#sorry it is not well done but the spirit was there right?

[mirensiart]

I saw someone playing Twilight Princess and it got me wondering.

Does Chain have a horse or an animal companion? If so, what do they think of Key being around?

If not, what's Chain's and Key's thoughts about animals? (Are seen they pets, for working, or beings in their own rights?)

Are there any animals that hate Chain or Key on sight?

Sorry if this has already been asked. I looked through the blog but I was fast scrolling so I could have missed it.

(Also, I'm pretty new to LoZ so I'm not sure how common having animal companions is in the series. I've only got pieces of BoTW/ToTK and Twilight Princess as a reference point so my bad if it is pretty uncomon.)

Sooo, in loz almost all links have partners/companions and then there's only a few of them who have animal companions too, who are mostly used for transportation

From what I remember, the only ones who do have animals are sky, time and twilight.

Wild is an outlier since he can have horses but they're optional and he doesn't have an emotional bond with his horses lol

So, Key&Chain are post wind waker and post spirit tracks

Anyway, in the wind waker, since the land was flooded to the point of everyone living in islands on a great sea, there aren't many animals, just seagulls and pigs mostly

And then in spirit tracks, since it's post wind waker there aren't many animals either, there are rabbits though, that I remember lol (if anyone remembers more animals from spirit tracks let me know pls)

I suppose that by Key&Chain's time comes along, there could be more animals around, like cuckoos, but I like to believe horses and cows are completely extinct by that time

Travel in land is done via train, like in spirit tracks, so horses and carriages aren't necessary at all for normal life

Anyway this was a long way to say that no, Chain doesn't have an animal companion since he doesn't need them for transportation lol so like most links, he just walks around

In wind waker pigs can get pretty mad and charge at u if u bother them too much, so maybe pigs would attack them randomly lmao and well if there are cuckoos then those too

[sunkissedliterarylightofchrist]

So. I think The Line is part of the Clancy Saga. And more specifically, it takes place right in the last part of Paladin Strait. Also for the purposes of this post, I'm throwing out all the Arcane imagery and solely focusing on Clancy. Sorry show fans.

Here's my take.

First we've got the setting. A mystical, dark place, full of stars. And everything in there seems very blurry and unfocused. Even when the camera is focused in on Tyler's face, its never clear, it seems like there's some sort of distortion or filter over it, not enough to fully point out exactly what's wrong, but enough that you can tell something's wrong.

I think it's describing Tyler's headspace. Or, more specifically, Clancy's, as he's in his own head, Nico smearing his throat. It's unfocused and dark and he's questioning everything that has lead up to this moment, struck with fear.

Next we've got the mysterious person, who's in Clancy's mind with him. Listening as Clancy speaks. And comforting him.

We don't get a clear picture of who it is. But I am convinced its the Torchbearer. Even if the silhouette isn't his. Because the lyrics are ever so clearly a cry for help. And what has Torchbearer done this entire time for Clancy? Helped him.

Then we've got this moment right here. The figure is walking away from Clancy, and I think they're almost beckoning Clancy to follow. When they go behind, Clancy's head is jerked unnaturally to the side, before it comes right back up into its normal position.

I think Clancy is fighting with himself here. He's asking for help, while also telling the person to stay away from him and his brokenness. Which would perfectly match up with these lyrics being a cry of help to the Torchbearer.

Now we have this.

Tell me it does not look exactly like seizing. I don't care if it's matching up with what is going on with the characters in Arcane, this is Tyler Joseph we are talking about here. Everything in this video was 100% intentional.

This could be representative of how Nico is in the middle of smearing Clancy. But I'm leaning towards how it could be how the Torchbearer is now saving Clancy from himself, by getting into Clancy's mind even more than just being in his headspace with him. He's got to pour his spirit into Clancy to save him. (Sound like the Holy Spirit anyone?)

The next sequence is interesting. Along with his eyes going white, his hair does as well. Which I think strengthens my theory that the Torchbearer is going inside of Clancy to help him. Then he rises up into the air, along with all the other figures of light.

I think the strongest case is that they're the Glorious Gone who the Bishops were using to fight the Banditos moments before. And who Clancy was perhaps about to join, with Nico smearing him again. This is it- it is finally over. He was going to die, or be trapped in the cycle forever. Again we've got the analogy of light, and him holding up his hand to block it from his face.

But then while all the other people are becoming more and more light and ascending, he rather returns to his normal self and comes back to the ground, and looks up. Contemplates. And then disappears.

The Torchbearer saved him from himself. And then Clancy leaves that bad mental headspace- and opens his eyes to face Nico, where the Torchbearer is ready to now physically save what he just spiritually saved.

[artemismatchalatte]

Me having to read stories where the femme characters are badly written to be really dumb or evil. (To the point where you the reader asks yourself Why would their butch even like them?)

And also in regards to all the WLW tv shows getting the mass cancelation. Because we cannot have anything nice it seems.

Even an old wlw show I was watching on streaming didn't finish because it too was cancelled after only two seasons. And it was a good show too! This has been a problem for a while.

[pa-pa-plasma]

i don't think i'll ever get over how people treat kids that aren't good in school as worthless no matter what. "oh it can't be that bad" my guy idk how to tell you this but the last time i went to a normal high school the principal called me into his office to brag about how he failed me in all of my classes before the semester was even finished & i should quit while i'm ahead cuz i'm too stupid ("officially" diagnosed as such by a school counselor & a psychiatrist!!) to succeed. & this is considered normal

[cq-studios]

KHUX Christmas Special! (I love holiday KH stories <3)

(For This)

So, this one I tried so hard to make Christmas-y but I kept falling into rabbit holes and going on tangents so it needs more edits (and stuff to be written… I aim to get back to it around Christmas time this year) but I can give you one or two sections I have done for now.

Here are two sections of the fic. I tried to make them so they were only some of the Christmas-y bits so the first part starts in the middle of that particular section and cuts off before it is finished and I don’t have the second part finished past where I left it off here.

I know it seems like a lot for a snippet but this fic is like 10 pages rn and it’s only half written so…

When Ephemer and Skuld reached the Foreteller’s Chambers the door was already open a crack. Ephemer shot his friend a questioning glance.

“Brain must’ve beaten us here,” Skuld told him, with a small shrug. 

He couldn’t say he was surprised, -- he wasn’t sure Brain ever slept -- but the other wielder normally kept the door closed.

Ephemer stepped towards the door, and with a gentle nudge it opened the rest of the way. His eyes widened.

 He and Skuld took their first few steps into the room. White garland was evenly wrapped on every fence. Lux bulbs hung off of them, collecting in the middle of each length and glowing softly in every colour under the sun. When he looked behind him he noticed a wreath on the door and when he shifted his gaze to the ground he saw red ribbon and unlit candles scattered across the floor. He stared at his surroundings in awe.

There were Christmas decorations everywhere!

Definitely not Brain then, he mused. 

Then, somewhat belatedly, he had another realization: it was Christmas time already?

Now that he thought about it, it had been snowing recently, and the days were getting shorter. With all the work and everything he must’ve lost track of time. 

It isn’t Christmas today, is it? Slightly alarmed, he double checked in his head, No, there’s still a few more days to get ready. Thank the Master, he definitely needed the time. He hadn’t even started collecting things for gifts yet.

And if he did forget he wasn’t sure Skuld would ever let him forget it. Especially considering Christmas day was also his birthday.

A nudge from Skuld’s elbow took him out of his thoughts. Ephemer shot her a confused glance and she tilted her head towards the table in the middle of the room. Following her motion, his eyes landed on Ven. The younger wielder was fast asleep on a chair across the room. His arms rested on the table in front of him, pillowing his head.

Had Ven done all this when they were asleep?

“You think he did this last night?” Skuld echoed Ephemer’s thoughts, scanning the room around her for what couldn’t have been the first time. She seemed about as mystified as he was. The room felt so much less brooding with the little lights and bright decorations scattered around. 

He hadn’t even realized he’d found it brooding until it wasn’t.

“Looks like it,” Ephemer’s gaze fell back onto the younger wielder, asleep at the table. He seemed so comfortable. “Should we wake him up?”

Skuld looked over at Ven as well. Her face twisted as she tried to come up with an answer.

Luckily for her, she didn’t have to.

Ven shifted, slowly lifting his head and rubbing his eyes. They must’ve woken him up with their talking, Ephemer realized with a pinch of guilt. 

The younger Union Leader blinked at them groggily a few times, then his eyes lit up. Ephemer watched as all the tiredness left the boy’s body and he leaped out of his chair.

“Do you guys like it?” Ven said excitedly, “I woke up really early to surprise you! I wanted to see your reaction but I- '' he looked down at the floor, his expression turning slightly disappointed as he continued, “I guess I fell asleep”.

“You’ll have a chance to see Brain’s reaction, don’t worry,” Ephemer said, at the same time as Skuld told Ven “You did a great job! It looks incredible!”. Ven perked up again at their encouragement.

As if on cue, Brain strolled through the doorway. He didn’t even look up as he entered the room, choosing to keep staring at the open book he held in front of him.

“My reaction to what?” He asked dryly.

Right before he tripped over a candle.

With amusement, Ephemer watched Brain swiftly catch himself and lower his book to look at the ground. The wielder blinked dumbfoundedly at the candles and ribbon strewn across the floor. 

But the confusion in his face only lasted a moment before his eyes flashed with recognition, “Oh”. 

After scanning the rest of the room quickly, he finally settled his gaze on the Ephemer and the others, “Merry Christmas,” he said flatly. Brain tilted his head down and went back to reading his book. He weaved his way through the mess, eventually settling in the chair Ven had been sleeping in earlier.

_____________________________________________________________

Everything is subject to change but here’s some bits of it

“Christmas is gonna be here soon!”

“Make sure you’re ready, it's almost Christmas!”

“Only three more days ‘til Christmas!”

Brain was never really a big Christmas guy, but he had to admit that watching Ven run around cheerily announcing that it was coming to anyone who dared look at him put a smile on his face. Something about the younger wielder's excitement was almost contagious. Maybe that was why he’d agreed to let Ven help with the Spirits in the first place.

He was low on ingredients, so the first task was going to get what he could at the Marketplace and, if he had to, the Moogle Shop. Anything he couldn’t find, he supposed he’d have to wait for the Dandelions to collect, now that Skuld and Ephemer were on strike. The process would take slightly longer in the short term, but he agreed with Skuld. Since there were more Dandelions, if they were told to look for it eventually he’d have a big enough stockpile that they wouldn’t even need to assign missions for it anymore.

The spirits would be holiday themed this time around, despite his disinterest. Ven throwing decorations all over the Foretellers Room only made him more confident in his decision. The Dandelions were sure to appreciate it.

He already had an idea of what animal he was going to base the spirit off of and how he was going to do it. 

While trying to make Bunstar, he’d accidentally made a head that looked a little like a reindeer, and because of Pigstar he already knew how to make hooves. It shouldn’t take him too many more materials to figure out how to make the rest of a reindeer. 

The only hard part left would be the antlers. But if his theory was correct, all he needed to do was take the Pigstar leg recipe, isolate the ingredients that made up the hooves, then find a way to thin, extend, and style the isolated hooves into the correct shape. 

Since spirits are constructed in pieces, he wouldn’t have to combine it with the head recipe and risk changing an aspect of the face. He should be able to easily attach the antlers onto the head the same way he attached limbs to the body.

As Brain closed in on the Marketplace, Ven returned to his side. The younger wielder scanned all the nearby stands then turned to face him.

“What are we looking for?” The boy asked.

Brain went through the list in his head before replying, “Power, Magic, and Speed gems, if we can find them here, then-”.

“Don’t they have those at the Moogle Shop?” Ven interrupted.

“Yes, but generally, when people sell them here, they’re cheaper,” Brain informed the younger wielder, slowing his pace slightly so he could check for the items more easily. Ven mimicked his movements. While his eyes searched the stands, he continued with his list, “We’ll also need starry sand, icy crystals, luminous moss, electrum ore, burnt coal, broken biscuits, herb vines, and spring water, so keep a lookout for those”.

Ven, who had been quietly repeating and putting up a finger for each item he listed, slowly lowered his hands and tilted his head upwards. The boy stared at him with somewhat hopeless eyes,  “That’s a lot of things to remember”.

“Just look for the starry sand and icy crystals then, they’re what we’ll need the most of”.

Speaking of which.

[rememberwren]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Easy breezy beautiful premature ejaculation. Hypersexual!Simon/fem!reader. Discussion of edging. Cumming untouched.

-

“If we do this,” he says around his cigarette, “then we do it my way.”

“I’ve never done this before,” you admit cautiously, turning your hands palm up as if to show you have no weapons, no tricks up your sleeve. I’m innocuous, your posture says. His own says: I’m still deciding, with his tense shoulders and narrowed eyes. “This weird, femdom thing. So I appreciate your guidance. Because I know fuck all—“

“You’re no femdom—Jesus, fuck, I can’t talk about it anymore,” he grits out. He takes a step back and away, creating distance, exhaling a plume of smoke that makes him look strangely ethereal in the evening light. Against your will, your eyes flicker down to just below his belt buckle and oh god. He’s hard. 

“Just from talking about it?”

The look he gives you could melt ice. It could sublimate it. You cringe, knowing you were in the wrong, wishing you could reach out and snatch the words right out of the air. He’s trusting you with this. The last thing he needs is to feel like a joke. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I shouldn’t have—you’re not a, a science experiment or something—“

“Wouldn’t mind that so much. Might figure out what the fuck’s wrong with me. Less interested in being treated like I’m part of a circus troupe,” he grumbles. He drops the cigarette and grinds it to ash beneath his boot. He asks: “Inside?” 

-

Gingerly, so gingerly, he undoes the button of his jeans and unzips them. He holds his breath as he works the denim down his thick thighs. God, is he built: muscles made for more than just show. His history is inscribed on his body in its strength and in its scars, scars of white and pale pinks that darken to purple in the lamplight. He’s wearing boxer briefs, straining at the front from his erection, and they are soaked. You’re surprised that he hasn’t soaked straight through to his jeans. 

“Don’t look,” he grits out through his teeth. You look away, unsure where to cast your eyes to, and settle for shutting them. He explains: “Can’t take the way you’re looking at me.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, feeling your face flush hot. 

