#seeing him. seeing though the veil. seeing him for him and all his actions and all his care.

[theladyeclectic79]

As much as I agree with what's written above, I have one caveat to add in defense of Solas (if you can really defend his actions post-waking up from his thousand-year slumber). Solas has made the biggest mistakes of his life because he chose NOT to do the thing he was set to do. He allowed Mythal to continue trying to temper the Evanuris, and they killed her; being convinced to take a corporeal body even though he KNEW what that choice did to spirits of Wisdom; and when he DOES take corporeal form, angering the Titans and having to make them tranquil to keep them from destroying his world.

In Solas' eyes, every mistake he's made was because somebody, whether it was Mythal (usually) or circumstance, made him change his mind. So he's very gunshy with people who try to tell him he's wrong, or even just express an opinion opposed to his own. Felassan was the start of his villainy arc IMO, but then he also took out Flemeth to get her power, took the Inquisitor's arm, and ultimately killed Varric. Anyone who got in his way had to be dealt with, because he no longer believes that anyone other than himself could possibly be correct. (Good ol' Pride rearing its ugly head!)

And even though he acknowledges Rook and their team got everything to where they needed to be in order for the final decision of the Veil to occur, he doesn't allow himself to be swayed. Not until the Inquisitor AND Mythal (two versions, including an "original" copy of her) are alongside Rook showing him a different path and releasing him from his bonds.

The man is stuck in a Sunk Cost Fallacy: he can't get past what he's done to get to where he is now and doesn't see any other path forward. He's schemed, killed, destroyed, betrayed, all in the name of a cause that, if it's actually wrong... Well. It's a tragedy all around honestly, but what does one expect from a being of Pride?

So yes. Murdering people is (now) in-character for Solas, but only because he can't allow anyone else to convince him to stray from his path. He's dedicated to doing the right thing, which in his eyes is removing/destroying the Veil; all other paths could only possibly lead to worse destruction and ruin. He's single-mindedly focused on his path and refuses to listen to reason because to do so would, in his mind, be worse than what he's planning now.

I find him to be a compelling villain, one of the better ones I've read or played in media, BECAUSE he knows what he's done is evil but that wasn't his intention.

I find the criticism that Solas killing Varric was included to make you “think solas was bad” and it’s “character assassination” really funny because like

Yes, narratively it WAS included to show you the lengths solas would go to get his way. It WAS included to show you how unwilling he was to listen to any opinion but his own (despite his posturing on the matter, because it’s also meant to show you that that’s a lie). It WAS included to show you that he’s the sort of person who would murder someone who reached out to him in friendship to show him another way without a moments hesitation

Or rather, it was included to REMIND you of this, because this is not character assassination, this is who he’s been since the beginning. As in, literally the first thing he does in this series is murder Felassan for disagreeing with him. And he was friends with Felassan for millennia. They came up with this character and the first thing they wanted to tell the audience about him is that he would murder an ally without hesitation if they so much as disagreed with him.

Murdering Varric is extremely in character. That’s why they wanted to show it. To show you that Solas is the kinda person who does that. To remind those who have read The Masked Empire that yes, that’s a thing he’s willing to do, and no it wasn’t secretly an out of character mistake but was, in fact, one of the core features of this character that they wanted to show you from the very beginning. And to get those who haven’t read The Masked Empire up to speed on the fact that that is the sort of man Solas is

[qurbanjaan]

My experience and personal view on veiling as someone who grew up under a Burqa

When I was born, my father didn’t want me because I was a girl. When a girl is born, she isn’t cherished like a boy. Your life is received as a deadweight (note: I’m not saying this is something that happens every single time, just most of them) and a disappointment by the family. When your first breath comes in, the honor is on your shoulders.

My parents were so disappointed they gave me up to my aunt and uncle until I was one year old. When I was three, my father tried to sell/promise me into marriage. My grandmother, his mother, was the one who intervened and stopped him from doing it.

As I grew up, I noticed clear differences between me and girls from less conservative families, but everything was relatively normal until I hit nine years old. When it happened, I suddenly stopped traveling with my parents, stopped being able to leave the curtains open, couldn’t wear the clothes I used to wear even though I was still a child… as I grew older and older, the restrictions increased as my uncle and my father said I was becoming a beautiful woman and “I would be a problem for their family”.

Then, when I noticed, I wasn’t allowed to appear on windows, get packages from the mailman, go out in the yard, have a phone, stay alone in my room, talk to men (even if it was something as trivial as buying groceries), going out alone, needing to looking down when men walk past you, stay in your room when there’s visitors and don’t make a noise so they can’t hear you, not speak too loudly either, not share your name… the list is endless.

And, when you grow up inside a such conservative, traditional and religious family, your only future is disappearing. Along with having no voice and no face, servitude is as inescapable as death.

When you’re under a piece of cloth, you become faceless, you have no identity of your own. Outside the house, you’re a ghost. Inside the house, you’re a servant. You have no choice over yourself. This is your identity, a servant ghost who’s screams people pretend not to hear.

To a certain level, when you try to reflect on it, the veiling can be comforting. Being invisible can be comforting, no one sees you, you don’t need to worry about a thing. You can hide all your thoughts and most shameful actions from the daylight and no one is going to find out about them. But, when you are under the veil, your identity becomes something only you know about. To the rest of the world, you don’t exist, you’re not human. The veil will slowly dehumanize you, you will start fading away and there’s nothing you can do about it because how can someone attribute a face to a piece of fabric with a mesh on eye level?

And don’t fool yourself, the longer you keep your veil on, the harder the expectations will be. You may only need to cover now, but in some time, they will ask you why are your toes showing and why are you not hiding your hands behind the veil too, and why are you even outside your house? You should be home, protecting your family’s honor, you’re disgracing your family, go home.

And you may think “I’m invisible to the outside world but in my house I’m irreplaceable”, are you? How irreplaceable will you be when a younger, better wife comes in and the only safety you may have is the idea that your children will grow up to take care of you? How would someone possibly feel bad for you when you are nothing but a black trashbag? If you become a beggar, how will they see the suffering on your face if it will be covered and hidden away from the world?

I can’t be hypocritical and say that I don’t feel a sense of security under the veil, but it’s a false sense of security. When the time for your death comes, you won’t have your name on your grave, you won’t have a face. All you will ever have been is a servant, invisible to the outside world, with no God above to wonder “what about her?”. How dear are you inside those walls?

[acid-ixx]

gets fucking stabbed by damian and my last breath still be like "it's not his fault ! he is ten and was raised to be murderous since he was born ! kid entered a household where everyone ignores my existence, i don't blame him for assuming that to be the norm and acting evil to me so that he assimilates to his new environment ! bro literally went through the worst all his life so of course the way he expresses himself is harmful to others !"

and then i get stabbed again lol

— masterlist !

OH MY GOD PLEASE 😭 the gaslighting yourself is real, i'm telling you.

unfortunately, the reader's toxic mindset of justifying everything your family does is a common scenario for every time one of them fucks up; only in the past though. the present chapters will have you slowly realize just nothing really is ever your fault. that you've never once been in the blame for the actions of your youngest brother.

but right now, i want to focus on why you just seem to let damian go about his own crazy path of targeting you. and it's either it's because you have nothing, nobody else to fight back with you, or it's purely because you allow him to.

to destroy you, to make you suffer, to make you learn that you have no place, or standing in the family. and if you do have a place, it is at the rock bottom.

this is what damian is taught: the weak should be eliminated before they fester into some type of unnecessary cancer.

you're weak, when he first saw you, when you first approached him with your tail tucked behind your legs and an invitation to hang out together with the scent of cookies wafting in the air— he knows that it is you who will make him weak.

you give him temptations to be a child, he's raised to fight against it. he ignores the unwelcomed feeling of wamth that blooms in his chest, those are feelings that gets you killed.

so it's how the story goes: he brings his sword up to your neck, and sways his hands swift enough to make a small cut to ensure that the first thing you associate him with is fear. and for someone vulnerable like you, it doesn't take much before you quickly submit to the prospect of your place beneath a trained assassin like him.

he ignores the sudden pang of his heart and the aching, gnawing dread that chews at his mind at the memory of your widening eyes and the wobble in your steps.

it's already damaging enough to have the youngest be introduced and immediately accepted into the family, but it's worse when he's significantly younger than you, a boy nearly half your age; someone you've always wanted to have, to care for, to help raise and cherish... despises you from the start, before you two even formed a connection.

someone you once called your younger brother, now became an enemy in opposing lines in a place called home.

what would've been fine-tuned jealousy towards him because he was given everything in a silver platter turned into shame that you couldn't even face him, not right after he threatened to kill you, no... and especially not after you've convinced yourself that if you couldn't even prove your worth for a young boy like him, then you really have nothing good to offer.

you give him the autonomy to think it's alright, that due to his upbringing, alongside your naive brain always justifying that your other siblings are right, and you are in the wrong— he was given every opportunity to torment you when you even go as far as being in the same room as him.

and i have my receipts on why you're just like that; all in the grace of low self-worth and self-esteem. past you reasons out that it's because it's always your fault.

you couldn't even find a way to save your mother, you couldn't even establish your place in the manor, you couldn't comfort bruce when he was still not over jason, what more could you be when all you see damian as is a young, broken child like you? that behind that veil of threats and weapons ready to attack you, is someone you knew could've been different, if he was raised right...

if he'd given you a chance to help nurture the softer, more humane part of him.

you've always wanted a younger sibling, not only from back when you were just with your mother, but also when you were introduced to the manor. because not only did it mean that you'll know how your mother felt when she raised you, but because you thought you'd have somebody by your side throughout the silent torment you've went through.

and when you're graced with one, who doesn't even consider you his older sibling; you let it be.

you let him be himself.

damian wayne, demon's granson, the son of the bat.

so many titles he's called, but never one where he's your younger brother.

it doesn't help that you justify his past, because the man you idolize, dick, does so too whenever you try to complain. his excuses are never out of malicious intent to have you suffer further— it's just that he never once actually considered you as important enough to bat an eye on, like how the rest of them treat you.

because you know that even dick has his limit towards the youngest member of the family; he just never reaches it when it comes to you.

so if you have a person allow another to act terribly towards you, but have another, a friend or family, who teaches you that it's not right, who fights by your side; it wouldn't take long for you to also learn how to defend yourself then. you'll gain confidence that you're at least not alone, that your actions are completely valid.

... but if you have an entire family that couldn't even scold the boy for leaving a scar on your neck, who brushes his mean comments about you aside, who isolates you even further with malicious words that you know becomes crueler when targeted at you—

then you have no basis for what is right, and what is wrong.

and that makes your authority, your trust in yourself dwindle like your already crumbling relationship with all the others the further you try to fight back.

that's when you learn what it's like to give up, all over again. if you accept his vidictive insults, if you know your place to turn back if you see him in the same room, if you knew from the start that sometimes trying doesn't equate to succeeding; then it'll at least numb the pain that comes after.

for the entirety of your life from when damian was introduced, that was how you coped—

but your life after the manor, after damian matures and learns softness, about empathy (that he's buried long ago during his training from when he was all but a toddler) on your situation; reading your journal entries because he still felt entitled to due to some hidden, twisted trait of possessiveness... that's an entirely different story.

would you still be as understanding as you were back in the past towards him? would you still force yourself to love the demon you saw as just a little boy? or would damian finally understand that it's too late to turn back time, to correct all his mistakes?

either way, if you were capable enough to change (at least, in his eyes), becoming an independent person (you think, huh? your place is at the manor), then maybe you could give him a chance too, to fix your relationship and build a bridge to an even stronger one.

one where you could finally baby him, like what you've desired. one where he could feel vulnerable, when he learned that it's valid to feel weak— it cuts back to the previous points: you make him weak.

and when he's out to find you after going through every single diary, every entry, after deducing that there's still a small spark in your that'll forgive him if he tries; he refuses give up any sooner if it meant replicating the same warmth he felt when he stood by your presence.

so... you wouldn't want to leave your youngest brother waiting for you, don't you?

after all, it's just like what your entries told him, right? this is what you always wanted, right?

a/n: everyone is entitled to their own feelings about how i portray damian and mc's relationship!!! i love how all of you guys have different conflicting reactions to this. it's all so complex for me, how damian sees you as someone who's weak and makes him weak (he's just a stubborn little guy), and you, who sees yourself in damian, alongside the added desire to just have someone to care for (because you want to so badly honor your mother's memory), and that person also caring for you is ARGH!!?!

i apologize for my long rambles (if anyone wants me to cut back on posts like this, just tell me), i'm sure everyone is anticipating chapter 5 and possibly (soon) chapter 6 (since the drafts, not the final work is becoming too long). but right now, all i could provide are my depictions of the reader's relationship with every member of the family. i love to churn scenarios where it feels like you're actually part of the family so i'm actually manipulating all of you guys to become attached to the characters too, just to add an extra layer of angst, hehe...

[seelestia]

conclusion: aventurine likes being the only thing on your mind (to which he, in fact, is).

1.1k wc. established relationship, cringy fluff x10000 pls have mercy. petty & jealous aven says hi (ft. his beef w/ an inanimate object, help). a drabble hastily strewn together to celebrate my birthday on oct 13th! ‹3 as u can see, this silly guy is still in my head 🙏

aventurine likes to think that he is a man with sharp eyes. it makes perfect sense because if not, why else would he find sneakiness—or rather, attempts at it—to be so endearing?

all the more so, considering how you've been glancing at the display case behind him for a while now.

thrice, four times, five times. the way you try to catch more glimpses of it eventually grows from tentative to curious. he wonders if you caught on that he's been keeping track of this very top secret, very well-hidden agenda of yours – but as your eyes wander from his face for the nth time, he guesses not.

are the story he's recounting and the cup of sundae you're sharing with him not riveting enough? to have your attention be so easily stolen by whatever thing in whatever shop behind him. . . the mere thought is enough to form some kind of pull at the corners of his lips. it's insistent, it's going downward, and it's costing him some significant ounces of self-control not to pout.

(do you think the pendant is prettier to look at than him? hm, he's feeling neglected.)

but playing the fool is getting boring; finally, aventurine decides it's time to shed his veil of ignorance and lets his acknowledgement of your actions be known within the form of a jovial question.

“does it strike your fancy?” he asks, scooping a spoonful of melting sundae to his lips with a lack of enthusiasm. it tastes good—would taste better if he had your full attention and if you were the one feeding him—but alas, he digresses.

you blink, taken aback. no doubt it's at the fact you're caught red-handed. adorable, he thinks to himself. “it looks pretty,” you reply with a sheepish smile, the awe in your voice doing very little effort to conceal itself. so adorable, his mind chimes in again.

(aventurine still thinks there are better sights out there, though. like you in his eyes and him in yours, for example.)

he notices the vague hint of affection in your tone and suddenly, his interest is piqued to its limit. you rarely use that tone unless it's directed at him. when the frivolous merchant turns around to have a look for himself, his motions are oddly quick and swift – definitely not fueled by a sense of rivalry or anything of that sort. absolutely not.

in any case, he still takes in the sight of the accessory with professionalism. in the wide cosmos, aventurine has come across many of its kind that he either bought for his own collection at the cost of a pretty penny or won in a gamble at the cost of his life. your fascination with it is justified, he'd say, take it from the perspective of an avid collector.

a quaint design, smooth surface, intricate carvings, reasonable price (he doesn't mind the jaw-dropping amount of zeros), and from a make he's heard of before. . . but he'll stop at that because if he says more, he'd surely lose his appetite and the sundae still has a few more spoonfuls left.

(whatever, he's still feeling vengeful towards that thing.)

ironically, though, aventurine's eyes are the ones who wander this time as they flit from your profile to the display. back and forth, a few times in succession. you tilt your head in confusion – but all he requires is only several seconds of your time to accurately visualize the pendant adorning your features. luckily for him, your face is such a familiar sight in his memory that the vision forms itself quite effortlessly.

and when aventurine finally takes a moment to admire the finished image in his head, he smiles contentedly. who wouldn't, at the face of a beauty like yours?

“mhm,” he says dotingly, evidently satisfied at the conclusion he arrives at. “it'll look good on you.”

it's not difficult to predict what comes next when he starts reaching for the card in his pocket – or so, he thought as the sound of your laughter stops him dead. yes, you're laughing, so heartily to the point that your shoulders shake a little.

aventurine expects a demure shake of the head or a weary sigh as he eagerly offers to spend credits for you, yet again. it's common knowledge that he favors spoiling you with his riches: because he likes pretty things and he likes you, thus it's understandable why he likes you in pretty things. but this? he isn't expecting this.

of course, the sight of your expressing mirth at the silliest of things has always been kept framed in his mind but as happy as he is to see it, it still doesn't change the perplexed state he is left in. what, does he have sundae smeared on his face or something?

“thanks, but—” you giggle, a familiar melody that flows like silk to his ears. “i was thinking about how it'd suit you, silly.”

a moment of silence, just enough to let the realization sink in.

“. . .me?” the slight disbelief in aventurine's voice is unmistakable.

“yeah,” you nod with a hum, “the color really brings out your eyes.”

(and his pathetic heart skips a beat.)

oh, how a poor man's world could be flipped upside down with just a sentence. the said man dramatically places a hand over his face as if to shield himself from the light radiating off your very being. “how disappointing. i've fallen right into your trap,” he relents with a long sigh so exaggeratedly that you have to stifle a chuckle at his reaction.

he's smiling so widely, though, so is he truly disappointed? and to that, aventurine will confidently say: no, there is no reason to be disappointed when he has been the one occupying your thoughts all along.

(so, the bad blood with that pendant was for nothing, after all.)

“you're so mean to me sometimes,” he pouts, it's his right to do so after being tricked. “will you forgive me then?” you smile, then he melts just like that in the snap of a finger.

“i can never say no to that,” aventurine sighs in defeat, leaning in for a kiss to soothe his non-existent wounds. it's not like you want to say no to him either.

“wait—” you place a hand on his chest and he makes a questioning noise that sounds akin to a whiny huff. then, a gentle sensation as your thumb brushes against a certain spot on his cheek. “you got sundae on your face,” you chuckle, failing horribly at trying to hold in your laugh all over again.

darn it.

“c'mere—”

all kinds of self-restraint and public image be damned, aventurine immediately closes the distance without further delay – and when his lips meet yours, nothing else matters.

yes, not even the sundae that has melted into sugary soup by now.

[ ☆ THANK YOU FOR READING! © seelestia on tumblr, oct 2024. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own. ]

[saanphoenix]

Some insight to Saeris and why this is the conclusion she has come to.

Laidir backstory, by default, is "Former Tevinter galley slave." But Saeris is Dalish. She's got vallaslin. Which means that she had reached age, gotten tattooed, and shortly thereafter was taken by slavers. Because Dalish clans don't really go near Tevinter, right? And she's not a mage, she's just a hunter, so into the manual labor work she goes. While kind of inferring that her people are kind of the first on the chopping block when it comes to fucked up shemlen shit.

And, given her age in Veilguard, which I put at late 20's, she spends YEARS as a galley slave. (If you don't know what that is, it's the people stuck in the bottom of the boat rowing the long ass oars that propulse them.) It's not pretty. Not a good time. But she also has to do what she's got to do to not die. Or worse. There's some Not Great coping mechanisms that develop here. First and foremost, "What are emotions? Ha ha. :]"

And then lo! Pirates! Pirate attacks are quite common on galleys, really. There's generally fancy shit on boats using slave labor to get anywhere.

Except that it's not the normal pirate, it's the Lords. And you know how Isabela is about people aren't cargo, mate. So, the Lords get the fancy relics the Tevinters were trying to transport, and the slaves get to not be slaves anymore. And Saeris, having no idea where her old clan is, could be, if they're even still alive or not, and no sense of direction for the future, is just like, "...Hey, can I join you guys? I know how to Boat." And the Lords are like, "Yeah, sure! We get that a lot, actually."

Then comes the agonizing process of experiencing freedom again and the mortifying ordeal of having to remember how to be a Person.

That takes a minute. A very long one.

But what helps is, y'know, doing pirate things. Indiana Jones things. Ancient ruins, puzzles, treasures, arena fights. Anything to keep the mind off the Other Horrors in one's life.

For gold and glory becomes a motto for survival. The Lords become like her new clan. Through them, she learns how to move forward.

And then there's a job. It entails collecting an ancient relic. That a noble wants to hand over to the Venatori. And to keep that relic out of the hands of pure evil, and to protect the people who are her family now, Saeris does the right thing and kills the noble.

Right thing to do though it was, it was not the smart thing. So off Saeris is sent by Isabela...to stop Fen'Harel.

Being Dalish, she has her own preconceptions of the Dread Wolf. The tales Varric gives paint a similar yet different impression of the Trickster god. But all that REALLY matters to her is that his plan is to bring down the Veil, which will unleash demons all over the world. He has to be stopped just as that noble had to be stopped.

And just as she did with the noble, Saeris acts first to do the right thing. But this time, her entire crew pays the price. As does the world.

That's where the connection starts, really.

Sure, Saeris nips and barks at the Dread Wolf, tries to take the moral highground and justify her actions, but he bites back. And his bites are deeper.

