#we finally get a name for Ash's father

[littlecarnet]

Some random little headcanons in my fic:

- Ash has his mom's eye color and facial shape. He got his dad's dark hair, nose, and darker skin, which gets freckled in the sun. The freckles he also gets from his dad.

- His father was originally raised in Johto, specifically Olivine. He was adopted by the Ketchum family after washing up on shore with no memory and with no one claiming him. His adoptive parents figured that he was the sole survivor of a cruise ship that sunk at sea. His memory loss was likely due to repressed trauma. Not being able to recall his own name, he was renamed to Daniel, though often went by Dan.

Dan's personality is very similar to Ash, so his memory loss didn't bother him too much. He fit right in with the maritime community, charming anyone he met with his inquisitive nature and boundless energy. Dan met Bill one summer during their teens. Bill's family were on holiday from Galar. The two clicked over their mutual interest in the mysteries of the world and creating inventions, and would correspond with each other over the years.

Dan met Delia who was on her way back home from Sinnoh (shortly after her near death experience on Mt. Coronet). She opened up to him about her past, and his concern for her and empathy left her stunned and smitten. She was the one to introduce him to Samuel Oak, who became part of the trio. Dan later left Olivine to move into the new lab on Cinnabar Island with Sam and Bill. Their projects were funded by Silph Co, Dan's in particular. It became their headquarters in studying mysterious phenomenon and Bill's teleportation project, though Dan later moved to Kanto to marry Delia and raise his son. He'd make trips back and forth from the island to the mainland every few months.

Dan and Sam built the home that he and Delia would live in. Delia expressed that she wanted a big family, so he planned that out by building four bedrooms. Sadly it would never come to pass after his untimely death/vanishing on the Cinnabar coastline. The incident was covered up with only Delia, Oak, and Bill knowing what really happened. To the public it was simply an unfortunate boating accident. All of Dan's research was taken as property of Silph Co and used in their technology. However, Delia has a lot of his unpublished papers in their study regarding the nature of the strange energy, what it does to both pokemon and human DNA, and its possible link to Arceus.

Bill learned a few years later about its effect on DNA after being changed into a pokemon, and though he turned back, it had unintended side effects such as being able to understand pokemon and unusually enhanced night vision, proving his DNA had been altered or possibly mutated. But he keeps this a secret as he doesn't trust Silph Co or Devon. Silph Co essentially claimed Dan's research as their own, and Devon has an issue with corporate espionage, once with Team Meteor, and another in Ryme City involving Howard Clifford's schemes.

Prior to his disappearance, Dan was a loving husband to Delia and a wonderful father to Ash, often indulging their shared sweet tooth, much to Delia's annoyance. Though he'd get on her good side buying her a favorite treat, a marshmallow pie. The family would visit Olivine and Rota, flip flopping every year so Ash can spend time with both sides of the family.

Their home had a small battle platform in the backyard. Ash's parents loved a good battle, and playfully competed with each other. Delia however was definitely more competent due to her extensive training in Team Rocket, and ultimately was the one to teach Ash everything he knows. Ash's father often said she was just as formidable in debates with him as well, especially with the topic of the deities of their world. He wasn't convinced just legendary pokemon could harness such incredible power, but humans could possibly do so too. Which led to the research in Missingno and its link to the very energy of creation.

One mystery that haunted him was his origins. Who was he before his memory loss. What was his original name, who were his parents, and where was his original home. The research from the Aether Foundation, which Sam shared with him with once, led him down into the study of wormholes. He began to wonder if he was a Faller, a person from another dimension that was misplaced by a wormhole. Which might explain why no one could find his identity and why he had no records of his existence.

[this-world-of-beautiful-monsters]

drives me glass-eating batshit how Claudia and Amadeo were both teenagers rescued (or "rescued") from violently traumatic situations and taken in by paternal gentlemen vampires who taught them about the world and kept them safe and spoiled them rotten and loved them so so so much in profoundly unhealthy and dehumanizing ways. Claudia and Arun both entering the vampiric world as blank slates (like Claudia remembers her pre-turning past but we only get the barest details, it's hardly ever mentioned) and a wash of divinity, angel imagery and merciful gods. then as Claudia and Amadeo grew they started to pick up on the things that were off in their world and display aggressive behavior (Claudia's killing spree and Amadeo's The Shining moment, etc.) only to be physically punished for it. and then they experience the brutalities of life outside their maker's protection (Claudia under the floorboards and Armand under Rome) except she's able to come back home hardened and confront the realities of what's been done to her while Armand never gets that chance, he's stuck with the Children of Darkness, he's stuck deifying Marius, he's stuck clinging to ritual and tradition and all the things Claudia defies like breathing.

and then they finally cross paths and they're inverted mirrors of each other, Claudia the grown woman desperate to escape her teenager's body and Armand the grown man who wants to be loved and precocious and fascinating like he was as a teenager. Claudia being able to effortlessly pull off the veneer of innocence that Armand has to work so hard to maintain and she's not even grateful for it. she's got the youth he wants, she's got Louis's love, she's more free than Armand has ever been, she fought back against her Maker and got away with it, it's not Fair, it isn't right. so Armand punishes her with it, subjects her to the same cycle of objectification and dehumanization and violence that Amadeo went through (because it could be Worse right, he could be Donating her right). and when that's not enough to make up for everything he's missing he fucking kills her in an elaborate show just like she killed Lestat with the elaborate show that was Mardi Gras, only his writings recording the process damn him just like her writings damn her, their need to leave some mark of themselves above all else consuming everything.

and after killing her Armand spends years dragging around with a Louis who hates him just like Louis dragged around with a Claudia who hated him. he's the good nurse for Louis the way Claudia was and he competes with Lestat's ghost the way she did and he watches a fragile life with flowers growing from dead things all come crashing down in ash and dust like she did, all because of what he did to her. and at the end of the day they're both fucked-up kids whose most commonly used last names stem from the fathers who fucked them up and they could have lived each other's lives and in some ways they almost did.

[jamminvroomvroom]

our secret moments.

ln x fem!reader // childhood friend to lovers

in which you’re friends. best friends. but then you buy a dress for him to take off.

this one is for you guys. thank you for inspiring this, my beloved dress anons. i hope you guys love this as much as i do, and that i got it right for you! obsessed with the concepts and brain rot that went into this aaaaaaa lemme know what you think i beg <3 also sorry if the formatting gets weird, trying out smau elements again :D

songs to set the mood: DRESS by taylor swift

warnings: 18+!! minors dni! smut, oblivious friends to lovers, fluff, minor angst, mutual pining, general sex acts, language, an argument

5.6k words

-

your dress sparkles like a mirrorball as the lights flash along the strip.

vegas week begins with a bang; it’s the night of lando’s 24th birthday. the name of your dad’s company is plastered all over the city, as it usually is wherever there’s a race weekend. a round of golf leads to dinner plans and you get dressed up nice with your girlfriends.

you’re almost ready when lando texts you, your friends giving you a look that you brush off when they see the papaya heart next to his name. you tell him you’ll all be ready soon, that’ll you meet him and the boys in the lobby.

high heels sound against the marble floor of the hotel. you walk confidently, tall, scanning for the group of men you’ll be spending the evening with. you spot max fewtrell first, your dear friend here for the occasion, and then ash, who has his back to you. it’s because he’s talking to lando, your best friend, the man that made you fly in to sin city a week earlier than you would have liked.

he’s looking at you before you even see him, watching you walk towards him over ash’s shoulder. he’s checked out from the conversation the second he spots you, glittering under the chandeliers. he can’t breathe, because you’re wearing a dress that renders him somewhere between life and death.

but you’re getting closer, and max, who can see the look on lando’s awestruck face, nudges him so hard in the ribs. he forces himself to inhale, smile, keep breathing.

“good evening, mr norris.” you grin, squeezing his shoulder. “we starting with slots or drinks?”

both is the agreed upon answer, and you let loose in the casino. you watch him roll the dice at one of the game tables, and suddenly, you’re twelve years old again, playing board games on the floor of a hotel room, while your dads talk at the bar downstairs.

your father is, perhaps, the worlds biggest motorsport fan. he’d been sponsoring different series’ since you were little, and he hadn’t stopped expanding as you’d gotten older. that’s how you’d met lando, aged ten years old with braids in your hair, covered in mud, somewhere in the english countryside. you’d been going to kart races since you could walk, and you were sure from the first time you spoke to the small british boy that you’d be destined to meet him. he’d left a mark on you that day, something golden; he radiated sunshine.

your friendship flowed like wine over the years, nice and easy. time on the road with your father meant that lando was the friend you saw the most, and it stayed that way throughout your teenage years. lando’s step up into formula 1 was paired very well with your dad’s investment into mclaren, and five years later, you rarely missed a race.

lando was so easy to be friends with that it was only natural that he was just as easy to love. platonically. you loved him platonically. it was easy to have late night dinner’s with him in his hotel room, easy to walk around the cities you visited with him until your legs hurt, easy to fall asleep on his bed after a netflix binge. so when he told you to pack your bags and be in vegas, it was like he’d pulled an invisible string, because of course, that’s where you would be.

your friend is waving her hand in front of your face when you finally snap out of it. you’ve been staring across the room for god knows how long, and now the girls are laughing at you.

okay, so maybe it’s not just platonically, but you’d rather die than admit it.