“Just—let me—” you hear the sound of fabric rustling. He kicks off his jeans—you can tell by the soft sound of them landing against the floor off the side of the bed. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck.” 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, eyes squeezed shut, hands clenching in your lap. 

“Nothing just—fuck. No way I’m going to last.” He sounds bitterly disappointed. 

“That’s the point of this, right? To get better at lasting?” 

He sighs, a long-suffering sound, like this discussion is well worn and frustrating to him. Something in you shrivels, and it takes your body with it as best as it can, sending your shoulders hunching inwards, your head ducking down. You pick at one of your nails by feel alone, eyes still closed, and nearly jump when his fingers brush your knee. 

“Sorry,” he mutters. “You’re right. That’s what this is for. Might as well get used to embarrassing myself.” 

“That’s the spirit." 

He snorts. More fabric rustles, and at length he says: “Alright. You can look. Just…you can look.” 

You open your eyes hesitantly. His cock is right there—and Jesus. It makes sense, proportionally, but it is frightening in a very real sense. You’re already doing the math, measuring in your head and comparing to your past precedents. Ghost would have them all beat, quite comfortably, in length and girth. He’s cut, which surprises you, but isn’t a turnoff. He keeps himself landscaped nicely, which you appreciate, even if it isn’t necessary. 

He is flushed a ruddy pink, the head darker than the rest. As you stare, it jerks, a bead of precum welling at the tip. Suddenly one of his large, scarred hands reaches down and grips the base of his cock in a painful hold, hissing in a breath through his teeth. 

“Can’t look at me like that,” he admonishes again. 

“Like what?” you ask, a little defensive. You’re just looking! You have to look, right? 

“Like you want it,” he mutters. 

God, does he really have no idea? No inkling of how badly you want to sit on that monster in his hands? No notion of how wet you’ve been since your conversation in the parking lot? Sure you aren't like him, not about to spring off if the breeze was just right, but you are anything but unaffected. Still, it seems like the wrong moment to educate him on your attraction to him and his cock, so you do your best to morph your expression into one of unimpressed ambivalence and hoped it helps. 

“I’m ready when you are,” you say, interrupting his deep breathing exercises. He nods but doesn’t give you the go-ahead, not for another minute or two, until his chest stops heaving and he can remove his hand from the vice grip he has around his balls. His cock has a near purple tinge, and you wonder if maybe he should have rubbed one out in the bathroom beforehand just to take the edge off. Oh well, it’s a thought for next time. 

“Go ahead,” he says, like he’s giving you permission to pull the trigger on him during a game of Russian Roulette. 

You reach out—his cock twitches, a nice warm welcome if you’ve ever seen one, but you hesitate. Your hand is dry. Should you ask for lube? How does he usually jerk off? Dry? You have a feeling he doesn’t mind the discomfort; he seems like he has a self-destructive streak a mile wide. His eyes are fixed at a point on the ceiling, his chest unmoving as he holds his breath. You decide that some sort of lubrication is better than none—so you lick a broad stripe up your palm. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, a little punched-out sound. Sometime between opening your mouth and licking your palm, his eyes had transferred from the ceiling to your face, to the flash of your tongue and your wet palm. His eyes widen, irises swallowed up by the pupils, and he says again, more urgently: “Oh fuck.” 

He reaches down to grip the base of his cock again, but it is too late: he cums. His abs are thrown into sharp relief as he tenses with each pulse, cock jerking against his brutal grip. He doesn’t even jerk himself off—just ruins it as you stare with your mouth open and your hand wet, watching him splatter seed against the coarse line of hair that runs from his belly button to his cock all because he watched you lick your hand. 

“Fuuuuuuck,” he groans, throwing one arm across his eyes, breathing heavily. His mouth is flushed a pretty red, like he has been kissing. His hand clenches into a fist as he says: “I’m sorry. I tried not to.” 

“It’s okay,” you say, your nearly brain blue-screening from how turned on you are. You lower your hand and wipe it dry on your leggings. “That’s what this practice is for—so you don’t do it when it really counts. We can try again tomorrow or something.” 

He snorts. “Tomorrow? Give me five fucking minutes.” 

[mwagneto]

hungarian/nomadic magyar tumblr circa 998AD dashboard simulator

🏞️ vándor-ló-979 Follow

not yall still spreading emese's foundation myth??? she literally claims she fucked a bird????? like either she's lying or she cheated and she's trying to cover it up or well. i dont even want to consider the third option

🪺 magánügyek Follow

tengri forbid women do anything???

735 notes

🦅 szél-könnyű-szárnyán-szállj Follow

okay im sick of the discourse let's do this.

8,572 notes

🐎 istván-rovására Follow

that took so long lmao -> !!!!!!!∧◇ᛏ⋈∧

481 notes

🐴 csillagösvény Follow

i'm so serious rn if you support """istván""" in any way just unfollow and block me. we do NOT need him or his dumbass god and what he's been doing to our people to spread his religion is shameful.

🐴 csillagösvény Follow

btw we all know your real name is vajk stop larping as a christian it's EMBARRASSINGGGG

✝️ esztergom-örökké Follow

love seeing my mutuals reblogging this /s anyway op has multiple posts on their blog supporting quartering and human sacrifice. in case you were wondering. anyway stand with István

🐴 csillagösvény Follow

1) we dont even do human sacrifices, are you fucking stupid??? show me ONE post where i talk about that. 2) are you seriously forgetting that your bestie istván LITERALLY QUARTERED HIS UNCLE?????

#sorry to put this dumbass on the dash😭 dont even engage just block them #ur not making it up the tree of life lmao #discourse

3,264 notes

🌅 bolygó-kárpáti Follow

friendly reminder that just because you're white passing doesn't mean you're not a real magyar!! people with mixed parents are just as valid <3

🏇 attila-népe Follow

cranky coz ur ancestors decided to mix with the europeans arent you

🧺 lemezelő Follow

isnt your girlfriend literally frankish????

🏇 attila-népe Follow

you had to have done some serious stalking to find that💀 and first of all i didn't have a choice, my parents picked the tribe, and second of all she's not my "girlfriend" i got her via ritual kidnapping (WITH consent. before anyone gets weird)

🌐 a-kiber-kovács Follow

Couldn't you have kidnapped another magyar woman? Or someone from another mongoloid tribe?

🔅 hadúrsimp Follow

ohh sure so now human pet guy is gonna chime in to advocate for the kidnapping of our women while being lowkey racist. what are you even doing on nomadblr????

🌅 bolygó-kárpáti Follow

what the fuck happened to my post

19,276 notes

🪔 rakabonciás Follow

for the nth time, you're only a true shaman if you were born with teeth OR with extra fingers OR in the sac. the rest of you are faking & we can tell.

🦅szél-könnyű-szárnyán-szállj Follow

okay people keep spreading this but this is literally just wrong?? like congrats on the 6 fingers op im glad u and Little Golden Father have a special connection (genuinely) but like. táltos and sámán and mágus and garabonciás and javas etc are all different things with completely different requirements and life paths which you should definitely know if you're claiming to be one?? especially since your post says shaman but you're listing the criteria for a táltos, and your username looks like a play on garabonciás so. which is it🤔 maybe get your facts in order before trying to gatekeep

anyway don't listen to op!! your connection to the Upper World is yours alone and you're the best judge of what the Fathers and Mothers want your path in life to be!!

646 notes

🛐 mea-culpa Follow

It breaks my heart that the majority of my people still refuse to see the One True God and insist on sticking to their pagan spirits. I fear that when judgement day comes, we will all be wiped out thanks to their foul godless ways.

🐴 csillagösvény Follow

how tf am i godless when i literally have dozens of gods? little mothers and little fathers are in everything all around us & it must suck ass to live in a world where you're not surrounded by the small gods that inhabit everything. manifesting that the fene and the guta tag team beat your ass tonight

🔅 hadúrsimp Follow

hadúr will literally strike op down personally. he told me himself. whispered it to me sweetly even

🐴 csillagösvény Follow

while i agree with you, i feel like you might also have ulterior motives, nomadblr user hadúrsimp

#but live your truth! doubly so on the posts of these freak repressed bible lovers. meanwhile on the #COOL side of magyarhood we walk around butt ass naked!!! op have fun never experiencing joy ever again tho #discourse

198 notes

👑 sanctus-stephanus Follow

posting from an alt so i don't get cancelled but lowkey i'm starting to think koppány was right.... maybe this christianity thing isn't gonna work out after all

👑 sanctus-stephanus Follow

WRONG BLOG

👑 sanctus-stephanus Follow

THIS WAS A JOKE. IGNORE THIS

🪺 magánügyek Follow

ISTVÁN????????????? 💀

[put-me-through-the-wall]

Girl Next Door

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x reader

Word count: 1.8k

Summary: Simon is a simple man who doesn't ask for much. Just a bit of peace to come home to. When suddenly you pop in to interrupt his tranquility. Maybe he doesn't completely hate it...

A/N: This is fluff if you squint. Slow burn?? This will probably just be part one if y'all dig the concept. Let me know what you think.

━━━━⊱♡⊰━━━━

Simon loves sitting on his balcony in the evening. He loved it before his new neighbor moved in. He wasn't the type to be overly concerned about the actions of other tenants. If someone was too loud, he'd just turn up the television. Banging from upstairs, he'd play some music. Smoking pot outside, that's fine he smokes cigarettes. And he was never one to meddle in others personal lives. He sought sanctuary in his alone time. 

While unlocking his front door one day he couldn't ignore the soft grunting coming from down the hallway behind him. He turns to see someone coming out of the stairwell with a box so big he can only make out a pair of hands on the sides and little legs coming out the bottom. He watched as you waddled all the way to the door right next to his own. You drop the box with a huff, leaning forward on the cardboard to catch your breath. 

"Hi neighbor," you greet between pants. You're wearing some baggy clothes and a beat up baseball cap, wide eyes staring up at him from under its brim. Just a hint of sweat speckling your temples. "Sorry for the noise, I promise I'm not a normally noisy person." you smile. 

"Hope not," he grunts and enters his own residence. Closing the door firmly without a second look. 

𝜗𝜚

The next day while he's drinking his morning coffee and going through his emails he is disturbed by a politely quiet knock on the door. When he looks through the peephole he sees you again. This time with your hair down, wearing a sundress. Looking a lot more put together. You're holding a tray in your hands. He opens the door but does not release the door chain, leaving only a crack in the door to reveal himself.

"Can I help you," he grumbles in a flat tone.

"Hey neighbor!" You don't let the small allowance of space dampen your spirit or at least you don't show it. "I made some cookies. I'd like to think it's good luck to christen a new place by making something sweet in it. The recipe ended up making way more than I planned for so I figured it would be the neighborly thing to do to offer you some." You give your brightest smile hoping to win him over. 

"I don't like sweets," he states.

"Oh, really? I thought everyone liked sweets..." Your shoulders slump the smallest bit as you pause for a moment in thought. "Well, I've got a baked ziti in the oven. It should be ready in about thirty minutes. I could pop by and drop off some when it's done, if you'd like?"

"Yeah, no thanks." He doesn't allow you to respond when he closes the door in your face. Simon is a distrustful man by nature and he won't let a sweet girl with a tray of goodies change that. They did smell really good though. He can't help himself when he looks through his peephole to watch you leave. You let out a defeated sigh and shuffle back to your apartment next door. 

𝜗𝜚

A few days later he runs into you again. He steps into the elevator, presses the button for the lobby, when he hears a familiar voice calling. 

"Wait, hold the elevator please!" You shout down the hallway. You jog towards the lift, trying to get your purse on your shoulder with one hand while balancing your phone, keys, and a travel mug in the other. Your jacket is only half on and the straps on your shoes are undone. Simon groans under his breath but, out of a second of sympathy, he holds his arm out to block the doors from closing. 

"Thank you," you say breathlessly and duck underneath his outstretched arm. "I'm a running little behind this morning." 

"No problem." His eyes remain forward, watching the doors slide shut as the two of you start descending. You finish putting on your jacket and run your fingers to settle your frazzled hair. 

"Can you hold this for a second?" 

"Uh.." He doesn't get a chance to answer when you're thrusting your warm cup into his hands. He watches as you shove your phone and keys into your purse then bend down to finish buckling the straps on your shoes. Unbothered when your skirt rides up your leg exposing your upper thigh. 

You stand back up, straightening your blouse. "Thanks again" You take the cup back allowing him to shove his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "Hey, I'm sorry if I came off as strong the other day."

"It's fine"

"I'm not the best with first impressions." He doesn't respond so you continue. "I didn't mean to intrude either. I'm sure you're a very busy man. Me too, I'm pretty busy with work and stuff. I write for the paper. Well, I am writing the cooking column right now but I'm hoping to get bumped up soon. Maybe something like crime would be cool. What about you? What do you do for work?"

The elevator's ding signals you've arrived at the lobby. As the doors open Simon turns to his head slowly to look at you and nods towards the open doors. 

"Ladies first" 

He wasn't fooled by your clumsy persona, he could feel an ulterior motive in you. He watched as you sauntered off. You are much more professional now, as you pull out a pair of sunglasses and slide them on. He watched the way your hips swayed in your tight skirt. You looked over your shoulder and smiled sweetly at him. Simon waits until you're pushing open the glass paneled double doors before he heads out of the lift himself. 

As you make it onto the city sidewalk, a man runs right into you, causing your coffee to spill down the front of your shirt. You gasp as the hot liquid splashes onto your freshly ironed blouse and down your chest. The man hardly pauses before redirecting around you looking irritated. You spin back around with a huff and shove back into the lobby, pacing to the elevator. 

"Hold the door, please" you groan, marching back while Simon blocks the doors again, containing his laugh into a tight smirk.

𝜗𝜚

Whenever you caught a glimpse of Simon you were quick to skip over and start a conversation. Which was quite a bit. It seemed he was always running into you. The elevator, the apartment gym, while taking out trash, in the parking garage, as he unlocks his door. Most of the conversation being one sided. He was starting to learn more about your life, all the information against his will, of course. 

You were a recipe columnist, also a great cook. You liked dogs but really wanted a cat. You were a single child. You moved here to get a fresh start after a bad relationship. You don't have many friends, that one is pretty obvious.

