#ignoring the dirt transforming into a woman part

[bugwolfsstuff]

—from the wikipedia page of metamorphosis in greek myth

Headcanon that once Triton warms up to Percy, he just hands him a clod of dirt and dips with no explanation leaving Percy confused

[wheneclipsefalls]

Ma Neteyam pt.9

Part 8, Part 10

Summary: Actions come with consequences, ones that Kxolo is willing to dish out. 

Warnings: stockholm syndrome, power imbalance, sexual tension, corporal punishment, spanking, male x male, omegaverse, alpha/beta/omega dynamics, mentions of explicit smut, orgasm denial (18+ ONLY!)

A/N: Thanks for being patient with me while I completed my finals. Hope you enjoy this long awaited chapter!

A small whimper escaped Neteyam’s lips as Tsahik continued to dab the ointment along the cut. The constant digging and disinfecting to get the dirt out was tedious and aggravating for the omega. He figured however it would have been more manageable were it not for the heavy gaze that pierced through him during the process. Set on his haunches, Kxolo watched with a persistent intensity that had Neteyam shifting away from the gaze at every chance available. 

“You must hold still.” Tsahik hissed with growing impatience. There were very few words exchanged between the three in the tent, just enough to find out that their current Tsahik was Kxolo’s distant cousin. Neteyam yearned to ask her questions about him, perhaps get her to divulge useful information, but it was impossible with the brooding alpha staring him down as if he would sprout wings and fly away at any second. 

Hot stinging pain shot the boy from his seated position, away from the mysterious liquid being poured onto his cut. The woman’s lips turned into an indignant frown as he scooted to the other side of the tent. One glance between the Tsahik and Olo’eyktan had him regretting the decision immediately. 

There was no time to make an escape before Kxolo was grasping him by the ankle and pulling him back across the tent. Neteyam was manhandled and secured in the Olo’eyktan’s lap with a strength he resented. Kxolo was gentle but firm as he forced the boy’s arms behind his back, opening him up for further treatment. Neteyam attempted to squirm out and exclaim the lack of need for such restraints but the objections were ignored. 

“How bad is it?” The alpha’s deep voice cut through the expressed whimpers and hisses coming from Neteyam as the woman continued to dress the injury. 

“It is minor, Olo’eyktan. However, it would have been in a better state if someone had not rolled around on the forest floor. We are lucky it is not already infected.” Neteyam’s anger heated to a simmer at the woman’s reprimanding. She treated his escape attempt the same as a child wanting to play in the mud. 

Kxolo ran small soothing circles along his biceps during particularly loud hisses. The one relief was not having to feel the heated gaze upon him anymore, but it came at a cost. The omega was in awe at how his body was still able to become aroused by the same male who was holding the looming punishment over his head. Regardless, the innate need to be touched and comforted after such a taxing experience, constantly tugged at Neteyam. 

“It should be healed in no time. He can even put pressure on it as long as it is protected by a cloth wrapping. Make sure the ointment is applied daily to combat infection.” The woman sighed softly. 

One look at those tired eyes had Neteyam’s gut twisting with the familiar feeling of guilt. He was sure the last thing Tshaik wanted to do was bandage him up in the middle of the night. His guilt however transformed into panic as she finished securing the cloth and signaled to let the two know he was finished. 

Determined hands grasped around the boy’s hips had him off of Kxolo’s lap and standing upright within seconds of her release. He swallowed a whimper at the feel of the Olo’ekytan snatching him by the wrist and dragging him behind quickly. Neteyam toiled stubbornly underneath the hold, throwing his body weight in the opposite direction and digging his heels into the grass below. 

“Kxolo wait! Please I just need to wait with Lo’ak till our parents arrive so I can speak to them.” The words drifted away with the wind. Neteyam’s heart lurched as he was continually lugged across the sleeping village. The only light present was that off in the distance by Home Tree. The twisting and struggling to get a look did little to reveal Lo’ak presumed state. 

“Alpha please!” His urgent pleas had the older male stopping in his tracks. 

The inertia sent Neteyam flying forward only to be caught in Kxolo's grip, arms held close to his chest. The puncturing look shot the omega’s body into a shriveled posture with his head ducked to avoid the heat. Kxolo’s massive frame dominated his own in strength and height, yet another reminder of how vulnerable Neteyam was to the will of his alpha. 

“So now it’s alpha please. How quick you are to change your tune when you need something from me. One second I have you clawing at my skin for release and the next, batting your eyes at me like an obedient omega.” Ice chilled through his veins, locking every muscle into place at the seething words. 

Neteyam’s eyes dared not stray away from the chest in front of him, but the hot breath from above flowed across his skin and sent another wave of anxiety. A prey caught, awaiting its demise. 

“You will never understand the fear that tormented me tonight.” Kxolo’s usual silky baritone distorted into a vivid shadow that encompassed Neteyam. “If you insist on defying me then throw a fit, steal some alcohol, take out your anger on me, but Eywa Neteyam, do NOT put yourself in danger. Do not make me mutter prayers to the Great Mother under my breath while scouring the forest for you, afraid of what state I may find you in!” 

Kxolo clutched the omega’s jaw tightly, eyes forced to lock with his own. Neteyam’s mouth ran dry, heart skipping a beat. The eerie silence that followed the reprimanding set the puzzle pieces in his brain together. The reality of the situation came into focus and there were no words that were about to get him out of the inevitable consequences. Submission, fear and anger all fought for the reins. 

“I wasn’t doing it for fun.” The sentiment slipped through his fingers, allowing immediate regret to crawl in. The flash in Kxolo’s eyes grabbed Neteyam’s heart in a tight grip. 

“Your pride blinds you, Neteyam. Tonight was not about freedom or reuniting with your family because you know as well as me that running away was going to yield nothing but contention between these clans. No,” his breath caught in his throat. “It was about your distrust in me. You will not allow me to make you happy, to sort out this dilemma. And now, I am forced to not trust you.” 

Tears stung at the back of the omega’s eyes, ready to fall into a waterfall of emotion. No time was granted for a response as their march continued. A whirlwind of heavy feeling spun into a hysterical entanglement of confusion inside of the boy. Battling perspectives fired off at one another, each determined to stake a claim in Neteyam’s resolve. 

Their arrival at the base of the tree leading to the hut came all too soon. Neteyam was led up the trunk, trapped by the massive body trailing behind him. The hut was slightly astray, weapons and table flipped over, as if to see if the omega was simply hiding under the plank of wood. Neteyam idly wondered who had been the first to find their home empty. He envied no Na’vi that was saddled with the task of informing Kxolo. 

“Let’s get this over with.” Kxolo grumbled, easily flipping the table back onto its legs with one hand. The male sat on the table, legs spread and feet firmly planted on the woven material. Neteyam fiddled with the beads on his loincloth, watching the alpha nervously. Fear was the only emotion that was able to overpower lust at the sight before him. His body remembered all too well what pleasure those massive hands and structured hips had delivered him. 

“Come here.” Two curled fingers beckoned the boy closer. The impatience in the tone was the only motivator for Neteyam’s shuffling feet. When finally within arm’s reach, the omega was yanked forward till his thighs bumped against the now closed knees. “Over you go.” 

Humiliation seeped into his chest as he realized Kxolo was waiting for Neteyam to bend himself over the toned thighs. It was an act of submission, and one that he was not quite sure he was ready to hand over yet. He gulped, feeling the heat from Kxolo’s narrowed eyes. 

“My patience is not endless, omega.” Out of fear or determination, Neteyam was not sure, but his body remained rigidly upright. Nostrils flared as the Olo’eyktan let out a forced sigh. “Have it your way then.” He growled.

A vice-like grip on the back of his neck forced the boy to clumsily collapse across Kxolo’s legs. The alpha easily maneuvered Neteyam’s small frame until his backside was vulnerably upturned with his upper body hanging off the side. The omega’s attitude was fueled by fear as his legs frantically kicked and hips swiveled in an effort to roll off. The outburst was quickly nipped into a bud by Kxolo’s left legs clamping down over the writhing limbs. Neteyam’s tail whipped harshly against the alpha’s broad chest as his fingernails dug into Kxolo’s ankle. 

The vivid memories from the last punishment spurred on the rebellion. Neteyam realized that his previous ignorance to the alpha’s strength before had been an unrecognized blessing. Tension bled into every muscle in preparation for the looming pain. He twisted in every which way, looking for a weakness that would yield release. 

“Keep struggling but I think we have already established it grants you nothing.” Neteyam grit his teeth as Kxolo’s large palms began to brush against his cheeks. His tail was once more caught and wrapped around the width of the Olo’eyktan’s hand, effectively steering it out of the way. 

“This isn’t necessa-”The sentence was choked into a shriek as the first blow landed on his right cheek. The intense sting sent a shock wave across his spine, shivering whimpers past the omega’s lips. 

“I wish that were true, baby boy. However, your actions only serve to prove how much you require consistent discipline.” Kxolo yanked shortly at the wrapped tail, causing a squeal to escape Neteyam. 

No forewarning was given for the onslaught of spanks that followed. Relentless and unyielding, the repetitive slaps against his backside bloomed a quickly glowing blush to the cheeks. He struggled subconsciously against the increasing pain and helplessness. Every hit was trailed by another with no time to breath or think in between. 

“What you did tonight was not only rebellious but dangerous. You force me to dish out harsh punishments in order to protect you.” A particularly sharp swat landed on one sitspot, fire erupting from the spot and up towards Neteyam’s ears. The pitiful whine that echoed across the room had his ears pushing backwards in embarrassment. “I may not enjoy doing it, but make no mistake, omega, I will do what has to be done.” The growl accompanied by another series of painful hits sent more goosebumps prickling at the boy’s skin. 

“Do not confuse my patience for leniency.” There was nothing lenient about the spanks against Neteyam’s ass, zeroing in on the curve of his left cheek to hit with impressive precision. The omega’s whines increased into screams as the spot was abused before proceeding to choose another area to torment. 

The pattern continued mercilessly. Less than a few seconds were given to catch his breath before another onslaught of slaps were administered to another vulnerable patch of smooth skin. Eventually his scratching and struggling transformed into the boy’s hands needily grasping at Kxolo’s ankle and calf, looking for some resemblance of comfort. The contact became the only thing that grounded him as he continued to endure the punishment. 

“Please p-please!” Neteyam begged, already on the cusp of tears. The only response was a fleeting touch of condolence against his inflamed cheeks before the alpha continued. 

His backside quickly became inflamed to the touch, darker red spots indicating what points had been focused on. To his horror, Neteyam found that his thighs were no longer safe from the raining hits. 

The sensitive area brought on a new spur of whimpers and pleas as it burned and tinged under the pointed strikes. His mind spun through a haze as he tried to remember what had landed him here. The omega held tightly to the reasons that drove his anger, but they were quickly becoming intertwined with the pull towards submission. His hindbrain raged with the need to show the innate omega instincts. Promises of safety and love from his alpha, led these decisions until Neteyam unknowingly twisted his head to the side in order to present himself to the Olo’eyktan above. 

“Such a shame, little one.” Kxolo purred patronizingly. His large palm danced across the swell of Neteyam’s ass, bringing the slightest bit of relief. “Hate to tear up such a pretty little ass.” The rushing blood to the cheeks casted a prominent red to decorate the curves. Neteyam craned his neck further, preening at the soft touches.

The relief was broken abruptly as the unexpected swats continued along his sitspots. The shocking pain finally broke the wall of tears that had been building in his golden eyes. They flowed across his freckled forehead as Neteyam hung his head and accepted his fate. 

Time swiveled and warped as Neteyam lost track of its hold on the moment. He couldn’t recall or even calculate how long the rains came down or how many tears he shed during the punishment. 

“Don’t. Ever. Scare. Me. Like. That. Again. Omega.” Every word was accentuated by a honed spank to the sensitive area. The screams almost drowned out the fierce command, but Kxolo continued regardless. 

Neteyam meekly hid his face into Kxolo’s calf as he clung to the male. His only luxury was the feel of the familiar skin against his cheek, figuratively petting at his hindbrain. The surging emotions bubbling in his throat climbed higher with every ache that rippled through his lower body. 

“Running off during the middle of a potential lockdown.” Kxolo gritted out. “Risking your safety for a mediocre plan with pointless goals.” The alpha began to deepen the red shade along Neteyam’s thighs once more. “Why do we keep finding ourselves back here, baby boy?” 

The words muddled into ambiguous sounds along the omega’s tongue. Nothing close to a response could be deciphered. 

“I thought we had learned from last time. Did I not properly get my point across?” Kxolo acutely landed his large hand against the boy’s ass for emphasis. Neteyam only continued to whine. 

“Answer, Neteyam.” He demanded. The echo of skin against skin resonated throughout the room. He struggled to string together a tangible sentence. 

“N-no no a-alpha you did!” Kxolo hummed thoughtfully at the response, swats now landing in unpredictable patterns along the glowing skin. 

“And what was my point, baby boy?” 

Neteyam blanked at the question. 

What was left of his string of thoughts tried to steer back towards the memories of that night but every inflicting burn yanked it into the present. It was difficult to even think about the parallel of that memory, let alone recall the words Kxolo had strictly spoken. 

“I-i…it..ah!” Neteyam struggled to force some sort of response out. 

“Do you need a hint?” Kxolo’s pace finally slowed into a leisured but harsh string of spanks. Neteyam’s rapid nodding rattled the beads in his hair against one another. 

“You needed help remembering who…” Kxolo's voice drawled out until trailing off.

“Who I-i belong to!” The boy urgently cried out. It was rewarded with a pause. 

“Good boy.” The praise was trailed by a soothing pet along Neteyam’s sprawling braids. A small sob echoed at the touch. 

“And?” He twisted a beaded braid around one finger casually admiring it. 

“I’m yours, alpha.” The boy let out between the deep breaths he was yanking into his lungs earnestly. Nerves still bubbled at the surface as it was impossible to predict when Kxolo would attack his backside. 

“That’s right, little one. You are my omega and as your alpha, I am set with many responsibilities. I am meant to provide for and protect you, even if that means protecting you from yourself.” Kxolo’s fingertips glided along the curve of Neteyam’s spine softly, but it did little to calm the male. A sneaking suspicion warned the omega there was an unhappy ending to the conversation. 

“Which means it is my job to give you a reminder that will keep you from endangering yourself again.” Panic jolted through him at the feeling of long fingers undoing the knotted string around his tail. 

“What are you doing?” His cry came out raspy and thick from the continuing tears. Neteyam arched himself backward in order to get a look. His stomach twisted as he noticed the vibrant red that covered everywhere from the top of his ass to halfway down his thighs. Kxolo worked on the stubborn strings until the loincloth had fallen away, draping underneath him. 

“There is still one part left that needs to be spanked.” His idle voice calmly drawled while running his long fingers between the boy’s cheeks. The intimate petting immediately had slick dribbling out from his small hole.

Neteyam’s heart banged against his own rib cage as he realized in horror what the alpha was divulging. The idea of his most sensitive and vulnerable area falling under the heat of those slaps sent tears cascading down his cheeks at a faster rate. 

“No n-no alpha please!” The Sully boy begged. 

“I know,” Kxolo’s sweet coos were an alarming contrast to the harsh promises he had made. “Mawey, Neteyam.” The alpha’s digits continued to explore and circle around the small hole, yet again forcing the boy’s body to respond in lust. 

“Now spread your legs.” Neteyam crossed one ankle over the other in self preservation. 

He could hear the heavy sigh above him, but no reprimanding followed the sound. A glimmer of hope foolishly lit only to be stamped out by the large hands roughly palming and pushing his reddened thighs apart. His muscles cramped as they fought against the Olo’eyktan’s strength but the effort was not appreciated. A sharp tug on his tail sent the boy lurching forward with a sharp cry. It was all for naught regardless as Kxolo managed to slide a calf in between the legs to combat the clamping muscles. 

Neteyam shoved the sobs down his throat in an effort to begin some sort of case for himself with pleas.

“Kxolo please I-”

“Now your cheeks.” Kxolo’s steely voice commanded. His brain short circuited at the implication. Surely he was not asking for what it sounded like.

“W-what?”

“I need you to hold your cheeks apart. How else am I supposed to aim at that tight little hole?” The teasing tone sent blood rushing through the omega’s veins, once again grasping at his anger. 

“NO!” He threw in a hiss for good measure, straining his body in order to glare daggers up at the alpha. 

Kxolo held the glare, one eyebrow raised. The calm before the storm. 

The unrelenting pull of his tail worked in unison with the firing swats to bring more heat to his already flaming ass. Neteyam renewed his struggles but it only resulted in a helpless image of himself flashing through his mind. His small body draped and spanked over the male’s knee as the alpha loomed over with controlled slaps working the omega into compliance. Resistance was pointless. Control was not his to be had. 

“You have a choice here, Neteyam.” The growl above sunk into the boy’s bones, expanding into an uncomfortable anxiety in his lungs. “Stop the bratty behavior and help me get this punishment out of the way or,” Kxolo paused, halting his onslaught for a tense silence to fall. “Make this spanking a new part of our nightly routine for the rest of the week.” 

Neteyam froze. 

“What’s it going to be, baby boy?” The dark flow of words caressed at his skin. Shame nipped at the boy as he could feel more slick leaking out at the pheromones and smooth voice Kxolo caged him with. 

With shaking hands, Neteyam reluctantly reached back to grasp at his heated cheeks. The applied pressure added to the sting as he spread them apart. Humiliation coalesced with arousal as his hole was on clear display for hungry eyes. 

“Good boy.” The Olo’eyktan purred. Arousal coiled tighter into a tangled knot. Delicate lines drawn around the area did nothing to help the boy’s state. 

The first hit was softer than ones previously administered but to his hole it sent a new wave of sensations through Neteyam. The pain was white hot, shooting through him at an impressive speed. However, the ache left behind dripped into tense pleasure, swallowing his inhibitions. His fingers trembled as he tried to remember the importance of gripping the aching skin. 

The second and third hit had his cry trailing off into whining pleas. Neteyam, however, no longer knew what he was begging for. His mind toggled between looking for an escape to the pain and thinking of what it would take to coerce Kxolo into helping him reach a pleasurable release. 

“Are you going to run away again?” 

Three more rash hits.

“N-no alpha!” Hiccups built between the words. 

“Put yourself in danger?”

Five more landed in succession before the omega could respond.

“No!” 

The sobs returned until they were mixing with his hiccups, making it even harder to breathe, let alone speak. Slick glistened against his abused thighs. 

“Disobey a direct order?” 

The negative assurance came out as more of a scream as two calculated hits landed right on target. His cock became trapped underneath him as it hardened. The conflicting stimulations swirled his mind into a garbled madness of confusion. 

“Then let’s get it done.” 

The beginning and ends of swats merged together till it was only a long string of burning pain and pleasure. Hit after hit quickly wore Neteyam down till his body was limp against the male’s legs. His tears wet Kxolo’s calf from the desperate nuzzling of his cheek to the skin. 

“Last one, baby boy. Almost done.” Kxolo reassured him. 

The final sting left Neteyam with his mouth opened in a silent scream. His hands finally fell away and clung at the Olo’eyktan’s ankle once more as hiccups overtook his breathing. There was no energy to sob or move and yet there was only one thing his hindbrain yearned for. 

“Good job, baby. Did so good.” He clung to the silky voice in the haze of lust. 

Kxolo carefully maneuvered him to perch on his lap, arms wrapped around his waist and glowing bum carefully setting between the alpha’s legs so as to not irritate it further. He cooed sweetly into the boy’s ear while holding him tight. Neteyam clung to the male as if his life depended on it. 

Curled into those strong arms, finally receiving the much needed skin to skin contact, Neteyam could finally breathe. However, the focus shifted from the burning to the slick still trailing out in need. A sweet release was all that he needed, all that the omega longed for. The hands that had delivered such pain were more than capable of bringing him even greater ecstasy. Kxolo’s thick veiling scent alone had tickled and teased at his senses so deliciously. 

There was a light at the end of the tunnel. 

It would all be worth it.

Neteyam lunged into a kiss. Unfeigned nips and licks between the pressing lips from the omega was in great contrast to the leisured restrained response Kxolo gave. The Olo’eyktan forced it into one of sensual and patient passion. It was impossible not to melt into the feeling. The soft caress of Kxolo’s large palm cupping the side of his face paired with soft gentle lips, veered the kiss away from lust and towards affection instead. 

“I missed you.” Kxolo hummed after finally breaking away. Their foreheads rested against one another, the alpha’s eyes closed. For a moment, tranquility filled the space and Neteyam was distracted from his tense arousal. 

“Time to get you back to bed, baby boy.” Kxolo sighed, already starting to shift the boy off of his lap. The omega clung to his neck, refusing to move. 

“Wait! Kxolo I n-need…help.” He watched as the alpha’s gaze slowly raked down his body and back up again. He was sure that Kxolo could smell, let alone see, the arousal resulting in slicked thighs and a hard cock pressed between them. Anticipation weighed heavy in the air as he waited to see his next move. 

“I know, baby.” A sweet kiss was placed along his temple and excited relief began to bubble within him. “But unfortunately that’s a privilege you are currently suspended from till further notice.” 

His hindbrain refused to process the words. Golden eyes searched the taller male for any sign of teasing or sarcasm. Not a trace was found, only a mocking sympathetic gaze. 

“What?” Denial urged the question out, hopeful that there was some sort of miscommunication. 

“It’s like I said, little one. Naughty boys don’t cum.” His tone was a mixture of sympathy and nonchalance but part of Neteyam wondered if the alpha reveled in delivering the news. In seeing how his body had come to yearn and chase after every touch Kxolo delivered. The male had opened the door to pleasure beyond Neteyam’s imagination and now he had the power to close it. 

Strong hands lifted the distracted omega back onto his feet. Kxolo dug through the baskets of fabric to fish out a new loincloth for Neteyam. His body tingled with mixed emotions and lust as he watched the taller male crouch down to search. Every spike of delicious scent wafting his way now felt like a curse, an empty invitation. 

“This one will do.” He muttered before stalking over and beginning to tie the piece of fabric around the boy’s hips. 

“You’re just going to leave me like this?” Neteyam cringed internally at how his voice incidentally morphed into a pitiful whine. 

“It’s called tough love, baby boy and it’s what you need right now.” He completed the knots, hands brushing thoughtfully over the red skin. 

Neteyam couldn’t help the tears that were quickly coming to surface again. The night had been a tornado of events all ending in absolute failure and humiliation for him. Now the male that had sworn to take care of him was denying him of the one interaction he truly wanted. The omega bit his bottom lip to keep it from trembling pathetically. 

Kxolo took in the boy’s sad state, standing in front of him.

“You’re being such a dick.” Neteyam managed to get out between hiccups. 

“Ah yes, because calling me names right now is really going to convince me to end this punishment sooner than later.” Kxolo sarcastically replied while adjusting the bandage across Neteyam’s ribs. Softer eyes met the omega’s, hand brushing along his cheek affectionately. “Come now, little one. You are upset and sleep deprived. Arguing can wait till the morning. What you need right now is rest.” 

Wrestling the sleep deprived omega back into bed was easier than anticipated for Kxolo as it seemed that all the energy had been drained from him through the night’s events. All it took were soothing pheromones and touches to get him prepared and curled up in bed. However, the alpha could not help but snort at Neteyam’s refusal to seek the comfort he so desperately needed. 

Tucked into a ball on the other side of the mat, the omega cried silently. The obstruction of view did little to fool the Olo’eyktan. He waited to see if the Sully boy would come to his senses and seek out the help he needed but once again Neteyam proved to be stubborn in keeping his retaliation streak. He rolled his eyes at the scene. 

“Stop being stubborn and let me help you.” Kxolo was pleased to find Neteyam give in to the request, no fight as he pulled him flush against his chest. It only took a few soft kisses to the boy’s hairline before he was flipping over and resuming their usual sleeping position. His head rested on the broad chest, with one leg thrown over his hips. 

Kxolo basked in the feeling of Neteyam’s small body pressed against his own again. One look at the boy’s tear streaked face and pout had Kxolo’s heart aching. He wiped each tear away with the pad of his thumb. The doleful eyes fluttered closed under the sweet caresses. 

“Poor thing.” The Olo’eyktan cooed, hand rubbing soft against the boy’s inflamed backside. Small whimpers died off into soft sighs as he melted under the touch. Kxolo felt his own heart rate slow at the content feel of warm soft skin against his own, Neteyam finally tucked away safely.

He continued the pattern of movements long after Neteyam’s breath had evened out into a deep sleep. The soft glow in the tent gave just enough light to see the damage. The omega was sure to be sore for several days, but he prayed it would serve as a reminder to stay out of trouble, or at least out of harm’s way. 

Sleep escaped the male as his hindbrain nagged at him to keep an eye on the sleeping omega. The horror he had felt with the news of Neteyam’s disappearance ate at him slowly. Only the sight of his fragile body wrapped around him gave his alpha some peace of mind. An innate desire to protect and shelter the small boy in his arms outweighed the natural ache of his body demanding sleep. Kxolo was not sure how long he admired and traced patterns along Neteyam’s soft skin before sleep consumed him. 

“Hate to say it but things could be worse.” Vamai reasoned, tongue poking out in concentration as she cut up the vegetables carefully. Neteyam, although entrusted with aiding Vamai in her dinner duties for the clan, was still not allowed to handle sharp objects. He was left to carefully enfold the vegetables and meat into individual wraps one by one. He figured the job would have been more gratifying were it not for burning pain in his backside, causing him to shift constantly where he sat. 

“He’s determined to screw me over in every way possible I swear.” Neteyam huffed, fingers fumbling to fold the leaf properly. His arousal and pain worked together in tandem to sour his mood. 

“Actually I think you’re more upset about the fact that he’s not screwing you.” Vamai couldn’t help the smug laugh that erupted from her lips. Her giggles only continued as Neteyam lashed out at her with a hiss for the third time that day. He swore his frustrations only served to entertain the girl.

Humiliation gripped Neteyam as he noticed two of the women cutting meat nearby giggling at Vamai’s comment. In the heat of his own agony he had lost sight of how public their conversation was quickly becoming. A quick glance around the area luckily confirmed that neither of Kxolo’s right hand men were a part of the dinner crew and therefore unable to tell on him. 

“Okay okay I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. Sexual deprivation is no joke and my heart goes out to you.” The twinkle of amusement in her eyes did not dim as she placed a feigned sympathetic hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s not just that. I don’t see why he couldn’t have waited another five minutes to bring me such humiliation and pain. Eywa only knows what happened to Lo’ak last night.” Vamai’s countenance switched in an instant. Her eyes rolled dramatically as she continued to cut the vegetable fiercely. 

“I wouldn’t worry about him too much, Neteyam. Trust me, his pride was way more than intact, even while tied up to that tree.” Something etched into her expression hinted at more dramatic emotions lurking underneath the surface. Neteyam scrunched his eyebrows in confusion.

“Tied up to the tree? You saw him?” He watched her intently.

“Well of course, he is your brother after all and I know how you get with your whole eldest child responsibility thing so I checked on him for you.” She spoke matter-of-factly. 

“Well, thank you Vamai. That's actually really nice of you.” He tried to catch her gaze but the other omega was consumed by her work at hand. 

“Well you know me, always such a good friend.” She put on a cocky smile but it didn’t properly reach her sparkling orbs. Neteyam watched from the corner of his eye as she fiddled with her long hair between cuts, never stopping the constant fidgeting. 

“So what did he say?” The speed of her knife increased. Focused eyes scrunched down at the task, perhaps the most concentrated Neteyam had ever seen her.

“Just a bunch of nonsense. Tried to convince me to let him go, etcetera etcetera.” She waved off the question hastily, but Neteyam wasn’t satisfied. Lo’ak was prone to acting tough regardless of the circumstances, but sometimes that attitude was the same thing that bit him in the ass when it came to dealing with their father. 

“That’s it? Did you see my parents arrive?” Vamai let out a gruff sigh before putting her knife down.

“Listen Nete, I was only there for a few minutes. We exchanged a few words and then Epok came to chew me out.” Her jaw clenched at recalling the memory. Neteyam on the other hand had a hard time imagining Epok being the one to tell her off. It seemed to him that she had him wrapped around her finger. 

“Epok, really?” Vamai whipped her head around to scan her surroundings before leaning in close, always a sign to Neteyam that she was about to fill him in on the gossip. 

“He saw me talking to Lo’ak and started acting really weird. Was all over me about being out past eclipse and he put on this macho alpha role. It was ridiculous and I made sure to let him know that when he came over this morning. Needless to say, we are in the middle of a disagreement right now.” Vamai whispered.

Neteyam tried to keep his composure, weighing whether or not he should add his observations to the mix. It was laughable to think that the only person who did not realize that the Na’vi had feelings for her was Vamai. She had a free tongue that was quick to point out the inner workings of the social interactions between others, yet it never extended to herself. 

“Who knows, perhaps I will be joining you in celibacy after all.” She snorted, returning back to the unchopped vegetables. Neteyam on the other hand, was not ready to surrender to his frustrating fate for the next few days. There was an attraction, a pull, that brought him and Kxolo together. It was undeniable, but that lure was designed to work both ways. All he needed was for Kxolo to succumb to the inevitability of it first. 