“still gonna tell us there’s nothing between you?” nancy, one of your closest friends, teases. your other friend, mia, is giggling beside her. they’d both flown out for the race as well, and had spent the last two years helplessly watching you fall harder and faster.

“shut up,” you whine. “he’s my-“

“best friend.” they both cut you off in unison, mockingly. nancy rolls her eyes.

“he is!” you protest, waving them off.

you leave them in the dust to join the lads at the table. lando’s arm is draped over your shoulder the second you arrive.

“lost your millions yet?” you whisper into his ear. he tuts in response, knowing grin on his face.

“you have no faith in me, honey.” he bumped your hip with his as he spoke.

the game continues, and somehow, much to your surpise, lando gets richer. the walk from the casino to the club is short, and soon enough, you’re drunk and sweating under strobe lights. rounds and rounds of shots disappear and you sink deeper and deeper into the booth you’d reserved.

you let the music thrum through your body, closing your eyes in contentment. a knee nudges yours, and you open your eyes to see lando sliding into the booth next to you. he hands you a drink, and you mouth him a thank you.

“got your eye on anyone here?” lando’s head is resting in the crook of your neck when he asks. it’s obviously just so that you can hear him.

you pull back from him, scanning his face for a moment, really taking him in. the slope of his nose, curls matted on his forehead, grey blue eyes that you swear flit to your lips for just a second. just a brief second. you smile, soft and tired.

“nope.” you mouth back to him. “you?”

lando returns your smile, mirroring you perfectly. he shakes his head.

it’s around 3:30am when you crave the sweet release of sleep. your feet are aching and your head is throbbing. no questions are asked when lando offers you a piggyback ride.

you ignore the way your friends look at you both when he carries you up to your room.

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youruser: sin city for nozza’s birthday

user: are they together?

otheruser: mother?

landonorris: lost millions.

user2: the photo of the dress next to the photos of lando? she’s tryna tell us something i think.

and 444 other comments

-

you ignore the nausea pooling in the pit of your belly.

apparently, the medical centre isn’t that far away when you sprint there. harsh fluorescent lights greet you when you burst through the door, searching for a mop of curls and a burst of orange. your eyes find adam, lando’s dad, and you rush to his side.

“is he okay?” something about the fear in your eyes makes adam crack a smile. it seems there’s no hiding how you feel from anyone except lando.

“they’re just checking him over now, think they might take him to the hospital, just to be safe.” adam explains. “he was asking for you.” he smiles again.

“so it’s just precautionary?” you ignore the last bit. you ignore the way it makes your stomach twist and your brain fight to keep a smile off of your face.

“you can see him, if you want.” adam gestures towards the nearest examination room.

you’re gone before he can say anything more, bursting into the room without even thinking of knocking.

lando’s pretty much stoned. god knows what they gave him but it seems to be working; he’s propped up on the bed, cracks a sleepy smile when he sees you.

“hey, pretty girl.” he drawls, waving slowly. you pray you’re not blushing.

“scared me out there, you prick.” you joke, but your voice shakes.

“c’mere.” he frowns, so you walk around his bed. he slaps the small spot next to him clumsily, and you perch on the edge of the bed.

lando grabs your hand, pulling you in closer, eyelids drooping as he does it.

“i’m sorry, honey. always wanna race well for you.” lando is pouting. he’s fucking pouting at you.

“hey, hey, it’s fine! as long as you’re okay.”

he nods like a child being told off, but he doesn’t drop your hand. he doesn’t drop it in the helicopter to the hospital, either.

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youruser: alls well that ends well (but i’m in a new hell every time you go to the hospital)

landonorris: whoops?

user1: THE TAYLOR LYRICS HELLO?

user44: do y’all think we can’t see you.

user2: 3RD SLIDE HELLO?

yourfriendnancy: anyway. the dress ate.

otheruser: @ yourfriendnancy WHAT DO YOU KNOW

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-

“i just don’t get why you keep wearing the fucking shoes if they hurt so much.” lando bumps your shoulder with his, teasing you.

“sometimes you do what you gotta do for the ‘fit.” you huff, trying to keep up with him.

you’re on your way to dinner with lando, marking your first night in dubai. the restaurant isn’t too far, but your shoes are simply not cooperating. you’d left lando to book a table, knowing that a name drop from him would mean good food and not too many people there to watch you both eat it. after vegas, the rumour mill was working overtime, and you’d had a headache for two days as a result.

none of your other friends have arrived in the emirates yet, so it leaves just the two of you to hang out. it’s something you usually love to do, but after the whirlwind of the last few days, it makes your tummy twist.

you can’t stop thinking about the hospital, your hand in his, the way he’d demanded you accompany him despite the presence of his literal father. you absolutely can’t stop thinking about “pretty girl” or the lazy smile on his face when he said it, like it was what he always called you. he usually sticks to honey, not the most platonic thing in the world, but he said it once and it just stuck.

you’re pulled out of your downward spiral by the way he suddenly comes to a stop in the middle of the pavement. you look at him confused, but then he’s making a suggestion that makes you want to lay done in front of an oncoming ferrari.

“want me to carry your shoes? you can put them on right before we go in.” lando shrugs. you must be blushing by the way he fights off a smile.

“lando, i cannot walk down the streets of dubai shoeless.” you scowl. he chuckles.

“says who? give ‘em here. you can wear mine if you want.” lando reasons, and after staring at him likes he’s grown a second head, you cave.

you start to crouch down but he beats you to it. your breath hitches in your throat when his fingers graze your ankle. you watch in shocked silence as he undoes each clasp, letting you step out of the shoes. the pavement is relatively cool under your feet, and it snaps you out of your state. you decline his offer of his own shoes, and he’s started walking again when you stop him.

“lando, why are you doing this?”

“you took good care of me last weekend. least i can do.” he tells you, and you nod once. “c’mon, we’re gonna be late.” he ushers you along and you walk the rest of the way in silence, silver heels swinging in his hand.

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youruser: dinner w bestie

user: lando took this. bet.

user3: her other friends aren’t in abu dhabi yet she has to be with lando

landonorris: how was dinner?

youruser: @ landonorris u tell me.

user4: a date if i ever saw one?

user63: are we sure they’re not just friends?

user4: @ user63 girl. be so fr

and 329 other comments

-

the restaurant is licensed, so you find solace in a glass of white wine. lando sticks to water.

your mains arrive and you natter back and forth, discussing the end of the season and any gossip you may have acquired. you barely stop laughing, head thrown back every time he opens his mouth. it feels easy again, and you find yourself thawing out, previous worries shoved to the back of your mind.

“so what’s next year looking like? last year of your degree.” lando wiggles his eyebrows, wearing a hint of pride on his face.

“might have to stay away from race tracks for a while. it’s gonna be a busy year.” you sigh. his face obviously falls.

“how long is a while? need my cheerleader.” it’s said in jest, but desperation lies in the outskirts of his voice.

“until the summer break.” you frown. you’d gotten far too comfortable studying on the road.

“can’t you continue as you are? i’m gonna mis- your dad will miss you.” lando corrects himself and your fork clatters against your plate.

“can’t get rid of me too easily, norris.” you clean up the awkward mess before it can even become one, returning to the lighter side of the conversation.

“trust me, i’m not trying to.” he flirts. in jest.

you roll your eyes and gulp down wine.

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youruser: new heights n pretty lights

user2: i know who took 3/4 of these pics.

landonorris: i want that hat back btw

user6: she is the moment

user: mommy? huh who said that?

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lando.jpg: from the road

oscarpiastri: violation.

youruser: can u send me these. especially the one of oscar :)

user4: WAIT didn’t she post the second one a while? LANDO TOOK IT?

user81: oscar 😭😭

maxfewtrell: why don’t you take nice pictures of me like this?

user11: the wags are fighting omg

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-

your back is to his chest and the music is unbearable. it doesn’t stop you from swaying your hips against his.

nothing beats the abu dhabi grand prix’s after party.

lando stays p6 in the championship, but it’s only by one stupid point. celebration is certainly called for, and you bask in the freedom of the season ending.

you don’t even want to think about the way he hugged you when he got out of the damn car.

so you don’t. you drink and you dance and you beg for someone else to try and take you home so that you can avoid him. you’re scared, fucking terrified, and avoiding him seems like the best option.

that’s until he finds you in the sea of people, because of course he does, and you get closer, closer, closer, until there’s no room for god and his hands are on your hips.

it feels too fucking good to stop, you can’t even compute pulling away, so you let yourself go. what’s the point in trying to hide the way you feel when he’s holding you against his crotch? ah, yes. a cornerstone of friendship.

but it’s too hot and it’s too bright and it’s too loud and the anxiety hits. it hits and you can’t stop the way you freeze up against him. you’re sick to death of pretending. you’re sick to death of nights like this one repeating themselves far too often, only to wake up in the morning and act like it means nothing. like the way he holds you and looks at you and touches you means nothing.

no matter how drunk he is, no matter how far gone he is, he knows you too damn well. he’s spinning you around in his arms and pulling you through the hoards of people.

cool air lands on your flushed skin and you realise you’re in the smoking area. lando looks wrecked, but he’s watching you as intently as he can manage.