Then one night, while Simon is trying to enjoy a smoke outside on his balcony he's disturbed by loud shouting in your apartment. Not in your usual bubbly tone, no you sounded angry. He couldn't understand the words you were saying through the glass of your patio door. Then a deep voice is shouting back at you. After a few minutes of listening to the back and forth, your front door slams and then there is stillness. The moment is interrupted when you storm onto your own balcony, slamming the glass door shut behind you.

You brace yourself on the railing edge. He watches your shoulders heave with a few heavy breaths then start to shutter. Your head falls weakly into your hands and you begin to cry. Cry hard at that, sobbing that shakes your whole body. You cover your mouth to keep yourself quiet but your pathetic whimpers still slip though. 

For a moment Simon actually feels bad for you. In fact he feels angry, angry at whoever could have made you feel that way. Sure, you could be annoying at times. Okay annoying all the time but he has never heard you say a harsh word about anyone before. He can't fathom what you could have possibly done to deserve such harshness. You are a sweet girl. He considers saying something to comfort you in some way but after another minute of watching you cry meekly into your hands he thinks maybe not. It would be better to let you be alone. His own patio door is still open, perhaps and can slip back inside with you noticing...

Then he drops his lighter. 

Your head turns sharply to the direction of the clattering plastic against the floor. You lock your watery eyes with Simon and he feels an unexpected pang in his heart. You swiftly wipe your eyes and brush your ruffled hair in place the best you can. Even in the dim lighting illuminating from the city below he can still see how flushed your cheeks have become. 

You draw in a shaky inhale before speaking. "How long have you been out here?"

"Not long," He sees your eyes flick down to the half smoked cigarette between his fingers, giving away his lie. "You want one?" He asks, unsure how to comfort you. 

"I don't smoke," then a pause. "Can I just have a bit of yours?" Your voice is so feeble it's almost a whisper. As you look at him with big round eyes and pouty lips, he can't deny your request. 

He passes the half burnt cigarette over the small stone wall separating your balconies. You're shaky fingers brush against his, careful not to drop it. You bring it to your lips to pull a slow drag. Your eyes flutter shut before you release the puff of smoke, carefully not to blow it in his direction. Simon watches the cloud drift out of your mouth, disappearing into the chilled night air. You lean on the wall connecting your balcony to Simon's. You stare down at the glowing red ember emitting a thin plume of smoke. 

"You alright?" It's him this time who breaks the silence.

"Yeah," you mumble, not lifting your gaze. 

"You sure?"

"No," you release a tired sigh. 

He waits a beat before speaking. "You told me you weren't gonna be a noisy neighbor."

A smile begins to creep onto your face. "I'm sorry, I broke my promise. How can I make it up to you?" When you look at him now, he sees a shimmer return back to your eyes. 

You pass the cigarette back over to him. It's basically down to the filter when he brings it to his own lips and takes a final drag, blowing the smoke between the two of you. It disperses around your features while you watch him. He stubs it out in an ashtray on his little patio table. The cool night dries his chapped mouth. He licks his lips and tastes an unfamiliar cherry flavoring. He looks down at the butt in his ashtray and observes the faintest red ring of lipgloss on the smushed filter. 

"You know, I could go for some baked ziti."

━━━━⊱♡⊰━━━━

Part II

Masterlist

Join the taglist here to be updated about new stories!

ﾒ𝟶

[roosterr]

Hi idk if you're accepting requests but I literally just read the amnesia fic, and I was wondering if I could request where reader suddenly remembers everything, and sprints around base trying to find them, and just jumps on them crying and apologizing for forgetting them. Just some really fluffy comfort? It's okay if you don't want to write this lol

the 141 when you have amnesia – p2

note: i have received your therapy bills :)

wc: 5.2k

warnings: still a bit angsty I'm sorry I couldn't resist, fluff, hurt/comfort, mild injury and blood, happy endings for all I promise

ao3

[part one]

price

✹ john thought your initial reaction was a good sign. you seemed to be taking things well, considering the extent of your injuries, and it was only a matter of time before your memories returned.

✹ your spirits are high when you're reintroduced to the team, and though you don't remember them either you do say they feel familiar, which he takes as a good sign for your recovery.

✹ when you're finally discharged, he takes you home, to the house that the two of you bought together. he shows you the photos of the two of you that decorate the walls, fondly retelling the stories of each one to you even though you were there, and these are your pictures.

✹ if you notice the way he chokes up when you get to your wedding photos, you don't say anything.

✹ like the true gentleman he is, he insists on sleeping on the sofa and leaving you to take the bed, despite your protests about it being his home too. even though you were receptive, he would never risk making you uncomfortable by sleeping in the same bed when he was, essentially, a stranger.

✹ in all your years of marriage, he's never slept on the sofa before. the two of you rarely go to bed without each other, apart from the times you're separated by your job, and consequently he finds himself not getting much rest.

✹ you're still on leave while you're physically recovering from being in a coma, so john has to go to work without you every morning, something he also hasn't done since you got married. he wishes he could bring you with him anyway, just to have you near him, but he knows that's selfish and you still need time.

✹ the base is dull without you.

✹ again, he keeps up the appearance that he's okay, and maybe it's a little more true this time now that you're actually awake, but he still feels your absence like a weight on his shoulders.

✹ the other three are pleased amongst themselves about your recovery, gaz and soap constantly asking him how you are; and he knows they mean well, but it's still irritating because how could you be okay? you don't even remember your own husband, nothing about this is okay.

✹ he keeps his grievances to himself though. he's still their captain, he can't afford to fall apart when he still has a job to do.

✹ he's woken up one night by soft footsteps in the living room. his neck aches as his eyes snap open, every sense on high alert until he realises it's just you. a quiet grunt escapes him as he sits up, massaging his sore muscles from sleeping on the sofa.

✹ when the sound of muffled crying reaches his ears, he's immediately on his feet, his heart racing as he shuffles over to where you're standing with a hand covering your mouth.

✹ he presses a hand to your back, rubbing soothing circles between your shoulder blades. you don't look at him, your crying only increasing in volume now you're not worried about waking him.

✹ now that he's right next to you, he sees through the darkness that you're holding one of your wedding photos. it's his favourite picture, the one where he's lifting you with an arm around your waist and you're both gazing into each other's eyes with the most lovestruck expression on your faces.

✹ "i– i know i love you, so wh-why can't i just remember you?" you sputter in between sobs, and you might as well have just ripped his heart out of his chest, because he can't stop the way he breaks down at your words.

✹ john wraps both arms tightly around you, caging you to his chest and nestling your head into the crook of his shoulder while pressing his own tear-stained face into the top of your head.

✹ "it's alright, love–" his voice cracks pitifully, and he's never felt quite as hopeless as he does in this moment. "it'll be alright, you'll remember, i promise…"

✹ he's not sure who he's trying to convince, you or himself as you both sink to the floor in each other's embrace. you stay like that for hours, crying for your lost memory into the early morning.

✹ after that, he can't be bothered to pretend he's okay anymore.

✹ he starts drinking again, shamelessly in the middle of the day and grumbling at gaz and ghost when they wrestle the bottle away from him. he knows you'd disapprove, but the toll of lying to himself and everyone around him has caught up. all he wanted was his partner back, the love of his life, you.

✹ the others try to knock some sense into him, but talking to him becomes like going back and forth with a brick wall. gaz even gets kate on the phone to yell at him, but nothing seems to get through. he orders them to leave him alone, stop asking about you, and it really feels like he's lost hope.

✹ it goes on like this for a week straight, nearly a full month since you first woke up.

✹ and then one boring afternoon, there's a commotion outside his office. john hears cheers and shouts from down the corridor, but he can't bring himself to care enough to investigate.

✹ he's not in the mood to celebrate whatever it is they're cheering about anyway.

✹ john's just about to stand and yell at them to shut up, but then you're suddenly standing at his door, slamming it behind you as you rush over to his desk. his face must be the picture of surprise as he swivels in his chair to follow you as you approach, opening his legs for you to stand between them.

✹ his breath catches in his throat as you cup his face, your touch so tender it has his heart hammering against his sternum like the very first time you touched him all those years ago. he plants his hands firmly on your hips, too afraid of getting his hopes up to say a single word as he watches you get closer.

✹ your face hovers just above his, warm breath fanning over his face as you inch ever closer. he sees your eyes glistening before they flutter shut, brushing your lips against his with an anticipation that has his skin tingling.

✹ when you pull away, his eyes stay closed, but he can hear the smile in your voice when you whisper,

✹ "i remember you now."

✹ his heart might’ve actually stopped at your words, surprise shooting through him like a bolt of lightning as his eyes snap open.

✹ in a second, he's lifting you by the waist and dropping you onto his desk, uncaring for the various papers that he brushes out of the way to make room for you.

✹ he can't stop the overjoyed laugh that rumbles in his chest now he's the one standing between your legs, gripping your face and pushing his lips back against your with all the passion he's been bottling up during your recovery.

✹ you smile into the kiss too, wrapping your arms securely around his neck, running your fingers up his neck and through his hair. it feels like a weight has lifted, something heavy in the back of his mind finally dissipating and allowing him to relax into your hold.

✹ the two of you break away after a moment, keeping him close to you as you press your forehead to his. "i'm sorry that i ever forgot you."

✹ "i can think of a way you can make it up to me, love…"

gaz

✹ you're so apologetic about your amnesia, it breaks his heart all over again. what's worse is that he has no idea what to do; he doesn't want to try and force you to remember, that would just stress you out more, but he wants you to remember him so desperately he feels it ache in his bones.

✹ in the end, he decides to just let things play out. he wants you to recover at your own pace, and not just because of him and how he feels about you.

✹ he also doesn't say a word about your relationship, but with how he initially reacted, he's sure you got the idea. you don't mention it either, which admittedly hurts a little, but he's sure the confusion of waking up to having a boyfriend who's name you don't even know is worse than how he feels about it.

✹ kyle vows to take care of you the moment you're discharged. he takes you to your room, shows you where everything is, makes sure you know where he is should you ever need anything, and he even introduces you to the others again.

✹ you still remember your job and how to do it so, once you're physically well enough, you get right back to it. they carry on as normal, the rest of the taskforce – assimilating you back into their nights of drinking and fucking around as if you'd never left.

✹ kyle still doesn't feel right about it.

✹ he doesn't want to treat you like glass, because you're exactly the same as when he first met you. you're still quick-witted, stubborn, and one of the toughest people he knows, you just… don't know him.

✹ it kills him on the inside, but he stays strong for you; the last thing he wants is to become the mess of a man he was when you were out, he doesn't want you to see him like that. he sorely misses spending his nights with you, and talking endlessly about your days to each other. he sends you longing glances every time you look away, wondering if you'd ever feel the same again.

✹ if you can go back to living normally, why can't he?

✹ but as the weeks go by, kyle notices how you start to withdraw, the loneliness that blocks out the light in your eyes that he loves so much. you fade into the background of conversations, sticking to listening rather than engaging.

✹ you watch them from afar, and he still knows you well enough to know what's going through your head. feeling somehow like you belong and also like an outsider at the same time, wishing you could understand the inside jokes you were a part of.

✹ he wishes more than anything that there was something he could do – make you understand that you're wanted, and you're a valuable part of the team even without your memories, but any time he brings it up you simply brush him off with that far away look in your eyes.

✹ three weeks go by before anything changes.

✹ it's the first time in a while they finally have an afternoon off, so of course they decide to spend it playing football on one of the fields within the bounds of the base. soap and ghost on one team, gaz and the captain on the other, with you spectating and keeping score on the sidelines. 

✹ kyle offered to sit out if you wanted to play, but you'd brushed him off with the excuse of wanting to rest and read your book, laying out your jacket on the grass to sit on.

✹ he could tell you weren't all there, but he didn't know how to help you; so he just reassured you that you could call him over if you needed anything, and left you to guard his own jacket and water bottle before running off to join the game.

✹ the whole time he was sprinting around the field, he couldn't stop looking over to you over by the sidelines. he wasn't with it, he hadn't been since you woke up, really, and the others could tell.

✹ price abruptly calls half-time, clapping gaz on the shoulder and giving him a knowing look. "just talk to 'em, before it eats you alive." he chides, pushing him in your direction before he can think to protest.

✹ with a deep sigh and a glace backwards to the others, who shoo him away without a word, he jogs over to where you're sitting. the way the late afternoon sun hits you just right stops kyle dead in his tracks when he catches how it glows in your eyes. he feels a pull in his chest as he approaches you.

✹ you look up from your book as his shadow reaches you, shooting him a tiny smile as he drops himself next to you. he takes a swig from his water bottle as he catches his breath, extremely conscious of the way your teammates are pretending not to watch him while he comes up with the words.

✹ "so, who's winning then?" you ask, turning so you're facing him. he sees how your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes.

✹ "aren't you supposed to be keepin' score?" kyle chuckles, shifting slightly closer to you as you look away with a bashful expression. he allows your hands to brush, wanting nothing more than to lock your fingers together.

✹ "i'm not really paying attention."

✹ there's a beat of silence and that helpless feeling is back as he watches you look back out to the field, where the others are still kicking the ball back and forth.

✹ "how you doin'?" he asks, keeping his voice low as he leans in even closer to you. your mouth opens to respond, that slightly off smile back on your face, but before you can he places his hand fully over yours, giving it a comforting squeeze. "actually."

✹ you sigh, heavy and tired, and bring your gaze back over to his. "it's… hard." you begin, your eyes betraying the internal struggle. "and i'm… i know, before, we were–"

✹ he blinks and you're being sent over backwards by a football flying into your face with a smack that makes kyle's ears ring.

✹ immediately he's crouching over you, helping you sit back up and pressing the sleeve of his jacket to your nose, uncaring for the blood that stains it.

✹ "you alright?" he murmurs, gently holding your face as he inspects your nose. you nod, wincing at the movement, and take the sleeve of his jacket from him.

✹ once he's sure you're okay, his vision turns red with anger. it's pretty obvious who kicked the ball when he whips around to see soap kneeling on the ground with his head in his hands.

✹ "oi!" kyle shouts, sending him a deadly glare as he gets up. "soap, what the fuck!"

✹ the man in question looks up from his hands, an incredibly guilty look on his face. "i'm sorry pal! i dinnae ken what happened!"

✹ "just piss off, you prick!"

✹ kyle looks back to you, crouching down again with a concerned frown; but you're already looking at him, the silhouette of his own form reflected in your wide eyes. your nose is still dripping blood, but you drop his jacket and your hands to your lap anyway, mouth agape as you stare back at him.

