#soul(mate)s of light asks

[harukadrawsthings]

Just had a thought. When Goh catches zorra or zorrark, the illusion pokemon is going to at least once, prank him with an illusion of Mew.

It's possible it would do that to him, yes! It could be difficult to observe him in its real form due to the large Pokémon population in Cerise Park as well.

[smutoperator]

https://x.com/viraltakes/status/1869332739666952488?t=Zfac8LL4WQ7MI68zQpfQGQ&s=19

PLAP PLAP!PLAP!

Get pregnant!

PLAP PLAP!PLAP!

Get pregnant!

Motherhood Dreams

Jeon Soyeon x Male Reader

Tags: apartment sex, belly bulging, feet play, floor sex, horny girl, impregnation, mating press, ovulation, prone bone, public nudity, riding, rough sex, sex with a stranger, (lots of) sloppy blowjobs, submissive and clingy, tiny and pretty girl

Word count: 3562

Alone in her apartment, Soyeon felt like this was the day she needed to fulfill her dreams of becoming a mother. She couldn't wait anymore, feeling her body aching as her sex drive only increased while she started experiencing ovulation. She had to get herself pregnant as soon as possible.

Soyeon went outside her apartment, wearing only a coat to deal with the freezing Seoul weather and her lingerie. She was truly determined to find the first guy on the street and make him impregnate her. Walking across a street, she didn't see the red light, forcing you to slam on the brakes as your car almost hit her.

"WHAT THE FUCK? COME ON, YOU CAN'T CROSS ON A RED LIGHT," you screamed at her. "I'm sorry," a very needy Soyeon answered, a couple of tears flowing from her eyes. Despite her tough image and strong leadership, Soyeon is a very soft person who always feels embarrassed when she makes a mistake. "It's fine," you told her.

"Can you take me back home?" Soyeon asked. "Sure," you promptly answer her. "Just type your address on the GPS," you told her. Soyeon did that, quickly opening your car's windows in spite of the freezing weather, popping half her tiny body out of it. "This girl is crazy," you said, but she couldn't hear it, as your radio was blasting her group's song "Fate." Fitting, as it felt like she could only avoid getting hit and being taken back home thanks to some improbable combination of events.

Soyeon was feeling so wild and horny she took her bra off, flashing her perky little tits in the open and then middle fingering some random driver in a tunnel. She truly felt like she was in the sky right now, completely untouchable and not caring about her surroundings, only focused on one thing: getting herself pregnant.

As you finally reached the parking lot of her apartment, Soyeon quickly made her moves, getting close to you and pushing your head as you kissed her neck and massaged her bare tits. You could tell her body was boiling as an effect of her ovulation. Soon she dropped on her knees, unzipping your pants with the strength of a hungry lion, getting your cock ready with a very short soul-sucking blowjob. she stopped as soon as she felt your precum rising. "Let's go inside, you better save this cum to get me pregnant," she said.

"Carry me, please," a needy Soyeon said shortly after. You were still confused but enjoyed what that hungry woman had to offer, following her orders and putting her tiny body on top of your right shoulder, dropping her at the apartment's front door as Soyeon opened it and smiled at you. You were impressed at the size of it, as she pinned herself against the wall close to the stairs and started giving you very hot kisses and touching your body from top to bottom, paying special attention to the hard cock under your pants she had tasted a few moments ago.

"Take me here; I want to be your fucktoy until you breed me," Soyeon said, pointing to the stairs as she put her arms behind her back and let you grab them as she let you pin her against the handrail. The roaring lion knew quite well how to be a submissive kitten, and this is what Soyeon wanted to be tonight, just a needy girl who wanted her pussy to be turned into a cum dump.

You give Soyeon's ass a little spanking. "Hmmmmm," she softly moaned, already feeling very sensitive, but quickly reacted as she started grinding it against your clothed crotch, instantly making you throb hard. You could tell that woman was very experienced and had an insane sex drive, and just by that quick blowjob she had given you at that parking lot, you could already tell this could be an amazing night.

You tossed your shirt on the ground as Soyeon kissed you, and you grabbed her waist while she kept grinding her ass against you. Quickly, you took her panties down and spread her ass cheeks, diving your face in it, licking both her holes. "Uhhhh shit, oh my god," she moaned once again and laughed as you gave her ass another little tap before moving up and kissing her as she enjoyed the taste of her holes.

Soyeon grabbed the chains on your neck, but you quickly countered her, turning her around and taking your clothes off as you pushed your massive cock out and slapped against her ass cheeks. "Please, I need it; put it in my pussy and fuck it until you fill it to the brim," Soyeon begged. You lifted her small left leg and started to insert your cock in her pussy. "Ohhhh yeah," she moaned, very excited as her pussy already throbbed hard for that cock.

"OH MY GOD, HOLY FUCK," a very sensitive Soyeon screamed as you pushed your cock deeper in her pussy. You started very slowly. "Give me, please," she begged as you gripped her waist and thrust inside her cunt. As your cock hit her cervix for the first time, Soeyon's body trembled. "Fucking big," it was all she could say, already losing her breath as you kept pushing, her getting very sweaty in spite of the cold temperatures and her hair getting utterly messy.

"It's so good; keep pushing," Soyeon said as you increased the speed of your thrusts. "Damn, that's so fucking amazing," she said, kissing you as she could barely utter words out of her mouth. "Oh shit," you said, confronted with the tightness of her cunt and clapping her cheeks hard to get deep inside her throbbing walls. Soyeon bounced a bit and then let you take full control, dreaming of herself getting pregnant each second your cock went in and out of her pussy.

"AHHHHH FUCKKK," Soyeon let out a massive scream as soon as you could no longer contain yourself and smacked your cock deeper and deeper in her pussy. "Fuck me hard, baby," she said, barely able to hold herself as she clung to the handrail. "Damn it," she cursed as your cock was balls deep inside her, hitting her cervix every single time it went all the way in.

"I love how my belly bulges," Soyeon said as your cock kept working on her pussy. The gap in size between you two was almost 30 cm, but the tiny, pretty Jeon was able to handle your massive cock just fine. you could tell that her strength far overwhelmed her pocket size, as while many girls complained of your big cock stretching them out, she kept inviting you for more.

"OH MY GOD, OH SHIT!" Soyeon finally screamed as you pushed her to the limit. She guided you to the spatious living room of her aparment, pushing you to the couch as she showed you why she's one of the best cocksuckers in the business. You felt like a boss as Soyeon impaled her throat on your big cock and got very sloppy from the start, bobbing her head like crazy and gagging all over that dick.

"Oh yeah," Soyeon says as she performs a very speedy blowjob, slapping your cock against her tongue as she works her magic on it, covering it full of saliva. "Fuck yeah, you're so fucking nasty, baby," you say to her as she covers her mouth and strokes your tip while licking it as well. In the end her blowjobs are like her raps: very loud, very fast, very powerful.

Soyeon kept sucking and jerking your cock off like the nasty bitch she was, spitting all the way in your tip and savoring it shortly after. She had such an unorthodox way of blowing cocks off, rarely deepthroating them but making fast moves circling around the tip. She loves to tell her groupmates that's a rapper's blowjob, while deepthroats are vocalists blowjobs.

Soyeon climbs up and lets you taste her cock-filled mouth. You can tell she's hornier than ever. You massage her ass and spread her cunt, making her moan and smile as she keeps giving you sloppy kisses before climbing down for another round of crazy cock-sucking and head-boby. "HOLY FUCK," you scream, putting an end to her fun. Soyeon crawls on the carpet, you chasing her and spanking her ass, making her laugh. you catch Soyeon and pin her against the floor, spreading her ass as you get ready to mount on top of her. "OH MY GOD," she screams in pain as your cock instantly slides all the way deep in her cunt.

You fuck Soyeon like a savage, her feeling as if her soul is leaving her body. Rolling her eyes and screaming as her body gets pressed to the floor, Soyeon can feel you bulge under a little belly, making her start dreaming again of it getting inflated with a baby inside it. "SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT," she curses every time your cock hits her cervix as you keep plowing her cunt in an animalesque prone bone position. "Baby, you're so deep in me," she says, barely able to breathe as your cock rips her pussy apart.

"FUCK, IT'S SO BIG, I LOVE IT," Soyeon screams as you clap her cheeks relentlessly. "I love it, baby; keep fucking me, baby." she soon gets very needy, you just followe her instructions as loud noises come out of each thrust you give Soyeon's pussy. You put her back on all fours, grabbing her shoulders and remaining on yop of her. "OH MY GOD, AHHHHHH" she screams again, but the more she does it, the harder you fuck her.

Soyeon is a complete mess as she's all sweaty and can barely sit on her feet. She kisses you before getting all submissive for another round of pounding. "Keep doing that," she says, getting what she asks for as she grinds her teeth while getting obliterated. "Keep going, keep going; it's so deep," she moans. "You're fucking the shit out of me; that's what I want, FUCKKKKK," she says.

You pause the pounding a bit to caress Soyeon's stretched-out pussy. "You're fucking me so good, baby," she whispers in your ear. "I want you to fuck me more; don't stop; fill me up," she begs as she stays on all fours on the carpet and shakes her ass in your face, and you lick her throbbing pussy after so much pounding. "Keep doing that, oh my god, you lick me so good," she says, increasing the speed of her ass shaking as you dive deep in her pussy.

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck," Soyeon contorts in pain as your cock gets back inside her, her body more sensitive than ever. But you just keep pounding her pussy despite her screams. "OH MY GOD, BABY, IT'S SO DEEP!" she continues to scream as she gets weaker and weaker. "Wait, wait, wait," she begs, unable to stay on her feet.

You grab Soyeon's tiny body and push it up, kissing her as you let her recover from your hard pounding. She's so small and weak you carry her with ease, sliding your cock in her pussy and carry-fucking her. "HOLY FUCK, DAMN IT," she screams as her cheeks get clapped hard while her body is up in the air, clinging hard to you not to fall off. "OHHHHHH FUCKKKKK," she screams as you plow her pussy harder and harder, not giving it any rest.

You put Soyeon back on her feet after your quick carry-fucking session is over. She's more needy than ever. You reward her with another sloppy blowjob, her salivating like crazy all over your shaft and bobbing her head on it with eyes wide open. The way she plays with the tip never ceases to amaze you, making bubbles with her mouth around it and letting a string of saliva fully coat it as she worships it like crazy with her "rapping blowjob.".

"Get in there," you tell Soyeon, opening the yellow curtains of the living room. "What a view to get fucked, right?" you ask her, pinning her against the glass. Soyeon can't even answer, feeling weaker than ever. "OH MY GOSH, BABY," she screams as your cock gets inside her, reacting and pulling out before putting it in the right position. She keeps moaning but bounces her ass on it as she looks at the amazing view of Seoul in the mirror while you stretch her out. "OH MY GOD, IT'S SO DEEP," she says as you grab her cute butt. Soyeon closes her eyes, the glass getting foggy as she breathes all over it. "Fuck, baby, fuck, make me cum like that," she says, her hands going from the glass to her pussy.

"AHHHHH AHHHHHH I'M GONNA CUM," Soyeon says as she squirts all over the wooden floor, clinging to the support of the window. You grab her tiny waist and stay fucking her like usual, groping her little tits, so as Soyeon increasingly loses the grip over her own body, she crawls once again in the room, unable to walk at this point as she is extremely sensitive and her ovulation is in full effect. She tries to go upstairs, but you easily catch her and put your cock back in her pussy. "AHHHHHHH," she screams as you hold her waist and fuck her right at the door that leads to the living room, her body facing the floor as she once again feels like her soul is escaping from her.

You carry Soyeon upstairs, dropping her at her bed and spreading her legs as you worship her throbbing pussy. "Ohhhh baby," she moans as you eat her out, closing her eyes and enjoying squirting all over your face while your tongue works fast and hard on her clit, reminding her of her own blowjobs. "Keep going, baby, shitttt," she moans as her pussy gets even wetter and her legs shake. You take off her stockings and nearly all her lingerie, your cock already pointing once again towards that stretched-out cunt. You then kiss and worship her feet. "Oh yeah, baby, treat me like a goddess," Soyeon says as you lick her toes, her being so sensitive now that even that makes her moan a lot. "Holy fuck, the way you kiss my feet is so sexy," she says.

Soyeon then moves closer to you as she decides to sit on your lap, impale herself full of your cock once again. She may not be able to walk at this point, but she can still ride on a dick like her life depends on it. You can quickly tell she's a pro at cock riding, her bounces being firm, well-paced, and strong, alternating slow and fast moves as she's now in full control of your cock, using her throbbing pussy to give it the best possible massage.

Soyeon tilts her body forward as she keeps moving up and down your cock while you wrap your arms around her body to bring her closer. "Holy shit," she moans as she gets fully impaled by your massive size. "Oh my God, that cock is amazing," she says as she quickly squats and twerks on it, with you staying on the edge not to cum inside her and fulfill her motherhood fantasies. "Your dick is so fucking perfect, baby, and it'll be even more perfect when you fill my tiny little pussy with cum," she says, taking dirty, while at the same time getting very clingy and kissing you.

As Soyeon gets on her feet for the first time in a while, she stays committed to bouncing on your dick, feeling as if she's floating in the air. She moves so fast now you feel scared she's gonna snap that cock in half. "HOLY FUCK, IT'S HITTING ME SO DEEP," she screams, but remains focused on riding it anyway, toying with it as she spins on your shaft.

"Fuck me deep; I need this so bad," Soyeon tells you as she gets even clingier, hugging you and just letting your cock freakily pump her cunt. "Give that big fucking cock to me, please. oh my god, keep doing that, OHHHHH FUCKKKKKK, I'M CUMMING, OH GODDDDD," Soyeon starts moaning as you hit her pussy nonstop, her short hair fully covering her face as she struggles to deal with the heat you put in her fuckhole. "That's so sexy, baby, keep going," she says regardless and then resumes bouncing on your cock, opening and closing her legs and inventing new ways to ride it and getting herself stretched out.

"Give me, give me, give me, please. I want more cock," Soyeon says. "Then suck it," you tell her, pushing her little body out of you and jerking yourself off in preparation for another round of amazing blowjobs. Soyeon interlocks her pussy lips with your mouth's lips, stretching her little body to dive her mouth back on that cock, although you're so big she doesn't need to make much of an effort despite her short height.

Soyeon alternates bobbing her head firmly using her hands and using no hand at all, choking herself on that big shaft like a maniac, her hair bouncing all over her face as she spins it as she moans with you eating her pussy, but it all gets muffled under that big shaft. Soyeon spits hard on it as her head-bobbing only gets crazier and crazier. She looks at the window and starts having visions of a massive concert crowd, as wild fantasies of her performing oral sex on a fan in front of a huge audience start popping into her mind.

"I want you to cum deep in my pussy. I want you to make me the mother I've always wanted to be," Soyeon says as she finishes sucking your cock off and lays on the bed again as opens her legs. With your cock so wet from her sloppy blowjob, you slide in her already used up cunt with ease, getting ready to fuck her in missionary position. She's needier than ever, kissing you the second your cock gets inside her again. You take it very slow, her already very wasted and barely feeling her legs. Soyeon massages her clit and tries to cope with the heat your cock put in her pussy. "Ohhh baby, your cock feels so good inside me," she says, spreading her bottom lips and praying to god every time you hit her cervix.

You finally throw any caution out of the window and fuck Soyeon hard. "OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD," she screams as tears flow out of her eyes. You wreck her tiny, pretty pussy hard, showing no regard for it. "This shit is so huge," she says as she wraps her legs around your body and lets you plow her at full speed, her body bouncing like crazy. "HOLY FUCK," she screams as you turn her into nothing but a cocksleeve.

You put Soyeon under a mating press, making her fulfill the fantasy she always dreamed of after seeing it countless times in her hentai collection. She never thought it could happen to her, yet here you were, ready to inseminate her tiny pretty cunt at the most submissive position ever. "Fuck me like a toy, please, breed me, I want your baby, OH MY GOD, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK," Soyeon moans as your balls clap against her cheeks and her cunt gets stretched to the fullest. It's now or never for both of you: you're not pulling out until you fill that pussy up, she's not letting you go until you impregnate her.

"I WANT YOU TO CUM DEEP IN THE PUSSY, ALL THE WAY DEEP, BABY," Soyeon demands, and as soon as you hear these words, you empty your balls in her cunt. "I'm gonna cum, ahhhhh," you announce as her walls squeeze your cock and she gets filled to the brim, you two recreating those classic breeding hentai scenes as Soyeon's vagina is turned into a white mess of sperm. "Holy fuck, I hope you came enough to give me that baby I wanted," Soyeon says, thanking you by cleaning your cock and then kissing you.

"Take me to the shower; I want you to fill me up again there as well," she says, getting your cock quickly hard again with a sloppy blowjob and preparing it for a second round.

And that's how you spent the whole night, becoming Soyeon's personal inseminator and cumming countless times in her ovulating womb. A few days pass by, Soyeon praying it was enough to get her pregnant. One day, she passes through the same places you fucked her that night, going from her bedroom to the living room all the way to her shower, until she stops and throws up in her toilet.

It's the sign she needed. Soyeon picks up a pregnancy test from her sink drawer. "Please, please, tell me I'm pregnant," she prays. After a few minutes, the test comes up positive.

"HOLY FUCK, I'M GOING TO BE A MOTHER," Soyeon screams. She takes a pic of the test and sends it to you with the caption. "Baby, I'm pregnant.".

Damn, she wasn't kidding when she told you to impregnate her, was she?

[monzamash]

still tasting you lando norris x you (older piastri sister) rating – 18+ (sex, coarse language) requested by @sublimebarbie for monzamusings ✨

“I’m about to act up if we don’t get out of here soon.”

Lando's voice was hushed and close, barely audible over the loud music but you heard him; you heard the suggestion in his tone - eyes dark when you peered into them, scorching through your soul. 

The room was a blur – bodies everywhere, EDM vibrating through the floor and syphoning up the ceiling, making your head spin. The shots on the way in didn’t help your sense of direction, the tequila tasting bitter on the tip of your tongue as you followed your brother; a chain of McLaren employees all fighting their way through the dense crowd. It was loud, raised voices trying to figure out where we were being dragged. Truthfully, it was almost too much. 

Until you saw him. His navy button down shirt stuck to his tanned skin, black thick-rimmed sunglasses shielding his bloodshot eyes, bright toothy smile reflecting the flashing lights. He was the embodiment of ‘dance like nobody’s watching’ with his arm raised in the air, singing along to a remix of No Diggity. Carefree, giving zero fucks until he saw you. 

To the outside looking in, you two were friendly - he was your younger brother's teammate, after all. But in the shadows, there were unspeakable acts of pleasure occurring that had you both sworn to secrecy. Quick glances, ghosting touches, passionate make out sessions behind motorhomes and late night rendezvous in hotel rooms. It was the whole ‘sneaking around’ cliche and you loved it. 

Especially when he looked at you like that. 

Like you’d hung the stars in the sky, like there was nobody else in the room but you. He was ravenous and completely enamoured; rendered speechless every single time. 

Granted, you looked hot. Intentionally. You craved his undivided attention and you had it in spades. He’d slipped away from the DJ booth as soon as he saw you lining up for a drink - chatting away with his PR manager and pretending like you couldn't feel his searing presence behind you. 

“Hey guys,” Lando cooly greeted, smiling brighter than the sun.

“Hey hun, I'm ordering drinks - what do you want?” Sophie asked, waiting a beat for Lando’s answer and getting nothing in return, “Lando?”

“Huh?” he mumbled, tearing his gaze away from you to his media manager who was still waiting for his drink order, but now with a sly smirk on her face, “Couldn’t hear you over the music.” He tried to play it off and she simply hummed in agreement and turned back to the bartender.

“Smooth,” you whispered playfully, pulling him into a friendly side hug, “Congrats on the win… must feel amazing.” 

Lando nodded and ran his hands through his hair - you'd noticed he always did that when he was nervous. His cheeks would flush, eyes would dart to anywhere but yours and his fingers would find the frayed ends of his gorgeous curls. All tell tale signs that he was into you. 

“Yeah, it does…” he agreed, nodding and chewing the inside of his cheek, “Not as amazing as you look but still pretty good.”

He could turn it on when he wanted to. And it made you blush as your idle hands playfully swatted him away until you spotted your little brother strolling over to the two of you with a smile. 

“Hey mate,” Oscar greeted happily, patting his teammate on the shoulder, “Celebrating?”

“Absolutely,” Lando enthused and held up his vodka soda with a grin, “Is Lily here?”

“Yeah she’s talking to someone. Thought i’d just come over and make sure my sister wasn’t annoying you again,” he winked, knowing that you were the least annoying person he knew. 

