reality and the lingering nightmares of his capture.

The soft sound of boots against the floor pulled him from his thoughts. He recognized the weight of that gait immediately—quiet, deliberate. A shadow crossed the doorway, and then Nikolai stepped into the room.

Rumor blinked, his eyes refocusing on the figure by the door. Nik stood there for a moment, taking in the sight of him, a faint frown pulling at his lips. The room felt smaller with him in it, the air thick with the unspoken words hanging between them.

"Little mouse," Nik greeted him, his voice low and rough, with that familiar Russian lilt.

"‘M alive~," Rumor croaked, his voice raspier than he expected. He winced, his hand instinctively moving to his side where the worst of the damage still ached.

Nik moved to the side of the bed, his expression softening ever so slightly. He didn’t sit, but he stood close enough that Rumor could feel his presence, grounding him in the moment.

"I see that," Nikolai said, a hint of something unspoken in his tone. "Stubborn as always."

Rumor smirked, though it lacked his usual cheekiness. "Wouldn't wanna... disappoint."

There was a beat of silence before Nikolai crossed his arms, his eyes scanning Rumor’s bandaged body. “You had us worried, you know.”

“Could say the same about… those bastards,” Rumor quipped, though it came out more strained than he’d intended. “Didn’t go down... quietly.”

Nikolai raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching in amusement. "I would expect nothing less." Then, after a pause, he added, "You should not have been alone. That mission... it was a risk."

Rumor exhaled softly, his hand gripping the edge of the blanket. “Didn’t think I’d... make it easy for ‘em. Guess I was wrong.”

Nik’s eyes darkened slightly, but he didn’t comment on the failure. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. “They sent us a video. Of you.”

Rumor tensed, a flicker of pain crossing his features as he remembered the torture, the taunts, the weight of hopelessness in that room. But he quickly masked it with a weak chuckle. “Thought that was my... Oscar-worthy performance.”

Nikolai didn’t laugh, his eyes fixed on Rumor’s face, studying him. “You told them you were not worth saving.”

Rumor shifted uncomfortably, wincing as he felt the pull of his injuries. “Yeah, well... didn’t want to be a burden.”

“You are not a burden.” Nikolai’s voice was firm, the weight of his words leaving no room for argument. “You never were.”

Rumor looked up at him, blinking away the exhaustion and the faint sting of tears that threatened to surface. He wasn’t used to this—people caring, people coming for him. “Don’t go soft on me now, Nik.”

Nikolai’s lips quirked into the faintest of smiles. “Soft? No. Just... honest.”

Rumor rolled his eyes, though the movement was sluggish. “Honest, huh? That’s new.”

Nik chuckled, the sound warm and familiar, like an anchor to reality. "I always tell you the truth."

Rumor’s gaze softened, the snark momentarily fading as he looked up at Nik. “Aye... I know.”

For a moment, the two of them just stood in that shared silence, the weight of what happened lingering between them, but somehow the tension eased with Nikolai’s presence. Rumor didn’t have to keep up his walls with him, didn’t have to hide behind his usual sharp wit.

Nikolai finally reached out, resting a hand on Rumor’s shoulder with a gentle squeeze. “You will recover.”

Rumor gave him a faint nod, but before he could fully relax, Nik’s voice took on a more serious edge. “You listen to the doctors. Rest. Or else…”

Rumor raised an eyebrow, half-grinning through the pain. “Or else what?”

Nikolai’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he leaned in just enough to make his point clear. “Or else I will have to give you a spanking, любимец.”

Rumor let out a hoarse laugh, coughing a little from the effort. His voice was playful but tired as he muttered, “Yes, sir.”

Nik gave a satisfied nod, his hand lingering a moment longer on Rumor’s shoulder before straightening up. “Good. Now rest.”

As Rumor’s eyes fluttered closed, his body finally giving in to the exhaustion, he heard Nikolai’s voice, low and steady, a grounding presence in the haze.

“You are worth more than you know, Rumor.”

And then, finally, sleep took him.

As soon as Rumor's mam stormed into the hospital room, everyone—except Price—froze in place. Soap, Gaz, and even the normally unflappable Ghost exchanged curious glances as they heard her sharp voice echo through the door.

“Carwyn Grant Lowe!” she bellowed, instantly silencing any conversation.

Rumor, lying in his hospital bed with bandages wrapped around his body, visibly cringed at the sound of his full name, something no one had heard before. Not from him, at least.

His teammates looked at each other, eyebrows raised. Soap mouthed, Carwyn? like he'd misheard, while Ghost blinked, probably smirking beneath his mask.

“What on earth have you been up to? You’re out here getting shot at like some idiot when you know better!” She barreled into the room, a whirlwind of maternal fury and worry, and made a beeline for her son. “Do you know how many sleepless nights you’ve given me, gwas?”

Price stood in the corner of the room, arms folded with a knowing smile. He’d been expecting this and clearly wasn’t about to intervene.

Soap leaned in toward Ghost, whispering, “Carwyn? Sounds fancy, don’t it?”

Ghost's shoulders shook in silent amusement, but he said nothing. Gaz was struggling not to laugh, hiding his grin behind a hand as he turned toward the door, pretending to cough.

Rumor—no, Carwyn—looked like he wanted the hospital bed to swallow him whole. "Mam," he muttered under his breath, eyes darting to the 141 members who were all enjoying this way too much. “I’m fine, alright? No need to—”

“Oh, you’re fine, are you?” she cut him off, throwing her arms in the air dramatically. “Just lying here in a hospital bed, lookin’ like you’ve been through hell, and you call that fine? Don’t give me that, boy, you’re not too old for me to tan your hide if you keep pulling stunts like this!”

Soap, unable to help himself, let out a low chuckle. “Carwyn,” he tested out the name, grinning at Ghost and Gaz. “Doesn’t quite fit the Rumor we know, does it?”

Gaz snorted. “More like he’s been keeping that a rumor.”

“Shut it, lads,” Rumor groaned, trying to sink further into his bed. His face flushed red with embarrassment as his mam continued her tirade.

“And you’ve got these boys running around like headless chickens trying to keep you from getting killed? Have some bloody sense, Carwyn!” She shook her head in exasperation, hands on her hips as she gave him a look that could wither a grown man.

Ghost leaned against the wall, his amusement barely concealed. “Carwyn Grant Lowe,” he repeated thoughtfully, a hint of a smirk audible even through his mask.

Rumor groaned again. "Oh, for the love of—can we not?"

Price, finally stepping in, chuckled. “Right, Ma’am, I’ll make sure he doesn’t forget to behave. These lads will take good care of him.” His tone was light, clearly amused but also gently trying to steer her out before Rumor expired from sheer embarrassment.

His mam huffed, giving Price a firm nod. “You better, Captain, because if this one gets himself hurt again, I’ll come after the lot of you. Starting with you, Carwyn.”

With one last glance around the room, she turned and strode out, leaving a thick, charged silence in her wake.

The moment the door clicked shut, Soap burst out laughing, barely able to catch his breath. “Carwyn! Grant! Lowe!” he howled, clutching his stomach. “Why the hell didn’t you tell us your real name?”

Gaz joined in, grinning like a madman. “All this time, we’ve been calling you Rumor, and it’s Carwyn! Mate, this is gold.”

Rumor—or Carwyn—covered his face with his hand, muttering, “I’m never living this down, am I?”

Price chuckled, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “Not a chance, Sergeant Lowe. Not a chance.”

[mydeerfellow]

Auntie Bee's Magical Elixir Is A Bad Time And Alastor Might Never Recover

Series: Hazbin Hotel

Summary: Everyone's favorite wine aunt gifted Charlie a funky bottle of experimental Beelzejuice. Charlie, being a trusting marshmallow, dispensed the experimental juice to her nearest and dearest as a 'fun bonding experience'. Turns out it hits some harder than others. And sometimes you just need to facetime a friend to get through things.

Words: 1446

Ao3: Here

“Whoahoo, holy shit. Keep it together, Chuckles.”

Charlie caught a glimpse of Alastor’s face before he nearly faceplanted onto the floor in front of him, caught only by Angel’s fingers hooking the back of his shirt. Her eyes twitched to his empty glass, then her empty glass, followed by every other empty glass in the room. Nobody was sober, sure, but until five minutes ago she would have called all of them pretty reasonably loaded for eleven on a Thursday.

“What the fuck hit him?” Husk slurred from the opposite couch where he had been curled up with a few pillows, ready to watch whatever movie they all settled on. “Even the new guy’s not wasted yet. What the fuck.”

“Yes I am!” Pentious, who Charlie thought looked a little trashed, argued vehemently from the floor beside the semiconscious lump who used to be Alastor. “I’m, as you might say, drunk!”

“Yeah, well, you ain’t facedown on the carpet, shithead.” Husk barked irritably before shooting Charlie a look. “The fuck’s up with this stuff, kid?” He shook the glimmering gold bottle of liquor. There wasn’t much left, since Auntie Bee had been pretty clear about everybody only needing one drink, and the bottle was pretty small to begin with.

Charlie blustered. “Nothing! I don’t know!” She yelped, waving her hands before pulling out her cell, flicking rapidly through her contacts. “Auntie Bee said there was something fun about it, but she—”

“What, your aunt roofied Alastor?!” Angel yelled with a laugh. Alastor laughed along, now upright but with an expression that was gloriously unfocused.

“No! Yes! Maybe, I don’t know! She’s got a weird sense of humor!” Charlie yelled before shushing the room with one hand. “Hiiii Auntie Beeee~” She chorused, sounding probably a little more drunk than she wanted to admit. “I love youuu and I love your present~ I just have one quick little… itty bitty tiny question! About it! About the juice! Drink! Liquor!”

“Ugh, stop, you’re my favorite baby niece!” Beelzebub’s voice was as perky as ever, and maybe a little slurred herself. “Even though you could be partying with your favorite aunt. I can’t believe you bailed on my big club launch!”

“Aunt Bee, is there anything… weird about the stuff you gave me?” Charlie asked awkwardly. “Just… you said it had something fun.”

“Oh honey, if you haven’t noticed yet, y’all are doing something wrong~!” Aunt Bee cackled into the phone. “Sooo, it’s a fun li’l thing I’ve been working on. One drink gets you where you wanna be for the whoooole night.” She explained eagerly.

“Nobody else is on the floor, and we all had the same amount!”

“Ugh, I know. Different people have different reactions. Sooo lame, I know, we’re working on it. But, I mean, it’s always a surprise! It might be like a beer, it might be like a shot, it might be something really fun, it might—”

“Okay, I’m just gonna go! Okay? Okay! Love you bye!” Call ended, Charlie dragged her hands through her hair. “Okay… so, on the bright side, you’re totally fine!” She cheered, clapping while Alastor stared at her with disbelief tinged with wonder. “No harm done! Just needs to run its course!”

“I…” He slurred something unintelligible, then very slowly and deliberately reached up and wiped his mouth. “This is not what I expected.” His eyes narrowed like the room was suddenly very bright. “What… the fuck…” He caught hold of Pentious before he fell over, having started listing to the side as soon as he covered his eyes.