✹ "what's wrong? are you–"

✹ you cut him off by tackling him to the ground with your arms around his neck, squeezing a surprised 'oof' from him as you land on top of his chest. one of his hands flies to your waist to steady you, the other carefully cradling your head.

✹ "i remember!" you cry, an elated laugh bubbling up as fresh tears wet your cheeks.

✹ kyle lets out a relieved laugh of his own, craning his neck to plant his lips firmly on yours with an infectious grin. in the background the others groan at the display of affection, but neither of you pay them any mind.

✹ eventually the two of you pull away, a wide smile still plastered on both of your faces as you get up from the grass. he pulls you in with the hand that still hasn't moved from your waist and leans to whisper in your ear,

✹ "fancy kickin' soap's arse?"

✹ "you read my mind."

soap

✹ johnny's enthusiastic with your recovery. anyone could've guessed that from the moment you woke up he'd be doting, eager to help you in any way you could need.

✹ yes, you didn't remember him, but be was just so ecstatic that you were okay – apart from the amnesia – that he couldn't find it in himself to be disappointed about it. you'd get your memories back soon enough, and then everything would go right back to the way it was.

✹ sometimes he gets a little carried away, forgets that while you are technically in a relationship, he's not much more than a stranger to you right now. more than once you end up having to ask him for some space because he's so incredibly touchy, and you're not sure how to handle it.

✹ you also request a temporary room to sleep in while you recover, separate from him. johnny's not sure how he feels about it.

✹ he feels that sinking feeling in his chest whenever you push him back with a hand on his chest, a polite smile tugging at your lips. it's disheartening, but he tries not to let it get to him. you'll remember soon, and then this will all be in the past.

✹ maybe you'll even laugh about it, how you could ever forget your wonderful boyfriend.

✹ he takes it upon himself to read up on amnesia, so he can better understand how to help you in any way you might need. once he learns that exposure to memories that you've lost can help your recovery, he eagerly convinces you to let him show you places that have meaning to you and your relationship with him.

✹ you agree, and he didn't actually need to do much convincing because you seem just as interested in the idea as him. he knocks on your door the following evening, offering you a single rose before whisking you away with a charming smile.

✹ he takes you on your first date all over again, with the same level of enthusiasm as before. he treats you to dinner at a relatively nice restaurant, telling you all about how the two of you got together in the first place, and memories you have together. he even orders you dessert, recalling with a chuckle how he accidentally guessed your favourite on your actual first date.

✹ once you both finish eating, he guides you by the hand to the canal for the second half of the date, a romantic moonlit stroll by the water. he pulls you close with an arm around your shoulders, meeting your eyes with a fond smile and a blush dusting his cheeks.

✹ "hold on…" you mutter, a pensive expression taking over your face as you stop walking. you turn to gaze at the water, seemingly working something out in your mind. "this… this is where gaz fell into the river that one time, right?"

✹ johnny's heart misses a beat, his eyes lighting up with renewed, excited hope as he grins at you. "you remember?"

✹ "a little, yeah," you smile, dropping your gaze and hands from his with a sorry scratch at the back of your neck. "the rest is still blank, though…"

✹ his smile falters, but he's quick to make sure you don't see his disappointment by pulling you into a reassuring hug. "that's still somethin'! you'll be good as new in nae time!"

✹ the next morning, he finds you and gaz in the rec room on one of the couches, talking animatedly with each other. that familiar shine is in your eyes, the sight johnny's been missing for the last few months. it makes his heart feel light, finally seeing you acting like your normal self again after so long.

✹ he approaches you both, watching you fondly as you talk and laugh with gaz, but his good mood is soured when you only briefly acknowledge his arrival when he sits down across from you, before resuming your conversation with gaz. his brow twitches downwards.

✹ gaz is one of your closest friends, and he’s glad you remembered him. he's happy that you got part of your memory back, even if it wasn't a part that included him.

✹ this was a good thing. you'd remember him soon, he was sure of it.

✹ a few more days pass until anything else notable happens. while you were in the gym together, you told him you felt a headache coming on, so he offered to walk you to the infirmary for some painkillers. the casual conversation you made on the way wouldn't have bothered him before, but he just couldn't shake the image of you and gaz being so comfortable, while he's still stuck on the outside.

✹ he doesn't say anything though. making you feel bad about it won't solve anything, and it's not like you're doing it on purpose, he knows you wouldn't do that to him. you were just excited to have a familiar face, that's all.

✹ while you're waiting for the medic on call, your head suddenly snaps to attention and you get that same pensive look on your face as that night by the river.

✹ "you got something?" johnny asks, bringing his hand up to rest on your upper back. he doesn't want to get his hopes up, but he can't help the way his heart flutters with optimism.

✹ you nod, a smile growing on your features. "i remember that time lt. dislocated my shoulder, and price basically forced him apologise to me," you laugh, thankfully facing away from johnny as his lips turn downwards, "god, he was pissed, it was honestly kinda funny."

✹ "what, uhm…" he lightly clears his throat, hoping you don't hear the dejection in his voice, "what about me?"

✹ you meet his eyes again with an apologetic shake of your head. "i'm sorry, soap…"

✹ "yer fine, it's–" he swallows thickly, waving you off with an exaggerated smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, "this is good, it's progress."

✹ since then, he's given you more space. it's clear to him that his efforts aren't helping you remember him, it actually feels like it's having the opposite effect. of course, he's glad you remember your friends, but you still don't remember him – your own boyfriend.

✹ it's wrong, and he knows it is, but he's jealous.

✹ he has to watch you carry on like usual, without him. you haven't set foot in the room you used to share together since before you were comatose. he's done his best to disguise how much it hurts, but it still annoys him how no one else seems to notice how wrong it all is. the others don't need you like he does, they don't lay awake at night going over every moment, treasuring the time you called him yours, yearning with every fibre of his being to go back.

✹ it's been a month and a half since you woke up, six weeks of being so close yet so unbearably far from you. he prays to any god that will listen to bring you back to him, allow him to hold you in his arms once more, but nothing ever changes.

✹ the thread he's been hanging on by ever since you went down on that mission gone wrong is one more bad day away from snapping.

✹ he's approached by gaz one morning, while waiting for the others to begin training, who takes it upon himself to ask johnny about how you're recovering. when gaz teases him about how he was the first person you remembered, and johnny thinks he might just strangle him.

✹ "careful, soap, i might steal 'em away," gaz laughs, patting his shoulder with a camaraderie soap scoffs at.

✹ "shut the fuck up." he snarls, his face bunched in a strikingly out of character scowl. his hands twitch at his sides, nails digging painfully into his palms.

✹ gaz blinks, his eyebrows shooting up, clearly taken aback by the hostility from his friend. "alright, i was only jokin', mate."

✹ "aye, well, i'm nae laughin'."

✹ the tension is stifling. he can tell gaz wants to say something more, but he holds his tongue – too worried about upsetting soap any further.

✹ they stand in silence with each other like that for a while, gaz watching him from the corner of his eye while he keeps his gaze firmly on the grass below him.

✹ thankfully, after not too long the uneasy atmosphere is interrupted by a shout from the direction of the building, "johnny!"

✹ his head snaps to attention to see you, grinning uncontrollably and sprinting towards him at full speed.

✹ "wha–" he's caught off guard by how you leap into his arms, hooking your arms around his neck as he stumbles backwards in surprise.

✹ before he has time to question your actions, you're smashing your lips against his in a searing kiss that has johnny's head spinning. he wastes no time in reciprocating, securing one arm around your waist and bringing the other to the back of your head, using it you press you impossibly closer to him as he groans into your mouth.

✹ you reluctantly pull away, just enough to take a shaky breath, but johnny's had stays put on the back of your head. "i'm sorry i forgot, i'm sorry…" you mumble against his lips, dragging your fingers through the unkempt hair of his mohawk.

✹ he drops his head into the juncture of you neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply the scent of you that he's gone so long without. he laughs into you, slightly delirious and just so overjoyed to have you in his arms again that feels his eyes sting with tears.

✹ "i've missed you, bonnie," he chuckles wetly, pressing his lips back to yours in another desperate kiss, "i've missed you so much,"

✹ "i'll never forget you again."

ghost

✹ he avoids you like the plague.

✹ or he tries to, at least. but truth be told, after spending so much time learning to be vulnerable around you and allowing you into his guarded heart, it's difficult to go back to being a stranger to you.

✹ that, and he doesn't actually want to.

✹ but he needs to. being around you, the love of his life, knowing that you don't remember him, it's like a knife stuck between his ribs. any time he's in the same room as you he finds himself fighting the urge to grab your hand, or press his forehead against you.

✹ he knows you don't want him anymore, the last thing you deserve is a giant of a man – who you're clearly afraid of, even if you won't say it – hanging around you like a shadow.

✹ you're still kind to him, because of course you are, checking in on him and trying to talk to him any opportunity you get. it's nice, sometimes he can even pretend everything is normal when he shares a laugh with you, but then he sees the hesitance in your eyes and he's brought back to the cold reality of the situation.

✹ the weeks drag like this, every fleeting look from you another bleeding wound on his heart.

✹ he keeps it together surprisingly well, all things considered, but the breaking point comes when you find him having a smoke one night, on a bench just outside the barracks.

✹ "simon?" your voice cuts through the silence, his eyes snapping to you as you sit down next to him. he takes another long drag from his cigarette as he watches you, uncertainty in your voice as you continue, "can you tell me about… me? and us?"

✹ no matter how much he thinks he should, he can't look away from your pleading gaze.

✹ "we… you're everything to me," simon mutters, dropping his cigarette and putting it out with the heel of his boot, "i've never felt the way i do with you before, you've helped me more than you could ever know…"

✹ his vision blurs with unshed tears. the sadness on your face starts and ache in his heart, the desire to take you into his arms and just hold you making his skin bristle.

✹ "you don't have to feel the same way, but…" he pulls the balaclava from his head, setting it on the bench in the space between you, bearing his face to you like he always does, "even if you never get your memory back, i'll always love you."

✹ the way you look at him makes it so incredibly difficult not to cry. your eyes are glassy and far away, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth with an expression that screams guilt – but it's not your fault, and he'd never blame you.

✹ you open your mouth to say something, but the words never materialise. the night stays silent, and simon expects it, but it still makes his bones ache with a heaviness that he knows he can't shake.

✹ he stands, picking up his balaclava, and walks quietly past you to the barracks door. there's no fleeting look, not this time. he disappears to his room without another word.

✹ he's not sure how much later it is when he hears a knock on his door. minutes, hours, it didn't matter. it all blends together now.

✹ when he doesn't bother to answer, whoever it is lets themselves in, shutting the door gently behind themselves. he sits up with the intention of chewing them out, but when he opens his eyes they land on your form, curled in on yourself and shuffling quickly over to him.

✹ you're here, in his room, with a face that looks like you've been crying for hours, puffy and tear-stained with bloodshot eyes.

✹ he almost thinks he's dreaming, but the warmth as you wrap your arms around him and bring his face to your chest is too real, too familiar. he brings his arms up  around your waist, releasing a shaky sigh into your skin as he squeezes you tighter against him.

✹ a few hot tears meet the top of his head as you whisper to him the words he's been waiting, longing to hear, rocking gently from side to side.

✹ "i remember, si."

✹ it feels like he can finally rest, like the state of being he's been living in for the last few months melts away with your touch and he feels safe again.

✹ with his grip around your waist, he hoists you onto his bed to lay back down with him, holding you tightly against his chest, your heart right beside his own racing one.

✹ you cradle his face again, pressing your lips to his face over and over, touching every inch of him with your love.

✹ "i'm sorry…" you whisper like a mantra, punctuating every kiss with an apology that makes his throat constrict with the raw emotion he feels. "i'm sorry,"

✹ "don't be…" he mirrors how you hold his face, tangling his legs with yours as he captures your mouth and pours every ounce of passion he has into the way he kisses you. "don't be, love."

[gay-dorito-dust]

May I request BootHill and Argenti with a crush who’s reckless and accidentally confessed due to a particularly bad injury?

Crush doesn’t care for getting injured at all and always brushes off their concerns when they get injured but one day they just get rlly badly hurt and when they try to do the usual

“I’m okay”

It just kinda snaps in the boys?

(Sorry if this is too much)

Boothill

‘You fudging idiot!’ Boothill screamed when he saw the massive gash on your side. ‘You’ve gone and gotten yourself hurt again!’

‘I’m okay.’ You said as casually as you could while trying not to wince as Boothill began to put pressure on your wound to prevent it from bleeding out further. The gash fucking killed but you weren’t about to let him know how much it hurt, you refused to as you’ve dealt with far worse.

You haven’t, actually, that was a fucking lie to begin with.

‘I’m okay’ they say.’ Boothill scoffs, ‘yeah right, you’ve only gone and done it now! For fork’s sake would it kill you to actually act like you want to fudging live for once?!’

He knew you were a reckless spirit for the moment you first met, you were someone who didn’t care how many scars would litter your skin, only caring about finishing the mission no matter how debilitating the pain was. At first he didn’t care to know your name nor your reasoning as to why you act the way you did, but when he started to feel something for you, that’s when he began to worry himself sick over you.

Boothill genuinely wondered whether or not you cared that you lived after each and every suicide mission, you couldn’t be mended or rebuilt like he could, you weren’t invincible as you’d like to this you were and Boothill could only hope that today served as a reminder of that.

Boothill didn’t want to lose you, he couldn’t bare it as he’s already lost his friends, family and his darling Arabella who’s smile so wide you could see the her gap tooth on full display. Arabella was just learning to walk when she was taken from him along with everyone else who meant everything to him; Revenge was his only motive and loosing you would only make him surrender to it a hell of lot faster.

‘If all you’re going to do is shout about how stupid I am then you can fuck off and leave me here to die since I’m such a idiot in your eyes, mr spaghetti western.’ You barked, hating Boothill’s unnecessary comments and hating the worried look within his eyes even more, it made you feel useless and pathetic.