D'meta's Crossing. Minrathous. Treviso. Weisshaupt. Well-intentioned decision after well-intentioned decision results in more blood on her hands. Because that's the price you pay as the leader. The responsibility. The guilt. And though she tells Bellara she can't blame herself for Cyrian's death, though she tells Harding that she can't blame herself for everything because it will destroy a person...she starts to fail to heed her own advice.

And by reenacting Solas' memories, by viewing his regrets, she starts to realize that, when she speaks with Solas, the questions he asks her... She is looking at her possible future. He is looking at his past.

From that point forward, knowing full well he will betray her yet not knowing how, Saeris resolves to make him stand down when the time comes. She has to make him see reason, just as Varric tried, though with far better insight than Varric ever had.

Because if she cannot get Solas to stop looking back and instead get him to find a way forward, then her own future very well may be a person who has come so far, through so much darkness, that she forgets what the light of hope looks like. That the blood on her hands colors her every deed.

She cannot become that, and she knows that she can. Because she's looking right at herself through his eyes.

So, there's data mined dialogue floating around of Morrigan telling Rook that few would react to the Dread Wolf's trickery with compassion and why would Rook.

And I've only seen one choice route, with no access to the others that might exist.

But I will say that, for Saeris, the answer would have been as simple as, "Because he's like me."

[edenaziraphale]

There's a lot to be said about the weaknesses and strengths of the writing in Dragon Age games, but for me there's nothing that trumps the way the writers' implicit biases shine through in their treatment of various characters. Anders and Solas showcase the very worst of this. Functionally Anders and Solas could (and I would go so far as to say should) operate as foils to one another. Anders is a victim of decades of abuse at the hands of both individuals and a system that demonized him from a very young age. We are given information about his childhood and time spent in the circle that makes it explicitly clear that Circles are an unjust and abusive system that traumatized him so much that he fled multiple times regardless of the fact that he knew the abuse would escalate each time he escaped. In the end, he chooses to chance death and lifelong struggle via conscription because it is his only shot at escaping his current reality. After that, in DA2, it's made clear that Kirkwall's circle is even worse. Karl is made tranquil, the templars are mad with power, and it's heavily implied that the tranquil are utilized as sex slaves and that some templars may even be selecting mages for tranquility based on their desire for them alone. In the light of all of that, Anders makes a very desperate and destructive choice. Regardless of how players feel about his actions, it's not really up for debate that the context surrounding them creates mitigating circumstances and a sympathetic backing. He was attempting to affect positive change for a group of people facing fates that the game makes clear are worse than death. Despite this, the game's writing treats him as an unsympathetic villain whose actions are not only reprehensible, but completely beyond the realm of human understanding. That dynamic at the end of DA2 carries into DAI. Solas, on the other hand, is on a quest to undo his own actions. His initial construction of the Veil and the problems that it caused can be viewed with (some) similarity to Anders circumstances in that Solas was attempting to right a wrong done by someone else, but the key difference is that, unlike Anders, who was a powerless victim attempting to free other powerless victims, Solas was on a revenge quest to avenge the death of his friend and had an incredible amount of power within the system that he existed as a part of.

His actions had horrific consequences that birthed what is essentially an entirely new existence for everyone in Thedas eons before the start of any of the games. He finds the outcome of his own actions intolerable, and seeks to reverse them. He harms friends and allies to do so, and makes it explicitly clear that he does not care who he harms or what the consequences are to Thedas or the people who live there in his quest to bring back the version of the world that he liked better. Functionally, Solas makes an excellent villain. He stands out from Anders (who operates in his narrative as a symbol of the rage and disenfranchisement of the powerless) as a representation of power and ego unchecked and the damage that they can cause.

Unfortunately, the writing of the game treats him as though he is the tragically complex victim of forces outside of his control when he is in fact the over-powered puppeteer. He is very much the master of his own destiny and he intends to be the master of everyone else's destiny as well by ripping apart the fabric of reality. No character in the series better demonstrates the writer's biases than Varric, who, as a narrator for DA2, essentially acts as the moral arbiter telling players how they should and should not feel about events, explaining what is and is not moral. His reactions to Anders stand out in sharp relief against what we see of his reaction to Solas in the Veilguard releases so far.

To be clear, I don't hate Solas as a character. I think as a villain, he works very well. His complete and total disregard for the wellbeing of others paired with his affect of wise and gentle mage are compelling to witness. His motivations are understandable from the selfish and self-centered core of us as people. He's a fantastic reminder of what happens when we decide that we know what's best with no input from others, when we pursue our desires above all else beneath the veneer of wisdom. He's fun, well rounded, and interesting. He is not, however, a tragic and morally justified sadboi victim of circumstance, and I resent that the writers treated him as though he was.

[senseandaccountability]

the healer has the bloodiest hands

I wrote some thoughts after the finale of Veilguard. Solavellan heavy.

This is just me, parsing through some feelings. "My people had a saying long ago -'The healer has the bloodiest hands'. You cannot treat a wound without knowing how deep it goes. You cannot heal pain by hiding it. You must accept. Accept the blood to make things better."  Solas to Thom Rainer in DAI.  ***

One can wonder, of course, what Mythal has to do with a Solavellan reunion and Solas’s choice to become the Veil’s protector, but hear me out. 

It is significant that it’s Mythal because she is the embodiment of his terrible past, the epitome of their brilliance and boldness and good intentions turned to terrible truths. The horrors they did, they did together. It is significant that it’s Mythal that sets him on this new course by removing the chains of his guilt and regret. Lavellan can’t do that, she didn’t forge them. Solas’s journey as the Dread Wolf begins and ends with Mythal. 

Mythal literally pulls Solas out of the Fade to use his wisdom, first to not lose herself to the other gods' vanity and brutality, then to gain advantage against them in an endless power struggle that breaks them both, I’d argue, though most significantly it breaks Solas. Retribution and revenge has no room for understanding, there is no wisdom in conquering. And Solas, for all his faults, isn’t brutal or cruel, doesn’t want power for his own gain. Instead he’s wise and creative, doomed to see the faults of his actions even as he carries them out, arguing in vain that the Evanuris too must see it - don’t cross these lines, don’t do it like this, don’t warp and twist your powers to forces of destruction. You must know this is madness! He objects to the creation of the bodies for the ancient elves, objects his own People’s physical creation. Did the earth not shake? It did, it was horrific and it was wrong and he knows this and it doesn’t matter. What he wants has never been part of the equation. 

Even when he breaks free from Mythal, when he burns her mark off his face, he never stops fighting for the world she once wanted. Because otherwise? Should he stop? Then all that he has done, all that he has given up, all that has been demanded of him both as Mythal’s lapdog and the Dread Wolf, leader of the rebel armies for centuries, cloaked in a persona of strategy and battle orders - all of that has been for nothing. He has made a ruin of himself, of the world, for nothing.  So he begins again, he picks up the pieces, he swears to make it right, to fix what he broke. That’s how he perceives healing, that’s what he thinks he is doing. But you cannot heal pain by hiding it. That’s why the Crossroads are falling apart with the manifestations of Solas’s greatest regrets, that’s why he needs Rook to escape his own prison, that’s why a Regret demon burns through Skyhold.

Solas traps the Evanuris as a final act of the ancient times, the creation of the Veil an embodiment of everything he and Mythal ever were - protection, benevolence, retribution, wisdom, pride. He ties it to the blood of the Firstborn out of spite and anger and it wrecks the world in ways he could not foresee. In ways he cannot fix because you cannot fix what has already happened.

You must accept. Accept the blood to make things better. He holds himself like a broken thing in front of Mythal and you can see it as submissive or as a man finally letting his grief out. There, at long last, he stands beaten and bloodied and blighted and he cries for all that was lost, all that he did and all that was done to him, all the things he cannot, cannot undo. And then: a new way forward.

In willingly binding himself to the Veil he embodies the best of those old myths, the All-Mother and the Breaker of Chains, as he breaks the cycle of punishment and grief and protects the sun and the moon. This oath, as opposed to the oaths of the empire that made him, is not to someone but to everyone, to all the innocents of the world. Instead of being the one who makes the terrible sacrifices of other people - the things I have done - he becomes the protector of the world that his people broke once upon a time. Instead of being the Creator of a new world without the Veil - the god he vehemently does not want to be, that he arguably thinks nobody should be - he becomes a caretaker, a guardian. A healer with bloody hands. And yes, it takes Mythal to break Mythal’s hold over him. You cannot treat a wound without knowing how deep it goes. And this one goes deep.  But it’s Lavellan who brings him the light in this story. It’s Lavellan who breaks through the dark, transforms it into something hopeful. 

His prison construct in the Fade was terrible, an abyss of regret made to hold a god. An ancient punishment for ancient crimes but times change, people change, the People change for better and for worse and here Lavellan stands in all her mortal imperfection, offering him not a way to change the past - where all these ancient beings are stuck - but a way to mend the future. It will be a terrible place, he tells her, saying I am terrible because the Fade shifts around our beings. It won’t be terrible, Lavellan argues. Because I’m there with you, walking the dinan’shiral with you, all the way. He doesn't have to fix anything first, he doesn't have to change for her, he just needs to stop hurting the world, hurting himself. Because she loves him, despite all the terrible mistakes he has made. Because she knows all his names, from Dread Wolf to Vhenan, she knows the power of his mind and the fires of his love and she saw more than most of the man he is. The man he wants to be. For a little slice of time there in Skyhold he was that man, he was seen and he saw. He saw the world filtered through her and could forgive it, he saw her through his own ancient, tired eyes and he fell in love no matter how much he thought he did not deserve it. You don't have to deserve love, or mercy, it doesn't demand anything in return, holds you to no oath. It is a gift, freely given. That's what Lavellan offers him by holding out her hand there, at the edge of everything. That's where the light slips in.

She’s real, which means everyone is real and she changes everything, because she can.  Ar lasa mala revas. 

[normspellsman]

Tidal Wave

part one | part two

pairing: lo’ak x fem!human!reader

genre: angst, more angst, comfort (from tsireya to lo’ak + from spider to reader + from kiri to reader), & fluff (at the very end)

word count: 14.4k+ (holy fuck)

warning(s): suggestive content, crying, yelling, familial arguments, secrets are spilled (😬), neytiri + lo’ak arguing, mentions of violence + self inflicted injury (reader rubs skin raw), mention of incident at ta’unui clan, slightest lo’ak x tsireya, reader having self-deprecating thoughts, lo’ak being lovesick for reader, mention of lo’ak being sad, major character death, sprinkle of miscommunication / misinterpretation of actions, blood, slightest spider x reader, kiri + reader are bffs!, heartbreak?, cursing, & mentions of having little appetite

taglist: @bewbz2110 @httpjiikook @aonungsmate @cheyehc @ihave500hubbiez @heart-an0n @omnifanfic @toomuchtime02 @bigdikzaddy @anxietydrogz @myh3artttt @ancientbeing10 @yourusername1 @dearstell @goodiesinthecloset21 @iwannahaveaprettyaesthetic @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367 @arminsgfloll @optimisticblazetrash @liyahsocorro @universal-s1ut @amortencjja @sweetirilly @blushhpeachh @alohastitch0626 @btsiguess-kpop @ithinkimaslutforharry @zootymcnooty @zeeader @reallysparklychaos @zeida @coffeehurricanes @manumanulau @pumpararapam @ipang @willowcxmilee @audigay @sagaonpandora

word bank: sa’nok — mother, sempul — father, eywa / great mother — goddess deity that the na’vi believe in, tawtute — human; sky person, ikran — four winged creature used for hunting + flying, kehe — no, palulukan — thanator, sìlpeytsyìp — little hope (idk if it’s an accurate translation since i just put the words hope + little together), tulkun — whale like creatures, ilu — sea creature used for hunting + riding, yawne — beloved, & nga yawne lu oer — i love you

songs that i drew inspo from: a match into water by pierce the veil, gilded lily (sped up version) by cults, mr. forgettable by david kushner, & reflections by the neighbourhood

note: huge shoutout to @neteyamslovrr for helping me proofread this! ilysm baby 😭🫶🏼🤍 mentions of readers birthday takes place around 3-4 months after her & spider were kidnapped (so reader, kiri, spider, & lo’ak are aged up to 17-18). i imagined the events of atwow happening over a couple of months due to the fact that ronal is more visibly pregnant towards the end than when we first see her. so, just for clarification :)

Lo’ak had begged his parents the morning after to save you.

He pleaded and begged, getting on his knees as he sobbed into his Sa’nok’s thigh, covering it in his warm tears and snot. But, Jake’s answer stayed persistent: “They are strong kids, son. They will be alright,”. Of course, Jake wasn’t aware that Lo’ak and his other siblings heard what he had to say about you and Spider the night before during he and Neytiri’s heated discussion.

( “The kids know everything! They know where we live! Spider knows our whole operation. We are not safe as long as they have those two. They both can lead him right here! We are no longer safe staying here.” )

Lo’ak knew that neither you or Spider would ever give up the location of High Camp or of the Sully family. The both of you were loyal to a fault. Perhaps too loyal for your own good. It hurt to hear that his own Sempul would ever think that you would betray the family you grew to think of as your own. Lo’ak knew you better than anyone else.

Having to leave the Omatikaya and not even attempt to save you made Lo’ak resent his parents, his heart completely breaking into two as he got farther and farther from his home and essentially you. It was days before he had spoken to his parents after arriving at Awa’atlu, but it wasn’t like his parents sought out to speak to him either.

The more time he spent on the island, the more time he found himself yearning to have you by his side. To experience all of this with you. There was a constant hole in his chest that never left, deepening every time he thought of you. He had no way of knowing if you were being tortured at the current moment or even alive. He didn’t trust the RDA to keep you alive, especially once they saw how loyal you were to Jake and his family, disposing of you like you were nothing. You are everything to Lo’ak and it pained him to not know how you were doing or what was happening to you during your time in the enemy’s hands.

He could only pray to Eywa every night to keep you safe and spare you, fully aware that if she answered his call, she’d need something in return. And he was fully prepared to pay the price with his own life.

———

The torture they put you through was something you’d never would wish upon your greatest enemy.

They had ceased the torture on Spider, the orders being given to them by Quaritch. So, Ardmore turned to you and inflicted all kinds of pain and continuous torture onto you. The human boy begged Quaritch to put a stop to this, demanding him to let you go. But no matter how much Spider pleaded with the man or how many times he went over it with Ardmore, the woman didn’t budge. She was insistent on getting something out of you. But all she really got was memories and flashes of a tall Na’vi teen boy and nothing else. Things that were useless to her, so she punished you every time.

The first time you arrived at their base, their doctors had pulled you aside and assessed you. They deemed that you had multiple fractured ribs and a mild concussion, ordering Ardmore to let you heal before she decided to do anything. She agreed to it at first since she had Spider to get information out of, but once Quaritch told her that he was off limits and was going to comply with him and his team, she began to drag you out to the interrogation room and leave you in there for hours until you passed out.

It was the same routine for weeks. Wake up, get dragged to the interrogation room, receive endless amounts of torture for hours, pass out, repeat. Days began to blur together, not knowing where one began and the next stopped. It was all the same.

The first time you realized you had been in the RDA’s grasp for too long was the night Spider had snuck into your room and gently sang happy birthday to you. It must’ve been months then. Your seventeenth birthday was celebrated nearly a year before being taken hostage by Quaritch. Ardmore had deemed it best to separate Spider and you from each other, breaking down both of your support systems. That night, as you and the boy silently cried into the dark of your room, you lost all hope that Lo’ak was coming back for you.

It hurt too much to think about. But you knew, you knew that eventually, it was never going to work out. You were too different. Something was bound to happen sooner or later, ripping the two of you from each other and essentially ending the relationship you had with one another. You loved Lo’ak dearly but you knew that your love was never in the cards. It was something taboo, forbidden. You only hoped that Lo’ak was able to find comfort within someone else during this time. For you doubted that you’d ever see each other again. He needed someone like him. Not you.

———

Lo’ak had done everything he could to keep his mind off of you.

He needed to keep his mind off of you if he didn’t want to break down in the middle of the beach twenty-four-seven. So, he often spent more time training with Tsireya and got into meaningless fights whenever he could, angering his parents to no end. It worked at times, but often not, his mind always wandered back to you. Always.

“Lo’ak, what are you doing?” A soft voice asked, pulling the boy away from his never ending thoughts of the one person he desired to see.

“Moping,” he mumbled, crossed legged on the shoreline as he picked at the soft sand beneath him.

“I can tell,” she replied, taking a seat next to him. The boy next to her looked like a wounded puppy, ears drawn back as his tail laid limp beside him. Plus, he had a frown painted onto his face as he blankly stared at the sand below. “What is bothering you?” She asked, calmness etched into her voice.

Lo’ak hadn’t told her, or any other Metkayina for that matter, about you and the kind of relationship you shared. Sure he mentioned you and Spider and what happened before he and his family left to seek uturu from the reef people. But he never gave anyone the idea that he was in love with you. He didn’t know how any of them would react.

“Is it about the humans you mentioned earlier?” She added, filling in the silence that was growing between them as Lo’ak didn’t answer her previous question.

The boy only hummed, poking his fingers into the damp sand. He really didn’t want to talk to Tsireya about this. It risked the chance of his Sa’nok hearing or a stranger eavesdropping and telling everyone else in the village about how much he cared for a tawtute. It also hurt to talk about you. Because he knew once he started, he was never going to stop.

“I am sorry that they were taken. I know they meant a lot to you and your siblings,” Tsireya commented, truly feeling sorry for the young boy. She could tell that Lo’ak deeply cared for the humans and she couldn’t imagine losing someone that close to her like that.

A shrug from Lo’ak was his only response to the girl’s comfort, tears beginning to prick his eyes as he began to crave your touch and soothing lips against his. He began to forget what it was like to have your hands and lips on his own skin, making the hole in his chest increase in size.

“What were their names again?” She delicately asked, genuinely curious. Foreign things always interested the girl and she had never seen a tawtute before. So, befriending people that have, made her want to ask all of the questions she’s been dying to ask. The girl knew that her chance of meeting a human was extremely low before the Sully’s arrival, but that still didn’t stop her from wondering.

A small smile etched itself onto the corners of Lo’ak’s lips as he thought about you. Your name was probably his favorite thing to utter. It becoming a prayer during the darkest hours of the night, with you being the only one to answer his mumbled words. You were Lo’ak’s salvation and he never hesitated to remind you.

“(Y/N) and Spider,” he replied, fingers now fiddling with the anklet around his foot. You had made it for him for his fifteenth birthday. The poor boy had been so flustered while trying to tie it around his ankle that the woven material kept slipping through his fingers. You offered your help with a giggle, your soft fingertips causing fire to erupt against his skin as they trailed from his ankle bone to his calf in a teasing manner. If Lo’ak closed his eyes and tried hard enough, he could still feel the tingly sensation your fingers left behind in their wake.

“Those are…interesting names,” Tsireya giggled, testing out their names on her tongue, attempting to enunciate every letter and vowel to the best of her ability. “Humans have such weird names,” she comments, reflecting back on the time she briefly met Norm and Max when they came to visit after Kiri’s seizure.

Lo’ak only hummed in response, smile still on his face as he recalled all the memories he has of you. He missed you so much. He felt empty without you. He felt as if he had half a soul with you gone. His whole being ached to be with you, touch you, love you.

The Metkayina girl noticed Lo’ak’s almost blissful smile on his face, copying his actions. She could only assume that one of you meant more to him than the other. That the other held a special place in his heart. “Which one is it?” She asked, not trying to sound like she was prying. That was the last thing she wanted to do. She was just curious.

Lo’ak’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, “What do you mean?”.

“Which one has you wrapped around their finger?”.

The question itself made Lo’ak blush, bottom lip going in between his teeth in an attempt to stop an even wider smile from making its way onto his face. Damn, he thought, she can read me like a book. You got to be more subtle man.

The boy gave her his answer, tail perking up and swaying to and from at the mention of your name, his body betraying him at trying to hide his affection for you.

“Can you tell me about her?” Tsireya asked, enthralled at how just the mere mention of your name influenced such actions from the Omatikaya boy.

Lo’ak didn’t need to be asked twice before he began to talk about you, barely taking any breaths in between each word he uttered. If only his Mother and Father could see how much love Lo’ak held for you. If only.

———

“Ready kid?”.

You’d rather throw yourself off the highest floating mountain than go with Quaritch and his team on their mission to hunt down Jake and his family. But, alas, you had to go. You had to go unless you wanted to continue to be tortured by the old blonde Captain. You hated that woman with everything you had in you.

Quaritch had promptly requested Ardmore to cease her torturous treatment on you, stating that he finally got a lead on where the Sully’s might be and that you were crucial to the plan he and his team were putting together. He needed you to go with them and he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. He saw how Jake’s son had reacted when he was teasing the boy about you. The boy cared for you and Quaritch was going to use it as leverage somehow.

“Don’t have much of a choice, do I?” You replied, eyes narrowing at the man in front of you. You absolutely did not want to go wherever they were going, but you didn’t want to stay behind and be tortured to death. So, you took the lesser of two evils (if you could even call it that).