“Speak for yourself. I have a plan.” A devious smile twitched at the corner of his lips. Vamai tried to stifle her chuckle, not needing to be told what the plan would entail. 

It wasn’t long before the meal was fully prepped and the clan started to fill in to the dining area. Mothers and fathers corralled wryly children down to eat. Hunters covered in scrapes and bruises fiddled with their newly wrapped injuries as they sat together for the much needed meal. The forest echoed with lively laughter and mingled voices. The area buzzed with activity, but Neteyam was silent.

His golden eyes skipped between the oncoming faces, looking for the sign of his mate’s smiling face or long decorated braids. Neteyam eventually opted for standing, as the burn from sitting was quickly taking away his focus. This however, made a new distraction surface as he realized that anyone behind him could see the evidence of an omega well punished. 

Kxolo's tall broad frame emerged from around the bend, actively engaged in a conversation with another clan member Neteyam didn’t recognize. His bow was strapped to his back, indicating he had been out on hunting business instead of politics. When the Olo’eyktan caught sight of his omega staring from afar, a wide grin stretched itself across his face. 

“Ma Neteyam.” He warmly greeted, hand cupping his cheek to pull him in for a short kiss. 

The endearing term twisted his heart in a way that always had Neteyam tempted to soften his attitude towards Kxolo. The timber dripped with genuine affection urged his instincts to purr and commanded more contact with his mate. Flashes of strong arms wrapped around him as he was sheltered from harm, dominated his thoughts. How easy it would be to forget the world and let the older male take care of him. 

Those thoughts, however, were not engineered to work towards accomplishing his goal. 

As always, Kxolo went to carefully inspect the bandaged gash along his ribs. It had become a new part of their routine and in Neteyam’s opinion it was borderline obsessive. 

“Still sore, baby?” He hummed. Neteyam shot him a disdainful look.

“What do you think?” The intense glare did little to dampen Kxolo’s mood. To the contrary, there was always some sort of amusement to be found in the omega’s efforts to intimidate or overrule him. 

“I think,” He casually placed his hands on Neteyam’s hips to pull him closer. “That someone is still a little upset at me.” Despite the words, a coy smile never left the Na’vi’s face. 

“What keen observation skills.” Neteyam’s caustic tone only made Kxolo roll his eyes at the antics. 

Their conversation was cut short as Pulo, Tamil and Epok came to join them. Vamai adamantly refused to look Epok’s way out of spite. Neteyam similarly was urcked by Pulo’s presence, sure that he was bound to use some cocky remark to tease him about the previous night’s disaster. They were in for a fun meal. 

Neteyam regulated his breath as they sat down. He had little experience in the art of seduction, let alone doing it while angry. 

“Glad to see you back unharmed, Neteyam.” Tamil’s genuine smile, cooled down some of his boiling rage. He didn’t speak often, which made the few comments he did share that much more meaningful. 

“Not completely unharmed.” Pulo reminded him. 

“Well, every good adventure needs a mark to prove it.” Tamil countered, giving Neteyam a friendly wink. A small smile found its way to the omega but he didn’t go without noticing the slight tension in Kxolo’s body at the wink. However, there had to have been a certain level of trust there as the alpha made no move to comment on it. 

Conversation was easily carried between the group despite the obvious tension forever blooming between Epok and Vamai. It was strange for Neteyam to see her so quiet. He was however not given much time to dwell on the fact as he prepared himself to make a move. 

When the conversation had erupted into full force laughter and interrupting comments, he innocently placed his hand atop the alpha’s corded thigh. The receiving party’s amber eyes flickered towards him but Neteyam kept his focus straight forward a the current story being told by Pulo. He struggled to keep a light but neutral expression as the ground beneath him chaffed and rubbed at his sensitive skin with every shift. 

Once Kxolo’s guard was down again he subtly shifted his small hand to his inner thigh, inching closer and closer towards his pelvis. He stopped at a point that would not raise suspicion but he hoped would still illicit sexual connotations. The older male did not shrink or flinch at the touch, completely calm under the unexpected attention. The composure acted as a perfect mask, giving nothing away. 

Neteyam started to suspect the alpha of ignoring him, so when a large palm rested at the small of his back it made him jump slightly. A tingling sensation danced across his skin at the simple touch. His innate instincts were already coming to life, demanding more contact, to finally finish what should have been achieved the night prior. Counting the fruit on his plate silently was the only thing that drowned the voice out. 

“Perhaps this time you will not get so drunk that you forget where your hut is.” Epok murmured. Neteyam could only vaguely piece together that they were talking about the upcoming festival, but everything else beyond that was a jumbled blur. 

“To be fair, the batch you brewed was especially strong. Knocked anyone under 120 kg out with a single cup.” Kxolo chimed in while simultaneously trailing his hand further down Neteyam’s back. He tried not to squirm as it finally landed on the first hint of blushing skin. 

“Do not worry, brother. The drink will be less intoxicating this year, wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt.” Epok reassured, eyes landing on Neteyam. Vamai scoffed at the comment, angrily biting into her wrap. Were it not for the distraction of warm hands and lust-filled goals, Neteyam figured he would have been offended, but the conversation was simply noise to him. 

The dialogue shifted back to Pulo over another festival story and Neteyam couldn’t be more grateful. He could feel his control over the situation slipping. It was time to kick things up a notch. 

Before letting fear or hesitation take over, Neteyam swiftly placed himself on top of the Olo’eyktan’s lap. He tried his best to conform the movement into one of graceful innocence with an undertone of seduction, but it was hard to know how well he had pulled it off. He could feel the hot breath at the back of his neck as he shifted to get comfortable in the crossed legs. Neteyam looked back up at the male with large amber eyes, fluttering his lashes sweetly. 

“The ground is uncomfortable. Thought this would be better.” He explained, tone intertwined with a submissive drawl. 

The iris of Kxolo’s eyes drank in the golden rims, dilating slowly. 

“Naturally.” He confirmed. His arm wrapped possessively around Neteyam’s waist, effectively pulling him back flush against the Olo’eyktan’s hard chest. 

For once, the burning in his backside served a purpose as it naturally had him squirming constantly against Kxolo’s pelvis. It wasn’t long before he could feel the beginnings of a hard on pressing back against him. The alpha made no move to push him away or hide it though. The only response was warm hands occasionally gliding along his inner thighs. The touch was always fleeting, perhaps only a concoction of his own imagination. Heat began to settle in his loins. 

The hard cock incessantly poking at him was oxygen to the flames, every minute forcing his desire to burn brighter. 

Kxolo was reluctant to give up his release on his omega as Neteyam bent forward to grab another plate of fruit. On his knees, reaching his whole body forward to reach it, he made sure to let his back bow into a deep arch. The prolonged movement accentuated every curve obscenely. From his tapered waist to the rounded swell of his ass, his body glimmered as a sinful temptation in front of the alpha. A wordless proposition. An enchanting allurement. 

Upon resuming his place, Neteyam’s focus was instantly captured by the throbbing length now fully hard and ready, poking underneath Kxolo’s loincloth. One innocent wiggle of his hips had the member twitching. Victory was on the horizon. The prospect of true success had his own arousal leaking out feel like an exciting beginning instead of the dreaded pain it had been for the past day. 

The plate of fruit was stolen from his grasp and the arm took its place again around his waist. Before a protest could build in his throat, a piece of fruit was offered in front of his lips. 

“Open.” Kxolo commanded. 

Naturally his pillow lips parted for the fruit to be gently pushed in. His core tightened as the Olo’eyktan gradually pushed his fingers further past his lips with every piece of fruit given. The sweet nectar coalesced with Neteyam’s spit along the alpha’s fingers. When the others' backs were turned, entranced by another playful argument, Kxolo licked the mixture off of his fingers slowly as his eyes never left Neteyam’s. The omega squirmed at the sight. This game he had organized was quickly taking a turn. The reins were slipping from his grasp. 

Neteyam and Kxolo had seemed to have slipped into the shadows, away from the forefront of their friends' attention. The omega took advantage of this fact and began to leisurely roll his hips in a figure eight motion. Kxolo gently grasped the curve of his jaw, angling his head away to gain better access to the boy’s ear. 

“I don’t think you know what game you are playing, little one.” He whispered, ticking the shell of his ear. 

“You seem to be enjoying it.” An exaggerated arch pushing his hips backwards accentuated his point. The resonating growl that followed prickled at his skin, coiling the arousal into a tighter ball. 

“Oh trust me, I do, but I don’t think the ending is going to be as ideal for you as you think. I haven’t forgotten your punishment.” The whispered words made Neteyam’s nose scrunch in annoyance, but hope was not completely lost. 

The rubbing sensation brought waves of pain and pleasure mixed together as it agitated his burning skin in the best way. The pleasure overrode his concern about the mess of slick that was already tainting their skin or the eyes that could wander over at any second. 

“I don’t know alpha, I feel like we could both win.”

He held in a gasp as the arm around his waist tightened till he was bound in place. 

“I said you can’t cum, but that doesn’t have to stop my fun. Keep going the way you are now and I promise it will end in your little body bound and spread wide as I torment you with touches that bring you just barely to the edge, but never over. Hearing you beg for my cock sounds like fun time to me, but I’m not sure if that is the activity you were wanting to tempt me with.” Kxolo’s deep baritone seeped into his bones.  

His heart thumped erratically at the unbelievable words. 

He had underestimated the alpha’s resolve. 

“You’ll crack eventually.” The shake in his voice did little to convince. 

“You’d be surprised at how much self control I can exhibit, baby boy.” Kxolo promised.

And that was all he received before the alpha’s touch was gone and his opinions had rejoined the public conversation. 

There was only a faint glow outlining the sleeping bodies within the hut. Vamai used those vague shapes to maneuver herself over and around her parents until she could make a swift exit. Her movements were fragile as she scaled her body down the length of the tree. Her eyes searched for any sign of Na'vi life but the only evidence of others present was the soft snores and whispers echoing from the other huts. 

It didn’t take long for her to find the way out of the village and towards some of her favorite spots to explore. Eclipse was when she felt most connected to nature. She glittered in tandem with the other life forms and the vibrancy created fascinating contrasts that swirled into a unique form of art. Not to mention, it was always quiet. The chirps of nocturnal creatures were the only sounds present and that alone made her mind drift peacefully.

Eclipse was the only time she could hear herself think. 

As always, the reward of rebellious actions made an energy ripple through her veins. When this happened, it was impossible to stay still. Those currents of electricity had to be released. It was expressed through subtle dance moves or rhythmic beats tapped against her thighs during the day when Vamai was bound to responsibilities. However, at night, it could surge from her without restraint. 

She broke into a run, leaving illuminated footprints behind. Laughter erupted from her chest as the pace picked up. The whipping winds across her skin spurred on the speed. Every fiber of her body rejuvenated, each nerve lit with that energy. She ignored the sting of greenery biting at her skin as she passed. They were simple obstacles that could not slow her down. 

An abrupt stop finally came in front of a mighty tree, its height protruding up into the night sky. A new desire to climb quickly gathered. Vamai knew she would not reach the top tonight, but the greater excitement was found in the struggle of pushing her body towards greater heights anyways. 

The cuts and scrapes that adorned her legs from climbing served as her favorite reminders of her adventures. In the morning it always came with the task of finding ways to conceal them from her parents but that was future Vamai’s problem, not hers. Every shift of her body weight towards a higher branch pulled more of that energy out of her system. It was a release that left her body glistening with sweat and a smile creasing into her cheeks. 

Exhaustion finally took over, causing her to stake out a point along an intricate intertwining of large branches, perfect to sit upon. Windows created between the greenery allowed her to see out into the open landscape beneath. The tune of her mothers songchord naturally hummed from her chest absently. The sound caught the attention of a nearby Syaksyuk during its swing from branch to branch. Their eyes met, briefly curious at the existence of the other, but it only lasted a moment. The creature swung off into the distance until only a flicker of light to her eyes. 

The sway of the notes rallied her back to her feet, already engaging in a light dance across the wood. She twirled across the distance, occasionally using a grip on the tree limbs to steady herself. Vamai felt proud of her elegant movements, until she hit a hard chest. 

“Hey, little snitch.” 

Warmth flooded her cheeks at the familiar voice and alluring chest at eye level. Sure enough, one glance upwards confirmed that the younger Sully boy was smirking down at her. His signature beaded braids fell forward to accent his sharp jaw. His eyes were lit with playfulness, staring down at her. However, there was an entrancing warmth in his expression, a genuine delight at seeing her. 

“Lo’ak, what are you doing here? You absolute idiot!” Her admonishment did nothing to dull that spark. 

His rousing scent surrounded her from every side, causing her to step back for much needed air. 

“I suppose I could ask you the same thing.” Lo’ak advanced forwards with calculated steps, as if she were prey easily scared off. 

“Do you really think coming back here after what you tried to pull off the other night is the smartest idea? They’ll skin you!” Her disquiet only bloomed further as the retreating steps brought her back flush against the tree trunk. 

“I just forgot something.” He smoothly shrugged, eyes sealed to her own. 

Glowing freckles led trails to those captivating eyes, sucking the breath from her lungs. His soaring frame consumed her completely as he laid one hand on either side of her head. Her vision, smell, and even breath were overtaken by Lo’ak. Her senses quickly became overloaded by his presence. 

“What did you forget?” The timid voice that escaped felt unlike her own, but there was no time to dwell on that. 

Using one hand cupped along her face and his neck straining his own down to her height, his lips captured Vamai’s in a kiss. 

It was gentle, nothing but sweet tenderness lacing the movements. Soft lips lured Vamai into a trance. Her jumbled brain for once was still. It could only feel the impression of Lo’ak’s frame. The way his breath mingled with her own. His four fingered hand cradled her head, coaxing her deeper into the kiss. 

The flare whizzing through her veins lit into a foreign type of electricity, one both caused and cured by the alpha against her. Within a few moments her small hands reached up to clasp onto his broad shoulders. Lo’ak was quick to pull her forward by the hips till their bodies were intertwined. The heat from his larger body connected with her own dragged her thoughts into a nebulous void. 

The kiss increased in vigor as sharp canines came into the mix. His own lips contorted the kiss possessively as she softened beneath the touch. A feeling of familiarity resonated in her gut. It was natural, normal, destined. Those were the promises her hindbrain spewed until it became reality. She was meant to be in his arms. Meant to stake her soul to his. Meant to become one. 

Lo’ak pulled away, forehead leaned against her own. 

“My mate.” His confession drifted with the wind. 

Vamai awoke with clammy skin, eyes wildly searching to take in the new reality. All that appeared were the mundane surroundings of her room inside the family hut, yet she could still see him. The mischievous glint in his warm eyes. The trace left from a four-fingered hand. The unquenchable blaze dancing along her lips. The essence of home. 

“Oh fuck.” 

Trouble always had a way of finding Vamai.

taglist: @theunfortunateplace​  @perfectprofessorloverapricot

[charcuteriecrab]

Please Don't Leave Me (Part 2)

A Resident Evil fic request

For @leonisdumbasallhell

Rating: M

Contains: blood, strong language, description of injuries

Tags: Married Chreon, Infection, Major Character Injury

Word Count: 1462

Part 2/? Part 1 <- Previous | Next ->

Chris watched the lines on Leon’s face dissipate and his arms fall limp. He grabbed the man’s hands and brought them back to his sides, rubbing his thumb against the crimson palms. Blood was caked to the side of his face, some of it dry and flaky, other parts sticky and congealed, bits of dirt caught in it. His clothes were soaked through too, the large gash in his right arm bleeding through his shirt, the garment removed and tossed to the side to view the wound easier.

It hurt so much to see his husband in pain, and every time he looked at his darkened veins his heart rate quickened, his pulse slamming against his skull. Leon was infected. 

Or, not infected, but sick, as Rebecca had said. And Chris had to tell himself that that was better than the alternative.

“That was a painkiller,” the woman said into her earpiece, sighing. 

A painkiller? Leon passed out immediately after the injection—he must have been in more pain than he was letting on. Chris’s heart ached at the realization.

Rebecca looked at him sadly. “I’ve done all I can for now. When we get back to the safehouse I can start working on fixing the toxicity in his blood. I know he doesn’t like hospitals, so as long as we keep an eye on him at the house, he should be fine. I’m leaving him in your care while I work.”

Chris nodded, not moving his gaze from Leon’s bloodied face. He felt so useless, only able to offer a hand to hold while his husband lay in agony.

“What about his concussion?” He just remembered. “I thought people weren’t supposed to sleep right away,” he said.

She looked at him with a knowledgeable smirk and it eased his worries slightly. “And I’m a trained medic,” she chuckled dryly. “But yes, we will need to wake him every hour or so. His body is clearly exhausted.”

Chris sighed, feeling a little better. The other team members seemed to be ignoring them, letting them have their space, and he appreciated it. He gripped Leon’s hand with both of his own, bringing it up to his lips and kissing his dry, cracked fingers. There were splinters under his skin and he pulled the few he could out, small pinpricks of blood budding. He wiped the crimson away with some extra gauze before disinfecting the spots and wrapping the hand. Chris stared down at Leon’s palm, seeing his wedding band and wanting to cry again.

When Leon didn’t answer on the comms, he didn’t think anything of it at first, not until he failed to show up to the rendezvous point. Chris wanted to go after him right away, but the others convinced him to wait at least thirty minutes. He shouldn’t have listened to them. His inaction caused Leon to be all alone for who knew how long, bleeding and vulnerable, unable to get up, unable to defend himself. Tears started welling in his eyes and he blinked them away, exhaling shakily.

God, he hoped Leon would be okay. He wouldn’t forgive himself otherwise.

When they arrived at the safe house, Leon groaned, stirring in his sleep, but not fully waking. Chris brushed back the man's hair, trying to offer comfort while the helicopter landed, the blades spinning to a halt. His brow was sweaty and warm—Chris tried not to worry about it but he couldn't help it. Seeing Leon bloodied and prone in that decrepit building would haunt his nightmares for days.

He shook his head. Leon needed him. He had a team to lead.

A hand on his shoulder had him flinching before realizing it was Rebecca. "We need to get him settled inside." 

Chris nodded with a frown. Leon wasn’t in the clear yet. They had no idea what was happening inside of him, and that terrified him. He was glad that Rebecca was taking over a more leader-like role; he didn’t think he could do that with how shaky his legs felt.

The other team members came to his side, grabbing the stretcher alongside Chris, and Rebecca trailed behind, her communicator out and talking with someone, probably their supervisors in the BSAA. They rushed into the safehouse, pushing open doors and moving through hallways until they came to the one of the house’s only bedrooms, the one designated for Leon and him. Chris and Rebecca pulled Leon onto the bed, being careful with his wounds. He put his husband’s head on his shoulder while they moved him, trying not to jostle it. He placed a quick kiss on his uninjured temple, the man giving no response.

‘You can get through this,’ he thought, eyes caressing Leon’s slack face. He had to.

Rebecca pushed Chris to the side so she could work, drawing Leon’s blood and hooking up a saline drip as well as some other monitors. He stood in the middle of the room behind her, watching without being able to lift a finger to help. The computer screen came to life, showing all of Leon’s vitals and seeing how injured he was made Chris weak. His body was showing signs of an immune response and he already had a fever of 101.3 degrees. Shit.

In what felt like a few seconds, but was surely at least ten minutes, Rebecca turned to leave, a vial of dark blood in hand. “I’ll be back,” she said softly, smiling at Chris, but he could see lines of stress in the corners of her eyes. “I set up a blood transfusion and saline and also gave him some anti-fever medication. He lost quite a bit of blood and has a concussion, so I will come by to wake him up eventually, but the more important issue we need to deal with is this.” She shook the vial of dark crimson in her hand. “My best guess is that, with his immunities and antibodies, he will only be having an immune response.”

She left the “and won’t turn into a zombie” hanging.

The longer she spoke, the more concerned Chris got. What kind of immune response was she talking about? If he wasn’t going to turn, how badly was his body going to react? Leon had never been majorly sick before, not while they had been together anyway. “What should I expect in terms of symptoms?” he asked instead, kneeling by Leon’s head. He was going to try his best to help Leon through this.

Rebecca turned to look down at the man in question, Leon’s breathing unevenly and wispy. She sighed. “A fever for sure, nausea, chills, fatigue. And with that concussion, some of these will be heightened. I can’t give him more painkillers yet, but his head is going to be hurting when he wakes up. Try to keep the lights down in here, speak softly. If he gets worse, come get me.”

Chris nodded, pain stabbing through his chest at the suffering Leon was going to endure for at least next day, and watched as she left the room, the door clicking shut. 

The safehouse was simple, as far as “bases” went. It was a BSAA member’s house that they were letting them use for the mission. Chris was thankful to have it, and especially grateful that he could have a little privacy at his husband’s side. Rebecca had set up a small lab in the basement, where she probably was, testing Leon’s blood.

"God, Leon." Chris leaned over the bed, placing his head on the blankets by Leon's thigh and exhaling, a sob barely contained. "I thought I was going to lose you."

The man made no response.

Images of Leon on those moldy boards, lying in a growing pool of crimson blood flooded his mind. If he hadn't been talking to the man, he would have thought he was dead. He barely breathed on the way back to Rebecca, every inhale shallow with a wheeze hanging at the end of each one. And his veins, dark webs stretching across his entire body, contrasting against his pale skin. 

He didn't know who or what attacked Leon, but it wasn't around the docks when Chris arrived. It almost seemed like Leon was ambushed and left to turn, or he was left as bait for Chris and the others. He would have to ask Leon if he remembered when he woke. The man wouldn’t have gone down without a fight. He was the toughest bastard he knew.

Chris sighed, pushing back Leon's sweat-soaked hair, humming. He would go grab a wet rag to put on his head in a moment, for now, he stayed by his husband’s side, waiting for his hands to stop shaking. "I'll take care of you, Lee."

[isolaradiale]

FANTASIA QUEST BOARD

Within the main cities of every kingdom a single board was erected in the respective city squares. Upon it rest a number of quests to undertake for profit and for glory.

Wh--? QUESTS Y’ALL!

Are quests mandatory for the event? Not at all! These are just for if you’re looking for something a little extra to do, or if you’re interested in any of the reward offerings. 

How do I cash in on my quest reward?  Contact the galaxy blog with the quest name and a link to the thread in question. We recommend giving any posts related to the quest a unique tag. To qualify for the reward your thread must meet the following requirements:

you must write out completing the given task

if writing as a thread you must have at least four posts each of at least 150 words per reply

if writing solo as a drabble, the drabble must be at least 500 words

the quest must be completed without using powers that would make completing it too easy (ie. one shot kill abilities during a monster hunting quest or item detection abilities during treasure hunting quests)

How long do we have to complete these quests? There will be a two week period following the event’s end for you to finish any quest threads. However all of the starters must be made before the event’s part 2 formal end date.

Can I take as many quests as I want? No. A single character can take up to three quests but no more than that.

YELA ALORA

A MOSS-T DANGEROUS TASK | 20,000 DUST The local apothecary has run out of chordamoss, a type of moss that grows on the backs of the large gators in the swamps. The gators are too hostile for the apothecary herself to gather it, so that’s where you come in! One bucket of chordamoss should be enough.

A REALLY GOOD BOOK IS BETTER THAN EVERYTHING | MAP OF THE KINGDOMS There’s a rumor that there’s this really good book in the Unholy’s territory and it’s being kept guarded by one of them. One of the scholars really wants it for their collection and is willing to give a reward to anyone. Your reputation with the Unholy will probably decrease a lot, but if you’re not aligned with them, that’s probably a reward too!

BAMBY, THE SECOND | FIRST AID KIT L & 10,000 DUST A strange woman approaches you one day, clad in a green robe. She tells the tale of a sacred tome, the second of two, known only as 'Bamby, the second'. Without any chance to argue against her, you find yourself quickly pushed out the door by her hand and constant encouragement. All you know is that the tome is somewhere within the kingdom...

AIRAISAL

RABID RABBIT | 100 STARS The forested region of Airaisaval has been overrun by a booming population of Binge Chungi, a rabbit monster species that can grow up to the size of a cow. They have dangerous strength and especially sharp teeth. Though herbivores, the damage they do to the forest is extreme. Due to the danger they pose one Binge Chungeous corpse will net you 100 stars once turned in -- though you can only claim the reward once. 

SOUNDS FAEK | 50 STARS Residents have reported new dirt paths showing up in the forests, twisting and turning at random and ending in large circular clearings. The paths are outlined with various mushrooms. Swarms of small wisps commonly appear from these circles and venture too close to the town, shocking and harming people if they come across them. If you clear out the mushrooms, they should go away. Hopefully.

QUEEN ALEIDA LOOK, IT’S THE GOOD KUSH | 4,200 DUST Queen Aleida has requested some medical herbs. Please collect some and drop them off at the guards in front of the castle grounds. Thank you!

PLEASE IGNORE THE NAME, DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT | FIRST AID KIT L Scholars at the Enchanted Armory and Transformative Academy of Science and Studies have requested the aid of adventurers to venture into the forest of Airaisal to study the magical properties of the plants residing deep in it. Please procure a sample and return within three days.

PLEASE FIND MY CHICKENS! | PANASTAR It seems a delightful young woman within Airaisal has lost all eight of her chickens. Since she's allergic, she can't touch them without getting hives. Instead of asking just WHY she has chickens, then, in the first place, you should just go and get the nice lady's chickens for her. She'll reward you, if you do!

OPALARIAN EMPIRE

WOMEN WANT ME, FISH FEAR ME | 50 STARS & AN ENDLESS SUPPLY OF FISH There’s a fishing contest happening in Opalaria and one of the contestants fell to an illness, so they need someone to take their place! It’s simple - catch the biggest fish! Feel free to team up with a partner if you want to and split the prize! Try not to capture any merfolk and sirens, though - your reputation with them will probably not be so great.

BIG BULLY BEAT DOWN | 100 STARS & FREE DRINKS The Thieves’ Guild is known for collecting its debts in any way it can, and that includes roughing up the shopkeepers who don’t pay on time. An innkeeper has asked you to disguise yourself as a bar patron, and protect her from the hounds of House Karliah. Proceed with caution--these are trained criminals, and aren’t above using magic to put their point across. Take him down or scare him off, and the innkeeper will give you a small portion of what she saved up.

MEDICINE RUN | PANASTAR & 8000 DUST Oh, good, you're available to help! Just what this woman needs; she needs this special medicine delivered to one of her friends. The bad news is that not only is the journey lengthy, the path is littered to the brim with bandits of all kinds! Do you dare make the journey and help this woman out?

XALPHINA

DRAGONS DON’T MAKE GOOD SPOUSES! | 14,072 DUST A village has lost their beautiful maiden to a dragon, which holds her up in a tower deep in the forest. The suitor isn’t all too happy about that and needs help! Get a reward and the title of Knight!

I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU SAY, IT’S TRUE LOVE! | 16,237 DUST A village girl fell in love with a dragon, and ran away from her old life to live with her in her tower. However, the village keeps sending these assholes to come and 'rescue' her. Find a way to keep the wannabe knights away forever to protect true love!

WITCHES BE TRIPPIN’ | SPIRAZON GROCERY DELIVERY A Faekin witch in Xalphina has been playing vicious pranks on the locals. It started out as harmless, but now someone could really get hurt! She’s only a young girl, so please just try and talk her out of continuing her pranks.

NONSPECIFIC

I’VE GOT A BONE TO PICK WITH YOU | 32,474 DUST An old man pays you to keep watch over his house at night because when he sleeps, he swears he hears the rattling of bones outside his window and the scratching of skeletal fingers. Kill the skeleton and get a reward and some sweet good reputation!

SPOOKY SCARY SKELETON | 54,124 DUST You wouldn’t ruin the fun of a skeleton, now would you? It’s not doing anything bad by rattling his bones, now is it? Here, just take this bag of dust and leave it alone. Be warned, though - people probably won’t like you all that much if you do this, but the money is pretty good...

A PRETTY FUN GUY | HERO’S CLOTHES ( JUST SOME REGULAR OLD CLOTHES ) A pack of sentient fungi have come to life and have been wreaking havoc among the fields from which they sprung unprompted. Please make hasty work of them before there isn't mush room left for growth!

[pickledpascal]

Love’s Train

Chapter Four: 2020: A Semblance of Normalcy

Warnings: existential crisis, sneaking out.

A/N: pandemic doesn’t exist, fuck that

Word Count: 1.4k

Love’s Train Masterlist

Previous Chapter  |  Next Chapter

Two years passed and Quinn was slowly starting to become a normal girl again. Besides the fact that her best friend was a yellow and black robot that could transform into a Camaro and, well, she certainly didn't look like a normal government official. At twenty-one, her arms were covered in various tattoos and her hair was dyed blue at the tips. She had a handle on all the Congress stuff after a while. As it all calmed, she wasn't needed as much, so it was the perfect opportunity for her to apply to colleges. She still wanted that degree, hoping she'd get a cool job with inventing. 

Who could pass up accepting the woman who spoke for the Autobots in their college? 