Boothill looked at you as though you’ve grown a second head, lost on how that was the conclusion you came to, you must be delirious from the blood loss. ‘Fork me do I have to spell it out for you- I like you fudging dummy!’ He exclaimed. ‘I’m mad not because I hate you but because you’re hurt and I’m scared of loosing you darling!’ He chuckled humourlessly as he presses his forehead against yours, the one time where he was glad that his face was the last places where he could feel your warmth seep into him. ‘Your recklessness has me on the edge of insanity more than once sweetheart. I mean do you know just how much it hurt to see you like this? I might as well have gone on a tirade and hunt down every son of a nice lady who played a part in your scars.’

You remained in stunned silence.

This confession wasn’t something you were expecting from someone like Boothill, it made you wonder whether you were imaging this for yourself, and the reality was that he wasn’t actually here with you and you were indeed dying alone with no one to provide you company other then dead corpses waiting for you to join them. So in hopes of proving yourself wrong, you lifted a hand to his cheek, watched as he melted against it, his warmth seeping into your skin.

He was here.

Boothill was here and this was real, all this was real.

‘I like you too your silly cowboy.’ You whispered before pressing a tender kiss to his plush lips. A battlefield wasn’t a great place for a confession nor for love to blossom but if that was the case then why did it feel so right for the both of you in that moment.

Later you were taken to medical and Boothill, your official partner, went back to talking your ear off about how reckless you were, but would press kisses to your forehead and hands to let you know that he’ll take care of you from now on.

Argenti hated it whenever you came back from missions injured and your carelessness towards the scrapes and bruises that littered your body didn’t exactly help either.

‘I’m fine.’ You said after spraining an ankle.

‘I’ll live.’ You waved him off dismissively after hurting your side during a mission.

It seemed as though you never held yourself in the same regard as he did, and Argenti couldn’t help but feel his heart break the more and more he witness you disregard other people’s concern, acting though you had a paper cut rather then a wound that wound take you out of action for a good couple of weeks.

So when he found you with your back pressed up against a wall and a deep gash on your leg that made it hard for you to stand never less walk.

‘My beloved rose!’ He cried as he rushed to your side, setting aside his weapon as he inspected the wound.

‘I’m okay, it’s only a small gash.’ You told him but Argenti wasn’t about to hear it, not this time. He wasn’t going to allow you the chance to dismiss him when you were severely injured. So when he levelled you with a stare, you began to wish you could take back your words as seeing such a stern expression on a man as beautiful as Argenti was actually downright terrifying. ‘This is vastly different than a small gash, this is a serious injury that could alter your life’s trajectory for good if we treat it with such disregard as you have done with previous injuries.’ He told you with a seriousness that had you listen to him.

‘And why do you care?’ You asked.

‘I’ve always cared.’ Argenti replied straightforward, ‘every injury I’ve cared. I worried for your health, your well-being, both physical and mental, but you don’t seem to do the same and that pains me because you are so-‘

‘-reckless?’ You cut in, having heard the same thing from pretty much everyone and believing Argenti would be no different from them.

‘-beautiful.’ Argenti said and your breath caught in your throat. ‘You are so beautiful to me, my rose. I have found myself grown quite fond of you in a short amount of time that any pain caused to you might as well be my own.’ He finished as he saw the conflicting emotions within your eyes and prays that you could find the truth within his words.

‘Why?’ You asked. ‘What would a knight of beauty want with a reckless idiot like me?’

Argenti smiled softly. ‘You may be reckless but you are far from an idiot my dear, I like you a lot and I merely say this in fear of a future where I may never get the chance to do so for multiple reasons. Whether or not you accept is solely up to you.’ Argenti felt as though he had finally gotten a heavy weight off of his chest, but felt a pinch of anxiety when you didn’t respond after a period of time, and began to wonder whether this was a smart move on his behalf.

‘I always dreamed of having a knight in shining armour.’ You admitted, raising a hand to cup the back of his head. ‘But I didn’t think that dream would come true until you came along and I knew in that moment I would give you my heart and so much more.’ Argenti breathes a sigh of relief as he rests his forehead against your own, nuzzling your noses together briefly. ‘I’d be more than honoured of being your knight, if you’ll let me.’

You chuckled as you looked at him fondly. ‘I’d be more than happy to my cherry haired beauty.’ You replied as Argenti was quick to scoop you in his arms and carried you to the medics, who told you that you’d be out of action for quite a while and Argenti was more then happy to be your caregiver during that time, you couldn’t be more happier at the opportunity of being with your knight in shining armour.

[bettysupremacy]

Omg imagine james doing something stupid (not much imagination needed there) and r is telling him of (lovingly) and he’s just like “yes ma’am🫡” and the others are like side eyeing him I just NEED james to call me ma’am in an argument

i hope you are having a great december so far my love

(not much imagination needed there) LOL

i could kiss you this idea is so cute thank you lovely

“Oh, my boy.” You croon to the mess tumbling into your lap. Softly, you brush some hair from his fluttering eyes. “What‘ve the evil twins done to you.”

“Evil twins!” Sirius gasps.

Remus laughs. “That’s a new one.”

You don’t look up from the sickly boy careening for your touch. “What did they feed you?”

He moans into you, muttering something you can’t pick up. He’s gone all right, ten shades of flushed and warm to the touch. It’s already a warm night, but this is no warmth that came naturally.

“We didn’t do anything.” Remus denies impishly.

“Puking pastilles again?” You eye them. “Do you know how long we sat by the toilet?”

“That was not our fault.”

“And neither were the nosebleed nougats?” You sigh. “Seriously thought his brain was coming out his nose.”

Sirius nods in agreement nose scrunching. “Not his finest moment.”

“Because of you.”

“Don’t start with me, woman.” His finger points between your eyes.

James is malleable under you, nose pressing into your thigh coyly. You see the corner of a smile as you fuss, guilty pleasure at your roaming touch. The room is hot, warm bodies passing and going as they please through the small flat. You fear he may run a fever, though that’s uncommon. James immune system is a rock, solid at anything thrown to it.

You press your hand to his forehead. “Has he had to much?”

The boys eye each other suspiciously. “Too much?”

You scoff. “To drink?”

“Depends.” Sirius shrugs

“On what!”

Their dubious behavior alarms you. These boys are up to something, or rather, were up to something, and now they’re avoiding dealing with the consequence of you.

“The substance.”

“Substance?” You sit up straight, shuffling the boy under you. He grumbles in protest.

“Potion.” Remus gives.

You frown apprehensively. “You didn’t.”

“We didn’t,” Sirius starts.

“he did.” Remus finishes.

Felix Felicis. They’d been talking about it a couple weeks ago, getting their hands on some. You protested, begged them, to forget it. It’s too dangerous, your voice of reason lowered their spirits, James you’ll be sleeping on the couch if you risk yourself like that.

“No,” You whine, fretting over the intoxicated fool. “how much?”

“Ask loverboy.”

“The whole,” James takes a deep breath mid sentence. “bottle.”

“Oh my god,” your eyes wide at the older boys standing. “he’ll be puking all night.”

“Maybe not..”

Your face drops into your hands exhausted. “Puking Pastilles all over again.”

“M’sorry.” James moans under you. “M’so sorry, lovely.”

“That was so stupid.” You scold lightly, hand coming down to flatten over his collar bones. “So, so, so, stupid!”

You're ruffled, shaken at the thought of him downing such an expensive, easily tainted, potion.

“Do you listen to everything they tell you to do?”

“No,” he starts slowly.

“Seems like it.” You bristle, pulling him up to sit. You look into his eyes seriously and he shuffles, nervous under your gaze. “Get a mind of your own.”

His fingers twitch at the hem of the dress you’d picked out tonight, squeezing it in his grip, grounding himself in reality. “Yes ma’am.”

Sirius scoffs behind you, shaking his head at Remus who looks equally perturbed at James’ extra affection. Under them, you wrap your arms around his neck surely. Besides the soft sent of sickly sweet potion, he smells of pine and cologne. You let yourself recognize his body is continuing to function as it should. Untouched, mostly, by the yellow inebriant.

“I can’t stand you, do you feel well?”

“I’m feeling better.”

You stick your face in his shoulder. “Be serious.”

“No, I don’t feel well.”

You sigh into him, pressing a kiss into his freckled skin. He won’t sleep on the couch tonight, though you aught to teach him a lesson.

“We’re going home.”

“What?” James frowns. “We only just got here.”

“D’you have another pool to jump in?”

He cringes at the memory of his fireball spree. “Kay, coming.”

You collect your coat and purse as you stand, leaving James to fend for himself behind you. “Felix Felicis isn’t a joke, one wrong tincture of thyme and you’re in St Mungo’s- James, were are your shoes?”

[bitchesgetriches]

A Message from Piggy & Kitty

Well, everyone… today is a dark day.

Soon, I know we’ll find ways to rally together and do what good people have always done in the face of tragedy. But today, it feels dishonest to pretend we’re not feeling despair.

Despair is the worst, ugliest feeling. It’s so painful, and so resistant to normal forms of comfort. Can’t say “I’m so sorry” because we’re not sorry—we’re furious, and so are you. Can’t say “it’ll be alright” because it won’t be—not for everyone. It feels like the earth opened beneath our feet, and we’ve fallen into a deep, dark pit together. More than anything, we wish we could make a ladder or a rope or even just a light appear. But we don’t have those things. All we have are words, and the only words that feel honest or helpful right now are “I love you, and I’m here beside you in this horrible place.”

So in that spirit…

Friends, we love you. We're here with you. And we're scared too.

We will bend all of our research and creativity toward generating ideas to help our readers prepare themselves for what's to come, and fight for a better future. But it’ll take a bit for those topics to develop.

I confess that today’s events stopped my writing in its tracks. It feels so fucking silly to write our little money tips while we are all down here, in the pit. But we will push through that feeling, because our mission hasn’t changed. In this dirty world, money is power. When people are desperate, they’re easy to exploit. Acquiring wealth and stability, without exploiting others, can make you righteously, radically powerful. And we’ll need as much power as we can muster to climb back out into the light of day.

If you need a space to vent your feelings, this comment section and our DMs are wide open. Check in with the people you love, and be kind to yourselves as you process this latest development in our shared destiny.

<3 Kitty & Piggy

[rebelscums]

Ardent (Qimir x Ex Jedi reader)

The beginning Part One of Ardent

Ratings: Angst | Fluff | Strangers to Friends | Friends to Lovers | Abuse | Violence | Questioning the Jedi order | Slowburn

Summary: You have been by his side since the beginning… This is your story.

The best down on your form in the training arena located outside. Hundreds of flowers decorated around the outside arena making it serene despite the structure and rigorous exercises you had to go through, but you believed that each test made you stronger and you would become a noble Jedi like your master.

“Fix your form padawan.” Your master pointed at the wrong position of your right foot.

“Apologies master.” You swiftly fixed your form hoping that you appeased her.

It seemed to work as Master Elysande gave you an appreciative nod, “Well done. Now I want you to concentrate on the way the branch moves on the tree in front of you. Mimic this movement until your energy matches…”

You listened intently to your master, her black hair braided to fall behind her pointed ears. As you nodded your head you caught movement toward the right of your vision and it was at that moment Qimir walked by, following ardently behind his master, Master Balaam.

His hair fell delicately around his face despite the other padawan’s cutting theirs short to make it easier for training. His padawan braid reach just past his shoulder however, his beads reminding you of the ocean. He kept his gaze on the dark grey robe his master wore, walking swiftly behind him. The small action allowed you to admire him silently from afar. To say that you had a small crush on the boy was an understatement, but you did notice one important detail about him.

Qimir was always… Quiet.

You noticed that he tended to keep to himself. He never made a face or spoke against his master. You however were quiet the opposite. You were loud and spirited. You had a million questions, ones that only a few that your master would indulge in. Master Elysande choose you because of your active imagination and bright look about the galaxy. She would say it gave you a footing over the other padawan’s when it came to the force because of how strong your connection was to life around you.

You were quite friendly, but when it came to Qimir… Well you felt as if your words were stuck in your throat and you couldn’t push yourself to speak. He didn’t speak to you either and it would always end with you watching him wordlessly.

Other padawan’s such as your friend Gerel speculated that he was mute. You didn’t think she could possibly be right. Ifa just thought that Qimir was strange agreeing with the others. You however were curious about the tall silent boy. You wanted to learn more about him, speak with him and perhaps be friends. You thought that you both would make the perfect pair however, with your daydream you didn’t expect his eyes to lock onto yours. Suddenly your cheeks began to burn and you knew it wasn’t just from the heat.

“Padawan.” Master Elysande called out to you again for the third time, “Focus.”

You cleared your throat hoping that your cheeks would cool down as you turned your attention back to your master.

“Sorry master.” You muttered quickly though secretly you were counting down the minutes until you saw him again.

It seemed that the force was on your side

“We will begin this new year with something that is a little different from our traditional training. Each of you will be partnering up with one another to improve your connection to the force as well as your combat skills. This partnership will carry on as you become Jedi’s.” Master Aarati explained, “It is up to you to choose your partner wisely so that you may become knowledgeable in the force.”

You were excited for the revelation as you twiddled your fingers under your robes. This was the perfect moment to talk to Qimir without being too pushy. You thought as you looked around.

“Do you want to—“ Ifa began, but you couldn’t let Ifa finish what they were going to say.

“I’m really sorry but I already have a partner in mind.” You spoke quickly, “Maybe next time!” You called back to your friend as you dove into the crowd. You had a mission and you had your nerves at least for now.

You couldn’t mess this up. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you did.

Your master also thought you were a bit dramatic in your training as well.

You weaved around padawan’s trying to pick their own partners as you spotted a mop of dark raven hair. Please don’t have a partner… Please don’t have a partner… You thought as you finally broke past the hive of padawan’s.

There he stood, looking a bit out of place beside his master. He had his hands clasped behind his back and his gaze looked indifferent as you approached him.

“Master Balaam.” You greeted his master first with a bow before turning your attention to Qimir, “Qimir…” You took a breath, “Would you like to be my partner for this trial?”

You waited with a bated breath as his eyes roamed your figure. You knew you didn’t have anything special or unique about you like some of the other padawan’s, but you were content in being normal. He however… Was not.

“No.”

That was the first word he ever said to you… No.

The rejection made you feel embarrassed and singled out as you stood there awkwardly.

“No?” You wanted to be sure, “Are you sure you don’t—“

“I am always certain in what I say.” He replied.

“Oh…” Your voice trailed off.

His master didn’t seem to make the situation any lighter as he stared silently through your soul. Your master however could sense the growing unease inside of you and gracefully took her place by your side once more.