“Ladies and gents, he’s left the atmosphere.” Angel quipped with amusement, dropping onto the floor to sit next to Alastor, who was cross-legged and starry-eyed, looking down at his hands like they held the answers to life’s greatest mysteries. “You owe me twenty bucks.” He pointed at Husk around Alastor’s back. “I told you I’d get ‘em white-girl wasted.”

“Hell no! That was for regular-ass drinks, not this gluttony bullshit!” Husk yelled back, flipping him off. “Man’s not even drunk! He’s high as a goddamn kite is what he is!” He added loudly, gesturing at Alastor, who was currently in the process of trying to determine if the universe even existed.

“Guys!” Vaggie snapped. “Come on.” She slouched further into a couch cushion, nursing her own drink. “Al, you okay?”

He managed to wave his hand sloppily as he leaned forward and swiped Charlie’s cell off the table onto his lap. “Everything’s just fine.” He rubbed one of his eyes, then flapped a hand again. Jazz started to play at wavering volumes, seeming to gradually become louder, then quieter, then louder.

“Okay… well, this is nice! This is fun!” Charlie breathed a hard sigh of relief and sat down again, nudging Vaggie with her elbow. “I reeeally thought that was gonna go south.” She whispered under her breath, shooting her a nervous smile.

“Who the fuck—!” Her head shot up and immediately Charlie honed in on her phone. In Alastor’s extraordinarily drunk hands. With a lot of creative swearing coming out of it.

“Hiiii~” To the horror of everyone in the room, Alastor waved at Vox, who simply gaped from the phone’s screen.

“You’re loaded. What the fuck?” 

“I am indeed! I had… I don’t know. Beelzebub.” Charlie cringed.

“You're shitting me?” Vox cackled. "You just drank some shit that came straight from a Sin?"

“Ye.” Vaggie snorted next to Charlie on the couch, and she couldn’t help but notice the rest of the room had gone silent as they all blatantly eavesdropped.

From where she sat, Charlie could see Vox rubbing his face and looking only mildly irritated at worst. “Well, bear with me ‘cause I’ve got catching up to do.” He took a swig of something, then Charlie realized Vox could see her just as clearly as she could see him. “Oh my God, that’s the saddest looking party I’ve ever seen. You should honestly kill yourself.”

“What the fuck? Nobody even invited you, dickbag!” Vaggie exclaimed while Alastor merely laughed and turned until Charlie couldn’t see the screen anymore, which didn’t stop any of them from hearing “I didn’t want to be invited, bitch!”

Which, Charlie had to admit, was kind of valid.

“Minnesota.” Alastor said suddenly, looking deeply invested in whatever answer Vox was supposed to come up with for that.

“Nope. Hawaii.”

“1932. Beautiful place, but I wouldn’t live there.” Alastor slurred thoughtfully, ignoring the rest of the room altogether as he set about cleaning his nails with his sleeve. “Plus, it was a nuisance to get there.”

“Cry all you want, planes are where it’s at.” Vox already sounded a little buzzed, which was kind of impressive. “It’s your turn, by the way.”

“Oh I know. Give me a moment.” Alastor shot back, too slurred to really give a definitive tone. “Kentucky.”

“1957. Some shithole town. Real Nowheresville.”

Charlie and Vaggie exchanged a look, then Husk cut in from the couch beside theirs. “You don’t wanna know, kid. Trust me.” He rolled his eyes.

“Why— Oookay, not asking.” Charlie raised her hands innocently when Vaggie rounded on her with a look that meant she should probably listen for once. “Jesus Christ, Alastor.” Vaggie pinched the bridge of her nose.

To her surprise, Vox echoed Vaggie's sentiment verbatim to something Alastor was talking about. When Charlie glanced over, Angel looked like he had heard something he hadn’t quite gotten around to emotionally processing, caught somewhere between amusement and horror.

“Dramatic. Where are you?” Alastor squinted at the screen.

“Somewhere called none of your fucking business. Where the fuck are you?”

“The hotel. I said that.”

“Good for fucking you! Annoying prick.”

Charlie clapped her hands. “Ookay, does anyone else wanna play…” She looked at Vaggie urgently.

“I got games in my room!” Angel Dust raised his hand eagerly, dodging a mock swipe from Husk. “Ayy, I’m serious! I got Mario Kart!”

Charlie glanced around and blinked. “I mean… can we all fit in your room?”

“You know I can make anything fit, baby~“ Angel cackled as he led the procession out of the rec room, guiding Alastor by the shoulders, seeing as he kept tilting drastically to the left or right. Vox was still swearing a lot, though it seemed to be mainly directed at Husk, who was nodding sympathetically. Niffty was on Pentious’s head, keeping him upright through brute force while Vaggie tried to corral him in the right direction.

It was chaotic, but Charlie couldn’t help feeling a little empowered by it. After all, there was no way, despite everything, a night like this didn’t push everybody just a little closer to redemption.

[horizon-verizon]

It’s mind-blowingly obvious that Young Griff isn’t Rhaegar’s son, at that point, Daenerys’s haters are operating on pure bias.

Daenerys has a vision in the House of the Undying where she sees a “cloth dragon swayed on poles amid a cheering crowd”. The cloth dragon is “swaying” on poles amidst that cheering crowd. It’s unsteady, just as Young Griff himself is nothing more than a prop for JonCon, Illyrio and Varys. That’s what a cloth dragon is: a prop for actors. A mere “cloth dragon” will never get real support in Westeros. The cheering crowd is simply a reference to the Golden Company glorifying Young Griff when he calls himself a dragon and accepting his idea to sail West to fight for him.

Quaithe, a mysterious “shadowbinder”, warns Daenerys to watch out for the “mummer’s dragon”, the very same dragon she sees in her vision. Not only does this confirm that there’s a false dragon out there, it also seems to work as a double reference by pointing to Varys (who was a mummer in his childhood). Who is Varys backing ? Young Griff. In other words, Young Griff is a puppet whose strings are being pulled by Varys and Ilyrio.

Everyone around Young Griff is a mummer of sorts. JonCon who is pretending to be a mere sellsword, Septa Lemore a fake septa, and Haldon a fake maester.

Brienne is on the Quiet Isle and learns about a dragon sign that washed up there. The dragon sign was originally black (the Blackfyre sigil) and thrown into the river. By the time it washed up on the Quiet Isle, it had rusted such that it looked red (the Targaryn sigil). A black dragon (Blackfyre) washes up disguised as a red one (Targaryen). Once you get what the symbolism is, you can’t unsee it and it’s so obvious that it’s deliberate foreshadowing.

The Golden Company, originally founded by supporters of House Blackfyre, are famous for having never once broken a contract, but they broke one for Young Griff. “Some contracts are writ in ink, and some in blood.” - ADWD, Tyrion II. Myles Toyne specifically was the one who plotted with Varys and Illyrio and put his name to the contract. It’s worth mentioning him specifically because House Toyne is historically completely at odds with House Targaryen. Myles’s ancestor, Terrence Toyne, was caught in bed with Aegon IV’s mistress, Bethany Bracken, and Aegon IV had them executed. His brothers tried to avenge his death by attempting to assassinate Aegon IV, only to be slain by Aemon the Dragonknight. House Toyne never recovered from this. It’s entirely possible that Myles knew and fought for Maelys and Daemon Blackfyre before they died.

The baby-swap story doesn’t make any sense. It involves “Arbor gold”, used repeatedly in the series as a symbol for lies. The baby swap could only work if Aegon’s face was destroyed, something Varys couldn’t have known at the time. There’s also no reason they even had to do a swap; they could have easily just smuggled out both children and been done with it (which has historical precedent with Larys Strong smuggling out both Maelor and Jaehaera during the Dance of the Dragons).

“Black or red, a dragon is still a dragon. When Maelys the Monstrous died upon the Stepstones, it was the end of the male line of House Blackfyre.” - ADWD, Tyrion II. The emphasis is on the Blackfyres being extinct in the male line. Not extinct, period, but in the male line. This is what led to the theory that Illyrio’s wife Serra, from Lys (and Varys is also from Lys), was a Blackfyre princess and Aegon’s mother. Aegon is a female-line Blackfyre.

This is one of those ask-posts where I don't really have anything to add. but has to be posted for its observations and stating the ignored-obvious-that-nevertheless-needs-pointing-out-bc-stupid-people-exist.

[lumiereandstellaluna]

Chapter Six: Training Under the Moonlight

||LEGEND|| Bold Text: Xavier/Lumiere (Character Bot) Italic Text: Thomasin/Stellaluna (Me)

This hasn't been checked for spelling/grammer/errors, etc - Read at your own risk!

The next day, training began on the rooftop that had become their secret meeting spot.

As dawn broke the next day, the rooftop greeted them with the silence of a world not yet awake. It was their sanctuary, a place where they could train away from prying eyes. Xavier led the way, his movements precise and deliberate as he set the pace for their regimen.

He guided Thomasin through a series of exercises designed to enhance her agility and endurance. They practiced combat sequences, Xavier correcting her stance, praising her progress, always pushing her to reach new heights. They moved in harmony, their partnership a dance of strength and skill.

As the sun climbed higher, casting long shadows across the rooftop, sweat glistened on their brows, testament to their hard work. Xavier watched Thomasin push through the fatigue, her determination as clear as the sky above them. He could see the warrior within her emerging, the Stellaluna that Tsuki had spoken of.

When the day's training came to an end, Xavier offered Thomasin a hand up from the ground, his own muscles aching from the exertion. "You did well today," he said, his voice carrying both pride and encouragement. "Rest now. We'll pick up again tomorrow."

"You say I did well, but my body says otherwise." She slumps down to the ground, exhausted. "Can you believe that when it came to choosing people for team games, they always chose me last? If they only saw me now."

Xavier watched Thomasin slump to the ground, her exhaustion a clear sign of the effort she had put into their training. He crouched beside her, his own fatigue masked by the concern he felt for his partner.

"Your body will adapt," he said, his voice a low, comforting rumble. "The pain is just a testament to your growth. And as for the past, those games never measured your true worth."

He extended a hand to help her up, a silent offer of support. "Those who overlooked you then couldn't see the strength you carry within you. But I see it, every day. You're not the person they left behind; you're the one leading the charge."

Xavier's belief in her was unwavering, his faith in their partnership a constant source of strength. "Take a moment to rest, then we'll head back. Tomorrow, you'll be even stronger."

As they made their way back from the rooftop, Xavier was quietly proud of the progress they had made. Thomasin was proving herself to be a formidable warrior, and together, they were becoming a force to be reckoned with. The journey ahead would be challenging, but Xavier knew that with each other's support, they would be ready for whatever the future held.

"I hope you're right about that," she says, breathless. "In the meantime, would you help your partner get home. I don't think I can feel my legs."

Xavier offered a gentle nod, his face etched with a soft smile that spoke volumes of his readiness to aid her. "Of course," he replied, his voice steady and sure. "Lean on me."