“you okay, honey? want me to take you home?” he’s rubbing your arm as he speaks and tears well in your eyes. you’re not entirely sure why.

“stay, i don’t wanna ruin your night.” you croak. you need to get out of there immediately.

“no, no, no, you’re my priority, i’ll call us a driver and w-“

“stop it, lando. i can go back to the hotel alone.” he looks bewildered, and you don’t blame him. you sound harsh, way too harsh considering what he’d offered.

“i should take you.” he replies quietly and you feel bad.

great, now you are crying.

“just- i don’t want this to change, i don’t want us to change and if you keep on like this-“

alas, everything changes, then. every unsaid word is fair game and neither of you are holding back. the shots you’ve thrown back fuel an explosion.

“if i keep on like this? what, you think i don’t see the way you look at me?” lando’s words hit like venom and you’re white hot with embarrassment.

fiery despair hits you and you’re bound to regret every word when you’re sober and sane.

“at least i don’t fuck with your head.”*

“you think that doesn’t fuck with my head? the one woman i- fuck, you know what? it doesn’t matter.” he bites his tongue but you most certainly don’t.

“what? what, lando? as if the way i look at you compares to carrying my shoes and putting me to bed and calling me pretty and every other thing that you do to drive me up the fucking wall.” you spit.

your tears burn your cheeks, you’ve always been an angry crier, and they fall faster when he practically deflates and turns away, disappearing into the club.

you make your getaway, your father’s assistant sends you a car.

you cry yourself to sleep in your hotel room, watching the orange sun rise.

-

the flight home is quiet.

your plans to fly home with lando are abandoned, and you board the earliest flight available.

you never fight with him, so you don’t know how to proceed. everything had changed in a matter of words and you ignore the lump in your throat when you land in miserable, rainy london alone.

you’re surprised to see your dad’s blacked out range rover waiting for you when you get through customs. he’d been on the first flight out of the emirates as soon as the race had finished, and you assumed he’d be asleep for at least a day or two. the man never rests during the season, from the minute the lights go out in bahrain, until the flag falls in abu dhabi. then, he biblically crashes, the excitement and adrenaline hibernating until next year. average behaviour for the world’s biggest motorsport fan.

he’s out the car and opening the boot for you before you even reach him, and he’s pulling you into his fatherly embrace when you finally do. you let out a shaky breath, having been in desperate need of a hug.

“hey, kid.” he mutters into your ear. maybe it’s good to be home.

“what are you doing here?” you ask from the passenger seat, once all of your luggage is packed into the car.

your dad sighs, turning to look at you. you groan, thudding your head against the headrest. you know that look, the one that precedes a motivational speech, a bit of tough love, and usually very sound advice that you never ask for.

“lando called me.” he deadpans. they’d grown somewhat annoyingly close over the years.

“fantastic.” you reply, sarcasm as clear as day.

“he was beside himself. told me what happened.” your dad says softly and you squeeze your eyes shut.

“it’s so, so fine. i don’t wanna talk about this.” your voice trembles and you don’t have the energy to cry anymore.

“there’s nothing wrong with telling him how you feel, sweetheart. don’t throw something away because you’re scared.” and, here we go… you think.

“i can’t lose him.” you whisper, furiously wiping away the stray tears that fall, staring out the window.

“you won’t lose him if you tell him. trust me, kid. we all see how that boy adores you. no father ever thinks a guy is good enough for their girl, but lando comes pretty damn close.”

“i don’t even know where to begin.” you rub your temples, battling the tension headache you’d developed sometime the night before.

“well, start thinking. you’ve got a week.” you can see your dad smirking from the corner of your eye.

“what?” you blurt, blindsided. you’d need more than a fucking week.

“end of year gala, kid. pick a dress.”

fuck.

-

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youruser: commotion for the dress?

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user5: on my knees begging

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mclaren: always good to see you! 🧡

yourfriendnancy: kicking my feet looking at this lord have mercy

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-

you’re glowing, draped in champagne pink silk.

from the other side of the room, you watch lando, and he watches you. it’s like a game, who’s gonna break first? who’s going to extend the olive branch?

he looks so pretty in his suit that you would cry if there were any tears left in you, if you hadn’t purged them all out of frustration and longing in the week of radio silence.

you’re nursing a glass of champagne, waiting for dinner to start. the room is full of rich people with big ideas, icons of the racing world, both past and present. you make small talk with oscar and his girlfriend, exchange pleasantries with your father’s many friends, and beg that lando makes the first move.

the clinking against a glass indicates that dinner is ready to be served, and you scan the tables for your place card. apparently, the event coordinator has a vendetta against you, because scrawled in deep orange cursive on the place card next to yours is mr lando norris. you scan the room for the nearest exit. your grand scheme to flee in a floor length gown and too high heels is interrupted by the sound of your chair scraping out next to you.

you feel a ghost of breath against your bare shoulder. curls tickle your skin and then, a head rests in the crook of your neck.

he says your name, and the world stops for a second.

“i’m sorry.” lando whispers in your ear, and your heart falls to your stomach.

you whip around, holding him tight as you wrap your arms around him. the tension plaguing your body since abu dhabi dissipates in seconds.

“don’t apologise. just… i missed you.” you sigh.

“you look… fuck. you’re gorgeous.” he breathes in your ear. one hand skims low over your waist. something inside of you explodes.

you don’t even try to fight the blush that tinges your cheeks.

someone important is trying to make a toast, so you take your seats. you’re not listening to a word being said, though. you just smile at lando, and lando smiles back.

you’re gonna tell him, you decide. he has to know, although you suspect he already does; you can’t imagine another day without the privilege of him looking at you the way he is right now.

dinner is a breeze. you eat, drink, laugh at the stories exchanged. you remember why you love this world you were raised in, and find yourself grinning mindlessly at your father as he rattles off yet another wild tale from your travels. you’re lucky, you know you are, and it’s reaffirmed when the man sat beside you - who you think you love a bit more than platonically - drapes his arm over the back of your chair.

plates are cleared away and a band starts their set on the makeshift stage. the mtc is lit so beautifully, fairy lights twinkle above you casting dainty light over the makeshift dance floor.

“dance with me.” lando requests. he hates to dance at these functions, so you know the request comes from the heart.

“lead the way.”

he takes your hand and you make your way onto the floor, which is slowly filling up with other couples. his hold is firm, yet gentle, and you lean into him as he keeps you close. eventually, your ear is to his chest, and you can hear his heart hammering away. you melt further into him as the song plays out, and you wish it would play forever.

“we gonna talk about it?” lando murmurs, just loud enough over the music.

“we are.” you mumble against the lapel of his jacket.

“come home with me.”

you nod, inhaling the scent of his cologne; god, how you missed every little part of him.

you keep dancing and dancing, until the champagne runs out and the band starts to pack up.

-

the door slams softly behind you.

lando takes your coat, and you drop your bag on his coffee table. when you turn around to find him, he’s stood in the doorway watching you. there is so much to say, but you can barely form a thought.

“i can’t take this any longer.” lando tells you.

your breath hitches in your throat.

“neither can i.” you whisper.

“we can be more.”

“what do you want us to be?” your chest is tight and you’re looking at him so fucking intensely, desire as clear as day in your eyes.

“you know what i want. and i know you want it too.” he walks towards you slowly as he speaks, footsteps punctuating each word.

“i need to hear you say it.” you breathe. you’re shaking; you’re not sure if it’s the anticipation or the way you’re holding yourself back.

“all i want, all i ever wanted, is you.” he’s right in front of you and his hands are on your waist. you’re tingling everywhere.

lando’s nose bumps yours. you’re scanning his face, every line, freckle, slope that maps him out. he can’t help but look at your lips, darkened eyes flitting over your face. all you can hear is shaky breaths, and perhaps your heartbeat ringing in your ears.

“can i…?” lando mutters.

you close the gap some more, lips brushing his.

“of course you can.”

he kisses you like he’ll die if he doesn’t. his hands cup your cheeks and yours find his neck, gently pressing your fingertips into his skin. lando’s frantic, passionate, oh so careful as he deepens the kiss, pulling you somehow closer. you hum in surprise, and you feel him smirking. he’s moving hungrily, and you’re starving, impatient when your hands find his curls. the groan he emits at the sensation makes you ache for him all over.

you’re both panting when you pull away, the urgency to breathe the only thing stopping you. the relief you feel is astronomical, your lips lock perfectly and he feels wondrous under your explorative hands. he smiles wide and you grip his collar, pressing your forehead against his.

“i was gonna tell you, and then you turned up looking like this… fuck.” lando groans, and you can’t help but lean up into him once more.

the kiss is slower this time, languid, and he licks slowly into your mouth. his pupils are blown when you break apart and his eyes flutter open. your thighs clench under your dress.