“Is there a problem?” She directed her question to Master Balaam.

“She is too frail to train with my padawan. Qimir needs someone who can match his strength with the force.” Master Balaam answered indifferently as if this conversation was wasting his time.

“I see.” Elysande nodded and you had to refrain from laughing at the way she was trying intently not to roll her eyes, “But before you judge the strength of my padawan by her looks alone. How about we allow our padawan’s to duel. A test of sorts should do the trick in proving you wrong.”

At that you couldn’t help but snort. The reaction received a gentle nudge from your master to quiet you down.

“She won’t last.” Master Balaam said.

“We’ll see about that.” Your master motioned for you to follow her, “Follow us.” She spoke and you were quick to grace her side.

“That is the boy you were distracted by is it not?” Elysande asked softly. She held no disgust or disappointment in her tone, only a light curiosity that allowed you to open up to her more freely.

You nodded speaking quietly, “He is… Different from the others.”

“Different is not always a good thing. Difference can lead you astray from the path.” Your master passed on wisdom.

“I understand master.” You nodded your head.

You found yourself underneath the only plum tree in your temple. You were facing against Qimir who seemed tense under the watchful gaze of his master.

“This should be quick.” Master Balaam commented and crossed his arms.

Those sharp words had you grinding your teeth as a determined expression took over your usual soft features. You would not be bested by those who think less of you. You readied yourself, holding your lightsaber in first position.

Qimir ignited his lightsaber, holding it in a familiar stance. He didn’t seem tense anymore as if he was in his element. You could see that he liked the feel of power from the way his fingers opened and closed around his blue lightsaber.

Your green one flickered against your eyes and you counted down silently at the same time as your master.

“Begin.” Master Elysande said.

You charged Qimir with speed, ready to take him down with the new move you learned, but he sensed your plan and diverted it with a single step. You stumbled towards the tree and you would have face planted against it too if it weren’t for Qimir pulling you back by your right arm.

“Account for your opponents steps. Focus on their movements and not just your own.” He said softly.

You looked up at him before nodded your head and taking a step back, “Okay.”

You returned to your starting spot with a new frame of mind. It was something your master picked up immediately as she watched you take your time to attack Qimir instead of just rushing in.

“They complement one another.” Master Elysande commented as you told Qimir to be more aggressive when using the force, “This new training technique may be affective for the future of Jedi.”

“I don’t think it is a good thing.” Said Master Balaam motioned to you and Qimir with his head, “This trial for a new training technique could form attachments amongst the padawan.”

Master Elysande remained quiet in thought wondering if what Master Balaam was explaining could come true.

You continued to spar alongside Qimir. However, you were no match for his quick and precise movements. It was clear that he was being trained relentlessly by his master to become the perfect Jedi. In the end as he pinned you to the ground. Qimir stood over you with his lightsaber pointed at your neck.

“Well done.” Your master nodded her head in approval and you smiled despite losing.

Master Balaam however said nothing as Qimir looked at him. You could see the way his shoulders slumped only slightly and you could only imagine how dejected he must feel. That is why you brought his attention back to you and tried to cheer him up.

“Good fight.” You took a deep breath. It was quite a work out and exhaustion overtook you.

He turned off his lightsaber and clipped it back onto his belt, “It was.” He said as he stuck his hand out towards you.

You took it gratefully and allowed him to pull you up, “So does this mean that you will have me as your partner?”

“Y—” Qimir didn’t get a chance to give his answer before Master Balaam tugged him back by his robe.

“No.” Master Balaam stated as he stepped in front of him, “You’ve only proven to me how reckless you are young padawan.”

“She has only proven to be a good match for Qimir.” Master Elysande intervened, “They can hone their skills by working together.” She clasped her hands over her stomach, “I believe that their differences can bring the best out of each other.”

“Or the worst.” Master Balaam waved his hand dismissively, “Come padawan. Let us go.”

Qimir glanced at you with a sad look in his eyes before following his master’s order. You looked to your master with wide and expressive eyes that showed how upset you were at not being paired with Qimir.

“Wait.” Master Elysande called out to Balaam, “Let’s us see what the council thinks.”

You never knew how much you appreciated your master until that very moment.

You stood behind your master as she explained to the council the benefits of pairing both you and Qimir together.

“We decided on this trial for a reason. I believe these two will be a successful case by the time they become Jedi knights.” Master Elysande explained.

“It is a foolish dream driven by a desire to put your padawan ahead. She is not as skilled as Qimir and never will be. I do not see any reason why they should continue to train together.” Master Balaam countered.

You peaked over at Qimir as the council murmured about what they should do about this predicament. Qimir didn’t show any emotion on his face. He looked calm as his hands were clasped behind his back. He didn’t show the childlike personality that the two of you should have at your age.

He won’t look over at me either. He must know that I am staring at him. You thought, a small disappointed frown on your face as you focused your attention back on your master. You wanted to joke with him, perhaps make him laugh at the audacity that his master had.

“We incline to agree with Master Elysande.” Master Charvik finally announced.

Master Faheem whose eyes shine of the brightest ocean and skin the color of turquoise to accent her gills also chimed in, “I have had a vision through the force as well. I believe that the force has called the two together for a reason… One I do not understand, but a reason that will create a strong bond within the force.”

“I agree with your wisdom Master Faheem.” Master Charvin said, the cloth wrapped around his hands slightly unraveled as he motioned for the meeting to come to an end.

Relief filled your lungs as you breathed out. You were nervous about what Master Faheem saw in her vision, but excited to continue your training with Qimir. You only hoped that he felt the same way… You just wanted to become as strong as he was. To understand his way of the force.

“Then it is settled.” Master Balaam’s jaw was clenched, but he didn’t show any other signs of anger, “Qimir will continue his training alongside Master Elysande’s padawan. Let us hope that your vision is not wrong Master Faheem.” A thin frown graced his lips as a sour tone overtook his tone.

The council paid no mind to Master Balaam’s dismay over the matter and did what they did best, hide their feelings.

“Thank you for your thoughts and decision on this subject.” Master Elysande nodded her head towards the Jedi council before turning to leave the room. You fell into step with her as the two of you left, you with a pep in your step as you walked.

As you and your master internally commended your victory, you made a silent vow to bake master Elysande the best batch of muffins she had ever tasted in thanks to her. In your promise you turned your head to find Master Balaam and Qimir walk past the both of you.

You didn’t expect anything from them so it came as a surprise when you felt a tiny scroll of paper being slipped into your small hand. Qimir didn’t speak of it as he continued to follow his master who was swiftly trying to get past you.

Your heart raced as you waited until you were in the safety of your room to unroll the piece of paper. It was then that you knew even as young as you were that he was going to be apart of your life forever. Your very first crush created just from a few words scrawled on a piece of paper.

Meet me by the plum tree tonight. I really

Thank you. — Q

[chelseacult]

I Should Hate You

Katie McCabe x Chelsea!Reader

Summary: Katie is tasked with marking you.

Word Count: 1.1k words

You knew that playing Arsenal at the Emirates would be a struggle. The roaring celebratory crowds anytime an Arsenal player started a run. The equally enthusiastic boos every time you and your teammates so much as touched the ball. Nothing out of the ordinary. What you weren’t expecting, though, was your current position. 

“Sorry, darlin’,” says Arsenal’s Irish superstar as she untangles her body from yours. She stands and reaches both of her hands out for you, a small smile on her face. You might’ve appreciated the gesture if she hadn’t been on the offensive end of all the fouls you’ve encountered during the last 60 minutes. But she has been, so you don’t. Instead, you brush her off and pull yourself up before returning to your original position. 

“That’s, like, the 10th time she’s fouled me. I swear she has a personal vendetta against me or something,” you gesture around aimlessly as you take your place next to your best friend. 

“What has she done now?” Lauren James asks with a quiet laugh as she kneels down to retie her boots. 

“Aside from embarrassing me repeatedly for the past hour, she just tripped me. On purpose, probably.” You reach a hand down and help LJ up once she finishes tying her laces.

LJ lets out a laugh at your reply. “Right, well, that’s called ‘marking.’ Perhaps you’ve heard of it?” LJ squeezes your shoulder with a smirk before the referee blows her whistle, signaling for play to start back up. You share a laugh before attempting to clear your mind and get back into the game. Your attempt starts fruitfully, and you forget all thoughts of your complications with the Irish woman. 

You begin running up the wing as your teammates initiate an attack. “Heads up!” Erin yells as she sends the ball soaring toward you from the 18-yard box. Before you can even think about your next move, a sharp pain shoots through your ankle and shoulder, and you find yourself on the ground once again. Your teammates shout, and the crowd erupts in deafening boos as the referee shows your assailant a yellow and then points to the spot. 

“Oh, bullshit! I hardly touched her!” exclaims a voice you’ve grown all too accustomed to hearing today. 

“Want to explain why I’m on the ground then?” Nathalie helps you up as you glare at Katie. “I’m okay,” you assure Nathalie quickly, brushing off her questioning of your fitness and turning back toward the Ireland captain. 

“I don’t know, but I think VAR’s about to find out,” Katie states with a smirk (that you wish you could smack off her face) as she raises her eyebrows and gestures behind you before crossing her arms. You turn to see the referee walking to the penalty check screen. An intense suspense fills the stadium as everyone awaits the referee’s final decision. 

“Has to go our way. She completely clipped you. Studs up and everything,” speaks your captain, Millie Bright. She joins the swarm of fellow Chelsea players that has now formed around you, the Arsenal players having disbursed. 

After a thorough review of the penalty decision, the referee swiftly returns to the pitch. With a firm expression, she announces her reversal of the call, awarding the decision in favor of Arsenal. 

“Come on! That is shit!” Guro shouts as the referee cancels the previously awarded penalty. The thunderous cheers of the Arsenal fans drown out her shouts. The dramatics of the Norwegian winger do nothing to ease your spirits like they usually would. The game ends shortly after, ending in a 3-1 Arsenal win. 

You deflate, refraining from diplomatically shaking hands with the Arsenal players after the game. You’re standing off to the side watching a bantering Sam Kerr and Caitlin Foord when you sense a presence walking up behind you, followed by the feeling of two hands on your waist. “Think ya better fire your diving instructor,” the voice whispers in your ear before the accompanying hands pull you toward their chest. 

You pull away from the person completely and turn around to face the Irish woman who has recently been the absolute vain of your existence. “I know that you know that call was fucked,” you say sternly.

Katie mock gasps, raises her eyebrows, and drops her jaw. “You want us to what?” she jokes and feigns disbelief.

“Stop,” you reply with a roll of your eyes. She steps closer to you at this reply.

She laughs, “Ah, that’s not a word I hear too often. The eye roll is a different story.” You’re unsure if the innuendos were intentional. The way she’s not even trying to hide biting her lip answers this question for you, though. She smirks again at your lack of response, and you only kind of want to smack it off her face this time. You feel your face heat up as she keeps her eyes trained on yours. You nervously look away and busy yourself watching Niamh’s post-match interview, hoping that Katie will just walk away.

You keep your eyes on Niamh as you feel Katie step close to you again, despite something urging you to turn your head toward the other girl. Katie keeps her hands to herself as she leans close to whisper in your ear this time; her lips brush against your ear as she murmurs, “The more you try to ignore me, the more I want to be right here.” Your breath catches as her words linger in your ear. 

Katie pulls away after a tension-filled minute, her expression combining smug delight and amusement. She clearly enjoys the reaction she just pulled out of you. She steals a quick glance at your lips before looking back up at your eyes and holding out one of her hands. Your mind is still whirling from the earlier feeling of having her body so close to yours. You just stare at her outstretched hand. 

“See something you like?” she asks as she wiggles her fingers and turns her hand around and back. Your eyes jump back up to hers. “Yeah. Your yellow card earlier,” you choke out.

“Katie!” someone yells from behind you before Katie can reply. Probably one of her teammates. You can’t be bothered to check. Katie nods at the person before turning back to you. Her hand still outstretched, she reaches for one of yours and shakes it with no help from you.

“Until next time, love, yeah?” With an ever-present smirk, she finally removes her hand from yours and starts to walk away. “Unless ya don’t feel like waiting that long. Up to you,” she winks and joins her teammate (whose identity you’re still unsure of).

You’re pretty sure she just put the ball in your court.

a/n: first fic 👀 hopefully it's not terrible. I have mixed feelings about my first post being for an arsenal player but!!! advice is appreciated. thank you alright bye

[readsaboutreid]

Fantasies | S.R.

this is smutty smutty smut smut so it's 18+, minors please dni

honestly this is just like a fantasy of mine inspired by how wildly hot this entire exchange is what can i say i'm a scifi girlie (gender neutral) and i figured it might make a good fic so here goes nothing

this is part 1 of 2

contains: unprotected sex (creampie), oral (f receiving), munch!spencer, softdom!spencer

“—but the reason the entire ritual was considered taboo wasn’t because Vulcans were supposed to be portrayed as prudish virgins, that’s all I’m saying,” (Y/N) ranted at JJ and Prentiss, gaining amused but shocked and confused stares from the two of them. When they had found out about her relationship with Spencer they might have been less than shocked but they had never seen her ramble like this in such a Reid-esque fashion.

Penelope Garcia, being ever the one to playfully tease her best friend decided to push the young agent’s buttons a little bit by playfully arguing back, “but then why all the secrecy around the ritual when it comes to other species knowing about it?” Which made (Y/N) roll her eyes in response and groan, and earning her glances from JJ and Prentiss that screamed why would you keep this going for longer?!

"Fucking Christ, Penny, you should know this, ugh—the ritual of Pon Farr is considered taboo because of the depth of emotions experienced by the Vulcans as they enter it, not because it has to do with sexual reproduction; Vulcans have sex outside of Pon Farr and we know this for a fact not only because Trip is literally told outright that Vulcans have sex by a Vulcan when he asked, but also because if Vulcans only ever copulated during Pon Farr, then Vulcan generations would always be seven years apart in age," her exasperation was nearly palpable as she ranted speedily, gaining good spirited laughter from Garcia while she her friend rage over something that they all knew in the end was fairly insignificant.

Spencer watched this entire exchange from his desk across the bullpen with a fond smile and a warm, floaty feeling blooming across his chest. That was when Garcia noticed him staring from his desk and moved to literally drag him into the discussion, deciding that everyone must join in the procrastination socialization. "What the—hey!" Spencer barely managed to steady himself and keep from falling out of the chair.