So you rolled your eyes and started to walk away, “Rich coming from you, kid.”

Oscar simply laughed, none the wiser to your arrangement with his teammate, “Don’t have too much fun and remember which side of the garage you’re related to, yeah?” “Yeah, yeah.” you brushed him off and slyly grasped Lando’s wrist, dragging him off into the sea of sweaty bodies and debauchery. 

It didn’t take long for his hands to find a place on your swaying hips, entranced by the way they moved to the music reverberating through your chest. It was hot, in more ways than just the temperature rising in the room as capacity hit. Lando’s breath swept across the back of your neck as he leaned in, so close to pressing his lips to the soft spot between your ear and shoulder that gifted him with the sweetest sounds he had ever heard.

It took every ounce of will power to save it for the bedroom. 

But he was fighting a losing battle. 

“I’m about to act up if we don’t get out of here soon.”

You couldn't stop the smirk tugging on the corners of your lips as his confession washed over you. So you spun around in his arms and leaned in a little closer than "friendly".

But you didn't care – you needed him.

“Then take me somewhere and do something about it.”

That’s all it took. Five little words had you pressed up against the wall of the lavish bathroom. The lighting was dim, nothing but a single sconce illuminating the copper walls and the gorgeous vanity you were perched upon. It was clumsy, all teeth as you kissed the man holding you up, legs sprawled and mewls slipping from your ruby lips. Tongue tied and breathless, all the things to make a quickie, a quickie. 

“So fucking tight,” Lando grumbled as he pumped two fingers into you, the dampened string of what resembled a pair of panties haphazardly pulled to the side.

“Need to fuck me good then, hey.” It was a taunt fuelled by carnal need and desire - Lando simple nodded and lazily nipped at the skin exposed on your neck. 

“Gonna fuck you so good, baby.”

He was painfully hard, which made unzipping his ridiculously tight trousers even harder than usual. But he managed to do it without missing a beat, fingers still delving into the depths he craved to feel squeezing his aching dick. He’d thought about it all day, even had to have a cold shower because of how fucking obsessed he was with the way you felt around him, clenching like you were now around his thick digits. 

“We’ve gotta be quick so leave everything on,” you whispered with a devilish glint in your hungry eyes, fiddling with his belt buckle.

Lando wasn’t going to protest, in fact he loved the idea of having you like this - fully clothed with only your cute, black lacy panties pulled to the side for him to slide into. He couldn’t wait any longer. His trousers and pants were hastily shoved down just enough to free him, the slick coat of excitement cooled by the air and sending a chill down his spine. Until he removed his fingers and ran himself through your folds, eliciting the sound of an angel, heaven sent.

“We good?” he asked sweetly and you nodded with pleading eyes, sealing a layer of consent before nudging his tip into you. 

A chorus of moans harmonised between the two of you, pleasantly satisfied by the intimacy as he shuffled forward with a gentle huff. It felt too good to have him inside you, filling you up with a delicious fullness you constantly craved from him. It’s all you needed after a long day of yearning and discreetly glancing across the garages - all you could think about was this moment, where it was just you and him; so outrageously turned on that you couldn’t wait to get back to his hotel. Desperately devoted.

“Feels unbelievable, baby,” you praised in a breathy moan, head tilted back against the already steamed up mirror hanging behind you.

“Having you like this is a fucking dream,” Lando practically growled as he pulled down the top of your dress and kissed the tops of your breasts, “So beautiful.” 

Everything felt heightened as you relaxed against the vanity, fully trusting his tight grip and letting go of all inhibitions. That’s how you felt with Lando - walls down and no longer scared to feel it all with someone. And god, it felt good to purge all the pent up lust and aching to have him like this, panting and whispering filth into your ear; every word and jut surmounting to the knot in your stomach snapping to ribbons all at once. Your rushed words pathetically coming out in a whine.

“Lan… Baby I’m gonna- fuck, I’m so close.” 

“Shhh, I got you darling, come ‘f me…” he sweetly whispered, easing you over the edge as his fingers caressed the bundle of nerves between your thighs like precious cargo. 

You chanted his name over and over and over again, fingernails clutching his clothed back for leverage as you convulsed in pleasure, shockwaves hitting every nerve in your body as he spilled into you with an exasperated groan. He was beautiful, all flushed and fucked out as he pressed his forehead to yours, weary eyes locked in once again. 

“Some of our best yet, I reckon,” Lando whispered, his smirking lips ghosting yours. 

You chuckled and gave him a quick kiss as you slid down off the vanity, readjusting your panties to their usual position. There was a short beat before you glanced back up at him with a smile, fingertips instinctively tracing the angles of his sharp jaw. 

“Oh, we’re just getting started, baby.” 

a/n – something a bit different! i've always wanted to explore a lando x older piastri sister because well, this fic series exists and older reader stories just hit harder and are a lot easier for me to write. so let me know what you think!

click here for more writing...

[tojipie]

prison bf series linked here !

hii ! not rly phone sex, but sex nonetheless. i’m rly loving this series <33 prison toji unboxing fic coming someday in the distant future.

content: nsfw + phone sex

──────────────────────

the sudden vibrations of your phone’s ringer rips you from the boundary between sleep and awareness. you groggily reach for the device from it’s place under your pillow, clicking the off button twice to end the call.

the number rings again, then a third time before you finally pick up, ready to tear into the poor soul on the other line. it’s a facetime call from an area code you don’t recognize, probably just a misdial if you’re lucky.

you hesitantly accept and tilt the camera towards the ceiling, shielding your face from the stranger.

“hello..?” you mumble sleepily, trying to get a good look at your phone without revealing too much of yourself. the person’s screen is grainy from the lack of light, probably calling you on an older model.

the stranger’s camera pans down, revealing familiar tufts of straight raven hair. toji stares up at you from his bunk, shirtless with the sheets bunched up to his chest.

“you too good to pick up the phone now?” he asks, clearly teasing. the inmate’s voice is quiet, coming out in choppy rivets as his dated microphone picks up what it can.

“toji!?” you whisper scream, sitting up to turn your beside lamp on. the additional light helps illuminate your figure better, you notice his eyes perk up at the clearer sight of you.

“mmmh, happy to see you babydoll.” he grins, leaning closer to get a good look at you. your eyes are puffy with the promise of rest, giving you that extra bought of softness he loves so much.

“oh shit, were you sleeping? m’ sorry.”

he doesn’t sound sorry at all.

“nono i’m awake.” you reassure the older man, taking in the sight of him laid out on the narrow cot. your boyfriend had aged since the beginning of his sentence, though you figure that’s not out of the ordinary for someone serving time. “how’d you even get a phone?”

“s’ a secret.” he muses, clearly finding the situation amusing. “i get to talk to my baby though, isn’t that nice?” he states plainly, shifting to prop his head up with his hand.

“it is, actually.” you mumble apologetically, feeling bad at your initial lack of a greeting. “m’ happy you called me.”

you pause, choosing your next words carefully “don’t you have bunkmates?” you wonder, searching the background for any signs of other men in the dark cell. the promise of being ratted out by a cell mate was one that wouldn’t end well for either of you.

“nah, lawyers said i’m too dangerous to be staying in D-block with everyone.” he states boredly, shifting again to lie on his back with a grunt.

“wh— are you serious?” you whine, already mulling over the countless conversations you’ve had with him regarding his nasty fighting habit.

“pfttt, no?” the inmate chuckles, throwing his head back with a hearty laugh. “last guy in the cell got out on wednesday, ‘s just me in here till’ my sentence is up.”

he stills, looking you up and down quickly.

"fuck." he grumbles, you look real pretty right now."

you sigh in relief, ignoring the compliment to continue grilling him. “so you’ve been getting along with people?” you ask, skill skeptical.

“you know—hah- how i am.” he tells you, clearing his throat before continuing. the screen begins to wobble a little, blurring his figure for a moment. “when have i —fuck- ever been out of line, huh? ”

“i think you were pretty out of line when you went to fucking jail.” you tease, pausing to analyze his hurried breaths on the other line.

“toji? do you feel ok?” you ask, wishing you were there to check up on him.

“yeah—mmgh- why? his camera starts to pan up shakily, phone slipping from his hand. the last of his facade shatters as a pleased groan rings out in the tiny cell.

“fuck.” he whines, “fuck— oh my god. you’re gonna make me fucking cum.”

“show me.” you command, finally piecing everything together.

the older man flips the camera and brings it right up to his hard cock, stroking it from the base up with vigor.

his tip is an angry pink, weeping milky precum down his shaft to glaze his knuckles. the sounds coming from your phone are absolutely filthy, a hot mix of pants, groans and expletives .

“oh my god.” you giggle, propping your phone up to watch better. “is that all for me?” the dips and hills of his abs jolt as he laughs.

“all for you.” he pants, bucking his hips up every time his fist meets his tip.

“is this why you called me?” you tease, watching his cock bob back and forth in his hand. the older man stops to thumb his slit, massaging milky pre into the tip before starting up again. “you just wanted to get off? didn’t wanna talk to me or nothing?”

“no—hah. i mean—.” he groans, clearly too out of it to answer. “fuck. fuck i’m close.”

you squeeze your legs together to quell the ache between your thighs, content to just watch him enjoy himself.

sharing a room with 4 other people means little to no time alone, that much you knew from your visits. it wasn’t rare for him to pitch a tent during your supervised phone calls, squeezing his cock behind a glass barrier while you gushed about your day.

a hearty groan knocks your train of thought loose as ropes of cum stream down his knuckles and onto the sheets. you watch in awe as he milks his dick, slapping it onto his stomach for the added simulation.

you wait until his breaths even out to speak, watching him grab a towel from off camera to clean himself up.

“feel better?” you ask, so badly wishing you were there to kiss him in the midst of his afterglow.

“so much better.” he sighs, shifting to lay on his side again.

“they definitely heard you. i mean those rooms don’t have doors right?”

“of course they fucking have doors.” he grumbles, clearly embarrassed at the thought of getting caught dick-in-hand.

“did you..” he trails off, rubbing his eyes with a soft yawn.

“too tired.” you state plainly, shifting the focus from your pleasure to his.

“i don’t deserve you.” he mumbles, dark eyes barely open.

“course you do baby.” you whisper. “you wanna head to bed? i’m coming up on thursday to visit.”

“you are?” the excitement in his voice is adorable.

“mhm, might even bring you a charger for that piece of shit burner you swiped.”

the jab earns you a booming laugh, lulling you back to the precipice of sleep.

────────────────────────

tag list ! <3 🏷️

@honeybee54321 @m150-50up @kuryoomi @t4naiis @serendippindots @sillyalo @levixbby @powerrwa

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

Ok but imagine 42! Miles with a s/o who's literally the complete opposite of him in terms of aesthetic but she helps him when he's the prowler. Like nobody would expect the sweet, energetic, girl with the "Mabel pines" energy to be the gal in the chair for the prowler and making his weapons and at the same time being his girlfriend. They're a literal force to be reckon with.

Complete opposites but totally work

(I love this and so sorry it took so long but enjoy!)

Mabel Pines!Reader

You guys work very, very well together

I can't even describe it very well but it's like yin and yang

He was absolutely gobsmacked on how smart you actually could be

Because not mean, he thought of you as a sort of airhead for a while

But he actually found it quite cute or adorable on you

But he did find out very quickly that y'all have very, very different aesthetics

To be frank you look like a rainbow threw up on you

While Miles is all gloomy and dark over there

So safe to say you throw some glitter in him and force him to be colorful

He finds it hard sometimes to keep up with your energy

But it good for him

His mama absolutely LOVES you

She sees how much Miles loves you just due to the light you bring into his eyes

You can give this man anything and he will pretend to not like it but raise hell if you try and take it back

You guys proudly watch the news of worried women and men on TV talking about jobs you guys pulled and tryna catch you guys

Y'know those sassy guys we see in Tiktoks?

He's that sassy guy with you when you make him mad or annoyed

Knees facing the other way with his whole body while he side eyes you

But he can't resist you for very long

He actually was quite shocked when he found out you had a little dark side

He always saw you looking on the bright side of things

So you partaking in his Prowler activities, much less MAKING the shit for them, absolutely shocked him

He found it quite hot though I can't lie

You're absolutely right when you're completely different but work so well together

Even Uncle Aaron saw it

He uses you sometimes as a little diversion

A fake damsel in distress might I say

He never actually puts you in danger a you can very much so handle yourself but he's always lurking around the corner in these situations

You are an absolute monster at anything Miles needs

New gloves? Done

New mask? Done

Fucking Ray gun? Why didn't he ask sooner? Here, it's in your bag

You absolutely stick little stickers on his crap as well

You can't help yourself

But he absolutely loves it

You sit in the chair looking all pretty but can turn intimidating real quick as he's sitting on the arm chair

Y'know those scenes where the bad guy asks their "dumb/weird" henchman like

"I have no idea…how about we ask (Name)?"

Those type of scenes and you can come up with the best shit he didn't even think of

Absolutely soul mates

Anyway, enjoy this little scene I made:

Miles breathed heavily, leaning against the wall on the rooftop to the door to go back down to his home. He was dressed as the Prowler, breathing labored from a fight.

Miles tried to breathe the best he could, even succeeding for a moment before his eyes snapped open as he heard the shudder of a phone camera and a flash.

Miles' eyes widened, hand in front of him as the flash died and he saw you standing there, blank faces and camera held out in front of you.

Miles and you stared at one another for a moment, nothing to say at all.

"Is that carbon fiber?" You suddenly spoke up.

"...what?-" Miles blinked, barely able to process this before you almost jumped on him.

"Ooh! How did you make this?!" Miles couldn't even breathe and before he knew, his helmet was in your hands as you went on.

"This material is tough enough but you know I could make a much better one if-" you rambles on, an excitement to your voice Miles knew all to well as you flipped over the mask in your hands

"Wait– hold on." Miles held his arms out, effectively causing a pause in your rant as you stared back at him.

"Y'know who I am…right?" Miles asked, slowly and almost trying to be intimidating.

"Um…the Prowler?" You muttered, utterly confused as you tilted your head, holding the helmet to your chest.

"Yeah?!" Miles exclaimed, eyes wide and hands held out like he was trying to get a point across.

"Mhm. Is this like…a trick question, or…?" You asked, completely unbothered by it all as you looked down at the mask, examining it as you merely glanced up at him.

"No! Just- why are you so calm about this?" Miles asked, shocked as well.

"Well, it's not really shocking. You sorta have the backstory of a villain, anyway." You shrugged, staring dead at him.

"...seriously?"

"Well, kinda. Sorry, is this like a bad time for you?" You asked, still not handing over the mask as you held it over your head, almost trying to put it on.

"No, just, you can't tell anyone about this." Miles said, grabbing the mask to hold it in place and off your head, almost dangerously close to your face.

"I mean, I'm not? But-" you started and Miles almost rolled his eyes at your excited expression.

"I can help you!" You stated, biting your lip in excitement as you almost glowed from the glitter on you.

"Help…me?" Miles raised a brow.

"Yeah! Everyone thinks I'm dumb, but I have dirt on everyone. Everyone. And, not a lotta people notice I'm there so I can get you a lot of info, or like- routes and stuff. I'm also good with my hands."

You went on proudly, Miles looking between you and your hand which held his helmet.

It took a moment, Miles going over it all in his head.

He finally sighed.

Miles opened the door to the stairwell, gesturing inside as your eyes widened in shock before you actually smiled, hurrying inside quickly as you rambled on.

Miles followed after you, a seemingly annoyed expression on his face, but the dust of pink across his cheeks from your smile gave him away.

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

@mushystrawberries @sweetheartlizzie07 @itstooearly-its3am @Ihavetoexist @kaorussgf @samsketchezz @yas-v @lovelymiaablogss @sussybaka10 @shisuishoe @sairavity @moonlight-rosevine @spectr3inl0ve @najiiix @popeheywardssecretgf @onginlove @sylisan @onginlove

[after-witch]

A Morning After [Yandere Uvogin x Reader]

Title: A Morning After [Yandere Uvogin x Reader]

Synopsis: You didn't think about what you and your newly found soulmate Uvogin might do next. Follow up to Late Night Break In.

word count: 2040

notes: yandere, soul mate au

You hadn’t thought about what might come next.

But here you are, sitting in your bedroom while your tall, unusual soulmate rests his chin on his hand, seeming to ponder the events more quietly than you might expect from someone with his appearance.

“So uh,” you interrupt, and he turns to look at you. “What do we… do now?”

Your question seems to surprise him.

“Do?” You can make how his features twisting a little in the night-time light through your window. “Huh, I didn’t really think about that.” The words come sighing out. He’s just as lost as you, which is both a comfort and a worry.

Your fingers grip at your comforter--there’s a brief, stupid flash of a thought about the fact that it was brand name, purchased without a payment plan, and you’d even saved up enough to have it dry-cleaned--and twist at the fabric. 

“Well,” you begin, choosing your words carefully. “Are you staying the night? Or um, staying here?” The questions come tumbling out, now that your mind has shaken off the shock of his meeting. “Am I staying here? Are we staying here?” You blink rapidly. “Am I still going into work? Are you going to pay my bills? Do you have bills, wherever you live? Do you have enough room for my things, if I’m not staying? Is there a way I could stay?” You think about what that might mean, living here while your soul mate pops in secretly. But you had a gut feeling that your soul mate was not some ordinary person, and another thought crept in, slower and more serious. “I mean… could I even stay here? Is someone going to come after me or something like that?”

Uvogin regards your incessant barrage of questions with a simple quirk of his eyebrow, and then a quirk of his head, and then a quirk of his mouth. Finally, he simply chuckles and shakes his head.

“You’re something, all right.”

Your lips curl up a little.

“Excuse me?”

He hums and splays his hands out. 

“I just said--you’re something.”

You pull the comforter up higher and wrinkle your nose at him. 

“Well, don’t make that sound like a bad thing.”

He grins again--you get the feeling, innate, that he can’t quite help it--and puts his hands up in surrender.

“Didn’t mean anything bad by it. I just haven’t met someone like you before.” He looks up at the ceiling, his hair shifting with the movement. “But I guess most people who meet me aren’t talking about bills and houses.”

You should ask something like: What does that mean? Why don’t people talk about casual things to you? Who are you, anyway? 

But in your chest you feel something… warm and bitter. Like a twinge of sympathy, maybe. Is that your soul mate bond reacting or something else? 

You sigh. Your world suddenly seems both very small and big at the same time, alternating on some wild axis and you don’t know where it will stop.

“Look,” you say, gathering your thoughts. “I… I won’t fight you, if you don’t want me to stay here. I get the impression that you’re not a settling-down-in-one-place type of person.” He snorts, and you continue. “But I really mean it when I say I want my things.” 

You feel that pinching in your chest again, and wonder if he feels it, too. “You don’t know how much it took me to get all this. Not just money-wise, but taking the time to research things.” You gesture around your bedroom. “How to tell quality over quantity. How to take care of nice things.” 

Your fingers tighten and loose on the comforter again and again.

I”m not rich and I don’t have a lot but… it feels nice to pretend sometimes. You know?”

There are a few moments where he simply looks at you

“Yeah,” he tells you, a little softly. “I get it.” 

He sighs, this time a long, stretched out thing. And when he speaks next, he seems to have made some sort of decision.

“Well. For now, I’ll stay the night. It’s late. We can figure out the rest in the morning, can’t we?”

You nod. It really would be more sensible to think on things and approach this with a clear head, although you wonder just how much your opinion mattered in the end here. 

But then Uvogin starts to shift as if he’s going to lay down and the noise you make is something in between a squawk and a shout.

“Wait! Wait!”

He freezes.

“There--there isn’t room on the bed for both of us. The weight limit is probably already being stretched, I--”

He shrugs, a big, casual gesture. You think for a moment that he’ll insist, which is something you aren’t comfortable with for more ways than one, but he merely stands up. “No problem. I can sleep on the floor.”

Pinch, pinch, twist goes your chest. What is this feeling, anyway? 

“I’ll get some blankets,” you offer, the words coming out slow. You feel both like a terrible host and a victim tonight in the same measure, and you’re not sure which wins out.

You slowly peel your comforter aside and scurry off, feeling his eyes following you all the while. But it doesn’t feel entirely creepy. There’s an intimacy to it--and is this how it feels, to be wanted by your soul mate? Is this how your coworkers feel? Your friends, your family? Those people on TV who gush about finally finding “the one”? 

As you return with a pile of carefully folded blankets in your arms, you suddenly can’t blame them, for worrying about you missing out. It feels… nice. Worrisome, sure, considering the circumstances. But you can’t deny that nice warm pull in your chest, even as your logical mind worries about other things. 