“so, you like the dress?” you giggle incredulously, buzzing from the interaction. lando looks at you like you’re stupid.

“you look…” he runs his eyes over you, pausing mid sentence tentatively.

“say it.”

“fucking incredible.”

“thanks. bought it with you in mind.” you tease, smirking coyly.

his jaw goes slack; you can see him mentally undressing you, and then he’s kissing you all over again.

his bedroom isn’t far, but he insists on carrying you there, sweeping you up into his arms. he peppers kisses over your neck, kicking the door open with his dress shoe.

lando places you on your feet at the foot of his bed, smoothing his hands over the curve of your waist, the silk of your dress. he tucks your hair behind your ears, drawing you close once more as he does, cupping your face in large, calloused hands.

“what do you want tonight?” lando asks, searching your face for any sign of hesitancy.

“need you. all of you.” you keen into his touch, and his breath hitches in his throat.

“we’ll go slow.” he murmurs.

“no.” you shake your head, and his hands drop from your face. “don’t want to hold back anymore.” he finds your ass, grazing his fingers upwards until he finds the fastening of your dress. you maintain eye contact while he drags the zip down, shivering as your hear the faint buzz of the metal.

lando stops, just for a second in an attempt to compose himself.

“take it off. bought it so that you could take it off.” your brutal honesty breathes some urgency into him.

he keeps his eyes on yours as the silk falls off your body, pooling at your feet. the cool air brushes your skin - covered only by lacy panties and stilettos - but his touch warms you when he grabs your waist. lando walks you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the foot of the bed. he places you on the bed, on top of you like a shot, kissing you into the mattress.

he clambers off of you, sliding down your body until he reaches your heels. kisses trail up your legs while he takes them off, the thud of them hitting the floor making you jump. anticipation pools in your barely there underwear; he can see you, all of you, and he cannot bring himself to look away.

“careful with those, they were expensive.” you joke, but your voice sounds wrecked already. you can’t even imagine how you’ll sound when he’s done.

“i have different priorities right now.” he flashes a grin and you lose him between your legs.

your underwear stay on when he dives into your pussy, teeth scraping over your covered folds. he can definitely taste you already, stuttering out a moan as he casts his tongue over you. you sink deep into the sheets, bucking your hips into his face, but his hold on you is firm and you have to relent. he lets go of you for a moment, just to pull your panties down, and as soon as they’re gone, he’s delving deep into you.

the sounds he’s making are obscene, his entire face buried away. lando flicks his tongue over your clit, beginning an extended assault on your nerve endings, sucking hard and fast until you whimper his name. a knot forms in your core.

lando takes his mouth off of you, lips slick and glistening. he swipes his tongue over them, sitting back on his haunches. he begins rolling his sleeves up, and you manage to push yourself up so that you’re resting on your elbows. you reach out to toy with the buttons of his dress shirt, leaving his torso exposed to you. you rake your nails over his abs, transfixed on the way he tenses, shudders under your touch. once his sleeves are out of his way, he pushes you back. your hair fans out around you as he resumes his position between your legs.

one finger ghosts over your clit, poking and tracing the bud. you’re reeling, writhing at the feeling of everything and almost nothing at all. he drags the digit down until he finds your entrance, abandoning the teasing and slipping it inside of you. he twists his wrist, adding a second finger, grinding them deep. he’s slow with it, watches the way your face twists in euphoria, finding a deep sense of pride in the way he makes you shake.

“you have no fucking idea how long i’ve wanted to do this.” his words have you clamping down on him, fucking yourself onto his hand.

“the feeling’s mutual.” you gasp.

lando cocks an eyebrow. he scales your body until he’s hovering over you again, fingers still working in and out of you. the angle change is delightful, your back arching and your nipples harden as they skim his bare chest.

“is it, honey? was it mutual all those nights i pictured you next to me, right on this bed? all those nights i watched you dance in your short skirts? all those nights i carried you to bed and wished i could stay?” he whispers right into your ear. his fingers speed up.

“fuck, lando. yes.” you cry, mouth hanging slack.

“tell me. tell me how mutual it was and i’ll let you come, pretty girl.” he teases; goosebumps litter your skin. there he goes again with pretty girl. this fucking man.

“always wanted more… was too scared to ask for it.”

“oh?” he coos, mockingly.

“couldn’t lose you if you didn’t want me.” you pant. a weight lifts off your chest as you let the words slip, his efforts sending you hurtling towards an orgasm.

“not going anywhere.” he kisses the base of your throat. “ever.” he punctuates, thumb sliding over your clit. “let go, love.”

the wave of pleasure crashes on your shores and it doesn’t stop, rippling through your belly and down into your toes. lando’s name falls from your lips like a sin, over and over until you can’t even hear yourself anymore.

lando’s smiling when you come down, small and knowing. he pecks your lips, once, twice, humming into the kiss when your hands find a home under his shirt. it’s unbuttoned already, so it slides over his bronzed shoulders easily. you hear it thud softly when it hits the floor.

“what?” you catch him looking at you, giddy.

“i can’t believe we’re doing this.” he grins. his words overwhelm you.

“i know.” you beam up at him bashfully.

he undresses himself and then the wait is over, and god knows it was a long one. he finds home between your thighs, runs his cock through your folds.

“you sure?”

“don’t make me wait any longer.” you insist.

it takes you a moment to adjust; he strokes your walls nice and deep and you feel everything he has to offer you. it’s surreal, really, stretching around him like this. you’d only ever daydreamed of the possibility, and now that it’s happening you can’t quite believe it. he moans low, forehead resting on yours. you watch his eyes roll back when he bottoms out.

your lip is quivering; it’s too intense, he’s too good. he takes it slow, just like he’d insisted, but he grinds deep, long strokes making you dizzy. you leave imprints of crescents in his shoulder blades, marking his pristine skin.

you can’t take much more of this, his hips hitting yours at such a delectable pace. he drags in and out, building a blissful rhythm and you’re whimpering into his neck. your teeth dig into the muscled plane of skin, minimal pressure applied, and his thrusts turn erratic, curses tumbling freely from his pink parted lips. it makes you squirm, spilling all over him, white hot and wet.

lando collapses into your damp body, the room is humid. you drag your nails through his hair, pushing the sweat slicked curls off of his forehead, and then your hand thuds lazily against the pillow.

“i’m done pretending.” he mumbles. “i’m yours.”

the last few years of your life flash before your eyes. you think back to his buzz cut and every time you’d failed to rebound. you think of bleached hair and lies about love and how he always saw the best in you. you think of nothing but him, you, together. he’s carved into you now, you think he always has been.

you fall asleep happy. you’ll wake up by his side and then you’ll do it the morning after, and the one after that too.

-

youruser just posted on instagram

liked by landonorris, mclaren, francisca.gomez, lilymhe and 735,641 others

youruser: our secret moments

landonorris: “only bought this dress so you could take it off” 🕺🏻✨💘

youruser: @ landonorris omg shut up (omw over)

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-

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[yona049]

𝕻𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖔𝖒 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕺𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖆 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

Part 1

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

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Disclaimer!

This is a story following the events after the Phantom of the Opera (2004) and only follows the movie and not any other adaptations!

Started with this fic a few years ago and finally continued bc I couldn't find any new fic's to read! 🥺

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

(For ambiance~)

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Y/n stood with her feet planted infront of the burning Palais Garnier opera house, the ashes of a once red stage curtain falling on her bare shoulders. The only bit of warmth was the costume she was wearing.

A red fire dancer, her hair still in perfect shape. Tho it seems that the other staff of the Opera house weren't as lucky.

Her home was burning down infront of her eyes, and snow did nothing but usher on the burning flames of rage.

This was the doing of one Phantom of the opera. The damned demon took it all from them, their home, their jobs and even Christine Daaé.

The lead singer and great musician that made Y/n dance like never before, Christine's sweet melody made her feet float inches from the ground as her soul danced in sync with her body.

One shiver crawled up Y/n's spine when she heard an unghastly scream. Her feet simply lept to it, only to find a man crawling out of the burning opera house.

"Monsieur!" she cried out to him.

His face seemed to have already been caught by the fire and he barely wore anything but a shirt and his trousers. Y/n fell to her knees beside his weak body.

"Don't worry, Monsieur, you are out of the fire! Please, be still! You are injured. "

She trembled watching blood force its way through the thin gaps between the snowflakes. Blood still warm enough to melt and merge with ice to water.

In a desperate attempt, Y/n pulls off the bottom part of her dancing grown and desperately looked for the point of injury when she finally found the wound on the calve on his leg.

Tieing it tightly before Y/n hoisted him up to his feet.

"Please lean on me, we need to get further from the flames!"

He didn't speak, only grunted in pain. His voice was deep, without effort as if he was willing to Perish without hesitation.

Y/n took a moment to gently touch his burnt skin on his face, he didn't seem to whine. It was as she thought, the wound was not from the fire that had engulfed many others in its treacherous flames.

She shakes herself awake and quickly focuses on the problem at hand.

"I have strength to carry you, but you'll need to carry your consciousness for a little while longer!" she shutted, her voice swelling with pity for him.