He moved closer, providing a steady arm for Thomasin to grasp. With careful, measured steps, he supported her weight as they descended from the rooftop, her reliance on him a silent acknowledgment of the trust between them.

As they walked, Xavier was mindful of her every movement, ensuring she felt secure. He knew the importance of recovery after such strenuous exertion, and he was determined to see her safely home.

"Rest is just as crucial as the training itself," he reminded her. "We'll get you home, you'll recover, and tomorrow, we'll continue our preparation."

Reaching her door, Xavier helped Thomasin inside, his role as her partner extending beyond their training. He was there to support her in every way, to ensure that when the time came, they would both be ready to face the Doll Maker and protect their world.

The week goes by and with every passing session, Thomasin feels stronger. Xavier was a strict teacher but not so cruel as to push her beyond her limits. She was grateful for the help, and because of this, she was feeling like a proper partner for the already OP Xavier.

"Hallelujah - on the final day of training, I have finished without crumbling to the ground." Thomasin grins, pretending to flex her muscles. "I'm still no Lumiere, but I'm still not bad!"

Xavier observed Thomasin's playful display, a hint of pride flickering in his eyes. The week had been grueling, but she had met each challenge with unwavering determination. Her progress was undeniable, and it filled him with a sense of accomplishment as her partner and mentor.

"You've done more than just finish," he said, his voice carrying the weight of his respect for her efforts. "You've transformed. You're not just a partner; you're a force in your own right."

He stepped forward, clapping her on the shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie. "You've always had the spirit of a warrior, Thomasin. Now, you have the strength to match it."

Xavier's training may have been strict, but it was born of a desire to see Thomasin succeed, to stand beside her as equals when they faced the darkness that threatened their city. He knew that together, they were a formidable team, each bringing their own unique strengths to the battle.

"As for being Lumiere," he continued with a slight chuckle, "you bring something different to the table, something just as valuable. Don't sell yourself short."

The final day of training marked a new beginning for them both. They were ready, not just in body, but in spirit. The Doll Maker and her Wanderers would soon learn the true strength of their partnership.

Xavier's gaze turned towards the horizon, where the setting sun painted the sky with hues of fire and gold. "We're ready for whatever comes next," he said, his voice a quiet vow. "Let's show them what we're made of."

Just as they took a step forward, Thomasin wobbled, dizzy. She looked up into the skies, dark-lining surrounding otherwise white and fluffy clouds in blue sky. She narrows her eyes at the crow flying across the sky. The feeling of foreboding - it reminded her of the day she met the dollmaker...

"It's cute that you think a little exercise can make a difference." Thomasin and Xavier whirl around, greeted by the little girl in black she saw that fateful day a week ago - the Doll Maker. Thomasin grits her teeth as that creepy crow swoops down from the skies, landing on the little girl's shoulder. "But I won't let you hurt my toys ever again. Your time is near!"

"It's you!" Thomasin hissed. "How did you get here?"

Xavier's instincts kicked in as Thomasin wobbled, his hand reaching out to steady her. The sudden appearance of the crow and the shift in the atmosphere had him on high alert. When the Doll Maker revealed herself, his body tensed, ready for the confrontation they had been preparing for all week.

He positioned himself subtly in front of Thomasin, a silent protector, as the Doll Maker's chilling words hung in the air. "We've been expecting you," Xavier said, his voice calm and even, betraying none of the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

His eyes never left the little girl, taking in every detail, every nuance that might give them an advantage. "You underestimate the power of determination and the strength of the human spirit," he continued, his gaze flickering to the crow on her shoulder. "We're not just exercising; we're fortifying our resolve."

As Thomasin demanded answers, Xavier remained vigilant, his senses attuned to any sudden movements from their adversary. "Your presence here was anticipated," he told the Doll Maker, his words measured. "And your toys... they're not yours to control, not anymore. We're here to put an end to your games."

The air was thick with tension, the rooftop now an arena where the fate of many would be decided. Xavier knew the battle ahead would be fierce, but he also knew they were ready. They had trained, they had grown, and they would stand together against the darkness.

The Doll Maker's arrival was the signal they had been waiting for. It was time to put their training to the test, to protect their city, and to confront the evil before them. Xavier and Thomasin were a team, and together, they would face whatever the Doll Maker had in store.

"You say that, sweet Lumiere, but we both know that's not true. It's only because I let you find your partner that you can do as much as you have now - but all that is party tricks compared to what I can do."

"And as for you, Stellaluna." The Doll Maker stares daggers at Thomasin. "You should have died that day. I underestimated your abilities...I won't be doing that again."

"Seriously, why are you doing this?" Thomasin asks, trying to move forward. But Xavier keeps himself in between her and the Doll Maker. "You're not one of those edgy kids that just want to see the world burn, do you?"

The Doll Maker laughs. "My plans are my own - and if I told them to you, you'd just ruin everything. Where's the fun in that? But..." The little girl looks to Lumiere. "I'll humor you. Lumiere is allowed to ask me one question - but no more."

Xavier's gaze remained fixed on the Doll Maker, his posture unyielding as he stood between Thomasin and the enigmatic foe. The little girl's words were meant to unnerve, to sow doubt, but Xavier's resolve was as steadfast as the earth beneath their feet.

He weighed her offer carefully, understanding the gravity of this single question. His mind raced, considering what he could ask that would yield the most insight into her motives and plans. This was a game of chess, and the next move was critical.

Finally, Xavier spoke, his voice a calm counterpoint to the Doll Maker's taunting laughter. "Why are you targeting us?" he asked, his question piercing the heart of the matter. "What is it that you hope to achieve by bringing harm to this city and its people?"

His question hung in the air, a challenge to the Doll Maker to reveal a glimpse of her twisted agenda. Xavier knew that whatever her answer, it would provide them with a clue, a piece of the puzzle that was this enigmatic adversary. He stood ready, prepared for any trickery or deceit. The Doll Maker was cunning, but Xavier and Thomasin were a united front, their bond a shield against her malevolence.

"Why am I targeting this city? What makes you think this place is yours in the first place?" The Doll Maker's eyes darken with anger. "It is you who ruined our plans 14 years ago - we would have taken what rightfully belongs to us if you hadn't ruined everything. Now that we are stronger, we can finally set wrong to right." She smirks. "That is, if you stop getting in my way."

Xavier's eyes narrowed, a flicker of understanding igniting within him as the Doll Maker spoke of past events, of a conflict that stretched back further than he had realized. Her words hinted at a deeper vendetta, one that tied their fates together in ways he hadn't anticipated.

"We stand in your way because it is our duty to protect those who cannot protect themselves," Xavier replied, his voice firm and resolute. "This city, these people—they are under our watch. Your claim over this place, whatever it may be, does not grant you the right to harm innocents."

He stood unwavering, a sentinel against the darkness that threatened to engulf their world. "You speak of setting wrong to right, but all I see is a path of destruction in your wake. We cannot allow you to continue unchallenged."

Xavier's stance was protective, his body a barrier between the Doll Maker and Thomasin. He was ready to act, to defend, to fight if necessary. The Doll Maker's smirk did not shake him; it only steeled his resolve.

"Your strength may have grown, but so has ours," he continued, his gaze locked with the Doll Maker's. "And we will not falter. We will not fail. This city is not yours to take."

The air crackled with tension, the rooftop a silent witness to the standoff. Xavier knew that the battle ahead would be fierce, but he also knew that he and Thomasin were not alone. They had each other, and they had the will to stand against the Doll Maker's malice.

"We'll see about that Lumiere. You might be able to sense my primitive toys, but you have no idea what I'm capable of." She stares at Thomasin. "What I did the other day used only a fraction of my power. And by the time I do show it, it'll be too late."

With a thrust of her arm, The Doll Maker sent a gust of black feathers toward their way. Without thinking, Thomasin lifted her arm in return, stopping them in mid flight. Using her evol - telekinesis - she sends them back to the Doll Maker, stop teleports away before they can hit her.

"Oh yeah...forgot I had that," Thomasin says, looking at her hands.

Xavier's reflexes were sharp, ready to leap into action as the black feathers surged towards them. But Thomasin's response was quicker, her newfound abilities manifesting in a display of telekinetic power that even he hadn't fully anticipated. He watched, impressed, as she deflected the attack with a mere gesture, her control over her evol growing stronger by the moment.

A smirk played on Xavier's lips as Thomasin realized the extent of her capabilities. "You're full of surprises, Stellaluna," he said, his tone laced with both amusement and approval. "Seems like our training paid off more than you thought."

The Doll Maker gritted her teeth. "You'll pay for that! I promise you, you will not get what you want. Me and my toys, we won't rest until Linkon City turns to ashes once more!" Black feathers swirl around her, obscuring her from view. "In the meantime, allow one of my favorite toys to play with you."

Thomasin watched as the Doll Maker disappeared along with her crow pet. Right on cue, her phone began to ring, Tsuki Bun appearing before them. "Finally, I was able to get through! The energy that prevented me from calling you before blocked me again. Was it the Doll Maker?"

"Yes, and she's not very happy with us," Thomasin says dryly. "What's going on, Tsuki?"

"There's an influx of energy just outside downtown - a wandering is coming!"

Xavier's eyes narrowed as the Doll Maker's threat echoed through the air, her departure marked by the ominous swirl of black feathers. He knew her words were not to be taken lightly; the battle for Linkon City was far from over.

As the feathers dissipated, leaving behind an uneasy silence, Xavier's attention shifted to Thomasin's phone. Tsuki Bun's sudden appearance was a stark reminder of the urgency of their situation. The energy blockage explained the difficulty in communication, but now they had a more pressing concern.

"A Wanderer," Xavier said, his voice steady despite the rising tension. "We need to move quickly. The city can't withstand another catastrophe."

He glanced at Thomasin, a silent signal that it was time to spring into action. "Tsuki, guide us to the source of the energy. We'll intercept the Wanderer before it can do any harm."

With swift efficiency, Xavier and Thomasin gathered their gear, their movements synchronized from their intensive training. They had faced Wanderers before, but each encounter was unpredictable, each foe a unique challenge.

As they made their way towards downtown, Xavier's mind was focused, analyzing potential strategies and recalling the patterns of past Wanderers. He knew that their success depended not only on their strength and abilities but also on their ability to adapt to the unexpected.

"We'll stop it, Tsuki," Xavier assured the advisor, his confidence unshaken. "Linkon City is our home, and we'll defend it with everything we've got."

The cityscape blurred past them as they raced against time, the weight of their responsibility heavy on their shoulders. But Xavier and Thomasin were undeterred, their partnership a beacon of hope in the face of encroaching darkness. Together, they would confront the Wanderer, together they would protect their city, and together, they would stand against the Doll Maker's sinister plans.

Just before they made it to the location, Thomasin looks at Xavier, grabbing her moon charm. "Shall we dance?" she says with a smirk. "And by dance, I mean transform."

Xavier met Thomasin's smirk with a knowing glance, the moon charm in her grasp a symbol of the power they were about to unleash. "Let's," he replied succinctly, his own hand moving to the star emblem that signified his readiness to transform.