Which meant Quinn had her choice among what felt like hundreds of different colleges but her parents wanted her to be somewhere close. Preferably in-state. So she did. The college she chose was a two hour drive away from the five acre piece of land her parents owned. Far enough for Quinn to feel independent but close enough that she could drive back for a weekend if she wanted. 

To celebrate Quinn going to college, her parents threw a party. They invited friends and family from all over. Not that Quinn ever really met them but she appreciated the gesture. 

She made her way outside the two-story home, through the porch door and sighed as she stared at the setting sun. Most of the party-goers were inside, getting drunk and laughing with friends. Quinn looked back inside for a moment, catching a glimpse of her brother clinking a beer with someone. She let out a light laugh. 

Seeing Jake drunk was always fun to watch. Especially when he wanted to challenge Quinn to a beer pong game. He'd somehow win yet be leagues drunker than Quinn. 

A horn honking grabbed Quinn's attention. She realized it was Bee when his car door opened. Skipping her own party? What was more Quinn Harlow than that? She glanced back at her house before she stepped down from the porch and quickly got in Bee's driver's seat. The car moved as soon as Quinn got in, traveling down the dirt road that was shaded by tall trees.

"Where we going Bee?" Quinn asked, cocking her head as she looked around. She'd played in these woods when she was younger, even went camping with her family since it wasn't too far from the house.

Bee didn't respond, just the sound of his engine purring and his tires moving against dirt. That wasn't like him….

Soon, Bee stopped. He opened the driver's side door to signal Quinn to get out which she did. She looked at Bumblebee with narrowed eyes before she caught sight of that blue truck with red flames driving towards her. It stopped until it was just a few inches away from her then Quinn could see Optimus transforming into his Bot form. Gears, parts, lights, and tires rolling into place until Quinn could properly see the thirty foot tall bot. He kneeled down to be face to face with Quinn. Even then, she had to tilt her head up to look at him.

"Hello, Quinn Harlow." A deep voice rang out from in between his metallic lips, one she didn't expect but it fit. "I must commend you for all the things you've done for our race." Optimus hummed, blue optics taking in Quinn's form. Almost as if he was studying it.

It seemed all Autobots had blue optics, a detail Quinn would come to know very well.

Quinn was speechless. She'd seen Bee transform all the time but this… it was different. Optimus was a prime. The peak form of a Cybertronian. Perhaps that's why he was so goddamn big. 

The human coughed slightly and shrugged. "I, um, it's nothing." Quinn quickly said as she felt something start to prickle at her forearm. She tried to ignore it best she could. Whatever it was, it wasn't as important as meeting Optimus.

"It's not nothing." Optimus huffed out a laugh, a noise Quinn wasn't sure Optimus was capable of but it seemed he was full of surprises. "Every time you walk into that white building, you risk being ridiculed and endangered. I'm glad to call you a friend." He nodded, holding up his hand to Quinn's.

Quinn's eyes flicked from Optimus' face to the hand in front of her. It was probably as big as her entire body and she was six feet tall, above average for girls. "Um, you too." She smiled, awkwardly taking one of his fingers in her hand and shaking it. 

Optimus lowered his head a bit to be more level with Quinn and took his hand away. "I must also congratulate you on being admitted into college. As I understand these past few years have… as you say, thrown a wrench in your plans." He was certainly much more composed than his Autobot brothers. He spoke eloquently and clearly.

If only little Quinn could see her now. Conversing with that blue and red truck who led the Autobots.

"Th-Thanks." Quinn stammered slightly. Seeing Optimus close up was intimidating yet weirdly… attractive. She could see the little details of the metal plates that made up his face. "I mean, helping friends is more important than anything, right?" Quinn glanced back at Bumblebee who had transformed into his Bot form and sat at the stump of a tree.

"If only other humans could be as gracious as you." Optimus smiled lightly, a bit of a bitter tone in his voice. Not at Quinn. She could tell that already. 

—------

As Bee dropped Quinn back off at her house, she immediately made her way up to her room. That prickling on her arm was starting to bother her to no end. Like an itch she couldn't scratch. Quinn threw off the jacket she wore and rolled up her sleeve to see if anything was stuck on her skin or anything. 

There was nothing. No little bug that had managed to crawl its way into her sleeve, no raised red rash. Nothing. Well, except…. 

In the Cybertronian language, a deep blue mark appeared on the expanse of Quinn's forearm. While she couldn't read what it meant, she could tell what it was. Her soul mark appeared.

Right as she met the leader of the Autobots.

"Holy fuck." Quinn blinked, eyes wide as she slowly lowered herself onto her bed.

Of course she just had to be soulmates with Optimus fucking Prime. An alien robot. To be fair, she loved Bumblebee. But that was platonic. Like a brother and sister. But to be in love with a Cybertronian? As a human? It was hard to wrap her head around. Could they even… no, she didn't need to think about that. 

Quinn ran her hands through her hair. It was bittersweet. After all this time of wanting any sort of soul mark and she finally had it. But her soulmate wasn't human. She didn't think it was possible. But perhaps Cybertronians were more human than she had originally thought. Quinn took a few deep breaths, shaking her head from her thoughts. 

It's not like Optimus had a mark. He wouldn't have to know, especially if he didn't know about humans having soul marks to begin with. So it would be easy to hide. 

"It's okay, Quinn. You have a mark now, you're alright." Quinn whispered, trying to calm herself. 

Her thoughts about Optimus, being desperate to meet him, feeling almost betrayed when he crossed paths with her, it started to make sense. Quinn pursed her lips before she looked at her mark again. She'd saved a space for it among all the tattoos she got, still holding out hope. At least it looked at home among all the ink around it. 

If Optimus didn't know already then Quinn certainly wouldn't tell him. Not right away. Maybe down the line, when they actually start to know each other. That night was only a meeting to finally see each other for the first time. The human fighting for Cybertronian rights and the leader of the Autobots would have to meet eventually.

Funny how their paths were so acutely intertwined. 

Quinn let out a breath. College was just around the corner, that would give her time. Time to breathe, to get her thoughts together, to figure out what the hell she was gonna do. 

[agentsquirrelsgotrobots]

Tw bugs, specifically maggots

Folks of all stripes, may I present to you,

Fly Eggs

Or

Arcee's adventure in roadkill and self care

It starts when she runs over some roadkill on a blind corner, common on the open road, especially in the Adirondack mountains of Vermont.

Unfortunately, it was something big, probably a moose or deer, so she couldn't quite avoid it. She shuddered as ... it ... squished under her tires. It seemed to explode under the force of her tires. Whatever it was, it was big and covered the road. She can feel just the barest kind of resistance from bones, but those bend and break under her weight, too.

It was the hottest part of the summer, and by the time highway patrol got their sanitation trucks out to clean up roadkill, it was often rotting along as if it had been left for weeks.

Jack patted the handlebars soothingly. "Yeah, sorry about that, Arcee. That can't feel good under your tires."

"No, Jack, no, it doesn't. Now you can see why we don't eat other creatures?"

"Yeah, but that was already rotting. But a nice, juicy steak, from a good farm and greenhouse raised veggies. Mmhh. Yum. Thanks for buying me lunch earlier. "

"Well, I guess humans are omnivores."

"Exactly"

They left the road and onto a dirt parking lot for a local trail, the gore still trailing off Arcee's tires. It had splattered all over her, likely some sort of deer or moose, maybe even an illegally dumped exotic pet. Jack swore he heard it pop under Arcee's tires, the splatter even soaking onto his own jeans.

The parking lot was empty, so Arcee called a ground bridge, and they both went inside.

Jack went into Fowler's office to grab a duffle bag of spare clothes to change. The human sized showers still work, and the water heater was better than the one Jack had in his own house. Had to be, in order to have enough hot water to bathe five alien robots that nine times out of ten came back covered in muck and vehicon guts.

Arcee flung splattered gore everywhere as she transformed to Ratchet's displeasure. She didn't even wait for his lecture, yelling that she would clean it up as soon as she got rid of the rest of it.

She scrubbed at every speck she could find, making a mental note to have Jack wash her later. She didn't like having his hands in and on her outside of the seat and handlebars, but there were times where she was having a really bad day and they had to intercept a patrol and no matter how hard she scrubbed, she couldn't quite feel clean.

Then Jack would hook up the hose and get the good, expensive specialty cleaning stuff. June bought her, and they would talk, and she would try not to think about how this whole thing shouldn't happen.

She was a grown woman that had to be talked to like a sparkling, by a sparkling, in order to get the gore that she wanted off her body off her. Why are basic care tasks so hard when you have lost too much. Why do little hands both hurt her, remind her of spider-hissing-

too-many-legs-can't-vent-TAILGATE! Arcee collapsed onto her knees, turning the comfortable, warm shower into a cold freeze, too cold, like-ice-in-every-seam-like-tiny-fingers.

Arcee could feel her blades pop out of her arms, and she turned off the water before the delicate components could get rusted and ruined.

She dried them carefully before closing them and finally stepping out of the shower, ignoring the feeling of being watched trailing down her back. She could feel an itch under her plates, but wrote it off as feeling a little jumpy from the panic episode. She went to bed for the night, content to forget about the whole thing.

She did, and so did Ratchet. For several weeks, Arcee avoided the wash racks like she usually did whenever her mental health took a nosedive.

That day, she walked down the hallway to that little training area that Bumblebee had made her as normal. It was nice and quiet, away from everyone, yet she could hear for anyone who needed her.

She started to run through all the basic moves, still feeling that weird itch. She moved on to practicing her kicks and jumps. She was just about to free the dummies' head from its body for the fifth time when she felt something leak from her hips. She looked down to see a reddish brown mush leaking along with a few specks of white. When she could feel the specks move, her head swam, and her eyes cut out.

"Arcee? Arcee!"

"Jack, get back and let me work."

"Ratchet, those are fly eggs."

"There you go Arcee, follow the light."

Arcee woke up on Ratchet's exam table, his flashlight in her eyes.

"I have good news and bad news." Ratchet said, giving Arcee a container of the fly eggs and maggots that he had taken from her hip. "Good news is, it's completely treatable. The bad news is that I don't have the equipment to treat it noninvasively with my own two hands. This can only really be done by human hands. Luckily, I am sure June and Jack can provide good care. You will have to consent to me giving them your scans, but they should be able to do it by sight, too. I can sedate and alt mode lock you, too, if being conscious of it is too much. Either way, I will supervise completely and start to finish."

Arcee started to panic. She knew now that transforming was the worst thing she could have done. Now they were closer inside her. Now they were too deep for Ratchet to get in robot mode, at least not all in one shot. Her arm blades popped out on reflex, and her head started to spin.

Ratchet grabbed a cable from the bed she was sitting on and inserted it into her wrist. The mild mood enhancer, that they didn't have enough of to start her on regularly, did its job fast. Her mind started to clear, the dose perfected on trial and error, keeping her awake but out of the spiral she was in.

Jack saw Ratchet use it on her sometimes, especially after getting a good supply of it off the Harbinger.

After a few more minutes of it, Ratchet cut the feed and swapped it with a sedative. He got all the eggs and maggots and decay he could find, knowing that there was more deeper in her.

Arcee woke up in her own bed.

She remembered what he said, the panic from a few hours ago mostly gone.

Now that she could think, it made sense. The spin of her tires covered themselves with fluids and gore that she could have easily cleaned off when she got back to base again, but she was a lot less likely to think of all the eggs and gore kicked up into her underside.

Eggs. She had bug eggs in her body, almost microscopic to her.

She felt her arm blades slide out yet again and forced them back into her.

"Yes, give Jack the scans. I want them gone."

Ratchet nodded. "OK then. Do you want them to do it here, at the house, or at a car wash in town?"

"Here. Just be fast." Arcee was starting to panic again, calmed by Jack patting her foot.

Under Ratchet's careful instructions, she transformed and rolled into the wash rack. Ratchet turned on the shower in the next stall for some privacy. He refused to tell anyone, including Optimus, what they were doing in the shower, just that it was medically necessary and not to bring it up again.

June was called, and she brought changes of clothes, disposable masks, gloves (both of the gardening varieties and a box of sterile ones to put on top of them), various toothbrushes of varying softness from their bathroom closet, rags, old towels, and some cheap car soap, all in an old trash can stuffed into a washbasin.

"So, Arcee, I heard you got the closest thing to lice a bot can get?" June said, setting down the trash can.

Arcee was confused. "What's lice?"

"A mostly harmless bug that young kids can get when they trade hats or share brushes. They lay eggs in a kid's hair, and that's usually the first sign they are there. Treatment? A bath, of course. Jack used to get them all the time when he was in elementary school. It's nothing too worrying, and by what Ratchet said, we will be doing the same here today. Everything here will either be thrown out or sanitized, so don't worry about what we are doing. Just relax, and let us help you." June explained, throwing an old beach towel over her seat and taking a few toothbrushes out of their packages and setting them on top of it.

Ratchet picked up the bottle of soap and searched up the brand name. "This soap should work. Why didn't you just bring the stuff you usually use?"

"Because then she would fight us even more the next time she came home smelling like vehicon corpses." Jack said. "Her lack of self care is worse than June in the weeks after dad left us."

"Wait, Jack's father left you?" Arcee asked.

"Yes, unfortunately. Messy divorces would do that to you. Having a ten year old who came home with lice twice a month didn't really help."

"Hey! It's not like I could have helped it!" Jack fake pouted, pulling on both pairs of gloves and a mask.

Ratchet used a tool shaped like a thin crowbar to remove and loosen Arcee's outer plating around her headlights and windshield, revealing the soft protoform underneath.

Ratchet handled the disconnected plates to June to scrub in the washbasin.

It was then both Jack and Ratchet realized how deep Arcee's struggles with self care really went.

The protoform was filthy, with rotting leaves, bits of vehicon viscera, dots of dried energon, and, of course, small clusters of dead fly eggs from the decayed deer. They had started near her head and neck, taking it all in sections, with plans to take breaks between each section.

There were healed cracks in her protoform everywhere, a few of which had burned fly eggs stuck in them. Ratchet took an interest in those, sitting on the floor and taking out a pair of magnifying lenses out of his subspace. He stuck them onto his face, taking a rag and dousing it with soap and water. He wiped away most of the grime, taking out some tweezers and removing the debris from the cracks.

"Jack, it looks like all of these are well healed, but don't touch the protoform without gloves. All the energon I can see is inert and harmless, but be careful. That goes for you, too, Jane." He said, stowing the soiled tweezers and getting up, his joints creaking.

Jack and June got to work, cleaning out the fly eggs. They took out any bits of vehicon gore with tongs or had Ratchet step in. Multiple times, Optimus had knocked on the door with questions of Arcee's wellbeing, always being chased away by Ratchet before Arcee heard. She wasn't quite enjoying her bath, but wasn't hating it either. She melted when June used a soft toothbrush just on the inside of her plating, and having Jack scrape off the dried energon wasn't the best feeling in the world.

Eventually, her clean front passed Ratchet's inspection, and for a few minutes, she was slightly less exposed to the world.

Unfortunately, she would not stay covered up for long.

Under Ratchet's guidance, Jack moved the panels that made up Arcee's hips. He opened them to reveal…

… So many maggots everywhere, squirming and wriggling for food that can't be found, like a single wriggling mass.

Thousands of little eggs and larva all throughout her, starving yet incubated in the perfect temperature controlled insides.

Arcee revved her engine nervously, her plating shaking. Ratchet bent down and took something out of his subspace. He clamped it onto Arcee's front wheel. Arcee attempted to roll forward, out of Jack's reach. The clamp caused her to stall, unable to move. June gave her a pat on her seat and took Jack's spot.

"Arcee, I will handle this part. Jack, could you crouch down and check her underside?" June said, handing him a clean toothbrush and throwing the bundled up contents of the now dirty beach towel into the emptied washbasin.

Jack cleaned out all the cracks and crevices while June scooped out maggots and eggs by the handful.

"Ugh, this must be awful for you, Arcee, having us rooting around in your systems for maggots. I think we will be finishing up soon. Jack, how's it going?"

"Buggy, but better than I was expecting. Not much left. Pass me the hose?"

Arcee braced herself for the hose, still not ready for the stream of warm water against her internals. She squeaked as she felt a few stray maggots drown and fall out.

"Arcee, everything looks fine on my end. Mom?"

"Mine too. Just got two more - got it." June said, peeling off her gloves and throwing them in the washbasin. "Ratchet, this is your show now."

Ratchet had Arcee transform and check her over for any stray maggots. Not finding any, he helped her out of the showers and into her own room to get some rest.

Ratchet threatened bloody murder if Miko disturbed Arcee in any way. She wisely made her guitar disappear.

The phantom feeling of the bugs' movement lasts for weeks after Arcee's cleaning. She just can't get the feeling of maggots under her skin to leave her.

The next time she dreams of Tailgate, he has maggots spilling out of his wounds.

[ererokii]

Warmth of your Touch || Eren Jaeger

➳ Eren Jaeger x Fem Reader

Word Count: 4K Warnings: contains spoilers from season three Taglist: @jaegerbomb20 @sleepysnk (message to be on it in the future)

➳  Note: This is from my canceled december event and it was just laying around in my drafts, i might start posting more of those! Also ignore the typos and such, this is HEAVILY UNEDITED.

The members of the Survey Corps couldn’t remember the last time they let loose and had fun. Around here, everyone was on their tiptoes, waiting for any enemy to strike. Really, all of humanity was like this. But the Scout Regiment was the first line of defense, and they always went underground first before anyone else. 

Many casualties swept over the brigade. The return to Shinganshina hit hardest. With the Beast Titan arrival and the fight put up by the Colossal and the Armored inflicted more damage than any group of titans could. With the death of Commander Erwin, and the retrieval of Reiner by the Cart Titan and Zeke, it wasn’t right. With the soldiers returning back home, it was quiet. No one dared to speak another word.

Only 20 or less able bodies made it back home to their families and were lucky enough to see the rays of the sun and breathe in the air that the Earth gave them. Too bad others were left on that battlefield on that day, their bodies becoming one with mother nature once more. 

The days slowly but surely started to get shorter as summer turned to fall. The colors of the leaves changed for the season, right on time. The hot sticky air turned to crisp, and more damp. The sky let out it’s tears and covered the earth with grey blankets more often. The sun was hiding behind the clouds, as the fluffy white shapes overtook the sky. The rays barely peeked through them, unable to give light for the day. 

With the help of Eren’s new hardening technique, he was able to make a new weapon that saved many soldiers from here on out. Hanji was enraptured about it. This experiment, that was a success, was all she could speak about. Nothing else mattered in her mind, and Captain Levi knew that as well. 

Eren was pushed to the brim with this. Day after day, night after night, the boy was exhausted. They pushed him beyond his limits for the technique. Sometimes, he was in and out of consciousness. His titan form decreased in size, his bones would crack upon another transformation to the point where he couldn’t even stabilize himself with his own legs that had the width of twigs.

Fall soon turned over for the year and gave the duty of the seasons to Winter. Winter came rather hard, and quick at that. The harsh winds sent chills up and down the soldiers' spines as they paid their respects to their fallen comrades. An assortment of bouquets were placed in front of the many grey stones that represented a daughter, a son, a father or a mother. 

The dirt underneath the boots of the breathing was moist from the rain. The crunches of leaves was the only noise that rang in a soldier’s ears, despite the sobs from others. 

Eren couldn’t help but carry the burden. He felt as if it was his fault for their deaths. Their sacrifices, only to keep him alive and well. Humanity’s Last Hope. With the newfound memories from his father, he knew that everything laid in his hands. 

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

The seasons passed as they always did. Life in the walls became busy once more. In a year, the Scouts were able to wipe all the leftover titans in Wall Maria. This meant old residents of this wall were able to return to their homes and start all over again. There was nothing wrong with that, but it meant that the fight for their land was over.

Everyone seemed to show gratitude towards the Scouts. At first, they hated the soldiers who would risk their life to put an end to the Titans reign of power. Called them ‘fat pigs who lived off of our hard working money’. Many soldiers of course took offense to this, but decided to stay silent. After all, they were right about the hard working money. Their earnings were the only things that allowed them to have the supplies they needed to survive. 

Winter approached once more to the soldiers of the Survey Corps. Adjustments were made as they needed to happen. Hanji, was appointed as the new Commander of the regiment. The news of humans being Titans spread like wildfire between every man and woman in the walls. The children stayed oblivious. 

The outside word began to shine brighter if possible. The world was rid of the filth that the Titans had left behind. The grass was able to dance in the wind as flowers began to grow from the soil. Animals were able to come out from years of terror, finally realizing they were free. Even though the man eating creatures weren’t attracted to animals, the sight of any being over an average height could place fear into the hearts of anyone, including living creatures. 

The gust of wind blew against the windows of the rooms in the headquarters. Despite everything being closed, the nooks and crannies were able to fill the once warm shelter, making it cold and gloomy. 

The Levi squad, that consisted of those left over from the battle at Shinganshina, were put to cleaning duty. Of course, that’s what you guys always did when Captain Levi felt it was time for a new cleaning, which was about every other day. 

Currently, you got stuck in a room with Sasha and Connie. Your job was to clean the room, wipe the shelves, mop the floor, wipe the desk that was in there, make sure to sweep the room as well. It was a lot of tasks for a room that was meant for one person.

A hum vibrated in your throat as you stood on your tiptoes, using a rag that was given to you by the Captain, to clean the upper shelves. It wasn’t even that dirty. You would give it at least another few days before it needed to be cleaned. It was like Levi had a secret eye for spotting microscopic dust particles.  It was absurd to say the least.

Behind you were the other two, Connie and Sasha. They did do their work! They actually helped, but for some reason they decided nothing to. You could hear their giggles and the clanging of their broomsticks knocking against each other. The buckets getting knocked over with dirty water didn’t help either but hey, if they got in trouble that was on them. Least you were doing your part.

Maybe you could laugh from your room as you watched them run until their legs fell off, begging for mercy as the hot sun burned against their backs. It always amused you when the Lieutenant stared up at them, unamused. 

You flinched when you heard Sasha let out a screech and a cry of anguish discharged from Connie’s mouth.

“What are you guys doing?” you questioned as you swiveled on your heel, turning to face them. Connie’s ass had met the floor, a hand against the floor to keep him upright and the other on top of his head. Sasha on the other hand, still had her arms raised in the air, a look of revelating shock on her features. They seemed to be playing ninjas again by the way Sasha had her leg up and bent in a right angle. 

“She hit me, that's what she did!” Connie abruptly stated, looking up at the two girls in front of him. “You promised not to hit me! I never hit you!”

“It was an accident Connie! Your head just happened to come into contact with my hand! It wasn’t intentional, honest!”

“What’s going on in here?”

Your eyes widened as you held the wooden stick with a vice like grip to your chest. Your heart began to beat a bit faster than usual. Your posture straightened up as you turned around to look at the short man.”C-Captain Levi!”

The said man looked up at you, then turned his head to Sasha and lowered his gaze to Connie, who was still on the floor. No words were exchanged as he took a step back, realizing the mess that occurred. The cleaning supplies were scattered across the floor, the mop and brooms were on the floor instead of the hands of Sasha and Connie, and not to mention the dirty water was spilled and engraved into the rugs. Yeah, they were in deep shit. 

Without warning, Levi made a ‘come forth’ motion with his index finger, to the pair, glancing his silvery eyes to your stiff body. “Keep cleaning, I’ll make Eren come help you.”

“Yes sir!” you saluted him as fast as you could, internally shaking as the three of them walked out of the messy room. As soon as they left, you could hear yelling from the corridor and their terrified squeaks. 

A huff escaped your lips as you bent over, picking up the spare cleaning supplies. Looks like it would be awhile until someone else came to help you.

He said Eren right?

At the name of the boy, your face heated up as you shook your head rapidly, ignoring any thoughts of them. It was often that the brunette invaded your unconscious mind and overtook every crevice of it. His eyes were absolutely beautiful. They had to be your favorite part of him, besides his personality. The way the irises shined in the sunlight, the rays giving them an ethereal look. His lashes complimented them. They weren’t long, but they weren’t short. Whenever he stared at you, you swore you could just lose yourself in them.

His appearance was changing. His hair became longer and rested at the base of his neck. His shoulders began to broaden as he got a bit taller as the year passed. His loud mouth quieted down as he became more realistic with his goals. He was still the same driven boy you met three years ago.

“Hey.”

Your jaw slacked as you looked over your shoulder. Eren was standing in the door frame, as he looked down upon you. It took you a second to realize what position you were in, on your hands and knees with your back facing him. Scrambling off the floor, you swiftly fixed the shirt and pants of your uniform. “H-Hi Eren!”

Fuck you probably embarassed yourself in front of your own crush. He probably thought you were a weirdo.

“Hi Y/N,” he spoke calmly and walked into the room, brushing a strand of brown hair out of his face as he placed a hand on the desk, using it as leverage to crouch and grab a mop. “They made a big mess huh?”

“Yeah they did..they always manage to get themselves in trouble. Kinda shocked..how they lasted this long in the Levi Squad.”

An amused noise came from Eren as he looked out the window, squinting his eyes. Without speaking, he advanced forward to the glass and moved the curtain out of the way. “Well would you look at that..”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“It’s snowing,” he muttered and took a step back, letting the drapes loose from his hands. “Wonder how they’ll get punished.”

“No way it’s snowing?” you asked, ignoring his last words as you rushed to the window, placing your hands on the cold glass. You had just finished cleaning it, your hand prints would now be stuck to it. “Wow it is,” you whispered, a joyous feeling growing in the pit of your stomach. “We should go outside right now.”

“Now? Are you crazy? Captain Levi would punish us twice as hard than those two! We could probably be on our deathbed if we don’t get to work!”

“Oh hush up Eren! When was the last time we were able to have fun huh? Years right? Literally! Live a little!” you exclaimed, tossing the stick on the floor. 

The brunette grumbled in protest as he shook his head, his strands of hair following his movement. “Thanks but no thanks. I rather live my life peacefully.”

An annoyed groan left your lips as you approached him, your lower lip jutting in an agitated pout. “Come on Eren. Please? For five minutes I promise! Levi is probably on the other side of headquarters right about now!”

He turned his head to the side, his eyes piercing into yours. His eyes were dull, but the curve of his lip meant otherwise. His fingers slithered around the silver pole of the mop, the pads of them moving up and down slowly as if he was thinking about it.

“Guess it can’t be helped,” as dramatic as he was, he let out a loud sigh and dropped the mop of the floor. “Let’s go. Before Captain Levi rips us a new one.”

“You’re the best Eren!”

“Uh huh. Now hurry up!”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

The two of you put on your winter coats. It was the same one as the ones you were given in your cadet years, just a bit more efficient. The hoods were over your head as you walked beside Eren in the falling snow. It could have looked like any soldiers left the building. Soldiers with no chores, is what you guys were going for. 

“I think we’re clear now,” you said as you took your hood off, looking around the vicinity. Eren glanced down at you and did the same, running a bare hand through his hair. 

“Well go crazy then. You brought us out here,”

“Shut up Eren,” a huff of air passed your lips, the fumes becoming visible to the eye as it turned to mist and disappeared. Your eyes wandered across the dark clouds in the sky, small white particles falling from the insides of them. The grass that you walked on, began to get covered by the blankets of snow, the crunching increasing underneath your boots as you moved an inch or two. Your fingers itched inside your pockets, begging to touch the white mess.

The tip of your nose began to grow cold as you let out a sniffle, scrunching your nose as well as your upper lip in the process. The cold was nothing compared to this though. Honestly, you wouldn’t have minded coming with someone else, but something about Eren made it ten times more special than a random person.

Eren watched you from his peripheral vision, staying silent as the shock and awe look on your face was enough for butterflies to appear in his stomach. You looked like a child in a jewelry store in Wall Sina. You had to have seen snow before, but it was just in the moment that made you look adorable. His cheeks burned with a rosy red as he looked away from you, craning his neck upwards to look at the grey blanket of darkness. If he looked close enough, he could see the sun trying to peek through the stubborn clouds, but to no avail, it could not.

He fluttered his eyes shut as he exhaled slowly, letting the days stress wash away from his body. Eren was exhausted. Emotionally, and physically. His body was used for experiments constantly, he rarely took breaks as he mentioned that he had to be ready for whatever. Emotionally, he hated his power. He hated being a monster like everyone said he was.

He attempted to be normal on so many levels. At first he knew he wouldn’t be better than those ugly creatures that used to roam the land. The townspeople weren’t his biggest fans. They tried persuading the Military Police to shut him down when he first found out about his shifting ability. It was horrendous. He just wanted to be seen as normal amongst those that were classified as a regular human being. 

He tried so hard, yet no one could listen to him. He couldn’t see himself as human. In his eyes, he was disgusting. He was ugly. He was a monster. 

Oblivious that Eren was in his own state of mind, you decided to take a moment to admire his looks. His eyelashes rested peacefully on the top of his cheeks, small puff of air exerted from his lips as his shoulders heaved up and down slowly. The tiniest of snowflakes landed on his supple skin, and melted away automatically from his warm body temperature. His hair started catching the fall snowflakes. The pieces of the small ice crystals scattered across his locks. He seemed like a snow angel, literally. The tip of his ears were a faint red, freezing from the cold atmosphere. 