'What happened to this poor soul?' She wondered and dragged his feet though the snow.

Y/n didn't know his name, nor his origin from the opera house. Perhaps a operator for the theater special effects? Or perhaps a member of the audience, sitting among the red velvet seats and nearly getting crushed by the chandelier falling loose from its hinges.

It wasn't long after when Y/n and the other performers were taken to a nearby inn. Perhaps it was the will of a greater power that the Opera managers didn't leave them to rot on the streets. Rather to reclaim insurance funds or come around a lone?

At least, she hoped that was the case. But for the moment, she was afraid of what might happen.

The opera house had been home for the last eighteen years of Y/n's life. No, certainly more!

Her father was a dancer, and her mother's legacy had been lost among the chatter and rumors of the opera.

Y/n's father had passed when she was only ten. Now, she was eighteen years older and she promised to follow in his dancing steps to fame.

Still engulfed in her thoughts Y/n stared into the small oil lamp flames while she sat on the bed of the inn. The figure of a woman danced in the red and orange colors.

This seemed to distract her from the man waking up from his exhausted slumber behind her.

He winced with a grumble when Y/n's head turned to face him. His palm covering the burn on his face that she saw before.

"Monsieur?" she whispered in an effort not to frighten him.

His gaze slowly trailed to Y/n's worried expression, but his palm never left his face.

Y/n took this opportunity to explain their predicament.

"Please, do not be frightened. We're in an inn, the managers have sent us to wait until they can reclaim funds."

She stood up to take the bowl of water and cloth to dampen the burnt flesh on the man's face.

She knelt down beside the bed and lightly lifted the damp cloth to his face. His eyes met hers, but Y/n only stared in silence hoping he'd understand her efforts.

Tho he was hesitant, his palm lightly lifted from his face. She feared the wound was still hissing with pain. Lightly the cloth is placed onto his eye and he gave a simple sigh of relief.

Silence filled the room, it would've seemed like only the stars were their witness if it weren't for the drunken cheers from the bar below.

Finally the man took a breath and spoke.

"What of Christine Daaé? Has she been found?"

Y/n's breathing seemed to betray her when her body couldn't fathom the gentle voice the man muttered. She tried to form words, creating a stutter.

"Y-yes, it um, It seems she has been retrieved by the Viscount Raoul de Chagny. She has offered many services to those who did not escape the flames unscathed." she whispered and willed herself to not look into his captivating eyes.

He looks to the side and gives a simple smile, seeming satisfied with his thought.

As soon as his skin was dampened once more he tried to stand with a gasply hiss of pain.

"Monsieur, please be patient! Your wound is still open and fresh!"

He grits his teeth before taking his seat again but looking back at the fireplace.

The rest of the night remained quiet, like he didn't have need to ask her anymore questions.

An awkward night spent sharing a room with a stranger. He fell asleep quickly with exhaustion.

Y/n couldn't sleep. Things ended so abruptly! How could she? Her love died in the fire, her home, belongings. She had nothing to her name anymore.

Y/n quietly stood up from the bed trying to keep noises to a minimum. Avoiding the creeking floor boards and opening the window to look outside.

The smoke from the Opera house covered the sky, no moon in sight. This quiet moment with her thoughts caused her throat to close up and her eyes to push tears.

As quietly as she could, she tried crying everything out, to no avail. Morning her loss took more than just a moment of soft tears.

"I'm sorry my love, Aloïs, I couldn't save you!"

She whispered. Her lover in the theater house had been burnt in the flames because he pushed her away from falling beams.

"Aloïs?"

She gasped when the voice lurks from behind her caught her off guard. The man stood up from the bed and had walked to right behind her without her hearing him.

"Monsieur! I'm so sorry, did I wake you?"

He shakes his head before spotting Y/n's shivers. Looking back at the blanket on the bed, he grabs it with one hand and swings it across her shoulders.

A gentleman! Y/n wasn't sure many workers from the Opera were quite so kind.

"You knew my Aloïs?"

He nods before leaning on the wall next to the window.

"Indeed, he helped me with costumes, more specifically Masks." The man mumbled folding his arms across his chest.

Y/n quickly realized what he meant when the dim light shone on his burnt face. Aloïs was the lead costume designer for all actors, singers and dancers in the opera. He'd certainly be willing to help a gentleman like the man stood next to her.

With a small giggle she put her hand on his shoulder.

"Of course, Aloïs would do something like that. I'm sorry if I make you uncomfortable without a mask."

He looks at me confused almost relieved that he wasn't the one in trouble for once. That someone genuinely asked if he was uncomfortable instead of rushing him away and out of sight.

"You're apologizing? Mademoiselle-"

"Y/n, please."

He seems to smile before leaning closer and wiping a lingering tear off Y/n's cheek.

"Y/n, my name is Erik."

Small talk lasted for a few more hours until the sun started to rise.

All members of the Opera house were called to the outside of the Inn where Monsieur André and Firmin would enlighten them of the situation.

Monsieur André took the lead standing ontop of the inn balcony.

"Listen all! I'm afraid we have terrible news you will all now be let go from the Opera house!"

A sudden uproar of voices filled the street and Y/n felt my body wobble a little from shock. Erik stood beside her with his hand on the small of my back trying to stabilize her.

Monsieur Firmin then took the lead and explained:

"This was a terrible tragedy! And with the business in shambles we have no hope of reviving it, thanks to our generous sponsor, Viscount Raoul de Chagny, we will be giving out warm clothes to help with your resignation."

They both quickly scurry out of view back into the inn, likely out the back door leaving the crowd in shock and anger.

Y/n bit her lip feeling another wave of sadness overcome her. Quick breathing and a pounding heart for the unknown future that lied before her.

"Fools!" She hears Erik mumble under his breath.

"We must go quickly!" he said grabbing her hand and pulling her through the crowd to the front.

They got their clothes, thanks to Erik for getting them there early enough to take a few extra pieces of clothes.

Even with a wounded leg, Erik managed to take them to a proper alleyway to get dressed in the clothing.

He dressed first, then stood at the front of the ally to let Y/n get dressed keeping a look out.

A gentleman walked by peeping into the alleyway, but Erik growled loudly and with his burnt face scared the gentleman away.

"I'm done!"

Y/n smiled walking out with the costume she wore neatly folded in her arms.

Erik seemed to smile at her for a very small second then it quickly fell away, he brought his palm to cover his face.

"May I?"

He looked at Y/n confused until she gently took his hand and pulled it away.

"This might not be as good as Aloïs's handy work."

She looked down at her costume before quickly ripping off a piece of the skirt. She used the edges to tie it delicately around the side of his face tracing over it.

"You shouldn't have to hide! People are children! Gasping at the first strange thing they see." Y/n declared.

Erik chuckles but only for a second before going back into a smile.

"Perhaps."

He offers his arm which Y/n gladly took. They walked out into the crowded streets.

The sights were great and all the small shops and children seemed so foreign to her. In the Opera house they only had wooden or stone walls with the occasional windows high up in the building. The space of an open sky and streets going as far as the eye could see was a breath of fresh air.

A few hours later, Y/n suddenly realized that neither Erik or herself currently had a place to live, she have no living family to rely on.

Walking around the city for the first time in years distracted her from the dormant thoughts about the trouble we were in.

She looked back at Erik ready to ask him if he has a plan, but his eyes were sparkling. He was bewildered and intrigued by buildings, people, sounds and other sights. Y/n was starting to wonder if he'd ever been outside the Opera.

She felt a smile spread across her face from the warmth radiating off Erik.

"Erik, have you never-"

"Hello little mis!" a voice from behind her.

Three men quickly surrounded them and Y/n felt her body shrink into fear. Her lack of outside experience made her forget about the rats lurking around the city.

"Well, well! Give us a smile! How much?"

Y/n felt one of the bigger men behind her run his hand down her back.

She jump forward from his touch ready defend herself however, Erik pinched her arm tightly between his bicep and torso.

Y/n looked up at him and noticed the grimace clenching of his teeth.

"Now, this is unfortunate, just as I was starting to enjoy the outside." Erik fumed.

The man reaches for Y/n's behind again but this time Erik uses a closed fist to swing right into the man's nose.

He pushed Y/n off to the side, just hard enough for her to delicately hit the wall. She watched while this night old acquaintance fights off three large men with a bit of wood he swooped off the ground.

Using it to jab into the first mans forearm and then kneeing him in the groin.

Erik kicks the second man in the side, and to their luck, the third starts running. Finally all three run at the first sight of blood.

Erik breathes heavily before dropping to a knee with a loud grunt,clutching his injured leg from the fire.

"Erik!" Y/n ran to his side and wormed her arm underneath his arm and around his torso.

"We have to leave before they bring friends." Y/n stammered.

Her eyes dart around to land on a Inn with a tavern at the ground floor. The sun was setting again so soon and the candles of the tavern were lit.

She walked with Erik and quickly made their way inside to set Erik down in the corner of the tavern by a table.

"Oi!" The barkeep yells at us.

"Out!! You don't have no money!"

Looking at their clothes Y/n understood exactly how he knew we had no money to spend.

"Please! This man is injured, we need-"

He interrupts Y/n again.