Quaritch chuckled at your response, shaking his head, motioning you to follow after him. The man had taken a liking to you, much like he did with Spider. You weren’t afraid to express how much you disliked the man nor did you hesitate to express your distaste for the whole situation he put you in. He liked your bluntness and admired your loyalty to the Na’vi, even if it was a major inconvenience for him and his team.

You had only ridden on an ikran a handful of times before, Lo’ak only being able to convince you with his little pout and big pleading eyes. You never were a fan of heights and having to spend Eywa knows how long on an ikran to the next base Quaritch was heading to made you want to cry. At least with Lo’ak, you knew that he’d always catch you if you began to slip. But with Quaritch, you were confident he wouldn’t give two shits if you slipped off the flying creature.

“I am not getting on an ikran with you,” you commented, hands on hips as you approached the RDA Avatar soldiers and their ikrans. You were very surprised that the whole group managed to, successfully, claim an ikran within only months of being on Pandora whereas native Na’vi trained their whole lives for this. It all left a bitter taste in your mouth when you thought about it.

“You’re not, sweetheart,” Quaritch answers, turning back towards you once he reached his bonded companion.

The ikran was probably the most beautiful you’ve seen, even with your limited experience with the creatures. The whole body of the animal was a deep navy blue, streaks of gold and orange decorating its wings. The animal itself was gorgeous. It was ironic how someone so evil and ugly had managed to tame something so beautiful.

“Spider’s riding with me. You’ll ride with Z-Dog,” he continued, clicking his tongue towards the tall Avatar woman, gently petting his ikran as he did so.

Your eyes were torn from the navy creature in front of you to the woman. Your blood went cold as you made eye contact, her hard stare boring into your eyes as she robotically chewed at the gum in her mouth. Great, you thought, I’m definitely going to die.

“We don’t have all day, kid,” Quaritch commented, already mounted on his ikran as Spider sat in front of him, eyes worriedly scanning your figure as you stood there frozen in place.

Your eyes then drifted from the woman to her bonded companion behind her, its face gently nuzzling into her side affectionately. Your heart clenched at the sight of the animal. It looked almost identical to that of your boyfriend's ikran. Lo’ak’s was an almost dark blue, gold swirling around its neck and wings. His companion shared many similarities to the one of his Father, the only difference being the black patch on his protruding lower jaw. Memories of when Lo’ak took you out for rides on his ikran flooded your mind, making the hole in your chest double in size.

“Let’s go,” the woman said, snatching your forearm in her grip as she placed you onto the creature, placing herself behind you as she made tshaleyu with the animal. The winged creature chirped in delight at the sensation and shrieked once it readied itself to take flight, wings twitching.

You braced yourself for the ride, both hands tightening around one of the ikrans queues, thighs tensing in anticipation. The rides you had with Lo’ak were much more smoother and gentler. Lo’ak made sure to put emphasis on how he dismounted from the ground, trying to make it as smooth as possible for you. His bonded animal always complied, never rushing when he pushed off the ground and into the skies above. You found yourself missing that process as you desperately tried not to slip off the poor animal as it ascended into the blue sky. It was rough, to say the least.

Once you reached an appropriate enough altitude, Z-Dog steadied and leveled out her ikran, halting the rough turbulence you experienced moments prior. The creature chirped once again, smoothly gliding through the wind.

You always loved the feeling you got whenever you were up in the sky with Lo’ak despite your anxiety regarding heights. He always made sure that you were okay throughout the ride as well as before and after the fact. But with the stranger you were assigned to, you found yourself wanting to hurl in anxiousness. You only hoped that this was going to be a quick and fast flight to wherever the hell you were heading to.

———

The minute you stepped into the small room the tulkun hunters had allowed you to occupy during your stay, you fell to your knees. Sobs racked your body as your mind replayed the scenes that you witnessed only minutes prior. Arriving at the Ta’unui village. The gathering of their people like they were sheep to slaughter. Quaritch threatening the Tsahik and Olo’eyktan of the clan. Lyle shooting and killing a sea creature on his Colonel’s order. The burning of the peoples homes. The killing of a Mother tulkun. It all kept replaying in your head, even when you moved to the even smaller shower.

You tried so hard to rid of the memories in your head, of the smell on your skin, of the guilt you felt. You rubbed at your skin until it was raw and hot and bleeding. The permanent reminder of just what your race is capable of slamming to the forefront of your mind. It all felt wrong. It feels wrong being here. Feels wrong to live on Pandora where its native species had to experience the pain and constant attempts of colonization from a different species. It all felt like you were contributing to whatever Quaritch had in mind. Even if he didn’t tell you any details, you still chose to come along. Maybe staying behind with Captain Ardmore would’ve been a better option. After all, it wouldn’t have mattered if you were alive or not at the end of it for you already felt dead inside. Nothing and no one would be able to bring you comfort from what you just saw and gone through.

“(Y/N)?” A familiar voice asked, it cracking from the amount of emotion the owner felt.

“Spider,” you whispered, curling in on yourself as you saw his figure standing in your doorway, tears streaming down his face.

The boy made his way to your bed, laying on it, facing you on his side. Not a word was uttered between you two, not needing any to communicate the type of comfort you both seeked from each other. And you stayed like that, facing each other and grasping onto each other's hands for comfort as you unknowingly fell asleep, slumber welcoming you into its embrace. But even your dreams weren’t a safe place. You dreamt of fire, of blood, and of death the whole night.

Maybe Neytiri was right. You should’ve never befriended the Sully children. You should’ve stuck to your own kind.

———

The second Lo’ak heard that a boy and a girl had been with Quaritch and his team during their attack on a nearby village, he began to ready his ilu for the trip. For getting you back.

The boy had paced back and forth from the edge of the mauri to his swimming companion, bending down to slip on the various of saddles the animal needed for riding. The creature chirped up at him every time Lo’ak bent down, seemingly encouraging him as he did so.

“What are you doing?” A voice asked, confusion laced in their tone. Lo’ak knew who it was before they even spoke. His Sa’nok had a bad habit of sneaking up on everyone, being too quiet for her own good. The hairs on the back of his head always stood up on end whenever he felt his Mothers presence behind him, alerting him of the potential rage he was going to face from the woman.

“To save them,” Lo’ak mumbled, too focused on saddling the right equipment on his companion, fiddling with the straps as he tightened them. The boy knew that his parents never really cared for either of your well-beings, it being evident in their body language and actions whenever he or Kiri talked about the things they did with the pair of you that particular day. If they weren’t willing to save you, then Lo’ak would take it upon himself to. He finally knew where you were after months of not knowing and he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to have you in his arms again.

A growl emitted itself from his Mothers lips, her hand coming out to grip her son's bicep into her grasp, “Kehe!”.

Neytiri didn’t know why her son was so infatuated with you, a tawtute. She was always against her children from befriending you and Spider, glaring at your figures everytime you walked by at High Camp. Her son seemed to be closer with you than Spider. The fact always bothered her, making her skin crawl with anger. Angry that you were occupying her son's time when he could be doing other things, meeting other people, and talking to other appropriate women of the clan.

“You will not,” she continued, scowl painted onto her face as she glared down at her son. She knew that if Lo’ak were to continue with his plan and make it to wherever you were, that Quaritch wouldn’t hesitate to shoot or take him prisoner. She couldn’t have that. Neytiri needed all of her children within eyesight so she could look over them and make sure that they were safe. She wouldn’t be able to do that if her son went to you.

Lo’ak growled back at his Mother, ripping his arm out from her tight grip. The boy had his mind made up and nobody was going to stop him. He needed to get to you. He needed you.

“I will. Why do you even care? You haven’t bothered to talk to me the whole time here. The only time you talk to me is to yell or scold me for doing yet another thing wrong,” Lo’ak hissed out, teeth tightly clenched. “(Y/N) and Spider care about me more than you ever have!” He added, whole body shaking in anger.

Neytiri gasped at her sons exclaimation, lightly hissing at him, “How dare you think that? I love you, Lo’ak. But they, they do not! They are demons! They aren’t capable of such things as love.”

Lo’ak’s ears drew back to press up against his skull and his lips drew up to show off his pointed fangs, a very loud hiss escaping from between his teeth. The hiss sounded almost roar-like, drawing attention from inside the Sully mauri, ears and tails perking up in interest.

Another gasp escaped from Neytiri’s throat. Her son had never hissed at her like that. Sure he had hissed at her playfully when he was younger or out of annoyance whenever she tried to get him to open up to her. But he had never hissed at her so…possessively. The only time she had heard a roar like this was when her husband was fighting off Quaritch during the Great Battle and he threatened everything he worked so hard to build during his time in the Avatar program.

“They do! She loves me. She’s capable of it and so much more. But you are too stubborn and stuck in your ways to see her the way I do. She cares for me, loves me. That I know,” Lo’ak grumbled out, fangs seeming to get even longer as he brewed in his anger. “I see her and she sees me. Something you and Dad never do,” he finished, turning away from his Mother as he reached out to grab the final thing he needed for his ride to you.

“What do you mean, Lo’ak?” Neytiri asked, anger laced in her voice. She knew what he was insinuating, but she needed to hear it come from his mouth. To confirm her suspicions. To confirm or deny what she had been thinking for years.

“I mean that she is mine. She is the only thing that I was ever able to have. I see her. She has taken me heart, body, and soul,” he slightly hisses out, not daring to look at his Mother as he spoke. He knew that once the confession of his sins slipped from his lips, there was no telling what his Mother would do. He didn’t want to be in the crossfire once she decided to act upon whatever she was feeling, her not being a top priority in his life at the moment. You were the priority and he’d be damned if anyone stopped him from getting to you.

“No,” Neytiri whispers, “You did not. Tell me you didn’t!”.

There were many things that his Mother could be referring to, but he was pretty sure he knew what she was hinting at. It was something that he had planned on doing with you once he properly courted you and way further into the future. But, nothing ever goes according to plan in Lo’ak’s life. The first time you guys had engaged in such an act was months before you were taken hostage. You had never been to the Tree of Souls, it being nearly impossible for you to get to without proper assistance. Lo’ak had decided to take you to it as a surprise on your weekly date night. The two of you had been dating for a while but never went as far as kissing or wondering hands against skin. It all happened so fast. One minute Lo’ak was describing the connection to you, how it all worked and the next, you were under him squirming and calling out his name in pleasure. He knew that once such an act was done, he’d be tied to you forever. That in the eyes of the Great Mother you two were mates and forever bound to one another’s souls. After that, the two of you often found yourselves engaging to be together. Lo’ak felt as if it was another way he could feel connected to you without being able to perform tshaleyu. He never took the act for granted and always put your pleasure before his, worshiping every inch of your body before you could do the same to him.

Her sons silence was Neytiri’s answer resulting in her loudly hissing at her youngest son, almost matching Lo’ak’s moments prior. That was the final straw to have Jake interfere between his arguing son and wife.

“You gave yourself to her? To a demon? Agh! Shame! You have brought shame upon this family and yourself. You tainted yourself with a human. Someone who can’t give you a future!” She yelled out, angry tears running down the expanse of her cheeks. Intercourse before mating wasn’t something that was taboo in the Omatikaya culture, but it was expected of the Olo’eyktan and his family to save themselves before then, demonstrating their loyalty to the people and their future spouse. So to hear her son, the second born of the Olo’eyktan, engage in such an intimate act with a human nonetheless, made her want to pluck his eyes out from the sockets that held them.

“Woah! Woah! Hey!” Jake said, jumping in between his son and wife before either of them could jump at each other's throat. His front faced Neytiri while his back faced his son. “Hey! What’s going on?” He gently asked, bringing his wife’s face into his hands as he tried to get her to focus his attention on him and not Lo’ak.

“Your son has mated with a demon!” She spat out, disgust interlaced in her tone. The way she felt towards the situation was evident enough on her face. Her lips were drawn back to flash her fangs and her nose was scrunched as if she just smelt a pile of Palulukan dung.

Jake froze at the words his wife spat, eyes darting to his son behind him. Although he froze at the words, he wasn’t surprised. He had a feeling that you and Lo’ak were more than just friends. He often caught his son gently rubbing at the marks you left on his skin during dinner, a smirk dancing across his youngests lips. Jake’s not stupid. He was Lo’ak’s age once and understood the urges he faced. But, he was human then and the Na’vi have a completely different way of thinking and going about things like this.

Jake didn’t question Lo’ak about whether or not what Neytiri said was true, already knowing the answer. He only sighed in response and tried to coax his wife to calm down.

“Go back in the house, son. Now,” Jake demanded, shooting him a look that told him he wasn’t taking a no for an answer.

Lo’ak wanted to argue and continue with his plan on rescuing you, but he knew that his pleading would be worthless, especially after his confession. So, he begrudgingly desaddled his ilu and made his way into the pod, ignoring the looks of his siblings as he made his way to his side of the house, throwing something against the woven wall before settling down in the corner. Tears left his eyes as he sat there. He was frustrated. All he wanted to do was see and hold you, but it seemed as if Eywa wasn’t on his side once again.

Why Great Mother? Why do you do this to me?

His heart further broke at the fact that you, yet again, slipped through his fingers. It seemed as if the whole universe was against the two of you. But, the universe be damned. Lo’ak was going to get you back no matter what it took. He’d burn down villages for you, destroy planets for you. He’d do anything for you.

———

“They found out?” A soft voice asks, pulling Lo’ak out from his zoning out episode.

He only hummed in response, eyes puffy from all the crying he did that night. His Mother screamed and cried at him after she talked to Jake, calling him what everyone else does, a disappointment. He desperately tried to get her to understand how he felt about you and how much he cared for you. He wouldn’t fall in love with just anyone, so you had to be very special to be the one to hold his heart.

Neteyam had been the one to comfort him that night as Jake and Kiri consoled Neytiri, trying to get her to calm down so she didn’t disturb any other Metkayina trying to sleep or seek shelter from the storm. It had been the first time in years that Neteyam had held Lo’ak in his arms, turning him away from the sight of their Sa’nok as the elder practically held the younger in his lap. Neteyam felt bad that their Mother was acting like this. Like she too hadn’t fallen in love with a tawtute. No matter how long Jake stayed on the planet and mingled with the natives, he would always be a human at heart. It’s hard to break out of old habits and it seemed as if their Father began to fall back into his sky people ways as of recent.

( “It’s okay, tsmukan,” Neteyam had whispered, Lo’ak barely hearing over the dramatic wails of his Mother. The boy had long been done with his crying, just blankly staring at the anklet wrapped around his foot. The last remaining thing he had of you.

“She doesn’t understand,” the older brother continued, stroking Lo’ak’s braids with such a gentleness, he thought for a second that it was you who was holding him. He only ever experienced such a gentle touch with you. It felt wrong that it wasn’t. That it was coming from his brother and not you.

“She does not,” Lo’ak confirmed, burying himself further into his brothers body, actively seeking his warmth to combat the shaking of his own body. “She never will,” he continued, eyes hardened to a glare as he stared at the intricately woven floor. She will never understand, he thought to himself, anger and sadness erupting in his chest. )

“A lot of the people heard your Mother last night,” Tsireya spoke up, sitting next to the dark blue boy. She felt bad for the teen. To be in love with someone you could never have must be heart wrenching. “I am sorry she acted the way she did. I hope she soon comes to the realization that you do truly love her,” she continued, trying to offer up the best comfort she could.

“I don’t think my Dad cared. Probably already knew before I told them. But,” he croaked out, voice coming out coarse as a result from his crying the night prior, “He didn’t do anything to stop Mom from saying those things about her, about me.”.

Having his Father allow his wife to continually insult his lover and him had made Lo’ak bitter. How come he wasn’t able to defend the one he loved but it was alright for Neytiri to throw such hurtful words to her own son? It all seemed hypocritical, backwards.

Tsireya frowned at Lo’ak’s words. She truly felt bad for him. She didn’t think that it was fair for his own Mother to react that harshly to the news. Didn’t she too fall in love with a human? It didn’t make sense to her.

“Oh, Lo’ak, I’m so sorry,” she whispered out, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder in hopes to comfort him.

Nothing about this situation was ideal. Lo’ak wasn’t able to go and rescue you from the clutches of the RDA. Neytiri had scolded and reprimanded her youngest son for being in love, calling him all sorts of colorful names in the process. Jake hadn’t done anything to prevent his wife from her onslaught of scowls and hisses towards their son. The whole clan now probably knew about how Lo’ak was a sky demon lover. And Tsireya is the one comforting the boy when it should be his own family that we’re bringing him solace. It all became a mess so fast, everything crumbling down towards the ground within seconds.

Lo’ak only hummed in response to Tsireya’s sympathetic tone, too tired to give her an actual response. His eyes were bloodshot from all the tears he’s expelled over night. Lo’ak’s face was practically swollen from how hard he cried last night. He looked like a complete mess.

Eywa had to be punishing him for something for the deity that he grew up hearing about wouldn’t have allowed any of this to happen. Was it really that bad that Lo’ak loved you? That he loved a human? Surely the Great Mother held all of her children dear to her heart. So, why was she letting this happen? What was the bigger picture? What was the reason? Lo’ak wanted to know the answers to these questions so he could figure out why it was so wrong to love you when it felt so right to.

———

Pain spread throughout your lower back and hip, becoming warm as the nerve endings communicated with each other and the crushed blood cells came to the surface of your delicate skin. The minute Spider hijacked the ship and the vehicle surged forward, your body made harsh contact with the metal table in the middle of the room and the floor once it crashed amongst the jagged rocks.

“(Y/N)! You okay?” The human boy yelled out, scrambling up to his feet to get to your position against the floor.

A groan was your only answer, pulling yourself up the best you could before the soldiers and ship crew could grab you. You could feel the bruises already forming on your soft skin, heat spreading throughout the areas.

“Get them off the ship!” A voice demanded, catching your attention. Your heart dropped to your stomach upon hearing the words. They were going to take you somewhere farther from Lo’ak once more. Although you hadn’t gone down with Spider to see him and the others being held hostage at the front of the ship, you still didn’t want to be taken somewhere else where you most likely wouldn’t be able to see him again.

Hands wrapped themselves around your biceps, roughly pulling you up from where you kneeled, guiding you to the exit.

“Let go of me!” You hissed, ripping your arms from out of the strangers grip just in time to catch the mask being thrown at you by another.

“Put it on,” they demanded, putting on their own mask before looking at you as you put yours on, a scowl on your face as you did so.

The same person pushed you forward in front of them, urging you to walk forwards and down the metal stairs. You desperately wanted to push whoever was in front of you down the stairs and run towards wherever they were keeping Lo’ak and the rest. You only wanted to see him and make sure that he was okay. That he was still breathing.

“Make sure it’s tight,” a man commented, tugging on the side of your mask.

“She’s fine, dumbass,” Spider spat, pushing the man’s hand away from your masked face, putting himself between the man and you.

The man before you both scoffed and continued forward, leading the two of you somewhere on the ship where they kept their smaller boats.

Spider could sense your apprehension, grabbing your hand as the group of you continued to walk along the metal surface of the ship, shaking his head down at you as he dragged you besides him. He knew what you wanted to do, he wanted to do the same, but he knew that if you gave into that urge, they wouldn’t hesitate to shoot either of you on the spot. He needed to keep you safe not just for Lo’ak’s sake but for himself too. You were his lifeline throughout this whole awful experience. Your presence itself helped him in more ways than one whenever he felt himself start to slip through the cracks while with Quaritch and Ardmore. If the two of you were going to make it out this afternoon, he needed you safe and alive.

Another man had exclaimed for the group to hurry up before the last of the boats left without them, getting cut off at the end of his sentence with a sharp exhale and groan as his body was thrown up against the wall of the ship.

Two large blue bodies had dropped down from above, pushing and punching the human men surrounding you and Spider, effectively killing them as they jumped from body to body.

“Lo’ak,” you whispered out, Spider pulling your back into his chest, away from Neteyam and Lo’ak, being wary of their size and strength.

A smile painted itself across your lips once the familiar amber eyes you dearly missed made contact with your colorful ones, time seemingly coming to a halt as the both of you took in each other's presence.

Lo’ak seemed to have filled out a bit, his biceps and thighs much larger than they were the last time you saw them. His hair was pulled back, showing off his sharpened jawline and defined shoulders and collarbones. Back in the forest, he rarely ever had his hair up, preferring it down so your fingers could have easy access to them whenever you wanted to run your smaller hands through the braids. His midsection seemed slimmer and tighter, displaying his developing abs along his stomach. Lo’ak seemed more confident in his physique as he stood there in front of you. You could practically feel it oozing off of him. The reef clan must’ve prioritized his training during his stay, you concluded.

As you gawked at the significant changes to your boyfriend's physical body, he too had his eyes glued to your figure.

Although much hadn’t changed, you still looked beautiful as ever. You had your hair down, different from your typical braid or usual hairstyle. You deemed having your hair out of your face more practical during your time in the forest. It just made everything easier as you explored and ran about. Due to Ardmore’s negligence to your physical needs, you figured it was easier to have your hair down most of the time, having no energy to do it yourself when she gave you a break from her torturous pursuits. Your hair had gotten longer during your time away from each other, inches longer than it previously was. It framed your face beautifully Lo’ak thought, smiling at you.