He watches quietly while you unfold and unfurl the blankets, creating a makeshift bed on the floor. You grab a few extra pillows from your closet and toss them down, cringing a little--they were really nice cases, too, a good thread count. But there was nothing to be done about that. When you’re finished making the floor bed as comfortable as it can possibly be, you glance at him, and he stares down at the creation you’ve made which is… clearly far too small for his frame.

You cough and scurry back to the linen closet and return with more blankets. How big must his bed be, wherever he slept normally? Did he have somewhere to sleep normally? Too many questions, and you wonder if you’ll ever get an answer. 

When you’re truly finished making the bed, you glance up at your soulmate, who is sporting a smile on his lips. You wait for him to make some kind of snarky remark, but he says nothing. And… you, you like that. He knows how to tease you, sure, but he apparently knows when to keep it back as well. 

Somehow this nice little thought carries you through the process of crawling back into bed, and waiting for him to get settled into the makeshift blanket-bed on the floor. 

In the morning, you two will have to talk things through. Maybe in the morning, he’ll be more forthcoming with answers to your questions. Or maybe you will have a clearer head and put your foot down on leaving… or a clearer head and realize that doing such a thing would be truly pointless.

Maybe you can ask him more about how he found you, or ask him if he ever felt lonely or if his friends--did he have friends?--wanted him to find a soulmate like yours so readily did. 

Maybe in the morning you’ll ask him how much money he makes, because you’ll have to come up with a budget. He’s so much taller than you, more muscular, he probably eats a ton. Where will the money for that come from? Will you even be able to store that much food in your apartment? Maybe you’ll have to get a new one, if he doesn’t take you somewhere. Maybe he makes enough for an upgrade. Or maybe not. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe. 

Maybe it will all make sense in the morning.

That is… if you can fall asleep.

You’re tossing and turning, and it’s not surprising, but it definitely doesn’t help matters. You land somewhere in between on the next toss, staying flat on your back and staring up at your bare white ceiling.

“Uvogin?” You ask, voice soft in the darkness. 

There’s no answer at first. He might be asleep. You should just go back to bed.

But then there’s a noise, low but unmistakable, from the floor. 

“Hmm?” 

You choose your words as carefully as you can.

“I don’t mean to be negative, really, but um. I don’t have the money to buy groceries for 2 people and toiletries for 2 people and a bed for another person--where would it even go?--and I don’t know if I can afford to move--”

You hear the blankets on the floor rustling, and see his figure moving in the dark. He doesn’t stand up, but merely gets up on his knees and looms over the bed. There’s a moment where your heart thuds hard (he’s so close to you) but all he does is put a finger to your lips. 

Then he shows a cocky grin, white teeth in the dark. 

“Listen. You think too much. Don’t worry your pretty head about stupid things like money. Who cares about that?” 

You bristle, and you’re ready to argue but he taps his finger on your lips again.

“It’s not the type of thing you gotta worry about when you’re my soulmate.” You see him rub his nose, considering. “

“Got it?”

He’s waiting for an answer.

“Got it,” you murmur.

He nods and gets back down, taking his position back on the makeshift floor bed.

And you? You stare back up at the ceiling, which until perhaps an hour ago had been nothing more than the white space you were vaguely considering jazzing up with some fake crown molding, like the kind you saw in magazines. 

You wonder if Uvogin was the type of person who liked fake crown molding. Or hated it. Or did he care at all? Maybe he had no opinion on home decor, which in your estimation, was practically offensive. Did soulmates like all the same things you did? Or did they--

“Don’t think so much,” his voice interrupts. “It’s like I can hear you thinking in the dark.”

Your lips twist together, frowning.

“I--”

“Go to sleep” he says, a little softer. “We want to go at this with a clear head tomorrow, right?”

It’s your turn to lean up in bed, though you don’t go as far as getting off it. Instead you look down at him, and it’s no surprise to see him staring at you.

“That’s just what I was thinking earlier-- a clear head.”

He nods.

“Yeah, I know.” 

You swallow hard, and your fingers go back to twisting the comforter. 

“Can you… read my mind?”

He snorts and lets out a chuckle. 

“Don’t be stupid.” For some reason, you don’t take offense. It’s the way he says it, maybe. He taps his chest.

The twinge, the pinch, the pull. 

“Ah,” you say, and rest your head back down on the pillow. This time, you turn so that you’re on your side, facing the interior of your bedroom and the spot where Uvogin was set up to sleep. Although he wasn’t doing it anymore than you were at the moment, obviously.

He looks at you for a few more moments, then closes his eyes.

“Go to bed.”

“Okay,” you murmur, closing your eyes. This time, you begin to feel the tug and pull of sleep, shutting down your conscious thought and leaving you drifting with threads that went nowhere. 

Maybe things would truly be clearer for the both of you in the morning. 

[imaginesmai]

Hewn City, where nightmares come true

Maybe this is a bit long and excesive? Maybe, but we love good angst, hurt and comfort. Thank you @marscardigan for your request! Feel free to send anything else. This is places inside the baker!reader universe, but it's independent. You can find other parts here.

Plot: your anonymity makes you a great choice for Rhysand's mission, even if Azriel doesn't agree. But you'll do anything to discover more of Azriel's life, even the worst part. So you decided to take that trip to Hewn City - where nightmares do come true.

Warnings: males being a lil creepy with their comments, Keir, violence.

“Az” you sighed for the third time that afternoon, staring at your stubborn mate. “It’s no big deal. Feyre has done it, Nesta has done it. Why can’t I?”

“They have done it because they have powers. They…” his words died when you raised a brow and dared him to tell you that they could and were different. More capable. “It’s not even about them, don’t change the topic. It’s about us. I don’t want you to do it”

“So, it’s fine when you leave for weeks to the mountains with a target on your back but I can’t accept one dance where you and your brothers will be watching?” you asked, and he finally looked away.

Azriel and you had been arguing about the same topic for two days in a row. Since Rhysand, who you had become fond of in the last years, asked you for a favor. He had been hoping you would come with them to Hewn City and dance with some males while they snooped around. You didn’t even have to carry weapons with you, since you would be introduced as part of their family.

It wasn’t dangerous or risky. It was a favor from your friend because Hew City didn’t know you. An unfamiliar face they would be too preoccupied studying to notice Feyre, Nesta and Mor sneaking into their studies. They would play the hard part. You just had to dance.

And Azriel was having a tantrum about it.

“The fact that you can’t even answer that question is enough. I’m going. And you can’t decide what I do and don’t”

“I can talk Rhysand out of it” he tried, not looking at you.

“Oh, like you haven’t tried that already”

You decided the conversation was finished and turned around to finish decorating the trail of cookies. Azriel was leaning against the counter, his usual place to watch you work in silent adoration. The storm in his eyes died down a little at the familiarity of your movements, at the comfort of the bakery.

Yes, he was mad. Mad at Rhysand because he hadn’t asked him first, mad at himself for considering he was your owner and needed to be asked for permission for you to do something. Mad at you because you couldn’t see how tight his heart became at the thought of you in someone else’s arms, dancing in a room full of vipers.

Half of the citizens of that rotten place had been tortured by Azriel at some point, and the other half had been gently tortured. He trusted Rhysand’s glamour to hide your bonded scent, but his rebel heart seemed to think otherwise.

For a while, he watched you work in silence, hands working your own particular magic with common ingredients. The fire eventually left his soul and he felt guilty enough to leave his spot. When you set the last trail in the oven, he took advantage of the vulnerable position and wrapped himself around you.

His wings created a small cocoon for the two of you, light barely seeping through the thick membrane.

“I’m sorry for being an overbearing mate” he apologized against your earlobe, letting his warm breath make you squirm. “You’re amazing and brave and you can handle everything you want, but I worry because I love you”

“And I’m also too smart and beautiful for your own good” you scoffed when one of his hands sneaked beneath your apron. “We’re gonna burn those cookies”

“Won’t the only thing burning for you tonight”

You bursted in a loud laugh and the rest of his anger faded away, giving up space for the usual love and adoration for you. In his arms, he could hear your heartbeat, smell the faint remains of vanilla from the previous muffins and your shampoo.

Azriel pushed you farther into his arms, and you didn’t complain. One of his arms was settled on your waist, under your apron but with no further intentions. The other one crossed your chest, and you gripped his forearm between your hands.

He was all hard muscles and soft skin. Even under his usual leathers, you could feel the familiar outlines of his arm. You looked up from his chest and saved the height different when you locked your eyes with him. From upside down, he was just as beautiful as ever.

His lips curved into an apologetic smile, although you were certain it wouldn’t be the last time you heard from it. Azriel was just a little less stubborn than you.

“I forgive you on one condition. You don’t bring it up to Rhys anymore. He already feels bad about it, you don’t have to remind him” you gently reprimanded him. “If he could, he would have searched for other solution. And I’m happy to help”

“You’re happy here, but down there it’s horrifying. And Rhysand and Hewn City can fuck – “

“Besides, I like doing things with you. From your other life”

Azriel’s life as the shadowsinger, as the spymaster, was still a bit hidden to you. You had gotten him to open up little by little, and he had shared some details that had you almost regretting your decision. But it was true that, besides doing Rhysand a favor, you wanted to do it with Azriel. Watch him work and be that tough male everyone feared.

That point made him roll his eyes and drop the matter with a brief kiss to your nose. He captured it between his teeth and playfully bit you, which earned him a swift elbow to his groin. Azriel teared apart just in time for the next customer to arrive.

With a sharp look that promised worst thing than an elbow, you left him in charge of the cookies and went to the front door.

-

Azriel hadn’t been allowed to see you before he big night. He had tried, but had received an arguable reason – that he would leave his smell all over you. As if he was a teen with hormone problems that couldn’t control himself. He was still fuming about it as he waited in silence by the throne, still pouting but intimidating.

His shadows were scattered all over the room, and he was purposefully ignoring Cassian’s warning glances. The last thing he could do to show his discomfort was terrorize a little their guests.

Rhysand had been introducing you in the dinner hall, where he hadn’t been allowed in. For centuries, the rules had kept Illyrian out of the finest and most elegant parts of the city, and it was one of the few rules he liked. He avoided pointless and tedious conversations waiting in the throne room.

“I bet Rhys he would wear line for a week you won’t last more than five dances” Cassian muttered under his breath, not looking away from the early guests. “Mor placed it at two”

“Glad my discomfort brings you joy, Cassian” he replied. “I plan to endure the whole night, if only for your troubles. What did Rhys bet?”

“Sex ban for a week”

Azriel rolled his eyes and finished the conversation. He was in for a long night, and he would try to endure it for you. Because you had looked so excited to be part of the plot, so bright and happy, he would never smudge that out.

The remains of your smile warmed his heart, and he relaxed a bit. You had been sitting right by his side as Rhysand went over the last details the previous night, listening to him like a hawk. Where you needed to dance, opposite from the entrance. Who you needed to charm or avoid, what you needed to act like.

He hated all of that, but he couldn’t deny that it made you happy. And whatever made you happy was worthy. The part he couldn’t stand was his absence during the grand dinner, during your introduction. It would raise many suspicions since Azriel never accompanied Rhysand there, therefore he had to wait at his usual spot.

Rotten on the spot with unusual nerves and doubts, he listened with trepidation the incoming steps.

“Don’t make me lose the bet. You don’t want to see me in a sex ban. Or Nesta” his brother announced quickly before the big doors opened.

“Shut up” Azriel hissed.

“A fair warning”

Rhysand walked in with cold indifference, Feyre walking by his side like the queen she was. His high-lord deemed worth the risk shoot him a warning glance, and Azriel thanked him, because it half-prepared him.

You walked right behind them, talking softly with Mor, and you were stunning. Beautiful. Bright. Radiant beyond the stars.

Azriel found the simplicity of your bakery uniform charming and perfect. The constant stains on your clothes, the sunny dresses you wore for your dates. Even training clothes made him stare longingly.

The dress you were wearing was long and dark, hugging all your curves and letting your left leg at plain sight. The cleavage lowered down to your waist, so low he could see the burnt scar you had gotten when you started your bakery. It showed your shoulders, your arms covered by a transparent, thin sheet of stars and bright dots. Azriel was glad he got a moment to digest the sight before seeing your exposed back.

You were so beautiful he stopped breathing, that he lowered his guard for the first time in that place. Someone could have tried to assassinate him from the front and he wouldn’t have seen them coming. Not when you were looking like a dream come true.

Rhysand was by his side before he could tear his eyes away from you, Feyre on his right.

“You may dance and drink and do whatever you like tonight” Rhysand motioned with a vague hand around. “But kneel first at your majesties”

“Lower” Cassian roared when only their heads lowered.

They all fell to their knees, as you and Mor watched by the side. While all their eyes were fixed on the ground, you looked at Azriel for the first time. He tugged frantically on the bond, proving Cassian wrong and behaving exactly like a hormonal teenager. You pulled back with a small smile – so small, so hesitant, that Azriel frowned.

It was different from the radiant one you had gifted him so many times during the last days.

He didn’t have to bother looking at Rhysand to have him speaking mind to mind.

“It’s her first time, she’s just nervous” his voice broke through the mental barriers, wary and full of concern. Azriel forced himself to look away from you, for your safety and his.

“What happened?”

“Nothing”

Rhysand knew him well enough to know he didn’t believe his answer, so he was met with flash of images of the previous dinner. How you had been introduced under predatory eyes, how your smile had died down a bit at the darkness and the coldness in their stares. Azriel’s whole body became alert as he watched through Rhysand’s eyes the dinner, no one daring to come close to you.

It would be different now, he knew, so he steeled his nerves as the first fae rose his head. 

They rose up one by one, and when Rhysand just kept mumbling something in Feyre’s ears, they deemed safe to start moving. Music started playing and males started looking for the company of women. Azriel’s neck vein pulsed painfully when a lesser fae walked up to you and Mor, asking for your hand.

From up there, he could smell your hesitance. You would follow the plan, as Mor stepped out with a small vow, Nesta nowhere in side. Feyre would leave shortly too, and you would only have to stay there until they came back. But Azriel had to remind himself to breath when you were taken to the dance floor by another male.

He had to give it to the first one – he was respectful enough to keep his hands your waist and not lower them. Azriel felt his power roaring inside him the whole time, and he couldn’t help but stain his ears to listen to the conversation.

Through the dances you granted, he did that, ignoring the rest of the world and looking without seeing through the room.

You’re beautiful, how is it we haven’t seen you around earlier?

I have a son, he has lands and power. Would you like to know him?

I was hoping to catch you all night. What is such a sweet flower like you doing here?

You smell nice, unbonded

Rumors say you are an unmarried female. Such a pity

The comments grew more unfortunate the longer the night went. Rhysand power was gently holding him in place, reminding him the importance of giving the girls time. The High lord was looking too much at you, for his sake, so they wouldn’t notice Azriel acting like a boiling bull next to him.

And that started to draw unwanted attention, the notice of his High Lord staring at a woman. You were nothing like the female that had walked hours ago into the ballroom. Once you had seen what Hewn City was, what your mate had to work with, you were withering away – and Azriel noticed.

Azriel was seeing every drop of your smile, every muscle you tensed. Blood dripped to the ground behind him from how hard he was clenching his fists. His shadows curled in the edges of the room impatient, ready to attack. He broke every bet they had and then the last male walked up to you.

“May I have this dance?” Keir asked as you were dropped by your last companion. “You are hard to catch, my dear”

You brushed off the last feeling of discomfort from hands on you, all night, and tried to think quick. He had been one of the few males Rhysand had warned you to stay away from, but he had scared off any other options. And your friends weren’t back yet.

“I was hoping for a break” you tried to seem confident. “Sit this one out”

“Pretty things like you shouldn’t be sitting”

You bit your inner cheek, regretting the help you had offered. You had been regretting since you had stepped in the hall, and you had met Azriel’s eyes. The way they shone with worry and concern, the desperate tug on the bond. He had warned you and you felt foolish, because you thought you could handle it.

There were reasons in fate why you worked in a quiet bakery and he spent his life in dungeons.

“Shouldn’t have dance with every male in this room if you’re gonna get scared now” he chuckled, all void and dark. It made the hairs of your arms raise. “I won’t bite. Not too hard”

Apparently out of options, you accepted his hand and kept a straight face when he pulled you closer. If you were honest, you were too close to crying. Your feet hurt, your heart was pounding way too loudly against your chest and you had been touched way too many times. Every inch of your body felt dirty and wrong, and Keir certainly had big hands.

You had avoided Azriel’s eyes all night. You knew Rhysand was looking out for you, maybe to draw attention away from your mate. But that had made more males, the worst type it seemed, to become interested in you.

Keir was the last of a long list you had endured so far. He shamelessly inhaled when he pulled you closer, his nose brushing the space between your shoulder and neck. You convinced yourself it was his nose, not his lips, that traced your pulse point.

“You smell divine. So sweet” he commented, keeping you close to his body. “Have you been taken yet, dear? Has a male unfiled you?”

“That’s not a question I want to answer” you complained. You weren’t sounding confident at all, not with his hand pressing against your waist. It sounded more like another question itself.

“Oh, how I will like to see this city defile you. A little, sweet thing. Didn’t your mother warn you about wolves and rabbits?”

You kept quiet at his words, looking down at your moving feet. That way, he couldn’t see the way your expression broke. You noticed your lip quivering, your body trying to become smaller in his grasp. Just a dance, you reminded yourself. The heat of Azriel’s eyes was still present on your back, Rhysand glamour tight around you.

Keir’s shoes became blurry when your vision filled with tears. So desperately, you wanted to be home, with Azriel. You wanted Rhysand to never need you again, to have Keir moved to another continent along with the rest of that doomed city.

“I wonder if you’ll be as quiet in bed. How much will your father make me pay for you? Maybe we can arrange things for this week” Keir suddenly gripped the edge of your chin and made you look up, with a serious look on his cruel face. “Are you fertile, dear?”

The way he was speaking about you, his fingers gripping your face, was enough to make the first tear roll down. The male actually looked surprised at the sight, but once it had fallen, you couldn’t control yourself.

It could have been like that, you realized, if you hadn’t found Velaris. If Az wasn’t your mate, instead a male like Keir or someone worse. Your eyes searched desperately for him, without need to ask for help.

Azriel had reminded you many times that only one look and he would be right beside you, court matters dammed. He had made you say it out loud multiple times, had gotten you a small bargain tattoo on the back of your ankle. His eyes were already dark and troubled when you met them, his body ready.

He winnowed between shadows before anyone noticed, and then those same shadows were besides you. Keir’s fingers were ripped from you with a sickening crack, and you only saw Azriel’s fighting leathers. His rough hands tucking your face farther into his body, his shadows crawling up to your knees and calves.

They were cool against your sweaty skin, Azriel a calming and safe presence. Your face scrunched in a silent cry as you let your pent-up emotions consume you. You hugged him tight, not looking at the source of the screams.

“Scum” Azriel scoffed at the male in the ground, shooting Rhysand a warning glance.

“This is over. Forever”

“Azriel. They will know”

“Fuck you”

Rhysand could only witness in tense silence as Keir’s body tried to fight off Azriel’s shadows. Always so gentle around your body, they wrecked the male on the ground. They burnt his arms and snapped his fingers, squeezed his throat until his eyes budged. Azriel watched with murderous indifference as he held you trembling.

That was what he had wanted to tell you, to warn you about. You were capable of everything, you were brave and amazing. But that city was filled with trash and they could suck the life out of anyone.

“I want to go home” you whispered against his chest, your knees trembling.

“You have always been stupid, Keir, but you can always surprise me” Azriel growled, so primitive and feral that the room fell quiet. “Let’s see if you can quiet your screams tomorrow”

Feyre running out of one of the many doors was the last thing Azriel saw before winnowing you both away from Hewn City. He let his shadows hide you, but used his wings for good measure of protection.

In a few seconds, you were back in your apartment in Velaris, above your bakery, the sweet scent of summer nights filling the space. It no longer smelt like death and expensive perfume, like rotten flesh and arrogance. Azriel didn’t let you go as you squeezed his middle with a surprising force.

He knew what you needed without explanation. Carefully, he unlaced the dress on your back, his hands brushing any inch of skin those males had touched. Each trembling sigh, each tear he smelt on you, made him physically hurt to go back and kill them all. Pull at their limbs and hang them from their insides.

Rhysand would be hearing for him for a while, everyone in his family would. He squeezed his eyes shut as he listened to your whimpers, that stabbed into his heart like sharped knives. Azriel ripped the sleeves off your dress and could have burned it with the sheer force of his hate.

When you were finally standing with just your underwear, he allowed himself a moment of reassuring. Since the moment he had met your eyes, he was done for. The destiny of the world could have been in risk that he would have had still acted.