He was alluring. You wanted to know more about him. You craved to hear his deepest of secrets that only you would know. You desired for him to be by your side, and for you to take care of each other. The only person that knew of your crush on the boy was his friends, Mikasa and Armin. 

Mikasa seemed to notice right away. In your third year of training, she took notice that you were more upbeat when Eren was nearby or you would try your best to be partnered with him, if she wasn’t already. Sometime in that year, she had approached you straight up, with the same look on her face and said--

“Do you like Eren, Y/N?”

“W-What do you mean?! Course I don’t like Eren!”

“You’re lying.”

She was in fact right. You begged her a hundred times not to bring it up to anyone, especially Eren. You would have rather been eaten by a titan, spit out and get devoured once more instead of having to confront Eren about your feelings. And of course since the universe loved messing with you, Armin happened to walk in on the moment you were begging with mercy and got curious as to what you were speaking about. 

“Y/N, do you like Eren?”

“No Armin, why would you think that?!”

“Yeah she likes him.”

“Mikasa!” 

At the embarrassing memory, you didn’t notice that Eren had already been staring at you, knowing that you were gazing up at him. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m not looking at you in any way! Why are you looking at me like that?!”

“I asked you first, Y/N!”

Panicking, you quickly bent over and grabbed a clump of snow, modeling it into a sphere as you muttered things under your breath. He couldn’t know why you were staring because you wanted to kiss him, oh god no he could not. 

“Y/N?”

“Shut up!” you said quickly and threw the ball of snow at his face, a sound of shock leaving your lips when a noise of surprise left Eren as the sphere slid off his face. He blinked rapidly a couple times, small clumps of white stuck to his eyelashes, making his eyes more alluring. 

“Did you just…”

“Yeah I did..”

It was silent as he crouched down, staring forward but not at you. His hand dug into the blanket of snow and modeled a ball, letting out a shaky sigh. His nose has gone incredibly numb already at this point. His fingers dug into the delicate shape as he made eye contact for a split second before winding his arm back, and brought it forward with full force.

Before you had a second of protection, the ice crystal came into contact with your neck, the shape exploding upon contact and sending pieces flying. Some even fell down your coat and into your uniform. “Eren what the hell?!”

“What?” his grin that has been gone for too long, made its way back onto his face once more. Your heart fluttered at the sight. He looked like his old self once again. As much as you wanted to admit it, you missed him. You missed Eren. “shouldn’t have done that if you weren’t ready for a comeback huh?”

“Oh it's on,” you grunted. 

Little kids is what you became once more. Your shouts and his laughter could be heard miles away from headquarters. Shots of snow were being sent back and forth from either side, some hits being successful, others not so much.

Both of you had to have looked the same by now. Your eyelashes were damp from the melted crystals, as well as chunks of snow staying on top of your hair. Your nose was frozen off as the snow came down a bit harder than you expected, but you didn’t care.

It seems like hours have passed since you’ve come out here with Eren. Chores were forgotten in the back of your mind as your smile seemed to brighten by each second. It was sure that the water stains in the room dried, but left a foul stench in there. Captain Levi would for sure come and hunt you guys down for leaving your job unfinished. 

A loud laugh left your mouth when Eren tripped over a covered branch. His body folded as he fell forward, a yelp withdrawing from his lips. His face came into contact with the snow, his body leaving a decent sized human hole in the ground.

“Eren are you okay?!” you called out for when you stopped laughing, small puffs of air leaving your mouth as you walked over to his limp body.

He grunted as he pushed himself up, giving you an annoyed look. “Yes I’m perfectly fine,’ he grumbled and shook his head, reminding you of a dog as the pieces of snow fell off of his head.

“Run.”

Puzzled, your eyebrows furrowed as you looked down at him in curiosity. “I’m sorry, did you say run? Run for what?”

“Five.”

“Eren what the hell are you talking about?”

“Four.”

What the hell was he on about? If this was another one of his ramblings from his father’s memories, you would personally knock him out and tell him to quit it. But there was a different look in his eyes. His eyes were squinted, small creases formed at the corner of his eyes, a mischievous look in his orbs. His fingers clenched around nothing as he slowly got up from his position. 

“Three.”

Realization hit you like a wagon being pulled by horses as you took a step back cautiously, a small lump forming in your throat. Yeah, no. You rather not be crumbled to the ground by a boy, who weighed more than you. That was a death sentence.

Instead of running, because you wanted to be cautious of any possible injuries, you decided to speed walk in the direction of the doors that led to the inside of headquarters. He couldn’t try shit if you were already inside. God, why was Eren like this?

You didn’t even hear the crunches of the shoes from behind you as a pair of arms wrapped around your midsection and knocked you down onto the ground. With a sharp intake of air, your back collided with the pillowy bottom as you wheezed for air. Your eyes widened when you realized how close you were to Eren.

His hands were by your biceps, caging you underneath him. His brown locks fell forward, but they weren’t long enough to tickle your face. His cold breath fanned against your face as you felt yourself drown in his eyes. His eyes glanced down at your lips before looking into your eyes. He felt all of his willpower from keeping him sane. 

It seemed that his body moved on his own as he leaned down lower a fraction, as if he was getting ready to kiss you, but came to terms that it might not be the best idea. You took notice of it as you moved suddenly, bringing a hand up to his hood and pulled it over his head, making sure it covered his eyes. Your other hand raised up to his face, cupping the swell of his cheek as you leaned forward, pressing your cold lips against his own. 

His whole body tensed for a few seconds before melting into the kiss. His eyebrows furrowed as he sat you both up, cradling a hand behind your neck as if to bring you closer. Your hands moved from his hood to the front of his coat, your fingers curling around the material. A new sense of heat seemed to wash over your entire body. His fingers danced on the base of your neck, shivers running down your body, not only from the cold, but from his electrifying touch. With him being at an advantage, his forehead pressed up against yours. Your fingers weaved into his hair, slowly running up to his scalp, desperately trying to stay in the moment. 

He began to get shaky as he pulled away slowly, tugging on your lower lip with his teeth in the process. His eyes fluttered open as he took a look at your face. It looked like you were struggling to open your eyes after the kiss. It made him a bit prideful when he noticed this. 

“Open up,” he whispered, tapping your cheek with his fingers, a boyish smile on his face. He watched as your eyes fluttered open, a hazy look in your orbitals. 

“Hi Eren,” you forgot where you were as you glanced around the area, realizing you were still in the snow. “..I’m a bit cold.”

“Yeah? Me too,” he responded as he looked over your shoulder before pushing himself off of the ground, lending a hand for you. Gratefully, you took it as he hoisted you up. 

“Do you think Captain Levi found that we weren’t there?”

The boy stayed silent as he thought for a moment before shrugging. “Who knows. Maybe he did and he’s looking for us right now. I think we should go back then, before we get punished,” he muttered and grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. 

You stared down at his calloused palm rubbing up against your own. His hand was different. It was warm and it made you feel safe. Who knew a connection between hands was more than enough to know about your requited feelings. 

“Eren I like you,” you blurted out, your face heating up as you looked down at the ground, listening to the crunches underneath your feet as you advanced forward. 

“Yeah? I knew already.”

“Huh?!” A look of bewilderment and a choke of air was all you could express at the moment. Who betrayed you.

“How—“

“Mikasa,” he interrupted, a hint of smugness in his tone. “I asked her to find out for me last year.”

“Mikasa?” You whispered, voice wavering. You remember that she swore to not tell a soul, not even him. 

“But it worked out right?” He asked and looked down at you, a grin on his face. “You should really thank her one day. She may be silent, but she knows what she’s doing.”

You rolled your eyes as you nodded, hugging his arm close to your chest. “Yeah you’re right. Maybe we should both thank her. She does save your life after all.”

“Hey that’s one thing I would not do. I never asked for it!”

Your laugh could be heard from a few feet away in the midst of the snowfall. Fog began to cloud the outside word as you held onto Eren as a guide. 

Upon hearing your laugh, it made Eren feel human again. His heart was beating faster than normal, a sign that he was feeling another emotion besides fear. The touch of your hand set a fire full of adoration within him. 

Unbeknownst to the two teenagers, their short Captain watched with his hard eyes, his arms crossed over his chest. He had just checked up on Sasha and Connie, who were cleaning the stable and happened to come across the scene not too far away from him.

Instead of deciding to approach the pair and punish them, he let them have their fun. Even if Eren was one of the most hated people in all of Paradis, even the most hated deserved to have someone warm their heart.

[enigma-im]

Eighth day of Christmas...

Trope: Heat (NSFW) Relationship: Werewolf x Human Word Count: 7,058

I knew the moment I stepped off the bus that I was in trouble. From the horrid heat and melting pot of people, this was going to be a challenge. The dry air nearly made me cough the second I got off the steps. Everyone seemed as annoyed with the environment as I, which is a small relief. Looking around at all the people was both a relief and a nightmare. We all had no idea what was going on but I knew I stood out like a sore thumb.

"You," someone shouts, silencing the crowd. I look around till I spot a hardened older Soldier making his way towards me. The crowd splits before he can charge through. The man glares daggers at me before stopping uncomfortably close.

"Me," I ask, pointing to myself with unease.

"Yes, you," he shouts," what other mutts around here would I be talking to?"

"Right," I nearly drop my shoulders," what do you need?"

"I wanted to get a look at the first werewolf soldier who gets to become my guard dog for this year," he answers, appraising me with discontent," I expect excellence from you, mutt, this few months you will be chewed up and spit out a better dog than a better man. You have big shoes to fill, guiding your kind into the future and not a single one of us will give you an inch or centimeter to make mistakes. Do I make myself clear, private!"

I feel a bit wobbly at his words," uh, yes."

The man leans closer to my face, shouting despite the distance," What was that, mutt? Stand tall, be loud! Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," I stand at attention, my stomach rolling into knots.

"That's better," he steps back," Now follow me."

The crowd splits again as the Drill Sargent stomps onward. As he passes, the young men and women look to me, a good mix of intrigued and disgust decorates the group. I straighten my shoulders and march after the man, keeping my head held high with pride.

The first werewolf to join the military, I got a lot to prove.

Conversation with the higher-ups of the camp was tense. I didn't expect it to go as well as it did, though a few sly jokes were made at my expense. They were all weirdly supportive of having me at the grounds, looking forward to trying out their new regimen for my kind. Having a stronger and more capable creature in their boot camp came with its own challenges it seems. They all seem excited to see what I can do.

A lot was explained, trying their best to just keep things running smoothly. No one was going to go easy on me and I'm expected to surpass even the best of their squads. I'm oddly invigorated to take on this challenge.

"With everything all situated, is there anything else we may need to know," the Executive officer asks. He is a sweet man, to my surprise, and has been appreciatively thorough with his preparations.

"Yea, we don't want any issues to come about with having you here. A lot of the soldiers are looking to make an example of you already, though you've done nothing wrong. So if there is anything we have to prepare for then please make light of it now," the senior drill sergeant explains.

"Nothing that I can envision happening here. I'm here to work and become the first in a line of werewolves to join the armed forces. Things will remain respectable on my end so if anything does go wrong I promise it won't be my fault," I answer. A big moment like this I can't even fathom screwing it up with some stupid actions. Let the people make their jokes and rude comments, I'm not bothered in the slightest.

"So we aren't going to catch you humping one of the other recruit's legs, right," the senior drill sergeant jokes.

"Don't want you going into heat and trying to fuck every woman in a mile radius of you," the executive officer joins in. I smile despite the discomfort, shaking my head before explaining.

"No, no, I may turn into a big mutt but I'm not so savage as to do something like that. Don't believe the women would be too receptive to me doing such a thing either. When little Fido does it, it's funny. When I do it, it's enough to get me sent to jail," I joke with them. The two laugh, easing some of the tension.

"But you do go into heat, don't you," senior drill sergeant asks," we look out for medical emergencies and if that will become an issue, let us know ahead of time."

I shake my head," no, that won't be an issue. We only go into heat for a specific person and finding them here would be one hell of a terrible time but I highly doubt it will actually happen. I'm sure I would have smelled them in the crowd if so."

"Specific person," the officer snickers," how romantic, Fido."

"Sounds romantic but I've seen some friends go into rut over their mates, it's not that romantic," I wince, remembering all the fights," it's not a hallmark movie moment, sir."

The officer cocks a brow, wary," I'm almost tempted to ask but I'll refrain for now. Either way, I'll have sergeant Crews bring you to your barracks, and hopefully, we won't have to speak again anytime soon."

I drop off my things at my bunk, sorting them into a chest before heading off to P.T.

The first week of basics is easy, though I'm warned about next week after some miss placed words. My squad takes to me nicely, though I can do without the nicknames. It's a better week than I could hope for after the horror stories from active duty members.

We all sit in the crowded mess hall. Murmurs of conversations can be heard over the disgusting chomping of food. In times like this, I almost wish I didn't have such great hearing. The wet slobbering is beginning to turn my stomach.

"Hey, Spot, is it true you transform on the full moon," Casey, a fellow recruit, asks beside me. I snort, picking at the slop on my tray.

"No, I can do it whenever I want," I answer," full moon thing was for you people to pin some other garbage on the magnetic effects the moon has on the earth."

"oh, wow, movies lied to me again," he lightly bangs his hand on the table," what about silver? Does that do anything for ya?" I scoff, looking at him a bit amused. It has been a lot of teasing but I haven't had anyone sit down and ask before.

"No, silver doesn't do anything for me. Neither does holy water, crosses, or garlic," I tease. Casey rolls his eyes, looking back to his meal with a pout.

"I'm not an idiot, those are for vampires," he grumbles. I chuckle, amused by this human's questions. As I tease the man some more I catch a wondrous smell.

"Besides, I know a normal bullet would work on you anyway," Casey points his fork to me. I can't pay him any mind as I slyly glance around. My heart is racing and pounding against my chest as the smell completely engulfs me. Please no, not now. As I'm looking towards the door I freeze as someone walks behind me. As if everything slowed to a halt I look to the recruit walking over to her table. I can't help but gawk though her attire isn't much to be aroused by.

Brown hair pinned up in a bun and terribly fitted brown and camouflaged clothing. It's meant to be plain and nonattention grabbing but she makes it work. My body thrums with need as I watch her sit at the end of the bench. I can't look away as she eats, looking at her lips like a starved man. I want her, I need her. It's the only thought that runs through my mind.

She couldn't come into my life just a few months later could she?

The whole day I feel like I'm on fire, sickly and distraught. I haven't even been here this long and I feel like I'm about to ruin everything. Surely I can just explain to the XO that I have to deal with this and get right back to basics. I nod, it won't be such a long delay, I'll be right back here shortly.

I head straight to the office, stubbornly marching past the groups still running about. The heavenly smell barely permeates the hot dry air but still nearly knocks me on my ass. My attention snaps straight to her doing push-ups with her squad. She makes quite the sight all sweaty and focused. I can't help but stop and watch.

The squad's drill sergeant walks the rows, screaming motivating insults to them all. My little mate grits her teeth as he passes by, her arms shaking each time they straighten. The sergeant stops before her, crouching down as she stays propped up.

"Getting tired there, private," the sergeant baits," want to take a little break, perhaps?"

"No, sir," she barks out.

"Then get that face in the dirt, let's go," he snaps back at her. The urge to run to the man and deck him in his hooked nose is strong. I have to shake my head of the thought to actually get some semblance of control. She gets back to her exercise, going hard and strong into her next set with a stiff focus on her face. It's admirable to see anyone as determined as she looks. It picks at my heart a bit.

I'm not just taking away this chance for me momentarily but her too. Would she want to take the time off to deal with me? It can't be that big of an issue but starting over has to be something she rather not do. I sure as hell don't want to start the week over even if it wasn't too difficult. She is human so it had to be hell for her. I hum, chewing my cheek.

With fist clenched I turn away from the offices and head back to my barracks. I'll just wait this out, three months is nothing. I can keep my cool that long.

I kept that line of thinking all up till I got to my bunk. The barracks are quiet, the snores of the recruits barely registering to my non-idle thoughts. Every part of me is racing, my heart, thoughts, limbs. I have way too much energy to just sit here. Closing my eyes does nothing but let the thoughts keep me up. I've never had such an issue before, especially here.

Staring up at the ceiling I think of my little mate. She's a cutie, that's for sure. Even with the unflattering get up I can't ignore the appeal of her body. She has strength, as does most of the people here, but watching her do exercises with her squad showed more than just basic strength. I smile to myself as I think about the determined look she had while finishing her set. I have a strong little mate.

I groan as my mind keeps replaying the scene over and over. I can only pray that the rest of the month won't be like this. Turning onto my side I force my eyes closed, trying my damndest to get even a few hours of sleep.

The next week I'm weirdly filled with energy. Every morning I wake up excited to do runs, outpacing everyone by miles as I speed down the dirt track. Exercises become a blessing and every moment I spend sitting down is one where I'm anxious to get back up. The nights are no better, my body humming with unspent energy. It feels amazing to get out there and work.

Sitting at the lunch table I shovel food into my mouth, leg bouncing under the table. I want nothing more than to get back out there and get rid of this energy but lunch is kind of important. As I unflatteringly gulp down the muck an erotic scent ceases my tension. Flowing over my body like a warm shower. I close my eyes, taking in the calm.

"So, I gotta ask," a woman before me asks," do werewolves generally have this puppy energy, or is it just you because watching you hall ass down the track is almost inspiring."

As I open my eyes I'm left gawking at the woman. My beautiful mate sitting just across the table, smirking with her arms crossed. I swallow hard, feeling oddly nervous at this moment. What should I say? Should I say something? She quirks a brow at me, waiting for a reply.

"uh," I clench my pants under the table," depends on the person?"

She hums," is that a question or an answer?"

I straighten," a-a answer, ma'am."

"Hey, lighten up," she knocks on the table," don't need any of the ma'am business. I just wanted to ask, you have been buzzing like a bee this past week and I was kind of hoping it was something I could learn instead of it being genetics." my palms feel clammy the more she speaks. She's so casual, I almost wish she wasn't. I can handle stupid full moon questions over this. I wipe my hand on my pants.

"Sorry, it's all genetics," I give her a half-smile," blessings of the father I'm afraid to say."

She props herself up on crossed arms, her breast squeezing together," so was your mom human? I didn't think you can cross-breed like that." my eyes flick down to her pushed out chest, gulping hard I look down to my hands. I wipe my palms on my pants.

"No, a werewolf can b-breed with anyone," I meet her eyes," just has to be their mate."

"Awe, that sounds cute," she coos. Before she can add anymore the sergeants come in to collect their squads. I watch her look to the crowd, her shoulders dropping. She turns back to me," well, was nice talking with ya, Cujo." with that she leaves.

I remain seated as everyone begins filling out. Looking to my lap I groan in frustration, I never felt more like a measly runt than right now. Couldn't even talk to her and I'm sitting here with a full chub. I look to the crowd once more, catching sight of her turning out of the doorway. Fisting my pants I whimper lowly in my throat.

If I knew talking with her would make things worse then I would have never done it. The night we first spoke was tenser than any before. I feel like ants are crawling all over my skin, my body unbelievably hot. My blankets feel scratchy and too rough on my sensitive skin. I can hardly sleep as all I can think about is that beautiful woman smiling at me from across the table. Her ample chest just perched on her crossed arms. My loins lurch at the thought, aching to a degree I've never experienced.

I fall onto my back, panting as I kick the blanket off myself. Looking down myself in the dark barracks I see the tent in my pants. I groan, thumping my head against the pillow. A boner over a minute conversation with a girl, surely I couldn't stoop so low. I peak at my lap, groaning again as I flex my toes. Perhaps a little attention can soothe the beast?

Timidly I slide my hand down my stomach, fingers sneaking under the hem of my pants. I grab the base of my shaft, squeezing it while slowly closing my eyes. Just have to do this quickly and I got to get some sleep. With the task in mind, I aim for fast. I pump my fist, going harder than I've usually started. My callused hand feels uncomfortable, not helping the smooth glide I need. I take my hands out of my pants and lick my palm before trying again.

I jerk off, feeling itchy and frustrated as I do. I try to get it out and done before anyone can wake up to notice but I can't get into it. Trying a new tactic I relax on the bed. Keeping my eyes shut I slowly pump my fist up and down my shaft, pleased with the torturous glide. An image of my mate sitting across the lunch table pops in my head, my cock twitching at the picture. I admire her harden face, the beauty in her full cheeks when she smiles. I wince as my fingers glide over my tip.

The image shifts as I stare at her tits resting on the table. They are laid bare, her sweet little nipples hard from the cold lunchroom. My cock pulses as I think about reaching over the table to grab her, grazing my hand over her little buds. A whimper tries to bubble out from my throat, the sound surprising. I can't pay it any mind as I imagine tweaking her nipples, watching her face twist in pleasure. In my palm my cock aches, demanding more as I pump harder.

The scene twists, she's bent over the table with her tight ass presented to me. I whimper again, bucking into my fist. A bulge nudges against my hand with every descent. It would be something to investigate if I wasn't so tempted to continue. I picture lining my dick up with her weeping slit, gently pressing my tip in with a retrained grunt. Another whine leaves me, the base of my cock throbbing worst than the rest of me. As fantasy me bottoms out inside her I bite my fist to reject the whimper trying to cry out.

"Fuck," I mumble in a cry. I jerk till I can feel my body shiver in its impending climax, utterly debauched at the fantasy playing out. As I reach my breaking point I grip the hard bulge at the base of my cock, squeezing as hard as I can as I cum in my boxers. My grip pulses as I unload all over myself.

My grip eases slightly as I catch my breath. I feel disgusting as the wet fabric sticks to my tip. Looking down my body I wince at the damp stain. I tug down my pants and catch a look at my still hard dick, I furrow my brow confused. Generally, I'm soft shortly after, not still ragingly hard. I look to the bulge still cupped in my hand. Well, that's new. I test a squeeze. A shot of pleasure jolts up my spine making my head feel fuzzy. I nearly curl into myself at the surprise. That's definitely new.

I take one more glance at myself, wincing at the sight. I'm no fresh pup, I know what's pulsing at my base. I just didn't think it would come out without being buried inside someone. Sighing, I tuck myself away and attempt to get some sleep. I wince at the sticky fabric, suddenly regretting not waiting till a more opportune time to do this.

Circling the track for the 2nd time I catch up with the squad. Everyone is taking a breather, panting hard after the three miles. I casually jog up to them, still vibrating with energy.

"How can you even do this, air bud," Scott grabs at his knees," I knew there would be running but…fuck."

I look at him bemused," air bud?"

"Well it's like my dog, Rufus," another squad member claps me on the shoulder," would just run around for hours once I let him outside." I look between the two.

"I just like running," I answer," I feel rather energetic lately."

We all talk as I bounce on my heels. The sergeant rounds us all up before heading off to the next part of PT.

We begin jumping jacks in our lines, listening to the drill sergeant scream encouragements. Looking off to the side I catch sight of another squad doing their miles. They all seem rather calm, must be their first mile. I watch them go by, just briefly catching sight of my little mate in the middle of the crowd. A smile curls on my face as I watch her run along. Her arms pumping and chest bouncing. A raging need thrums into my veins, my cock standing to attention. I watch her in a daze.

"What are you doing, boy," someone shouts, grabbing me by the back of my shirt. I stumble as I'm tugged backward, torn from my stupor. Catching my bearings I realized I've tried to walk out of formations, ignoring my exercises in favor of following her delicious smell.

"uh," I shake my head," Sorry, saw a squirrel." I half-smile, hoping the joke would land. He grits his teeth, tugging me back in line.

"I'd make you run another set but I think you would enjoy that, instead you're on patrol tonight, Fido," he shouts, walking back down the line," Let's start again, from the beginning. One, two, three…"

Lunch has me excited, feeling like my tail is ready to sprout out and reveal my pleasure. I quickly shovel down my muck, looking around like an eager pup for any sight of her. Spotting her coming out of the line and heading my way I can't help but wipe my face and straighten my clothes. I nearly bounce in my seat as she gets closer.

"So you do have a tail," Scott tugs on something behind me. I grunt, twisting around with a growl. Out of the corner of my eye I catch sight of my fluffy black tail.

"Ah, fuck," I grumble, looking to her coming closer then back at my tail. Without much thought, I pin it between the bench and my thigh.

"Hello, Cujo," she greets," you're endless energy for exercises will never cease to amaze me." she sits down at the table, her tray clanking against the metal. My tail tugs, wanting to break free. I open my mouth to answer, interrupted by someone clapping me on the back.

"Yea, it's making the rest of us look bad. He makes three miles look easy," Tyler jokes as he sits beside me.

"well, it is easy, you guys are just out of shape," she jokes back. I snort, glancing at the offended men on either side of me. My mate has a sense of humor I see.

"haha, hilarious, G.I. Jane," Tyler deadpans.

"It's funny you should say that because I caught you slacking behind your crew today," Scott props his smug face on his hand," it's bad enough they let dogs in the military but you women have a lot more to prove." I can't help but sneer at Scott.

She glares at him, crossing her arms and leaning forward." yea, well what's your excuse, cadet?"

Scott leans forward as well," got a handicap, love, hard to run with three legs."

My mate snorts a chuckle, shaking her head as she grabs her food," What kind souls the higher-ups are to let you join with such a clear handicap."

Scott bounces his brow," you know it, baby. I'll be happy to show you my treatment options, perhaps you can help?" I stiffen at the suggestion, my limbs and chest tightening as Scott continues to flirt. A low rumble climbs up my throat, back arching as I glare at him.

"Think I'll pass, I heard that men with large dicks tend to need too much prep work for a minute of entertainment," she bites back. Scott shrugs as Tyler chuckles, them all going back to their meal. The growl comes out louder, my teeth pricking at my lip as I snarl at him. Scott looks at me, recoiling at the clear aggression.

"You ok, Fido," Scott asks," looks like I'm trying to take your food or something." I feel everyone's eyes on me, confused and concerned. A possessiveness boils under my skin, demanding action against this male. I swallow hard, shaking my head as I glare down at my tray. Reigning back the shift, I shake my shoulders.

"Sorry," I growl," just feeling tense today." everyone nods, quietly eating their meals. I pass a glance to my mate, worried I pushed her away with my lack of control. We look to one another, the edge of her lip tugging up. She looks away with a shy smile gracing her beautiful face. I smile to myself as I eat.

After lunch I go for a run, feeling more anxious than yesterday. I dig hard, making record speed over my fifth mile. My body feels invigorated but anxious as I run. My brain goes a mile a minute, demanding attention to the one person driving me crazy. With Scott's words ringing in my ears all I can do is think about the threat. Someone is encroaching on my territory, challenging my claim.

I shake my head, I haven't claimed her. Hell, I don't even know her name. I run harder. Pictures of her flash through my head, my fantasy of the other night forcing discomfort to my groin. I shake again. Just running isn't doing enough, I need more now.

Slowing to a stop I take off my shirt. Crouching and pressing my fingers to the ground I allow my skin to break. I grunt with my bones snapping and rearranging. The pain feels great, an action my body agrees with greatly. With my claws digging into the dirt and fur bristling in the breeze I bolt down the track on all fours.

cadets and Sergeants gawk as I high tail it around the trail. I breathe heavy, tongue lulled to the side as I hear the air roar in my ears. Everything feels so open and free. This is something I've missed all week. Changing in front of everyone made me feel embarrassed, self-conscious. I'm not like them and proving that could lead to problems. Right now, I couldn't care less. I have other issues to deal with.

After running around for hours I fall in the grass near the tree line, laying on my stomach to bask in the sun. I should be exhausted now, all this mating energy out for the time being. Closing my eyes and resting my chin on my paws I relax. It's a lovely day out.

Sitting there for a moment I feel a burst of energy. I growl. Two hours of running on top of PT this morning, how can I be nearly vibrating with need? This mating business is getting harder and harder to ignore. All I think, hear, smell is her. My cock stirs against my stomach, the hot length pinned to the ground. I growl again.

Making my way to the showers I angrily toss my torn shorts and turn the water on. I step into the cold stream, shocked at the temperature. This should help, I can chill out before patrols tonight. Closing my eyes I press my head against the tiled wall. Not even a second in and I see her. I see her wet and naked before me, giving me eyes and beckoning me forward. I clench my fist and grow as my cock throbs.

"Fine," I grab my erection," you win again."

I jerk myself hard and fast, snarling as I picture pounding into her sweet cunt. Bucking into my fist I imagine her bouncing breast and wonderful cries of pleasure. I need her, I need her so damn bad. Baring my teeth with clenched eyes I feel my base ache. I grab at my knot, pinching it in a tight grip. I can feel my seed go up my shaft, spraying the wall. Whimpering, I pulse my grip on my base, sighing as each drop is let out.

"I can't keep doing this," I whimper," I'm so tired." my cock doesn't soften, even as I turn the water off and dry myself it still aches for her.