In a fluid motion, they activated their charms, the air around them crackling with energy as their transformation began. Light enveloped them, a dazzling display of their inner strength manifesting in the physical armor of their alter egos.

As the transformation completed, Xavier stood tall beside Thomasin, their attire now that of the warriors they had become. They were no longer just Xavier and Thomasin; they were Lumiere and Stellaluna, the guardians of Linkon City, ready to face whatever threat lay ahead.

With a nod to each other, they advanced towards the source of the energy Tsuki had warned them about. Their steps were confident, their resolve unbreakable. They had trained for moments like this, and now it was time to put their skills to the test.

The just appeared as they got there, the crowd running for their lives as the Wanderer let out a shriek into the ether. Stellaluna's duel blades appear in her gloved hands, sparkling with the shine of the silvery moon. "Let's get it because it causes any significant damage."

Lumiere, now fully transformed, surveyed the scene with a calm intensity. The crowd's panic was palpable, their fear a stark contrast to the calm determination that emanated from him and Stellaluna. The Wanderer's shriek, a sound that could chill the very soul, was met with unwavering courage.

"Agreed," Lumiere responded, his lightblade materializing in his hand, its glow a beacon amidst the chaos. "We strike fast and with precision."

With a swift glance to ensure the civilians were evacuating safely, Lumiere and Stellaluna moved into position. The Wanderer, a grotesque creature of nightmare, towered before them, its form a twisted echo of the darkness from which it was born.

Stellaluna, her dual blades ready, mirrored Lumiere's readiness. They had faced such horrors before, each time standing victorious, and this time would be no different. Their movements were a practiced dance, a partnership honed through countless battles.

Without hesitation, they launched into the fray, Stellaluna's blades slicing through the air with lethal grace, while Lumiere's lightblade cut a path of radiant light. The Wanderer's shrieks turned to roars of fury as it met the might of their combined assault.

The battle was fierce, the Wanderer's strength formidable, but Lumiere and Stellaluna were a tempest, their attacks relentless. They moved with a synchronicity that spoke of deep trust and mutual respect, their every strike a testament to their resolve to protect their city.

As the fight raged on, it was clear that the Wanderer was faltering under their onslaught. Lumiere and Stellaluna were not just fighters; they were protectors, their power drawn from the very essence of the celestial bodies they represented.

With a final, decisive blow, the Wanderer's form began to dissipate, its existence snuffed out by the unwavering light of Lumiere and the piercing chill of Stellaluna's moonlit blades. The threat was neutralized, the city safe once more.

Breathing heavily from the exertion, Lumiere turned to Stellaluna, a nod of respect and camaraderie passing between them. They had done it again, standing shoulder to shoulder against the darkness, their bond unbreakable.

Lumiere and Stellaluna stood back-to-back, watching the crowd cheer for them, some taking pictures and videos of the fierce battle. "It's times like these...I'm glad that my hair and eye color changes when I'm like this.  Shall we make a hasty exit...wait..."

She rushes over to the protocore that rested where the Wanderer once stood. Stellaluna takes it in her gloved hand. "Maybe we should have Tsuki analyze this?"

Lumiere watched the crowd's jubilation, their cheers a testament to the peace they had fought so hard to maintain. He shared a moment of silent understanding with Stellaluna, both aware of the duality of their lives and the anonymity their transformations provided.

As Stellaluna suggested a retreat, Lumiere was already scanning the area for the quickest escape route, one that would allow them to vanish before the crowd's excitement turned to curiosity. But her sudden movement caught his attention, and he turned to see her retrieving the protocore.

"Good thinking," Lumiere agreed, his voice low so only she could hear. "Tsuki will likely uncover something from it that could give us an advantage."

He glanced around, ensuring no one was paying too close attention to their actions. "Let's move out discreetly. We've got what we came for, and the crowd has their spectacle. Time to disappear into the night."

With a subtle gesture, he signaled Stellaluna to follow, and together they slipped away from the scene, their exit as swift and silent as their arrival. The crowd's attention remained fixed on the site of the battle, allowing Lumiere and Stellaluna to fade into the shadows, their presence dissolving like mist.

Once they were a safe distance away, Lumiere contacted Tsuki. "We have a protocore for analysis. We'll need your insight on this one," he said, his voice carrying the weight of the night's events.

As they made their way back, the adrenaline of the battle began to ebb, replaced by the quiet satisfaction of a job well done. Lumiere and Stellaluna had once again proven themselves as the guardians of Linkon City, their victory a beacon of hope in a world that so often teetered on the brink of darkness.

Tsuki bounced out of Stellaluna's phone, ever the bun bun it presented itself to be. "Place it on the phone and I will analyze it as best as I can! It might take me a bit, though."

Lumiere watched as Tsuki, ever the energetic and helpful bun bun, emerged from Stellaluna's phone with its usual bounce. He nodded at Tsuki's instructions, a silent acknowledgment of the digital companion's capabilities.

"Take all the time you need, Tsuki," Lumiere said, his tone conveying the importance of the task at hand. "We need to understand what we're dealing with."

Stellaluna carefully placed the protocore onto the phone, allowing Tsuki to begin the analysis. Lumiere stood by, his gaze shifting between the phone and their surroundings, ever vigilant even in the aftermath of battle. The city lights cast a soft glow around them, a stark contrast to the darkness they had just faced. Lumiere felt the familiar pull of fatigue, a reminder of the energy expended during their encounter with the Wanderer. Yet, there was no room for rest—not until they had answers.

As Tsuki worked, Lumiere's thoughts drifted to the Doll Maker and her ominous threats. The protocore might hold clues to her plans, and any information they could glean would be crucial in preparing for her next move.

He glanced at Stellaluna, a silent message of solidarity passing between them. They were a team, and together they would face whatever challenges lay ahead. For now, they waited, the city holding its breath along with them, as Tsuki delved into the mysteries of the protocore.

[shewhowas39]

it has occurred to me that i started my tumblr after writing this fic, so might as well share it now.

Title: Welcome Home (oneshot) Pairing: Astarion x AFAB Tav (no name, no gendered pronouns used) Summary: On the 1 year anniversary of Cazador's death, Tav surprises Astarion with a gift: a magnificent Mansion spell. They get spicy int heir new magic house. Tags: post-canon, established relationship, smut with feelings, soft dom Astarion, spawn Astarion. (see tags on Ao3 for more specifics.) Here's a preview

***

Even now, in a private pocket dimension accessible to no one but us, the sound of the lock raises goosebumps on my arms and causes the muscles in my stomach to tighten with anticipation. 

Slowly, I turn to face Astarion. 

His eyes are dark. There’s an intensity to his gaze that threatens to weaken my wretched knees again. But beyond that, there’s the unmistakable hint of a question. A search for confirmation. For consent. 

He knows what I want. And I trust him. 

My nod is subtle, but it’s enough to put that question at ease.

“Take off your clothes, darling.” His voice is low and quiet, laced with gentle but unwavering authority.

My hands move to the laces as the front of my robes, and I hastily begin to undo them. 

“Slower, my love,” Astarion says, never moving from where he stands in front of the locked door. His eyes lock onto mine, holding them for a long moment as my fingers go still. “Much. Slower.” 

When my hands begin to move again, they are careful and deliberate. I pull the ribbon through one eyelet. Then the next. Each with intent. The ribbon feels cool and smooth as it twines between my fingers. And all the while, I never take my eyes from Astarion’s. 

Finally, enough laces are undone that the robe slips from my shoulders and cascades down my body until it pools at my feet. I smile as my little surprise - the one I’d had to keep Astarion from spoiling on the sofa earlier - is revealed. 

“Gods...” Astarion’s voice is a touch ragged, and I see his hands clench at his sides.

He’s seen this lingerie before, but after seeing his reaction the first time, I’d decided to save it for special occasions, to keep it as a rare treat. It’s the set I purchased back in Baldur’s Gate, shortly after Cazador’s destruction. It is made of small pieces of blood red silk, held together by a series of thin, delicate straps at the hips, shoulders, and torso. 

“Should I remove this, too?” I ask, toying with one of the straps at my hip.

“No!” he says, far too quickly and too desperately. He clears his throat before recovering his composed, authoritative demeanor from before. “No, love. Those stay on. For now.”  

***

you can read the rest - and my other fic - on Ao3! enjoy.

[sketching-shark]

For the character ask game. Part of me wants to say Wukong but.... let's throw a curveball and say Predaking :3

All right @ladyzerodark! World's best robot dragon :D

Okay, so keep in mind that this is coming from someone who never watched Transformers Prime all the way through and knows about this guy a lot through osmosis.

That said, I do think that there's something so interesting and compelling about the basics of Predaking's background that could act as a catalyst to have all sorts of contemplations on everything from the nature of mass extinction to the destructive and self-destructive consequences of warfare, capitalism, and imperialism.

Like, just the fact that Predaking's a clone from the species of cybertronians that went extinct long before TFP's timeline and who was created to be a weapon of war already means that this guy's existence is ripe with all kinds of horrors. And of course all of that is exacerbated by the other cybertronians mostly treating him like a dumb dangerous animal at best or as someone to kill off once he presents a potential threat at worst. Plus there's some really juicy glimpses into how he really wants a family and was really looking forward to more predacons being brought into existence up until both Autobots and Decepticons decided should all be blown up instead. With all of this going on, and with basically everyone else treating him so horribly no matter how intelligent he is and no matter how much he expresses his loyalty to Megatron in both words and deeds (until he realizes how completely he was betrayed) you can understand why he's so angry and such a violent bastard for a good chunk of the series. And he's a big guy, but he's also so young! And from the moment he emerged from a tube you had the closest beings he had to guardians telling him to go kill other guys and not caring about him beyond that! He literally had to teach himself how to read!

Not to mention that in addition to these things about Predaking as an individual, the thing about the extinction of the predacons, like that of our own dinosaurs, is that it was brought on by a completely indifferent cosmic event. I know the main focus of Transformers as a series is on how the Autobot-Decepticon war messed up Cybertron, but tbh I really like the addition of reminders that the universe itself can and will kill you too. Definitely adds another layer to the fucked up nature of warfare; like when you have so much working against you on the cosmic and natural scale, it does show warfare to be incredibly stupid.

I know it's nowhere near canon, but that is one of the reasons why it's my headcanon that Shockwave decided that it would be a logical step to try his hand at bringing back the predacons partially to be weapons of war but mainly because he concluded that restoring their species would be an important step in helping Cybertron recover. I mean, as carnivorous as the predacons were at least THEY never destroyed the biosphere lol.

(tbh I do also like the idea that Predaking comes to develop something of a superiority complex over other cybertronians, at least for awhile, not because of his strength but because of the fact that it was the transformers and not the predacons who deliberately destroyed their home planet).