His hands were shaking too when he pulled your face away from his chest, cupping your cheeks. They were wet with tears, Keir’s fingers marked on your chin. He watched those beautiful eyes, that had shone at the idea of working with him, carry the burden of that night.

“I’m sorry” you whispered brokenly, your breath speeding up again. “I’m sorry I messed it up”

“You did perfect, darling. You did so good. So good” he assured you with passion, bringing your face closer to him until you couldn’t avoid his burning gaze. “They got out and you did perfect, but you won’t have to do it never again. I promise, Y/N, never”

You cried in his hands, and Azriel broke at the sight. What type of mate allowed their partner to go through that? To have strangers’ hands on them for hours? He hated himself a little bit more for that, but tried to hide it as he kissed your forehead.

He tangled his fingers between your locks as his lips lowered down your face. To your closed eyelids and wrinkles. Azriel kissed every tear, your nose, the edges of your pointed ears. He let his lips linger at the bruises on your chin, and found comfort at having Keir paying for them next morning.

Azriel ended up picking you between his arms, and carrying you to your room. It still held the remains of your excitement – scattered clothes close to the wardrobe, make-up products opened and half-used. He pointedly ignored them as he carefully dropped you in bed. Your arms didn’t unhook from his shoulders, and he didn’t complain.

“I hate them so much” he admitted in a whisper, close to your ear. “I hate them”

He had hated them since he was a child, had wanted to keep them away from you. He considered if moving to another continent with you was far enough, or if he would be forced eventually to kill them for breathing the same air. Those decisions would have to wait until the next morning.

Still on his leather clothes, Azriel let you lay on his chest and draped the sheet over your bodies. He ignored Rhysand’s talons against his mental shields, only hug you closer. He listened to every shaky breath of yours, caressed away with his thumb the last tears you shared.

“I’m sorry I doubted you” you said eventually, almost when Azriel thought you were asleep. Raising your head from his chest, you met his eyes. “You were right. I’m sorry”

“I wish I had been wrong. I… sometimes I wish it was different. That I worked in the Archives or owned a coffeeshop” Azriel talked just as quietly. “Then I could have you with me always. I hate my job, but I love my court. I love Velaris and I want it to be a safe place, so I gotta endure those things”

“I wish that was different too”

It was foolish to wish on things that couldn’t happen. Azriel would die before letting you close to that part of his life again. He wasn’t done by far with Hewn City or his own brothers, but that night he only held your naked body close. Every now and then, he would recall a certain moment of the night and remember the exact point a stranger’s hand had touched – Azriel would caress that same spot, feeling you hug him tighter.

Neither of you slept that night, and you didn’t open the bakery the next day. It took Azriel two days to be able to leave your presence without feeling the need to rip Rhysand’s head off his shoulder, five baths to erase the memories of those hands. Keir rotted in a cell, accompanied only by Azriel’s shadows, in the meantime.

Three days later, when Azriel came back to Hewn City after leaving you in the bakery, Keir couldn’t keep quiet.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Let me know if you want me to do an Azriel taglist!

Azriel taglist:

@boygeniuses10 , @tothestarsandwhateverend , @starsinyourseyes , @bakananya

[sunandsstars]

YAWNETU

CHAPTER 4

Jake x Neytiri x Na’vi!Reader

Summary: One other mate was enough, but two? Unneeded. ___ was the outcast, the unwanted woman. Jake and Neytiri wouldn’t ever see her..right? Warnings: Pregnancy, Angst, Insinuating depression, Mentions of death, Wounds Word count: 2.9k

A/N: Here it is guys! I’m loving the support for the series and rly enjoy reading what you send into my asks. Keep them coming!

Taglist: @itsyoboysparkel @dumb-fawkin-bitch @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @fanboyluvr @mooniequeen @berrybluez @bajadotcom @alwaysinwritersblock @pandoragalora @perfectprofessorloverapricot @lvrcpid @answer-the-sirens @phantomalex14 @neteyamforlife @bat1212 @sadforeversblog @ducks118 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @1800imgay @soushswag @honeybxes @lola-bunn1 @alldaysdreamers @doggodorime @theesexystallion @scarlettwch @annamarieisbae @wallpaintt @zatarias-pandora @daoyus @ambria @simp-erformarvelwomen @simpliheavenli @tojidilfs @automaticwizardnerd @lexasaurs634 @symptoms-of-moonlight @avtprint @deviismynamewritingismygame @sunrays404 @tsireyassgurl @xx-kaitlyn-trixx-xx @that-one-daydreamer @yeosxxx @noname2246 @ok-boke @rubyrubyruuu @diosmilkymommers @annaleesworld @jiminsthickthighs @holysaladapricothero @peaches-peach-peach @enochi @thispussyshouldcomew @ihonestlydontknowwhattonamethis @kirisimpster @pompompomegranate @stevebuckysdoll

The months went by quick, too quick. Every day was the same for ___, wake up early, do her chores, eat and go to bed. It was a cycle that was never ending and the days started to drag.

Especially since she became swollen with her baby.

The day she found out was one that brought her happiness for the first time in what felt like forever. Mo’at noticed a change, she got tired quicker, her cravings changed her appetite in food and she was more emotional.

“Ma ‘ite, you are with child” the elder grinned, hand on her stomach and pressing down to feel the tiny bump in her skin. ___’s eyes welled up with tears, a smile crawling it’s way onto her face as she giggled and grabbed her mother in laws hand. “The great mother shines upon you, sweet one”

Immediately the woman had to tell her mates, but she hesitated. They have been cruel to her since that day under the tree of souls, the harsh words and hands never stopping their ministrations. It became too much for her and often the Na’vi sought comfort in the woods, where she met Norm and Spider.

The child was a home away from home, her comfort during dark days. Norm often let her have days alone together where she would take the toddler to find fruit, swim in the nearby lakes or show him the beauty of his home. He was her light and she vowed to take care of him. In some ways they were the same, abandoned and alone.

When ___ did end up letting Neytiri and Jake know of her condition, they glowered at her and the female warrior had to step out of their home. Her hormones were often full of anger, taking out her voice on anyone who dared cross her and the healer was often the backend of it. But for Jake’s sake she stepped out for some air.

“We can get rid of it” they were words that were most unexpected, the voice harsh and yellow eyes glared into her own watering ones. Jake and his wife did not want a child from her, they did not need one, he had one on the way and another is one that he just can not and will not take care of. “Mo’at should have something to abort it, go to her”

She’s never stuck up for herself against them, not after the first time. Fear kept her on her knees and she never once talked back. But she had to this time, the words almost forcing themselves out of her.

“No”

“No?” Jake stepped up to her and raised a brow when she didn’t back down.

“No. I will not” her English was heavily accented but was understandable, she brought her hands to her belly as if to protect the growing life from the incoming punches, not wanting her baby to be subjected to the same abuse.

“If you grow that thing we will have nothing to do with it” Jake turned and walked out. His point was made and his statement was clear. They were not her mates and had no custody over her child. ___ held her hands over her mouth as she whimpered quietly, the pain in her heart grew every day and the stress of her incoming pregnancy weighed her down.

They did not celebrate or announce her pregnancy to the clan.

Mo’at was confused, Jake was most happy to shout it out to the whole moon of his future child with Neytiri, why is he not doing the same with ___? Every time she tried to ask the clan leader he seemed to dodge away from her, avoiding any chance to talk. She will get to him for Eywa’s sake.

But if he and her daughter will not speak, she will go to their sweet mate. The Tsahìk found her by one of the rivers near Hellsgate, a small human boy situated on her lap as she spoke to him in both English and Na’vi, pointing at the fish swimming by their feet. Mo’at smiled at them, keeping her steps silent, she has heard of the rowdy boy living amongst the scientists, but has yet to introduce herself to him.

She made a small chirp as to alert them and watched as ___ moved her head back to see who it was and when she saw, her eyes lit up. “Ma Sa’nok, come” she beckoned the woman over and patted the spot next to her. Spider watched as the other lady sat down next to them and took notice of the many beads on her, reaching a tiny hand out to touch one that dangled by her side.

Mo’at chuckled at the child, silently asking ___ if she can pick him up. Once she got the go ahead the elder held him as if he was any other Omaticayan baby, letting him explore the garments she wore. “I thought you would be here, but I did not anticipate another”

“He is Spider, ma sa’nok. One of the children the humans look after” ___ chuckled as the toddler put a bead in his mouth, shooting the women a giggle when they cooed at him. “He is sweet, yes?”

Mo’at could not help but agree, nodding her head as she took one of her hands and placed it against her daughters stomach, right where the tiny bump was. “It has not been announced. Lumpe?” she gave ___ a critiqued look as she awaited an answer.

The woman sighed and watched the fish in the water swirling between her feet, “we have decided to keep it private, for my sake. You know I dislike being in the spotlight like that” she lied and it was obvious. ___ winced as the elder reached up to pinch the tip of her ear.

“You cannot lie to a Tsahìk, we see all” Mo’at glanced out into the forest, watching as the leaves swayed in the breeze and the insects crawl on the trunks of the trees. “I ask again. Why?”

“If you see all, then surely you must know” her ear was pinched again. Yellow eyes connected and ___ sighed, she was afraid to tell her mother in law the truth, afraid that once she did she would be deemed a liar and outcasted by her too. “They did not want too…they do not see my baby as theirs. They do not see me as theirs…” she whispered finally, deciding to let it out into the open.

“I knew it. The bruises, the way they never look at you, they do not care for you. And this? This is them failing to see” the Tsahìk growled but quieted down when the boy in her arms shifted, looking up at her with wide eyes. She patted his head and turned back to ___ who quickly wiped her eyes. “I will speak to-“

“Kehe. I do not want this getting out of hand”

“You need help ma ‘ite” but the woman was insistent, begging Mo’at to let her sort it out on her own. With this baby they will eventually see reason.

They both hoped what she said would be true.

“What did I say?!” Neytiri shouted at the other woman, hissing in her direction and pointing to the basket of beads “you do not touch those! You will NEVER touch those!”. The beads in question belonged to Sylwanin, her dead sister. ___ thought she could just look through them and find a bead for her baby, she knew it was what her old friend would have allowed and have been honoured by.

“She was my friend…” the woman whispered, ears down, hands placed on her swollen belly, rubbing soothingly as to hopefully calm the movement. Na’vi babies grow fast and already Neytiri was nearing the end of her pregnancy with only less than a month left. Not long after ___ would give birth to hers, but for now they continue to turn and kick, responding to their mama’s words and touches.

“She WAS your friend! Not now! Not any more! But she was and will be my sister! Even after death! You have no one, not anymore” Neytiri picked up the basket and placed it on the far end of their home, by their hammock and away from ___’s. Ever since Mo’at found of her conditions, she made sure a suitable bed was given for her to sleep in, a floor was no place for a budding mother.

___ softly cried, her emotions getting out of hand, she picked one hand off of her stomach and wiped her dropping tears. Sylwanin was like a sister to her too, she deserved to have something on her in her memory. Like the bracelet that was on her wrist, the one that they made together as children.

It was as if the warrior could read her mind because she stalked up to the woman and grabbed her arm, eying the beaded string wrapping around the appendage. Neytiri wasted no time and grabbed it as hard as she could, pulling it and watching as the tiny bits of stone clattered around the floor, dropping the twine that weaved through them. “She is not yours to honour! How can you after all that happened?!”

___ cried harder, soft sounds turning into loud sobs as she fell to her knees and tried to pick up the pieces of what was left. “No! Why?! Why must you do this?!” her words earned her a shove to her back from a foot pushing onto her chest.

Neytiri screamed at her “YOU KNOW WHY! You do not deserve happiness! Do not deserve that thing inside you!” having enough, the tsakarem left, climbing down the tree with her fathers bow, going to hunt to cool herself down. If she stayed she did not know what other damage she will do towards the woman.

“Sylwanin, I am sorry” the woman stayed curled up on the floor weeping, looking at one of the beads on the floor in front of her and taking it into her hand, holding it close to her heart. She could not deal with this pain in her heart any more, she needed to take her mind off of it. She could not see spider in this state, the boy, despite a human, has grown significantly. He is already the age of two years and is able to have short conversations with her. If he saw her upset he will become sad too, and she hated to see him sad.

___ carefully got up from the floor, sweeping the beads and taking the broken string, moving to place it inside a small satchel she had in her side of the room. The pregnant woman wobbled over to the entrance and pulled it back, sighing and descending slowly to the forest floor. It was hard for her to move and most days she spent inside the hut, even when Jake’s harsh words made her upset. He called her lazy, yet do not understand the weight of her stomach and the swollen ankles of her feet. Her belly was large, far larger than what was normal for an Omaticayan baby and she was worried for the child’s health, Mo’at says they will be fine though, so she entrusts everything to Eywa’s will.

___ waddled into the forest, only carrying her knife and her thoughts. It was not time for eclipse so she could go to the tree of souls and back in time for bed. She will skip the communal dinner and eat what is left over. She knew it was not healthy for the child she carried, or for herself, but she does not have the will in her to face her supposed mates.

The jungle seamed to glow in the daylight when the Na’vi strolled past, the grass softly swayed beneath her feet and syaksyuk glanced to her in curiosity, swinging away once they have had their fill. She smiled at a mother holding her young, giggling when the baby tried to get closer to her so the Na’vi stopped.

Once the creature neared her it tapped her swollen belly twice, looking at her and running away when their mother hooted for them to go. Smiling at the small interaction she carried on with her journey, it was almost like the great mother is blessing her. The small syaksyuk lifted her dampened spirits until her mind wondered back to the broken bracelet and she sighed, ears turned down once again.

The tree of souls was beautiful, even in the daylight. It’s white tendrils moved and pulsed with energy, almost as if it was greeting her. ___ walked closer and took out her queue, letting the nerves tangle with one of the hanging branches of the tree. Her pupils dilated as she was sucked through the eye of Eywa, coming out of the end of the tunnel and being faced with Kelutral. Her old home.

“And what are you doing?” a little voice sassily scolded behind her, small hand tapping her back thigh and prompted ___ to turn around. The woman’s eyes watered at the sight of a younger Sylwanin, a few years younger than the day the RDA took her life away from her.

“Sylwanin” she tried to squat but found it too hard to properly hold the position so she resorted to sitting down, her hand held her friends own as the girl cocked her head to the side. “It has been too long”

“Srane. Too long indeed. Your tummy is big” the child pointed out and placed a small hand on top of it, feeling the movement of the babe and grinning. ___ was not able to see Sylwanin at the tree since she found out about her pregnancy, Neytiri made sure about that.

___ giggled at her, cupping her face and kissing her forehead. When her eyes opened she was met with the yellow of an older girl, one who was both mature and wise. “Syl’, Neytiri poe -“ the very thought pained her and the pregnant woman squeezed her eyes shut, heart heavy with grief and stress. “I do not understand why - I am sorry” she started to sob, shoulders shaking at the weight of it all.

Her friend held her wrist in her hand and examined it, blood and forming blisters caked it where the bracelet was pulled. ___ wiped her eyes clear, sniffling. She did not notice it before. “You have not been treated well. My sister is being a kurkung” Sylwanin hissed in anger, using her thumb to brush away the rest of the tears that fell down the others face. “But you do not have to be sorry for her mistakes”

“I feel like I had to apologise”

“There was no need” she kissed the wounded wrist and ___ felt no pain, just a soft pressure and a feeling of comfort spread through her body. “You can always make a new one, no? Or better yet, name them after me” she chuckled and pointed to her friends tummy.

___ grinned and rolled her eyes “Sylwanin is a silly name, there is no need” and at that, the mentioned girl pinched the tip of ___’s ear. She let out an ‘ouch!’ and glared playfully, she was exactly like her mother.

“My name would be great for your child, I would have forced Tsu’tey to name our own after me”

“Poor Tsu’tey” ___ laughed louder when Sylwanin slapped her arm. When the joy dulled down, the heaviness of the world came crashing onto her, the mood swings elevating her emotions. “Syl’ I do not think I could do this any longer” she cried out once more, tail thumping the floor and ears pinned to her head “they would treat my baby with harsh words and neglect, that is no way for a child to live…I cannot do this without you. I wish you was here. I wish I still had the bracelet” her eyes produced fresh warm tears that ran down her cheeks. ___ missed Sylwanin with her whole heart and when Neytiri broke her accessory, it was like ripping into her chest and squeezing until she stopped living.

The older Na’vi cupped her face, eyes doe and smile filled with understanding “ma tsmuke, I am always with you. Bracelet or not. I am apart of Eywa. I follow you wherever you go, I see you wherever you turn, I am with you ___. Even if you do not see me”

“I see you sister, Oel ngati kam -“ a sharp pain stopped her watery words, her hand instantly clamped down on her abdomen, breathing ragged. What was this? Another sharp punch and what felt like water ran down her legs. No. It was too early.

Panicked she looked up at her sister who looked as calm as ever, reassuring her frightened body with just a glance in the eye. “You are ready to become a mother. Just breathe ___. Breathe”

Her eyes blinked open and she inhaled sharply, she was back under the tree of souls, no Sylwanin in sight. Another kick in her tummy made her release a shout. She held onto her friends words, like an anchor at the back of her head. She breathed in deeply and let the air out slow.

It was time.

previous | next

[reallyromealone]

SOULMATES.

OMEGAVERSE, MALE READER, OMEGA MALE READER, ANGST TO WELL SOMETHING, MXM

♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

He swore he could hear him when he slept.

Four months ago (name)s world came crumbling, on his eighteenth birthday his soulmate mark appeared, the words his soulmate would speak to him upon their first meeting in their handwriting.

"A human?" Was what it said in elegant handwriting, the words concerning the Omega who kept the words hidden from those around him.

Especially his brother.

Tengen would lose his mind if he read what was written on the other.

(Name) wandered down the streets with his brother, wanting to do some light shopping as tengen had given him some money to buy more supplies for his hobbies, the Alpha pleased his little brother found peace from their family with activities.

"Oh- I'm sorry, here you take it" (name) said politely to the tall man before him with the deepest plum eyes he had ever seen "a human?" The black haired man mumbled, stepping closer to (name) "my soulmates human..."

Muzan should have expected it, the only way his mate would have not been is if he or...her, had changed him.

"I-I must go" (name) said panicked, Muzan taking in the sweet pharamones of the Omega, burning it into his memory as he watched the Omega run off.

He will make arrangements to collect the Omega soon enough.

He knows the consequences of anything happening to his Omega.

It could be incredibly detrimental to him.

When two soulmates interact for the first time, their souls are connected and if one gets hurt, the other would feel the pain and humans were fragile.

Tengen saw the interaction go down, ushering his brother urgently.

His room was covered wall to wall with wisteria, papers soaked in the flower smacked against the walls, poor (name) not allowed to leave the grounds under any circumstances.

But everyone forgot that they were connected, the demon using the soulmate connection to influence (name) via dreams.

It was faint whispers of sweet words, seducing him to leave his room.

But (name) resisted, ignoring the others words and sweet whispers.

Then he appeared in everything.

Words began shifting in the books his brother brought him amongst everything else, poor (name) conflicted and scared.

Logically, this was the king of demons.

He was responsible for killing many he held dear and causing tragedy anywhere he went.

But his Omega practically screamed at him to see his alpha.

Tengen spoke to the other demon slayers about this, worried for his brother who was definitely struggling, nearly dropping twice.

(Name) would be taken to the headquarters so his health could be better monitored and protected.

(Name) was weak as his brother lifted him, clinging helplessly "don't worry (name), I will keep you safe" tengen said assuredly as he carried him out, the Alpha having changed the Omega in clothes soaked in wisteria flowers to ward off any demons.

(Name) sat with closed eyes as the train rumbled, the wisteria having quickly faded from his clothes due to the long trip and just feeling dazed.

"Excuse me sir?" A small voice rang from beside him, (name) blearily turning to see a small boy with well kept hair and a soft expression "I can't find my father... Could you please help me?" He asked with a pleasing tone and (name)s Omega sensed his alpha was near...maybe this was his pup.

Due to the poorness of his health, (name) didn't remember the warnings his brother told him, the white haired alpha having to step away for a moment.

"My brother will be here in a moment... He's better equipped than I am currently" (name) could barely stand as the pup came closer "can I stay with you?" He asked sweetly and (name) struggled to resist as the boy gently gripped (name)s clothes "I suppose, when my brother returns we can look for your father" (name) said letting the boy scoot beside him and after months his Omega was finally quiet.

Tengen was confused as he spotted the child beside his brother, the little boy familiar but (name) seemed content by the pups presence "whose this?" Tengen asked kindly and (name) for the first time in a while smiled "his name's Toshikuni, he's seperated from his father... I thought it would be safe for him to stay here till you return"

Tengen smiled at his brothers kindness, the Omega was always incredibly kind and wanting those around him to thrive.