Walking the perimeter I look around the dark camp. My uniform feels scratchy and tight as I step. There are bags under my eyes and I'm still filled with energy. I'm tired and hyper at the same time. The walk around the base feels like a dream, hollow and dazed. I'm so sleepy.

The sound of a door opening catches my attention the same time a wonderous perfume punches me in the nose. My head snaps to a shed out a bit of way from the main building. A light is shining out the open door, a shadow cast on the sidewalk. I take another inhale of that sweet scent, my cock pulses.

Like a zombie, I shuffled to the shed. The corners of my vision are distorted as I turn into the doorway. My eyes snap to the person standing at the opposite end next to a shelf. She looks over her shoulder, smiling when she realizes who it is.

"Hey, Cujo," my mate greets," you look like shit, you ok?" she takes a step to me, concerned. A growl snaps out my mouth, my shoulders sagging forward. She recoils, taking a step back. I match her, taking one forward. "Cujo," she tries to say casually but comes out a little worried," you need something from the shed?" I take another step. Her back hits the shelf, startling her as she watches me stalk forward. With all my control out the window, I storm towards her, bracing my hands on either side of her head. My face buries against her neck, taking a large inhale.

"What's your name," I growl out, using the final bit of control I have to ask.

"S-Samantha, my friends call me Sam," she jokes with a timorous hilt. I lick up the taunt tendon of her throat, she shudders. "Cujo," she timidly runs her hand up my arm," what's happening?" I nearly purr at her touch. Her words barely register as I lap at her skin, drunk on her already. I hear the smallest whimper from her, making my ears perk up.

"W-what's your name," she asks as her hand glides up my back to card her fingers through my hair.

"Trevor," I bite at her shoulder," and I can't take it anymore."

"Take what," she says nearly breathless. I can't answer, only having enough thought to grab her thighs and lift her. Her legs wrap around my waist easily, pulling me against her heat. My eyes nearly roll with the friction. With little thought I slowly rock my hips, my tongue licking up her neck to her cheek then licking over her lips. Her fingers tug on my hair, scratching at my skin.

"You want me," she asks. I buck hard into her in answer, she chuckles. "Am I your mate," she asks. A spark starts in my loins at her saying such a thing. Does she accept this? Accept me?

Aching and primed I get her on the ground, licking her as I feel my tail stuck in my pants. My brain is muddled and unfocused, wanting to tear her clothes off and mount her right here. It feels wrong- it feels right. I bite at her shoulder again, frustrated beyond belief as I grind into her.

"S-sam," I whimper," Please."

She tugs on my hair again, snaking her hand under my shirt to pet at my sprouting fur. "What do you want, Trevor," she asks.

"You," I dig my teeth into her skin," you, you, you."

She laughs, rubbing her cheek against mine," then have me, big boy."

In a flurry of need, lust, want, I rip her shirt. I can't bring myself to feel guilty as her nearly naked torso is before me. I lather at her chest, plucking the little strap between her cups with my clawed finger. My tongue wets her nipples, chest, stomach, listening to her little adorable whimpers. I feel frenzied as I shove her pants down and bury my face against her cunt. She smells sweet, tastes like ambrosia.

"Oh, good boy," she grips my hair too tightly. I lap are her folds like a dying man, feeling my body pulse and rejoice. She is amazing and all mine, open and pleasured by me. Her body wiggles and grinds against me, forcing me to hold her hips. Her thighs clamped around my face, nearly covering my ears. I'm pleased to hear her cries and feel her tighten around my tongue as I force it inside her. Oh, by the gods, she's divine.

I continue showering my attentions upon her as she tries to push me away," that's enough, Trevor, I need you." my head perks up at her words. She needs me? I sit up, ripping my already torn shirt off my shifted body. I rush to undo my pants, tearing at them enough for my cock to poke through. I look down at her cunt, licking my chops with excitement. I fall over her, hands framing her head. My hips gravitate towards her, needing her more than air. I whimper as I can't bring myself to plunge into her like a savage. Whimper again I meet her eyes, begging her.

She smiles, reaching up and petting my cheek," go ahead, Trevor, I think I understand." overjoyed I lick her mouth, tail wagging freely now.

Now free to do as I need I look between us and nudge my cock against her. My tip spreads her folds but delving into her awaiting heat is hard. I can't think, instincts taking all my control. I whimper again, looking at her. She smiles sweetly, reaching down and guiding me. I wait eagerly for her to lead me, feeling her place me at her entrance. I shove forward, engulfed easily. I whine and growl as I push as far as I can go. I try to nudge further but my base is already swollen. I chuff.

With my new addiction wrapped around my cock I withdraw before plunging into her divine heat with a heavy breath. This is what I've needed, what I've craved. I can't stop myself from bucking into her hard and fast, demanding everything with each thrust. My ears ring as I'm taken to a world of pure bliss.

Samantha writhes and whimpers with me, grabbing at the fur on my chest. I lean closer, pressing my body to hers. My thrusts begin to shorten till I'm rutting into her with shallow humps. Short uncontrolled bucks that leave my knot knocking at her entrance. An overwhelming need overtakes me. I bump my knot harder and harder against her, demanding entrance with every nudge. With a hard push, she opens more for me. I grunt as I force it, locking her to me with a satisfied sigh.

We both wriggle against each other till I'm left whining against her shoulder, with a well-timed clench on her part I'm bursting inside her. I bite down on her shoulder, marking her as my cum paints her insides. Her walls flutter around me. I listen to her melodious cries as I cum. It's too perfect, too beautiful.

With my cock locked inside her I can't help but wag my tail and lick at her face. She giggles, allowing me to shower her in affection as she rests on the floor. I pamper her, licking at her sweat and cleaning every part I can reach. She is mine now, my wonderful mate.

As my knot begins to deflate I feel the week catch up with me. I collapse on her, my cock softening and falling out. She grunts as my weight is on her. My eyes begin to flutter, my body coming back to its original state. I drift off to sleep without a care in the world.

I awaken in an unfamiliar bed with unfamiliar clothes. Without much thought I sniff out my mate, wanting to roll into her comforting arms. A disgusting chemical smell greets me instead of her warm scent. I jump awake, scared, and worried immediately.

"Whoa, cool it, Spot," someone catches my attention. I snap my eyes to them, seeing a skinny man in normal military attire. The brown shirt and camo pants.

"Where is Sam," I growl, disoriented as adrenaline fills my veins.

"The girl? Probably talking with the XO," he shrugs," should be back here soon." the man looks to his computer on his medical trolley. Feeling he is distracted I jump from the bed and bolt to the door. I can hear him shout but I'm too busy taking in the scents around me. I look left, nothing. I look right, I smell her.

Charging down the halls I turn this way and that as I follow her trail. I feel stressed and angry, to an unbelievable degree. I need her in my sight, in my arms. Her scent leads me to a door, the words on the sign not registering in my mind. I slam it open, spotting her immediately.

"Oh, hey," she smiles as she turns in her chair. She has more to say but I interrupt her. Plucking her from her seat I slam her against my body and bury my face to her neck. I take in her scent, assess her health and the environment. The smell of another makes me stiffen but her fingers scratching behind my ear makes me purr. I can feel my tail wagging behind me.

"Tamed the dog, how cute," someone says. I snap my head to them, nearly growling at my XO. He sits at his desk smug, but still intimidatingly powerful. Though I hold back a sound I can't help but bear my teeth to him.

"Let's not antagonize the pup, alright," Sam jokes. She guides me over to the seats, parting to take her own. Looking from her to the XO I feel the urges again, a primal need to get her out of sight of this male. I shake my head to put myself back into a normal mindset. Reluctantly I sit down.

"Now the excitement is over, Cadet Trevor Galius. You are relieved of training till further notice along with Cadet Samantha Backster," he says calmly. I stiffen at the dismissal, looking at Sam in clear worry. Will she be mad? This is exactly what I wanted to avoid, taking her choice away. Sam glances at me with a disarming smile. I remain wary.

"For how long," I ask.

"Till next January, that's when winter training starts. For now, I encourage you two to settle all that needs to be settled before then," he glares over to me," I'd hate to have a repeat of this semester." I wince, looking down at my lap.

"Will this put a delay on werewolves being allowed in the armed forces," I peak up at my XO. He smiles to himself, dropping it quickly.

"I admire your dedication to this cause but no, there be no delay for werewolves. I hope you don't mind too much not being the first one," he answers. Most of my worries melt off at his words. The only person I'm potentially holding back is Sam, no one else has to suffer for my lack of control.

"That won't be a problem, sir," I answer.

With no final notes, we are dismissed. I walk with Sam out into the hall, fidgeting all the while. We walk out of the main building in silence. Should I say something? Is she mad? I pass glances at her, looking for any signs of distress. She gives nothing away.

"Just ask, I know it's killing you," she bites her lip to stop her grin. I fall apart, reaching out and pulling her against me. I can't take not touching her.

"Please don't be mad at me. I didn't want to force you out of training like this but trying to hold back was killing me. I'm so sorry," I whimper into her hair. She awkwardly pats at my back as I apologize.

"I'm not mad," she answers," far from it. I'm rather excited about all this. Like, it's not every day something like this happens."

I recoil from her, confused," you're not mad?"

She shakes her head," no, I actually had some guesses around our second conversation."

I look at her bemused," you did?"

"Yea, I knew about the werewolf mate thing from my cousin. I went to her wedding about two years ago and she was mated to one of your kind. She wouldn't shut up about how they met and the utter romantic garbage she experienced from him," she scoffs," it was almost sickening how sweet they were but I got to learn some signs. You have been tense and full of energy lately. I figured that was normal but you perked up a lot when I showed up. It was really cute. Still, I had some guesses and when you came to the shed it was heavily validated. So in the end, I'm not mad. Lowkey a little happy you didn't do some over the top romantic gestures like my cousin's man did."

I listen to her rant amused and amazed. She knew? A part of me thinks she just had some hopeful thoughts and wanted the signs to be for her. Or maybe I'm not as good as I think at hiding this. Either way, it doesn't matter because she doesn't hate me. She wants me and I can't do anything but be thrilled.

With a snort, I pull her into a kiss, ecstatic with the turn of events. She smiles against my lips, pulling me close. As we kiss a few people walk back, whistling and making sly comments at us. We part, chuckling with one another at their jokes.

"So you aren't mad you have to join back next year," I ask just to be sure.

"Maybe a little," she shrugs," I guess your just going to have to make me forgive you."

I growl, leaning down and nipping at her neck. Her shriek of laughter makes me giddy. I have my mate, and she's perfect.

[monaisme]

The Battle

No one had seen Peter staggering through the portal. For what they were walking into, Peter could only guess that whoever was on the other side of things was focussing more on the masses and not on some kid from Queens in a spider-suit.

His eyes widened as he tried to take in the destruction before him. Dr. Strange had said that it had been five years and that they all had to go fight; that this was a battle for the very universe.

Peter had almost thought he was joking-- and then he saw this.

The sky was grey with smoke and fires still burned in the rubble that had once been the compound. Peter was sure he recognized the Asgardian symbol still etched into the grass next to what was left of the long drive that wound its way up to the now decimated building. The labs, the training rooms—his bedroom for all those weekends with Mr. Stark… everything was gone. 

He choked back his panic.  

Peter had tried to explain to the wizard what was happening before they’d even left Titan, but the abrupt, “Not now, Peter. We have to go,” followed by their arrival? Yeah, he’d never gotten the chance.

And now? 

Now he was going to die. He was certain of it.

A wave of nausea washed over him and Peter tried not to visibly hunch over from the pain of his body cramping. Beads of sweat dotted his brow and he’d only walked a matter of feet-- granted, it was from one planet to another, but those portals were closed now and that wasn’t the point. It was happening to him again, and someone needed to know that he couldn’t use his—  

“AVENGERS ASSEMBLE!” 

The hush that had fallen upon their arrival was broken by Captain America’s battle cry, and the multitude of people, aliens, and allies were suddenly surging forward in an attack like nothing Peter could ever have imagined.

He did his best to keep up. Peter was an Avenger too, after all, though he wasn’t quite sure how effective he’d be with the asthma that was now acting up with vengeance. Already he was sure it would kill him before any of Thanos’s minions could.

He felt his muscles straining—maybe even rippling as he pushed himself onward, weaving through the clusters of fighting, trying to find some way to help. A tripping up here or the retrieval of a weapon there was all he could manage but he was grateful that he could at least do that.

He paused, doubled over and trying to catch his breath. He tried squinting through the chaos as he gasped-- hoped he’d see Iron Man red through the insanity—and then he did! 

Iron Man was there, firing repulsor blast after repulsor blast at the enemy and for a brief second, Peter was reminded of why Mr. Stark was his favourite Avenger. Then a mammoth of an alien came up from behind, throwing his mentor to the ground and preparing to strike him down.    

Peter moved without a thought. He ignored the ache in his lungs and the pain that was amplifying through his body again as he threw his arm out and thwipped at the creature’s ankles. Peter jerked at the taut webbing with everything he could muster to no avail. He was too weak. His only hope had been...

It took a step closer, lifting its weapon to aim and then... well, it tried.

Even with the explosions and blasts around them, Peter could feel the earth beneath him shudder at the impact of its body falling to the ground and he struggled to stay upright. It looked at the bindings around its ankles, seemingly confused by what could have confined it... not that it mattered.  The big-small guy from Berlin was suddenly stepping over him and crushing their enemy.

If he hadn’t been so shocked by how that had played out, it might have been one of the coolest things Peter had ever seen.

He took a second to take in the scene, the people around him, and then Mr. Stark. Air not moving through lungs right be damned, there he was, and Peter could finally get the help that he needed. “Hey! Holy cow! You will not believe what’s going on,” He paused to try and catch his breath. “You remember when we were in space? And I got all dusty? Well,” he fought to hide the wheeze. “I woke up and you were gone but Dr. Strange was there, right?” Peter’s head was spinning, but he needed to get all of this out so that Mr. Stark understood. “He was like, it’s been five years. C’mon, they need us and he started doing the yellow sparkling thing he does all the time and, oh.” Mr. Stark rushed forward and grasped his shoulders. “What are you doing?” He didn’t understand.

And his mentor, the man he’d secretly thought of as a father-figure for months—or was it really years?—pulled him into a hug.

“Oh, this is nice.” Peter melted in the embrace, feeling safer than he could remember in a long time.  

Their reunion didn’t last long enough. Peter pulled back a little and opened his mouth to tell Mr. Stark what was going on when the battle encroached again and the two were separated.

It was a blur.  Mr. Stark went left and Peter went right—he’d lost sight of the Iron Man suit within seconds, and still no one knew. And then, if things hadn’t already been crazy enough, the Black Panther and that Squidward guy were in a battle for that damned gauntlet... and Peter was there in the thick of it.

Searing pain shot through his legs and spine so he crouched down, trying to relieve even a fraction of it, then the ground rose up beneath him. He’d barely managed to keep his balance when the Black Panther tossed the gauntlet at Peter directly and continued on with his fight.

He couldn’t hide the shock on his face. He’d caught it and even managed to keep hold of it while the earth below him dropped, leaving him winded and spread eagle on the ground. “Aw, shit,” he coughed out as he tried to catch his breath again. He just couldn’t catch a break.

And then he noticed the silence, again.

Every eye was on him.

In a burst of genius, Peter webbed the gauntlet to his chest and shouted out, “Activate Instant Kill!” Karen complied and within a blink, his red-lensed mask was back in place and six vibranium legs extended from their hiding place. Peter uttered thanks for Mr. Stark and his ability to create something so ridiculously intuitive. The legs brought him back up to standing, but he staggered as he tried to find his footing. The suit had been incredible to use on Titan, but that was before his powers had—

The crowd of enemies swarmed.

He hadn’t moved quickly enough. His reflexes were fighting with his new limitations, leaving him with exactly zero ability to fight back against the dogpile currently punching and kicking on top of him. He felt a couple of his ribs break and he collapsed from the sheer weight on top of him as he curled around their prize. It hurt so much more for his body’s rebellion. His six legs slashed and stabbed at his attackers giving him a hell’s chance of trying to claw his way out. “Help.” Peter choked out, “Somebody help.”

He could barely hear Captain America over his comms, “Hey, Queens! Heads up!” Like a man drowning at sea, he raised his hand up above the fray and webbed hold of Thor’s hammer handle as it flew past.

He couldn’t be sure if he heard or felt the pop of his shoulder dislocating as the hammer’s momentum pulled him from the fray. All he knew was that it hurt like nothing he’d ever experienced in his life. It took everything he had left—and it didn’t feel like much—to not release. Instead, Peter grabbed onto his web with his good hand, brushed against the gauntlet still attached to him, and prayed that his strength would hold long enough to get him far enough away.

A blast from a ship overhead messed that plan up right away as it sliced through the webbing and he plummeted to the ground. He was sure he was going to die in that very moment and closed his eyes, bracing himself for an impact that never came. Someone in an Iron Man-like suit caught him by his dislocated arm and flung Peter back up into the air.

He was sure he’d screamed, even as his vision whited out from the pain, and he was sure he was airborne, even as his head had barely cleared and the wind whipped past him. That he’d landed on something that was rising and dropping in a rhythm unlike anything he could place was confusing, even as his mind began to muddle—though he thought that might be because of the fever.

Dammit! The fever had been the worst last time.

He worked to focus on his surroundings—couldn’t, and then he was falling again.

No one caught him this time.

He came to with a start and a laser focus. The earth around him was exploding and it didn’t matter that he couldn’t breathe and he couldn’t see and that his muscles were screaming out in agony and that his nerves were on fire and that he was so damned hot—all that mattered was that he do his part, ‘cuz Spider-Man was an Avenger. He couldn’t move though, it was too much for all of the weapon fire, save for closing his eyes, curling himself protectively around that damned gauntlet and waiting for the end.

Please, let this end.

And then it did.

If Peter had known to open his eyes, he’d have seen a bright light streaking through the clouds and then cut straight through the ship that had been raining down hellfire, even with his poor vision. He’d have seen the ship darken and then tilt, even as it floated above the battlefield, then crash into the hoards of Thanos’s alien soldiers, decimating their numbers. He’d have seen the streak of light slow, and then descend to exactly where he lay.

But he kept his eyes closed, hoped it would make him invisible...

Someone tapped on his shoulder.

He gasped at the shock of the touch and his eyes flew open, though he had to blink a few times to clear his vision. The dirt and dust were still settling and the grit was irritating his eyes something awful. But then he could see—crouching on the ground before him, a woman, all glow and smile.

He could have wept with relief. An ally.

He staggered as he climbed to his feet. Black spots danced before his eyes, but he fought against them, tried to take a deep breath, and then fought again the pain of his transformation and battle injuries. “Hi,” he rasped out. “Peter Parker.”

Her smile disappeared and her brow furrowed in concern. “Hey, Peter Parker. You got something for me?”

His ears started ringing then, and the earth tipped just a little to the left. He couldn’t understand, “What?”

He thought she was looking at him a little weird, which was okay, ‘cuz Peter was a little weird, but then she stepped towards him, cautious. “Peter? Can I have the gauntlet now?”

His eyelids fluttered and he could see the blackness edging in at the corner of his vision, but he knew he had to fight it. She needed something from him and it was... was...

“Peter?”

He swayed.

“Peter, I’m gonna lay you down, buddy. Okay?”

He nodded dumbly.

She placed a hand on his good shoulder for comfort, he thought, but then she was laying him down in the dirt.”

“Stark!” He heard her bark out to no one. “Something’s wrong with your kid. Get to my position now!”

He closed his eyes as the woman stood up and starting firing at something over wherever because it didn’t matter anymore. He was just gonna rest for a minute and closed his eyes and—his head lolled to the side.

“Peter!” A hand tapped against his cheek. “This is not the time for checkin’ out, kiddo. Wakey, wakey!” The hand tapped again.

“Stark, I need to get the gauntlet over to the quantum tunnel.” Weapons fire blasted over him. “Is there any way you can get that thing off of him for me?”  More blasting. “I didn’t want to damage him or the suit anymore, in case...”

The tapping turned to light slaps and Peter tried to swat it away. “Nghhh.” He turned his head away.

“Hey! Peter! C’mon, kid. I need you to listen to me.”

Mr. Stark?

“We need you to switch your web settings to the solvent. I don’t know if it’s your suit or mine, but a suit is damaged and FRIDAY can’t connect to get Karen to make the switch.” He slapped again. “Pete, we need the gauntlet and can’t get it off without burning you. Are you hearing me?”

More shots and then an explosion off in the distance.

Mr. Stark muttered a “shit.” The slaps started to hurt. “We gotta do this now, kiddo. Please wake up.”

It was like he was just waiting for someone to ask nicely. His eyes widened and he gulped in air like he’d been underwater. He looked around, trying to get his bearings. “Wha’s goin’ on?” He asked, using the last of that breath.

“Thank goodness! Pete, your web solvent. Activate it. We need to get the gauntlet off of you and away, okay? Can you do that, buddy?”

Peter looked at Mr. Stark, who’d definitely been hurt since they’d last seen each other, and then at the woman standing as protector over them. He thought he understood, nodded a yes to Mr. Stark, and then whispered, “Karen, web solvent.” He knew that the change had happened. Karen never let him down—and then he moved his arm to spray and release... or tried.

Mr. Stark saw what he was doing and saw what the problem was right away. “Kid, the shooter’s damaged. You’ll need to use your other...” Mr. Stark must’ve finally noticed his other arm—and the obvious malformation at Peter’s still dislocated shoulder. “Oh. Shit.”

Even for the everything going on inside of and around him, Peter’s brain cleared enough to mutter, “Just move it and double tap.”

Another explosion, this one closer than the last one, went off and the woman looked at Mr. Stark, announced that she’d be right back, and flew off into the chaos.

It was just the two of them.

Mr. Stark looked lost as he shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt you, kid, but we don’t have time...” He gripped Peter’s limp arm and closed his eyes, like he was praying. “I’m so sorry for this.”

“I’s okay, Mr. Stark,” he coughed out. “Fix it later, ‘kay?”

Mr. Stark teared up a little, then nodded. “Yeah, kid. We’ll definitely be fixing this.” He lifted Peter’s arm and manoeuvred it so he could access the webshooters. He looked back into Peter’s eyes and said, “I’ll be quick.”

And with a nod from Peter, Mr. Stark pressed down on the webshooter and covered the gauntlet—finally releasing it from its webbed confines.

The world spun as Peter grunted through the pain of having his arm manipulated. The grunting led to coughing and, as Tony lifted the gauntlet off of Peter’s chest, the coughing became uncontrollable and turned into choking.

“Is he okay?”

The woman had returned.

“I’ve got him. Just deal with that,” Mr. Stark commanded as he handed her the gauntlet and the woman flew off.

If Peter never saw it again...

He suddenly gagged as he struggled to find a rhythm, but he couldn’t. The gagging turned to dry heaving and he could barely inhale. Peter started to panic.

Mr. Stark was right beside, but moved—shifting Peter onto his side and ignoring the lighting pain in his arm altogether as he moved him into the recovery position.

His throat tightened and then his body purged. Bile and Titan’s dust filled his throat and mouth as he tried to expel it, but he was so weak and so tired...

A hand slammed against his back, “Get it out, Peter. C’mon! Out!”

It helped, as he tried to empty himself of that other planet, and Peter thought that maybe he’d be okay until—

Muscles rippled once more and his entire body burned from the inside, out. His senses amplified it all as he could hear everything from the cries of people dying on the battlefield to crackling of flames still not burned out. Beyond the vomit and Mr. Stark’s blood, the smell of dust and ash filled his nose and he choked again as the wind sandblasted his face.

He tried to cry out.

Mr. Stark pressed firm against his back, “I’ve got you, Peter. I’m here.” He whispered, and he leaned over the boy to sweep the vomit from his mouth. “We’ll fix this, kid. I promise.”

And Peter was just grateful that he wasn’t going to die alone.  

The fight was dizzying in its intensity, so he closed his eyes to the onslaught of visual stimuli. His timing was impeccable, as a flash of light bright enough to burn through Peter’s eyelids burst out from somewhere—Peter couldn’t focus on it for the pain of the overload. He writhed as though tortured.

And then the wind caught again—this time it carried with it a different ash, one he’d smelled on Titan and that he couldn’t bear to smell again. He clawed at the ground, tried to get away from the inevitable... tried to get away from the hurt and darkness and moaning and wailing and emptiness...

And then Peter finally succumbed to the nothing.

* * * * * *

“—eter! Wake up! C’mon, ki—“

* * * * * *

“—incredible! His DNA is literally rewriting its—“

* * * * * *

“The overload must have been just—“

* * * * * *

“Hey, Peter Parker, you’re pretty badass considering—“

* * * * * *

“—on his side! Bruce, grab the compresses again, now! Dammit, he’s seiz—“

* * * * * *

“—May. I know. I wish you could be here, too, but as soon as he wakes up we’ll give you a call and set up a video chat, okay?” A pause. “Yes, May, I’ll tell him that you love him.” A snort laugh. “Yes, May. I’ll give him a big kiss and tell him that he’s grounded.” Another pause. “I know, May. Do you need anything? I can have—“

* * * * * *

“—eter? Hey, kid, are you coming back to us now? I’ve waited a long time to see you, bud, and you’re making me nuts here. I can’t do another five, ‘kay?”

* * * * * *

“—don’t wake him up, Pepper. I’m telling you. Dr. Cho did some tests and it looks like he’s coming back to us. We just need him to—I don’t know? Finish cooking?”

Ms. Potts snorted. “Cute, Tony. I’m just worried that you aren’t getting the rest that you need and with everything going on now—“

“Hey, hey, hey! You know you don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine—and tired is like a perpetual state of being for me—even now that I’ve been domesticated.”

Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts laughed quietly, and then Peter was sure he could hear the sound of kissing. He groaned. Seriously? He was dying and his mentor was making out with his fiancée?

“Peter?”

He inhaled deep, trying to wake up a little more before answering, and noticed the mask on his face. He tried to bring his hand up to remove it but it caught on a—a sling? “Wha-?”

A hand pressed his arm back to his chest and adjusted the mask. “Try to be still. And no touching that, too, Pete. Dr. Cho says you need this for a little bit longer, okay?”

“Mis-er Stark?” He finally managed to open his eyes and tried to understand the monitors and equipment in the low-lit room. “Wha’ happened?” He pushed out.

“We had another go at Thanos, Roo, and this time, we won.” Mr. Stark replied, but he looked so sad—

“Mis-er Stark?” Peter remembered the battle, remembered seeing Mr. Stark bruised and bleeding. “Are you o—“ Peter’s words cut off as a jolt of pain lanced through legs and he almost cried out. He caught himself though, and tried to keep going.

Mr. Stark stopped him. “Hey, I’m okay—just worried about you right now.” He ran his fingers through Peter’s hair, pressed his hand against his still fevered forehead, “I am so sorry that you have to go through this again, Spider-Man.”

Peter didn’t know what to say to that, so he shrugged, wincing as he jostled his still bad shoulder. “It’s okay.” He mumbled. “Couldn’t be helped...”

Mr. Stark’s sadness morphed to tortured. “No, I guess it couldn’t...  I’m still so sorry.”

Peter could feel the exhaustion trying to claim him again, but he was missing something. “Uhhh- is somethin’ else goin’ on?” He looked between Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts, who had stepped back a few steps to give the two heroes a moment alone.

“Everything is fine, Peter.” Ms. Potts piped in, looking far less melancholy than Mr. Stark. “Tony is just upset that you’re having such a rough time of it, but all’s right in the end and...” she looked at her watch as she dragged out her answer then looked at Mr. Stark, “I believe we’ve probably delayed telling Dr. Cho that you’re awake long enough, so if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to inform one of the nurses.” She smiled at the boy in the bed, rubbed at his calf affectionately as she walked by the bed, and then stepped out of the room.

It was getting difficult to keep his eyes open. “Mis-er Stark?”

The man leaned forward and pressed a tender, paternal kiss to Peter’s forehead. “Why don’t you rest for now, sweetheart. I’ll tell Dr. Cho that you fell back to sleep and we’ll talk when you’re more awake, okay?”

The smile Peter offered up was kind of goofy. “Okay—but...” Peter looked around the room. “Can you stay with me?”

Mr. Stark knew how much Peter hated the med bay— always stayed, “You know I will, Petey. I’ll always be there for you.”

Peter muttered a quick, “Thanks,” and closed his eyes.

If he’d been more alert, he would have noted the underlying tone that Mr. Stark had used... would have realized that the man was making a promise bigger than an evening.

But he didn’t, and it didn’t take long for the boy to give in to his exhaustion. He’d slept through the last stretch of his transformation the first time—and this time seemed no different, save for the injuries he’d suffered, and even they’d heal soon enough.

And as he slept, he missed the prayer that Mr. Stark offered to whatever deity would listen—that Peter would know just how much he meant it. He would be there for him, no matter what.

[passable-talent]

the dragon anakin au was so good can we get a part 2 please

AHDKCJSHWE DEADASS???

find Part One here 

“I curse the Force from this place! May its kindness never guide you again!” 