"No money, no service! Out!"

Y/n bit her lip hard, thinking of anything to pay this man until she got a small shred of an idea.

"I dance!"

This makes the barkeep stop and look back at them. He leaned against the bar and waited.

Y/n realized he wanted an example before she swallowed the lump of pride in her throat.

She slowly pulled her coat off revealing a very inexpensive dress they received from the Managers.

Low cut to account for all bust sizes and too long skirt for all heights of woman in the Opera house. Throwing the coat over Erik she leaned close to his ear to whisper.

"Hold on, I'll get more help and medicine for that leg."

He groans grabbing Y/n's arm, objecting to what he knew she'd do. She felt her heart want to cry at his genuine worry for her pride. She gently lifts his hand off before turning back to the bar keep.

She looked down at her skirt before lifting it and tieing it into a knot showing just above her knees.

The musician with a pocket fiddle in the corner starts playing a rhythmic song and patrons start coming in.

Y/n puts on the best smile she could muster before starting to move her legs and hips.

Y/n felt the gazes of every drunken basted, but worst of all, she felt Erik watching her. Intrigued or Disgusted? She wasn't sure. She hoped for the latter. It was the better of the two.

Moving her hand over a rich looking patrons shoulders before spinning to the bar and smiling at another gentleman.

For what felt like forever, Y/n danced following each rhythm of each song played.

Getting a small tip from some patrons before she stopped and leaned against the bar.

Out of breath with her chest moving up and down rapidly. Another song had ended. She wasn't sure how much longer she could continue, her legs burnt from no warm up before hand like she knew she had to.

The barkeep, more likely the owner of the inn, pushed a glass of water toward her.

"Well done girl! We haven't had this many patrons in a while."

He praised but Y/n growled and reached out to him with an open palm.

"I did my part, I need payment."

The barkeep looks disgusted and Y/n was afraid for a moment he would refuse her payment. Thankfully he reached into his apron pocket and gave her a good hand full of coins.

Before she could pull her hand back he grabbed her wrist and smirked.

"Come back, with a better attitude, and you can make twice as much."

Y/n gritted her teeth looking away knowing its a large possibility she'd need to come back for more payment.

She pulled her wrist back then ran to where she'd left Erik only to spot him with an angry expression.

"Erik?"

She knew it, he was disgusted! She hesitated in front of him. He only managed to lean forward and pull the knot out of her skirt letting it cover her legs again.

He looks away but patted on the seat beside him. Y/n felt her body once again shrink in on itself as she sat beside him.

She took this opportunity to count the coins and realized they had enough to rent a room for the night and for her to go buy bandages and medicine.

Once they were in the room she felt a very strange hole in her heart, she felt like she'd betrayed him. She was sure he'd leave the next chance he got. She basically did what he'd tried to prevent in the first place.

She sat on the bed facing away while Erik used this time to wash up in the wash room and apply the medicine and bandages himself.

"Y/n."

His voice stood out from the muffled cheers downstairs.

His hand traveled to Y/n's and he sat beside her on the bed.

"I'm sorry."

Those small words made Y/n breath a sigh of relief before she felt his arms wrap her into a hug.

She'd never cried in front of anyone or at least she tried to avoid it as much she could, so how is it possible for this man to have seen her cry twice.

His chin rested on her head as she sobbed. It felt like she would never stop. Until Erik started humming. A soft but familiar tune. A song from the Opera house used in one of the famous plays.

It was beautiful, an angel of music. A voice she didn't know she longed to hear. In sleep he sang to her, and in dreams he he came.

Y/n slowly calmed her sobs before her body fell into a limp sleep and exhaustion.

Erik smiled before slowly laying her onto the bed, however she was clenched onto his shirt so tightly, Erik gave in and layed with her on the bed.

He looked at her calm face wondering how she was able to remain so strong though everything, even taking care of him aswell as herself.

Feeling his heartbeat similarly to the first time it did when he saw Christine. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and slowly pulled her into his chest, keeping her covered from all the worldly wrongs.

[tainted-liquor]

⋆✦ Keep Talkin' ⋆ [3.11.23] - ft. Miles G. Morales ⋆ Ingredients: Sugar, Smiles, and a lil bit of Salt! A/N! READER HAS A STUTTER. Please keep that In Mind.

“Miles, c’mon…get up-“ You chuckled, using all your strength to shuffle Miles off your body. “Absolutely not.” He blurted, somehow getting heavier than earlier as he further relaxed on top of your chest. “I-It’s almost the e-e-end…fuck” you sighed, growing more and more agitated by the minute. For as long as you could remember, you had a mind that moved faster than your mouth could deliver; words and syllables getting lost on the tip of your tongue every time you attempted to vocalize your thoughts. “Mamita, está bien. vamos, sigue hablando, It doesn’t bother me” Miles grunted, plunging his face further into your soft navy-blue wool sweater.

“Y-y-yeah y-you don’t, I do” you chuckled, feeling the air fill your lungs as Miles hoisted himself off of you. The temperature difference was terrifying; you had gone from a comfortable cozy warm to a sudden burst of wintery air blowing directly on you from the A/C. You pulled yourself off the sophomore lounge’s plush bean bag, stretching and yawning while Miles poured coffee into his matte black water bottle. The enticing scent of fresh brew wafted through the space, invading the senses of anyone who passed by the cozy lounge. “You want some?” He asked, pouring French vanilla, cinnamon, sugar, and caramel into the bottle and giving it an aggressive shake.

You nodded, taking the bottle from his hands and taking a deep swig from the warm cup of caffeine. “Aight, c’mon. You have class” Miles recalled, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as he guided you out of the dim and inviting lights of the lounge to the harsh fluorescent lighting of the school hallway. “Miles, can we go to…what’s i-i-i-it called…the cafe across the str-..the cafe across the str-street?” You asked, twisting the cap back on his water bottle and handing it back to him without missing a beat. “Yeah, of course, come get me after class,” he beamed, shoving the water bottle back into the side of his blue backpack. You said your goodbyes, slipping into the cold confines of your classroom while you waited for the rest of the student body to cram into their assigned seats.

Tension was high as everyone opened their computers, faces being illuminated by the ghostly white hue of their screens as they got ready to present their Google slides. You’d always been exempt from vocalizing lengthy presentations, but today you wanted to at least try to work through or around your stutter. You got up from your seat as quietly as possible before fixing your ash grey skirt and made your way over to Mr. Talgate’s desk. You felt slightly more confident, or maybe that was just the ghost of pride taking over you from Miles’ reassurance prior. But regardless of what it was, you wanted to present your slides, especially with how hard you worked on them for the past 3 days.

“Mr. Talgate? Is i-i-it…is i-it alright i-i-if I pres-present today? I’m really proud of my slides n’ I wanna try tod-today” You whispered, attempting to suppress that agitating stutter of yours. Mr. Tailgate looked elated, like a proud father who was ready to support his daughter with anything she wanted. “Yeah, of course! You can go right after…uh,” He mumbled, looking over the classroom to see who you could sandwich your presentation in between. “Lisa! You can go after Lisa. But if you ever wanna stop, just let me know…Make a time-out sign with your hands and I’ll let you go, alright?” He smiled, waving you off as you nodded and retreated to your seat. No thoughts were coursing through your head as everyone went up and gave their speeches; one by one, people’s names were removed from the list as your time to speak came closer and closer. 

You fixed everything that you could, reciting your I’s and Y’s and E’s with each passing second. Lisa took any final questions, before giving a warm smile and a thumbs up in your direction, mouthing “Good luck babes!” before collecting her computer and returning to her seat. You gave her a sheepish, lopsided smile in return as you prepped the small podium in the front of the classroom to present your project. You sucked in a deep breath, wrangling your thoughts and lingering anxieties before turning to face your peers.

“Hi! So, m-my pres-presentation i-i-i-is about th-th…the chemical compound Nitrous O-Oxide.  As you can see, there’s-” You began, quickly beginning to feel the epiphany of speaking in front of a whole class setting in. You were doing fine for the most part, until a random voice in the back spoke up, ruining the rest of your day. 

“Yo, does she always fuckin’ stutter like this? We can’t skip her?” He moaned, throwing his hands in the air like he was stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic. Your blood ran cold as you shut your mouth and clutched the sides of the glazed oak podium. The class erupted in groans of annoyance and shouts of ‘Shut up!’ aimed at the boy as you quickly sat back down at your desk. Your waterline pooled with tears as the boy named ‘Kaiden’ was ejected from class. What a fucking loser.

You barricaded your face in your arms, the tip of your nose ghosting your desk as tears silently trailed from your eyes. The sound of whispers and apologetic glances in your direction went unnoticed as the tinnitus made itself known in your ears, flooding your senses as the pressure on your throat grew heavier. You struggled to control your breathing while you asked the teacher to leave, earning quick confirmation and a gentle pat on the shoulder from Mr. Talgate. When you finally brought yourself out of the classroom, you wiped away the remnants of the salty tears in the mirror that you kept in your blue locker. No matter how hard you dabbed at the trail of tears, no amount of recovery or cleanup would dissipate the feeling of dread that pooled into your stomach every time you went to open your mouth.