Which is why it confused him in why he was soulmates with the true antithesis of himself.

A monster.

It felt like his brother had been cursed and Tengen had no way of fixing it.

It was devastating.

He remembers when his brother finally spoke to him about it, the pieces connecting and devastated he looked at the concept of the person for him trying to kill those he loved.

Tengen got ahold of a train attendant and (name) weakly crouched to the boys eye level, letting him hug him "I will return for you" the child's voice completely changed to the voice of...him.

(Name) pulled away to see flashing red eyes before turning back to a deep purple, the boy taking the attendants hand and wandering off.

(Name) was frozen in place as his brother helped him back into his seat, the white haired man assuming his brother was just dealing with slight withdrawal and held him close.

Tengen was abnormally quiet, worry evident in his movements and scent as he tried to think of anything to make his brother happy.

"I'm sorry..." Tengens voice was soft as he stared at his brother "I'm sorry your soulmate is...is him"

"It's not your fault, it's nobodies..." (Name) whispered as he stared off before closing his eyes.

He was just so tired.

Tengen looked panicked as his brother dropped again "shit! (Name)--- let's get you comfortable" tengen said panicked and adjusted his brother to a better position.

CRASH

the train suddenly began shaking, tengen pulling out his blades.

Something bad was about to happen.

Things moved in slow motion as the side of the train ripped open, the little boy from before having spikes from his back... Tengen knew something was off with the kid.

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be" Muzan hissed out as the train continued moving, the air pulling things out as Muzan manipulated his arm to stab at tengen, tengen keeping him away from grabbing at (name).

(Name) was practically being thrown around as the two fought for him "keep away from my brother you fucking demon!"

"We're here!" Tengen looked to see the other demon slayers whom had been previously missing "there were other demons on the train, we were ambushed" Tanjiro said as Muzan attacked once more but sadly the strike was hard enough to shake the train aggressively.

(Name) was set in a seat, still dealing with a drop when his body was forced out.

Below them was a lush forest, everyone watching in horror as (name) fell below.

Muzan and Tengen barely spared a glance as they both followed after.

It was by some miracle that (name) landed safely, falling into a pond and waking as his body forced him awake for his safety.

(Name) was Shakey and coughing as he made it to land, unsure how he got... wherever he was.

Clothes soaked he stood up, not looking unlike a newborn lamb as he did so.

He stumbled through the woods, leaning into trees before eventually dropping and leaning against a large oak tree, vision hazy and body cold.

Footsteps could be heard, his eyelids heavy unable to see as a hand gently cupped his cheek "tengen...?"

"No Omega, open your eyes" the voice commanded as (name) opened his eyes to see red staring back "I told you I would return for you" (name) wanted to be scared, to be angry but he was so tired and his Omega was so happy...

"(Name)!" Tengen yelled out as he raced towards the two, Muzan holding (name) in his arms and then...they were gone.

(Name) was gone.

[yaut-jaknowit]

Masterlist for Vic'tao and Uihoy

Vic'tao and Uihoy were a pair before meeting you, their little hunter. Vic'tao is the young male on the left... well somewhat young. That's what Uihoy just calls him. Uihoy is the elder on the right. Just a male wanting to live out the rest of his life in peace but he has you and Vic to make his life interesting.

Young, full of life, Vic'tao keeps you on your toes. He's spunky, maybe a little rude, but he's extremely protective of you. Both of them are when you go out on hunts with them. He doesn't under ooman emotions very well and leaves that to Uihoy. But, he'll cuddle with you if you ask nicely.

Lax, lazy, Uihoy is your emotional support. He's lived long enough to experience the rollercoasters of ooman emotions. Uihoy is a hardened warrior like most at his age. He likes to lounge around his spacious ship with you tucked into his side.

I also have a Kofi if anyone is interested but all of my stuff is free. So have at it.

Vic'tao's One-shots: 5 Uihoy's One-shots: 8 Vic'tao and Uihoy's One-shots: 12

Vic'tao (Male Yautja)

Our Hands Together (F)

Finder's Keepers, Looser Weepers (Light Angst)

Till The End Of Time (A/F)

Switching Roles (F/M)

Curiosity Led A Path (F/A)

Tables Have Turned (M)

Pushed Too Far (M)

Uihoy (Male Yautja)

Long Distances (F)

Flogged (F)

Go Slow (S/M)

Mating Season (M) Part 1

Worship My King (M)

Hate Until You're Knotted (M)

Right Here (M)

Short King (F)

Vic'tao and Uihoy

Demands are Met (F)

Battling Dangers (A/F)

New Discoveries (M)

First One to Make a Noise, Loses (M)

No Clothes on Board (M)

Need Isn't A Strong Enough Word (M/A/F)

It's Never Been Done Before (M)

I Need You (M/F)

To Break Apart (A/F)

Mating Season (M) Part 2

An Elder and His War Stories (F)

Chance of Fate (A)

Lost in Translation (?)

A Worthy Challenge (A?/F?)

Eyes Are The Window To The Soul (A/F)

Daddies (F/S?)

Low Tolerance (F)

Hiding In Plain Sight

[volterran-wine]

Plagues of the Mind || The Guards

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 @rainxbun: "If you are still taking headcanon requests, would you be able to do the guards x human mate who suffers from chronic migraines? I have chronic migraines irl and I love hearing headcanons for that, it’s very comforting! Thank you! 💕 🐇"

Good evening dear, and my apologies for getting to this request so late. But here is my answer to your inquiries. Now who I have chosen is left as s surprise below, hopefully that will be a little fun surprise for you.

𝐀𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

—  𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐗

Knowing Felix he would probably ask if they wished to be turned sooner rather than later, knowing that it would remove the ailment all together. The executioner is damn near offering the bite himself, the thought of his mate in pain is torture in itself.

Would spend a good hour asking the secretary about how to best deal with headaches and migraines, seeing as though he is quite sure Roman remedies he remembers must be horribly outdated (gnawing on willow bark is not appropriate any longer).

If they need someone to massage their scalp through out the night he will gladly do so. If they are lucky their migraines flare up during the winter, meaning the executioners core temperature would be lower than normal.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

—  𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐄𝐀

If there ever was a gentle and caring soul to watch over you during a horrible time; it is Chelsea. Several guards have ended up referring to her as mom, in various languages, and she considers it an honour that other view her as such.

The fussing would me immediate, perhaps even a little overbearing with how she would lock the two of them in a dark room the very moment a migraine hit. She would most likely send requests to Heidi depending on what they would need.

Would hum and run her fingers through their hair, a gentle tune she learned back during her tune she used to sing to her children.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

—  𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐈

As much as the tracker wants to pretend he know a and understands everything, human ailments is not one of them. Would have an initial panic attack about how to best deal with the situation. There is a 9/10 chance he will go straight to Heidi or Felix for help because he needs someone with more knowledge about humans to deal with this.

Demetri will probably hole them up in his own quarters, piling blankets and whatever he can find on top of them. Would return from a small drug store with every painkiller known to man, even the ones who are definitely not meant for any sort of headache.

If the tracker has to be away from Volterra he will regularly check in on them through their tenor. Though he normally cannot feel anything special, a part of him is convinced he is able to see if they are alright.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

—  𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐍

I believe Corin would go rather scientifically to work when it comes to helping an ailing human mate the short time they have left as a human. That means she is reading every research paper known to mortal or immortal, on the topic of migraines.

There will be ten kinds of painkillers, two glasses of water and a dark room at their disposal any time of the day. If their stomach is upset she will gladly cook light meals as well.

If push comes to shove she will try to use her gift to elevate the aches, with her being able to render just about anyone content she hoped it would lead to a moment of peace at the very least.

[harukadrawsthings]

Looking back at all the stuff ash went tho

Does he...remember all his deaths.

If so,did he tell goh or his mother...

Or a threapist-

I believe he both remembers and forgot about times he nearly died due to his altruism combined with recklessness 😆. Ash has travelled so much since he begun his career as a competitive Pokémon Trainer that his stories would be enough to write a collection of books!

And he wouldn't tell Goh about every single moment he happens to remember, he knows his husband can get agitated about that. The same goes about telling his mother!

[ashensgrotto]

The Sea's Sacrifice (Part 2)

Characters: Azul Ashengrotto / Jade Leech / Floyd Leech x Fem!Reader

Total Word Count: 14.7k+

Part 1 Part 2 (You Are Here) Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Synopsis: A potential job as a marine biologist’s assistant leaves (Y/N) feeling something fishy going on behind the scene…

Author’s Notes: Original Idea came from @merakiui ’s annonymous ask with a short story / headcannon -> https://www.tumblr.com/merakiui/684490143936167936/ooohhh-i-love-those-writing-ideas-you-had-for-sea?source=share

and I absolutely love this concept and wanted to take it a step further. I don’t write yandere nor fanfiction as much as I did a few years ago. However, I do hope I do this piece justice; I will have links to the next part once it is completed and ready for viewing.

Also, this is a work of fiction. I disagree with anyone that justifies the following behaviors which are represented in this fic (if I think of more, I will add them as I go):

rape/non-consent/dub-consent, possessive/controlling/dominating behaviors, and manipulation

Come my love be one with the sea

Rule with me for eternity

Drown all dreams so mercilessly

And leave their souls to me

***

You don’t see the twins for the remainder of the day.

When you make mention of the encounter in passing to Crewel that evening, the man only smiles - and not in a warm way whatsoever.

“It would seem that our puppy here has peaked their interest,” the eccentric man grinned, an unsettling look on his face as he bares his teeth, “It’s interesting how Floyd has taken the first step, though - I thought for certain Jade would’ve been the one to approach you first.”

“Floyd? Jade?” you arch a brow at the black and white cloaked professor, “Those things have names?”

“They are not things, pup,” Crewel taps his cigarette case against the palm of his hand before pulling one out and lighting it up, “To answer your question, yes, the mers do have names. While you were waiting for them to make their first appearance with you, Trein and I have been working on cracking their communication code. All three speak in chirps, clicks, and coos - though their growls are both intriguing and nerve-wrecking. We believe, based on how quickly they chirp or click, they are either warning each other of danger, food, or saying each other’s names.”

“And how did you figure out their names?”

“It’s a mere guess - but the sound waves we see on our monitors follow a similar pattern as the sound waves in the air following the pronunciation of the names ‘ Jade ’ and ‘Floyd. ’ We’ve also hidden cameras in the enclosure and have heard them speak in our language during playback sessions after certain incidents - such as the attacks on our coworkers.” 

“And part of my job is to see how much of our language they know and potentially teach them more?”

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt to know how much they know or teach them,” Crewel chuckled, “one can’t be too careful with so much knowledge after all.”

‘Knowledge was power,’ you recalled someone telling you once long ago, ‘and too much power could either destroy you or save you.’

“Regardless,” Crewel continued, “I, personally, think it would be interesting to see exactly how much they know about us land dwellers. It would allow us to know if they are watching us and, if so, where we should look to find more - maybe even see how they live and coexist with each other, what parts of the ocean they are likely to hide out in… maybe even see how they mate!”

You sputter, “M-mate?!”

“Of course it’s perfectly natural for animals to go through mating seasons,” Crewel answered with a shrug, “For scientific purposes, it would be interesting to see if they mate like their animal forms or if they follow the human side of romantic courtship.”

‘I’m beginning to think you and the rest of this group are a bunch of perverts,’ you thought to yourself, grinding your teeth together, “And what are you going to do about… that particular question?”

“I think that is enough questions for the day,” Crewel raised his arms above his head, a popping noise indicating a cracked back as he let out a yawn, “Come, puppy. Both of us need rest - we’re going to have a busy day tomorrow.”

***

You didn’t see the twins when you first came in the following morning, nor even after depositing your stuff beside the coat rack and your lunch into the freezer. 

At first, you thought maybe they didn’t exist and you had dreamt up the encounter; but the memory of Crewel’s grin and comment about interacting with ‘Floyd’ kept replaying in your mind as you prepared the merfolks’ breakfast. As you leaned down to dump the second bucket into the pool, a sudden splash of water soaked you from head to toe - forcing you to drop your bucket and fall back on the concrete flooring, sputtering as giggles and clicking noises filled the room.  You brushed your damp hair and salted water away from your eyes as they fell on a familiar figure leaning over the edge of the pool.

Skin the color of seaweed shone under the dimmed fluorescent lights while a set of heterochromic eyes gleamed in delight at your surprise. A grin spread across the mer’s features, revealing a set of shark-like teeth that flashed in satisfaction, the dark teal strand falling in front of his features. 

You huff, grunting as you slowly stand and arch a brow at the creature, “Was that really necessary?”

The creature only beamed wider, clearly pleased with your reaction.

“Honestly, you scared me - nearly gave me a heart attack.”

The creature clicked a few times before pushing himself away and swimming around close to the edge, watching as you grab the last bucket and bring it to the edge.

“No more surprises, ok?” you eye the creature as you reach in and pull out a squid that was about the size of your palm - much larger than a fry, but too small for an adult - offering it to him, “I give you this, you won’t splash me again, deal?”

The moray mer chirps, moving his head in a nod and shifting his body slightly before you toss the squid in his direction. He catches it mid-air like a dog with a tennis ball, the squid dangling out of his mouth as he beams at you. You watch him carefully as you dump the contents into the water and he begins his meal. He starts with the tentacles, pulling them apart and gnawing on them while his webbed hands dug into the mantle of the miniature sea beast - strings of muscle, blood, and ink staining his features before crunching of bone echoes around.  

“Geez, take it easy,” you grumble, “no one is going to take it from you.”

The mer stops and regards you with a look that means, ‘Shut up, I’m trying to enjoy my meal.’

You return the buckets to the side of the freezer before grabbing your notebook and take a seat at the pool’s edge, opening it and beginning to jot down notes.

6:05 am: One of the mers has made an appearance this morning. Based on what I was told by Professor Crewel last night, I believe this one is Floyd - one of the twin morays. It’s hard to differentiate between the two of them, but if I had to venture a guess - Floyd is far more playful than his brother -

Nails clicked against the edge of the pool, forcing you to look up to see Floyd leaning over the edge, studying the word on the notebook. He shifted his gaze from the words before looking at you and back again. 

“What’s up?” 

Floyd chirped at you, crossing his arms and resting his chin on them, eyes watching your every movement as he continued to click and coo.

He stayed like this for the next several hours, clicks and chirps echoing in the room as you shifted between taking notes and partially listening to him. You figured he was telling you something, but since you didn’t understand him, you could only nod and hum in his direction as if you did understand. 

“Hungry,” he says eventually, the word throwing you off guard for a moment.

“Did you just.. Say ‘hungry’?” you asked, blink incredulously.

“Hungry,” Floyd said again, a grin spreading across his features, his eyes narrowing as he eyed you like a piece of shrimp.

“Alright, one moment Floyd,” you move to stand, only for your ankle to be caught by a webbed grip.

You turn, confused to see a look of surprise on the mer’s face.

“Name?” Floyd inquires.

“Are you asking if I know your name?” when the mer nods, you smile, “I was told your name. But, excuse me, I never introduced myself - I’m (Y/N). I’ve been tasked as your keeper.”

It was a white lie - a big one at that - but you weren’t sure if Floyd understood what ‘keeper’ meant nor if he understood that the three of them were under observation. However, you did want to be cautious in the event that in the case Floyd and the others did understand what was going on around them, you wouldn't be seen as a threat.

Floyd spoke your name softly, tasting the words on his tongue before grinning, baring sharp teeth as he shouted, “(Y/N)!” 

You couldn’t help but giggle a bit, murmuring behind a hand that covered your mouth, “That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

Next thing you knew, Floyd launched himself from the edge of the pool and disappeared into the murky water, leaving you curious as to what he was up to. However, if he intended to splash you again, you weren’t going to stick around to find out.

You stood, stretching your back and legs before moving towards the freezer, with the intention of pulling out the three buckets for lunch when Floyd’s voice came again, “(Y/N)! (Y/N)!”

You turned with bucket in hand as Floyd approached the edge, his brother in tow - though he stayed at least a foot away from the edge, but keeping a close eye on you and his twin. You reach the edge a squat down, offering a smile to the second moray mer and a hand outstretched in a non-threatening manner. 

“Hello. You must be Jade, right?”

‘Jade’ lifts his head, allowing you to see his full face and neck, the water lapping at his shoulders, as surprise etched across his features. He blinks slowly, moving a little bit closer before his voice, soft and deep, speaks.

“Know name?”

‘So, Jade knows a few more words than Floyd,’ you think to yourself before nodding, “Yeah, I know your name. I told Floyd that I was told both of your names - I was assigned as your keeper for the time being.”

“Keeper?” Jade askes, head cocking to the side like a dog would.

“Yes, I’m in charge of taking care of you during the day. I’ll be here most of the time, except at night when I have to leave. But I’ll be here to feed you in the morning, afternoon, and evening, and spend time with you guys during the in between hours.”

The twins looked at each other, both clicking and chirping - eyes shifting between your crouched figure and themselves. The looks they shared during these few moments made you feel a bit uneasy, like they were sizing you up for a meal; it reminded you of the lewd glances you received from drunks at the bars you used to work when you first started working, hands sliding up your uniforms before one of the bartenders would step in and smack them away, reminding them the girls were not for touching. It made you shudder, goose pimples rising along your arms.

Jade seemed to notice, clicking softly at his brother as his features relaxed, heterochromia eyes softening on your figure.

“Hungry,” Jade’s voice brought you back, “We… are… hungry.”

***

It only took about a week for Jade to eventually warm up to you, the three of you getting along - even with Floyd’s continued antics.

From what you observed, Jade was the eldest of the two moray twins - he was courteous to you and most of the staff that had on more than one occasion popped in to check on you during your sessions with the two and often kept Floyd from getting too much out of hand; although he seemed to be the one that would antagonize his younger brother with a few clicks and chirps in his direction before Floyd would splash you with water or attempt to pull you in for a swim. Regardless, Jade was always there to pull his brother back while Floyd shrieked in mer - their native tongue that you supplied in your notes, thrashing about while the eldest cooed in delight at how quickly Floyd could be worked up. 

Jade was also very intelligent, often poking at the books you had brought along with you and chirping with curiosity. Unlike his brother, who had the attention span of a three-year-old, Jade listened intently to each word and pronounced them back to you with a few stutters here and there before saying the word like he was born to speak. He couldn’t form coherent sentences without the occasional click or chirp, but then again - speaking your native tongue was like you learning to speak his, it would take time and practice before he could reach that point. 

The easiest words for Jade are your name, the word ‘pearl,’ and greetings. He always glowers when the time comes for you to leave before grumbling in the water, bubbles appearing around his face as he sinks under the surface with only the top of his head and eyes peering out from beneath the enclosure’s water surface. Floyd had picked up on this and began copying his brother, both of them looking like angry puffer fish each time you leave the enclosure and lock the door behind you.

Trein stops you one evening on your way out, a black and white cat in his arms, “How are things going, little keeper?”

“I think I’m making progress,” you answer, holding out your filled up notebook from the first month to him, “Crewel requested I give you this at the end of the first month.”

“I should hope so,” Trein took the notebook, shifting the lazy cat in his arms around to flip through the pages, “I saw that you’ve become quite comfortable around the twins - Floyd nearly drowned you in the pool the other day, yes?”

“Almost, though I think he was just playing around,” you answer, “he’s like a little kid - so energetic.”

“Perhaps… How's the research on our cecaelia?”

“The cecaelia?”

Trein raised one brow as the cat harrumphed at you, “Did you forget there are three of them?”

“I suppose I did,” you gulp before shrugging sheepishly.

“Do not forget that there is more than just the twins in that enclosure,” Trein warned, closing the notebook with a loud snap in one hand, “The sea is as dangerous as its mysteries that lurk beneath its surface. The twins may be comfortable around you, but the cecaelia is something no one has ever seen, much less interacted with. If it were to pull you under the waters tomorrow, we’d never know what happened, and I doubt the twins would do much to save you either.”

“I won’t let anything happen,” you answer with a strong resolve, brows creasing inward, “besides, if Crewel’s hunch is correct, I might be able to get the twins to persuade the mer out if I play my cards right.”

“You better. Remember, you only have two months left. I’d like to see some progress before the end of next month.”

***

As was expected, the twins were no help at all.

Each day for the next week, you attempted to discuss the octomer with the twins - you figured if you could get more information about the mer in question, you might be able to indicate something about him in your notes. Unfortunately, the twins couldn't completely understand you - even when you drew out a picture of what appeared to be an octopus and tapped a finger against the drawing. They did, thankfully, seem to understand you were curious about the third member of their trio, with Floyd chirping "Octo-chan" a few times before disappearing under the water.