The morning cold had settled in your bones, after spending the night so warm, in Anakin’s arms. Staring into the eyes of a dragon made it no better. His back teeth sparked, and from the mouth of the dragon came the flame, directed in a stream straight to you. 

Its fingers latched onto the wood before you, and wind moved past you as though even the air wanted to escape the flame. It consumed the wood it touched, and consumed the sky from above you, and all you could see was the flame.

But it did not consume you. 

In fact, it did not even touch you. Red and yellow heat surrounded you, stole the air from your lungs, catching and crawling on the wood around you, but not near you. Somehow, surrounding where you kneeled, chained to the platform, no fire crept closer. Astounded, you stared, your breathing laboured as the heat and smoke advanced where the fire did not. You looked forward, wishing you could shield your eyes from the flame, and something caught your eye. 

There was a silhouetted black figure, splitting open the flames as he walked, parting them as though they listened to him. It was Anakin, with his dragon’s cloak, and as he approached he revealed a glistening axe. 

You couldn’t react by the time he had struck down, slicing cleanly between your hands, freeing you from your chains. 

“Come,” he said, and you took his hand. He tugged you to your feet, and within the fire, he wrapped you in his cloak. Together you ran from the flames, escaping from the flame in the chaos of the village, and fled through the streets, to where his forest began. 

You stopped and turned, faced with the destruction of the town. Before you was a wall of flame, like nothing you’d ever seen, the platform and nearby council hall nothing but fuel to a pyre. 

“(Y/N), we have to go!” Anakin shouted, and you tore your eyes away. 

Halfway to his cavern and you stumbled, dropping to your knees in the dirt. At no point had you ever been in any real danger, but the betrayal of Palpatine and the guard hurt you nearly as much. In the exertion of running, the cut on your chin had begun bleeding anew, rolling down your neck and staining your collar. 

“Love,” Anakin said, and that was all, picking you up from the ground with your knees over one arm and your shoulders resting on the other. He carried you the rest of the way. He knew you could’ve made it there yourself, but he also knew you didn’t have to. 

He set you down on one of the couches in the loft of his cavern, and quickly gathered a wet cloth. You were coated in dirt, soot, blood, and he began with gently wiping your face. 

“They were going to sacrifice you,” he said, gaze loving and concerned. 

“I failed to kill you,” you said, closing your eyes. “They said that if you...” What had even been their intention? “I guess they thought that if you ate me, you wouldn’t bother them for a while.” Anakin rubbed his thumb over your cheekbone upon another swipe of the cloth. 

“You’re safe now,” he said, and you shook your head. 

“We aren’t,” you insisted, reaching up to hold onto his hand, catching his eye. “They’ll just send another knight, or worse, and now you have me to look after too, and it’s just-” You looked down in shame. “I’ve made it so much worse for you, Anakin.” 

“No,” he breathed, bringing you close and pressing his forehead to yours. “I’d do anything for you. I’ll keep you safe, no matter what.” You craned your neck up quickly to press a kiss against his lips. It was brief, and you rested back against the couch. Gently he ran his thumb over the cut on your chin, the very one he’d given you a few hours ago. 

“You said they’d take care of this,” he said softly, moving a chest nearby the wall, and digging around within it. When he returned, he scooped a fingerful of salve from the glass container he’d found, and spread it along the length of the cut. 

“I thought they would,” you said, “they would take such good care of me when I returned.” 

“Unless they decide to destroy you,” he added, a dark tone within his voice. “They tried to kill you.” Saddened, you didn’t answer. When he felt you were clean, and taken care of, he straightened up. 

“I’m going to kill them,” Anakin said, his expression hard. 

“Anakin,” you said, surprised by his violence. 

“I’m going to slaughter them like animals.”

“No, no,” you objected, following as he stepped down into the main floor of the cavern, his cloak billowing behind him. “No, the townspeople have nothing to do with this.” Anakin turned to you, and you had never seen him this angry, not even when you attempted his life, all that time ago. 

“Then why’d it happen?” He snarled, and you took a step back, unsure of his intention. 

“It- i-it was Palpatine. He ordered it, but-” Anakin turned, and began to run, opening his cloak like he would open his wings, and began his transformation to dragon form. 

“Anakin, wait!” You called, chasing after him, but he flew from the cave, and over the trees. You skidded to a stop at the stone ledge, glaring at his figure as it disappeared over the forest, no doubt on his way to Coruscant. 

In frustration, you lifted your hands to your forehead, then moving them back over your scalp until you framed your temples with your forearms, hiding your face between your elbows. With angry steps you moved back into the cavern, taking hold of a gold coin and throwing it with as much force as you could muster. You pulled your saber from your belt, igniting it with your incantation, and for a moment just listened to it hum. Your name would be a stain upon the Jedi Order- the knight that couldn’t kill a dragon, that couldn’t stop their own execution. And Anakin was gone, to burn down the village or worse, you wouldn’t know until he returned, and you didn’t know when that would be. 

There were a thousand reasons to rage. So you snuffed your saber and sat at the opening of the cave, looking out over the forest, trying to meditate. 

“There is no emotion, there is peace,” you breathed to yourself, looking out over the calm forest. Anger hadn’t served you in the past, and it wouldn’t know. 

“There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.” As long as Anakin was a threat to Coruscant, Palpatine would never stop sending knights after him. You needed to figure out a way to settle it all. 

“There is no passion, there is serenity.” But you felt the lie in your heart. You had broken the code of the Order- first, by failing to kill Anakin, and now, letting your passion guide you into a life with him, running from the Order and from Coruscant. Sooner or later, you’d need to come to terms with one of the scariest thoughts to ever cross your mind: you weren’t the Jedi Knight you thought you were.

“There is no chaos, there is harmony.” When this was all over, it would be the way it had been- and you could spend your time with Anakin, without worry of Coruscant. Maybe you could even be a Jedi knight, or a Grey at least, doing service to the kingdom outside of the Order. 

Anakin returned not an hour later. You stood from where you’d been reading near the mouth of the cavern and set down your book, happy to see him. But as he approached, you noticed something. You’d only seen him fly twice before, but something about the way he was flying now looked wrong, off. Like he was unbalanced. You took a step or two closer to the entrance, and when he landed, he barely even slowed his momentum before beginning his change back. 

“Anakin?” You rushed to him as he stumbled forward, and caught him before he fell. Now you could see what had caused the issue- he was torn, bloodied, and bruised. You guided him to a seat and let him lay, trying to take stock of all of the wounds. 

“Anakin, what happened?” You said, panicked, noticing more and more wounds. His legs were sliced in a few places, he had scratches on his shoulders and chest, and a deep, vertical cut over his right eye. It seemed that he had avoided any damage to the eye. 

“I meant to kill Palpatine,” he said, and your eyes widened. You rushed up to the loft to gather the supplies he’d used to clean you up, and returned with them to tend to him. 

“Did you?” You asked, first wiping up his face so that the blood wouldn’t run into his eyes. 

“No,” he said, letting out a breath. “I hesitated just long enough that he could draw his sword and give me this-” he indicated the cut over his eye, “And by then, the guards were there to do the rest.” You paused to cup his face, searching his eyes. 

“You didn’t need to do that,” you said softly, “You didn’t need to put yourself in danger.” He reached up, and as his cloak fell from his arm, it only revealed more blood. 

“I’d do anything for you.” Though he was bleeding, you took a moment to look at him, and appreciate what the force had given you, guided you toward. Master Yoda could have chosen any Jedi to send to Coruscant, but it was you. 

“Anakin? (Y/N)?” Came a voice from outside the cave, and you looked toward the entrance with suspicion before leaving Anakin’s side to investigate. 

It was the old woman who had allowed you to stay in her home, Shmi. But she wasn’t... she certainly didn’t look the same. Her hair, normally pulled into a bun at the back of her head, now fell around curled, black horns. She wore a dragon’s skin cloak.

“Shmi?” You said, in disbelief.

“Mom?” Anakin echoed, having heard her name. You looked back to him in surprise, then to Shmi. 

“You’re his-” you reached down to take her hand, pulling her up and past the ledge, one or two things clicking into place in your mind. 

No wonder she kept insisting that you return to the dragon. No wonder she never said a thing when your ‘wounds’ washed away with a single swipe of a washcloth. 

“Thank you, dear,” she said, giving your shoulder a squeeze before approaching Anakin. “You’re both in danger, you need to hide.”

“Hide?” You said, wondering what could possibly happen that would make today worse. 

“The council of Coruscant has ordered an army of golems. They’re on their way- you need to get as far away from here as you can.” Golems were- well, bad news, first of all. Every village in the kingdom had a collection of statues that could be animated into soldiers, if there were need. The ones surrounding Coruscant were called the Droids, and they were sculpted as archers. 

“We can’t abandon this place,” you said, not wanting to engage in unnecessary battle, but unwilling to leave Anakin’s home. “We can protect it. I can take on the Golems.”

“(Y/N),” Shmi began, but the rumbling began. “(Y/N), be careful,” she insisted, “Councilman Gunray has been sent to ensure that Anakin is killed. If he sees you-” 

“I’ll be careful, I promise,” you said, cutting her off. 

“Wait,” Anakin called, fishing his cloak out from beneath him. As he pulled the cloak from his body, he lost his scales, his horns- his human form became even less dragon than you’d ever seen it. “No arrow can pierce it.” He held the cloak to you, and you fashioned it around your shoulders quickly, then giving him a quick kiss. 

“Stay here,” you told him, “where you’re safe.” Shmi nodded, taking over treating his wounds, and you turned to the entrance of the cave. The rumbling had stopped, which likely meant that the droids were waiting for Anakin to reveal himself. 

You pulled the cloak’s hood over your head and stepped forward, your face hidden in the shadow of the cloak, and your saber hidden within it. 

You threw the cloak open, letting it flare out from your sides, opening your arms and igniting your citrine saber. 

The droids began firing, and you descended upon them. 

If you could avoid the arrows, you could easily get close to them, and with a swing of your saber the magic inside them died, and the pieces of statues would crumble into the dirt. You cut through them, through the masses of them, their heavy feet preventing the agility they’d need to even stand a chance against you, great Jedi Knight, trained in combat by the Masters Yoda and Windu. No droid could stand a chance against you. Only when there was not a single left standing, and broken statues littered the grasslands like fallen soldiers, did you turn toward the trees. 

You were panting, breathing hard, black dust and sand of crumbled stone collecting over your face, cut through with lines of sweat. It took a moment, but you located Councilman Gunray, cowering behind a tree. 

You lifted your saber, so you looked straight down its orange, fiery blade at him. 

“Tell Palpatine,” you roared, “that if he leaves us alone, he will receive no more hostility.” You glared, eyes sparking with the ferocity of a battle won. “But if he tries to rain down fire upon us, he will be flooded with fire and death the likes of which he has never seen!” 

The councilman fled. 

He returned to Coruscant with a harrowing tale. It seemed, in his fear, many of the details of what he has seen were warped and changed, molded to fit what he had expected from the day. He told of the fallen Jedi knight who had stood at the mouth of the dragon’s lair and opened wings, fire sprouting from their hand before descending on the droids, and destroying them all. He told of the fallen Jedi knight who stood before the councilman and threatened him while breathing fire, black scales erupted from their face. 

Your curse had burned Coruscant, the townspeople whispered, and in the fire you’d been reborn as a dragon spirit.

They began to call you Sidious. 

-🦌 Roe

| part 3 | part 4 |

[hekatepoetryxxwriting]

Experimental Gothic Work, Piece One: The Wolves in the Woods

There be wolves in them woods.

Let that warning sit in the bones, be a belly ache in the small children huddled in bed, sheets pressed tight to their eyes as the candlelight dims.

Walpurgis Night, when the moon descends upon the patchwork houses and women of the skies join hands and dance upon The Brocken. The church doors close, they will not open again until spring brings its first bloom, the lamb bleats its first cry. Instead the priest shall fix his cross to the wall, shall watch it slip and fix accordingly until the Bald Mountains brush away their glacial caps and return to God’s Eye. He is blind on the Sabbath and can do naught but watch as the heretics fell upon the kirkyards and yes, my child, they will find grandma’s corpse, and feast upon it. Because that is what mother says witches do.

The villagers pray in the town square. Standing at the foot of an idol made of sticks and kindling, a wicker remnant of a time before God, even though the abbess claims this does not exist. God has existed since before time, she ‘educates’. The people nod, they don’t dare mention the honey cakes and ale they would gift to the Forest. An old woman strays from the flock to listen once more: there was a time the Forest would hum back.

The idol moves! No, not the idol, silly girl. The witch who stands upon the altar, her lungs as black as her heart. All witches have black hearts, mother says so, so it must be true. Mother learned this from her mother, a bloody lullaby she sings by the hearth, where the fire crackles and keeps the dark where it belongs. The fire purges, it reduces the girl upon the pyre to ashes. Her brother watches from the lawman’s cottage that he had visited for so many days before they came for the witchling. Her mother pleads with God to open His gates an inch, to allow her newly-bled daughter in. Don’t you know that your God has better things to do on such unholy nights?

When the clouds part the men shall gather up the bones and cast them into the dirt. Witches have no place in the kirkyard. Their bones crawl back up from the ground, a tasty treat for the neighbours dog.

A boy cries “Wolf!”. The men come running, they come with torches and axes. A boy would not lie. He cannot be tempted so, does not possess the hollow space between his belly and his flesh. Women are corrupted when the fruit is rotted, everyone knows that. They search, they find nothing. Perhaps the wolf was simply scared off. The boy bares his teeth and runs home. His next cry may be to warn of an animal with two-legs instead.

Before the night is over, a young woman must don her cloak to visit Grandma. The old lady is sick, she mumbles prayers and keeps her Bible beneath her pillow, though she cannot read. Reading is for the Devil’s Daughters. It is done under moonlight, hidden away from the civilised folk. The young woman knows better than to keep pages in her house. She is as good a Christian as her father has prayed she could be.

The forest is painted purple and orange, where the moon goddess guides the sun god into her, their blinding light splits the stars. For this one night, they are not enemies.

The girl walks into the forest alone anyways, ignores the hunters who insist on ‘keeping her company’. She has done this journey a dozen times, she tells them so.

But not tonight. They whisper it as she turns her back on the village. Who would dare wander on Walpurgis Night?

But she goes anyway, wrapped in white; her mother’s wedding cloak. It catches on branches, their pine-crested fingertips threaten to carry her from the path. Oh, but those wolves do howl so. It is like birdsong to her ears. She pauses to listen, opens her mouth to call back. No sound comes out.

She continues to Grandma’s house.

But Grandma has another visitor tonight. His arrival is announced by the wind battering against the old woman’s windows. She has drawn her curtains closed, kept her fire burning, done all the things her mother beat in her before going to the grave. It means nothing when you cannot read the book meant to protect you.

A knock at the door causes her cross to fall from its station.

Who is there? She calls.

Your most loving granddaughter, the mimic cries back. His voice is a stolen relic of some other young girl he has devoured months before. Claimed her heart and then her insides and only then had he swallowed her whole, taken her into him. Lycanthrope; the ability to shift, to transform, to adapt.

The wolf enters, dressed in man-skin and a sharp-toothed smile. Grandma can only clutch at the rosary around her neck, but this is not a demon, there is no salvation when the Forest comes howling at your door. Her skin is like leather but the flesh still tastes good, he delights in this, takes what is left and bundles it up and throws it on the fire, watches the hair spark like tinder.

The young girl arrives precisely on time. He smells her, scents the familiar odour of a girl teetering between girlhood and womanhood. The wolf-man adorns Grandma’s cap, curls up in her bed and hides his bloodied teeth behind full, pinkish lips.

The girl steps into the open door, drops her basket filled with warm cakes and cheeses, and breathes deeply. The faint smell of musk and iron lingers on her tongue. As if drawn by an instinct dwelling deep inside the pit of her soul, she nears the bed.

She exclaims “Oh my, Grandma - what big eyes you have!” Already, the wolf’s deceit fails him. Society has become an ocean when it was once a stone; he has not seen the world of man in quite some time. The power of the woman is to shift, to transform, to adapt. He flutters long lashes, watches the girl unlace her boots and perch upon the end of the bed.

“All the better to see you with.”

She inches closer, unbuttoning her coat. And then her blouse, and then reaches for her apron. Nimble hands make quick work of it, dropping it into a pile with the other garments. She reaches for his hand, grasps the large digits into her tiny fingers. His prints are calloused, rough against her skin like sandpaper. He pulls her closer, presses her hand to his lips, and licks. He has a cat’s tongue, the papillae sharp and spiny, prickling her skin.

The girl smirks, he may be the cat, but it is she who has the cream. “Oh my Grandma, what big ears you have!”

“All the better to hear you with, my dear.”

He listens to her heartbeat slow. Watches with dark eyes, pupils squeezed into slits, as she drops her skirt, and lifts one arm to undo the veil that covered her hair. Her hair falls naked, drops to her bare chest and hangs around her mother’s wedding cloak, the only clothing she has remaining.

She does not comment on the smell of burning, of the reek of scorched meat. She is not the trodden women of the village, with their heads wrapped in silk, hidden from men and from the world. Now she sits upon the lap of the wolf, who stares at her with pupils blown wide, ears open and perked. What little humanity he has, he is giving it to her freely.

Her final question becomes a request, spoken with understanding. “My oh my Grandma, what big teeth you have!”

And so he bares them, and she laughs. Then she stands, and allows him to sweep her from the floor and into his arms, the coarse, dark hair growing with each step to the door. Her wedding cloak becomes a waving flag in the wind as dawn breaks over the surface of the Forest.

Walpurgis Night comes to an end.

And the Hunter who would arrive later, who did not stop to question the footprints between the wolf’s claw marks. He lays a makeshift cross, and the village mourns. They mourn and then forget, returning to their bedtime stories for the young and naïve.

There be wolves in them woods. And somewhere, amongst the howls beseeching the night, was a woman’s cries of joy entering the chorus.

[yyxy-seph]

Post Insane! Sephiroth X Black girl! Reader

𝒪𝓃𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝓈𝒾𝓁𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓁𝑜𝒸𝓀𝓈 pt.3

Part 2

Part 1

Warning: SUPER fucking cheesy! And I’m a relatively new FFVII fan so some of my wordings might be kind of weird. But if you want more content like this from me, just hit the heart!

Also, I’ve changed some of the events in the storyline. Avalanche hasn’t attacked Shinra just yet! But Sephiroth has already had his insane streak.

Context: Zack & Cloud set Y/N up on a blind date w/ Seph! Here, we will discover an interesting history between Seph and the reader as well as witness their adorable date!

———

We continued on, running like kids to the closest battle destination. We chuckled while running, letting the wind breeze through our hair. And must I say, he is so gorgeous when the wind blows pushes his hair from his face.

We finally reached a point in the woods near a camping site. For a minute, I caught my breath while he just stood there, unbuttoning his shirt.

“Are..you not tired?”

“Not at all. My vitality is no joke.” By the end of his sentence, he was shirtless.

My eyes couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Is this a fucking ten pack?? He was unbelievably ripped.

“You’re not about to go all sexy beast on me, are you?”

He frowned. “No, no, no. Hey I’m a modest man. I would never do this on the first date to a beautiful, deserving woman like you.”

He lifted his suspenders over his shoulders and pulled over his coat with their astonishing, silver pauldrons.

I smirked. “In that case..”

I unbuttoned my dress, teasing him. The man who is always comfortable with a straight, unchanged face began blushing, nervously.

Next, I started sliding it down my slim and fit figure.

He turned around immediately, being respectful.

“No need, honey.”

He turned around again slowly.

Under the black & silver dress were my fighting clothes. My leather shorts were exposed while I slid on my black gloves.

The transformation made him speechless.

“I-I... ah”

“Sephiroth??”

“Your outfit is different from the last time we spoke.”

“Yeah, a girls gotta grow up right?”

“But, an outfit this sexy?”

“And just as affective!”

“Marry me now.”

“Now, hold your Chocobos, Simperoth! Like you said to me that night, “If we were to have a relationship, I need to have a good fighter and a good kisser. If you fail at one thing, you must perfect the other. Otherwise, we never know what could be.”

He made a determined smile with challenged eyes.

“You better prove yourself, right here, right now.”

He got into position, and so did I. The time was now for him to really earn my heart.

He ran swiftly toward me, clashing his sword against mine. I blocked it instantly and ducked, as I saw his next swing coming right before me. I kicked him off his feet and got right back up and over him, aiming my masamune over his face.

I retrieved it back to my shoulder and helped him get up.

“Hmm, I see you’ve gotten much better.” He said.

“Yup. Round two?”

“That wasn’t even a round.”

“Technically, it was.”

We went at it again. I ran his way while he came toward me. I hit his sword in and undercut motion, making him have more force on top. Trying to get from under his grip, I leaned to the right.

His blade almost caught my feet but I jumped up in time, and slid mine under his chin.

“You’re good. Very, very good.” He informed. His eyes had narrowed, indicating a bit of arousal.

“Are you... turned on?” I asked, giggly.

“Quite likely.”

We continued once more. He extended his blade to the ground to catch me off guard. Instead, I ran on his thin blade and jumped over his head, landing perfectly to aim at his back.

With quick movements, he turned around and pressed his masamune over mine again. The pressure was quite strong as his was longer than mine.

I fell to my knees with a little pout of failure.

He extended his hand in front of me. I grabbed his and he kissed mine.

“Round 3?”

“Yeah, yeah.” I rolled my eyes.

It started with me lunging at him. He blocked it by pushing me away with his blade. I ran back and clashed my sword with his at different angles. This went on for a while until I jumped high, hitting his blade with an over head attack.

He hit mine back at a lower angle, pushing my blade up too high for me to reach. It eventually slipped out of my hands and fell tip forward into the soft grass and dirt. Panicking, I ran to retrieve it while he ran after me.

I wanted him to win but I also wanted to prove myself.

I gripped the sword quickly and securely with Sephiroth not too far behind. Our swords clashed some more. The battle was getting more intense. Suddenly, he lifted his foot and did a roundhouse kick. I ducked, eyeing his every move. While getting back up, I met his shiny masamune in my face while my purple one also clashed with his perfectly.

It was one of those moments where both of our forces were strong so our swords stayed in place as we held cocky, love driven stares.

In no time, I was unexpectedly being lifted off the ground and up in the air. He was flying with his wing, tightly holding my waist.

“S-seph, you’re cheating.”

He just ignored me, while still flying until he reached a spot in the clouds that he felt was perfect.

“It’s not cheating if I already have your heart.”

“That’s-“

I got cut off by the feeling of his tender lips, melting into mine and fitting perfectly. He tightened both arms around my waist, making sure I wasn’t scared and ensuring comfort.

He tucked my hair behind my ear and bit my lip, asking for tongue access. I agreed and we were making out just like that night seven years ago. Except this time, there is more passion and desire. More hunger to be together. I felt the connection.

Our lips parted at once. We were still in the sunset with clouds surrounding.

We stared in each other’s eyes, lost in our minds. Until I finally spoke.

“Wow...”

He instantly laid his head on my shoulder, hugging me tighter. I could feel all his pain from the past few years up to this moment.

He lifted his head up and then started kissing my neck. Then that led to sucking and biting. I couldn’t keep my mouth shut from his actions. It all felt too good. I was moaning like crazy.

He finally ceased.

And I was honestly amazed at his work.

“You really are the full package.” I stroked his ego.

He chuckled and smirked. “For the record, back then, you were a really good kisser. I just had to get my kissing together.”

I blushed at his words. “Well, you certainly did. I wanted more.”

“I heard. Can’t wait to hear how you sound when you’re under me-“

“Seph!” I giggled shyly as he flew us back down.

“But that’s for another day. I just wanna take my time with you and treat you right.”

“I love you.” I said right out.

“I love you more. Gaia, you don’t know hold long I’ve been wanting to say that!” He stressed.

He took me on home, as this was the final destination wrapping up our date.

“I had a lot of fun with you, tonight. I’m glad we did this.” I told him.

He nodded. “Me too. What should our next date be?”

We strolled through the small crowd of people in the SOLDIER dorm territory.

I could hear in the background that some people were freaking out and gossiping because it was Sephiroth. But I guess they figured not to interrupt since he was being normal and minding his business.

Until one guy interrupted...

“Hey! Sephiroth! You’re not supposed to be out here if you’re not a SOLDIER! Why don’t you just leave and go be an evil bastard somewhere else!”

I stood there, waiting for something to pop off immediately afterward. Thus, Seph just stood there, brushing it off. His only reply was, “You see me minding my business, so mind your damn own.”

The man was taken aback. With one more threatening glare from him, the man ran off.

“I suppose you keep training. Your combat is shit from what I remember!” He yelled jokingly.

We laughed up until we reached my dorm with Zack. Cloud hung out here sometimes even though he’s an ex- SOLDIER.

With three knocks from me, blond, spiky streaks of hair fell above me.

“Hey, Cloud!”

“Hey, how was your date?” He questioned, glaring at Sephiroth a bit.

“It was divine! I loved every second.” I explained while Seph tightened his grip around my waist.

“And you?” Cloud asked again, hinting a Sephiroth’s quietness.

“I loved it just as much, if not more. She has charms and a personality that I can’t resist.”

I turned around hugging him fully before going inside. He said goodnight to us all after small-talk with Cloud.

The night ended quite pleasantly. I didn’t expect this but I’m so not mad at it. I can’t wait to be enveloped in his warmth as each day goes by.

Once I settled in, Zack couldn’t stop asking questions. He wanted to know everything we did and said. Cloud wanted to know as well even though he pretended he didn’t care.

After all of that, we watched movies and headed for Midgar in the morning. The next day, I’d be an ex-SOLDIER and Sephiroth’s woman.

“Umm...Y/N??”

“What?”

“Is that a hickey???”

“Maybe???” I smirked.

Oops.

[ofcastora]

@lavolumnia replied to your post: i wanna read more from this AU

In which I continue the DiVerona Regency AU // Part 2 of me transforming Castora and Vivianne’s baking class into a Regency women’s archery club, inspired by this historical club and these outfits ft. Bridgerton-level historical accuracy. Also in which Castora becomes deeply invested in her mother-figure’s happiness and bears witness to a bodice ripper romance, but does not care for it at all. 

MENTIONED/APPEAR: Vivianne Sloane // @lavolumnia, Everett Craven // @evcravens, Priam Taravella // @priam-taravella, Cosimo Capulet (NPC), Silviana (NPC), the du Pont family, the Daly family

It was a truth universally acknowledged by all who had the misfortune of taking a stroll in Hyde Park in the morning hours in the month leading up to the Hyde Park Amazon’s Liston Hall showcase and ball that Lady Vivianne Sloane and Miss Castora Aguilar were very awful at archery. Nothing, sans for hanging at the Old Bailey for accidental homicide, would prevent them in their endeavors, however. 

Both ladies were quite indomitable and all members of the ton who sought a stroll and all squirrels seeking whatever squirrels sought quickly learned it was best to steer clear of them all together. On the bright side, while they made poor exhibition archers, perhaps in another life they would have made fine huntresses; neither of them had gotten anywhere near a bullseye, but they have gotten significantly closer to skewering a squirrel.

“It appears, Lady Vivianne, that we are actually getting worse.” 

“Nonsense.” Such a thing cannot be possible was the unspoken truth. 

Castora loosed another arrow. It did not land on the target, soaring high overhead and landing squarely in the tree behind it. “Perhaps you are, but I think my form is improving.” 

It was Vivianne’s turn to try; the arrow skimmed past the edge of the target, nestling itself in the dirt by the unfortunate tree that caught Castora’s arrow. 

“I can see that.” 

If the pair still had any arrows in the quiver, Castora was quite certain that Vivianne would have stabbed her with one. She gently placed her bow on the ground, fighting the impulse to break in two. It looked like Vivianne had the same thought as her. “Shall we?” she asked

This was, perhaps, the most depressing part of their practice sessions – collecting the evidence of their failures. 

“I suppose we have no choice –– unless you could hire a lady’s maid for this purpose?” 

“A lady’s maid for the sole purpose of fetching our arrows?” 

“I dare say she would have her work cut out for her.”

Castora pulled a stubborn arrow from the dirt, ignoring how it stained the hem of her dress. She took a look at their de facto practice field, something akin to distress on her face. “At least we did not lose any arrows in the Serpentine today,” she muttered. “Do you think it is too late to ‘come down with something’?” 

“Mrs. Silviana will have your head.” 

“Good. She can take it. She’s so often taken leave of her senses, maybe she’ll find use for my head,” Castora remarked. 

Vivianne raised an eyebrow, “You are quite bold to assume she has the sense to take advantage of such an opportunity.” 

They had reached the tree where Castora’s last arrow had lodged itself. Oh, damn it, she thought, seeing that it had landed about a foot taller than Castora herself. She jumped, trying to grab hold of it, but could not reach. 

Vivianne, who Castora was quite certain could reach it, stood by watching the younger woman take out all her energy on an arrow, the corners of her lips threatening to curve into a smile. 

A few more attempts occurred, each more feeble than the last. Castora leaned against the tree to catch her breath. “I simply have no wish to embarrass myself in front of the ton, Lady Vivianne – yes, I am keenly aware of the irony.”