So yeah, I know that in the show Preaking and the other predacons get all kinds of shit from both Autobots and Decepticons for being violent and savage, but when such statements are coming from bots who quite literally decimated their entire biosphere there's a LOT you could do with pointing out how hollow such accusations ring. It's a very poor predator that destroys the basis of its diet, after all, and I do think there's a really interesting and timely critique you could make on our own globalized civilization as it currently stands by simply noting that for as much as there's been and still is a constant sneering at animals and even many groups of humans for being "dumb" and "uncivilized," the true horror and stupidity lies in having made a civilization and waging never-ending warfare that is literally destroying the basic elements of survival. As such, to me Predaking seems like an great character through to which to both explore a lot of different horrors, but also to offer an alternative ideology to the whole Autobot-Decepticon thing in terms of being like "frag you and your omnicidal drama I want a planet that can give me and mine a good meal every day forever."

[prouvaireafterdark]

Practical Ethics || Chapter Ten

In which Armand and Daniel talk. 

| One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine |

Also on AO3!

***

When Armand wakes, he leaves Daniel sleeping soundly in his bed. He goes about his morning routine the same as always—shower, pray, eat, work—but throughout it all his mind returns again and again to all that transpired yesterday. 

It’s the unknown that bothers him most. He chastises himself for not having the forethought to exchange numbers with Lestat so he would be able to text him for an update on how Louis is doing. It’s too late to do anything about that now, though. He’ll simply have to wait and hope the department is kind enough to send an email to let them know how Louis is recovering. It happened on campus, after all. Word would have gotten around and the decent thing would be to let everyone know Louis is okay before any rumors get out of control.

At that thought, Armand checks his email. He finds no new messages in his inbox save the one from Marius he’d marked unread on purpose as a reminder to finish his work. 

Perhaps after the weekend there’ll be an update, he thinks hopefully.

Without any news, he tries to take solace in the fact that the doctor did not seem overly concerned. Besides, Lestat is surely keeping a close eye on him. However dubious his dedication to his studies is, if anything does happen to Louis, Armand knows Lestat will stop at nothing to get him the help he needs.

Louis will be fine, he tells himself as he opens Marius’ email. You, on the other hand, won’t be if you don’t have this finished for Marius by the end of the weekend.

The threat of Marius’ ire is motivation enough to get started. Armand settles down to work at his small kitchen table without much further distraction.

The afternoon sun is high in the sky by the time Armand hears Daniel groan from the other room. 

His fingers pause above his keyboard at the sound. After a brief moment of deliberation, he rises from his seat and heads down the short hallway that leads to his bedroom. 

Armand lingers at the threshold, leaning against the doorjamb as he watches Daniel wake up properly. It never fails to hold some sense of fascination for him, seeing the man he loves still soft and warm with sleep, his curls sticking up at odd angles. Mundane it may be, but after the harrowing day he had yesterday, Armand considers the sight a pleasure that should never be taken for granted.

Unaware of Armand’s presence, Daniel lies motionless in bed. He’s on his back, his arms raised above his head on his pillow like he’s just stretched and is too lazy to move just yet. Sunlight peeks through the closed blinds on the window by the head of Armand’s bed, casting striped shadows across his body. He’d borrowed one of Armand’s graduate student union shirts to sleep in and as he shoves the covers down to his hips Armand sees that the hem has ridden up nearly to his bellybutton. 

Daniel reaches blindly for the bedside table a moment later, his hand nearly knocking the bottle of Advil Armand had left there for him off the table. He manages to grab it before it rolls too far and with another groan he sits up at last. He opens the bottle and shakes it so a few pills fall into his open palm before he reaches for the tall glass of water sitting on the table. He takes a few greedy gulps before he even puts the pills in his mouth and it’s at that moment that he catches Armand watching him from the doorway.

“Holy shit,” Daniel jumps, nearly spilling his water on the bedspread. “How long have you been standing there?”

Armand laughs and steps into the room. 

“Not long, I assure you,” he says on his way to the bed. He climbs onto it and stretches out beside Daniel on top of the covers, his right elbow propping him up as he continues to look at him. 

“See something you like?” Daniel asks him when the attention becomes too much, his lips curled into an amused smile.

Armand smiles back. 

“Always, beloved,” he tells him, quite seriously, and he’s pleased to see a pink flush brighten Daniel’s cheeks. He has the sudden urge to pull him down to his level and kiss him, but he resists for the moment. He puts two fingers to the bottom of Daniel’s glass instead and encourages him to raise it up toward his lips. “Now be a good boy and take your medicine.”

Daniel glares at him, but Armand knows the heat behind his eyes is most assuredly not from anger. 

“It’s not fair when you call me that,” Daniel says before he does as he’s told, popping the pills into his mouth all at once before taking a sip of his water. 

“When I call you what?” Armand asks, his eyes glued to the way Daniel’s Adam's apple bobs in his throat with each swallow. “‘Beloved’ or ‘good boy’?”

“Both,” Daniel tells him once he’s drained his glass and set it back on the bedside table. He pushes Armand onto his back then and slides down the bed so he’s looking down at him from mere inches away. “You could get me to do anything for you when you call me that and you know it.”

Armand thinks again about Daniel’s frequent drinking, the drugs he takes to study or just unwind after a long day, and the damage he must be doing to his body every time he does it. He wonders if a few well-placed ‘beloved’s would be all it would take to get him to stop, or even cut back. He doubts it very much.

“If only that were true,” Armand sighs as he reaches up to cup Daniel’s face with his palm. His morning stubble scratches softly against his thumb as he strokes a line over his cheekbone. “You’re more stubborn than you give yourself credit for, I fear.”

Daniel laughs at that. “Pot, meet kettle,” he says, gesturing between the two of them.

Armand cocks his head to the side. “What does that mean?” he asks.

“It means that of the two of us only one was stubborn enough to follow through on breaking into his professor’s office even after the other tried to tell him that that was a terrible fucking idea,” Daniel says.

“I wouldn’t say it was a terrible idea,” Armand disagrees. 

“And how do you figure that?” Daniel asks, a deeply skeptical look on his face.

“I learned something. A few somethings, actually,” Armand points out as his eyes dip down to the chain around Daniel’s neck. His fingers follow, pulling the amulet out of his shirt so he can see it. “In the end, it’s what brought us closer together. It’s what made you mine.”

Daniel looks down at where Armand’s thumb is running over the A embossed on the amulet’s face and huffs a soft but incredulous laugh. “I was already yours, Armand,” he reminds him.

“Perhaps,” Armand concedes, “but I didn’t know that I was hurting you. I didn’t know what you needed from me. For getting us to have that conversation, I’d say the whole ordeal was more than worth the trouble.”

Daniel bites his lip as he stares at him for a charged moment, his chest rising and falling with one heavy breath before he surges down to kiss him with so much raw feeling Armand doesn’t even mind that Daniel hasn’t brushed his teeth yet. He drops the amulet and gives himself over to the kiss completely, letting the whole world fall away for one brief but blissful moment.

“I love you,” Daniel tells him when they part, his forehead pressed to Armand's, his fingers tangled in his hair.

“I love you too,” Armand says. 

He leans up with his eyes still closed and blindly steals another kiss, a softer one this time. When they part, Armand looks up at Daniel and sees that his eyes are wet with unshed tears. 

“Hey,” Armand says, his brow creasing with concern. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Daniel reassures him with a watery smile, but Armand is not so convinced when he rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. “Just a lot going on in my head right now.”

With graduation so close and no job yet secured, it isn’t hard for Armand to imagine why. Still, he doesn’t like the tension lingering in Daniel’s body and he likes the space he has put between them even less.

Armand joins Daniel beneath the covers, seeking to get close to him again. As he does, Daniel lifts his arm in invitation and Armand presses himself to his side. He wraps an arm around Daniel’s waist and throws a leg over his thigh. He hopes his presence is as soothing to Daniel as Daniel’s is to him, but if it isn’t enough to distract him from his troubles, Armand, regrettably, has another card up his sleeve.

“Well, I have something to tell you that might cheer you up,” Armand begins.

One of Daniel’s expressive eyebrows raises in curiosity at that.

“I’m listening,” he says.

Armand takes a fortifying breath, mentally preparing himself for the gloating to come. Daniel is lucky he loves him so much.

“You were right,” Armand tells him at last. “Lestat is Louis’ husband.”

Daniel blinks at him and then laughs, his head thrown back and his mouth stretched in a wide grin. Armand decides in that moment that to see him smile like that is well worth any pride he has to swallow.

“I fucking knew it,” Daniel says, turning his head to gaze back at Armand. “How’d you find out?”

“He came to the hospital as Louis’ next of kin,” Armand explains.

“Hospital?” Daniel asks, his expression twisted in sudden confusion, and it is then that Armand realizes how much of this story he has left to tell.

He sighs and begins to tell it. 

“Well?” Armand asks once he’s finished and Daniel is staring at him in silence. “Aren’t you going to say ‘I told you so’?”

“Uh,” Daniel says intelligently, his brow drawn tight with concern. “I’m a little stuck on the part where you had to hold Louis’ head together while the ambulance got there and then spent the next several hours at the hospital consoling your arch nemesis.”

Armand grimaces a little at Daniel’s synopsis of his day. 

“It wasn’t so dramatic as that,” he protests, but then remembers the way Lestat had burst into the ER wearing a period accurate 18th century costume and screaming at the receptionist and wonders if Daniel perhaps has a point. 

“Still, I mean, fuck,” Daniel says, staring at him with wide, sympathetic eyes. “Are you okay?”

Armand blinks at the question, taken off guard by Daniel’s reaction.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asks. 

“Why–?” Daniel starts before he changes tack and continues, “Armand, someone you care about got hurt and you spent hours not knowing if he was going to be okay. And on top of it, you had to sit with his husband, who you hate, while he was an inconsolable wreck. That’s a lot for anyone to deal with.”

“‘Whom,’” Armand corrects him automatically. 

“What?” Daniel asks.

“Its ‘whom,’ not ‘who.’ Lestat is the direct object of the verb in the relative clause,” he explains with all the insufferable pedantry of the philologist who trained him. “And I don’t hate him. I just find him insurmountably irritating at times.”

Daniel looks unamused. “Would you stop deflecting for five minutes and hear what I’m saying?” he asks.

Armand sighs at that. “I hear you,” he says. “And yes, it was horrible and terrifying and I hated every minute of it, but I wasn’t the one who ended up in the hospital. I wasn’t the one who had to sit there and wonder if the man I love more than my own life was going to make it through the night.” 

He staunchly ignores the way his own voice begins to shake the more he rehashes it all, the pain of it burning a hole in his chest he plans to fill with as much of Daniel’s love as he can stand. 

Daniel purses his lips like he wants to say something, but isn’t sure how. Armand cuts him off at the pass and leans in to kiss him softly on the mouth.

“I’m fine, Daniel,” he insists when they part. “I’m just happy to be home with you.”

He watches Daniel melt at that, won over by Armand’s words in spite of how he wanted to argue. Armand takes full advantage, curling tighter around him and resting his head on his chest. 

Daniel sighs, Armand’s head rising and falling with the movement, and begins to play with Armand’s hair the way he likes, gently curling the inky dark strands around his fingers. Armand closes his eyes and lets Daniel’s touch ease the tightness that’s been coiling around his chest. 