The only piece of information you could gather was a word, spoken by Jade when you first asked about the mer.

Azul.

But, azul was a color - blue, to be precise. What does "azul" have to do with an octopus? You contemplated this for several hours after the twins left you to your devices one morning. They had greeted you in their usual fashion before taking their leave and disappearing under the water. It had been about two weeks since Jade had spoken the word and even when you asked about it, the clicking and chirping that came from both mers had you scratching your head in confusion. 

Maybe "Azul" wasn't a color, but a name? Or code? 

You scratch the back of your neck as you look at the chart you've drawn out - hoping that you might get some answers. "Okay, let's see," you push the notebook forward and roll to lay on your stomach as the bottom end of the pen traces through the drawn lines and words, "Floyd and Jade are twins - that much is straightforward - and are literal polar opposites of each other. Other than looks, both of them are connected by the octomer who may or may not be named Azul. However, how are the three of them connected? How did they meet?"

You circle the question before moving on to the next part, "As for Azul - he doesn't seem fond of humans as the morays seem to be his protectors. We know he is an octopus, based on eyewitnesses during their capture - however, we don't know much else about him."

You tap your pen against the notepad before flipping through the other notebook that sat beside you, rereading all of the notes you had gathered during the course of the week when discussing the octomer to the morays. You shifted to a kneeling position, your body getting tired of laying flat on your stomach when you felt a pair of eyes watching you.

You turn your head toward the pool, eyes nearly popping out as a head dunks itself low, the top mop of white and lavender shaded hair falling across a set of unfamiliar sea blue eyes.

Dove gray skin glowed in the dimmed fluorescent lighting as the sea blue eyes peered at you curiously, pupils horizontal slits that expanded and constricted as the two of you locked eyes with each other. When he raised his head, the water revealed several long strands of silver that rested about chin length on the left side of his face - the rest of the starlight colored hair cut short with water dripping from the tips and creating little pointed tips on the ends. Full lips were slightly parted with surprise, a little beauty mark resting just below his bottom lip and nearly blocked by the long strand. Unlike Floyd and Jade, his ears matched that of a human - rounded and uncut by earrings many humans wore. Below him, you could only see blackness - a darkness that cut through the murky waters of the pool as multiple limbs shifted in the water.

Overall, the octomer was stunning.

You took a deep breath and smiled softly at him, holding out a hand to him, “Hello. It’s nice to finally meet you. Are you Azul?”

The octomer looks around cautiously before returning his gaze to you with a slow nod.

“You have a beautiful name, Azul. I’m (Y/N) - though I’m sure the twins told you about me.”

Azul nods, slowly reaching a hand out towards yours open one.

“(Y/N)?” the voice of Crewel comes from the entrance of the enclosure.

Startled, Azul disappears under the waves as the twins appear, a heavy wave of water dousing the two of you - causing the two of you to sputter in surprise. Jade growls at Crewel, snapping his jaws in a threatening manner while Floyd leans over the edge of the pool, getting into a protective stance in front of you and snarling at the professor before shifting his gaze at you with worry.

The only thing you can think of as you watch the scene before you unfold is, ‘Did I manage to become a part of Jade and Floyd’s group? If so, what happens now?’

[evans23]

RICKMAS 2024 - DAY 5 - Open Doors

Pairing : Sinclair Bryant x OC (Contessina)

Summary : Five Christmases during which Sinclair realises that sometimes, closing one door opens a thousand others.

Tag(s)/Warning(s) : Mention of incest.

A/N : Puppy boy is back !

Also on AO3

December 24, 2020

Sinclair, for the first time in his 39 years of existence, did not feel like celebrating Christmas. His divorce had been finalized at the very end of November. A difficult divorce, not so much because of his ex-wife who had too much to reproach herself for to really argue about silver vases and spoons, but for the nature of the betrayal.

Sinclair wasn't in the mood to celebrate, but William, his friend and the judge who had finalized his divorce had insisted, telling him that he had been moping for a year now and that it was high time to move on. Or at least try. And it was not like Sinclair not to try.

"Sinclair, my friend, life is a succession of rooms and in each room, there are people who mark your life for better or for worse. Natalie was not a good person and I am sorry for what she did to you, but it is time for you to close this door and open a new one," William had wisely said.

And Sinclair had given in. Not really because he had been convinced by the philosophy of doors and rooms, but because he did not really want to be alone for Christmas, and deep down, he knew that his friend was right. It was time to move on, to turn the page, to close the door. His parents were on a trip to Sardinia and all his friends and colleagues had family plans when he had to mourn the family he would never have.

Family... a word that left a bitter taste in Sinclair's mouth, he who had believed he had found his soul mate in Natalie and the mother of his children. Now he wasn't so sure he'd ever have the chance to have children. He wasn't sure he'd ever fall in love again.

Sinclair shook his head as if to shake off all the bad memories. He was in front of William's house, a bottle of his best champagne in his hand. Sinclair had learned at a young age from his own father that one should never arrive empty-handed. His friend's sumptuous house, which was more of a small manor than a house, had been sumptuously decorated by his wife while the buffet - prepared by professionals - already had his mouth watering in anticipation.

Sinclair rang the bell and William greeted him with reserved kindness.

"You've come ! That's good ! Come in, hurry up."

"For your table," Sinclair said, handing him the bottle.

"A Dom Pérignon ! You shouldn't have," William said, taking the bottle with sparkling eyes.

Sinclair then lingered by the fireplace. It was not his habit, he usually so outgoing, ready to become friends with everyone, he who always had something to say found himself petrified. Natalie had left much more of a mark on his soul than he himself would have believed.

That's when he saw her. Alone in a corner, she seemed to want to disappear, like him. She didn't seem to be from the same world as Richard, or even Sinclair. Probably a friend of his wife who was the headmistress of a private school for girls in central London. Intrigued, Sinclair approached to greet her. She was pretty in her purple dress, a dress he was sure to have seen on a famous singer but he couldn't remember her name.

"Are you all right?" he asked kindly.

She just nodded with a small smile that didn't reach her eyes. But beneath her apparent coldness, Sinclair could see a gentleness and a light that was just waiting to be revealed.

"My name is Sinclair. Sinclair Bryant," he introduced himself.

"Nice to meet you, Sinclair, I'm Contessina," she replied softly.

"It's a very pretty name," Sinclair said sincerely, "not very English," he added with a twinkle of curiosity in his eye.

"My father is Italian," she replied before quickly adding that her mother was English, as if having mixed ancestry was a fault.

Sinclair told her about a trip he had taken to Rome. She admitted, shyly, that she had never had the opportunity to set foot in Italy. Sinclair sensed her unease, so he tried not to brag too much about his travels across Europe. Contessina and he must have had very different childhoods. Sinclair had grown up with a father who had one foot in business and the other in politics and a mother who was a lawyer who had put her career on hold to take care of him after his birth, a sacrifice she had never regretted because in her opinion, her son was her greatest achievement.

"Are you friends with William or his wife?" Sinclair asked casually.

"His wife. I work for her. I teach English and drama."

"Oh ! Are you acting in theatre ?" Sinclair asked with renewed enthusiasm.

Contessina seemed as enthusiastic as Sinclair to talk about one of her passions. And the conversation continued with Sinclair's incessant questions that didn't seem to bother her in the least.

interlocutor, though she asked few in return.

He knew before the meal that she had spent two years at drama school before having to drop out when her parents could no longer afford to pay for her tuition. She had failed to get a scholarship, so she had worked a series of unfulfilling jobs before settling on teaching. It had not been her dream career, at least not when she was a teenager, but she had eventually found a certain comfort in it that had erased her past failures. She lived alone in London, her father having moved to Blairgowrie after her mother died to be closer to his brother, and Sinclair could tell that she must not have made friends easily. She was reserved, though not without wit and intelligence. Talking to her was a treat. She could talk about anything and was not ashamed to admit when she did not know something. But most of all, she was interested in what he was saying and that was a change for Sinclair.

During the meal, he made sure to sit next to her. They continued to talk about everything and nothing and for the first time in a long time, the weight in Sinclair's chest had gone away. He wasn't thinking about the events of almost two years ago. There was no more Natalie, Richard, betrayal in his parents' bed, under his own roof, before his eyes and the eyes of the housekeeper.

Shortly before midnight, the two were sipping a glass of Sinclair's champagne. She had finally dared to ask Sinclair what he did for a living and, although she admitted that she didn't understand much about his job, she listened to him talk passionately about what he did and his clients... who sometimes had unconventional habits.

Midnight finally struck, Christmas arrived and Sinclair felt that in a few days, the new year would finally bring him new peace.

"Merry Christmas, Sinclair," she said with her enigmatic smirk.

"Merry Christmas, Contessina."

A half hour later, much to Sinclair's dismay, she was leaving the party.

"I can give you a ride if you want ?" he offered.

"No, it's not necessary, I don't live far away."

Sinclair doubted it. She was in one of the most expensive neighbourhood in the city, but he didn't insist.

"I was glad to have you as my companion for the evening," she added as she put on her coat and scarf.

"Me too !" Sinclair exclaimed with a big smile, "I didn't notice the time go by."

He watched her go down the steps when suddenly she turned around.

"Sinclair ?"

"Yes ?"

"You should smile more often. It suits you."

And without adding anything else, she disappeared into the night, leaving those simple words etched in Sinclair's mind forever.

He had felt something new but he had preferred not to push it further. He could have asked William to find his phone number, to get everything she knew about Contessina from his wife, but he didn't. He wasn't ready to be hurt again.

However, fate seemed to want to put Contessina in his path. Three months later, Sinclair saw her again at a market. She was buying small perfumes to offer to her students for Easter which would soon arrive and, as if she were a magnet that attracted him, Sinclair had not been able to turn around to avoid her. He had invited her to share lunch with him, then dinner and after that, there had been other dinners, evenings at the movies, galas for his work and then a whole weekend at his place, then a whole week. And slowly but surely, Contessina had made her way into his heart just as Sinclair had made his way into the young woman's.

December 24, 2021

Over the months, the relationship between Sinclair and Contessina had evolved, had built itself, without rushing, with caution, with respect, with trust. There wasn't a day when the two did not see each other and tonight, Sinclair wanted to take an important step.

It was the first Christmas that Sinclair had had at his place since his divorce and he had decided to do things simply. Contessina was his only guest. He had cooked a simple, unpretentious meal and bought a dessert from his favourite bakery, a dessert without fruit since Contessina had once told him that a dessert with fruit wasn't a real dessert.

The table was elegant. Sinclair had set a white and gold tablecloth on which he had placed candles and a few flowers prettily arranged in the vases he had inherited from his grandmother. In the background, he had put on Christmas carols, as cliché as they come.

"It's beautiful, Sinclair," Contessina said as she discovered the dining room.

Near the door that led to the veranda, the large fir tree dominated, splendid with its multi-coloured light garland and its glass balls.

"Is this a real tree ?" she asked, gently touching the needles.

"Yes. My father didn't like artificial trees. We always had real trees at my house."

"It's funny, my mother didn't like real trees so we always had a synthetic one. A faded green tree. But it didn't take away from the warmth of the party."

It was the first time she wasn't spending Christmas with her dad, but she knew he was fine, doing it with his brother and his family and most important : he was happy that his daughter seemed to have found a good man. He had met Sinclair thrice and he have had a very good impression of the man. 

Sinclair smiled at her, gently kissing her temple. Contessina brought a simplicity to his life that he had never known. She didn't seek luxury, she wasn't after her money and she liked simple things. This wasn't really the case for Sinclair who had grown up with money and firmly believed in spending it. He liked beautiful things and collecting expensive objects, but this contrast between them brought a certain balance to his life, a balance that did him good.

"I hope you like it. I spent hours in the kitchen," Sinclair said as he arranged the dishes on the table.

Contessina hadn't imagined that Sinclair was the cooking type, and she was pleasantly surprised, even touched by the attention he had put into making everything perfect for their first Christmas just the two of them.

A little before midnight, Sinclair decreed that it was time to open the presents, as excited as a child, which made Contessina laugh with a crystal-clear laugh that, after a year, still made Sinclair shiver.

"Mine first," she said as she handed him a large package that weighed quite a bit in his small hands.

Sinclair unwrapped it without ceremony and his eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and joy.

"Where did you get that ?" he asked incredulously.

"One of my colleagues knows someone who knows someone who works for an antique dealer."

Sinclair shook his head in disbelief.

"Are you happy ?" she asked shyly.

"Am I happy ? Contessina, you managed to find that impossible to find book of poems ! I didn't even think you would remember it !"

Sinclair kissed her tenderly and a slight red colour rose on the young woman's cheeks. Of course she had remembered what he had told her. She was like that, reserved, speaking little although she had many interesting things to say, but she always remembered the important things. Like him, except that Sinclair talked to her all the time.

"Mine now," he said, handing her a very small box.

She unpacked it carefully to find a key. She looked up at him questioningly, one eyebrow raised.

"This is the key to here," Sinclair explained. "All this coming and going... it's a bit redundant, isn't it? And you're here more often than you're in your shared apartment. Stop spending your money to live in this chicken coop and move in with me."

She looked at him, unsure of what to say, and Sinclair felt panic rising in him. Had he wanted to move too fast ?

"Are you serious ?" she finally asked, "I thought you weren't ready," she added.

"I thought so too, but that was before. Contessina, I want to move on. It's time for me to open a new door, to enter a new room, and I want to be in this room with you. I want you to be the one to mark my life for the better."

Contessina squeezed the key between her fingers, nodding briskly, her eyes slightly moist.

"Is that a yes ?"

"That's a yes," she said, standing on tiptoe to kiss him.

"This is the most enjoyable Christmas I've ever had," Sinclair said, resting his forehead against Contessina's.

December 24, 2022

It had been almost a year since Contessina had moved in with Sinclair. They had gotten to know each other better, to live together, to discover and accommodate each other's little flaws. They had had their first fight, their second, their third, but they had never gone to bed angry. That was Contessina's rule: he always had to settle their differences before he went to sleep.

Sinclair's rule was that he should never hide anything from each other. He wanted honesty, even if it hurt. She shouldn't hide anything from him, neither her sorrows, nor her torments, nor what annoyed her about him and above all, above all, if one day she fell in love with someone else, she had to tell him. She should never make fun of him.

Sinclair had insisted so much on this last point that Contessina had timidly asked him if he had been betrayed in the past. Sinclair had hesitated, but in the end, he had told her everything. He owed her that much, after all if he demanded total honesty from her, he had to be so with her in return. Contessina couldn't hold back her grimace of disgust when Sinclair had told her that Natalie had slept with her own brother, in the sheets of her parents' bed.

"When you say her brother... you mean her half-brother, right ? Not a real brother right ? They don't really have blood in common," Contessina had asked.

"No, her real blood brother by blood," Sinclair had coldly answered.

It had made her feel sick. How could this woman she didn't know but never wanted to meet, firstly betray a man like Sinclair who would have served her the moon on a silver platter if she had asked for it, and secondly with her own brother ? 

And to top it all off, she had the nerve to get fucked like the female dog she was in Sinclair's parents' bed.

But this revelation had helped Contessina to better understand Sinclair, to better understand some of his behaviours and to definitively tolerate his possessiveness and his slight jealousy that had annoyed her a little at first.

Sinclair felt that he didn't really have any reason to doubt her. He didn't imagine her as the type to sleep with another and she was an only child. But he had wounds that didn't would never truly heal and he couldn't put to sleep that primal instinct that had awakened in him when he realized he was in love with her. That instinct that pushed him to protect what was his, in this case her. He loved her, deeply. She was his second chance and he couldn't bear to have his happiness taken away from him again. She was his redemption.

That Christmas, he was spending it at Sinclair's parents' house. It wasn't the first time he'd taken her there, but it was the first time she'd celebrate Christmas with them. He'd been reassured when his mother had told him one evening on the phone that she adored her. She was kind, polite, well-mannered and much more cultured than "the other one".

Of course, Sinclair's parents didn't know the whole story, he had been too ashamed to tell them that apparently he was such a poor husband that his wife had needed to find comfort in sticking his brother's penis in her sheath, but when he had told them of their divorce, he had been surprised to see the relief of his parents who had finally admitted to him that they had never loved him.

"She wasn't the one for you," his mother had whispered to him, "but she, Contessina... she can hold a conversation with you. She's interested in what interests you even if at first she thought she wouldn't like it. She reads your books, she watches the movies you like... and you do the same... She's the one, my boy."

His mother's approval that night had definitively erased any doubts he had been able to harbour. And as midnight struck and everyone exchanged enthusiastic "Merry Christmas," Sinclair watched Contessina get a kiss on the cheek from her slightly tipsy father and smiled. He had done well three years ago to agree to try to close the door to his past and open a new one a crack. He had done so shyly, but that half-open door that had pushed him to accept William's invitation had introduced him to Contessina. She was in the right room at the right time and his life had changed.

December 24, 2023

Sinclair and Contessina had flown to Italy five days earlier. He had promised to show her Rome and he had kept his word. He had taken him to all the tourist spots, from the Colosseum to the Vatican, had made him eat pizza at what he thought was the best pizzeria in the city, and had convinced him to eat "the best ice cream in the whole world" despite the bitter winter cold.

On this Christmas Eve, they were sitting at a table in a fancy restaurant that Sinclair had booked for the privacy it offered. In their alcove, away from prying eyes, they shared different varieties of pasta, grilled meats, and tasty vegetables.

"I'm so happy to be here with you," Sinclair told him as he poured him a glass of champagne.

"And I'm so grateful that you introduced me to Italy," she said, her eyes sparkling with joy.

"We'll see many other places, I promise. How about Paris for the spring ? And maybe Florence for the summer ? You wanted to see where Da Vinci had lived, right ?"

"Sinclair ! You spoil me too much," Contessina replied, a slight pinkness on her cheeks.

"Nothing is too much for you," Sinclair replied firmly.

And he meant it. She brought him a happiness, a joy that he thought he would never find again. He had known many people since his childhood. Each one in different rooms, each one who had marked him, hurt him, shaped him, broken him sometimes too. He had had to close many doors, open others, sometimes open windows when the doors refused to open, but he felt an endless gratitude for the door that had opened on this woman in front of him who looked at him as if he were the most wonderful person in the world.

Dessert arrived. A tiramisu, Contessina's favourite dessert, and fresh fruit. But before she could sink her fork into what she called the dessert of the Gods, Sinclair grabbed both of her hands in one of his.

Contessina raised her green eyes to Sinclair's, eyes in which he could read her soul and in his soul, the sincerity of the love she had for him. This was the moment, he was sure of it. The dim light of the restaurant reflected on his curved nose. His heart was beating wildly.

"Contessina, meeting you is the best thing that could have happened to me. I didn't think I'd get a second chance, but you are my second chance. And I just regret not having had the patience to wait longer for you to be my one and only chance."

He let go of her hands to take a small velvet box from the inside pocket of his jacket. Contessina briefly closed her eyes, sensing what was coming.

"Contessina," Sinclair began as he gently opened the box, "will you marry me ?"

The young woman's eyes immediately filled with tears she had been holding back. Before her was the most beautiful ring she had ever seen. A sapphire surrounded by small diamonds set in a gold band.

"Contessina ?" Sinclair asked with emotion as she was slow to answer.

"Oh, Sinclair ! Yes ! Yes! A thousand times yes !"

Sinclair took her left hand and placed the ring on her ring finger, his own eyes misting with tears.

"I promise to be the best of husbands," Sinclair said as he kissed each of her fingers.

"And I promise to be the best of wives, Sinclair."

And seven months later, in a small, discreet church in Paddington, Sinclair and Contessina said yes to each other for better or for worse, even if Sinclair had no doubt that he would only get the best since he had already had the worst.

December 24, 2024

In his arms, Contessina had fallen asleep, still exhausted from the last few frightening days she had spent. Sinclair did not blame her, he knew that although she hid her weaknesses, and although he didn't doubt her strength, she still had to heal. Her body had been tested, more than it should have been. She had lost a lot of blood, but fortunately, the doctors had managed to stabilize her and had assured Sinclair that she would recover provided she stayed warm, hydrated and fed properly to regain her strength, and above all, had plenty of rest.

It had been their little secret for a long time. As long as she could hide it. On the wedding day, no one had noticed anything except Sinclair who could discern the subtle changes in the body of the woman he loved most in the world. He and apparently the father of his brand new wife, but he couldn't blame the old man for knowing his daughter so well.

When she had announced to him one evening in April that he was going to be a father, Sinclair, for the first time, had been at a loss for words, which had made the young woman burst out laughing.

"You fill me with joy," he had finally said, taking her in his arms and squeezing her with all his strength as if he was afraid she might disappear.