But before either of you could run to each other and embrace, a soldier had begun to stir and get up, a gun clutched in his grasp.

Lo’ak whipped his head towards the noise, bringing up the gun in his right hand up without thinking, finger squeezing the trigger as multiple rounds of bullets penetrated the human in front of him. The man slumped back, falling dead to the floor.

The air then became tense, the moment processing in everyone’s head for a second. Then, Neteyam had gently grabbed Lo’ak’s forearm and urged him forward, walking backwards as Spider pushed you in front of him, following the Na’vi boy.

The two boys in front of you had effortlessly jumped down from the top of the stairs to the ground below, swiftly standing up from their crouch afterwards. Sensing your hesitation, Lo’ak wrapped his free arm around your waist and followed after his brother and Spider, holding you close to his side as he jumped down from the height. He only let go of your waist once you regained your bearings.

“Hello, ma sìlpeytsyìp,” Lo’ak whispers, free hand going up to your bare neck, softly grazing his thumb against the delicate skin.

“Hello, Lo’ak,” you whisper back, a smile on your face as you gazed at your lover. Oh how you wished you didn’t need this stupid mask so you could capture his lips with yours.

You missed the boy in front of you so much. It was hard to endure all those months away from each other. He consumed every single thought you had. So to have him in front of you, alive and breathing and not a figment of your imagination, made you want to crawl into his large arms and stay there forever.

Your small moment was interrupted by Spider, him exclaiming a thank you so much man as he turned towards the Na’vi teens.

Lo’ak had tore his eyes away from yours, staring at Spider as he thanked him and Neteyam for saving both of your asses back there. The blue boy smiled at his friend, going to express his welcome but his smile dropped as he saw the same Avatar soldiers from that night come into view, aiming their guns towards the group of teens.

As Lo’ak perked up to shoot at the familiar fake Avatars, Neteyam pulled him back just as quickly, ushering him and the lot of you to run and dodge the bullets as they fired and ricocheted off the railings and other obstacles between you and them.

“Go! Go!” Neteyam exclaimed, pushing the three of you towards a corner by the moonpool, snatching Lo’ak’s gun with a give me that!.

The older Na’vi began to shoot back at the soldiers shooting at you four, shouting at all of you to hurry and jump into the water beneath the opening in front of you. Before you could process Neteyam’s words, Lo’ak took you into his arms and rushed towards the moonpool, jumping over the railing and into the water. Cool water splashed against your body and sealed mask, making you involuntarily hold your breath as a reflex.

Upon breaching the surface, you exhaled the air you held, realizing that there was no need for you to hold it.

“That was insane cuz!” Lo’ak exclaimed, high-fiving Spider as he hollered back an excited hell yeah!. His arm around you had slipped from its grasp in order to hand out the high-five he gave Spider.

The three of you just narrowly escaped death and Lo’ak was hollering in delight from the adrenaline rush. Well, you thought, at least the sea didn’t change that about him.

The hairs on your skin stood on end once you heard the gurgle of Neteyam’s first gasp of breath after following you and the boys, diving into the water. Your body instinctively knew that something bad was bound to happen and you could only pray to Eywa that this wasn’t happening.

Everyone’s world stopped on its axis once Neteyam announced that he’d been shot, struggling to keep himself upright in the water. It was as if his own acknowledgment of being shot stripped him of his refined swimming skills, limbs not being able to keep up with the blood loss and shock of the event.

You were the first one by the boys side after the words fell from his lips, trying to help keep him afloat in the water. “It’s okay, Teyam,” you whispered, head barely above the water's surface as you kept the boy upright, “You’ll be okay.”.

You knew that your words were only empty promises. That realistically, Neteyam wasn’t going to make it. No amount of comforting whispers were going to cover up that fact or bring the boy some kind of solace from death's icy grip.

“Here! Get him up on here,” an unfamiliar voice exclaimed, drawing your attention from Neteyam to the owner.

A beautiful Na’vi girl had broke the surface of the water with a strange creature by her side. She gestured for you and the rest to get Neteyam up onto the animal so you could transport him somewhere where he could be helped.

The strange girls eyes fell on you, making your stomach drop and breath hitch in your throat. She must be of the clan that harbored the Sully family, you thought to yourself as you studied her much lighter blue skin and enchanting ocean blue eyes. Really pretty too.

“C’mon bro,” Lo’ak stuttered out, taking Neteyam out from your grip and into his, swimming towards the girl and her creature.

Spider had pulled you out from your stupor, tugging on your hand as he swam the both of you towards the group, grabbing the side of the creatures saddle as it readied itself to surge forward in the water. The boys hand had let go of your hand and went to grab your waist, pulling you flush to his side in preparation for the resistance of the water once the creature got the okay to take off. Your own hands wrapped themselves around Spider’s neck, muscles in your arms tightening in preparation as well.

Once Lo’ak situated Neteyam onto the creature behind him, he urged the animal to go forward through the bond, it hurriedly gliding through the water as it pushed against the current and new added weight on all sides.

You knew that once the five of you left the scene and headed towards somewhere else, everything was going to change. That it was all downhill from here.

———

Your hands were caked in blood. In Neteyam’s blood.

The red substance ran up your wrists and stopped at your mid forearm. The skin that was covered in it felt like it was on fire. It burned.

Your small hands that were desperately trying to slow down the blood pouring out of the boys chest were replaced by Lo’ak’s, his bigger body pushing you out of the way once Jake noticed your useless efforts and demanded his second son to replace your hands with his.

Tears spewed out from your waterline, falling down your cheeks and gathering at the bottom of your mask. Your throat burned from your suppression of sobs, desperately trying to escape from your sealed lips. You didn’t feel worthy crying and sobbing over the fatally injured boy in front of you. It was your fault he was shot. Indirectly or not, if Neteyam and Lo’ak didn’t come back for you and Spider, then he’d be fine and not bleeding out in front of his family. He wouldn't be laid dying in front of you.

You felt familiar, calloused hands wrapped themselves around your frame, bringing your body into their own.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Spider lowly whispered, bringing your face into his neck as you let out a quiet sob, leaning into his embrace. He knew that you were on the brink of breaking down and knew that you were keeping it in so as to not disturb the Sully family in their growing mourning. He saw the way Lo’ak pushed his way between you and Neteyam’s dying body, replacing your hands with his own against his brothers open chest. He knew that no one else around you would comfort you in the way that you needed, so he scurried to your side and brought you into his arms for the comfort that you craved.

You’ve never seen someone die. You’ve never seen someone die right in front of you. Your brain was scrambling to gather itself and process what was happening. But it was as if your brain couldn’t gather all the working pieces it needed and abandoned you in your own body, leaving you to pick up the pieces yourself and try to process what was happening.

Your body began to shiver as shock and adrenaline coursed through your veins, making your quiet sobs even harder to contain and actually keep silent.

The minute your ears picked up on Neytiri’s high pitched wails and screams, you knew that Neteyam had taken his last breath and finally joined Eywa in his afterlife. From that moment on, everything went by in a flash.

Neytiri, Jake, and Spider had left back towards the ship for a reason your ears didn’t pick up on, still ringing in the aftershocks of Neytiri’s screams. The Na’vi woman left on her ikran, it screeching as she made tshaleyu. The both of them took off in a blur from the speed of the animals ascent. Spider left you with a gentle kiss on the forehead and a promise that he’ll come back, smoothing down your damp hair before following after Jake. And Lo’ak. He only spared you a small glance before telling the reef Na’vi girl to stay with Neteyam’s body, gently patting her cheek before he hurried off to follow his Father and Spider.

Even though your mind struggled to process and piece together what just happened, it was still able to process the soft touch Lo’ak bestowed upon the girl in front of you and the sympathetic look he gave her before he left. How she reached out for him as he walked away and the look on her face as she watched. Oh.

Your heart broke at the realization. Lo’ak finally found someone that was suitable for him. Someone that was able to give him the future he deserved. Someone that was able to give him everything you couldn’t. And more tears fell from your eyes, heart crying out at the heartbreak.

Neytiri was right. You should’ve stayed with your own kind.

———

You didn’t stay long for Neteyam’s funeral. As soon as it ended, you treaded your way out of the water and walked somewhere secluded.

It was too much being there. It was hard watching Jake and Neytiri place their eldest son down onto the orange glowing tendrils. It was hard watching him be absorbed by them, disappearing into the glowing mass. Guilt riddled your consciousness, yelling at you that you shouldn’t be there. That it was your fault that he was with Eywa now. That you took away Jake and Neytiri’s firstborn son from their grasp too soon. You felt that your presence itself was a reminder as to why Neteyam was no longer breathing.

So, you sat yourself in a secluded area on the small island, situating yourself between the large rocks that perfectly hid your smaller frame. You didn’t want anyone disturbing you, especially Lo’ak. You didn’t think you’d be able to face him again after tonight.

“You suck at sneaking away, you know that right?” A soft voice spoke out, making you jump in response from its abrupt reveal. You had been sitting in silence for a couple of minutes before you were interrupted.

Turning your head, you saw Kiri standing there, face still painted in the white substance her Mother lathered onto her face before attending her elder brother's funeral. She held a small smile in your presence, leaning down to properly sit by your side.

You only hum and nod your head in response, turning your gaze back towards the lapping waves against the soft sand of the shoreline. You felt unworthy of the girl's presence. Like you shouldn’t stare at her for too long or else Eywa would strike you down with lightning for it. Unworthy of still being her friend even after what had occurred hours prior.

“I do not blame you, (Y/N),” she spoke up, large amber eyes glued to the side of your face. “None of us do. It was not your doing for what happened that night. You were not the one with the gun,” she continued, her blue five-fingered hand coming to rest up against your shoulder in comfort.

Growing up, Kiri always knew what you were feeling by just seeing the expression on your face. It was a bit weird growing up. She knew what you felt even before you could process it yourself. But, oftentimes, you were grateful for someone like Kiri. For someone who knew you so deeply that they didn’t need words to confirm how you felt. She just knew.

Kiri did truly mean the words she spoke. She did not think that Neteyam’s death was yours nor Spiders' doing. You two were just kids who were taken hostage and desperately needed saving. You are just kids. Your whole lives were a cause of an unfortunate event but that doesn’t mean that everything bad that happens to her family and to the other natives of Pandora were solely you and Spider's fault. The two of you shouldn’t carry that heavy burden.

“But, if Lo’ak and Neteyam didn’t come after us – ” you sputtered, tears already welling in your waterline as your throat began to tighten with emotion.

The Na’vi girl knew where you were coming from. What your thought process was and how you felt. A perk of being one of your good friends she supposed.

“But nothing, (Y/N),” she cut you off, voice firm and absolute. There was no way you were going to change her mind about the situation at hand. It wasn’t your fault. Period.

“Neteyam and Lo’ak chose to come after you and Spider. They both knew of the consequences that came with following after you. No one except Quaritch and his men are to blame,” she said with finality, not needing you to further intrude on what she said. No matter how hard you’d try to convince her that it was your fault, she wouldn’t believe you. Her mind had already been made up and you weren’t the one to blame.

Only more tears began to gather and spill from your eyes at your friend's words. It was nice to hear that she, and most likely everyone else, didn’t blame you for what happened. But it didn’t help ease the guilt you felt. Nothing could aid in the guilt you felt deep within. Perhaps with time it would go away, but even then, you highly doubted that.

“Lo’ak still loves you if that is what’s causing this worry,” Kiri whispered out, only loud enough for you to hear just in case anyone else was wandering around.

During their stay at Awa’atlu, Kiri could tell that your absence had deeply disturbed her younger brother. It was evident in everything he did. Lo’ak always had a frown on his face and found excuses to pick fights with Ao’nung and his gang of friends. It was like he didn’t have a reason to behave accordingly or live anymore. Like his sense of self was lost when you were taken by Quaritch and his soldiers. He desperately missed you and she could tell that the only thing he wanted to do was get you back and have you in his arms once again.

Your stomach turned in knots and your heart stopped at Kiri’s comment. Did he really? What about the girl that helped you that night?

“I – I’m not too sure about that. What about the girl?” You asked, face damp with tears. You saw how Lo’ak treated her that night. How he gently put his hand on her cheek and how she reached out for him with a call of his name before leaving the both of you on that rock with Neteyam’s body. How he barely spared you a glance before leaving.

You were confident that he had finally found the one the Great Mother had destined him to be with. You knew that your time together was limited, the clock starting the minute you confessed your feelings to the teen boy. It broke your heart seeing him act that way with her but you knew that he’d eventually come to his senses about you and want to pursue a Na’vi who could actually give him the future he deserved. If anything, you were pleased that he found someone like him. He would no longer be held back by you.

“What? What girl? What are you talking about?” Kiri asked, shock and concern laced within her voice. She knew that Lo’ak was too in love with you to look at anyone else the way he looked at you. So your words confused her immensely. Why did you think he no longer saw you?

The blue girl ransacked her brain for the girl you were insinuating Lo’ak was into. She kept drawing blanks, until her mind settled onto the one person that was a great comfort to Lo’ak during their stay.

“You mean Tsireya?” She asked, a barely audible giggle coming out of her mouth.

To be frank, Kiri found the situation a little funny. Lo’ak was such a lovesick puppy for you that he often refused to talk to anyone who wasn’t you. He continuously asked about you before the two of you got together, always bothering Kiri as she made her way back from the lab. He also handmade many jewelry pieces for you, even if he sucked at it and needed Tuk’s help. Why would you think his affections would change that fast?

“She’s pretty,” you hum, eyes still glued on the moving waves in the distance. Really pretty. “She’s good for him, Ri. She’d be able to give him the future he deserves. Plus, Neytiri would actually like her. It was never in the cards for us,” you finished, voice now eerily calm and void of the sadness you expressed earlier.

Kiri’s mouth fell agape at your words, eyes widening to the size of yovo fruit. What the fuck?

“(Y/N), you cannot mean that. Tsireya and Lo’ak are only friends. That’s all,” she began, trying her best to save you from your overwhelming thoughts before they consumed you whole. “He still loves you. Please believe that,” she pleaded.

You finally tore your gaze from the water and up towards the glowing amber orbs of your friend. “He left me there, Kiri. All alone with no goodbye. Barely even glanced my way before he followed after Spider and Jake,” you confessed, heart breaking all over again at the memory. It was hours before they all returned to the rock. Spider was the only one to comfort you as Lo’ak was too busy with Tsireya. The rest of the family barely even spared you a glance as they pulled each other into an embrace.

Oh, Kiri thought, ears pinning to the sides of her head. Did she interpret Lo’ak and Tsireya’s body language wrong? Were they more than friends?

Neither of you uttered another word, sitting peacefully side by side as the two of you listened to the soothing sound of the lapping waves against the shore. A war was occurring within your head and walls were built to protect you from the oncoming grenades you were sure would be thrown at you by your lover once he confessed that he was no longer in love with you. If you could even call him yours anymore.

From afar, the subject of your conversation was watching the two of you converse. He so desperately wanted to run to you and gather you into his arms and keep you there forever. But, he knew that you were no longer his. He saw how Spider treated you so gently. How he placed a kiss on the crown of your head before scurrying away to lead Jake to the ship. How he was the first one to comfort you when they arrived, beating him in embracing you and soothing you as you sobbed against his bleeding chest. And even though his heart was breaking at the possibility of you no longer loving him, he only wanted you to be happy and if that was with Spider, then he’d let you go.

———

Days had passed since your conversation with Kiri. She had never left your side since, wanting to be there for you as you navigated your grief and heartbreak. Your words still stunned the poor girl. She was sure that you were wrong but she would admit that it was awfully suspicious the amount of times she saw Lo’ak and Tsireya together. And always seeing them together, especially after you pointed it out, didn’t help. Kiri was so sure of her brothers love for you that she nearly laughed in your face once those words left your mouth. But, she too began to doubt the affections her younger brother held for you.

Kiri often spent most of her time around you, but during the times she wasn’t able to, Tuktirey had no problem keeping you company.

“No! You’re doing it wrong,” Tuk exclaimed, groaning over your lack of weaving skills.

The young girl had been attempting to teach you the new way of weaving she had learned during her time on the island. She was so excited to show you what she had learned over the months that she nearly crushed your smaller, human body in a tight hug upon hearing your agreement. The young girl profusely apologized when she heard your panicked wheeze against her collarbone, quickly getting to work after.

“I’m sorry, TukTuk. Weaving’s never really been my thing,” you apologize, gently smiling at the child next to you. She was so excited to show you how to weave the Metkayina way, her eyes practically glowed in excitement once you agreed.

“It’s not your fault, (Y/N). I struggled with it too for some time. It just takes practice,” she responded, a large gummy smile directed your way. “Plus, that just means I can make you more!” She added, trying to lift up your dampened mood.

It seemed as if everything bothered you these days. Like everything was a reminder as to why you’d never be good enough for the secondborn Omatikaya prince. A reminder of the things you couldn’t give Lo’ak. Of the things you couldn’t do to please your mate. Weaving was a huge part of the Omatikaya culture, allowing one to express their gratitude and affection towards their intended. Something that you lacked severe skill in. Sure you could make a few bracelets here and there but it was nothing compared to those of the native Omatikaya who put so much effort into their weaving, going as far as making their own unique weave pattern for their beloved. Even though you wanted to refuse Tuktirey’s plea, for it was another painful reminder that you could never have Lo’ak, you still accepted it and endured the emotional turmoil you experienced. You wouldn’t allow your own feelings to stump Tuk’s happiness and eagerness to share with you something new she learned.

“You can make me as many as you want, Tuk,” you replied, a small smile gracing your lips as you gently patted her head, ruffling her hair in the process. The young girl shrieked at your action, pushing your hand away from her freshly braided hair, giggling afterwards.

You desperately missed moments like these during your captivity. You missed playing around with the Sully children and hearing Tuk’s high pitched giggle as she ran away from your hands as you reached out to tickle her. You missed Kiri’s wise words as she spoke about whatever came to mind. You missed Lo’ak’s comforting embrace as he enveloped you into his arms whenever you needed it. You missed Neteyam’s kind nature, helping you out whenever you found yourself falling behind. You’d always miss Neteyam, his absence another reminder as to why you would never be enough for the one you loved.

A loud cough from the doorway of the marui pod broke you and Tuk out of your giggling fit, both of you whipping your heads to the figure standing in front of the opening. Your heart dropped at who was in front of you.

“Mom!” Tuktirey squealed, jumping up to her feet and towards her sa’nok.

You could tell that Neytiri wasn’t excited about your presence, her hardened glare never leaving your face even as she bent down to embrace her youngest child. Over the course of the days following Neteyam’s funeral, Neytiri was colder towards you and Spider. She rarely ever let her children see you and often fought with Jake on this matter. She always argued about the same thing. How you and Spider weren’t good for her children. How the both of you deserved to be with your people. How you bring nothing but pain to this family. That if Jake never took the both of you in, they wouldn’t be in the position. You heard most of what she was yelling about almost every night, your shared guilt with Spider growing evermore.

“I…uh…I think I should get going Tuk. I just remembered that Kiri wanted to show me around somewhere,” you awkwardly said, smiling at the young girl before quickly heading out, barely giving her enough time to say her goodbyes to you.

You sped walk out from the Sully’s pod and onto the soft sand of Awa’atlu. You knew that you were no longer welcomed in Neytiri’s presence and you respected her wishes by excusing yourself and making your way out. It was the least you could do considering all that she went through.

Hours passed by with you sitting in the same place Kiri found you days prior, just thinking. Something that you found yourself doing way too often. It was hard to get out of your head and even harder for others to help you out of it. Most days, Spider wasn’t even able to help you with your problem and he almost always was able to save you from your own mind. Today was no exception regarding getting yourself stuck in your head and going around in circles.

“(Y/N)?” A soft voice asked, effectively pulling you out from your stupor.

Your eyes shifted from where they were glued to onto the person standing next to you, making your whole body tense and stomach churn in anxiety. Tsireya.

The light blue Na’vi girl stood in front of you with a look of concern etched on her face. Her skin was covered in a thin line of droplets, a clear sign she had just came back from a swim. You wondered if she felt bad for you and approached you out of pity. If Lo’ak had told her about your past together and if she was approaching you to inform you about their new union. If she was here to tell you about what her and the other Metkayina thought of you, preparing yourself for harsh insults and words.

“Are you okay?” She asks, sitting on her knees as she leaned forward a bit, big blue eyes practically staring into your soul.

Your eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. You were usually very careful in how your body reacted whenever you got stuck in thought. Always giving yourself time to release the tension in your body and relax before returning back to the thought you put on pause. So you were very confused as to why Tsireya was concerned with if you were okay or not.

“You just…seemed lost in thought.” She says, hands gently folding together in her lap. “I’ve noticed that your hair,” she points to your eyebrows, “come together when you’re thinking. Lo’ak does the same thing.”.

Your heart sped up at the mention of Lo’ak’s name, only for it to drop again once you realize who’s talking to you. Keep yourself in check (Y/N), you thought to yourself, you’re in the prescence of Lo’ak’s mate. Of course she knows things like that about him. You shouldn’t act like this.