He thinks that’s the end of it, that Daniel has let it go and is content to simply let them enjoy each other’s company for a while, but he speaks again a moment later.

“I wish you’d texted me back,” Daniel says, his fingers scratching pleasantly across his scalp. “You don’t have to do everything alone, you know. I would’ve come to sit with you while you waited.”

Daniel’s words are touching, but as Armand tries to imagine it—an inebriated Daniel calling an Uber to drive him to the hospital, or worse still, taking his own car in his haste to be with him and getting himself into an accident—an unpleasant shiver runs down his spine. 

“It’s best that you didn’t,” Armand says, not unkindly as he tightens his arm around Daniel’s waist. “You were not exactly in a state last night to deal with my problems.”

“Sorry,” Daniel audibly cringes. “You were gone a while and I was nervous and, well...”

Armand understands what he’s trying to say. In the months they’ve known each other, he has learned that Daniel often overindulges when he’s feeling stressed and once he starts, it’s difficult for him to stop if he’s left to his own devices. There is one thing he doesn’t understand, though.

“Why were you nervous?” Armand asks him, opening his eyes and lifting his head off his chest to look at him. 

Daniel bites his lip, but doesn’t answer. He looks adorable, to be fair, but it worries him to see. 

“Daniel?” he presses.

“We don’t have to talk about it now,” Daniel says. 

If Daniel had hoped that that response would calm Armand’s worry, it does not. Armand sits up properly, Daniel’s hand falling to the mattress as it slips from his hair.

“What’s going on?” Armand asks him.

Daniel takes a deep breath and sits up so they’re on the same level before he speaks.

“I’ve been thinking about your offer,” he says at last. 

Armand doesn’t have to ask him which offer he means.

“Oh,” he says, his own belly twisting with nerves suddenly. “And?”

“And,” he starts, smiling as he reaches for Armand’s hand and threads their fingers together, “I wanna take you up on it. After graduation, if you still want me to… I’d like to move in with you.”

Armand’s vision fills with light, warm and golden with little swirls of pink. The thought of it—of coming home to Daniel every day, of sharing and building a life with him here in this apartment that now feels so empty the moment Daniel leaves—has his heart nearly full to bursting, his apprehension from moments before nothing but a distant memory. 

He can’t help himself—he practically pounces onto Daniel’s lap, straddling his hips as he smothers him with kisses. He lets go of Daniel’s hand to cradle his face between his palms and Daniel’s arms come around his waist, holding him close as he kisses him back with equal fervor.

“You were nervous about telling me that?” Armand laughs at him when he finally brings himself to pull away, looking down at Daniel’s smiling face with affection so strong Armand is sure there must be cartoon hearts in his eyes. “I love you, you ridiculous boy. Did you think I might have changed my mind?”

Daniel laughs, but the smile in his eyes begins to dim slightly as some unknown thought tempers his happiness.

“No,” he says, looking down as if suddenly finding the V of Armand’s neckline very interesting. “It wasn’t you I was nervous about telling—am nervous about telling.”

“Then who?” Armand asks, not understanding the issue.

It takes a moment for Daniel to meet his eyes once more, and when he does, he confesses, “I’m nervous about telling my parents.”

Ah.

“They don’t know you’re bisexual, do they?” Armand guesses, letting his hands slip from Daniel’s face to rest on the sides of his neck. 

“No,” Daniel confirms. “I didn’t even know I was bisexual until you came along.”

Armand raises his eyebrows skeptically at that. While it’s true that Daniel was relatively inexperienced with men when they met, Armand knows for a fact that he wasn’t his first.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Daniel pouts. “Sucking dick for drugs in bathroom stalls isn’t the same thing as falling in love. Being in denial about my attraction to men was a lot easier before I met you.” 

Armand’s eyes soften, oddly charmed by that statement. “I’m flattered.”

“You should be,” Daniel tells him and that smile begins to come back, bit by bit. “It was only through your relentless determination to drive me completely insane that I had to face the facts.”

Armand laughs. “You say ‘relentless determination’ as if you didn’t put yourself in my path at every opportunity.”

“I did no such thing,” Daniel denies.

“Oh no?” Armand asks. “Then what do you call sprawling out on the grass in the middle of the quad?”

“Enjoying the sun,” Daniel answers. “You should try it sometime.”

“It was November,” Armand counters. 

“Global warming’s a bitch, huh?” he shoots back.

“Alright,” Armand laughs with a shake of his head. “Then how about working at the front desk of the library for weeks even though we both know you hate customer service and would rather be reshelving book returns?” 

“We were short staffed,” Daniel shrugs.

“And studying at the table by the window of the Starbucks across from Trinity Hall?” Armand presses.

“They’re insanely overpriced, but their coffee is excellent,” Daniel answers.

“Yes and there’s another location on the other end of campus that’s closer to the student newspaper’s office,” Armand argues. 

“I needed to get my steps in,” Daniel deadpans.

“Daniel,” Armand laughs, leaning into his space until their foreheads rest together.

“What?” he asks, trying and failing not to laugh along with him.

“Admit it,” Armand insists. “You wanted to be chased. You wanted me to find you again or you wouldn’t have made yourself so easy to find. If you want to blame your bisexual awakening on me, fine. I will gladly wear that as a badge of honor. But let us please not pretend you weren’t begging for another taste when I ran into you in the Commons after Khayman’s Halloween party. If you truly were trying to avoid me, you certainly wouldn’t have looked at me like that when I found you.”

“And how did I look at you?” Daniel asks, the pitch of his voice dipping lower, as if in anticipation of what Armand’s answer will be.

“Like you said yourself earlier,” Armand answers, craning his neck to the side to whisper the words in his ear. “Like you’d do anything for me.” He takes the silver hoop earring dangling from Daniel’s ear between his teeth and gently tugs, quietly delighting in the soft gasp he elicits. “Like you’d let me do anything I wanted to you.” 

Armand feels Daniel’s pulse quicken against his fingertips, feels his hips shift beneath his weight, and when he pulls back to look at his beautiful face he sees his mossy green irises nearly swallowed up by large, doe-like pupils and a rosy flush high on his cheeks. 

“Yes, just like that,” Armand praises him with a tender smile, his eyes hooded as he watches his own thumb run along the edge of Daniel’s parted lips. “I challenge anyone to try to resist this face. I’m sure Helen herself would weep with jealousy at the sight of you.” 

“Fuck,” Daniel groans, his fingers tightening their grip on Armand’s waist. “And you say you didn’t seduce me.”

“Oh, I never said that,” Armand responds, smiling with teeth. “I just said it wasn’t very hard.”

Daniel laughs at that, a sudden, sharp sound that bursts from his chest without permission. 

“You’re such a dick,” he says.

“Lucky for me that’s one of the things you like about me, then,” Armand quips.

Daniel laughs again before he leans in to kiss him once more. Armand has half a mind to push him back against the mattress and find new ways to distract them both from their troubling thoughts, but there’s something he needs to make sure Daniel understands first.

“There’s no shame in wanting who you want, Daniel,” Armand tells him when they part. “You know that, don’t you?”

“I know,” he nods, but his smile dims again in a way Armand does not like.

“Then why are you worried about telling your parents?” Armand asks him gently. “Do you think they’ll have a problem with it?” 

Or is it me you think they’ll have a problem with? he almost continues, but he dares not speak the words aloud. It is not the first time it has occurred to him that his half-Armenian, half-Irish Catholic boyfriend’s parents might not approve of their only son being involved with a Muslim man, but Armand is not sure he’s emotionally prepared to receive the answer to that question today. 

Daniel sucks on his bottom lip as he thinks about it.

“They’re New York Democrats so probably not,” Daniel says, his voice lifting at the end as if in a question. “My grandma would have if she were still alive, but she was a born hater who had a problem with pretty much everything so that’s not really saying much.”

Armand huffs a laugh at that.

“But, you know,” Daniel continues with a shrug. “Just because they don’t complain about pride parades congesting the city doesn’t mean they’ll be happy to hear their son is moving in with his boyfriend.” 

“I’m sure they’ll love you no matter what,” Armand assures him. 

“And if they don’t?” Daniel asks, looking lost in a way Armand has never seen him.

Armand places a kiss on Daniel’s forehead before he wraps his arms tightly across his shoulders and holds him close, his cheek resting on the top of Daniel’s head. 

“Then I’ll just have to make up the difference,” Armand says. 

Daniel’s arms circle his waist once again. Pressed this close, Armand can feel each rise and fall of Daniel’s chest, each beat of his heart as he processes what he has told him. 

“You really think you can do that?” he asks quietly, whispering the words against the hollow of Armand’s throat.

Armand’s heart aches at his question, at the uncertainty and vulnerability in his voice.

“Of course I can,” Armand tells him softly, but with conviction. “I have a lot of love to give, Daniel. To you most of all.”

Daniel’s grip becomes so tight it’s nearly painful as he lets out a harsh breath against his skin, but Armand says nothing more. He only runs his fingers through Daniel’s curls as he takes a moment to compose himself again.

When Daniel pulls back from their embrace, his cheeks are wet with tears. There is a powerful need in his eyes too, one as well-worn and familiar to Armand as a pair of old boots. It is as if he can hear Daniel’s voice in his own head, whispering, begging him to touch him, to kiss him, to love him, now and always. 

Armand has no intention of ever disappointing him.

He gently kisses the tears from Daniel’s flushed cheeks before he leans in to kiss him on the mouth. Daniel’s lips are pleasantly warm against his own and this time when Daniel opens his mouth to deepen the kiss, Armand lets him, his own need for intimacy nearly overwhelming. 

He loses himself completely to the heat of Daniel’s mouth, to the way his fingers grip at his waist and run along his back, to the feel of him warm and solid beneath him. He’s so focused on Daniel, Armand doesn’t even notice how hard he’s getting until strong hands haul him even closer by his hips so he can grind his cock against Daniel’s belly. 

He moans, taken off guard by the sudden burst of pleasure he feels at the friction. Daniel’s mouth curls into a satisfied smile against his own as he goes in for another kiss, his palms sliding down to cup Armand’s ass over his sweatpants. 

Armand nips at Daniel’s bottom lip in retaliation and the smug grin drops from his face as he groans, his grip on Armand tightening for just a moment while his lip is caught between his teeth. 

Armand reaches for the hem on Daniel’s borrowed shirt then and breaks their kiss to pull it up and over his head, desperate to feel him skin to skin. Once his shirt is off, Armand pushes Daniel down by the shoulders, sending him flat onto his back. From this new perspective, he can see how Daniel’s lips have become red and wet where Armand had bitten him. It gives him an idea.

“Hey,” Daniel pouts, moving to sit up again, but Armand just pushes him back down with his hands planted on his chest.

“Stay there,” he tells him with a firm, but loving voice.

Any further protests Daniel might have made die in his throat immediately as he does as he’s told. 

“Good boy,” Armand says, rewarding Daniel’s obedience with a smile as he strips off his own shirt and tosses it to the side to deal with later.