The pregnancy had not been easy. Contessina had nothing of the fulfilled mother-to-be. She threw up all the time, her back, legs and feet hurt all day long and at six months pregnant, she had to stop working when her placenta had slightly detached, causing bleeding that had nearly made Sinclair's heart stop.

But there had also been good times. The baby's first kicks as Sinclair, his head resting on his wife's belly, read him a Dickens story. His moments when his wife's eyes shone with an indefinable sparkle that made her even more radiant or how she had shone by his side, head held high despite her discomfort, during an important evening at Sinclair's work celebrating his brand new promotion.

There had also been the decorating of the baby's room, their little quarrel over whether or not he would know the sex of the baby - Sinclair absolutely wanted to have the surprise, and he had won - and all the evenings when, despite his own fatigue, Sinclair had patiently massaged his feet.

The baby had finally arrived two weeks early. Contessina had woken up in the middle of the night and Sinclair had woken up with a start when she had shaken him lightly.

"I think the baby is coming," she had said with tears in her eyes.

Without waiting, Sinclair had helped him put on a pair of jogging pants and one of his own t-shirts, had put him in the car where the maternity bag had already been in the trunk for over a month and had driven him to the hospital. And indeed, their little treasure, eager to celebrate Christmas with his parents, hadrents, were ready to show themselves. The delivery had been long, tiring, stressful, especially when she had started to lose so much blood that the doctors had had to take her to the operating room to perform an emergency cesarean, leaving Sinclair alone in a sanitized hallway that stank of disinfectant and where a rickety Christmas tree had been placed.

He had been afraid that night, afraid of losing his wife and child, of losing his child, or worse still of losing his wife. But the two of them had held on, two true warriors who had won this battle against life and death, who had broken down the door of survival.

And it was with joy that Sinclair had opened the door of their house to this new little being that he had loved at first sight. His flesh and blood. His son.

"Sinclair ?"

Sinclair came back to reality when he heard the voice of Contessina who had just woken up.

"Are you okay, my love ?" he asked her, smoothing a strand of her brown hair behind her ear while she was rubbed her eyes in a very cute way that reminded Sinclair their young baby.

She moaned slightly before sitting up with Sinclair's help, who, without her having to say it, guessed the pain she was still feeling.

"I think I could use a hot chocolate," she whispered, her voice still hoarse with sleep.

Sinclair immediately complied as she sat comfortably on the couch, noticing that Sinclair had just started the first episode of the Lord of the Rings trilogy.

Her body was still aching. She knew she had to be patient. She had had a lucky escape in that operating room, that room where they had put her into an artificial sleep to get her baby out of her body, to save their lives.

When she woke up, in her hospital room, the two men of her life were there: her father and her husband. Finally, the three men of her life, since in her grandfather's arms was her son.

She would never forget the emotion she felt when Sinclair took the baby back to place him in his arms.

"I waited for you for the name," he had told her while kissing her on the forehead.

She briefly closed her eyes while smiling softly at her memories when Sinclair's voice brought her back to reality.

"My lady's hot chocolate. And mine," he said while placing two steaming cups, full of marshmallows, on the coffee table.

A small whimper was then heard right next to them, in the small crib that was in the living room.

"I'll get him," Sinclair said while standing up.

He came back with their little boy in his arms and sat next to Contessina who rested her head against his shoulder, as well as a protective hand on her son's stomach, which was still sensitive because he's difficult start in life. But with a loving mother and a strong and caring dad, he will be very soon becoming stronger.

"He's beautiful," Sinclair said, looking at him with the same wonder she had when the nurse had come to put him in her arms.

"He looks just like you," Contessina said, kissing Sinclair's cheek.

"Thank you," Sinclair said, his hazel eyes looking into his wife's.

"For telling you that our son looked like you ?"

"No, for coming into my life. For giving me hope in love again. For agreeing to marry me, for never telling me to go away when I talk too much, for genuinely caring about me, for always supporting me and him. Thank you for giving me our child. For giving me a family."

Contessina snuggled closer to him, moved.

"Thank you, Sinclair, for noticing me and for never thinking that I wasn't good enough to be in your life. In your world."

Sinclair rested his chin against the top of Contessina's skull without ever taking his eyes off their child. 

Thomas Sinclair Bryant. 

His son. His heir. The fruit of his love with the true woman of his life, the one with whom he would grow old and face the trials of illness, of old age, but not for a long time. 

Before being old and sick, they still had many things to experience together with their little boy. Many doors to close, many doors to open, rooms to explore. And Sinclair, overwhelmed by happiness, made a promise to himself to help his son get out of the rooms where the people who will be there will have bad intentions, to help him choose his path carefully, but above all, he would teach him that no matter the difficulties of life, the trials and sufferings, he should always have the courage to get up and open a new door.

[zapreportsblog]

Can you do Caius x mate reader

❝baked goodness❞

✭ pairing : volturi x reader

✭ fandom : twilight

✭ summary : (y/n) is the owner of “baked asf” a bakery which she opened with some funds she had saved up, one day out of the ordinary a man shops by and it seems it’s history from there

✭ twilight masterlist

The aroma of freshly baked pastries filled the air as (Y/N) bustled around her bakery, "Baked Asf." She had poured her heart and soul into this place, a dream she had pursued with unwavering determination. Every morning, she woke before the sun to knead dough, perfect recipes, and create mouthwatering delicacies that drew customers from far and wide.

It was a quaint bakery, nestled in a charming corner of the small town. Warm, golden lights spilled onto the sidewalk through the large, inviting windows, beckoning those passing by to step into a world of sweet delights.

One crisp evening, just before closing time, (Y/N) was meticulously arranging her display of cupcakes when the chime of the bell above the door caught her attention. She looked up, expecting to see a customer browsing her treats, but her gaze locked onto a figure that sent a shiver down her spine.

Caius Volturi, a name that had whispered through the town like an ominous breeze, stood framed in the doorway. His piercing crimson eyes scanned the bakery's interior, seemingly indifferent to the delicious pastries on display. His presence was a stark contrast to the warm and inviting atmosphere (Y/N) had created.

Curiosity piqued, (Y/N) approached him cautiously, a friendly smile on her lips. "Welcome to Baked Asf. Is there anything I can help you with?"

Caius regarded her with a calm and calculating expression. He had walked in merely to see what this bakery was about, but something inexplicable stirred within him as he met her gaze. The scent of her freshly baked goods was nothing compared to the intoxicating fragrance that wafted from her skin.

"No, thank you," he replied in a low, velvety voice that held a trace of an accent. "I'm just looking."

As (Y/N) continued to talk to him about her baked goods, her heart raced. There was an aura of danger about Caius that was impossible to ignore, but she couldn't deny that there was something undeniably captivating about him.

Caius, however, was grappling with a realization that shook the core of his being. He had just met his mate, the one person fated to be his for all eternity. But (Y/N) had no idea of the supernatural world he inhabited, nor did she understand the significance of their meeting.

As he exchanged polite pleasantries with her, Caius couldn't help but wonder how he could reveal his true nature to (Y/N) without driving her away. He knew that he was bound to protect her, but the shadows of the Volturi loomed over their newfound connection, threatening to engulf them both in a world of darkness and secrets.

Caius Volturi found himself visiting Baked Asf more frequently than he ever anticipated. Each time he stepped through the bakery's door, he felt an inexplicable pull, a magnetic force that drew him toward the owner, (Y/N). It was a sensation he couldn't resist, even though he knew he didn't need to consume human food.

Every evening, just before closing time, he would enter the bakery. The chime of the bell above the door had become a familiar sound, and (Y/N)'s face would light up with a radiant smile as she greeted him.

"Good evening, Caius. What can I get you today?" she would ask, her voice filled with genuine warmth.

Caius, well aware that he didn't need to eat human food, would pick up a pack of muffins or a cookie from the display, the same every time. "I'll take this, please."

He watched as (Y/N) carefully wrapped his chosen treat, and he paid with generous bills that far exceeded the cost of the pastries. It wasn't the pastries that drew him; it was the simple joy he saw in (Y/N)'s eyes each time he made a purchase. He couldn't deny the pleasure it brought him to make her day just a little brighter.

Days turned into weeks, and Caius's visits became a routine. (Y/N) had noticed his frequent appearances and had even joked about him being her most loyal customer. She had no inkling of the supernatural world he belonged to or the depth of his feelings for her.

As Caius continued his daily visits, he couldn't help but wonder about the consequences of his actions. The Volturi were known for their secrecy, and his connection to a human, no matter how innocent it seemed, was a potential risk.

Yet, he couldn't stay away. It had become more than just about (Y/N)'s smile or the satisfaction of brightening her day. It was about something he had never experienced in his long existence—a genuine connection with another soul.

The more he interacted with (Y/N), the more he craved her presence. He found himself wanting to learn more about her, her dreams, and her aspirations. He wanted to protect her, not just from the world of vampires but from the ordinary challenges that life threw at her.

Caius was trapped in a delicate dance, torn between his loyalty to the Volturi and the desire to keep (Y/N) safe and happy. As the days passed, he knew that the complications of their connection were bound to unravel, and he would have to make choices that could alter the course of their lives forever.

As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the ancient streets of Volterra, Caius Volturi prepared for his nightly visit to Baked Asf. He had come to cherish these moments, the brief respite from his duties and the connection he had formed with (Y/N), the bakery's owner.

However, tonight was different. As he made his way to the door, Marcus, one of the Volturi's most ancient and perceptive members, blocked his path. His hooded cloak concealed his eyes, but the air of curiosity surrounding him was palpable.

"Caius," Marcus began in his soft, monotone voice, "I have noticed your frequent departures each evening. I am curious about this diversion of yours."

Caius knew he couldn't evade Marcus's inquiries for long. The Volturi leader was perceptive, and secrets within the coven were not easily kept. He weighed his options and made a quick decision.

"Marcus," Caius said, his voice low and measured, "if you wish to understand, then follow me. Bring your cloak."

Without waiting for Marcus to respond, Caius turned and strode away from the Volturi castle, knowing that every minute was precious. He could sense that Marcus was right behind him, his presence silent but unmistakable.

The two vampires moved through the darkened streets, passing unnoticed by the oblivious human inhabitants of Volterra. Finally, they reached the familiar corner where Baked Asf stood, its warm lights casting a golden glow onto the cobblestone path.

Caius pushed open the bakery's door, and the melodious chime of the bell announced their arrival. As he stepped inside, Marcus followed, his eyes scanning the cozy interior. His gaze fell upon (Y/N), who was behind the counter, her smile bright as she greeted her customers.

Caius watched Marcus closely, aware that his reaction could have far-reaching consequences. The bond between him and (Y/N) was a secret he had guarded fiercely, but now it was laid bare for Marcus to see.

(Y/N) looked up, her gaze meeting Caius's, and her smile widened. "Good evening, Caius. The usual?"

Caius nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "Yes, please."

Marcus, hidden in the shadows, observed the exchange between Caius and (Y/N). He could sense the genuine affection between them, a connection that transcended the ordinary. It was a bond that neither words nor actions could deny.

As (Y/N) prepared Caius's usual order, Marcus realized the depth of his companion's feelings. Caius had found something rare and precious in this human, something that had captured his heart in a way that Marcus had never witnessed before in their long existence.

Caius paid for his purchase with the same generosity he had shown every evening. As he left Baked Asf, Marcus followed him back into the night, the weight of their silent encounter hanging heavily in the air.

The visit to the bakery had revealed more than just a secret—it had unveiled the vulnerability and humanity that still lingered within the cold hearts of vampires. Caius's connection to (Y/N) was a testament to the enduring power of love, and it left Marcus with questions that would undoubtedly reshape the destiny of the Volturi.

The cozy atmosphere of Baked Asf welcomed another visitor, a stranger to (Y/N)'s bakery. It was Marcus, cloaked in his usual hooded attire, who entered the bakery earlier than Caius, as if by design.

(Y/N) looked up from behind the counter, her curiosity piqued by the sight of the enigmatic newcomer. She offered him a warm smile as she approached, ready to extend the same hospitality she had shown Caius on countless occasions.

"Good evening," she greeted him politely. "Welcome to Baked Asf. Is there something I can get for you today?"

Marcus inclined his head slightly, acknowledging her with a nod. "Good evening, (Y/N). I am Marcus," he introduced himself, his voice low and measured.

His name sent a ripple of surprise through her. Caius had never mentioned a brother before. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Marcus. What can I get you?"

Marcus seemed content to engage in conversation, and (Y/N) found herself drawn into their discussion. They talked about the bakery, the town, and the changing seasons, all while the air inside Baked Asf filled with the tantalizing scent of freshly baked pastries.

Time passed, and (Y/N) realized that Caius had yet to arrive. She glanced at the clock, a touch of concern in her eyes. "I'm surprised Caius isn't here yet. He usually comes in just before closing."

Marcus's lips curved into a faint, enigmatic smile. "Ah, Caius can be rather unpredictable at times. But he speaks highly of you, (Y/N). He holds you in the highest regard."

The unexpected compliment warmed (Y/N)'s heart. She had grown fond of Caius over the months, and knowing that he had spoken kindly of her made her feel a connection that transcended their daily interactions.

Just as their conversation neared its end, Marcus stood to leave. He turned to face (Y/N), his crimson eyes locked onto hers. "It has been a pleasure getting to know you, (Y/N). I look forward to having you as a future sister-in-law."

His words hung in the air, and (Y/N)'s brow furrowed in confusion. "Sister-in-law?"

Marcus's smile widened, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "Yes, (Y/N). Caius speaks of you as if you are already a part of our family. It seems he has found something truly special in you."

Taken aback by the unexpected revelation, (Y/N) stammered, "I...I don't understand."

Marcus's expression remained serene, his gaze never leaving hers. "You will, in time. Just know that Caius cares for you deeply, and that speaks volumes in our world."

With those cryptic words, Marcus departed, leaving (Y/N) with a flurry of thoughts and emotions swirling in her mind. The bond between her and Caius had taken an unexpected turn, and she couldn't help but wonder about the mysterious world that Marcus hinted at. As she continued to serve her customers, she couldn't shake the feeling that her life had become intertwined with something far beyond the ordinary, and she was on the cusp of a revelation that would change everything.

[littlemisspascal]

Getting Lost is Being Found

pairing: joel x female reader

rating: M. 18+ only.

word count: 5.4k

summary:

When you finally brought yourself to open your mouth, it wasn’t a question that came out. It was a fact, simple and blunt. “You’re one of them.”

“I am,” he replied, the sun still emblazoning him in radiant light. Almost made it hurt to look at him. “But I never wanted to be a human again until I saw you.”

warnings: black dog/hellhound au with hints of a bigger plot that I'm too tired to dive into. reader is referenced as smaller + younger than Joel. alpha/omega dynamics. slices of life. time jumps. non-descriptive smut. fast burn/love at first sight. biting. blood. rough handling. language. non-major character death(s). thunderstorms. reference of reader's parents. nudity. sneaking in a CoD reference cuz why not

note: Trying to remember how to write for the fun of it. This is the result *awkwardly throws out into the universe*

i.

You stand on your bedroom’s balcony, concrete tiles cold beneath your bare feet. Your eyes look towards the horizon, fingers tightening around the wrought iron railing.

A storm brews. The sun is swiftly retreating behind the distant hills, leaving the city dark and cold in its wake. Electricity taints the air, the hair on the back of your neck prickling -

And then you hear it, harmonizing with the thunder’s rumblings, the ghastly howls of the Black Dogs chasing down the scent of their prey.

ii.

Nightspyre, for all its blackouts and seediness, isn’t the worst place to call home. Not when you’re collared and marked by an Alpha, not when your Alpha has stared Death in the eye and made Her flinch. Not when retaliation for every spilt drop of innocent blood emerges each sundown in the guise of hulking shadows and gleaming red eyes.

The collar had been your request. An old-fashioned tradition dating back centuries, replaced in recent years by sharper, more permanent means of securing a mate. Your mother, rest her soul, had treated her collar as her most prized possession every moment of her short life. Red velvet with a gold tag inscribed with your father’s name. Gone are the days Omegas gathered and gossiped over the patterns and colors adorning their necks. Bitemarks are the present trend, judged and compared by the size, placement, and number of teeth.

They’re advertised as the ultimate display of devotion. A lifelong promise between an Alpha and their chosen mate. A claim warning off others from sniffing too closely. Simply put: a marked Omega is a loved Omega. 

But you learned the hard way when people saw your mark, they didn't see love. They saw something cruel. Something monstrous.

Only when you began wearing a collar you'd fallen in love with after seeing it in the window of a thrift store, adorned with faint golden moons and stars, did the concerned looks and judgmental whispers gradually stop. Convinced them maybe your Alpha wasn't so heartless as they initially believed.

After all, everyone knows monsters don't know how to be gentle. It goes against their very nature. Everything they touch dies an agonizing death.

iii.

“Do you think it’s possible? To know someone your whole life and also know nothing about them at all?” you ask, fingertips tracing the jagged edges of the bite beneath the curve of your collarbone. It’s a hideous thing made in a frenzied moment of raw need, consequentially stained your favorite sheets irredeemably scarlet. 

Your Alpha looks up from where he’d been dragging his tongue over the knob of your hip bone, replying, “Of course.” He moves to hover over you, bracketing your head with his arms, fogging your senses with his distinct scent of petrichor and woodsmoke. “As long as lies exist, no one’s ever truly known. Just pieces of ‘em.”

“Pieces, huh?” You touch his face now, thumb lifting his upper lip in the semblance of a snarl, revealing a glimpse of too-sharp teeth. “I wouldn’t mind collecting more of yours, Jo–”

A warning nip to your hand, blood hot under the surface. “Careful what you wish for.”

iv.

Lightning bathes the living room in a flash of white. Outside the city is wet and dismal, but here, inside, it’s flickering candlelight, and your Alpha is pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, body more shadow than flesh, and you close your eyes, allowing yourself a moment to pretend the hand on your cheek has fingers instead of claws.

v.

Three years ago you first saw Joel during one of the worst storms in Nightspyre’s long history. You’d been new to the city after finishing your degree and securing a job there, still a rookie navigator of its maze of cobblestone streets and alleyways. The weather was a fickle tormentor, you quickly learned, swapping between dry heat and violent downpour seemingly at whim. You’d entered a restaurant for a late supper in cloudless twilight, and exited an hour later to bone-chilling rain hurtling down from a pitch black sky. And it had been a miserable discovery for you to make whilst shivering beneath the front entry of an abandoned church, paint-chipped with boarded up windows, that absolutely nothing looked familiar in the rain. For all you knew, you’d tripped and stumbled into a completely different world.

A lightning bolt streaked across the sky, your eyes following its descent from the heavens, and that was when you first saw it. A black dog prowling amongst the faded and cracked tombstones, tail unnaturally stiff, seeming completely indifferent to the pouring rain—and ‘dog’ seemed like an insulting descriptive at the time, too small and domestic for the behemoth canine, but calling it a wolf didn’t settle right with you either. It was…it was…

It was staring right at you now, crimson eyes cutting across the distance and the darkness like searchlights. You froze, heart lodged in your throat, and it was such a bizarre thing, to be in the presence of something as simultaneously terrifying as it was so eerily beautiful. And the longer you stared, the more convinced you became that this was no ordinary creature. There was a dreamlike quality to its appearance, blurry around the edges, like it could change shapes at any second. 

Fuck, maybe you had tripped into a completely different world.

Another bolt of lightning bathed the cemetery yard in white light, the dog’s figure caught in the flash. Its black fur was thick around its neck, adding further bulk to its already broad body, and completely dry all over despite the puddle forming at its paws. You heard the uptick of your rampant heartbeat. Instinct screamed at you to run, but something else made you stay. A conviction you both were meant to share this moment together.

And it scared you how much that belief didn’t scare you.

Darkness swallowed the light again, taking the red eyes with it. You remember how you’d stood there until the clouds changed from black to gray, rain losing some of its vicious sting upon striking your skin, and you’d returned home in a numbed state of exhaustion and confusion. In the days that followed, you didn’t get sick from the incident, not even so much as a sniffle, adding another layer of oddness to the whole ordeal. And that dog…you couldn’t shake it from your mind. 

You wanted to know more about it. Any and every last scrap of detail you could find.

vi.

Welcome back! Your recent internet searches:

black dog breeds

massive black dogs with red eyes

black dog folklore

hellhounds

People also searched for:

fairy hounds

perro negro

okuri-inu

the hound of the baskervilles

dogs in folklore, religion and mythology

vii.

“You realize how ridiculous you sound, right?” Abe told you, wiping at his glasses with a cloth, a nervous twitch in his fingers. “The Black Dogs are a silly legend to scare children. Anyone who says they’re real is selling something.”