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine!” You reply, a half assed smile creeping up on your lips, not quite reaching your eyes like it usually does. There was no way in hell that you’d tell Tsireya what was going on inside your head. That wasn’t a burden she needed on her shoulders.

The girl didn’t look too convinced at your response but didn’t push it further. She only nodded and continued to look at you, big eyes studying your human features. Tsireya had rarely seen you around and when she did, it was very brief before you disappeared out of sight again. So she couldn’t help but look at you as you sat there. You were very pretty, she noted. No wonder Lo’ak fell so helplessly in love with her, she thought. Your beauty was something Tsireya had never seen before.

“Tsireya!” A gruff and deep voice shouted, catching the girls attention as she turned her back towards the voice. It was her Father.

“Oh. I’m sorry (Y/N), but I have to go. I do hope you feel better soon,” she quickly said before walking away, her tail swinging gently from side to side as she strides away.

The whole encounter you had with the girl made you even more confused and sad. She was so nice to you. She gave you no reason to hate her. But you couldn’t help but feel it as she left you there, longing for the life you could never have.

———

“You’re being so sulky,” Spider murmured, arms crossed as he watched you stare at your food in front of you.

Norm and Max had cooked dinner nearly two hours ago and you were the only one who hadn’t finished your plate. You didn’t have much of an appetite these days either. You were too occupied with thinking or trying to avoid Lo’ak at all costs to properly eat. You knew it wasn’t something you should be doing but you found yourself doing it anyway.

“You haven’t even talked to him! You don’t know if it’s true or not,” he continued, sick of seeing both you and Lo’ak moping around and avoiding each other at every turn. He’s told the both of you multiple times to just talk about it but the both of you were too stubborn for your own good.

You ignored Spider’s comment, rolling your eyes at the boy besides you. You really didn’t need him meddling in your business.

Your silence was Spider’s last straw as he slammed his hands against the metal table, surprising you and making you jump back at the action. Your plate shifted and jumped in its place, the fork clattering onto the floor.

“Fine. If neither of you want to talk this out on your own, then I’ll do it for you,” he exclaimed, jumping up from his seat and hauling you up from yours by your arm.

“Are you fucking crazy?” You screamed, trying to pry Spider’s fingers off of your bicep.

He only scoffed at your response and shook his head, leading you to the entrance of the lab that sat in the secluded parts of the island, tossing you a mask before shoving you out of the metal lab and out into the Pandora air.

Shortly after the events with Quaritch and the tulkun hunters, Norm and Max had decided that it would be best if they put one of their smaller labs on Awa’atlu for the two of you. It was definitely smaller than the lab you lived in at High Camp, but you didn’t complain. At least you had somewhere to go and hide whenever you didn’t want to see Lo’ak that particular day.

“You fucker!” You shouted, banging the flat of your palm up against the glass of the door. Spider only ignored your calls from the inside, eating your untouched food. You groaned in frustration as you watched the boy simply devour your cold food.

Rustling of leaves were heard from your right, making your heart stop in its confines in anxiety. Your breath hitched in your throat as you slowly turned your head to see who or what caused the noise, especially this late at night. Your stomach dropped to the floor once you saw those familiar amber eyes peek out from behind a shrub.

“Lo’ak?” You whispered, not trusting your voice at the moment.

Upon hearing your voice, the culprit perked up, completely revealing themselves to you.

“Yawne?” He asked, unsure if he should move closer to you or stay where he was. Lo’ak had been craving to be in your presence ever since his brothers funeral. He only wanted you in his arms again and even though he had you back, he didn’t completely have you.

The two of you stood there, in front of each other for a while, neither of you daring to move closer or speak up first.

It was strange to see you after not having seen you for months. You looked the same but didn’t at the same time. Lo’ak didn’t know how he didn’t notice the first time he saw you on that ship. You looked more mature. Like you had seen or experienced something you shouldn’t have.

“How are you?” Lo’ak asks, finally breaking the awkward silence between the two of you.

You internally scoffed at that question, shaking your head as you did so. Yeah, I’m totally fine. Leaving me with your dead brother for hours didn’t do anything to me at all.

“Fine,” you answer, beginning to try to open the lab door with all your might, shaking the lock. Spider must’ve locked it from the inside or something, you thought, promising yourself that you would choke the boy out once you got back into the lab.

Lo’ak flinched at your rough voice and repetitive shaking of the door, ears drawing downwards as he watched. He’s never seen you act so violent before. Never seen you so desperate to get back into the lab. Usually, back in the forest, you’d do anything and everything to stay out of the lab for as long as you could. So to see you act the opposite made Lo’ak frown, especially since it was because he was out with you.

“Yawne,” Lo’ak tried again, taking a step closer to you before quickly drawing back as you scowled at him to stay where he was. “What is wrong? Talk to me, please,” the boy pleaded, tail falling limp between his legs.

“I told you. Nothing. Nothing is wrong,” you replied, eyes never leaving the stupid handle of the door you were trying to pry open.

Lo’ak knew you were lying. Something was most definitely wrong. He could see it in your eyes. How badly you wanted to share whatever was bothering you but something withheld you from uttering the words. It made him ever the more desperate to get you to talk to him.

The boy knew that showing up at the lab unannounced wasn’t going to get you to talk to him, especially since he too was also ignoring your existence. That he’d have to try harder in order to get you to speak with him.

“Yawne –”.

“Stop! Stop calling me that! I am not your yawne!” You shouted, ceasing your prying of the locked metal door. Hearing that term come out of his mouth made you want to cry. It made you want to scream, kick, and hit him for calling you that when you knew that he called another it. He had Tsireya to be his yawne. That was no longer a title you held.

Confusion and hurt spread itself across Lo’ak’s face, brows furrowing together in confusion. What did you mean? Why were you no longer his beloved?

“Why? Why not?” He shouted back, anger quickly arising within the teen boy. “What have I done to make you angry with me?” He asked, ears drawing further downward and pressing harder against the side of his skull.

You wanted to pull at your hair in frustration and anger. You just wanted to go inside and pass out before having to face the Sully family again. You wanted Lo’ak to leave you alone in your heartbreak. To stop haunting your dreams. To stop reminding you of the life you longed to have with him.

“Nothing and everything, Lo’ak!” You screamed, finally fed up, “You have done nothing and yet have done everything to upset me. First, you leave me with Neteyam for hours. You left me alone with the body of someone who I loved. You left me alone in my grieving. I had to wash away the blood and grime from his body as you did what? Fight Quaritch? Get Spider nearly killed? Then…then you touched her so lovingly. So gently. When you barely even spared me a glance. You comforted her and hugged her so tight to yourself that I couldn’t tell where you started and she ended.”.

“I only wanted you to comfort me. To hold me as I cried. But you were too busy with her. And I understand, Lo’ak. I do. As much as it pains me to realize and say it. I know that you and Tsireya are together, a thing. It’s as obvious as the mask that I need. And it’s okay. Really. I knew that whatever this was, it wasn’t going to last. I am human and you deserve so much more than what I can give you. I cannot give you children, make the bond with you, or even be properly considered one of the People. You deserve someone who could give you that. Give you everything and more. I mean, Tsireya is Tsakarem for crying out loud! She is much more suited to be your mate than I am, Lo’ak.”.

By the time you were finished with your speech, your chest was rising up and down dramatically, trying to gulp down air as quickly as the mask would let you. You knew that once you expressed your feelings and how you felt, it would change everything. So in order to ignore Lo’ak’s intense gaze and to prevent yourself from succumbing to the need to cry, you began your attempts at trying to open up the locked door or at least trying to get someone’s attention so they’d save you.

Your hands began to hit the door again, switching to messing with the door handle after a couple of beats pass with no one coming to your rescue.

“I confessed.” Lo’ak blurted out, desperation covered his face. His ears were fully up in alert, twitching at the sound of your hands stopping against the hard metal of the lab.

You stopped your movements, standing on the stairs of the lab in shock, trying to process the words that just came out of the boy's mouth. Confessed? What did he mean by confessed?

He needed you to know that what you were saying wasn’t true. That he wasn’t seeing Tsireya and that he’ll never see her in that light as he sees you. That his heart only held love for you and no one else. That your entire being consumed him heart, body, and soul.

“I told my Mother about us. About our relationship. About how much I love you. About how much I adore and see you. About that night at the Tree of Souls. I told her everything,” he rambled, tears clinging to his waterline as he tried to hurriedly blink them away. “She wasn’t happy about it, obviously. But, I didn’t care. I still don’t. Tsireya and I have never and will never be a thing. My heart only beats for you. My lungs only breathe for you. My body and soul only long for you. Everything is only ever for you, ma yawne. I hold so much love for you that it hurts. Did you know that the afternoon I heard of a young boy and girl being held captive at the Ta’unui clan, I almost immediately took off on my ilu to get you back? That I fought with my Sa’nok over you? That’s when I told her. Everyone heard and I don’t care that they did. I would scream out my love for you on the highest floating mountain if you asked me to. I’d do anything for you, (Y/N). Please, please believe that.”.

Lo’ak took in deep breaths once he finished his speech, desperately trying to fill his lungs with air after depriving them of it. He hoped that what he said was enough to get you to see how he felt about you, how he still felt about you. And if you didn’t, then he’d try again and again and again until he ran out of air to breathe. He needed you in his life. He didn’t care that you couldn’t bare him children or make tshaleyu with him. All he needed was you and that would be enough for all of his lifetimes.

“Lo’ak,” you croaked out, hot tears running down your cheeks and gathering at the bottom of your mask. You had no idea that he felt that strongly for you. Sure he mentioned some things from time to time but he never seemed this serious about it. You could feel the emotions of his words as they hit you square in the face.

“I don’t care if you can’t carry my children or that you can’t make the bond with me. I don’t. I only care that you’re in my life and that you love me just as much. You have been such a big part of my life for so long that I can’t imagine you not in it. Nga yawne lu oer,” Lo’ak finally finishes, kneeling on his two knees to get to your height, gently taking your softer hands in his rougher one’s.

All of the doubts you had about yourself and the relationship you had with the boy in front of you vanished the moment he touched you. Like everything else disappeared and it was only you two in the world.

“I am so sorry if it seemed like I had any interest in Tsireya, my love,” Lo’ak whispered, bringing your hands up to his lips as he pecked them with a kiss, “To be honest, I thought Spider and you were a thing as well.”.

At his confession, you bursted out laughing, not being able to hold in your reaction to the ridiculous thought.

“I know, I know,” Lo’ak tsked, shaking his head, “I had asked Spider about it and he had the same exact reaction. He wouldn’t shut up about it either, telling me how ridiculous I was for thinking such a thing. As well as how much of an idiot I was too.”.

“Well,” you hummed, taking your hands out of your boyfriends and placed them onto his blue cheeks, “I guess we’re both idiots then.”.

Lo’ak chuckled at your response, shaking his head as he finally brought you into his arms, immediately burying his head into the crook of your neck as he got a sniff of your dearly missed scent. Your arms wrapped themselves around his neck as he held you close, almost completely enveloping you in his body.

“I’m sorry for assuming,” you speak up, fingers running through Lo’ak’s braids. You felt bad for immediately assuming Lo’ak would move on that fast and get with Tsireya. You knew it wasn’t something he’d do but your overwhelming insecurities took over.

The Na’vi boy only hums, burying his head farther into your neck. “It’s okay,” he said, “I did the same. Nothing to stress about now. I got you back and that’s all that matters”.

The two of you sat there for what felt like only minutes but was hours in reality. The sun had begun to poke through the horizon, sunrise vastly approaching.

“Wanna go inside? We could spend the morning sleeping and cuddling if you want,” you suggest, eyelids getting droopy as your lack of last nights sleep began to catch up with you. You shifted your head so it laid on Lo’ak’s shoulder, yawning as you did so.

Your lover only nodded in agreement, delicately moving into the small lab and removing your mask from your face, placing a kiss on your forehead as you began to snore in Lo’ak’s arms. He smiled down at you before making his way to your established room, content with how the night turned out.

As he gently laid you in the soft bed and tucked the both of you in, he knew that he’d gladly spend the rest of his life with you so as long as you pleased. That there was no one else but you that he truly saw himself with. The teen would do anything for you, no matter what it entailed.

[moonlitstoriess]

Binding Lies- Eris Vanserra x fem!reader (mini-series) Part 1

Summary: When Y/N, Azriel’s secret half-sister who lives far away, and Eris Vanserra form a strategic contractual marriage to further their own agendas, what begins as a carefully crafted arrangement soon becomes more complicated. As they pretend to be a perfect couple, the lines between duty and desire blur, and neither is prepared for the consequences.

Next part

See masterlist

Warnings: none for now, I think.

A/n: Soo I believe that because Eris is the ultimate enemies to lovers boy, what other character would be best suited for this type of story if not him? 🤭

What was life if not a series of obligations and chains?

Eris swirled the wine in his goblet, the deep red liquid catching the firelight like blood. A fitting image, he thought grimly. Everything in the Autumn Court reeked of it—blood spilled for power, blood spilled for survival, and the invisible blood that stained every action taken under his father’s rule.

He stared into the wine, the rippling surface reflecting the gilded dining hall around him. The room was filled with laughter and chatter, the High Lord’s officials and their daughters basking in the false warmth of Beron’s presence. Eris wanted to set the entire place aflame, to reduce it all to ash.

“Are you listening, boy?”

Beron’s voice cut through his thoughts like a whip, and Eris blinked, his fingers tightening around the goblet. He didn’t bother hiding his irritation as he looked up, his sharp gaze meeting his father’s.

“You were saying?” Eris drawled, his tone laced with mockery.

Beron’s lip curled, his fiery eyes narrowing. “I said, it’s time you marry. The Autumn Court needs an heir.”

Ah, this tired song again. Eris leaned back in his chair, feigning nonchalance even as his jaw tightened. “I didn’t realize the court was on the brink of collapse without me married off. Or is it simply that the officials are tired of their daughters gathering dust?”

A few low chuckles rippled around the table, but Beron’s gaze burned like embers. He leaned in and whispered to his son, “I didn't order for all these females to be brought here like herds of sheep for nothing. Careful, Eris. Your insolence won’t serve you well when you’re High Lord."

Eris’s mouth curved into a cold smile. “And yet it serves me well enough now.”

Beron’s fingers flared with fire, but Eris didn’t flinch. He’d played this game with his father too many times to be cowed by his temper.

As the conversation shifted to other matters, Eris returned his attention to his goblet, though his mind was far from at ease.

Perhaps his father would die soon. That would certainly solve a number of problems.

The conversation at the table turned to the next ball Beron was hosting—a thinly veiled excuse for court officials to parade their daughters before Eris like prized cattle. He ground his teeth at the thought, his fingers tightening around the stem of his goblet until the fragile glass threatened to shatter.

“We’ve extended invitations to the most prominent families,” Beron announced with a self-satisfied smirk. “I trust you’ll make an effort to charm them this time, Eris. We can’t afford your... indifference.”

Eris forced his face into a neutral mask, though his thoughts burned like the fires of the court. Charm them? For what? So they could shove their scheming daughters into his arms, hoping to cement their families’ power at his side?

He knew these men. Knew how they whispered behind Beron’s back, how they lusted for a slice of the Autumn Court’s rule. And their daughters—pretty, vapid faces who smiled too sweetly and batted their lashes with calculated precision. None of them wanted him. They wanted the title, the crown, the prestige.

“I’ll do what’s expected,” Eris replied flatly, his voice betraying nothing.

Beron’s smirk widened, as though he’d won some unspoken battle. “Good. It’s time you understood your duty, boy. This is about the future of the court, not your personal whims.”

Personal whims. Eris resisted the urge to laugh. As if his father cared about anything beyond his own legacy.

Hours later, Eris stood alone in the dimly lit study, the flames in the hearth casting flickering shadows against the walls. He stared into the fire, imagining Beron’s face in the dancing embers.

His thoughts were interrupted by the soft creak of the door. He turned to see his mother stepping inside, her elegant frame draped in rich autumnal hues. She regarded him with a mix of weariness and concern, her sharp eyes softening only slightly as they met his.

“I see the evening went as expected,” she said quietly, closing the door behind her.

Eris let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, it was delightful. Another ball to look forward to, another round of power-hungry men throwing their daughters at me like bait.”

His mother sighed, moving to stand beside him. “You know he’s right, Eris. As much as I loathe him, you are the future of this court. It’s time you—”

“Don’t,” Eris snapped, his voice sharper than he intended. He turned to face her, his amber eyes blazing. “Don’t tell me you’re siding with him now. You’ve always said to wait for my mate, that the bond is sacred—”

“And it is,” she interrupted, her voice calm but firm. “But Eris, you can’t live your life waiting for something that might never come. This court needs you to lead, and you can’t do that alone.”

His jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “So what? I’m supposed to pick some scheming girl with a pretty smile and call her my wife? Let Beron manipulate her like he manipulates everyone else?”

“I hate it as much as you do,” she said softly, reaching out to touch his arm. “But this is the reality of our world. You can’t change it by standing still.”

He pulled away, stepping back as if her touch burned. “No. You’ve always told me to hold out for my mate, that she’s my true other half. And now you’re telling me to abandon that for... for duty?”

Her gaze faltered, and for a moment, Eris saw the sadness beneath her composed exterior. “Sometimes,” she said quietly, “duty must come first.”

Eris stared at her, his chest tightening with anger and something far more painful. He turned back to the fire, his voice low and cold. “Then maybe I don’t want this court. Maybe I don’t want any of it.”

His mother didn’t leave immediately. Instead, she lingered, her silhouette bathed in the warm glow of the firelight. She always had an air of quiet resilience about her, like a tree that had weathered too many storms but refused to break.

“You’re angry with me,” she said after a moment, her voice soft but steady.

Eris let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Angry doesn’t quite cover it.”

She sighed, her expression guarded. “You think I don’t understand how you feel? That I haven’t spent centuries trapped in the same gilded cage?”

Eris turned to her, his amber eyes blazing with frustration. “Then why are you saying this? Why are you pushing me toward the very thing you despise?”

Her gaze didn’t waver. “Because I know what it means to survive in this court. I know what it takes to hold onto even a sliver of power. And if you think Beron will let you ascend without a fight, without someone at your side to help you weather the storm, then you’re deluding yourself.”

“I don’t need a wife to survive his schemes,” Eris shot back. “I’ve been outmaneuvering him and his sycophants for years.”

His mother’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Outmaneuvering isn’t the same as leading. One day, you’ll be the High Lord, and when that day comes, you’ll need more than cunning to keep this court from tearing itself apart.”

“Don’t act like you care about this court,” Eris said sharply. “You’ve hated it for as long as I can remember. Hated him. Hated everything about this place.”

Her face hardened, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—pain, perhaps, or regret. “You’re right. I hate it. But I stayed for you, Eris. For you and your brothers. Do you think I endured this hell for my own sake?”

He flinched, her words cutting deeper than he cared to admit.

“I stayed,” she continued, her voice trembling ever so slightly, “because I wanted to give you a chance. A chance to be something better than him. To rise above his cruelty and show this court what true strength looks like. And now, after everything I’ve sacrificed, you want to throw it all away because you’re too stubborn to see the bigger picture?”

Eris’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists. “This isn’t about me being stubborn. It’s about not letting him dictate my life. I refuse to let him win.”

“And you think refusing to marry will stop him?” she asked, her tone sharp. “He’s already won, Eris. As long as he holds the title of High Lord, he’ll keep manipulating you, keep twisting everything to suit his whims. The only way to beat him is to take his crown—and you can’t do that alone.”

He turned away from her, staring into the fire as if it held the answers he so desperately sought. “I’m not like him,” he said quietly, more to himself than to her. “I won’t let this court turn me into what he is.”

“And you won’t,” she said, her voice softening. “But you can’t change this court without wielding its power. You have to play the game, Eris. Even if it means making sacrifices.”

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “Sacrifices. That’s all we ever do, isn’t it? Sacrifice our happiness, our freedom, our lives for this damned court.”

His mother stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’re stronger than you think,” she said softly. “Stronger than him. Stronger than me. And one day, you’ll make this court something worth fighting for.”

Eris didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on the flickering flames. Her words stirred something in him—a deep, aching need to prove her right, to show her that her sacrifices hadn’t been in vain. But the weight of his father’s shadow loomed over him, suffocating and unrelenting.

After a long silence, his mother gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze and stepped back. “You don’t have to like it, Eris,” she said quietly. “But you do have to face it.”

With that, she turned and left the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the ever-present firelight.

The endless parade of extravagant gatherings had become a well-known routine in the Autumn Court, each more suffocating than the last. Another evening, another dreary ball. Eris stood at the center of it all, draped in the formal attire his father insisted upon, an expression of mild annoyance barely hidden behind his regal facade. His father, Beron, had decreed that Eris must choose a suitable wife, one from the political elite, as the latest power struggle played out. For Beron, it was all part of a calculated game, a way to secure more influence for the Autumn Court—and a way to control Eris.

Males, their faces full of ambition, tried their hardest to charm Eris, while women, desperate to catch the Autumn Prince’s eye, all but draped themselves at his feet. It sickened him. Every glance, every touch, every word was a play for power. Eris knew they weren’t interested in him; they were interested in what his title could give them. His sharp gaze swept over the room, taking in the sycophantic expressions, the forced smiles, and the hunger for power in every corner.