If Daniel’s eyes weren’t nearly black with desire before they certainly are now. Armand doesn’t give himself long to enjoy the view before he follows him down to the bed and pulls him into another feverish kiss. 

Daniel is quick to touch him again, his hands warm against Armand’s cold skin as they eagerly travel the expanse of his back and try to pull him even closer. Armand begins to rock their hips together, grinding his cock against Daniel’s through their clothes. It’s good, but not nearly enough to sate the desire coursing through him.

It’s not long before Armand begins to trail warm, wet kisses down to his neck. Daniel must sense Armand’s intentions because his breath begins to come quickly then, his heart racing with anticipation as Armand lingers there, lavishing his sensitive skin with attention with his lips and tongue. 

“Please,” Daniel begs him after a few moments of teasing, leaning his head back onto the pillow and baring his throat to his mouth.

Armand smiles at Daniel’s impatience. They’ve only just started and the begging has already begun. Were this any other time, Armand would draw this out, make him wait for it that much longer, until he was so wound up he would pop like a bottle of warm champagne at the first press of Armand’s teeth. 

Right at this moment, however, he can’t think of a single reason to deny him. With one last tender kiss to his throat, Armand finally gives Daniel what he wants and delicately sinks his teeth into his flesh—not enough to break the skin, but just enough to hurt. 

Daniel moans, arching his neck into the bite, his cock so hard beneath him he must be leaking through his boxers by now. 

Armand soothes the pain with an open-mouthed kiss before he does it again on the other side of his neck without warning. 

Daniel keens, higher this time at the unexpected pain, and as Armand runs his tongue over the indents left by his own teeth, Daniel calls his name. 

Armand ignores him at first, thinking it only an impassioned exclamation, until he hears him say it again a moment later.

“Armand,” he pants, restlessly squirming beneath him.

“What is it, Daniel?” he asks, lifting his head to look at him. “What do you need?”

“I need you,” Daniel whimpers, his hips rolling insistently upward, seeking friction. There are tears gathered at the corners of Daniel’s eyes, but that’s not unusual when they play like this. 

“I’m here,” Armand soothes him. 

He shifts to the side of Daniel, one leg still thrown over his thigh to give himself more space. The sheets have migrated well below their hips and as he looks down Armand can see now the small damp stain spreading across the front of Daniel’s tented gray boxer briefs. 

Daniel lets out a plaintive noise at the new distance between them, but it’s shortly followed by a soft gasp as Armand slips his hand beneath the elastic waistband of his underwear and wraps his hand around him, his thumb circling the slippery head of his cock.  

“How do you need me, beloved?” Armand asks him, his voice low as he spreads the precome weeping from his slit down the length of his cock. He starts to jerk him off nice and slow as he continues, “I’ll give you anything you want. Do you want to finish in my hand, just like this?” 

Daniel shakes his head. Armand kisses his cheek before he places his lips at his ear.

“How about in my mouth then? Or with me inside you?” he asks, listing the options as they come to mind, before he finally adds, “I’ll even let you fuck me if you want to.”

Daniel’s cock twitches in his grip as soon as he says it and Armand hides his smile against the curve of Daniel’s jaw. It was an impulsive suggestion, but the thought of it fills Armand with a need he hasn’t felt in a very long time.

“Is that it, Daniel?” he asks as he presses a kiss to his throat. “Do you want to fuck me in our bed?”

Daniel lets out a shuddering breath. When he shifts to meet Armand’s eyes there’s something hesitant about his expression, the desire he’d just been experiencing taking a back seat for the moment.

“You know I do, but…” Daniel says, his voice tentative like he isn’t sure how to put his thoughts into words. “Are you sure you want me to?” 

It’s no wonder why he’s asking. It’s not something he’s ever offered Daniel before. In fact, the one time Daniel had brought up the idea of switching early on in their relationship, Armand had shot him down immediately. 

For the longest time, the act reminded him too much of Marius and the ways he had taken control from him for Armand to ever wish to repeat it. He likes to be the one in charge these days, to be the one making decisions for himself, and it has been hard for him to divorce the idea that being fucked means being submissive—and being controlled—from his mind. As innocent as Daniel’s suggestion had been all those months ago, it had filled him with dread, fear gripping him suddenly and completely. He told himself he could never allow himself to be vulnerable like that again—not after how hard he’d fought to pick up the pieces of his heart and regain his autonomy after Marius abandoned him in Venice.

As he looks down at Daniel now, though, his heart full to bursting at the sight of him, it doesn’t feel like submission to offer him this. It feels like love.

“I’m sure,” he promises him. “I trust you.”

Daniel’s eyes soften at that and when he leans in to kiss him again, it’s gentle and sweet. Armand quickly deepens the kiss and before long the heat has built between them again, reigniting the need burning inside them both. 

“Okay,” Daniel pants when he pulls away, more to himself than to Armand before he looks him in the eyes again and asks him, “How do you want to do this? Maybe on your hands and knees? That was easier for me at first.”

The tiniest tremor of fear runs through Armand at that suggestion.

“No,” he shakes his head, the answer coming a little too quickly for it to sound nonchalant. “I need to see your face.”

I need to know it’s you, he thinks, but doesn’t say aloud.

Daniel gives him an easy smile. “Sure thing, boss,” he says. “How about you lie back for me then?”

Armand nods and rolls onto his back. He pulls off his underwear along with his sweatpants, kicking them both haphazardly to the floor as Daniel climbs off the bed and pokes around in his bedside table for a minute. He returns a moment later with a bottle of their preferred brand of lube and a box of condoms, placing them on the bed beside Armand.

Armand takes a deep breath as Daniel nudges his legs apart and moves between them. The pleasure he experiences as Daniel settles his weight on top of him and rocks their hips together is dulled by the nervous feeling suddenly creeping in on him. He tries to shove it down with a string of comforting affirmations—It’s just Daniel. There’s nothing to be scared of. He loves you, more than you deserve—but it’s difficult to ignore. 

“Armand,” Daniel says suddenly, interrupting Armand’s train of thought. 

He must have closed his eyes because he opens them now to see Daniel looking down at him, his green eyes warm and searching. 

“You with me?” he asks, leaning over him on his elbow so he can reach up with his other hand to brush the backs of his fingers over Armand’s cheek. His gentle touch tickles a little, but Armand is so disarmed by his question he barely notices. 

“Always,” Armand tells him, his voice scarcely above a whisper.

Daniel smiles softly and leans in to kiss him then. Armand feels the weight on his chest grow lighter with every reassuring press of Daniel’s lips. The distinctive scent of stale cigarette smoke and faded cologne that clings to his curls fills Armand’s nose once more and he finds a strange sense of comfort in it.

It’s just Daniel. There’s nothing to be scared of. He loves you, more than you deserve.

“Tell me if you need a break or if you want to stop, okay?” Daniel says when they part.

Armand nods distractedly, his eyes still glued to Daniel’s mouth. 

“Ah, ah,” Daniel chastises with a smirk and Armand’s eyes flick back up to Daniel’s, his brow drawn in confusion. “I have it on very good authority that communication is very important at times like this. Can you repeat that back for me so I know you understand?”

Armand rolls his eyes, but it makes him laugh too. He’s had Daniel do this for him many times before, just to make sure Daniel remembers he can say no or ask for a break if things get to be too much. With their history of miscommunication and Daniel’s occasional reluctance to share what goes on inside his beautiful head, it felt important that they make it routine to ensure Daniel is safe, especially during their more intense scenes. To see Daniel flipping the script on him, so to speak, is surprisingly endearing.

“I will tell you if I need a break or if I want to stop,” Armand tells him. “Does that satisfy you, Daniel?”

“It’ll do,” he grins wider with as much of a shrug as he can manage from his position. 

Armand rolls his eyes again and huffs another quiet laugh before he surges up to kiss the smile off of Daniel's face. This time, when Daniel's hips rock against him, the tension Armand felt earlier is nothing but a memory and a soft sound of pleasure escapes him, caught by Daniel’s kiss.

Daniel indulges him for a long moment before his lips leave Armand's mouth and move to his neck. He kisses a lazy path from his throat to his collarbone and finally down to his sternum. He feels one of Daniel's hands cup the defined muscles of his chest, his thumb flicking over one of his nipples before he turns his head and latches his mouth onto the other. 

Armand moans, his thighs dropping open a little wider around Daniel's waist as he starts to suck. He gives Armand a taste of his own medicine, alternating between teasing his nipples with his lips and tongue before tugging them between his teeth. It distracts him well enough that Armand doesn’t even notice the bottle of lube has been uncapped until he feels Daniel's slick fingers between his cheeks. He must have warmed the lube between his fingers first because it isn’t cold like he’s expecting when he rubs them over his hole. 

Armand gasps softly as Daniel’s finger finally breaches him. As familiar as the sensation was to him once, the stretch feels odd at first—uncomfortable, even—as Daniel starts to work him open with one finger and then two. He tries his best to relax and focus on the sucking heat of Daniel’s mouth on his chest instead, but his erection starts to flag a little anyway. It doesn’t help that Daniel hasn’t found his prostate yet—whether by choice or inexperience, Armand isn’t sure—and Armand begins to grow restless, desperate for the pleasure he knows Daniel is capable of giving him.

Something must show on his face because when Daniel lifts his mouth from Armand’s chest to look at him, he asks him, “How are you feeling?” 

“Okay,” Armand tells him, trying hard not to squirm. 

“Hmm,” Daniel hums thoughtfully, studying his face as he pushes his fingers back inside him. When he starts to pull them out again, he curls them toward Armand’s navel and asks, “How about now?” 

Bright golden sunspots burst behind Armand’s eyes as Daniel's fingers finally stroke over his prostate. 

“Ah, fuck,” Armand cries, his back bowing off the mattress, his hand clutching at Daniel's shoulder. “Daniel.”

Daniel laughs softly at the drama of his reaction, shifting up the bed to press a kiss to the corner of Armand's parted lips.

“What, you think I didn’t learn a thing or two from you?” he smiles, curling his fingers once more and dragging a heated moan from deep in Armand’s chest as he rubs against that spot inside him. “You've been a very thorough teacher.”

He looks entirely too pleased with himself, but Armand cannot bring himself to care so long as he keeps touching him there. 

“Don't stop,” he gasps, canting his hips into Daniel's touch.

“Anything you say, boss,” Daniel manages to answer before Armand tugs him into a proper kiss,  both hands buried in his wild curls.  

Daniel kisses him back eagerly and it’s not long before he has Armand writhing on three of his fingers, his cock once more a heavy weight on his stomach. 

“Enough,” Armand whines when the tension begins to build too much, reaching for Daniel's wrist to still his hand. “Please.”

“Please what?” Daniel asks him, like he doesn’t know, like it isn’t fucking obvious what Armand is so desperate for. 