“I’ll tell Professor Ratna you said that,” you replied with a smirk.

Your quest for answers revealed everyone had an opinion one way or the other on the topic of massive red-eyed, dark-furred canines. Most thought they were myths limited to the boundaries of their pages in books or the online web. A few though, spoke in hushed murmurs, casting around wary glances, as if afraid of accidentally summoning one from the depths of the earth. Others talked with booming voices and gesticulating hands, telling you everything you wanted to hear like they’d been waiting for this conversation their whole lives. 

One homeless drunkard who dwelled in the alleyway next to 57th Street Tavern explained through slurred words, “I’ve seen ‘em, twice I have. They’re big brutes, shaking the ground when they walk. But–but they leave nothing behind. No tracks. Scary fuckers, they are. And they know it–they feast off fear, then they feast on flesh.”

You asked him how he’d lived through the close encounters unscathed and he shrugged off the question. “I ain’t never hurt nobody. The folks they hunt down, they’re already going to hell. The Dogs just bring ‘em there faster.”

You’d visited Professor Ratna next, catching the older woman in-between classes during her lunch break. She’d politely entertained your inquiry rather than outright scoff at it as the rest of the university faculty had done. “My specialty is mycology, not folklore, so I am no expert on the subject,” she said, taking a sip of tea. “That being said, I’d urge you to be cautious if you’re going to continue going around asking these questions. Few things happen in this city the Dogs don’t know about.”

“Makes it sound like they’re keeping the city hostage.”

She set down her teacup and looked you straight in the eye. “No, my dear. They are what keeps the city safe.”

You had left her office even more unsure of your own convictions than you’d felt when you arrived.

“Well, if you’re ever unlucky enough to come across one, run the other way as fast as you can,” Abe said, hesitantly looking up to meet your gaze. “Don’t even think about trying to pet it.”

The thought honestly hadn’t crossed your mind until then. It sounded like the quickest surefire way to lose a hand, perhaps even the whole limb. But if you had taken the chance at the church, you couldn’t help but what would the pelt have felt like –

Thick, dense fur like other canines? Or deceptively smooth and oily like a serpent’s scales?

(The answer, as it turns out, is a curious mix of both.)

viii.

The next day, a man knocked on your front door. He was tall, body thick with muscle and marked with smatterings of freckles and–oh. Your gaze stopped on his abdomen, refusing to dip any lower as realization turned your brain to mush. 

He wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing. Nude as the day he was born.

He wasn’t saying anything either, brown eyes sweeping over your face like he was trying to memorize every detail. In another setting, preferably one without nakedness, perhaps over a candlelit dinner, you would have been flattered by the attention but as it was –

Pressing closer against the safety of the door, you took a tentative sniff of the air. His Alpha scent knocked into you like a tidal wave, barely stifling a reflexive whine in your throat. He smelled like thunderstorms, electric and pungent, like wet grass and ozone all blended together. And something else beneath the surface, something distinctly fiery. Smoky. God, you wanted to drown in that scent.

But first things first –

“What the hell are you doing here?”

The Alpha’s nostrils flared, followed by a low rumble from the depths of his chest that had your grip on the door tightening to keep you from doing something embarrassing  (shamelessly flinging yourself at him came to mind). “I followed your scent. Mint and vanilla.” Another inhale, deeper this time, eyes darkening. “Sassafras.”

His voice was hoarse, grating. Sounded like he hadn’t used it in months, maybe even years.

Your thoughts deserted you again, leaving you to dumbly stare at him for a moment. “Um.”

You’d dated a couple Alphas in the past, nothing that ever developed seriously and that was mostly due to the fact they all didn’t like your scent. Scent-compatibility was an essential factor when it came to bonding–after all, you’d be smelling that scent for the rest of your lives together so it was better to be a pleasing one. One described it as boring, another said it was too clean. Whatever that meant.

But this Alpha—this strange, heavenly-smelling, unfairly attractive man liked your scent enough he followed it all the way to your front door. 

“I–uh,” you blinked once, twice, slowly rebooting your brain, “what was your name again?”

The question had a curious effect on the man, emotions rippling across his face, one after the other, looking lost, but only for an instant, before he swallowed thickly, throat bobbing in a distracting manner.

“It’s Joel.” The corner of his mouth dipped. “I think.”

“You think?” you echoed, eyebrows raising. Who didn’t know their own name?

He lapsed back into silence, but there was a defensive edge to it that wasn’t there before. 

You exhaled a quiet breath and gave him a scrutinizing look, gaze dragging all the way from his head to his dirty bare feet and back up again without pausing on any…intimate areas. You wished you could peel back his layers, cut straight through the weird aura and iron defenses and find out what was there at his center that he’d hidden away.

It must be something incredibly precious, you thought. 

Or something shockingly hideous.

“Tell me, Joel,” you crossed your arms to hide your trembling hands, “have we met before?”

The Alpha tilted his head, midafternoon sunlight turning the dark of his eyes into liquid gold. He swallowed again, then quietly admitted, “Once. A couple nights ago…”

You found yourself leaning closer. He didn’t move away. You could almost taste the rain, the howling wind, the thunderclaps, the lightning, everything wild clinging to his skin. 

“Are you–” You cut yourself off, glancing away. You worried your bottom lip for a moment, hesitant to release the words burning on your tongue, scared of their potentially devastating influence. 

“You’ve been asking an awful lot of questions around town, Sass,” Joel said, soft as a caress. “Haven’t you figured it out by now?”

And that – well, that just about confirmed every last suspicion you had.

When you finally brought yourself to open your mouth, it wasn’t a question that came out. It was a fact, simple and blunt. “You’re one of them.”

“I am,” he replied, the sun still emblazoning him in radiant light. Almost made it hurt to look at him. “But I never wanted to be a human again until I saw you.”

ix.

“Any regrets, Sass?” Joel asks in the midnight hours.

“Hmm?” You curl closer, ear pressed against the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

“If you’d known it’d be like this,” he whispers into your hair. “Would you have run away if you had the chance?”

“Maybe,” you say, and you feel more than see the sudden tension roll through his body, shielding himself from the hurt. “But I would’ve found my way back sooner or later. I’d miss you too much.”

Joel says nothing, doesn’t have to. The way he presses you into the mattress, moves inside you, against you, with roaming hands and searing kisses, becoming one — speaks volumes more than words could ever convey.  

x.

The south side of Nightspyre is a haven for smugglers and thugs, consisting of multiple rows of derelict warehouses and an understaffed police presence, half concealed in the smog produced by the factory district. The streets are sticky with unknown substances beneath your shoes, each breath burning the inside of your nose.

“Gets prettier every time I visit,” Tess says wryly, standing next to you and looking at a spray-painted dick on the side of a dumpster.

You shoot your friend an amused look. Her brown hair’s half-up in a bun, she’s tough as nails, and carries at least four concealed weapons on her person at any given point. Female Alphas aren’t a common sight in the city, but Tess’ intimidating presence fends off the inappropriate comments, striking fear into the hearts of even the biggest Alphas with one icy glare. She’s the perfect ally to have by your side.

“Let’s just grab Joel and get out of here.” You pick up the pace. Your eyes note the different colored ribbons hanging from the overhead telephone wires. Each represents an illegal activity, whether it be gambling or drugs. If one knows their code, these ribbons act as a map of the district.  

Tess holds a hand up, stopping at a crossroads. You watch as she looks to the left, center, and right, then up at the ribbons–red, orange, and black respectively. The code regularly changes depending on the month or weather or local events, memorized by those who frequently visit the area, but there is one warning that will never be made different.

“Beware the path marked by the ribbon dyed black,” you recite quietly. “For if you follow it, you’ll surely become the next meal of the pack.”

“Sure you don’t wanna grab a drink instead?” Tess asks, jerking a thumb in the direction of the orange ribbon. 

You say nothing, adjusting the shoulder strap of your bag, and turn right – trusting that your friend will follow close behind, watching your back as she always has since you first met.

xi.

It's a wonder that there's enough of the body left to investigate, you think, crouching behind a car that smells overwhelming of weed and watching a group of men in police uniforms toss around ideas about who or what killed the dismembered and burnt corpse.

Deaths like this, they're how the myth of the Black Dogs continues to circulate and gain credence amongst the locals. The police, on the other hand, refuse to acknowledge them or the black ribbons pointing the way. They'll claim any other excuse under the sun - rabid wildlife, homicidal rage fueled by drugs or alcohol, deranged serial killers, hell even lightning strikes - but to openly admit beasts of folklore are responsible for the high fatality rate? Not a fucking chance.

They've tried setting traps a few times, reassuring folks they'll catch whatever savage thing is responsible for making the streets run red with blood. "Don't worry," they always say. "We have everything under control."

It’s you who should be worried, you want to retort, images flickering through your mind of sharpened teeth and paws the size of tires. Only a fool attempts to catch a hurricane in a glass jar. 

xii.

It’s another forty-five minutes before you find him.

You slide down a steep slope of dead grass, fresh mud from last night’s storm painting the sides of your pants, seeping into your shoes, almost dragging you face-first into the brown sludge of Pickett’s River if not for Tess’ fast reflexes. Eyes on the culvert pipe, you grit your teeth, remind yourself why you’re here, and step forward into the mess of sewage and soil and rainwater. Disgust is immediate, soaked above your knees, but you force yourself to take another step and another and another until you reach the large, ebony mass lying at the culvert’s gaping mouth, black mist emanating from his heaving flank.

“There you are,” you murmur, dropping to your knees near the muzzy outline of his head. Triangular ears twitch before they are concealed in a haze of shadow again. Your heart sinks, forcing a bit of levity into your tone. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this, yeah? Our backyard is a helluva lot nicer than this shithole.”

“I’ll build a doghouse for him myself if it’ll save me from getting dragged outta bed at this ungodly hour,” Tess offers from somewhere behind you.

She’s smart enough to stay back, especially when the sound of her voice has eyes snapping open in a blaze of red, immediately narrowing into smoldering slits, lips curling back from bloodstained teeth, snarling in challenge. 

“None of that,” you scold, followed by a bop against his nose with your finger. He stills, some of the feral luster clearing from his eyes. His body remains primed to fight, muscles coiled, lingering side effects from last night’s hunt. “It’s over. It’s a new day.” A hot breath of air wafts over your face, flooding your nostrils with a concoction of coppery blood, damp earth, and sulfur. “Fucking hell, that’s awful. You, Alpha mine, need a toothbrush. No, scratch that, you need to gargle bleach to get that nastiness out of your mouth. Ugh.”

Joel shoves his head forward, rumbling a deep, guttural note as his wet nose pressed against the vulnerable tendon of your throat, a hint of teeth grazing your pulse. If not for the bitemark under your shirt and the history of early mornings identical to this one spanning across the course of your relationship, perhaps you might have screamed or fainted in fright. Given the circumstances though, you merely tilt your head back further, allowing him to drink his fill of your scent until he remembers.

He had explained once, his human memories were like sand in this form, his mind an hourglass torn between two lives. Your scent triggers the reset, tipping everything right side up again, memories falling back into place until the next hunt steals them back again.

You know when it clicks because Joel’s breath hitches, a violent shudder rippling along his spine. It’s always agonizing, watching him transform, listening to the grinding and splintering of bones and sinew realigning themselves. The cloud of obsidian mist begins to lighten, the once ambiguous outline of a colossal beast slowly, so painstakingly slowly merging into a man – naked, trembling from the aftershocks, clinging to consciousness by his own stubborn will. 

Brown eyes meet yours, blood smeared across his mouth and beard. “Sass,” he says, a dry rasp sending a wave of warmth all the way down to your frozen and wet toes. “Aren’t you getting tired of coming after me yet?”

“Nah,” you shake your head, smiling. “I think it’s good for our relationship. Keeps things interesting.”

He snorts. “Interesting. Sure, that’s a word for it. How many times’ it been this week? Two, three?”

“Four,” Tess chimes in, punctuated by a pair of jeans striking Joel square in the face.

“Mornin’ Tess,” is the low, sheepish response from your Alpha. He pulls the pants off his head, hair ruffled every which way. “Didn’t see you there. Is that a new haircut? It’s nice. Suits you.”

Your friend hums, unimpressed. She used to think you were cute together, that the twang of his accent was amusing, but after eight months of accompanying you in retrieving his naked ass from various sordid and revolting sites around Nightspyre she’s become immune to his charms.

You pull out a shirt and shoes from your own bag. “We’ve gotta get a move on. Police already think you’re strange. Don’t need to give ‘em another reason to dislike you.”

“Four hunts in one week,” Joel mutters under his breath as he begins dressing, a disturbed look in his eye, and you hear what he isn’t saying, unspoken words weighing heavily upon your chest like individual stones.

Four more damned souls.

xiii.

Sometimes you can’t find him the morning after a hunt, losing him amongst the creeping shadows, and you’re forced to wait, anxious and helpless, until there’s another storm, another hunt, another death to reunite with him. 

Those times, the house feels too empty and your bitemark aches something fierce, a brand seared against your skin. Nightmares plague your sleep until your sheets are a tangle of sweat and tears. The cloudless blue skies and starry nights are further personal insults, mocking your heartache.

xiv.

It’s a tricky concept to wrap your head around, the idea that Joel had once been a human decades, perhaps centuries ago. Time isn’t something Black Dogs keep track of and Nightspyre’s historical archives are in the city hall’s basement which floods every other rainfall. He’s older than you, that’s something you can confidently say. Less confidently you can guesstimate he was probably in his late thirties when he was turned.

Your first year together you tried to piece together his story, pestering him with whatever question crossed your mind. Were you born here? What were your parents like? Any siblings? Hobbies? Your attempts proved mostly unrewarding though - his memories of that life are few and flimsy, giving him a headache if he thinks about them too long - and by now you’ve learned he prefers to make new memories than dwell in the past.

The day he knocked on your door becomes his birthday. He turns forty and who gives a fuck if it’s accurate or not, certainly not either of you. You celebrate with cake and ice cream topped with hot fudge.

“My mother used to make cake like this,” Joel says after swallowing a bite. You look at him, your own spoon hovering in front of your mouth, ice cream threatening to melt, but his eyes are glossed over, lost in a memory, and you can’t bring yourself to move, scared of disrupting the moment. “She added chocolate chips in it. Made it sweeter. She’d let me lick the batter from the spoon.”

An image of a young Joel forms unbiddenly in your mind. You can imagine him hovering at his mother’s side, waiting patiently as she scoops and pours and mixes the ingredients, how wide he’d grin when he finally got his prize, smearing chocolatey goodness across his mouth.

“Your ice cream’s melting,” Joel’s voice yanks you back to the present.

You blink a few times, reconciling the child in your head with the Alpha in front of you, then look down at your spoon where, sure enough, the ice cream’s more of a liquid than a solid, blending with the cake and fudge in a gooey swirl. You stick it in your mouth, not really tasting, not really thinking except -

Next year you’ll remember to buy chocolate chips.

xv.

A horde of ominously gray clouds accumulates on the horizon, blotting out the sun. Standing together on the balcony, Joel drapes himself over your backside, chin on your shoulder, both your gazes locked ahead.

“Death is becoming greedy,” you say, mouth coated in bitter venom. You don’t care if She overhears, so long as you carry his mark you’re untouchable. Not even Her powers can disentwine your souls. Where one goes, the other will follow - and she needs Joel too much at the moment to let him go just yet.

“It’s not Her. There’s something else poisoning the city, rotting it from the inside out…” Joel trails off, interrupted by the first drizzling drops of rain, the distant clap of thunder summoning his alternate form to the surface. His fingers flex against your waist, forcibly swallowing down the growl building in his chest with an audible gulp.

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

You don’t say tomorrow morning. Not anymore. It’s too specific, too painful when it doesn’t come true.

“See you in the morning,” he echoes, and gently turns your head, sealing the vow with a kiss. It’s chaste, sweet, foreheads coming to rest against each other, savoring the moment even as the rain pelts your skin and clothes. “Go on, get inside and get warmed up. And no matter what you hear—”

“Don’t go outdoors,” you finish, pressing one last kiss against his jaw. 

xvi.

Joel starts to age again. It’s a slow, gradual process for his body to remember what it means to be human. He still heals unnaturally fast, still answers Death’s call whenever there’s a soul to collect, but - 

There are flecks of gray peppered in his beard. Along his temples. They turn silver when the light hits them just right. Never once does he make an effort to shave them off or dye them. 

He needs glasses when he reads. It shouldn’t be possible yet somehow the dark frames make him look even hotter, especially late at night when they’re perched on the brim of his nose as those perfect lips silently mouth along with the words of whatever genre-of-the-week has snagged his attention.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” you ask abruptly one morning. Joel’s in the middle of peeling oranges, making an attempt at adding more fruit to both your diets, and the kitchen air is oversaturated with citrus. “Dying?”

His hands pause, pensive lines creasing his forehead. It’s a sign he’s thinking hard about his answer, giving it the necessary time to form and develop. You wait, perched on the kitchen stool, pushing your toes against the floor to keep your leg from bouncing anxiously.

“I already died once, remember? This,” he says, gesturing towards his gray hairs and then at the house as a whole. “This isn’t dying, Sass. Not for me.”

You lean forward with your arms upon the counter. “What is it for you then?”

He looks at you for a long second, soft and fond, and smiles. “This is me finally living.”

xvii.

Loving Joel is easy, you learn. As natural as waking up with the morning sun, as necessary as drawing breath into the depths of your lungs. You don’t believe much in fate or destiny, but there are moments where he looks at you, like he can’t believe you’re the one who's real, and it feels like it’s always supposed to have been you and him. 

“Of all the churches in all the world,” you quietly laugh under your breath one night, head resting on his stomach. 

His hand stills in the middle of stroking a warm line down your spine. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” you shift just enough to press a kiss against his sternum, smiling to yourself at the hitch of his breath. “Just thinking how lucky I am.”

Joel’s hand continues its movements again, but this time when it goes back up it carries on past your shoulder, pads of his fingers dipping into the teeth indentation marks there. 

And you know he’s thinking the same.

xviii.

Joel’s sliding home inside of you, all scorching heat and possessive growls, face buried against your neck. You wrap your arms tighter around his shoulders, nails cutting scratches deep into his skin, drawing blood. They’ll be gone before he’s done with you. Damn healing factor, a blessing and a curse.

“I want to be like you,” you murmur carelessly against the hinge of his jaw, mouthing a kiss that’s more tongue than lips.

“No,” Joel grunts, and then he’s moving back, pulling out of you. You whine, a pathetic and desperate high-pitched plea of an Omega trying to appease her Alpha, to call him back to fill the emptiness threatening to devour you alive. He ignores it, grabbing at your face with a large hand, forcing you to look at him, really look and fuck, you’ve never seen him like this before.

That emotion in his eyes, dark and gleaming and intense – it’s fear.

“You don’t want to be like me, Sass. You can never be like me,” Joel says, and he doesn’t even try to mask the tremble in his voice. “I won’t allow it.”

You reach a hand up, purposefully slow and obvious in its approach, and curl your fingers around his wrist. He loosens his hold instantly, exhaling a ragged, shuddering breath like you’ve stabbed him.

“Okay,” you say, and that’s all.

His face is wet when it buries against your neck again.

xix.

There’s a secluded house on the city outskirts, an unextraordinary two-story dwelling with a yellow front door and a stepping stone pathway, known to its pair of inhabitants simply as home. 

Most mornings you can be found in the front yard, humming a song from your youth while painting your next masterpiece. Joel will sit in the shade on the porch steps, coffee in hand, watching you watching the world. There are plans to build a greenhouse in the back, another hideaway to retreat to when the world feels just a bit too large. A bit too bloody.

xx.

“It’s going to hurt,” Joel warned you, six months after you’d first met, peppering kisses against your shoulder.

For as many strides as Nightspyre’s made keeping up with modern law changes and customs, out here amongst the untamable hills and freak electrical storms people remained convinced the best and safest life for an Omega was at an Alpha’s side.

Unclaimed Omegas didn’t last long in Nightspyre. If an Omega didn’t find a mate themselves, then one was found for them. Didn't matter if they didn't like each other, if their scents didn't match. Having an Alpha mate was an Omega's golden ticket to a better life - or, at the very least, a larger cage where the bars weren’t so easily seen.

“Not from you,” you panted, tilting your head to grant him more access. He was still an enigma to you, so many layers left to unwrap, but you knew there was no one else in the world you wanted more as your mate than him. No one else made you feel the way he did. “It won’t hurt if it’s from you.”

His hands pinned your arms down, making you gasp, and then - then there were sharp teeth slicing through skin, biting, claiming, intertwining your lives together irreversibly.

You were his. And he was yours.