Beron watched from his place at the head of the room, pleased with the spectacle, his eyes shining with the gleam of conquest. Beron had made it clear: these gatherings were not just for entertainment. They were strategic. He would not rest until Eris had chosen someone from this selection, a female who could help solidify the family’s dominance and advance the court’s agenda.

But Eris could feel the walls closing in, the pressure mounting. He could hear his father's voice in his mind, always there, like a shadow he could never shake: “It’s time, Eris. The court expects this. You must comply.”

There was a veiled threat beneath those words. Beron had already made it clear that if Eris didn’t choose, if he didn’t bend to his will, there were others—his younger brothers—who could take his place. It was a subtle threat, but one Eris understood all too well. His father’s cruelty and ambition knew no bounds.

The weight of the possibility hit Eris hard. His life had always been a game to Beron, but the stakes were growing higher.

The ball dragged on, but Eris had long since stopped paying attention to the endless parade of hopeful females. With a glass of wine in hand, he withdrew to the balcony. He stood in silence, staring at the empty expanse of the Autumn Court below. The festivities continued inside, a blur of noise and laughter, but all Eris could hear was the pounding of his own thoughts.

What is life?

The question lingered in his mind, an idle thought born from the monotony of his existence. What did it all mean? The power, the position, the endless battles for influence—none of it seemed to satisfy him. All his life, he had been surrounded by people who wanted something from him. All of them were vying for his favor, for his loyalty, for his title. His position had always been a means to an end, never something people cared about for Eris himself.

He was the Autumn Prince, yes. But who was he beneath that title? Was he just another pawn in Beron’s game? Or was there something more to him—something his father never saw? A part of Eris longed for something different, something real.

A soft sigh escaped his lips as he stared into the swirling depths of his goblet, watching the liquid ripple and shift. I want a partner. Not a pawn. Not a game. He wanted someone who could see him for who he truly was, someone who wouldn’t be blinded by his position and the power that came with it. But that, he knew, was impossible.

Who would want me?

His fingers tightened around the goblet, and his thoughts turned bitter. He knew the truth: to everyone else, he was nothing more than a means to an end. His bloodline, his name, his legacy—it was all they cared about. Even his own brothers, some of whom had never hesitated to remind him of his place in the family, saw him only as the heir, the one who could secure the future of the Autumn Court.

But how much of a fool he was to believe that tonight he would once more go back to his bedchambers, sleep and this whole ball circus will repeat once again the following evening.

Because it did not.

Something worse happened.

Something Beron told him that very evening.

The day after his father’s ultimatum, Eris was still reeling. His mind raced with frustration, his usual calm demeanor cracking under the weight of Beron’s command. Beron had made it clear: Eris would go to Montesere.

A place far removed from the harsh, cold winds of the Autumn Court. Any of the courts, really. Montesere, with its tropical warmth, golden sands, and sun-drenched lands, was like another world—a place of exotic beauty that felt almost like a dream. Beron had decided that Montesere’s ruler's daughter would be a suitable match for Eris, a political pawn to further cement the Autumn Court’s power and control over the region. Trading, influence, military alliances—Beron wanted it all, and Eris was the one who would secure it.

Eris had argued, of course. He’d protested, pacing in the grand hall of the Autumn Court, his voice sharp and full of anger.

“I will not do this,” he had told his father, fury burning in his veins. “You cannot force me to marry her. I will not be part of your schemes any longer.”

Beron had smiled, cold and calculating, as always. “You have no choice, Eris. You will go, or I will find someone else to take your place.”

Eris’s fists clenched, but he knew his father would follow through. The threat hung in the air like a sword, ready to fall. So, despite every instinct screaming to fight back, Eris had been forced to relent. It was either obey, or lose everything.

The night before he left, Eris had gone to his chambers in a haze, too angry and too betrayed to think clearly. But as the first rays of sunlight broke through the curtains, he found himself boarding a ship bound for Montesere, the tropical city a distant blur on the horizon.

The journey had been long, but as his ship docked in the vibrant city, Eris couldn't help but feel a simmering sense of discomfort. Montesere was a tropical paradise, yes, but it felt foreign in every sense. The air was thick with the scent of spices and wildflowers. The sun was relentless, beating down on the city like an oppressive force, making everything feel hotter than it should have been.

The city sprawled before him—warm, vibrant, and alive with color. The sounds of bustling markets and street vendors filling his ears. It was so different from the cold, rigid courts of his homeland, where everything was ordered, controlled. Here, there was freedom in the chaos. The sun shone fiercely in a sky of brilliant blue, and the city sprawled with narrow streets and grand palaces, lush gardens overflowing with life.

The architecture was stunning—a mixture of Moorish arches and vibrant murals that covered every surface of the grand buildings. Despite its beauty, Montesere gave off an undercurrent of tension, like a simmering pot of water on the verge of boiling over. Everything was too lavish, too colorful, too alive for Eris’s taste. He was used to the cold, biting winds of Autumn Court, the grey sky, and the rigid control of his father's rule. Montesere was an unknown entity, and he found it deeply unsettling.

Eris and his men walked through the city’s bustling streets, his boots making a steady sound against the cobblestones, but his mind was far from the sights before him. He wasn’t interested in the markets with their endless rows of goods, the open-air gardens that teemed with exotic plants, or the vibrant street performers who drew crowds of curious onlookers. He wasn’t here to admire the landscape.

His father had insisted on this alliance with Montesere. Beron had been pushing for months, envisioning it as a strategic move to gain control over trade routes, secure valuable resources, and extend his influence into territories far outside of the Autumn Court’s domain. And the key to that power was the ruler’s daughter—a female named Leona, Beron believed would make the perfect bride for Eris, a political pawn to further his own ambitions.

Eris had argued, of course. He had told his father that he didn’t care for some marriage of convenience to a woman he didn’t even know. He had protested that he wasn’t some puppet to be controlled and that he had no interest in taking yet another step toward tightening his father’s suffocating grip on his life. But Beron’s threats were sharp, and the weight of them had forced Eris into submission. In the end, he had been left with no choice.

Now, here he was, standing at the grand gates of Montesere's ruler’s palace, feeling the weight of his father’s will settle on his shoulders.

He had been instructed to meet with the ruler first—no pretense of formality, no chance to wander the city or take in the sights. It was straight to business.

As he approached the palace, the doors were already swung wide, and he was ushered inside by two sharply dressed guards. The marble floors gleamed beneath his boots as he was led down vast corridors with vaulted ceilings, adorned with intricate patterns that glimmered in the sunlight filtering through open windows. The palace was grand, more so than Eris had imagined, but it felt suffocating in its excess. Every corner seemed to shout wealth, power, and decadence—a sharp contrast to the order and structure of his home.

The king of Montesere was waiting for him in a large, open courtyard. The man’s presence was commanding, his dark eyes reflecting a mixture of curiosity and controlled power. He stood tall with a regal air, his robes of gold and royal blue trailing behind him as he spoke.

“Prince Eris,” he greeted, his voice smooth but carrying an edge of authority. “Welcome to Montesere. I trust your journey was uneventful?”

Eris met his gaze, offering a tight, polite smile. “As uneventful as one could expect.”

The man studied him for a moment, then nodded. “Come, let us discuss the matters at hand. There’s much to be done.”

They moved together toward a long table set with fruit and goblets of drink, though Eris had no desire to indulge. His mind was already miles ahead, racing through the consequences of his father’s machinations.

It wasn’t long before the ruler finally turned to introduce his daughter.

As the doors of the grand hall swung open, Eris was met with the sight of a woman who could not have been less interested in him. She walked in with an air of quiet dominance, her posture regal, her gaze sharp and unyielding. Her skin was kissed by the sun, a deep golden hue that glimmered like the sands of Montesere’s beaches. Her black hair was coiled into intricate braids, and her eyes—dark and intelligent—flickered with a disinterest that sent a strange ripple through Eris’s chest.

She didn’t even glance in his direction at first, her focus solely on her father. The king gave a small wave of his hand, signaling her approach.

“Eris, this is my daughter, Leona” the king said smoothly. “I trust you’ll find her quite the capable match for your endeavors.”

Eris was about to offer the usual pleasantries when he noticed her subtle shift in stance. She glanced at him, and there was nothing warm in her expression—nothing even remotely welcoming. It was clear from the beginning that this was going to be a difficult conversation, and Eris could already feel the simmering tension between them.

She stepped forward, her chin slightly tilted upward, and looked at him with a cold assessment.

“Prince Eris,” she greeted, her voice clipped and filled with restrained disdain. “A pleasure, I’m sure.”

Eris didn’t know what to say at first. He was used to being the one in control of a room, used to women falling over themselves for his attention, but here? This female, wasn’t even pretending to be polite. She didn’t care about his title, his name, or what he had to offer.

“I’m sure your father has already told you why I’m here,” Eris said, keeping his tone neutral. “But I’d rather not waste either of our time.”

Her gaze narrowed as she tilted her head, clearly unamused by his bluntness.

“Oh, I’m well aware of why you’re here,” she replied coolly. “You’re here to do as your father orders—arrange some sort of political union. How quaint.”

Eris’s eyes sharpened, intrigued by her lack of filter. “And you don’t seem at all interested in that.”

She gave a wry smile, almost a smirk but before she could reply, her father gave her a nudge and pushed her away while sighing and leading Eris away, talking about anything and everything.

He hadn’t wanted to come here. But Beron’s orders had been clear: Don’t return until they agree to the marriage. But what marriage?

Their first meeting was brief. Eris had been led into a sitting room, where Leona sat, her posture rigid and uninviting. Her dark eyes—unwavering and cold—studied him for a moment before she even acknowledged his presence.

“Prince Eris,” she said with a slight nod, her voice carrying an edge of indifference. “A pleasure.”

The words were a formality, one Eris had heard countless times before, but there was no warmth, no attempt to make him feel welcome. She didn’t even stand to greet him, as if he wasn’t worth the effort.

Eris had forced a polite smile, but his patience was already wearing thin.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” he said, his tone smooth, though he felt no warmth toward her. “I trust we can begin discussing the matters of the courts?”

She didn’t respond immediately, her gaze flicking briefly to the ornate tapestries hanging on the walls. “The matters of the courts, yes,” she said, her words deliberate. “I have no interest in them, but I will endure.”

Eris had been taken aback by the bluntness of her words. No pretense, no sugar-coating. She had no interest in politics, in alliances, in him. And, frankly, he didn’t blame her. This whole arrangement reeked of manipulation and control, something he knew all too well.

Over the next few days, they met daily, as was expected. Eris stayed in the lavish guest quarters, while Leona continued with her duties, often walking the gardens or attending to the administrative needs of the palace. The first few conversations were business—exchange of trade information, a few discussions about potential negotiations—but it quickly became apparent that she wasn’t interested in any of it.

Every conversation felt more like a challenge. Leona constantly looked down on him, her words laced with sarcasm and condescension. She would laugh when he mentioned the complexities of the Autumn Court, or the intricacies of their alliances with other courts.

“What does any of your courts know about real power?” she’d sneer, her lips curling slightly with amusement. “You’ve been wrapped in your little bubble, thinking you control everything, and yet, here you are, in our world, where things work differently.”

Eris found himself both frustrated and intrigued. Still, he continued the charade, as his father had ordered. He met her every day in the grand gardens of the palace, a sprawling, lush oasis that contrasted sharply with the cold stone of the Autumn Court. They walked together, discussing politics in shallow, often biting terms, neither of them giving an inch.

And then, on their third meeting, something shifted.

Leona led him through the sprawling gardens once more, her sharp eyes scanning their surroundings. As they passed through an ornate archway into a more secluded part of the palace grounds, Eris couldn’t help but notice the subtle tension in her shoulders. She stopped suddenly, and he almost collided with her back.

“Enough of this,” she muttered under her breath, though Eris could still hear the frustration in her voice. “I can’t do this anymore. You need to leave.”

Eris blinked, taken off-guard. “What do you mean? Leave?” His heart skipped a beat, not in fear but in genuine confusion. “I can’t leave until—”

“I know,” she cut him off, her voice like ice. She turned to face him, her expression hard. “Until you marry me, is that what you were going to say?

Eris’s confusion deepened. “Why? Why the hell would I leave?”

Leona’s eyes flashed with an emotion he couldn’t quite place. Her lips twisted into a bitter smile. “You really don’t get it, do you?” she sneered. “I’m not interested in this marriage. Not in you, not in anything this ridiculous alliance is supposed to bring. I like females, not males!”

Eris stood there, stunned, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. He hadn’t seen that coming. Lesbian?

Her face was flushed with irritation now, her jaw clenched as she continued. “This whole thing, this marriage—it would never work. Not because you’re not… well, you, but because I don’t find males appealing. I don’t want to marry you. I don’t want to marry anyone.”

Eris struggled to process what she was saying. His mind was still racing. “But… why the hell didn’t you tell your father that? Why not just tell him the truth?”

Leona’s eyes narrowed, her frustration turning into something sharp, almost dangerous. “Because it’s not that simple,” she snapped. “He doesn’t care about me. He wants the alliance. He wants the trade routes, the power. I’m just a pawn in his game, just like you are.”

Eris’s anger flared. This wasn’t just about the marriage anymore—it was about the game his father had been playing with his life. He had been dragged all the way here, only to find out that the princess had no interest in males to begin with. That she had been trapped in this entire situation for a reason that had nothing to do with him, or his father’s plans.

He took a step closer to her, frustration dripping from his words. “So, I’m supposed to just pack up and go because you’ve been lying to everyone about this? Because you’re too afraid to tell your father the truth? And what, I’m just supposed to walk away after being dragged halfway across the world to sit here in this tropical hellhole?”

Leona’s eyes flashed with irritation. “You don’t get it, do you? I don’t owe you or anyone else an explanation. But I do owe it to myself to not get forced into something I don’t want. This marriage would be a nightmare for both of us.”

“Then why the hell didn’t you just tell your father from the start?!” Eris’s voice was rising now, his frustration spilling over. “Why drag me all the way here for nothing, when you knew the entire time that this was never going to work?”

Leona crossed her arms over her chest, her gaze unwavering. “Because it wasn’t just my choice, Eris. You were chosen because of your father’s power. And I was chosen because my father wants to strengthen our position in the courts. So don’t stand there, pretending like I’m the only one who’s playing a game.”

Her voice softened, almost imperceptibly, as she sighed in frustration. “I’m not afraid to tell him the truth. I’m just trying to avoid the inevitable fallout, alright? I’m trying to keep the peace in my kingdom, at least for now. But you? You need to leave. You’re making this worse.”

Eris stood there, his chest rising and falling with each breath, his mind swirling. For the first time, he actually saw the weight of the situation—saw it for what it was. It wasn’t just about the marriage. It was about her life, her choices, her struggles that had nothing to do with him.

Still, his frustration simmered under the surface. He had been dragged all this way under false pretenses, and now he was being told to leave because the princess was attracted to women, not men. It was absurd. His father’s games had never felt more pointless than they did in this moment.

“What happens now?” he asked, his voice tight, his anger barely contained. “You expect me to just turn around and walk away?”

Leona’s eyes softened for a moment, but only briefly. She uncrossed her arms and stepped toward him. “I don’t want to be trapped in this world anymore, Eris. You need to understand that. The longer you stay, the more complicated everything gets. For both of us. So yes, I’m asking you to leave. For both our sakes. I will tell father that I rejected you."

Eris stared at her, the weight of her words settling deep into his chest. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but this—this was a far cry from what he had been imagining.

For the first time since he’d arrived in Montesere, he wondered if he might have misunderstood everything.

The heat of the Montesere sun beat down on Eris as he walked through the bustling market square, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. Leona’s words had taken root in him, stirring up a storm of emotions he wasn’t ready to deal with. He was pissed—hell, he was furious—but he wasn’t about to act on that fury just yet. The last thing he wanted was to reveal how off-balance he felt, especially to the small entourage of his father’s men who had accompanied him. No, he’d keep his irritation hidden, at least for now.

As he moved through the crowded market, his boots clicked against the cobblestones, the chatter of vendors and merchants filling the air. The scents of exotic spices, fresh fruit, and roasted meats mingled in the humid air, making it both overwhelming and suffocating. The faces of Montesere’s people were a mix of curiosity and indifference as he passed, his dark cloak drawing the occasional wary glance.

His hand rested casually on the hilt of his blade, a habit born of the tense nature of his travels, though right now, he didn’t think it would do him much good. Still, the constant pull of the surrounding chaos was a reminder that he was far from home, far from control. But as he wandered deeper into the market, looking for anything to distract him from his thoughts, his gaze caught something unusual.

A flash of movement in the corner of his eye. A figure—small, quick—darted between two stalls. Instinct kicked in before he could process the scene. Eris’s eyes narrowed, and his steps quickened as he moved in pursuit of the mysterious figure. The market was loud, chaotic, with people shouting at one another over prices, but he was focused, following the figure as it weaved through the crowd, dodging market-goers effortlessly.

He was close now, almost within reach, when the figure suddenly took a sharp turn down a narrow alleyway, disappearing from his view. Without missing a beat, Eris veered off course, following the alley. The shadows were deep here, the walls of the buildings rising high on either side, creating a tunnel of coolness that contrasted with the heat of the sun. He pushed forward, his muscles tense, every sense alert.

As he rounded the corner, he collided with something solid—someone solid. He cursed as his hand flew out instinctively to steady himself, grabbing the nearest source of balance. And then, in a flash, his fingers tightened around a wrist.

“Let go of me!” a voice hissed sharply, a blend of anger and surprise.

Eris looked down to see a female—small (atleast shorter than him) with sharp eyes that gleamed with an intensity that matched his own. She was dressed in simple yet sturdy clothing, something that didn’t stand out in the crowded market but suggested she was no stranger to movement or danger. Her hair was messed up after all that running, poking out from different angles, and there was something wild about her, a certain fierceness that intrigued him even as he held her wrist firmly.

“What are you running from?” Eris demanded, his voice low but commanding. He didn’t release her, not yet, his eyes studying her with growing curiosity.

The female yanked her wrist free from his grasp with surprising strength, her eyes narrowing in irritation. “None of your business,” she snapped, taking a step back, her hand instinctively reaching for something at her waist.

Eris’s brow arched, impressed despite himself. “You seem awfully keen to keep your distance,” he said coolly, studying her carefully. “What’s the rush? Or are you just trying to avoid a charming conversation?”

She shot him a look that could’ve cut through steel. “You want to talk? Fine. But first—” She paused, her gaze flicking to the alley behind him.

Eris turned just in time to see a pair of thugs, rough-looking men, appear at the end of the alley, eyeing them with clear hostility. Their eyes immediately locked onto the woman in front of him, and a heavy silence fell over the space.

“I’m not going back,” the female muttered under her breath, and her voice—barely a whisper—carried a weight of finality. But before Eris could respond, she had already moved.

She darted forward with the speed of a striking serpent, her elbow crashing into his chest, forcing him back just enough to clear the space. “Get out of the way,” she hissed, and there was no time to argue.

The two men lunged, and instinct kicked in. Eris reacted without thinking. With a swift, fluid movement, he drew his blade from its sheath, his movements sharp, precise. The first thug tried to grab for him, but Eris’s blade met his wrist with a crack, sending the man staggering back in pain, clutching at the wound. He barely had time to focus on the second man, who had already launched himself at the female.

But before the man could land a blow, the female was on him—her hands quick and efficient, her movements graceful yet deadly. She had a dagger in her hand that gleamed silver in the dim light, and with a quick twist, she disarmed him and sent him sprawling to the ground with a frustrated grunt.

Eris stood there, momentarily stunned by how easily she had handled the thugs. His grip on his sword loosened, and he stepped back as the last thug, now unconscious, crumpled to the cobblestones.

The stranger turned to face him, breathing heavily but not with any fear. If anything, she looked… amused. “You’re lucky I didn’t leave you to deal with them,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Eris’s chest rose and fell with a mix of adrenaline and surprise, but his tone was steady. “And you’re lucky I didn’t leave you to deal with them alone.”

She gave him a look, still incredulous. “I was perfectly fine. Just didn’t want to waste my time. And you,” she added with a smirk, “seem like you could use some lessons in the art of survival.”

Eris’s lips curled into a half-smile. “I’m not the one running from a fight.”

Her eyes sparkled with a challenge, but she didn’t respond, merely tucking her dagger back into her belt. “Name’s Y/N,” she said, offering him a glance that seemed to measure him up. “I don’t have time for pleasantries, but thanks for the assist.”

Eris hesitated, then gave a slight nod, acknowledging her presence, though still not entirely trusting her. There was something about this female—her calm under pressure, her lethal precision—that intrigued him. Perhaps it was more than just a shared moment of chaos.

He straightened, his voice colder now, but still with an edge of curiosity. “Eris. I don’t make a habit of getting involved in other people’s problems.”

Y/N smirked again, and for a moment, their eyes locked. “Maybe you should start,” she replied coolly, then turned on her heel and began walking away without a second glance, her movements as fluid and confident as ever.