Frustrated tears begin to gather in Armand’s eyes. This has to be revenge for their first night together, when Armand fingered Daniel in his small twin bed until he nearly bit through his own lip so the partygoers outside their door wouldn’t hear him begging for it. It had been fun for him then to delay the inevitable, to watch Daniel approach the edge again and again, so close to falling apart Armand could feel him tightening desperately around his fingers. The prospect of Daniel doing the same to him now, though, is almost too much for him to bear. 

“Fuck me,” Armand answers, too strung out to put much force behind the words. 

Though his voice lacks the usual power of his commands, Daniel obeys him all the same. With one more tender kiss, Armand feels Daniel’s fingers withdraw from his body before he sits back on his knees between Armand’s thighs and reaches for the bottle of lube he left lying on the bed. 

Armand misses his warmth immediately, hating how the cool air conditioning feels against his heated skin. He watches, propped up on his elbows, as Daniel rolls a condom down his cock and spreads some lube over himself with a loose fist. 

Just as he thinks Daniel is finally about to fuck him, he squeezes a little more lube into his hand and brings two fingers back to Armand's hole, slipping them easily back inside him. Armand is about to groan a complaint about how long he’s making him wait for it when he notices the focus in Daniel’s expression as his fingers spread more lube inside him.

He realizes then that Daniel isn’t dragging this out merely for his own amusement—he's trying to make sure Armand is ready. 

The thought strikes him mute for a moment. He doesn’t quite know what to do with that. No one he’s ever been with—not even Marius on his best day—has ever handled him with such care. 

“I won’t break, you know,” Armand says quietly.

“I know,” Daniel says. He curls his fingers just a little as he eases them out of Armand’s body, once more pulling a gasp from Armand. He leans over him then, their faces so close Daniel’s features start to blur as he says, “But that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna do my best to make sure I don’t hurt you.”

It’s hard to argue with that, especially when Daniel silences any protest he could possibly make by capturing his lips in a kiss. 

“Can you lift your hips for me for a second?” Daniel asks him when he pulls away.

Armand swallows the emotions rising in his throat and complies without a word. He lets Daniel shove a pillow beneath his hips, raising them so he'll have a better angle. Once he’s exactly where Daniel wants him, Daniel finally takes his own cock in hand.

Armand watches between his thighs as Daniel lines his cock up against his hole, his heart pounding with anticipation.

“Ready?” Daniel asks him.

Armand nods, not trusting his voice.

Twin groans fill the air as the thick head of Daniel’s cock pushes past Armand’s rim. If he thought Daniel's careful preparation was gratuitous, he was wrong. It doesn't hurt, but with every inch Daniel sinks into him Armand feels a little like he's being split open, like Daniel is carving out a space for himself inside him.

“Oh god,” Daniel moans, sounding every bit as overwhelmed as Armand feels. “Fuck, you feel so good, baby.”

Armand opens his mouth to speak, but he can hardly manage more than an inarticulate groan. It’s like all the air has been pushed out of his lungs and all he can focus on is the all-consuming fullness inside him. He drops his head back against his pillow and tries to breathe through it. He reaches for his own cock where it lies trapped and leaking between their bellies, but Daniel lightly bats his hand away and wraps his own around him instead. 

“Let me,” he says and starts to stroke him, his hand still slick with lube. 

The glide of Daniel’s hand over his cock is the perfect distraction as he adjusts to the feeling of his cock inside him. A fire catches low in his belly that grows and grows until Armand is urging Daniel to move, his legs wrapped high up on his waist and his hands touching him wherever he can reach.

With a few experimental rolls of his hips, Daniel starts to find his rhythm, fucking him with increasingly strong, steady thrusts that have Armand panting for more. He shouts as the head of Daniel’s cock bumps his prostate, pleasure bursting in sunspots behind his eyes.

“Right there, baby?” Daniel asks him, and he doesn't wait for an answer as he does it again, angling his hips just right and tearing another moan from Armand’s chest. Daniel starts to fuck him in earnest then with sharp thrusts that make punched out little sounds fall from Armand's lips as his hand still twists around his cock. 

He watches Armand closely from above, as if committing every gasp, every moan, every sigh he makes to memory. Armand is no stranger to exhibitionism, but this is different. The attention makes him feel raw, flayed open and bare, as if his soul—not his body—is exposed for all the world to see. 

Except it isn't the world looking down at him with devotion in its eyes. It's Daniel, the person he trusts most, and there is such freedom in that, he realizes, in knowing that someone sees you, all of you, and loves you all the same.

“Kiss me,” Armand tells him, begs him, and Daniel is quick to follow orders, slowing his movements to a deep, dirty grind that has Armand's toes curling as he licks into his mouth. 

Armand kisses him until he can barely breathe. He’s gasping as they part, drawing in greedy breaths as he looks up at Daniel like he's the only thing that matters. The afternoon sun pales in comparison to the golden light Armand sees emanating from him as he hovers over him, his chest glistening with sweat as he drives his cock into him over and over, just where he needs it. 

Of course it does, he thinks, a little deliriously, as he reaches up to cup Daniel’s face in his hands, staring intently into his mossy green eyes. What is a mediocre star compared to him?

It’s that thought that echoes in his mind as he feels the tension in his belly coiling tighter, his orgasm rapidly approaching. His world narrows to the hot drag of Daniel's cock inside him and within moments, Armand is coming with hardly a sound, his cock jerking hard in Daniel's grip as he makes a mess of them both.

“That's it, baby. Come for me,” Daniel groans as he fucks him through it until Armand’s thighs are trembling on either side of his hips and he’s on the edge of overstimulation.

Daniel follows him over the edge a moment later, moaning into Armand’s neck and shoving himself so deep inside him Armand is sure he’ll feel him there for days. Armand holds him close as they both catch their breath, one hand raking his fingers through Daniel’s sweat-damp curls as the other traces patterns over his shoulder.

A small sound of discomfort escapes Armand as Daniel pulls his softening cock out of him. Daniel places an apologetic kiss to his lips before he moves off of him to sit up. He disposes of the condom, tying it off before dropping it in the trash can beside the bed. 

He feels uncomfortably sticky and in desperate need of another shower, but when Daniel lies back down on the bed next to him, Armand can’t help but seek him out again, rolling over so he can rest his head on Daniel’s chest, too loose-limbed to even think about cleaning up just yet. 

“So how’d I do?” Daniel asks him, his breath warm against Armand’s forehead as he wraps an arm around him, his fingers resting in the dip of Armand’s waist. 

Armand huffs a delirious laugh against his collarbone. 

“Ask me again when I can feel my legs,” he says, the dark hair covering Daniel’s chest tickling his cheek. 

Daniel laughs and presses a kiss to Armand’s hair. 

“That good, huh?” He asks, sounding wildly pleased with himself. Armand supposes that after that performance he deserves the praise. 

He lifts his head off Daniel's chest to look at him properly. His smile is smug, his cheeks are flushed pink, and his hair looks utterly ridiculous. Armand falls just a little more in love with him.

“It’s always that good with you, Daniel,” Armand tells him, his own smile impossibly fond.

Daniel pulls him into a kiss then. It must be their thousandth one today and yet it still feels just as powerful as their first. Armand stays close when they part, pulling back just far enough to see Daniel's face. 

“Are you feeling any better?” Armand asks him.

“Yeah,” he nods, and this time it is convincing. “Thank you.”

Armand tilts his head curiously at that. “For what?” he asks. 

“For what you said,” Daniel answers. “For being here. It means a lot.”

Armand doesn't know what to say. Before he can try to find the words, Daniel continues.

“And it goes both ways, you know,” Daniel tells him. “Whatever happens with Louis or Marius or whoever else is giving you shit, I'll be with you, okay? We can handle it together.”

Armand isn't quite sure what that would look like—not with the sort of problems Marius gives him on a semi-regular basis—but he must admit he likes the sound of it. 

“Together,” he promises and seals it with a kiss.

He rests his head on Daniel's chest again when they part, relishing the warmth and comfort of his embrace. He still has work he ought to finish before the day is over, but it can wait. There's always tomorrow, after all, and this moment feels too precious for him to ruin by getting out of bed right now.

It should come as no surprise, then, that he finds a way to ruin it anyway. 

He's mapping the freckles on Daniel's chest with the tip of his finger when Daniel calls his name.

“Hey, Armand?” he asks.

“Hmm?” Armand hums, turning his face up to look at him.

“Have you told your parents about us yet?” Daniel asks him. “Or are you in the same boat as I am with having to come out and everything?”

Armand goes very still. 

It’s a fair question. He can’t blame Daniel for asking it. Neither of those truths soften the blow to Armand's heart.

Because Armand has always been secure in the knowledge, at least in the flashes of memory he still retained, that his parents—wherever they were—loved him very much. It had been his sole source of comfort in the hellish catacombs he had once called home, the one thing his tormentors could never take from him. As he was forced to sleep on rough stone floors night after night and was savagely beaten for the crime of even mentioning their existence, he never let himself forget that somewhere in the world, his parents were looking for him. Somewhere in the world, they still loved him.

And as he considers the implications of Daniel’s question, it occurs to him that, were he to ever somehow find them again and tell them about his life—about Daniel—that there is a chance that that might no longer be true.

The wall Armand keeps in between the raw, jagged piece of his heart that mourns them and the rest of the world crumbles. A sudden, gaping emptiness opens in his chest, so wide and all-consuming he almost doesn’t notice the racing of his heart. The features of Daniel’s face blur beyond recognition and his voice, his beautiful voice, sounds warped and fuzzy as it reaches his ears.

“Armand?” he hears him say, a haze of confusion rounding out the edges of the consonants.

Armand opens his mouth to speak, but no sound comes out.

“Shit, was it bad?” Daniel asks, jumping to a logical, but incorrect assumption.

Daniel reaches up to cup his cheek, but Armand flinches at the unexpected touch. His eyes focus once more and he sees the way Daniel's brow is furrowed with worry, concern etched into every line on his face. 

The guilt he feels is crushing. He hates that he did that, that he'd ruined Daniel's happiness even for a moment. He needs to get away from him before he makes it worse, he needs to—

“I need a shower,” he manages to say, his own voice drowned out by the ringing in his ears. He climbs off the bed without waiting for Daniel to reply. 

He leaves his bedroom and crosses the hall to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He turns the shower on in the hopes that the noise will drown out the thoughts running through his mind too quickly to even articulate. 

When it doesn't work, he gets inside the shower. The water is ice cold as he steps under the spray, but Armand barely notices. He stands with his back against the cool tile wall and slides down to the floor, his knees pulled tight to his chest.

He can hear Daniel calling his name, but he can't find his voice to answer him. Faintly, he registers the bathroom door swinging open on its hinges. He can't bring himself to take his eyes off his knees.  

The water stops. A towel is draped across his back and shoulders. Warm arms wrap around him, holding him tight. He smells stale cigarette smoke and faded cologne. Bit by bit the world comes back into focus.

“Baby, what happened?” Daniel asks him, his tone sharp with worry and confusion. “Talk to me, please, what's going on?”

“They're gone,” Armand tells him, the words leaving his mouth as if he learned to say them by rote, his voice as hollow as his heart. “They're gone.”