"Surely you cannot be afraid of them?” Vivianne asked. Castora wished she could read her expressions better – was the woman surprised by this? Disappointed? 

“I am aware of the reality of my circumstances,” she said grimly. “And I feel like I have exhausted my quiver of accidents for this season.” Castora was a wit, a court jester the ton tolerated despite her father conning half of their father’s out of a not-insignificant sum of money because of powerful friends, a beautiful cousin they would all like to wed (or bed), and because someone had to provide some amusement, but their tolerance was ever-wavering tightrope. She could walk it, but she would always teeter. 

The fall was inevitable. 

Vivianne looked seriously at Castora, then smirked. “Yes, that game of Pall-Mall was certainly something.”

Castora’s cheeks burned. “It was an accident and Priam Taravella knows it.”

“If your aim with a bow and arrow is any indication of your aim in general, I believe you.” It was not. They both knew that – and Castora had surmised that Vivianne realized that she had been aiming for her future-stepson-in-law’s head, but that was to be expected when the beast knocked her own ball out of the way on purpose. “If it is any consolation, Miss Castora, I promise that I will be there with you to suffer Silviana and that exhibition together.” 

“Thank you.” She understood the hidden meaning – no one would insult her at the Exhibition with a future duchess by her side. 

Vivianne stepped forward, easily reaching the arrow. 

Snap. In her efforts, the arrow had split – the tip and a quarter of the shaft remained lodged in a tree. Vivianne glowered at the remnants of the arrow in her hand. 

“If I have to look at another arrow today, I think I might die.” 

“I quite agree, Miss Castora.” She was quiet for a long moment.  Then, she asked, “How about tea?”

--

A maid poured their tea and quietly left. Castora looked around at Vivianne’s apartments in wonder – surely, this was the most beautiful place she had ever been in. If I ever have the funds to decorate my own lodgings, I should like to make it look like this, Castora thought. 

“Who do you picture when you fire an arrow?” she asked. Vivianne sipped her tea, thinking over the question carefully. 

“Silviana,” she answered. “And a few others, but lately mostly Silviana. And yourself?”

“Silviana, too.” It wasn’t a lie, but it was not the whole truth. “I take turns picturing all the people who have made me cross.”

“And somehow you rarely hit your target.”

“Perhaps I would have more luck if the person I wished to strike was in the vicinity. There is only so much the imagination can do.”

A lull fell over the conversation. “I suppose you must quit this place when you and the Duke marry.” An odd expression crossed over her face at the word marry.

“Nonsense – this is mine.”

“Yours? How?”

“My late father bequeathed to his cousin, Philip Allard, in his will -–”

“–– The Duke of Beaufort?” 

“Yes. His only daughter, Lady Daphne, is married.” Castora detected a hint of a grimace in Vivianne’s voice. “Since the family hates London, he saw no use for the property, so he gave it to me.” 

Ah. This was as close to Vivianne’s as it could be, and yet it did not truly belong to her. It was charity. It was alms for a less fortunate relative. Castora understood. At least Vivianne owned something, bittersweet though it may be. 

“My distant cousin who inherited Uppercross after my Andrés’s passing pays for my lodgings in London for the Season.”

“Do you reside at Uppercross the rest of the year?”

“No,” Castora scoffed. Uppercross wasn’t the home she had as a child, the one she lost twice over. It did not belong to her anymore. It never did. “I usually take invitations from friends in the countryside. I toured the Lakes with Lady Pandora the last year.” 

“Your mother does not miss you?” It did not surprise her that Vivianne knew that her father was gone, but did not know what happened to her mother. No one really cared what befell Isabella Aguilar in the wake of her husband’s scandal. 

“My mother is dead,” Castora replied flatly.

“Mine is too.”

“I suppose that makes us both orphans.”

“It’s quite an ugly word, do you not agree?” Vivianne sipped her tea. “It comes from the Greek word orphanos, which means ‘bereaved.’”

“Orphanos.” Castora tested the word on her tongue. “You are right. It’s ugly. What is the best way to shed the label, orphan, do you think?” 

“Why, marriage, of course.”

Castora hesitated before asking, “Is that why you are marrying Duke Capulet?” It was odd, their match – after all, before all this Vivianne Sloane had been a spinster. 

Another one of Vivianne’s inscrutable expressions crossed her face. “No. Not the whole of it.”

“Is it a love match, then?”

“What constitutes a love match in your opinion?”

“The fool’s errand known as love, of course,” Castora replied. “But I suppose it can be a love match if you love his house, his title – I would hardly begrudge anyone a desire to become a duchess – although I would characterize that as a love arrangement, not a love match.” 

“I did not take you for a romantic – is that why you are still unmarried? Holding out for love, Miss Castora?” Such blunt questioning from anyone else would have offended her, but from Vivianne, Castora did not mind. 

“I do not wish to marry.” Only the greatest love could persuade me...or an offer from a Duke, a Marquess, an Earl, or a Viscount. Barons and men with gambling debts need not apply. Both options struck her as improbable, if not outright impossible. “It seems to me that every marriage I’ve witnessed has only brought misery...particularly for the women in the match.” Sure, her Uncle Aguilar’s marriage was quite happy by all accounts – surely, it helped that Ramona’s mother died young before the marriage had time to sour. 

Vivianne seemed curious. “What do you intend to do then?”

“My cousin, Ramona, is adored by the ton. She shall marry well.”

“And what if you received an offer from someone suitable?” 

“I would...consider it, as long as he is not a drunkard or a gambler. Actually, I believe I could deal with a drunkard. No gamblers,” she said. “Anything is better than ending up as a....governess.”

“I could not picture you spending your days tutoring children.” 

“My mother was one, actually, before she married. She worked for a good family, too. One that Vivianne was likely acquainted with. That was the other thing about Isabella Aguilar – she was intelligent. She was unfortunate, but bright. Love robbed her off her senses and killed her in the poorhouse. “She was unable to get back into the line of work with a child, however.” 

“Children complicate matters,” Vivianne said solemnly. The rumors of Vivianne Sloane’s first Season being delayed by a year floated back to the top of Castora’s head; there were whispers of a bastard child, but Castora had know interest in Vivianne’s secrets unless she chose to share them with her. 

“We do,” Castora said. “Lady Vivianne – I hope this goes without saying, but could you –– could you not repeat that my mother was a governess?” 

She nodded. “You have my word. Drink your tea, Castora. Before it gets cold.”

--

Liston Hall was a lovely country estate of middling size; it was pretty, spacious, and very green, everything a country estate ought to be, but it paled in comparison to the surrounding homes such as Campden Court. The true glory of Liston Hall was its apple orchard, where the archery exhibition would be held. 

Castora had not been to Gloucestershire since she was a child, accompanying her mother and forced to bear witness to her demise. During her year here, she had never been to Linton. The families of the other Gloucestershire estates – the Craven’s of Campden Court, the Daly’s of Aubrey Park, and the du Pont’s of Kellnych Hall – were not the type to deign to visit Linton Hall.

At least, that’s how Castora remembered them. She prayed that some things never changed. 

Whether or not the neighboring aristocrats visited seemed irrespective today – more than half the ton was here, but no one in the ton that Castora actually liked –-- except for Vivianne.

Who she could not find. 

Good God – she had one friend, or one person who was close to a friend, here and she could not find her. There was only so much small talk a girl coud do with a glass of lemonade, as anything stronger would not be served until dinner.

Leaving the hall to look for Vivianne, Castora collided into the chest of a gentleman, almost spilling her lemonade all over him.  Well, perhaps there was a splash or too on his shoes....and slight more than a splash on his white cravat. Said gentlemen did not seem angry so much as annoyed, however. Still, Castora wished she could melt into the floor.

“I apologize, sir, I am sorry,” she started, her cheeks aflame. 

“It is quite alright.” Oh no, this was worse – he was trying hard to be genteel about this. Something about his voice – and face, and countenance – looked familiar, but she could not place him. 

“Let me fetch a servant, perhaps they can....wash it?” 

He looked at her curiously, as though he was trying to place her, too. “I live at Campden Court – I shall send for a change of clothes direct.” 

Realization hit Castora like a ton of bricks. “You are Everett Craven, Marquess of Montrose.” She dropped into a courtesy and cursed every God for not answering her prayers. “I apologize again, my Lord.” 

He had come into the title several years ago with the death of his father and was one of the most desired bachelor’s in England –– and one of the most skilled at fending off ambitious mamas. He was almost more desired because he was, by all accounts, a proper gentleman who left rakish activities to the rest of his peers; it truly was a miracle he left London alive and unmarried.

She had heard more fearsome stories about him, however. The Season before her and Ramona’s debut, he accompanied Catherine Daly to London, as Lord Daly was unwell at the time, and practically bit off the head of every man who came near her.

“I am. Pardon me – have we met before, my lady?” 

Yes. See, while Isabella Aguilar was unable to find work as a governess, her former employer, the damned du Pont’s of Kellnych Hall, had found employment for Isabella at a lady’s maid to Lady Daly of Aubrey Park. She told them she was a widow, and with Bastian du Pont’s introduction, they accepted a lady’s maid with a child of the right age to be a playmate to their three daughters. 

Melting into the floor suddenly seemed insufficient. Perhaps she could suddenly collapse and die, like a lady in a novel, and be reincarnated as a bee. Yes, that seemed good. 

“No, I do not believe we have had the occasion, my lord.” She shook her head again, “Just Miss. Miss Castora Aguilar of Uppercross.”

“Castora? That is quite an––” 

"–– You can say unusual, my Lord. I cannot take offense since I have ruined your cravat.” At least it didn’t spill on his pants. 

He looked at her again. “Are you sure we have not met before?”

“Perhaps in London?” Castora lied. “London is full of faces and names, it’s hard to keep them all straight. Especially during the Season.”

Just as he was about to say something again, Vivianne rounded the corner. “Miss Castora, there you are ---” Whatever words were on her lips died when she saw the Marquess. It was quite a spectacular (and quite unsettling thing) to see Vivianne Sloane rendered speechless. 

She looked at the Marquess. He looked like he had seen a ghost. Is it too late to melt into the floor? Castora wondered, thinking about how to best extricate herself from the situation. 

Suddenly the lemonade-stained cravat seemed like the least of everyone’s problems. “Lady Vivianne,” the Marquess greeted. 

“Lord Montrose,” she said, similarly stiff. Neither pair seemed to notice Castora. They only had eyes for one another. God, now would be a lovely time to answer my call for death. 

She took a step backwards in the hopes of sneaking out and leaving them to...whatever was going to happen, but unfortunately, Fate had other plans for them as a person – namely, Duke Capulet – had rounded the corner in search of his wife-to-be. 

Duke Capulet was tall and distinguished with greyed hair; age suited him. He walked like someone who never doubted his importance and was unused to being denied. Castora had a difficult time thinking of him as anyone’s husband, or father, or guardian. 

“Montrose,” he said in greeting, falling back to Vivianne’s side. The man appeared jovial and pleasant, but there was an air of darkness about him – and he appeared to be in quite a fowl mood.

“Capulet,” the Marquess replied. Castora searched Vivianne’s eyes for a single clue as to what was happening. The future Duchess gave no indication that anything odd was going on. 

“What on earth happened to you, Montrose?” the Duke asked, gesturing to his clothes. 

“I was not watching where I was going and collided into the young lady whilst she carried some...water?”

“Lemonade,” Castora quietly corrected.  “The Marquess is too kind. This is my fault.”

“Regardless of whose fault it is, I hope you shall excuse me to get this matter sorted with.”

“Of course. Shall I see you at the exhibition, Montrose?” 

The Marquess nodded, made his courtesies, and left. 

The Duke’s attention fell to her, “And who are you?”

Vivianne answered for her, “Miss Castora of Uppercross, dear. She is in the Hyde Park Amazons with me.” The Marquess of Montrose seemed surprised at the revelation that Vivianne was in an archery club.

“Right, of course. You and Lady Vivianne have been hard at work these past few weeks, I have gathered.” He looked at her. “You are Aguilar’s girl, are you not?”

“His niece,” Castora said quickly, pretending not to know his meaning. “He passed away several years ago.”

The Duke did not stop. “Your father was an interesting character, more than what one would expect from one of Montague’s whelps. I think he tried to swindle me during a game of vingt-et-un.”

“My family is very lucky to consider the Montague’s our friends, my Lord,” she replied diplomatically, keenly aware that she could not afford to offend one of the most powerful men in the country.

“For your sake, Miss Castora, I pray the apple falls far from the tree. My dear, see that you never play cards with her,” he said with a snake oil smile. Castora supposed it was a charming smile, if one could ignore the malice hiding in his words. Still, she laughed at his joke.

And I pray the same for your daughter, you wretched man.

“If you will pardon me, my Lord, I think I am going to replace my lemonade.”

“Let me accompany you, Miss Castora,” Vivianne said. “We have much to discuss before the exhibition.”

They returned to the main hall, arm in arm. Castora squeezed Vivianne’s hand, and the woman squeezed back in silent apology. What reason is there to marry this man? Surely a duchy is not worth it? 

“I apologize for the Duke. He is not himself after travelling.”

There was something odd about resorting to pleasantries with Vivianne – they had so often bypassed them in their conversations in Hyde Park. A cold sensation settled into Castora’s bones.

“No apologies necessary, Lady Vivianne….how do you know the Marquess of Montrose?”

“Hmm?”

“It looked to be like you two knew each other.” 

“A lifetime ago. I did not think he would come.” Castora quietly wondered if Vivianne had been making the same prayers she had made on the journey over.

--

Castora was lined up with the other ladies of the Hyde Park Amazons...in the very back of the group, where no one could see her miss the target. Vivianne was not there. 

“Mrs. Silviana, have you seen Lady Vivianne?”

Silviana startled at Castora’s voice. “Oh, you are here.” 

“Yes, why wouldn’t I be?” She remarked before asking again, “Where is Lady Vivianne?”

Silviana’s eyes narrowed. “She has a headache and she is unable to join us. I am quite surprised, Miss Castora, that you do not have one as well.” 

Damn her, Castora cursed, Damn her for leaving me to fend for myself. Damn her for breaking her promise. 

“Are you alright, Miss Castora?” Silviana asked. 

No. I feel rather foolish, you useless twit, she thought bitterly. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Right, dear. And – do remember to aim, please?” She nodded and glared at Silviana’s retreating figure. Aim. She could do that. 

--

At last came time for the Exhibition. Gentlemen and ladies of the ton and other appropriate social circles gathered around the Hyde Park Amazons at a respectable distance, mostly on the sidelines by the tree. For this exhibit, the ladies were to fire five arrows and hit their targets. The more advanced archers would perform in a play about Artemis and her huntresses later in the day.

Five. You only have to get through five. 

On the first arrow, she thought of Vivianne and aimed. Predictably, she missed – not as poorly as usually, however. On the second arrow, she thought of Vivianne and aimed. She missed again.

On the third, Castora vowed to clear her mind. Do not aim for anything but the target. When the last thought melted away, Castora closed her eyes and fired the arrow. The audience gasped. 

Did I hit a bullseye? She opened her eyes to find that no, she had not hit the target. Her arrow was nowhere near the target. In fact, she could not see it all. Why is everyone staring at me?

The Hyde Park Amazon next to her, sensing Castora’s confusion, helpfully pointed at an apple tree towards the edge of their circle. Pinned to the tree by Castora’s arrow was a gentleman’s hat. One of the lower hanging apples helpfully fell to the ground. 

And not just any gentleman’s hat. No, it was Duke Capulet’s hat. The man was positively glowering at her. 

“Oops.” She swore quietly under her breath using a word she learned from Marcelo that no lady was supposed to know. I almost killed a duke. I almost killed a duke. Fuck, I almost killed a duke.

But she did not feel so bad for Cosimo Capulet after all. It wasn’t like she had stabbed him. It was only a hat, after all. It could be worse, Castora thought to herself. I could have swindled him during a game of vingt-et-un. 

Suffice to say, while the play continued without incident later in the evening, the ladies of the first exhibit did not fire their fourth and fifth arrows. 

--

After profusely apologizing to the Duke several times over, each time more insincere than the last, Castora excused herself from the luncheon with, appropriately, a headache. There

There was a knock at her door. Castora cautiously opened it to find Vivianne, standing in front of her right as rain. “Did you or did you not try to kill the Duke?” 

Castora ignored the question. “How is your headache, Lady Vivianne? I do hope you will be able to attend the ball.”

“Castora – did you try to kill the Duke?”

“No, of course not! Not intentionally at least! The only thing I ended up killing was his hat, and a trip to a good haberdashery could fix it right up!” She insisted.

Vivianne closed the door to Castora’s guest chamber behind her. “You deeply offended him, Castora,” she said seriously. 

“I was aiming for the target. I missed. That is not out of the ordinary for me, Lady Vivianne. Nor is it for you, and if you had shown up, you may have done worse!” 

“Perhaps, but as it stands, you are the one who accidentally attacked a duke. You also accidentally hit his future son-in-law in the face with a pall-mall ball several months ago – an incident of which the Duke is very much aware of. You can see why this...why this is problematic.” 

“It was an accident. I have offered to pay to replace the hat, an offer which the Duke said he is considering.”

“Castora, the Duke has strongly suggested to me that I find another hobby outside of the Amazons.”

Her face fell. But you’re my friend, the girl wanted to protest.  “He is not your husband, yet. He cannot make you do anything...unless you wish to leave.” 

“In some matters of life, what you want does not matter.” 

“Surely it does in this one?” 

Vivianne smiled bitterly, “Dear Castora, I forget how young you are sometimes.” 

With that, she left, closing the door behind her. Castora did not know why, but she had the sudden desire to cry for the first time since her mother’s death. 

--

There is absolutely no way this evening can get worse, Castora thought to herself as she prepared to enter the ballroom for the evening festivities. No chance in hell. 

Still, halfway to the ballroom she turned on her heel and thought best not to risk it. On the way back to her room, Castora decided that she did not want to sit in her room all evening and decided to visit the Liston Hall library. 

Scouring through the library, Castora settled on The Mysteries of Udolpho, a novel she had greedily consumed several years ago because Ramona suggested it. She had not liked it much, as Castora was not one for Gothic romances, but she was in no mood to explore. Take me away, Mrs. Radcliffe, to a world far less complicated than ours.

Settled by her desk, she was halfway through the second chapter when she heard two voices, one belonging to a man and the other to a woman, deep in the throes of an argument. The man dragged the woman into the library.

Castora froze – it was Lady Vivianne and Lord Everett. They did not see her from her position, and so they kept on spitting venom Castora did not comprehend at one another. Wishing to avoid another awkward encounter with the both of them, she simply sunk behind the desk before they could see her and waited for them to leave. 

About ten minutes later, they were still arguing and Castora still had no idea what in the hell was going on because she was trying not to eavesdrop, but sometimes she could not help it. 

But what she did hear was the Marquess of Montrose, voice laced with pain, asking Vivianne why she was marrying him. It did seem to be the question of the day. 

“Someone knows about Cyrus.” There was an eerie silence across the hall; Castora resisted the urge to emerge from her hiding place to ask Who is Cyrus? “They are trying to exhort me for money, but no one would dare come for me, or Cyrus, if I am Lady Capulet.” 

“How much? Who is blackmailing you?” Reasonable questions.  

“It matters not, Everett.” I fail to see how that is true.

“Vivianne, how can you say that?” Castora quietly noted the use of their Christian names, and quietly prayed to God for the upteenth time to day, that they would finish their argument somewhere else. 

“Because what is done is done. I cannot break this engagement.” Fair enough.

“You did not seem to have much of an issue with that before.” Ah, okay. There is that mystery solved.

“Don’t you dare. This is not remotely the same situation. If I do not marry Cosimo, then I will be ruined. Cyrus will be ruined. By association with me, Juliana will be ruined. I cannot have that.” A love arrangement, Castora realized. 

“I loved you,” the Marquess said. To Castora’s ears, it did not sound like his affections were in the past tense. Vivianne did not respond to Everett with words, but with actions. 

Oh no. Oh no. Dear God. From her hiding position under the desk, Castora saw the Marquess’s – clean – cravat flying off. Their….noises grew closer, and she heard someone place the other on the desk, knocking the copy of Udolpho off the table, but too far out of reach from Castora. 

How generous, Castora thought dryly, realizing that there would be no escape for her now. 

Castora covered her ears and cursing God, she laid back, and tried to think of England.

--

Much to Castora’s surprise, Silviana welcomed her back the following Thursday to the Hyde Park Amazons, remarking something along the lines of “At least we know you can hit something now, Mis Castora.” 

To everyone’s greater surprise, and Mrs. Silviana’s palpable disappointment, Vivianne showed up for practice. “I hope you are feeling better, Lady Vivianne. You can go and practice with Miss Castora in the back,” the instructor commanded. 

“I know the place,” the future Duchess replied, unable to keep the hint of bitterness out of her voice, before  walking over to her and Castora’s usual spot. 

Castora could not look her in the eye. She refused to do so, for if she did, she would admit to all she saw and heard. Around 15 minutes went by of excruciating silence, before Lady Vivianne chose to break it. 

“How are you, Miss Castora?” 

“I am well.” I want to die. “How are you, Lady Vivianne? How is Lord Capulet’s hat?” 

“We are both fine,” she responded wryly. “Once the Duke calmed down, he did not object to me continuing on with the Hyde Park Amazon’s...you can look at me, Miss Castora, I will not bite your head off.”

Do not say anything, she commanded herself. Do not –– “Lady Vivianne, I was in the library during the Liston House ball.”

Vivianne, who was preparing to fire an arrow, loosened it without bothering to see where it landed. The blood drained from her face. “I do not know your meaning, Miss Castora.” 

“I wish I did not know my own meaning either.”

She lowered her voice, “How much did you hear?”

Too bloody much. “All of it, unfortunately. I did not intend to. I truly, truly did not intend to. I decided against going to the ball, and was trying to read when you and the Marquess entered. I thought it best to hide until you two were finished ––” Everything seemed like a poor choice of words, but Castora persisted. “–– And I did not intend to hear….so much.” 

Vivianne was silent for a long time. The girl in front of her was so distressed that she could not help but believe her, and then, “The Mysteries of Udolpho, really, Miss Castora?”

“I am not proud of it either. Listen, Lady Vivianne, I want to assure you that I...I will say nothing of...of, well, anything, to nobody. I do not know, or care, who Cyrus is. Or that you were once engaged to the Marquess, or that you two appear to still love each other very much.” 

“I appreciate your discretion, Miss Castora, but I must correct you on the last point. Whatever we had was in the past.”

“From where I stood, what was past seemed present.” 

“I would prefer if you did not discuss myself and the Marquess anymore.” 

“As you wish, Lady Vivianne –– however, there is one point, I do have an inquiry on. Who is blackmailing you and is there any way I can help?”

“No, dear girl, there is not.” 

The pair were quiet for a long moment. “I think you would be a better Marchioness than a Duchess. Marchioness Vivianne sounds better than Duchess Vivianne, does it not?”

“That is your opinion.”

“And what is yours?”

“Miss Castora, I thought we agreed not to speak about the Marquess anymore.”

“Yes, but in all honesty, I like him more than the Duke and I think you do, too. He is titled, wealthy, and is capable of weathering scandals. The Craven family is powerful. No one would dare come for a Marchioness of Montrose, either. If Duke Capulet was ever unwise enough to gamble with my father, I do not know how wise he will be in the future. And Juliana Capulet is set to be married in a month to a powerful, wealthy man. She could weather her father’s broken engagement if done with grace.”

“There are more forces at play here than you understand, Castora.” 

“Yes, but I understand enough to know that you do not deserve the misery that is to come with a life chained to Lord Capulet.” Yes, but after everything I was forced to witness in that library, this the least you could do for me. 

“And you are convinced the Marquess is a good man from the five minutes you saw of him?” 

“He is always kind to those lower than himself.” 

Vivianne laughed, “You are a romantic, after all.”

“No, I simply believe that the only reasons to marry are for great, true, unshakeable love, or comfort and protection. The Marquess appears ready to provide you with both,” Castora said.

“I did not realize you cared so much.”

I saw my mother collapse in on herself from misery; I will not see it happen again. “I--I like my friends to be happy, Lady Vivianne.” 

“Happiness requires miracles. You and I both know too well to believe in them.”

Castora could not argue with Vivianne on that point.

Mrs. Silviana screamed and ran up to the region her two least favorite students were exiled to. “Oh my God, you did it! Which one of you did this?” 

The pair followed her gaze to the target where the last arrow Lady Vivianne fired had landed in the center of the target. A bullseye. 

For a moment, Vivianne Sloane and Castora Aguilar both believed in miracles. 

[theleftoversworld]

The Lord is My Shepard

There can’t be more than two hundred people in this dirt pile that they call a town. Why am I here? Why do I do this? Is it not God’s will that they die for their sins? The rapture has come. They were not taken by the Lord’s hand, so their punishment must be here, on earth. But you have called me here Lord... you must have your reasons. Casandra thinks as she rides her motorbike up to the lone business that looks like it’s operational. The same in all of these filthy towns. The church is derelict, and the tavern is thriving. Filthy Godless people. She’s been in these towns enough to know that in boondocks like this there is always a board with jobs listed on it. That’s why she’s here. The church sent her on a pilgrimage around rural Illinois to help the people and find out what God’s plan is for her. The other reason she’s here is that taverns like this always have passable whiskey, which is required before attempting to deal with these people. She runs a hand through her long knotted brown hair to try to get the bugs and leaves out of it. After a moment’s pause she pulls her rosary from inside her leather jacket. This should have some sway to help her get information and stop the drooling men from trying to make a pass. She takes one last breath of clean fresh air before heading inside. It smells like every other tavern in this cursed land. Urine, body odor, and desperation. There’s half a dozen men at the bar already. They look like they spent their day out in the sun digging dirt. They have nothing here. No crops can grow here after the rapture, the earth doesn’t want to support them anymore. Why don’t they leave these barren lands and find someplace where they can actually survive instead of scraping by? A sunburnt man in overalls who stands behind the bar gives her a once over. “Ya?” He says in an accusing tone as though she’s forcing him to be there. “Whiskey.” She grunts, trying to match his tone. She’s learned that gruff works better than nice, and she’s never been good at being cordial. In one motion she sits down and puts enough money on the table for three shots. “Two shots and the extra is to leave me alone.” The man behind the bar seems to appreciate this. He pours two shots and then turns his back on her. She downs the first shot and winces. No chaser, the pain gives her focus, lets her see things she normally wouldn’t. The man at the other end of the bar has a dirt covered lipstick mark on his neck. Probably having an affair with another dirt person. The child at that round table keeps shifting in her seat. She has to pee and her parents haven’t noticed. The family in the back of the bar nearest the rear door, a mother and two kids. The mother has blood on her pants near her ankle. She’s resting it on her other foot so it doesn’t accidentally get any weight put on it. Something bit her. From the mess on her clothes she’s been working with animals. Where’s her husband? Dead? Or did he just leave? Cassandra takes a long breath. Nothing in here is immediately threatening. She can take a bit of time to think. She rests back on her barstool. I was a devout child. I went to catholic school, attended church twice a week. Every extra curricular thing I could do with the church I did. So why was I left behind in the Rapture? Why did God not take me to live with him? Why am I still here on this diseased planet? She frowns. This line of thought never gets her anywhere but into a fight. As if on cue a young man sits down next to her. Really he’s more of a boy than a man. If I ignore him, maybe he won’t say anything. I need work, the last thing I need is to break this kid’s teeth. She thinks and reaches for her second shot. “Hey, you’re pretty good looking for a church girl.” The man says and reaches out to stop her from grabbing the shot. “If you touch me I will circumcise you with my sword.” She growls. “I can’t promise it will be clean.” He quickly retracts his hand. “Meant no harm. We just never get visitors. Especially ones that look as good as you.” She throws the shot back. “Ever think you’re the

reason?” She slams the glass down and gets up to leave. She can feel everyone’s eyes on her now but she doesn’t care. They don’t deserve to be saved. I bet they don’t even go to church on Sunday. She thinks as she makes for the exit. Once she’s outside she spies the jobs board. It looks like someone’s been through here already. “Damn the hunters.” She grumbles as she walks to it. “They took almost everything... Let’s see what they left for me. The storekeeper’s wife is missing. I would bet money she’s above that bar working. I could smell the sin from outside. Aaaand sheep have been attacked at night on the edge of town.” She sighs. “One sucks far less than the other.” She rips the sheep job off the board and heads to the south end of town.

The town is so small she could have walked to the farm but she needs what’s on her bike. At the edge of town she finds a house with around twenty sheep in a hastily constructed small pen. A gate on one end of the pen tells her that they used to free range outside of town, but not anymore. Poor buggers. The animals have it the worst. They don’t understand that they are being punished along with the sinners.

After speaking to the owner of the house she goes back to her bike to set up. It’s the woman from the bar. She informs Cassandra that the attacks come at night so she might as well set up a camp and wait. When pressed for what happened to her ankle she says she stepped into a trap meant for the zombies. Cassandra nods, she seems a bit clumsy and careless. After a few more questions she heads back to her bike.