Eris stood in the alley, watching her disappear into the crowd, a sense of intrigue buzzing at the back of his mind.

The midday sun hung high in the sky, casting long shadows over the bustling marketplace of Montesere. Y/N moved through the stalls, her fingers brushing against the fabrics, jars, and herbs that made up her trade. She had a small corner booth where she sold trinkets—jewelry made from wood and bone, simple but beautiful things—and herbs her mother harvested from the nearby woods. Life here was quiet, mostly peaceful, though nothing spectacular. Middle class at best, but comfortable enough for someone who had learned how to blend in.

She wasn't anyone important, nor did she ever wish to be. Her mother, a simple merchant who had once caught the eye of a powerful Illyrian male-her father-had raised her in this small, thriving town, far from the war camps of the Illyrian mountains. She never knew her father.

The only thing she knew of him were the whispers her mother had shared, tales of a fleeting romance that ended with Y/N's birth. Her father had never returned to them after that night.

Azriel, her half-brother, would never know she existed. They had the same father, but different mothers. He was born into the cold, rigid world of their father's estate in the Illyrian mountains, a place where power and cruelty thrived.

Yet he had risen above them, had become a legend among the world. He was everything Y/N was not.

She didn’t hate him. How could she, when she didn’t even know him? What she hated was the man who tied them together. Their father, who had left her mother to struggle in silence. Their father, who had chosen to raise Azriel in his home, while Y/N was cast aside entirely. She was nothing more than a secret, a mistake. A child of a fleeting affair, abandoned and forgotten.

Y/N had spent her life trying to avoid the idea that her bloodline tied her to such a man. She never went near the Illyrian war camps, never even thought of them. Montesere, far from the courts and the suffocating politics that ruled them, was where she belonged.

Her mother had kept them hidden, not wanting her daughter to be drawn into a world where she wasn’t wanted. And so, Y/N had grown up far from the Illyrians, living simply as a merchant, living simply as herself. She had learned to make peace with her life—or at least, she tried.

A customer approached, snapping Y/N back into the present moment. She offered the bundle of rosemary with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, her thoughts still tangled in the web of her past. She quickly took the coins and returned to her stall, arranging the trinkets with practiced hands. She had to keep going, keep moving forward. She had her life here, in the town that had accepted her. A life without the burden of court politics, without the weight of her bloodline, without the shadow of her half-brother lingering over her.

The sun had already set when Y/N was summoned to the palace. She had no intention of attending any royal feast—she wasn’t a noble, after all—but the request came from the kitchen, where she had worked for the past year as a second job. The head chef had insisted that her skills were needed to prepare some delicacies for the evening’s banquet, and Y/N didn’t dare argue. She needed the work, even if it meant entering the heart of the opulent palace she avoided whenever possible.

She quietly slipped in through the small side door meant for staff, her worn shoes clicking softly on the stone floors of the servants’ quarters.

“Y/N, get upstairs,” called the kitchen head, a short, no-nonsense woman whose gray hair was tied back in a tight bun. “One of the servers called out. I need you to take the platters to the royal table.”

Y/N’s gut clenched. She had no interest in serving the highborn—especially not after the way they looked down on people like her. She’d rather stay in the back with the heat and the smells of roasted meats than parade in front of royalty and their guests.

“I’m not meant for the royal table,” she protested, wiping her hands on her apron and glancing at the mess of ingredients that still needed attention. “I’m fine down here, really.”

“You’re going, and that’s final. We need someone who isn’t afraid to move quickly. You’ll be fine.”

She opened her mouth to argue further, but the look on the head’s face told her it wasn’t worth it. Reluctantly, Y/N grabbed a tray, carefully stacking the food, and made her way up through the servants’ stairs. Her feet were heavy as she ascended, the grand sounds of music and laughter becoming louder the higher she climbed.

When she finally reached the top floor, she barely spared a glance at the grand banquet hall that stretched before her. The sight of the highborn nobles lounging at tables, laughing and drinking, only reminded her of how little she belonged in such a place.

She found the corridor leading to the royal table and, with a sigh, took a deep breath before entering.

It was just her luck that, as she approached the table, she nearly collided with someone.

A deep voice rumbled above her as she froze in place. “Careful.”

She glanced up, heart thumping, and saw none other than Eris--the stranger from the day before.

For a split second, their gazes locked. He stood tall, an imposing figure even amidst the other nobles, his sharp features sculpted into a casual but commanding expression. His lips curled into a smirk when he saw her.

“You again?” he asked, his tone dripping with amusement.

Y/N’s chest tightened, but she managed to keep her composure. “What are you doing here?” she shot back, her tone colder than she intended. “Shouldn’t you be off enjoying yourself?”

Eris chuckled lightly, unbothered by her cool response. “I’m here on business, just like everyone else.”

The words were quiet, but their meaning was clear—Eris wasn’t here just to socialize. There was something more behind his presence, something sharp and calculating that she couldn’t quite place. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, but she wouldn’t show weakness.

“Right,” she muttered, turning her attention back to the platters in her hands. She had no time to exchange pleasantries with the likes of him. “Excuse me, Your Highness.”

But as she tried to move past him, one of the servers bumped into her from behind, sending the platters nearly toppling. She had barely enough time to steady herself before one of the dishes slid right off the tray, splashing onto the floor in a mess of sauce and roasted meat.

The noise echoed across the hall, drawing the attention of several nearby guests, including Eris, who watched her with an unreadable expression.

“Lovely,” she muttered under her breath, already kneeling to clean up the mess. She had no interest in making a spectacle of herself, but the eyes of the nobles burned into her skin. The last thing she needed was more attention.

Eris, however, stepped forward, his gaze flicking between her and the mess she was attempting to clean up. After a long beat, he knelt beside her, offering a hand. “Let me help.”

Y/N didn’t expect the gesture, and her hand froze mid-air. She glanced up at him, surprise written across her face. “I can handle it,” she replied sharply, brushing the dirt off her hands. She wasn’t about to accept help from someone like him, especially not someone who looked at her with disdain.

But instead of backing away, Eris’ gaze softened, just a fraction, and he smirked. “I can’t let you ruin your evening, can I?”

Her jaw clenched, but she said nothing as he helped her clean up the mess. Despite herself, she couldn’t help but notice how carefully he handled the delicate porcelain of the dish, as though he didn’t want to make a bigger mess.

Once the platter was back in her hands, Y/N stood, brushing the dust from her skirt. “I don’t need your charity,” she said curtly.

Eris stood too, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “You don’t seem to want much of anything, do you?” he said, his voice almost teasing.

Y/N shot him a sharp look. “What is it you want, then? To mock me in front of your friends?”

He tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into that wry smile. “You misunderstand, Y/N. I’m not here to mock you.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The tension between them crackled in the air, thick and uncomfortable. Y/N wanted to snap at him, to demand that he leave her be, but instead, she took a deep breath and turned away.

“I have a job to do,” she muttered, not looking back.

As she left the room, her heart still racing from the close encounter, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between them. Something she couldn’t quite explain.

The morning light filtered in through the window, gently coaxing Y/N out of her sleep. She stretched lazily, dreading the day ahead. The rhythm of her life had been predictable lately—work, more work, and quiet nights alone or with her mom. She had almost grown accustomed to the solitude. Almost.

As she brushed her hair and pulled on her outfit, a sudden, sharp knock on her door sent her heart into a rapid flutter. Who could that be at this hour?

Reluctantly, she moved toward the door, her stomach knotting. She wasn’t expecting any visitors, especially not this early. With one hand resting on the doorknob, she muttered to herself, “Great. Another surprise.”

She swung open the door, only to freeze at the sight of the last fae she expected.

Eris Vanserra.

Her heart skipped a beat, but she quickly masked it with a glare. “What the hell are you doing here?” she snapped, crossing her arms. “How did you find me? How did you even know where I live, you psycho?”

Eris smirked, as usual, unfazed by her harsh words. “A prince has his ways,” he said with a wink, stepping closer to the door. “Wouldn’t want you to think you’re living in complete obscurity.”

She stepped back, disbelief crossing her face as she exhaled sharply. “You’re insane. I don’t know you. I don’t even know why you’re here.”

“Let me in. I’m not here to waste your time,” he said, his voice more serious now, though still laced with a hint of amusement.

Y/N hesitated, a thousand questions racing through her mind, but she sighed and stepped aside, allowing him in. “Fine. Whatever. But this better be good.”

Eris walked into the modest home, his sharp eyes scanning the room with an almost calculating gaze. It was humble, far from what he was used to in the luxurious halls of the Autumn Court. Yet there was something about the quiet simplicity of the place that intrigued him.

He turned to Y/N, who stood in the doorway, her arms still crossed. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” she asked, her tone sharp, distrust obvious in her eyes.

He walked over to the small table, setting himself down with the confidence of someone who had always been in control. “I need you to marry me.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, her brows furrowing. “What? Are you out of your mind?”

He leaned back, unfazed by her reaction. “Not quite. You see, I have a little problem. My father is—” he paused, his face hardening for a moment, “—insisting that I marry. He is Beron, high lord of Autumn. But there’s a catch. There’s always a catch. I can’t marry just anyone. I need someone specific.”

She blinked, confusion and suspicion creeping into her voice. “What do you mean ‘someone specific’? What does that even have to do with me?”

He shrugged, his smirk never wavering. “You, Y/N. You’re the perfect candidate. A marriage of convenience, one that benefits both of us. You see, my father insists that I marry someone with noble blood, someone who can stand by me and help me secure my place as heir. That's exactly why he sent me here as a last resort after I refused every female he threw at me. He wanted me to marry princess Leone."

Y/N looked at him like he’d just grown another head. “You’re insane. Why would I ever agree to something like that? What would I get out of this?”

Eris’s smile deepened. “Well, a lot more than you think. For one, I can offer you stability—security. I know you’re taking care of your mother, and I have resources at my disposal. I can help her.”

Y/N froze. The mention of her mother sent a shiver down her spine. Her mother’s health had been deteriorating slowly, a sickness that she couldn’t seem to shake, and it weighed heavily on her. “How do you know about my mother?” she asked, her voice cracking slightly.

Eris didn’t flinch. “I’ve been doing my research. I can help her get the care she needs, the treatment you can’t afford on your own. If you agree to this marriage, we can keep her healthy, and I can make sure she has everything she needs.”

Y/N’s heart beat faster, but she shook her head, not wanting to show how much the offer affected her. “I’m not a noble. I’m not a princess. Your father won’t accept me. He sent you here to marry our princess, not some nobody.”

Eris’s gaze turned thoughtful, and then, with a small, calculating smile, he said, “My father doesn’t know that. He’s never seen the princess from Montesere. He’s never seen the world beyond the seven courts. But you? You could pass as the princess’s sister. Or, we could say half sister. Perhaps a cousin or a distant relative would be acceptable as well.”

That struck a nerve. Y/N stared at him in disbelief. “You’re insane if you think this will work.”

Eris leaned forward slightly. “Not really. Even if he tries his best not to show it, the king of Montesere is in failing health. His daughter, Leona, has been taking control of the kingdom. She and I had a... disagreement, and she’s made it clear she’s not interested in marriage. But she can help us. Trust me, she has her own motive. She can make it look convincing that you’re the princess’s relative. What kind? you can choose that yourself."

Y/N felt the weight of his words, the possibility starting to form in her mind. But she shook her head, trying to push the thoughts away. “But why me specifically? Why would you choose me over someone else?”

He took a breath, his eyes steady on her. “You have a certain... resilience. You’re not easily manipulated. And unlike the other female's I’ve met, you don’t fawn over me. That’s rare, you know.” He let out a soft laugh. “Plus, I'm pretty sure you’re smarter than most think.”

Y/N turned her gaze to the floor, trying to process everything. The situation felt so complex, like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, not sure if she should jump or step back. She needed time to think.

“I don’t know,” she said, rubbing her temple, her mind a whirlwind. “I can’t just do this. You’re asking me to lie—to pretend to be someone I’m not. And-and marriage?!”

Eris stood and walked over to her, his expression softening just a fraction. “Trust me, Y/N. You don’t have to pretend. Just a little... adjustment, and we can both get what we want. You’ll have your mother’s care, and I’ll have the alliance I need. My father’s not going to let me out of this marriage arrangement. I need someone, and you’re the one who makes the most sense.”

Y/N looked up at him, her decision weighing heavily in her chest. She could almost feel the pull, the necessity of this arrangement, especially with her mother’s condition.

“If you don’t agree, nothing will change. But if you do... you’ll have the power to change everything,” he added, his tone insistent but strangely soft.

She took a deep breath, the weight of it all crashing down on her. "Fine," she said, reluctantly. "But this doesn’t mean I’m going to like it.”

Eris grinned. “I didn’t expect you to. But we’ll make it work.”

Later that evening, Eris leaned back in the plush chair of his room, a glass of amber liquid swirling lazily in his hand. The flickering firelight danced across his sharp features, his expression one of triumph.

He pulled out a crisp sheet of parchment, the Autumn Court insignia emblazoned at the top. Dipping his quill into the ink, he scrawled out a short, deliberate message:

Father, Your incessant nagging has finally borne fruit. The marriage is set. Expect us soon. -E.V.

A smirk curled his lips as he folded the letter, sealing it with wax. He held it up to the firelight for a brief moment, admiring his handiwork, before handing it to the waiting messenger at the door.

As the messenger disappeared into the night, Eris leaned back once more, a self-satisfied grin plastered on his face. “Got what you wanted, Father,” he muttered to the empty room. “Let’s see if you choke on it.”

The flames crackled louder, as if in agreement, while Eris’s mind began spinning the next steps of his plan. The game was far from over—it had only just begun.

And Eris….Eris would make sure his plan unfolded perfectly.

----------------------------------------------------------

Taglist open!

[jaebeomsbitch]

Not So Dirty Talk (E.M)

Summary: trying to tell your boyfriend a story in the middle of intimate times?

Gif credit: @foggystreetlights

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI, PinV, cream pie, explicit words and actions, unprotected

A/N: had this in the drafts for a while, thought I’d come back with something after not writing for a while. Also thanks for the 300 new followers in the short time I’ve been MIA!

I’m definitely reusing this gif

We’ve always always talked about Eddie babbling during sex, spewing out dirty shit out of his mouth that I’d make a nun blush but what about the times when he slips in slow and steady. Elbows on either side of your head and you accidentally let out a little giggle. His eyes snapping up towards yours.

“What’s so funny princess?” He asks with a dimpled grin. Hips moving ever so slightly inside you letting you adjust, his knees digging into the sheets, thighs pressed into your ass, knees wrapped around his neck.

“Something stupid” you say with a little twinkle in your eyes.

“Yeah? Couldn’t wait baby?” He smiles, moving his hips slow and methodically.

And then you’re just having a full conversation in the middle of sex. His bangs pressed into his forehead with a thin veil of sweat.

“Uh-huh okay then?” He asks breathlessly. His stomach flexing trying to keep himself together but your pussy’s just so warm and enveloping.

You try to keep your thoughts straight, trying to hold onto the thin thread chasing it desperately as you start to stutter “a-an- and t-the fuh-“ your eyes rolling back, fingernails digging into the backs of your thighs.

“Uh-huh and?” He says eyes twinkling with mirth.

“Mmm I- uhh ohh” you gasp out trying to speak desperately but you just can’t.

“Aww, cat got your tongue princess?” He smiles sardonically. His pride swelling seeing you so fucking cock dumb under him. Reduced to a drooling babbling mess.

“Oh- fuck please don’t stop” you moan.

“What’re you gonna do if I do?” He says with that irritating smirk on his face.

“Please- Eddie please don’t” you heave for air, stomach constricting with your impending orgasm.

“Can’t do to stop me sweets, I could stop right now. Leave you crying” he says nipping at your collarbone

“Please Eddie” you beg desperately even though he hasn’t stopped and he has no plans to stop. Your nails leave deep crescent moons in the back of your thighs, your thighs tightening around his neck.

“M’not” he grunts seeing the tears springing in your eyes. His hips slapping against your ass rhythmically.

“Not until you fucking cum all over my cock princess” he continues sounding more and more breathless. The fire at the base of his spine growing and catching like kindling in a chimney.

Your moans start getting more and more high pitched.

“Close m’close,” you nod. Your eyes rolling back, lips falling open, Eddie’s fingers digging into your shoulders as he cradles you close.

Grinding his hips against yours, he groans softly, his grip on your hips tightening. "God, you feel so good," he murmurs, nuzzling against your neck. "So fucking hot."

Your slip your fingers in the small gap between you two circling your clit. You gasp all the sensations overwhelming. The hard press of Eddie’s tattooed chest into your thighs, his scent invading your nose mixed with the smell of sex, the sting of his hips slapping your ass, his fingers digging into your shoulders, thick spreading you open slamming into your cervix leaving you a drooling babbling mess.

You can’t help the sob that leaves your lips. The pleasure crackling in every nerve ending if your body. You shudder underneath Eddie, gasping for air, choked with a moan. Big fat tears rolling down your cheeks as you cum and babble incoherently.

Your warm velvet walls squeezing Eddie’s cock, practically suffocating it. Moaning loudly, he closes his eyes, lost in the sensations coursing through his body. His breath comes in short, ragged gasps as you continue to pull him in creating a delicious friction that sends shivers down his spine. Until he finally lets go, the burn at his spine climbing like a spider in its web.

With a groan, thick white ropes painting your walls as the two of you pant for air. His arms shake as he pushes himself up gently moving your legs down from his shoulders.

“Fuck— that was…” he breathes heavily falling back down into your chest with a thud. His breath hot on your neck as he nuzzles into you. You lazily wrap your arms under his sweaty armpits.

“Didn’t know talking about my sixty year old co-worker would get you so hot” you tease

He chuckles, “there’s just something about Gladys and the way she fucking hates me.”

[tinydefector]

TFP Shockwave with a pet human who he's come to be rather affectionate with absent mindedly and has become more interactive with them outside of experiments even. One day human goes missing / isn't in usual spot and Shockwave is trying to figure out wtf is going on but then a con makes a cruel joke (anyone of choosing I thought arachnid or starscream) that they fell out of their cage and got caught underfoot whoopsies . how does Shockwave react before the human comes out from their hiding spot where they were resting??? O_O

Out of Reach

Shockwave x human

Warning: none

Word count: 1k

Shockwave masterlist

_________________________

Shockwave grew increasingly troubled as his thorough search of the lab turned up no sign of his human companion. They were always precisely where he expected upon his arrival, yet this cycle they were nowhere to be found. A nagging unease arose within the Decepticon scientist, though he remained outwardly calm as he searched.

Shockwave diligently swept across the laboratory once more, searching for any trace or clue that could indicate the human's whereabouts or condition. This simply made no logical sense. They had never hidden from him, something must have happened. Had something interfered with the lab's systems without triggering alerts? No breaches were indicated. Shockwave did not appreciate unexplained variables in his work.The sooner this small mystery was solved, the better.

Arachnid watches with a smirk on her lips as Shockwave walks through the halls checking different areas and in hopes that his little companion was just hiding. "Missing something Shockwave?" She inquires with a raised optic brow, not looking rather interested.

Shockwave paused in his meticulous vent searches to regard the inquisitive Arachnid. She took far too much pleasure in others' losses, however minor.

"My human subject is absent from their Enclosure without explanation," he stated flatly. No sense indulging her obvious gloating. "Their whereabouts remain unknown." Her smirk only widened. "And you thought you had everything so neatly ordered. Surprises happen, even to our beloved scientist." Her tone held thinly veiled mockery. "Perhaps a fleshling has more spirit than you gave it credit for."

Shockwave disregarded her taunting for now. "If you possess any data that could aid my investigation, speak. Else your presence here serves no purpose." His patience for games was nonexistent. She lets out a huff as she turns away. "Last I saw them Starscream was rambling about discarding the little pest, I would much rather have added them to my collection, but no use once they are squished" she replies amusement flicking in her optics. It makes Shockwave's spark go cold at the thought.

Starscream, interfering in his work yet again... but to harm the human? It made no sense. "Elaborate. What precisely did Starscream say?" Starscream's actions often lacked reason, but there had to be a thread of logic here. The thought of harm coming to his research subject was. displeasing.

His optic narrowed on Arachnid, another smile graced her lips. "If my memory serves correctly, starscream stepped on them when he was in your laboratory last, and decided it was easier to discard them before they made a mess with all their bloo " she teases. She was going to see just how far Shockwave was willing to go for the little flesh bag.

Something akin to anger flashed through Shockwave's circuits at Arachnid's vague 'memory' and obvious game. Starscream would pay dearly for damaging laboratory property and disrupting critical research. His optic burned into hers. "Show me. Now."

Starscream looks up from his data pad when the sound of Shockwave's shadow forms over him. Arachnid gives him a little wave before stalking off, leaving Shockwave with him. "What can I do for you, Shockwave, as you can see I am rather busy" he states, wings flickering in annoyance at being interrupted.

"You will explain the human's current status and your role in their disappearance, Starscream," he stated calmly. Too calmly, given the swirling calculations within his processor. "Arachnid insinuated you were involved with deactivating them."