"I wanna know what our resident boy wonder has to contribute to the discussion," Penelope laughed in a singsong-y voice as she got him to the table they were all congregating at together and rolled him right up next to the chair on which (Y/N) was perched.

She looked over at him and shot him a small wave and a quiet, "hi, love." And he melted. Instantly.

Her smile was so sweet that Spencer could do nothing for a moment but respond with his own toothy, lovestruck grin. He was snapped back to reality by Garcia literally snapping in front of him and chiding (Y/N) as she said, “what have you done to this boy? Are you a freakin’ witch or something?” Spencer and (Y/N) both laughed and Garcia then continued, "so, Reid, do you agree with (Y/N)’s impassioned rant?"

"Oh! Right," Spencer shook his head, "no, she's 100% correct. The ritual of Pon Farr does not solely dictate when Vulcans have sexual relations. It is simply a period of heightened emotions and bonding for them." He looked at (Y/N) with another soft smile, proud that she had such a vast knowledge of Star Trek lore.

"See, Penny? Even the genius agrees with me," (Y/N) teased playfully, earning a chuckle from the team and a light blush from Spencer.

Garcia clapped her hands together excitedly, “Well then let's—”

“—I’m sorry to interrupt, but we have a case,” Garcia’s bubbly lilt was cut off by the stern tone of Agent Hotchner as he summoned them to the briefing room. Everyone broke apart at that, following their Unit Chief to the round table. As they all took their seats Spencer made sure to sit by (Y/N) so he could secretly slip her hand into his under the table to cling to some semblance of goodness as they were filled in on the next of the worst of humanity they had to face.

Spencer and (Y/N) laid together in his bed as they always did after particularly rough cases. He ran his finger gently up and down her barely clothed back when she uttered a soft, “hey I have this, like, sort of random question.”

“Oh? What would that be?” Spencer whispered into her hair, half asleep.

“Do you have any, like, fantasies you’d wanna—?” Spencer was confused by her question and the look on his face as she looked up at him told her as much, so she clarified, “like, sexually?"

Well, now he was up. In multiple ways. He reached over and turned on his lamp and stammered out, "uh—w-what—where did that come from?" Spencer's voice rose multiple octaves while his heart skipped a beat.

"Well I just—," she started before cutting herself off and making a face that said she was thinking about how exactly she wanted to explain her thought process. "There's something I've been thinking about for a couple weeks." Her cheeks tinged pink in the soft light of his desk lamp as she shyly looked up at him through her lashes in a way that made his pajama pants start to feel uncomfortably tight.

"Oh? What would that be?" Spencer found himself echoing his first question, unable to focus on anything that wasn't (Y/N) (or her nipples, which were peeking through her thin tank top).

"Do you, um, do you remember that conversation about Pon Farr Penny and I were having a little while back?" She whispered, seeming embarrassed to be bringing it up.

"I do," he confirmed, nodding while he finally moved his eyes from her chest to her face, "why do you ask?" He leaned down and began peppering her face with soft kisses, drawing a symphony of giggles from her, before moving from her cheeks down her chin and then to her neck.

Her giggles turned to soft moans and she tried her best to form a response, but as Spencer began sliding his hand up underneath the fabric she found herself struggling to think through the haze. She finally managed to mutter a soft, "I just—mmm—the conversation got me thinking that it might be fun to—fuck, Spencer—to kind of, like, roleplay sometime—holy shit, Spencer, please don’t stop!" His fingers had found their way to her nipples and while she spoke he began gently teasing and tormenting them.

As Spencer continued to explore the sensitive skin of (Y/N)'s chest, she couldn't help but let out another moan, causing Spencer to pause momentarily to look into her eyes. "Roleplay?" Spencer whispered hoarsely, his voice laced with both excitement and curiosity as his fingers continued their dance on her skin. "What did you have in mind?"

(Y/N) bit her lip nervously, her eyes darting around the room as if seeking inspiration. "Well," she began hesitantly, "I was thinking something along the lines of, uh, maybe a kind of Trek-themed scenario? Like, you could be a Vulcan, and I—I could be your mate?" She trailed off, her voice barely above a whisper as she watched Spencer's expression.

"And what would that involve, exactly?" he asked, his voice low and sultry, his fingers still gently stroking her nipples.

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment, her cheeks flushing a delicate shade of pink. "Well, it might involve—uh, well, you know, some intimate bonding rituals."

Spencer laughed softly, the sound warm and low in the dimly-lit room. "You want me to roleplay as a Vulcan during Pon Farr and engage in 'intimate bonding rituals' with you?" He teased, a playful grin spreading across his face. He wanted to respond by saying, marry me; instead, he settled for, "I can't say I've ever really thought about that before, but I'm willing to give it a try." He began trailing kisses from her neck down to her chest while he tugged on the hem of her shirt, pulling it off of her when she raised her arms above her head for him.

He started trailing kisses down her stomach, stopping when he reached the waistline of her pajama shorts and looking up at her through his eyelashes. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her shorts and panties, and she lifted her hips instinctively so he could slide them down her legs. Spencer moved back up her body to kiss her softly on the lips before getting up off of the bed and standing at the edge, rotating (Y/N) 90° and gently pulling her until she was lined up at the edge of the bed before spreading her legs open and kneeling down in front of her slowly.

(Y/N) shuddered with anticipation at the feeling of his breath gently hitting her dripping center. When she looked down at him he was looking up at her, his amber eyes burning with lust and his pupils blown wide. He licked his lips before leaning in and kissing her burning core softly while running his tongue out to lap up some of the beautiful slickness that had accumulated with a soft moan. He tormented her with light teases from his tongue and her hips bucked up towards his mouth, making him use one of his hands to hold them down and look up at her with a stern expression that told her, 'hold still or I'll stop.'

She whimpered at the loss of his tongue, but it was only for a split second as she felt his index finger push up against her entrance. He teased the entrance by lightly moving up and down it, collecting her honey and bringing it up to his lips and licking it off before bringing his finger back. When he started slowly pushing his finger inside of her, he attached his lips to her clit and did a delightful thing with his tongue that made her nearly see white.

She reached down and tangled her fingers in his hair and gasped out a soft, "Spencer that feels so—oh god—so fucking good!" He slowly pumped his finger in and out of her, savoring the sensation of her soft walls around it. God, how he wanted to be inside of her right now. But there was no way he was going to be able to drag himself away from her pussy, not yet. He needed more. He slipped another finger into her and sucked on her clit, running his tongue around it in circles.

He kept this up and listened to her moans for guidance and encouragement, speeding his fingers up ever so slightly and feeling her body begin to tense up underneath him. Her moans began to increase in volume and frequency, her grip on his hair growing tighter as his fingertips ran across the spongy piece of flesh on the front wall of her pussy, earning a loud and desperate wail from (Y/N) as he felt her orgasm begin to take over her.

He moaned as he lapped up her juices and gave her pussy one last kiss before wiping his mouth and chin with his wrist and moving back up to kiss her desperately. He settled his clothed hips between her soaked legs and she ground her hips against his erection through his pants. He rocked his hips against her, finding a perfect rhythm. He moaned into her mouth before pulling back and standing up, untying the drawstring on his pants to pull them and his briefs down in one swift movement.

He took his place on top of her again and nestled his cock up against her. She reached down between their bodies and stroked his throbbing member before guiding it to her entrance. He wasted no time, pushing into her immediately and groaning in relief. For a brief second he could only think in images and single word fragments. 'Soft, wet, warm,' swirled around his mind in a whirlwind of lust and pleasure as he sank into her further, burying his cock fully inside of her.

"I, uh, I don't know how long I'm going to be able to, uh, last," Spencer admitted with a small, embarrassed laugh. (Y/N)'s only response was to roll her hips against his, drawing a surprised moan from his throat.

"I honestly don't care," she panted, "I just need you to fuck me." She looked at him with a gaze that drove him absolutely mad with lust. He pulled his hips back and began fucking her with slow but moderately hard thrusts, both of them moaning as they locked their lips together again. She met his thrusts with her own movements and brought her hands back up to tangle her fingers in his hair. She tugged at it gently and he moaned and started fucking her faster in response.

"Such a good girl for me, kitten," he purred into her ear. Each moan that fell from her lips pushed him closer and closer to the edge, until he was teetering at the point of no return. "You ready for me to fill you up, baby?" She moaned and nodded in response.

Her nails dug into his shoulders and he felt her pussy begin to flutter around his cock as her second orgasm took her by surprise and ripped through her body. Loud moans spilled from the both of them when Spencer felt himself tip over the edge and stilled with one final thrust inside of her. His cock pulsed as it pumped all of his cum into her.

Once he had pulled out of her he went into the bathroom and cleaned himself off. He grabbed a washcloth and ran it under the warm water before walking back out. He knelt in front of (Y/N) and began to gently clean her up. When he was finished he planted a sweet kiss on one of her thighs before tossing the rag into the laundry basket. He crawled back into bed next to her and laid down on his back.

"You're too far away," he pouted at (Y/N) and held his arms out. She moved up and settled happily within them, resting her head on his chest and nuzzling gently. He began playing with her hair and sighed happily before muttering a soft, "I love you, (Y/N)."

"Love you, too, Spence," she mumbled, already half asleep.

[utterlyotterlyx]

The Fox and The Fawn

High Lord Eris x Rhys!Sister!Reader x Azriel

Part Six

Summary - Weeks have passed since the discovery of your Carranam status with Eris, but even as time floats by, you're struggling to grapple with the emotions that are haunting your every step, and someone appears to solidify those thoughts as truth.

Warnings - angst, fluff, found family love, mentions of trauma, ptsd themes, Nesta getting caught out, flirting, soft pining

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Eris struggled to remember a time when he was truly happy, when his life didn't revolve around the cruel clutches of his father.

It was a blessing really, how you had tumbled into his life, and he thanked the Mother each day that you spoke for him that day in the Night Court, he commended your bravery for speaking against your blood, and he watched you in awe when you had made the decision to forge the right path for yourself.

Eris' life had never been one of happiness, of fulfilment and laughter, of dancing in the rain and living in the moment, but, you had made it be that way.

Two weeks had floated by, far too quickly for his liking, but he took it as a good sign. Part of him thought that you'd retreat back into your shell that you had worked so hard to break free of once he told you of Rhys' motives, and it was hard to deny your strength when the news had only spurred you on.

It wasn't odd to see your nose burrowed into a book, and whilst Nesta read her smutty little fictions, you had focused on books that would elevate your power and understanding, and it wasn't long until you had pulled Eris to the edge of the estate, to the place where the water kissed the rocks, and asked him to touch you again.

Carranam.

It was a term that Eris hadn't heard of, and it wasn't something you had told him about, even after your powers had merged into one and black flame weaved through your joint limbs.

A soft humming danced through the air, soft crackles of the open fire sounded from the hearth before him, it's gentle glow illuminating the seating room that you had touched with comfort. Willow strewn atop you, her head on your chest that you were using as a perch for your book, your legs flung over Eris' thighs.

Two weeks had flown by, and he had never seen you look so strong, Autumn had seeped into you, and if he didn't know who you were, which wasn't possible, he would truthfully believe that you were born in Autumn. After he had told you of Rhys' motive, of the truth that had been hidden from you, you had asked Eris to help you to train your abilities, and he done so without question.

Many moons had gone where he had returned home battered and bruised, questioning why he had told you that he could take whatever you could throw at him. Turns out you could throw a lot.

And hard.

Eris had never seen darkness like it, not from Rhys or even Azriel, your darkness was playful with you, curling and coiling over your skin, but when you thought of attacking, even for a split second, those inky tendrils that resembled the blood of demons became poised and lethal, dancing like snakes over your shoulders.

The darkness didn't harm you though, it wound itself around you like a kindred spirit, like it felt sorry for you.

What are you thinking about, Fawn?

Warmth formed a shield around both of you, a shield that no one dared to prod. When you sat with one another, reading or chatting about everything and nothing, anyone who entered the room knew well enough to leave you both alone.

Your gaze flickered to him, a smirk tugged at the right corner of your lip. From what he knew, which wasn’t much, Carranam meant that you could speak telepathically to one another, that your powers balanced one another in blissful harmony.

I’m thinking about which one of your oils to steal, my skin has been feeling rather dry.

The echo of your voice in his mind was low and sultry, and you looked through your lashes at him. Eris enjoyed the moments he could spend alone with you, even if you didn’t speak much, your presence was an anchor to his consciousness, a thing that held him down to reality.

An incredulous glance was spared your way.

You look rather radiant to me.

Blushing, you turned your attention back to the book in your hands, trying not to squirm as his eyes roamed over you. It was hard to not notice the longing stares and proud eyes, the curved upward lips and the way he dressed when he knew he’d be spending the afternoon with you.

Eris always tried to impress you at every turn.

An array of fruits lay on platters on the table to your side, he knew that you were a stress eater, he had watched you pluck grapes from their vines at the turn of every page to try and distract your mind from whatever raged within it.

Golden light glimmered about the room. It was only you two that evening, Lucien had taken Elain out for dinner to silence her incessant begging to see the court where he had grown up, and Nesta was burrowed in her room on the other side of the house, no doubt nose deep in one of her fantasy novels or thinking about Cassian and everything that had transpired.

The guilt had settled into your heart, the guilt of being the reason that Nesta had walked away from her mate, and from her own sister. For you.

Eris’ fingers drifted up your calves, as if he sensed where your mind had roamed to.

I’m fine.

It’s okay not to be.

Silence.

Huffing, you folded the page of the book so that you could resume it later and placed the large thing onto the table with a dull thud. Willow sighed in your lap, and you scratched the place between her eyes to coax her back to slumber.

I feel bad.

Eris shuffled, craning his body to look at you properly, his hand resting gingerly on your knee, waiting for you to continue. It was so difficult to concentrate when he touched you, from the ghosting lingering hands on your hips during training, to the tender touches to your shoulders when you were bustling about the kitchen.

You’re all risking so much for me. Nesta has lost her mate, her and Elain have lost Feyre, Lucien has lost yet another home. I struggle to believe that it’s all worth it.