Anyway,

Thankfully, that was your last class of the day. All that was left was to find Miles and get some food, and then you could go home to your warm and comforting pink cotton sheets. Your glossy Mary Janes clinked against the pure white vinyl composition tiles, echoing through the spirit-painted walls as you advanced toward the sophomore lounge once more. You pushed open the deep grey sliding door, revealing your boyfriend with his legs propped up on the window seal. He crouched with his knees to his chest, one AirPod in his left ear as he read a bright red comic about someone named Spider-Man. His eyes broke their pattern of scanning over the small font and vibrant pictures, instantly turning over to look at you as he lifted himself off the window.

“Wassup, Ma…You out early, they let you go or somethin’?” He asked, giving you a tight hug and a kiss on the forehead. There was a moment of silence as you nodded with a small smile, earning a sideways glance from Miles. There was a thought that itched at the back of his mind, but he went against his better judgment and assumed you were tired and just wanted some food. It was all going fine until he realized that you were 2 minutes away from the familiar French cafe and you hadn’t said a single word. He missed your usual commentary as you passed by buildings, giggled about dogs, and pointed out signs that caught your attention. He glanced over in your direction, observing as you stared at the ground and fiddled with his bandaged fingers.

“You good Ma? You been real quiet lately… what's on your mind?” He questioned as he held open the glass door so you could pass through into the soft, dim, yellow lighting of the cafe. It was virtually impossible to get anything past Miles; he knew you better than he knew himself, that was clear. Your voice was barely above a whisper as you unpacked the events of 8th  period. “Then he said that I shou-shouldn’t be presenting,” you mumbled, taking a seat at the deep brown leather booth just by the back exit. The store was warm and the fragrance of fresh baked goods wafted through the air, something that could always be associated with comfort and relaxation wasn’t doing much to help you relax right now.

“Well fuck him. Fuckin’ dumbass ain’t even had the balls to say it at the front of the classroom…Kaiden failing his classes anyway baby don’t pay that bum any mind. His mama got 2 teaspoons of hair, Déjalo donde está” He grumbled, rolling his eyes as he slid you closer to his side. “Listen, don’t let them niggas hurt your feelings. He a fat rectangle with buck teeth, don’t let that motherfucker bend you,” He grunted.

“Now c’mon, I want a cannoli.”

Tags !!

@ashsostrange @chessbox @janaeby @faeriesoiree333 @fivestardior @an1bara @bachirasegoist @niaurluv @sp1derw1re @ban-al3x  @we-loveebony @kae2kaee @dxrlingcc

[rottiens]

i must know ur stepcest thoughts 🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤

US AT MIDNIGHT | GETŌ SUGURU

✮ wc. . 2.0K

✮ tags. . stepcest, spit kink, smoker fem!reader, alcohol consumption, praise kink (good girl), canon au. 18+ mdni. divider creds: cafekitsune.

✮ about. . the right thing to do would be to forget about the past and start over. pretend nothing happened. but sometimes the right thing to do is not always what we should do.

✮ notes. . i wanted to explore this trope from a more 'forbidden romance' point of view rather than lust as such, yk? Suguru really cares about the reader. I hope you can still enjoy it and suguru will probably be ooc here so I apologize for that ;sighs;

"You look ravishing tonight." You needn't turn around to know who it was, though it would be hypocritical to deny that you weren't expecting him.

Suguru followed you stealthily like shadow into the backyard, guided by your hips and the sound of your heels against the wooden floor that gave him clues as to what your final destination was. The trees under the breeze of the spring entrance flutter carrying silence.

You steel yourself to turn around, the courage you have never had but now cling to as if your life depended on it. You squeeze the cigarette you carry between your fingers and finally order your feet to move. You almost curse the moon for showing him to you so mysterious, the absence of light allows you to admire his blurred features and the darkness dances on his face preventing you from seeing him clearly. You sigh his manly perfume and smile wistfully at him, dropping your head to the side.

"Suguru." You hadn't said that name in a long time, hadn't thought of it after going to college abroad and abandoning your promising future as a sorceress, so having it in your mouth drags up memories that hit your belly like whips. He returns the same smile, clutching the cup in his hand. In the distance, the sound of music comes muffled through the walls that separate you. "Thank you… you look…" older, handsome, taller "You look good," you conclude with a sigh. "You grew your hair long." You point out the obvious, with a finger gesturing to the black hair that falls loosely down his back.

Apparently something you said makes him grin more, not to the point where he shows his teeth but you do notice the way his shoulders relax at your presence just a little.

"You don't have to hide from me."

"I wasn't," you reply without blinking, trying to keep the plastic smile.

You barely forget about the cigarette burning in your hand, so before the ashes land on your gleaming heels you bring it to your mouth taking a deep puff in search of, ironically, clearing your lungs. After pleading with your mother that you didn't want to attend her and Suguru's father's annual wedding anniversary celebration and she asked that you do so, you created a master plan for tonight that included everything from your hairstyle to your outfit, continuing with the dialogues you would hold and the posture you would assume the entire night… only your perfect plan didn't include your stepbrother cornering you alone like the wolf he is.

You extend the cigarette to him but he shakes his head taking the cup to his mouth instead, ironic, you learned from his vice. You wonder what else has changed in him these past few years.

Amber drops stick to his lower lip as he finishes his drink, which he soon swirls around with his tongue. You watch, unable to pretend you have no interest in him, perplexed that he still has the same effect on you.

"I should get back," you say in a voice that is raspy from the smoke, preparing to walk by his side unwilling to drag out the encounter any longer; however his long fingers tangle around your arm and that spark runs through your entire body.

"We didn't do anything wrong."

"I don't want to talk about it." You avoid looking at him at all costs, focusing on the silhouettes of your parents and their guests dancing in the living room.

"I haven't stopped thinking about you," he suddenly confesses and you hate him for doing this to you now, in the middle of such an important celebration for them.

"I shouldn't have come." You try to struggle against his grip to which he relents, only to seconds later grab you by both arms and slam you against one of the columns, in the background, a cicada screams as the guests rampage with a hubbub and your lungs empty from the impact.

Suguru just looks at you as his fingers burn marks into your skin and you wish you knew what was going through his mind… probably the same as in yours.

"We were kids," you try to explain as a last resort. "It was just a game." Suguru moves closer to your neck and you allow him to trespass your personal space, his natural scent clouding your senses and making you cling to his white shirt in search of stability.

Silently and with your breaths ragged and ruffled, Suguru blindly pulls your hand to his hips and you put up no resistance, then lower.

"This is what you do to me," he murmurs hoarsely. Your fingers feel his length through his pants, much fatter than you remember. Unexpected memories shame you, that should never have happened, you tried to run away from home in search of a fresh start but the images always came back to you tormenting you with the raw whip of morality. "Do you need me as much as I need you? Is that pussy wet for me?"

"Suguru…" you call out to him with weak knees, imploring him not to take you to a place you can't escape from.

"That's right. Say my name, your big brother is right here, let him take a look."

You whimper, more for lack of words or response than because you have any other choice, Suguru uses your weakness against you and that makes you feel frail, under his big fingers he destroys the mask that for so long it has taken you to form. His fingers are cradling your pussy above the fabric of your dress, tracing the labia up and down as he parts them at the same time with light pressure in search of your hidden clit, as soon as he finds it suguru starts a swirl taking his time to listen to your body and which way he caresses you is the one that makes you feel the most pleasure.

He helps you remove the uncomfortable belt around his hips so you can find his hard cock, unlike him, you search through the boxers to touch him directly and you both gasp at the contact.

"We cannot…" you try to elaborate, however Suguru shuts you up with a sloppy kiss, makes you swallow the words as he pushes his tongue inside you, touching your upper lip in a mess of saliva and tangling with your tongue as he pauses to suck on it a little.

"Open." As soon as he commands you, still touching you, your lips stained from the smeared lipstick open for him letting his saliva drip onto your tongue. You swallow and he smiles, it's exactly like before. "I'm going to spit again, but this time keep it in your mouth, okay?" your eyes widen a little at the demand and you don't know if he notices, though you do it anyway without protest. Your tongue rolls out and you give him a glimpse of your mouth, suguru purses his lips again and drops a big gob but this time you do as he says and instead of swallowing, you keep it there. "Good girl," he praises you right away. "You look so pretty with your mouth full so you won't tell me things I don't want to hear."

At that moment, he climbs up the skin of your thigh and tosses the already soaked panties aside to play directly with your needy clit. Each touch is heartbreaking, it's like it's the first time anyone has touched you in years, his caresses are tiny bursts of pleasure that climb up your belly and squeeze you from the inside— with one hand on your neck and one on your crotch suguru keeps jerking you off while he talks in your ear and tells you how much he's missed you, how much he needed to see you again, by this point your body was about to explode, your legs tremble and your nipples harden with each dirty word that makes his throat vibrate.

Suguru raises his hand to the level of your face and shows you his open palm as if waiting for something.