The church sent her out with rations, MRE’s that they got from what was left of the US military. This one is potato chowder and she hates to admit it, but it wasn’t half bad. Probably better than whatever she would have gotten at that tavern. Damn, the tavern. Another few shots would sure help the time pass. She hears a familiar voice calling from the house. It’s one of the boys. He must have dropped his dinner. She thinks and tries to ignore him. But then something he says catches her ear. “Please! She’s frothing like a rabid dog!” He shouts. She’s on her feet in an instant and running. She pulls out her sword as she runs as well as a small silver dagger she keeps in a belt pouch. “Sounds like a werewolf transformation! Where is she?” She asks as she makes it to the door. “On the kitchen floor! This way!” The boy shouts and leads her to the room. As soon as she enters the room though she knows that it’s not werewolves. The boy’s mother is there on the floor, foaming from the mouth like he said. But her eyes are almost bugging out of her head and the most telling part is her leg. The wound, which is now exposed, is septic and the skin around it has turned green. “Damnit! She needs to die now!” Casandra shouts and pulls her sword back but the boy steps in her way.

“No! She’s my mom! Help her! Doesn’t the church help people?” “There is no helping her! She’s been infected with the zombie virus! Now step aside or I will cleave you to get to her!” Cassandra yells angrily. He doesn’t move. “Lord, have mercy on their souls!” She growls but as she starts to bring the sword down. The boy lets out a bone shaking scream that causes her to wince and stop her blade. The boy falls and it becomes quickly obvious. The boy’s mother is chewing on his leg, tearing flesh with her teeth. The boy is looking at her in horror and screaming, both in terror and in pain. Cassandra shakes her head violently to clear it and then chops the boy’s head off in one swift motion. “Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them.” She entones as she then goes to cut off the mothers head. “May their souls and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.” Once she’s done she looks at them in some disgust and takes stock of everything. “I guess I know what attacked the sheep then. I need some holy water to perform the ritual to make sure you two stay dead. And to find the other child, maybe they can be saved. Though I doubt it.” She turns to go to her bike but she stops in her tracks. One of the problems with zombies is that they don’t moan like they did in the movies. They are surprisingly quiet and can sneak up on you if you aren’t paying attention. There are fifteen of them in the house, between her and the front door. She glances at the window and sees more of them outside watching her. “No way out.” One of the zombies says. “If you give up, we will make it quick.” “Give up? Give up!?!” She says, getting angry. She raises her sword and changes into the zombies in the hallway. I believe in God! The Father Almighty! Creator of Heaven and earth!

and in Jesus Christ! His only Son Our Lord!” She shouts as she cleaves through the first two zombies. “Who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate! Was crucified, died, and was buried!” Two more zombies fall at her feet, their evil purged from this world by her divine blade.

Although she is covered in their putrid blood, she doesn’t falter. This is her life, she was put on earth to slay evil. “He descended into Hell; the third day He rose again from the dead!” Five try to rush her at once but she steps back and makes a wide swing. She cuts off four arms and then raises her sword hand, clenched fist facing the zombies. “He ascended into Heaven, and sitteth at the right hand of God, the Father almighty; from thence He shall come to judge the living and the dead!” A stream of fire comes from her hand like a hose. She sweeps it over the zombies that remain between her and the door. “I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy Catholic Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body and life everlasting!” She finishes the prayer and then barrels through the now burning zombies. They don’t feel pain, so fire is a double edged sword. They don’t recoil from it, so it makes them a danger if they touch you. But they are also fragile to begin with, so fire makes them like glass. She plows through them and runs out the front door. By the light of the burning house she fights zombies, slicing through them with ease. Once they are all dead she tosses their bodies into the house to make sure they burn.

By this time townspeople have turned out to see what is going on. They could see the fire and came running but they do not approach her. She ignores them while she’s working. If they wanted to help they could have joined in but they didn’t, telling her what they thought of her work. Once she’s done tossing bodies into the house she walks up to the bartender. “Let it burn. You want to make sure that none of them stand back up.” Then she boards her bike. No pay for this job, the person who put the job on the board was the second person she beheaded. She takes off, heading for the next town. It is not worth staying in a town where you burned down a house. That’s a lesson she learned already. Especially in small towns. They seem to take that personally.

Once the glow of the fire fades behind her she allows herself to relax a little. “Almighty and Loving God, I praise you from my heart, that of your boundless goodness you have preserved me this night past, and have, with the impenetrable shield of your providence, protected me from the power and malice of the devil.” She mutters as she rides off into the darkness. “Do not withdraw Lord, I kindly ask, your protection from me, but mercifully on this day watch over me with the eyes of your mercy. Lead my soul and body according to the rule of your will, and fill my heart with your Holy Spirit, that I may pass this day, and all the rest of my days, to your glory. Amen.”

Taglist: : @hellishhin @thelaughingstag

[unlockthelore]

Restless Nightly Pursuits

Idly restless through the night, sleep is impossible to find when answers are roaming the palace halls. From the series Affections Touching Across Time on Ao3, and part of the Talking To The Moon fic. For more updates, follow the affections touching across time tag on this blog. For more of this fic, follow the talking to the moon tag.

How could I have not known?

The question was at the forefront of Sesshomaru’s mind as he stormed through the halls, attempting to put as much distance as possible between himself and the study. He could feel Rin’s presence at his back. Hear wood rattling in its frame as the door slid open and her scent — gods, her scent. She always smelt of blossoms and woodlands, ink and paper, the ocean and all its arcane wonders, but beneath it was what he’d been ignorant of.

A child.

Children, if his mother were to be believed.

Girls.

Twins.

And his wife knew, but she deemed him unfit of such knowledge. For how long?

His skin crawled, claws brushing against the palm of his hand as his fingers curled into fists beneath the drape of his sleeves. Gentle words and tender touches to guide her from her studies to the comforts of the bath he’d drawn for her were mottled in the disgusting bitterness soured on his tongue. Poison burned beneath his claws, and the fissures gathered on his heart widened as pain throbbed with every beat. His fur rippled wildly on his shoulder as he drew in a deep breath, forcing the molten touch of his poison away from his claws in order to slide open one of the doors.

Outside.

Fresh air.

He needed to find release before something untoward came forth. Traitorously, his feet led him further from the open flatlands near the forefront of the castle. Terraced land, dipping into a grassy hillside where at the base rested a thicket of trees meandering around a rocky cliffside — The expanse of the ocean was open to behold past the veritable wall of nature, and it was where Sesshomaru intended as he took to the skies.

Distance.

He needed distance from all which lingered behind him, but he couldn’t go far. His wife, the mother of his children, lingered on the grounds, and he would be loath to abandon her.

Abandon Rin?

As quickly as he took to the skies, he landed on the  thick and sprawling grassland. Bade himself not to think of the water glistening upon curved blades of grass speaking of the earlier rainfall. How his wife would have buried her toes in the soil and called for him to do the same.

If she is with child, would she not grow ill if —

Sesshomaru clenched his jaw to stifle the surging growl and marched down the hillside, unperturbed by the incline. If he closed his mind for a moment and pretended the trees surrounding him as he stepped into the thickets were that of the forests he used to roam, then perhaps it would ease him. Thoughts of the castle, of the woman who was waiting for him or perhaps searching for him, set aside.

How could he yearn for her as much as he wanted to be upset with her?

Does she not trust me?

Bright-eyed Rin with her wit and smiles, always at his side, assuring him with soft touches and imploring glances. She coaxed him to calm more than once, showedfaith in him to protect her, and later on, entrusted him with her body and soul . Sesshomaru’s eyes shuttered as he turned his head away from the notion of distrust. His wife was loyal to a fault. Even if her very life were in imminent danger, she would put her faith in him just as she had done time and time again.

So why now?

He tried to breathe in, but the air was thick and humid, refusing to slip down his throat, instead clogging and suffocating. What was this feeling? He hated it. Hated this urge to lash out — to question her on why — to see beyond the smiles that constantly blinded him with their beaming radiance .

Will that change once they’re born, or will I—

Sesshomaru drew in a large breath to steady himself. What would she say then? Did she regret this? What they had done, what they had created together? A burning pain cracked at the fissures in his heart, and he turned his head away, forcing the rippling of his fur to cease.

No. She hadn’t said it, he hadn’t felt discontent in her heart, but she’d been hiding this.

Hiding from him.

Regardless of what anyone may claim, Sesshomaru was not born for the sake of an heir.

And his mother knew. He wanted to scoff. Of course she knew. She always knew what others didn’t and kept the information to herself until it suited her needs to reveal it. But this revelation explained much: whyshe was adamant in helping him with affairs, bidding Rin to rest, or insisting that they spend time together. During all that time, he hadn’t noticed a thing.

I expected to find myself weary of being tethered to this helpless and needy being, eventually finding him to be a burden, and kill him when it suited my needs.

Why?

The tip of his boot caught on a root while the other skidded in the grass, jerking him forward. Silver-white hair veiled half-lidded eyes as he stared listlessly at his own shadow. It wasn’t a secret. He knew inuyōkai weren’t always accommodating or wanting of their offspring. His mother’s affections were peculiar, to say the least, while his father’s were occasional. Did Rin find fault in that? The scandalized way in which she gasped, the indignation in her voice — was it out of concern, or did she doubt what he would desire?

Children. Did she think he would abandon them as his father abandoned him?

No matter how desperately he tried to wrap his mind around it and force her away from thought, she would always return, and he would find himself staring into the memory of her eyes, her smile gone and replaced by a sullen thoughtful expression. Brown irises darkened, pupils dilated and dreadfully saddened —

Sesshomaru.

He twitched upright and jerked his entangled foot forward, ripping forth the sunken roots and flinging dirt into the air. His energy crackled. Teeth elongating, then shortening painfully,he tried to keep himself from transforming as he briskly strode  through the forest until the sky opened up before him and the cliffside was centimeters from the tips of his boots. From the precipice, he could view the foamy darkened depths crashing against the shore, then receding. His breaths were short; shoulders rising, then falling slowly; red tinging the corners of his quivering, swimming vision. Looking up to the sky, the moon was dreadfully familiar.

Mikazuki.

A crescent moon, just like the one he’d been born with.

What would it be like for them? His daughters. Would they have the same moon as his birth, or would they be without it? Perhaps they would have ears as his half-brother did, or take on their mother’s appearance...

He wouldn’t have known.

Ruefully, his lips pulled back into a sneer, blinking slowly to chase away  the stinging heat gathering at the back of his eyes. He wasn’t sure for how long he stood there or when the clouds began to roll across the sky, dimming moonlight washing over him. Left in semi-somnolent darkness, Sesshomaru inhaled , then closed his eyes as the sound of wet grass squelching underfoot accompanied a quiet voice.

“You heard.”

He knew this conversation would come, but he hardly wanted it to ensue.

No, I did.

Knowing would set these bitter feelings aside, yet  he couldn’t bring himself to turn and face her. Out of not wanting to show her this side of him or to feel compelled to forget and draw her into his arms.

Answers.

What he needed were answers.

“Did you intend for it not to reach?” Sesshomaru asked, fighting to keep his voice steady.

Rin was quiet for a moment, but when she spoke, her voice was filled with an assurance and stability he envied. “I had to be certain of what I wished to do,” she said.

Sesshomaru bristled at that. What she wished to do. His mother had made it clear that they created life, yet she kept him ignorant. Complacent. And for what? His jaw clenched painfully, fang pressed to the skin of his lip.

“Then it was needed to deceive, Rin?” He asked, barely able to keep the contempt from his voice. “To keep me ignorant of their existence.”

Do you not trust me, Rin?

“What are you saying?”

Sesshomaru blinked, and despite all of his composure, all of his struggling to not look at her, he glanced over his shoulder. Rin was staring at him, her brown eyes narrowed . True, he’d seen her withering glares, brows furrowed as she began to unleash fury upon someone foolish enough to insult her. But it was never directed toward him. Not until today. Rin glared at him scathingly — disbelief, hurt, and anger deadened in chilled, honey brown eyes.

“This isn’t something I can simply be prepared for, it isn’t an eventuality I expected. I never considered being a mother. We never spoke of having children — “

Sesshomaru scoffed, turning on his heel to face her, feeling the venom on his tongue as he spat. “You never asked.”

Rin recoiled, her face crumpling for a second, then she rose , her shoulders tensed and hands balled into fists. “Because I know you…” She trailed off, the words tense, and bit into him for  as they left her lips, he saw the sheen in her eyes. “You despise hanyō.”

And there it was. The fact that he’d overlooked this entire time. His wife, his beloved wife who would be the mother of his children was human. Half their child’s blood would be hers, and the other would be his own. A voice, whispering from the distant past, told him it would be disgusting. The proud bloodline of his father’s would be sullied by yet another hanyō, and this time, it would be of his own making.

He wasn’t sure what expression he showed, but Rin’s face fell and her eyes widened, shimmering with unshed tears. Sesshomaru tried to force the air to course through his lungs.

“I had no desire to follow the path of a normal girl,” Rin hissed, stamping her foot in the soil. “No man nor woman I cared for long enough to lay with and consider a family until you began to travel with me again.”

Sesshomaru jerked his head away. He didn’t want to hear that. He’d come to terms with the idea that Rin had loved others. It was within her rights. He made her a promise, but gave her the room to search her heart. To explore what it is she wanted from the world that had denied her the right to live . If he’d come back to the village where they parted ways and found her married with child —

“I’m frightened, Sesshomaru.”

Those words wrenched him from his thoughts, and he tugged his head up. Senses heightened as he became acutely aware of the world around them. There were no threats he could cut to ribbons with his claws or melt to nothing with poison. No. The only threat present was Rin looking at him. Her voice rose above the crashing waves against the rocky cliffside.

“I am scared more than you know,” she seethed, and the hurt cracked at her voice just as the threshold blocking the tears she’d been blinking away began to falter. “You have every right to be angry, I won’t deny you that. But I do not want to do this without you.”

But she would. The words unspoken weren’t a threat. No, they were a promise. Rin was independent of him in both mind and body. She would make her own choices as she deemed fit — as she’d always done — as he once bade her to do. Even in this, with the lives that they created, she would take it into her own hands. Sesshomaru stiffened his jaw, stamping down his turmoil at the scent of her tears.

How could you think to do this without my involvement, Rin? I am always —

“I need to know that you are beside me, that you can set aside this silly prejudice.”

His thoughts spilled from her lips, and he recoiled with such ferocity that his heel clipped a deep crevice in the earth.

“Silly?” He uttered in a tense graven tone, shocked and exasperated at being referred to in that manner.

Rin didn’t seem swayed by his tone or otherwise, her arms folded loosely over her chest. Sesshomaru’s gaze flicked to her wrist where the sleeve of her yukata fell back, exposing smooth skin without the cloth bracers she’d don into battle. He didn’t expect for Rin to take arms against him. Never once had she raised a hand to him, albeit she was adept at making her words sharper than her knives.

“And what would you call it?” She demanded fretfully, a wrinkle in her nose as she tipped her head to one side. The uneven fringe of her bangs darkened the shadows around brown eyes, which were almost glowing in the dim light.  “What reason could you have for hating hanyō as you do? You feel they are beneath you? Just as humans are — as I am?”

Before he could think to rein in his tone, Sesshomaru growled. “You are not beneath me.”

How could she say something like that? For a second, the displeased look gave way to one of fleeting affection, and he brieflyyearned for the Rin who smiled at him warmly. Not the incandescent woman who glowered at him a second later, unapologeticallyerasing the kindly expression of his beloved wife.

“I am an exception then?” She shifted her stance to set her hands upon her waist, and he couldn’t help but notice the way her fingers lingered at her abdomen. “Will your daughters also be an exception, Sesshomaru? How will you justify it to them?”

He almost wanted to say that he did not have to. When they were born, he would protect them with all that he had because they were theirs. Part of them was Rin, and he loved her. That they were hanyō was unavoidable. Why was that not enough for her?

“Where does this stem from, Rin?”

He had to know: whatdrove the wedge between them that she could not speak to him as candidly as she did now? He stared at her, and she looked away. It was enough to loosen his tongue, but he bid himself not to say a word. Give her time. Give her a choice. Even if she seemed keen on taking his own away with nary a word.

After a moment of painfully long silence, resignation flickered across her face. “Inuyasha.”

Sesshomaru scoffed at the name and turned his head away, but Rin wouldn’t allow him to evade thr topic . She hardly ever did. Now, as they stood on the precipice with only the sea behind them and their home before them, there was nowhere for either of them to flee .

“He is the root of all of your hate towards hanyō.”

“This has nothing to do with him.”

“Don’t you dare lie to me, Sesshomaru.”

The image of her displeasure in his mind paled considerably in comparison to the dark, terrible expression marring her face. She flung a hand aside sharply, the grass bending upon the breeze as if answering her call.

“You felt scorn toward your brother for your father’s demise — because he fell protecting him and his mother —”

“He was a fool—”

“He was a father protecting his child,” Rin gestured aggressively to her abdomen, curling her fingers in the silken fabric.  “It didn’t matter if Inuyasha’s blood was tainted by humanity, he loved his son. And you hated your brother for so long, enforced this idiotic belief that he was beneath you to wallow in your own pain and justify your actions against him.”

Sesshomaru turned his head away. He didn’t want to hear this. Not from her. Though, when he closed his eyes, he could see Inuyasha and the priestess Kagome as she’d been then. A wide-eyed andterrified teenage girl clinging to his half-brother’s sleeve.

“You used his mother’s image to trick him.”

Inuyasha’s eyes, golden and glazed over, unseeing him but someone else. He couldn’t see past the demoness’ guise. It was according to his plan, a foolish mistake on the hanyō’s part. Sesshomaru suppressed a tick of annoyance at how he referred to his brother then. Inferior, lacking, sentimental.

What he saw was the face of his dearly departed mother. The woman who caused their father’s demise all so that he could live. And what a wretch he’d grown to be.

He isn’t any longer.

Why the Mu-on’na protected him, Sesshomaru couldn’t understand at the time , but the pain in Inuyasha’s eyes when their gazes met — he felt satisfaction.

Now, it was a acrid memory of his failures in the pursuit of what would have never been his. Slowly, he met Rin’s eyes . Her shoulders undulated heavily, and the smell of tears had only grown stronger. Pain. She was in pain.

I am the cause.

No, this started with her deceit. Hadn’t it?

“Are you my judge then?” Sesshomaru questioned in a low tone, almost lost to the night with how airy and light his voice had become. “Is this your punishment — to withhold this from me? Shame me?”

He could see them before, but  now as the clouds rolled past, moonlight spilled into their small pocket of the world and glistened on streaks of silver tracking down her cheeks. She shook her head slowly, the corners of her lips twitched upward, but there was no mirth to be found. Her eyes were wet, lashes heavy and fluttering shut as she closed her eyes.

“This is my evidence. My evidence of what I need from you…”

His fingers twitched at his side. The urge to reach out and wipe away her tears stilled by her own hand raising to do the deed itself.

“Set aside your prejudice, learn from your mistakes, and be better for it…” Her shaky breaths were beginning to even, and when her hand pulled away, the disheartened woefulness in her eyes was replaced with a fierce assertion. “Because you were wrong.”

The tight grip on her yukata eased. Silk smoothed out with gentle brushes. His gaze transfixed on each sweep of her fingers as if he could see past the tranquil veneer she’d set.

“Because if you raised a hand to these children as you did your own brother, I—”

Sesshomaru’s eyes widened, and Rin’s face fell. Their eyes met, and not a word had to be said. He could feel the intent behind her pause . Her calm mask had cracked, replaced with a horrific and fearful  expression. His own facade schooled into neutrality despite the sudden upset at the implication.

“Would you threaten harm to me…” His voice trailed off as he watched her shift from one foot to the other, her gaze falling to her feet. Disbelief crept into his voice as he called out to her. “Rin?”

Her eyes closed. “To protect our daughters?” She started resolutely, a fatigue and sadness engulfing her face as she met his eyes. Her brown almost deepened to a murky black.

“Without question.”

Sesshomaru straightened and this time, when he turned away from her, he didn’t look back. Rin’s footsteps were deafening. Each one guided her further from him to the thicket of trees and beyond to the palace.

Standing alone on the edge, Sesshomaru looked to the crescent moon in the sky.

[patrickstargang]

To Heal (Shadow of Kyoshi fic)

Chapter 1: The Other Side of Peace

Chapter 2: Master and Student

Chapter 3: A Cause for Celebration

Chapter 4: Taking Off The Mask

Chapter 5: Call to Action

Epilogue

*Disclaimer: this entire fic is a massive spoiler for Shadow of Kyoshi so if you haven’t read it I would recommend doing so before reading this

The great rain that had poured over the Fire Nation’s crops seemed to have traveled all the way to Yokoya. Luckily the strength of the storm had died down since then, as it could have brought caution for flooding the town’s harbor. The patter of water droplets against the wooden boards of the Avatar estate was a calming ambiance, a perfect sound to continue sleeping if it hadn’t leaked through the ceiling. One leak, in particular, was right above Rangi, becoming a nuisance as she slowly woke up.

Her eyes squinted, rubbing them to clear her vision. Once she came to her senses, she noticed something was off. A different air to the room. She glanced at the other side of the bed to find Kyoshi wasn’t there. The lack of an impression on the cushion signaled that she had been up for a while. At the same time, while Rangi noticed the change in the room, it wasn’t an unusual occurrence either. Kyoshi had been up earlier than practically everyone since they agreed to reside in the estate. But she also noticed that Kyoshi would stay up later than everyone else, a new concern added on for Rangi to worry about. She sighed deeply, hoping today would have been a change of pace.

Rangi stood up firmly from the bed. She didn’t require her walking cane anymore, as the progress on her health was faster than anyone would have expected considering how serious the injury was. She solemnly dressed in the usual Fire Nation military attire and arranged her hair into a topknot. She made her way through the hallways of the estate, some still battered after their fight with Yun. They were painful reminders of the events that conspired many days ago, but also for a time where they were blissfully unaware of the deception Jianzhu had enacted.

Rangi came to an open space in the estates, a space without a roof that would have been used as a garden one day, but for now, was just a big patch of grass for visitors to enjoy the outside air. This was where she usually found Kyoshi, trying to converse with her past lives or prepping the negotiations for Fire Lord Zoryu to admonish the Saowan clan of their charges. But she didn’t find her here. All that was left was a tea set, with a cup filling with rain that poured out onto the grass, and a half-peeled orange.

Skipping meals again? She thought to herself in disappointment. She stared out through the wall of rain that separated the creaky wooden coverings from the soft dirt of the grassy patch. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the door to a room that was slightly open with light peering out of the crack. Rangi straightened her eyes and made her way to the room, ignoring the tea set for now.

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Rangi slid the door open with hesitation, mostly due to how jittery the frames became over numerous months without being replaced. She found Kyoshi, hunched over a table with an ink canister to her left, a lit candle to her right, and a letter containing Lao Ge’s updates on the Fire Nation in her hands. She broke her attention from the letter to see Rangi standing at the doorway.

“Hey,” Rangi wore a slight but sincere smile on her face. Kyoshi returned it back. She made her way to Kyoshi’s side, focusing her attention on the towering woman while she brought her attention back to the letter. “What's new today?”

“Not much, it seems that Zoryu’s keeping his end of the bargain, but we’re still keeping an eye on him just in case he decides to throw out the plan. So far he's been talking with a few of his chancellors to remove some of the Saowan clan from house arrest, but there's still those that were put in prison. Lao Ge will let me know if he gets out of line. And if he does, well…..you know.”

The warmth that Kyoshi radiated when Rangi first walked into the room quickly faded away. She knew that disposing of Zoryu was always going to be a possibility, but the thought of having to kill again to keep some perceived form of “peace” was continuing to strain her mind. This feeling transformed her face to a mask, one that was stoic and devoid of emotion.

Rangi’s concerns came back in full force. She would be lying if she said that she was truly behind this plan. It went against her own code of honor that she has been following since childhood. In fact, it went against her own basic morals. But she knew that the situation was dire, many people's lives might be on the line. She also knew that it wasn’t the easy solution, Kyoshi knows the ripple effect this would have across the Fire Nation. It was a last resort and nothing else. With time, Rangi started to understand why Kyoshi worked in the ways that she did. But it still felt wrong to her.

Rangi turned her head to the side, trying to hide her face. Kyoshi’s lips parted as she was about to say something to her, but decided against it. Then a different thought came into her head.

“Also….your mother will be here later today. Along with Sifu Atut.”

Rangi huffed, reverting back to a familiar expression, that of annoyance. “Great,” she said sarcastically. “I can’t wait.”

“I’m not excited to see your mother either, but it means you’ll get the proper healing for your wound.” Kyoshi then took a curious look at Rangi, examining her more sturdy posture. “But come to think of it, you’ve bounced back a lot more than I thought you would. I said you might catch a fever but I haven’t seen any signs.”

This relaxed Rangi from the previous topic as her annoyance quickly subsided into playfulness. “Maybe my strong will has been keeping me alive.” She gave her a cheeky glance as Kyoshi rolled her eyes at the firebender’s comment.

Then Rangi slipped her hand into Kyoshi’s, softly entwining their fingers. “Or maybe its that I have a great healer.”

Kyoshi tried to hide her slight embarrassment before Rangi gave her a kiss on her temple. For this point in their relationship, a gesture like that might have appeared childish, but it broke the tension with a bit of sweetness. They both laughed, enjoying each other's company as they let their current responsibilities be set aside for just a brief moment.

But it didn’t take long for reality to set back in for Kyoshi. Something else was on her mind, something that wasn’t the future of the Fire Nation. She thought about what might become of the woman she loved. Her recovery has been steady, but there was still the pressing question of permanent internal damage. The thought began to fester deeper into the back of her mind. She began to grapple with the thought that maybe she didn’t really save her. Her mind began to drift to those she tried to save, but couldn’t. She felt like she let her guard down again, allowing fate to take another jab.

Rangi was still smiling, she was caught up in the moment. But her face changed as she remembered why she came to her in the first place. “Well, I’ve actually got something I need to ask you. Have you been skipping meals again?”

Kyoshi stayed silent for a good while, eventually bowing her head down.

“Kyoshi, we’ve been through this! You can’t keep doing that, it's not healthy. Especially for someone under as much stress as you are. You need to eat.”

Kyoshi sighed, but tried to conceal it. She wished stress was all there was, but it was much more than that. Her sigh quickly became a chuckle. “It’s okay. You don’t have to worry so much about me.”

“But I do! You’ve been like this ever since we met back at the palace. I’ve been trying to help you get back on a normal eating schedule, but now I think it's only gotten worse.”

Kyoshi slowly turned to face Rangi. She looked like she was struggling to keep the mask on, pretending that everything is okay. “Its fine. I don’t want you to worry about my health, not when you haven’t gotten proper treatment for your wound.”

Something about the way Kyoshi said those last few words unsettled her. Before she might have said that in a somewhat combative tone, but now she sounded soft and withered. It wasn’t just her voice either, she looked tired. Not the kind of tired that could be cured with a good night’s sleep, something more than that.

“Besides, I don’t mind being hungry.”

Rangi didn’t know much about Kyoshi’s childhood in the streets but hearing this gave her a different perspective on everything. She knew what it was like to live off of rations from her time in the Academy, but she never knew what it was like to not know if you could even find a morsel for the next day. This was a feeling she never had the displeasure of knowing.

And it filled her with anger. The same kind of anger she had back at the lake in Hujiang. Part of it was anger at Kyoshi, for feeling like she might deserve any of this. That she deserved any of the horrible turns that have taken outside of her own control. But another part of it was at the world, for making her believe she deserved this pain. To say she got a real deal on life was a gross understatement. She didn’t deserve to punish herself for what the world had done to her.

But Rangi had to conceal that anger. Expressing her outrage wouldn’t help anybody. It was a feeling she would have to tackle someday soon, but today wasn’t that day. What Kyoshi needed was food. “Well, who's taking care of who now? Like it or not you need something to eat-”

Right as Rangi was getting up, she felt a tug at her wrist. Kyoshi was holding on to her tightly.

“B-Before you do that, could you stay here. Just for a little bit. I’m almost done with the letter, then you can make me eat whatever you want.”

Rangi looked down into her eyes, comforted by the sincerity of her words. She wasn’t putting on a mask right now. Without hesitation, she sat back down next to Kyoshi and laid her head against her shoulder. Kyoshi let out a long, breezy sigh as she returned to the letter.

Kyoshi was once again enveloped in a warmth that she missed for some time. Even after they reunited, they didn’t always get the chance to be alone. It felt like something she dearly needed right now. But moments of peace caused suspicion and worry in Kyoshi. Her life had always taken a turn into tragedy right in the middle of peaceful moments. A sinking feeling crept up on her, a sinking feeling about nothing she could identify. Her mind went to Rangi’s injuries again. She thought about the news she might get from Atut once she heals her. What would it mean for the rest of their lives? She wished she could silence these thoughts. That they could all just fade away.

As she finished the letter, Kyoshi attempted to calm her senses by focusing on Rangi’s breathing and the sound of rain coming from the open doorway.