You had cried the moment Eris had admitted that Rhys had threatened war against the Autumn Court, a place you had come to love dearly. The browning leaves and the golden sun, the scent of bonfires and cinnamon, and the gentle chirping of the foxes that scoured the woodlands were what gave you solace, even the ways his people looked at you with hope and awe made you feel like you belonged.

We are your court, y/n, Eris spoke to you sternly, his voice echoing through the blank canvas that shrouded your mind. There is nothing that we wouldn’t do for you.

You shouldn’t have to.

The ability to speak to one another through your minds was a different feeling compared to that of Rhys' daemati talents. You were glad that you hadn't been gifted the ability yourself. Rhys was able to infiltrate and control the minds of anyone he wished, he had the power to influence their thoughts and, in some case, shatter their minds entirely. What you and Eris, your Carranam, shared was unlike that darkness, what you shared was the brightest of lights and warmest of summers, speaking through your consciousness felt natural and welcomed, like returning home after a long day, what you shared felt relieving.

"A home isn't a place, y/n. It's a person. Home is wherever you make it with the people who build it with you," Eris' voice was as soft as autumn rain, rain that drizzled over the trees and gave them life whilst the sun poured through the branches.

You went to curl your knees to your chest but Eris wouldn't let you, he didn't want you to retreat into yourself, drowning in guilt. Eris lay his hands firmly on your knees to keep your legs draped over him, to have your smooth skin brushing against the cloth of his briefs, to let you know that your place with him was one of safety and respect.

"And if I decide that my home is here?" Your question trailed off, you fiddled with seams of your nightgown, a long plum coloured satin number that was modest but sinful in the same swing.

"I would be honoured," Eris' fingers reached for your face, grazing the curve beneath your ear and following it across your jaw all whilst his eyes admired the fire burning in your own.

If Eris knew of the effect he had on you, he didn't let on, how he made your heart race and thoughts cloud, you weren't sure how he'd react if he did. Would he turn you away? Would he sternly tell you that your place was not meant to be by his side? Would he choose you?

You weren't sure what to think of it, but you knew for certain that you were so screwed.

The day had long since disappeared and you didn't know how long you'd been sat there with Willow and Eris, in that bubble of serenity that you actively sought out since the first instance it had occurred. It had been a long day, your mind was reeling with pain and guilt, and you had needed to feel a moment of peace, a moment where you felt like you belonged somewhere in the world. That's when Eris had led you to the seating room, he had lit the fire and whistled to his hounds, all of which lay scattered around you on the free seats and on the rugs adorning the floor, and then there was Willow who always found her place beside you.

Eris couldn't even find the will to be annoyed about it before he had nestled in beside you, placed your legs on his lap, and told you that no matter what happened you would always have a place in Autumn, and, if you chose to leave, he would happily give you whatever it is you would need to build a life that you wanted, that you deserved.

It was his own tortured soul that craved to give you whatever you desired, he couldn't give himself the same luxury, but he could give it to you.

As if sensing his own self-doubt and the lingering emotion of feeling completely unworthy to breathe the same air as you or else taint it, Eris pulled back, and an unwelcomed shiver ran up your spine at the sudden movement, "It's late," the look on your face wounded him, the flash of dismissal that clasped around the ring of burnt orange and molten gold in your irises.

Shaking your head softly, you rose from the seat, Willow groaning at the movement of you sliding out from beneath her, "It is," you reached for the book on the table and held it close to your chest, taking a moment before retreating toward the staircase but not lingering there at all before pattering upward and disappearing from sight.

Gods.

Eris ran a hand over his face and threw his head backward, sighing. There was nothing that he wanted more than to know what your lips tasted like, how they would feel moulded to his, but he couldn't let himself find out. After everything you had been through, you deserved real love, you deserved to know what it felt like to be independent, and Eris didn't believe that a life with him would do you any amount of good. Eris believed that he was an evil male, many would agree with the thought, and he couldn't allow himself to give into that carnal desire to be with you.

In whatever capacity you could allow, Eris wanted to be in your life, and if that was simply as a friend, then he would choke down every emotion he could to ensure that friendship lived as long as you both did.

"She doesn't believe it, you know?" Eris' head snapped to the side to see Nesta lingering in the archway to the room, her silver eyes flittering about the space with intrigue as she inhaled deeply and smirked softly, to herself. When Eris didn't answer, waiting for her to explain, she continued, "If y/n thought that you were evil, truly evil, then she would have never aided you that day."

Of course Nesta Archeron had to be the voice of reason and truth, "She deserves better," Nesta cocked her head to the side and examined him, but more than that, she was noting the moulded scents that clung to the air.

A tingling harmonisation made the hairs on her arms stand on end, it was both of you, your scent of freshly blown out matches and adored parchment with a hint of jasmine, and his scent of pine and warm oranges, of subtle spices and apple pie straight from the oven.

Stupid. Blind. Fools.

Nesta took a step into the room, allowing your scents to wash over her, a strong prominent smell that threatened to overwhelm her senses, "After I was Made, y/n was one of the very few people who understood me, she saw straight through the mask I had dared to wear around her and picked it from my face piece by piece."

Settling into the armchair across the way from the High Lord, Nesta smiled fondly, lost in the memories of you, and continued, "I wasn't the best of sisters to Feyre and Elain, but as soon as I met y/n, I found myself working for a second chance to do things right. That's what y/n can do, she can make you feel like you can change, like there's still time to turn the tables and be the person you have always wanted to be," Eris listened intently, a soft smile on his lips, "I may have lost Cassian, my mate," she swallowed hard, "And my sister, and nephew, and friends if you could even call them that," Nesta looked to Eris, she looked deep into his soul and saw parts of you burning within it, "But I would lose it all again, in every life, if it meant that I had her. The person who made me believe in the goodness of the world, in the light that existed in me, and mended parts of me that I didn't even realise were broken."

It was an honest conversation, one that Eris didn't think would ever occur again.

"She wouldn't allow you to go to war for her," the atmosphere shifted, "She would sooner rather give herself back to a life in that prison than risk anything happening to you, and you wouldn't be able to stop her from doing it."

"Is it something she thinks about?"

Nesta craned her head to look over her shoulder, half-expecting you to be stood there, but when you weren't, having confined yourself to your room prior to Nesta's appearance, she sighed, "I know it is."

Time halted for a moment, and his breath became caught in his throat. So much work had gone into training your abilities, from both of you, if war was to rage on then no army would be able to stand against you.

That was the problem.

In doing that, in decimating armies and going to war against your own brother, the entire land would see you as what Rhys had made them fear. A monster. A putrid thing of the darkest pits of Hel.

"You never told her what you found," Nesta stiffened, "When you went Under The Mountain, you told her that Azriel didn't find anything. Not we, not I, just Azriel," Nesta leaned forward in her seat, her silver eyes blazing with flames of warning, "What are you hiding, Nesta? What did you find Under The Mountain? What did Amarantha do?"

"Rhys can never know, and she can only know when she is ready to."

And so Nesta told him what she had seen, what she had felt, and once she had finished, she sat back and said nothing as the colour drained from his face.

A morning alone was exactly what you needed.

The early morning light had woken you before the rest of the house, and the sleep you had gotten was deep enough to allow you to dream, dream soundly enough that you had woken feeling lighter than you had felt in weeks.

Birdsong drifted through the woods, your cloak drifted along in the gentle morning breeze, and the dry leaves beneath your feet crunched under yours and Willow's weight as she trotted beside you over the mound of earth. Axos snorted in the background as you nearly slipped over a damp twig that slipped under your foot, and you looked back to the stallion with a craned brow.

The courage to ride Axos on your own had sprouted from nowhere, the notion of it called to you as soon as you had glanced to the cream riding boots from Eris, and you had dressed in your riding gear quickly before entering the stables and asking one of the stableboys to ready the stallion for you.

Axos was more surprised to see you than you were to see him, and the beast had even lowered himself a few inches to make your ascent a little easier.

You weren't entirely sure where you were going, or where you wanted to end up that morning, but it had been hours and you were happy to find the place where your feet wished to carry you.

Unbound hair drifted over your face, and you blew the strands away as you continued to climb upward, up and up until you couldn't see Axos anymore, up and up until the ground and air began to turn cold and your breath was wisps of smoke before your face.

Expecting a spectacular view, your heart stopped beating in your chest when you saw it.

The large black wings and the coiling grin.

"Hello, sister," his voice drawled, he was dressed in his usual attire, a black suit of sorts, wearing a face you couldn't quite read.

Rhys was far enough away that he couldn't reach through the wards and grab you but close enough that you could feel his anger rippling along the barrier of the Autumn Court.

Looking about the space, you felt like a rabbit backed into a corner, waiting for the dogs to tear it apart. Willow bared her teeth at him, and he looked at her with such insignificance that it made your blood roar.

Turn around, y/n. Just walk away.

Those violet eyes roamed over you, flaring at the sight of your unbound hair, the cloak, the clothes covering your skin and the riding boots smudged with mud. How Autumn had poisoned you, "You look different."

"Why are you here?"

Rhys smirked, finding amusement in your reluctance to engage with him, "Just because we can't get in, doesn't mean we can't go above."

The earth rumbled as another body joined the fray, and you winced when you saw Azriel take his place at Rhys' side. Of course he had been tasked with soaring over the court, he was keeping an eye on you.

"I knew it would only be a matter of time until you ventured out on your own," Rhys stated. Azriel's eyes were wide as he took you in, his lips cast downward and eyebrows scrunched, contorted in pain as he saw the same sentiment lying in your eyes, "It's time to stop this nonsense, y/n. You've made your point, now it's time to come home."

In the distance, you heard Axos call out to you, Willow moved to stand in front of you, seemingly believing that she alone could protect you if the High Lord dared to make a single move to reach through those shields.

"I'm not coming back."

Rolling his neck to keep his temper in check, Rhys clenched and then relaxed his fists, exhaling through his mouth is a perfect o, "Do you know what is going to happen if you don't? You are property of the Night Court, people have been killed for less."

There was no choice but to throw up your mask, "The only one I belong to is myself, and you'd do well to remember that. Let's not forget who holds the true power here, brother."

Matching his façade of calm, you caught his lip twitch, "I will kill them all, Nesta, Lucien and Elain, even your precious Eris, and every male, female, or child who would dare to try and keep you from me, and I will make you watch as I do it, until you submit yourself."

Kill Nesta. Elain and Lucien. Eris.

You would not let your mask break, you would not let him see the panic that ravaged within you, "I will burn your court to ash if you even try it. I wouldn't bother testing me," you raised your hand against your side, allowing those black flames to spark at your fingertips and lick up the skin of your forearm. Azriel gasped softly, the flame reminding him all to well of his own afflictions, and he stepped back.

Wincing in your chest, your heart skipped a beat or two, you had never wanted Azriel to think that you'd hurt him, even if your bargain prevented such a thing from ever occurring. The horror in his eyes made you believe for a moment that you were the monster Rhys had spread the word of.

"Not even you could survive my wrath, Rhys. And now that I know of everything you have done to keep me chained, you're lucky that a shield stands between us."

Rhys smirked, it was sadistic and menacing, it was something that fuelled your nightmares, "Everything I have ever done was to protect you. The power you have is not natural, it is not from this world."

You inhaled deeply, a feline grin tugged at your lips and you kept quiet, waiting.

"Stop pretending that her power doesn't threaten everything that you are, Rhysand, which isn't much," you didn't need to glance over your shoulder to know that Eris was stood behind you, you could feel his face hovering to the side of your head, you could feel his fingers move to rest on your waist.

"I would say that it was nice to see you both, but that would be a lie. Don't come here again," you turned your back to them and caught a glance of Eris, of his stone cold face and deadly stare, deadly enough that you were sure that Rhys wouldn't be safe from it even if he was six feet under.

Making the decision to walk away, to descend the hill, shivers prickled down your spine at the words that flew through the air, "I won't warn you again, y/n. Come home, or I will make sure that you are left with nothing."

Eris placed a hand on the small of your back, his thumb rubbing circles into the fabric atop your skin in attempt to soothe you, and he guided you onward, and you didn't once look back at the males you once called family.

Neither of you spoke a word on the descent, even Willow padded alongside you silently with her head hung low, her nose kissing the ground. As soon as the ground was flat and Axos was back in your view, you couldn't help but speed to the nearest tree and use it as leverage as you emptied the contents of your stomach.

Palms rubbed slow circles into your back, Eris' soft voice called to you and he moved your hair from your shoulders so that it didn't become covered in the liquid. After a few moments, you let out a panting breath and wiped your lips with the back of your hand.

"I didn't realise how far we'd gone. I'm sorry."

Eris looked to you confused and hurt, hurt that you'd think he would ever scold you for exploring your home, "Are you alright?"

The nod you gave him wasn't at all convincing, that paired with your shaking form, he knew that Rhys had gotten under your skin. Without hesitation, Eris pulled you into his chest, entangling his fingers in your hair and held you as sobs broke through your lips, "I didn't want to believe it, I didn't want to believe that it was true," the sounds of your broken words hurt him.

Amongst all of the fire and sass, amongst all of the kind words and wonder, there was still a little girl inside of you that wanted nothing more than to be loved, to be valued and protected in the most pure sense possible.

An entire life of chains had dulled you, taken parts of you that weren't theirs to take, and Eris was finding it hard to restrain his anger, he was finding it hard to not set the High Lord alight and chuckle as he burned.

Whatever happened to Rhys from here on out was solely your decision, Eris wouldn't take that from you.

And in that moment, as he stood in the woodland of his court with you broken and crying in his arms, did he mull over Nesta's words in his mind and decide that loving you openly was better than depriving you both of the notion.

Love was a risk, but he would rather waltz into the unknown, whether that mean death or not, with you by his side than allow either of you to spend another moment believing that you were unworthy of happiness.

Authors Note

It's getting hot in hereeeee

Hope you love it! x

Taglist

@mybestfriendmademe @jesskidding3 @rosewood-cafe @fandomarchiveilyd @brujitafantomatico @crazylokonugget @mai-adaptive-dreams @magicstrengthandcourage @acourtofmoonlightandstars @ysmttty @lilah-asteria @circe143 @xyzmeh @paleidiot @namelesssav @amberlynn98 @acourtofbatboydreams @azrielsmate3 @ivy-34 @mp-littlebit @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @iamjimintrash @ifonlyiwerefiction @pirana10 @donttellthecats @padbaeamidla