Starscream shifted uneasily under that baleful optical lens. “How dare you accuse me!” he snarls as his optics glare at the scientist. Shockwave cut him off. "The human. Where is it? I will have answers, one way or another. Do not test me further, Starscream."

"You babbling Moron I haven't been anywhere near your Lab nor near that disgusting little creature you adore!I'm Sure Arachnid would just love to add them to her collection of prizes and is using this time to hunt them" Starscream snarls out wings flickering even more as Shockwave threatens him.

The moment those words leave Starscream, Shockwave turned on a heel strut and departed, optic aglow with sheer anger. When Shockwave stalks back into his laboratory Arachnid isn't paying attention as she looks through the vents eager to try and find the human before Shockwave's return.A faint whirring was Shockwave's only warning before his blaster cannon trained directly on Arachnid's backstrut. "Cease your prowling immediately, My companion is off limits as is instructed by Lord Megatron" he commanded, weapon charged and ready.

She froze at the sound of his calm yet irrefutable voice. “Such a shame, yet you still have found your precious little pet, perhaps they have finally abandoned you” she sneers back at him. His optic narrowed to a slit. He took a measured step forward. "The human. Where have you hidden or disposed of them, Arachnid?" A hiss escaped her in mingled frustration and wary respect. Lying to Shockwave was never wise. Slowly, delicately, she extracted herself away from the vent. "I have no idea."

Movement catches Shockwave optics from over on his bench, it makes both Decepticons helms snap to the moment. "What time is it?" the little human asked while rubbing their eyes as they pulled the large cloth around their body. walking out of the unoccupied crate that originally held Shockwave's energon cube rations. Arachnid snarls as she pushes Shockwave off before stalking out of the lab. "What was that about?" They mumble tiredly.

Shockwave's cannon whirred down as he took in the dishevelled yet apparently unharmed human, "It is roughly mid-cycle," he replied calmly, his servo moving across their frame taking in their appearance making sure they are not injured. all traces of anger leave his processes.

"You appear undamaged. How did you get to be within the energon container? Arachnid led me to believe you'd been.harmed." he questioned, Relief pulsed through his lines, though he showed no outward emotion.

"I fell asleep in there last night while you were working, sorry I didn't mean to cause any issues" they state as he lifts them up. Shockwave processed this new information and he cursed himself for not checking the crate. "You have nothing for which to apologise for " he replied calmly, holding the human against his chassis. “I ask that you alert me as to your wear about before recharge for your own safety” he states before setting down with them in his servos.

______________

Let me know if you would like to be added to tag list (tagged for every fic)

Taglist

@angelxcvxc

@saturnhas82moons

@kgonbeiden

@murkyponds

@autobot79

@buddee

@bubblyjoonjoon

@chaihena

@pyreemo

@lovenotcomputed

@mskenway97

@delectableworm

@cheesecaketyrant

@ladyofnegativity

@desertrosesmetaldune

[revelboo]

I’m here for Soundwave stealing away reader from Starscream. It’s a very likely scenario to occur if Starscream continues to be his own downfall but it’s amusing to consider nonetheless the less because he knows that is an outcome that can happen.

He absolutely would at this point if reader wasn’t fully bonded to Starscream. He’s just trying to keep Star from dragging you with him when he self destructs at this point

Everything Is Alright Pt 106

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• “Megatron.” Turning at Soundwave’s deep voice, he waits for his communications officer to catch up to him. “A word?” Servos flexing because he can still smell you on Soundwave, he inclines his head. Starts walking again with the other mech and waits for Soundwave to begin speaking again. Because this is about you, he knows it is. And you’re a problem. The way his spark heats when you glare at him or snap back an unexpected thrill. Afraid, but willing to stand up to him for your mates, but not yourself. Why does he care when you really shouldn’t matter.

• “This is about the human. Your mate.” Ignoring the thinly veiled growl in Megatron’s voice, Soundwave nods. Carefully. If Megatron realizes he’s being manipulated, he’ll never cooperate. So he waits and walks, feeling when Megatron glances sidelong at him, optics narrowed. “Why a human?” Because of the way you smile when you see him, though those have been fragile things lately because of his own actions. Because he loves the chaos of your emotions within his thoughts, those soft hands, having someone that doesn’t mind if he’s too quiet. If he’s lost in thought. The way you trace little patterns on his plating when you’re drowsy and the way you never shy away when he reaches for you. That soft voice talking to him about anything and everything. All things he can’t say to Megatron.

• “Easy to control,” Soundwave replies and Megatron’s lips twist. Because he’s almost certain that’s a lie. No, definitely a lie. Remembering the affectionate way Soundwave had brushed his cheek against you and feathered kisses against your skin. Murmuring to you as you curled into him, trusting yourself fully to his care. And part of him wonders what that would be like. Someone waiting for him, happy to see him and with no ulterior motives behind their smiles. He’s lonely, but he’s been lonely a very long time. Letting his reputation and temper keep everyone at bay.

• “The truth,” Megatron admonishes, voice soft and Soundwave vents. Tiredly reaching up to press his servos against his chassis over his cassette compartment. Can still sense your emotions despite the distance. That incomplete bond a tie to you. A way to ensure the Seeker can’t just run away with you. And a gamble that you’ll hopefully survive Starscream if he won’t stop clawing for power. If Megatron ends him once and for all because of the Seeker’s own treacherous actions, you don’t deserve to die with him. And he doesn’t know how this will work. If he‘ll be tied to Starscream’s fate alongside you if he fully bonds you or if it might spare you. Spark bonds are a taboo and who knows which or if any of the old stories are real or just legends.

• “Happier since finding them,” Soundwave admits. That isn’t a lie, his communications officer looking at him as if daring him to judge. And he really can’t. Because he understands as much as it makes him uncomfortable. Likes speaking to you despite the fact that you’re beneath him. Insignificant. “Less lonely.” And that strikes home.

• “I don’t know what that means,” you whisper and that hint of miserable fear in your voice pierces Starscream’s own worries. “I don’t know what a protoform even is.” Feels when you start to tremble and wraps his arms around you as he realizes that he’s not the only one completely lost in this. You’re worried and scared, too. “I need someone to talk to me, okay? Please?”

• “I know.” Raspy voice low as he tucks you more firmly against him, chin resting on top of your head. “We’ll do this together.” Feeling his palm sliding up and down your spine, you desperately want to believe that. That he’s not going anywhere. That he won’t panic and run again. But you’re not sure that you can anymore. “Figure it out together.” And you need to believe that so much it hurts, but can you?

Previous

Next

[tonkatsubowl]

hsr penacony men reacting to the reader being a yandere

▼ trigger warning. for alot of things.

aventurine would most definitely keep an eye on you. he previously stated that he lost everything in life and that he had nothing else to lose anymore, but now... with your love for him, he knew that he would never try to lose you. however, your behavior got worse as the two of you got into a relationship. you became obsessive, possessive and toxic at times. you threatened others when they got too close to him, and there were times where he literally had to hold you back. aventurine liked this side a bit, but when it got triggered, he had to do everything he can to prevent you from murdering everyone in sight. he'd soothe you with words to calm you down, and there would be times where he had to physically keep you down. kisses and hugs would do the trick, but sometimes it'd take more than that.

"again?" aventurine murmured as he approached the dark alleyway of the outskirts of penacony.

the stench of blood filled his nostrils as he approached you obliterating an innocent person, your eyes wide and an insane smile adoring your veil.

"(y/n)..." he placed a hand atop of your shoulder, seizing you of your actions. you look over, your blood-covered face softening when you see your lover.

"she's dead. there's no need to make a mess now." he soothes you, stroking your hair as he began to clean you up with a handkerchief.

"she was certainly being a mess earlier," you cooed, "i had to get rid of her. she was talking about wanting to sleep with you, and—"

he hushed you by pressing his lips against yours, before pulling away. he couldn't help his popularity in penacony, but his reputation was extremely dangerous. because of you.

"it's alright, dear. remind yourself that nobody other than you will be able to have me."

"... hehehe. i just love you so much, kakavasha."

dropping the murder weapon, you embraced him, tainting his expensive clothing with the victim's blood.

"... i love you too." his gaze softens, looking at the gruesome sight before him. now he has to clean this up...

dr ratio knew that this side of you was hidden, somewhere, waiting to be summoned. he knew the moment he met you for the first time, there was something about you that wasn't... right. and now time has flown by, and the both of you were engaged in a relationship. however, he didn't calculate that this side of you would be so dark.

luckily for you, dr ratio was an introvert and only spent his time reading books and whatnot. he spends his days indoors, doing whatever a mathematical, physiological and scientific genius would do, so you didn't have to worry about him going off.

however, just one moment he walks into a public library and all hell breaks loose. a woman admiring him from afar would be declared missing, and you would obviously be the reason why.

he sighed, seeing that the woman's body was laid to rest, and you were approaching him with the murder weapon in hand.

"veritas!" you exclaimed, bouncing towards him with glee, "i missed you!"

he eyes at the gruesome sight behind you, sighing to himself as you embraced him. you impressed him, seeing that he did not calculate this dangerous side of you. but you had to be controlled. he definitely learned that questioning you of your antics and beliefs would drive you crazy and go on both a rampant and a rampage.

"...i missed you, as well. but please do not make a mess, next time. i'd rather not see you coat yourself with blood again. if anyone sees you, then—"

"or what." you threatened, your eyes widening. "let them see. let the world see! the world needs to know that you're mine. you're mine. you're mine. you're mine! you're mi—" you went off again, and he had to quiet you by placing a hand atop of your head. "i am yours," he forced himself to reassure you, "but i would much rather you not get caught. do you understand that?"

as though your demeanor changed, you became a guilty dog that was caught ripping something apart (literally). your eyes pleaded, as you look down.

"okay..."

"good. now let's clean you up."

sunday knew this side of you. considering he was also a manipulative person, he truly didn't mind that you were doing this but at the same time, he had a reputation to keep. he didn't want you to dirty the streets of penacony due to a bit of jealousy or hatred towards other people who admired sunday.

but he was given word that you were killing one of the guard dogs of the family, who spoke ill about you. well deserved, he thought, until he had to clean up after you.

the doors opened, revealing you, multiple guards watching you with horror and disgust, and the victim that could not be even seen as a victim anymore but a pile of intestines and minced meat.

he sighed, pinching his nose, before approaching you. the guards around him shook with terror as they were confused how he of all people was not affected by your actions.

"(y/n)," he calls out to you, "must you be this dirty with your actions?"

"he was talking ill about you." you say, looking towards him as you got up, happily skipping towards him, "so i got rid of him."

well deserved, sunday once again thought, but now he has a mess to clean up.

he signaled the guards to clean up the minced meat pile, before wrapping an arm around your shoulder. "now i have to drag you into the bath to get you washed up."

"okay! will you join me? you have to. you need to. or else everyone here dies, and—"

"i will." sunday nods slowly, pressing his lips at corner of your lips. "do not fret."

and because of this, and all the previous other events you did, you were practically nicknamed the "dog of sunday". you were a dog to be corrected on a leash, always by sunday's side, and a threat to those who opposed the man.

loyal, and forever by his side, waiting to bite.

[xoxochb]

I'm so ashamed to ask this but idc

Write more Leo x f!reader smut PLSPLSPLSPLSPLSPLSPLS🙏🙏🙏🙏IM BEGGING YOUUUU

— it just makes sense ꣑ৎ‧₊˚.

★ - warnings: smut I fear… spanish dialogue was translated using google translate so it’s probably not correct my apologies pairing: leo valdez x fem! reader a/n: had this idea in my head for DAYS 🙏🏼🙏🏼

this was utter suffering. the fact that you had to sit here, doing nothing but watching your boyfriend work. a pout veils your lips, though your eyes say entirely different— it’s the way he handles the metals and tools, calloused fingers running both over and inside the contraptions, causing a pool of heat to rush between your thighs. you try your best attempt to ignore it, to go back to gazing out the window as it rains, but every time you attempt to your eyes wander and find themselves trailing over leo’s hands again

you suppose that he notices you from the corner of his eyes because he smirks only a tad and breaks the silence, “bored, mi cielo?”

your eyes widen and you snap out of your trance quickly. “uhm… a little, yeah”

leo smiles and sits down on his workbench, patting his lap and beckoning you over. happily, you rise from your set on his bed and to stop his lap, steadying yourself with arms around his neck. though, now that you were sitting here he continues his work on the machines, yet still holding you at the same time. you pout and rest your head on his shoulder, resuming your staring session. you sigh and avert your eyes in realization that the heat from between your legs had then traveled through all your senses. you instead listen as it begins to thunder outside, lightning following closely after. and the rain, the patterns of drops against the window… one… two… three… three… two… one… one… two… three and on and on again. nope, so not working in any way shape or form, your mind ends up traveling back to leo’s fumbling hands. you shiver and bury your head further into his shoulder

“cold?”

you shake your head. “no… just- I’m just thinking”

leo smirks and places down his machine, tapping the back of your head to pull you out of his shoulder. “about what?”

your face flushes red. you frown and avoid any eye contact for as long as possible, this was, until leo uses one hand to hold your jaw to force you to look at him

“I- it’s… weird. it’s stupid”

“I won’t make fun of you”

you frown. “I was just… watching you. that’s it”

“yeah? like what you see?”

you throw him an unamused look. though you did like what you saw, he would not be granted the pleasure of knowing that. “I was- no. you’re always… working on your machines and I think I like… watching.” your cheeks get even redder if that’s possible “not… the machines though”

“then what-” leo begins, but then realization washes over him and his eyes widen. his hand leaves your face and instead rests over your upper thighs “oh”

“It’s stupid, I told you” you attempt to get up but leo tightens his grip around your waist and stops you from doing so. you send him a “what’re you doing?” look, silently demanding an answer

and an answer he gives. his finger loops around the waistband or your shorts, but he doesn’t go far before looking up to you with pleading eyes, a quiet consensual act. you nod— though in reality you wish you had said please please please please!! slowly, he slides them down, you help by kicking your legs to get the rest of them off, now he repeats the same action again, sliding your lacy underwear down your legs in a similar manner. then, he trails his fingers back up your thighs and before they get any higher he connects his lips with yours just as his fingers slip inside you, stifling your guttural moan. your hands grip his shirt tightly, when he pulls away from the kiss you throw your head back pleasurably as he works inside you, your walls beginning to tighten around his calloused hands

it’s better than you imagined, though the imagination wasn’t that slim— you had done this before, but more specifically this is better than watching him repeat this action with his stupid machines

leo rests his head in your neck, pecking it gently. “you were thinking?”

oh how you want to respond with a coherent sentence, all that comes out is broken pieces. “I was- mhm- leo, I’m gonna-” your cut off by another moan, every word diminishing from your mind as it turns to utter television static

though your incoherent “sentences” were far better than watching him finger his machines opposed to you

[atoltia]

March can be easily flustered...

...If he was aware that the things that he did or were done to him were to be taken as gestures of affection, whether it be platonic or romantic.

There was a method to his madness. Simplicity in logic was to be preferred over convoluted solutions and discussions. The most direct course of action to reach perfection, even when that particular avenue could be misconstrued into something else.

But he couldn't always see it.

When you pointed out that he was being sweet when he gave you that hoe (after fully insulting you, please do not forget) knowing full well how much pride he has on his work, how much blood and sweat he spent on meticulously crafting it to the best it could be, he was a blubbering mess.

He was sober that time so he had the mind to throw you out of the shop with a rather hasty slam to the door, leaving you cackling loud enough for him to hear from inside the blacksmith (loud enough, mind you, to wake up Olric from wherever the hell he was taking a nap).

That one moment you told him that you found it sweet that he took the time to teach you on how to use his forge (with the thickly veiled threat that he will break your arms if you so much as damage his equipment. Don't worry, you threatened to shove his sorry ass into the fire if he ever tried. Both of you had to pull Olric away from the forge because he would have actually fallen into it after laughing so much at the both of you), you were sure he was gonna have a stroke.

When you heard him mention at the Saturday market that he liked hot chocolate, he banged his shin into the stall accidentally when he saw that you bought him a cup (he did accuse you of bribing Darcy to poison it, though. Little shit had the gall to slap your hand away like a greedy little gremlin when you tried to take it back. Both of you were bickering so much that the poor cup of hot chocolate had to be saved by Olric lest it get spilled).

Little instances led you to believe that the man was just a blubbering mess of nerves and embarrassment whenever he ever gets associated with being sweet.

But then there was that time when he took your hand into his, examined every digit, ever crevice, every scratch, every contusion with such intimate concentration that you thought your heart would fail from beating so fast (you didn't even hear him lecture you about being a dumbass in the mines again while he bandaged you, so congratulations on that little victory).

There was that time where you injured your hand (again) and was unable to properly eat your meal. Josephine offered to help you but the gremlin of a man already took it upon himself to feed you himself, all the while continuing the lecture that he started two days before (don't worry, you were much too focused on his very close proximity to you and not choking on the food that you didn't have the mental capacity to process whatever the fuck he was saying).

And then there was that time, one horrible autumn morning, that that fake redhead came barreling towards you, come to a full stop, and rather abruptly press his forehead into yours. You felt yourself short circuit for a moment, hyper aware of the fact that he smelled like nice cinnamon chocolate, both his warm, calloused hands gently pressed at your shoulders to keep you steady, that you didn't even realize that he was berating you for sporting a fever after overworking yourself for the nth time this season (not even when he hauled your ass up his shoulders and dumped you at the clinic himself. Valen wasn't sure if she was impressed or horrified).

None of these changes the fact that he was a wuss at being given compliments. But maybe, just maybe, he was also too dense at being able to pick up on the way his method of care ripped your heart into a torrent of emotion, turning you into the blushing, heart clutching disaster that you often thought of him as. And yeah, maybe you were a little lovestruck. Him too, possibly. Probably. Who the fuck knows. Neither of you surely don't.

(And between you and me, you wouldn't have it any other way.)

(You still hope the son of a bitch kisses you sometime soon, though.)

-0-

check out my masterlist lmao

[fleetingpetal]

sleepy nonsense featuring kabukimono :)

cw. none! this is a more ambiguous setting ( up to your heart to decide whether this is romantic or platonic ). i wrote this way past my bedtime so it's messy www

inazuma was always cold.

not that's anything new. it's common knowledge that inazuma's breeze, regardless of weather, always held onto the tender yet unforgiving chill of its winters. your breaths tangled with the wind, forming into cute little clouds before dissipating then making a return with each slow exhale against your hands that were entwined together for warmth.

ah, never forget the soft sand below your feet and the shore embracing your ankles briefly. they weren't as cold, but they sure weren't forgiving either. this was becoming a bit of a worry for the one walking beside you under the moonlight, noticing the subtle shades of sunset that seemed to coat your cheeks and tips of your fingers more.

“are you really okay? you look more cold...” kabukimono's gentle tone resounded in your ears, worried for you still. his gaze is hesitant to leave your figure, taking notice of your slightly tense shoulders. ‘is my veil not enough?’ he thought to himself, even with your haori on along with his thin veil; you still didn't appear comfortable with this weather.

he snapped himself out of his slowly growing panic at just the right time, hearing the good old,

“i'm alright, kabuki. it's not that cold.”

excuse you? ‘not that cold?’

no, absolutely not, he couldn't have that for a response. not this time. and you were a bit taken aback to see him knit his brows and purse his lips by the slightest bit... archons, not that face.

anything but kabukimono's displeased expression.

you directed your gaze to the faraway horizon, rendering him unable to see your defeated smile. all that reverberated in your ears was the faint sound of his thorough footsteps on the sand, standing right before you yet he still couldn't catch your attention like he often did. if there was anyone more stubborn than nagamasa, it was you. ( at least, your stubbornness acted up in more trivial settings like now )

“(name)?” the puppet called out with gentle reproach, well aware that the softer tone would prompt you to look at him again. and true to his hypothesis; you did. he wasn't able to suppress the soft smile that painted his face, unable to not pass up the opportunity of admiring the adorable shade of red adorning your cheeks, the tip of your nose and knuckles from the chilly weather.

unlike him.

nevertheless... he took in a subtle breath, along with a moment then uttered; “you don't have to lie to me, you know.” kabukimono practically embraced the reassurance you often exhibited tightly at that moment, even more so as he extended his arms for you. “come here.”

too gentle and warm of a soul as kabukimono was, not at all hesitating to give out the invitation just as you unhesitatingly accepted it. a step closer, then another, and another, until you found yourself shielded by his arms. the little things, like how the hem of his silken kimono occasionally grazed the edges of your legs, the fabric dancing to the chilly wind that was the tiniest bit warmer than his porcelain skin, all the more icy against yours.

but that could never quill the warmth that stemmed from this puppet's endearing actions. whatever the cold breeze gave to you, whatever the cold shore provided, was all but naught as you showered more in the comfort his embrace brought.

“do you feel better?” kabukimono murmured, and he was delighted to see you withdraw all the while appearing more relaxed now. though just as you were about to speak; trickles of rain began to pour down. how convenient.

whilst you smiled, his ecstatic giggle carried out the brief silence, his veil draping over both of you side by side while slowly but surely making haste to tatarasuna village. aware that one way or another, neither of you was going to make it back dry nor warm.

here's to another earful from toki.