"Spit." Seeing the confusion on your face you make him smile, which has an effect on you that you hate. Without further hesitation you spit, and he takes his now wet and sticky hand to his cock to lubricate it and with the same soaked hand he gives two round strokes to your pussy, giving you to understand that he is preparing you for what is coming next.

He abruptly turns you over so that your back is to him while he grabs your hips and lifts your ass, you stand on tiptoe while hiding your face in your hands. Common sense begs you because you still have time, logic tells you that someone could be watching you from afar and that your relationship would be more than an embarrassment to the family, yet it's hard to think about the moment when the thick head brushes your swollen lips in a gentle back and forth.

"Is this okay?" he asks. "Can I fuck you without a condom?"

You can't think. You want to say you're not sure, but a hasty, "Yes," rolls out of you before you can stop it.

You can sense his hesitation in the way his grip weakens around your hips and by how he continues to outline your pussy lips up and down without deciding to thrust even though you are blindly seeking him with your hips.

You call his name, looking back to stare at his body bathed in the dim light; the dark strands obscure his gaze as Suguru just focuses on the image of you open waiting to be taken for him. Even in the absence of light you admire his jaw clench.

"I don't want our first time to be like this," suguru breathes, still not raising his head to look at you. Your brow furrows slightly in both frustration and confusion, after all he's been the one to blame for you getting to this point— your lips parted to complain at the same time his voice fills the place again. "Squeeze your thighs together." He commands back authoritatively without waiting for a no.

You do as he asks. With your eyes straight ahead, you focus on the column in front of you to which you cling for support and amidst the murmur of applause Suguru slides his hard cock in between your thighs after he has spit again.

The sound of his moans are drowned out by the din at close range, his hips thrusting and rubbing desperately against you in search of release. Your whole body feels hot in different places and for different reasons, shame and pleasure are those that stand out the most burning your cheeks and an oppressive sensation cracking your ribs.

The amount of saliva makes the movement fluid, just like a dance in which you help him by pushing your hips back to meet him in that back and forth in perfect unison. This leads him to cum soon, he lifts your dress to spill the ropes of cum on your ass ruining the harmony of your skin, then, still with fingers dirty from his own orgasm suguru pulls you to cling to his chest and from behind drags a hand down your belly to take hold of your pussy once more.

He forces you to look into the room as two of his fingers deep into you and makes you moan, taking care to steal a hard orgasm from you as his kisses make themselves present in your throat and his cum slides very slowly along your ass. His chest heaves with pride knowing that you will spend the rest of the party with his mark on you, as everyone laughs and celebrates a special occasion; his cum would be spilling down the length of your thighs.

He rejoices knowing you had come back to him.

"Meet me in my room at midnight," he whispers in your ear after depositing a tender kiss on your lobe.

[cherrylovelycherry]

Little boy

pairing. alhaitham x fem!reader cw/genre. slightly angsty, oc 'haitham, happy/bittersweet(?) ending. masterlist! requests open!

The silence is thick as he stares you down. You, and the baby held protectively in your arms. The baby boy’s peering at him with eyes an uncomfortably familiar turquoise green.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Al Haitham asks, words like ash in his mouth. The baby’s a few months old. How had you even hid your pregnancy from him? He knows you weren’t together, knows it was a one time thing, but if he’s the father… “I would’ve helped.”

The baby Y/N held in her arms, instinctively protective, had honey-brown hair like hers and her eyes were turquoise green…like his.

The silence on her part seemed to go on forever. She would open her mouth to say something and then change her mind.

"Mhm. You would have." She spoke finally, in an awkward voice.

Al Haitham's face furrowed slightly at her tone. He demanded an answer, but he wasn't going to press her either, because he assumed she had her reasons. He sighed in irritation before asking again.

"Then why? Why didn't you tell me?" it comes out far harsher than he intends.

Y/N let out a snort of irritation, but took a breath to calm herself as she didn't want her baby to feel the tension she was feeling.

"Because it was risky, besides, you just had a very important position as a Scribe." She spoke, rocking her baby.

A risky proposition? What would have been so risky about telling him? Would he have tried to do away with the child to protect his career?

Is he that cruel?

“Did you think I would…” His words cut off. He knows what he was about to say - that he couldn’t be trusted to react appropriately.

And… is that true? Has he ever given her reason to doubt that?

He’s never done anything like that, so why was that what her first assumption was?

"Yes. I thought of all the options that could have gone wrong for the sake of my son." She commented, giving a heavy sigh. Her little boy was her only priority.

"Do you really think that little of me?" he wants to ask. Do you really think you can’t trust me to do right by our son?

“Why did you think I’d be so harsh with you for having a child? Has our relationship really been that cold? I’m not…” He trails off. Has he truly been so cold?

"Uhm. Yes." She says affirming her questions.

"I'm surprised you didn't notice…" She spoke to herself. "Besides we never had a concrete relationship." she wanted to add but decided to keep it to herself.

"From Dehya to Cyno they noticed that you were too hard and cold when we were together." She commented.

“I was… harsh?” he asks. That is the exact word he would not have used to describe himself in your relationship. Cold, yes, but harsh? Never - in his eyes.

He knows his faults. He knows that he can be cold with you - no warmth. Only, “what’s best,” or, “what’s most practical.”

But harsh? When has he ever been that? Have his words and actions come out so cruel that you saw nothing but a harsh and cold man?

"…haitham."

"Al Haitham!" She called out to him for the third time.

"I was talking to you, I assumed you were deep in thought." She commented to him.

"As usual." She held back from saying.

His eyes snap up to her with those sharp words. No, he's not ignoring her - just thinking.

He's always thinking, his mind endlessly churning. But he has never let that get in the way of listening to you.

"Yeah," he replies, "What were you saying?" He still doesn't want to look away from his son.

"Ah." He let out a sigh, he was getting a little irritated at Al Haitham's lack of attention.

"I was telling you that I named my son-" Her words were cut off, by way of correcting herself.

"I named our son Iker." She finished. Stroking his little boy's cheek.

"Iker…" he repeats, running a hand over his chin as he considers the name.

"It's a beautiful name." His gaze moves to your son, whose small hand is grabbing your finger. It's a good name for him… is what he really wants to say.

Y/N's expression softens as he watches Iker grasp his father's hand.

"Yeah, i know…" Her voice sounds nostalgic for a moment as she looks at the scene in front of her.

There was a momentary silence from both of them, which could not be determined as comfortable or uncomfortable. It was just silence.

"He looks…" his words trail off again. "He looks just like you." How could anything of him be seen in Iker, when the only thing he can see is the image of you imprinted upon him.

"He has your hair and your smile." he adds a moment later, voice low as he leans in to nuzzle the soft tuft of Iker's hair. "He's got your dimples." He thought.

Y/N let out a scoff when he heard him say that.

"Come on, Al Haitham. Iker literally has your eyes and most of your physical features." She spoke, smiling a little.

"I was often told that he looked a lot like his father, because he hardly looked at all like me." She commented quietly in a somewhat disinterested manner.

A small smile crosses his face for a moment, before he looks back down and realizes just how much your son looks like him.

"I've never seen a child so similar to their father." He murmurs quietly. It's almost unsettling. Even down to the shape of his skull - this child's face is a spitting image of his.

You can see a moment pass by, almost as if he's contemplating something. He looks back up at you. "Would you mind…" He asks quietly.

"Uhm?"

"Oh, okay." Y/N holds out Iker for Al Haitham to hold in his arms for a while.

Gently she passes her baby to him, demonstrating how his hands and arms should be positioned.

Your son makes a cooing noise as he gets held by his father for the first time. Al Haitham's expression shifts as he holds the small babe in his arms for the first time.

His gaze flicks back to you again before he speaks, his words hushed as he speaks. "Could I… Could I stay here?" He asks. "Or at least, help you take care of Iker. I'd like to spend time with him."

Y/N's eyes widen as she hears his words.

A surge of different feelings, from negative to positive. She wondered if it was a good idea, after all she didn't want her little boy to grow up without a father figure.

She took a breath before saying, "Yes, yes you can." with an attempt at a smile that was half-hearted as it was more like a grimace. More than anything, she agreed for Iker's sake.

He can see the thoughts running through your head. Emotions running high - joy, anxiety, hope, doubt. "But…" he says quietly, still looking at her. "What about you and I? Do you…" he trails off, not sure how to formulate the next sentence.

"What if we - if we…"

He stops himself again. Maybe it's better not to think about that right now.

For now, he'll just treasure this time with your son.

©cherrylovelycherry do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[ohtobeleah]

Nav // Mickey Garcia

Summary: Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia has been keeping a secret, or three, from his new found family. After finding out he’d been transferred to North Island on a more permanent basis—he thinks now is as good a time as any to let the secret out.

Warnings. Believe it or not—this is a fluff piece. Fanboy x female reader. Slight mention of Smut.

Word Count: 5.1k

Author Note: This weekend we welcomed Rhett Abbott and Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia to the every growing list of fictional men I’d let rail me. This is such a fandom fluff piece, but it’s what you’re getting so either take it or don’t. Idk.

Callsings. Everyone had one–every one carried a story, a reason behind the name that colleagues and superior officers referred to you as and knew you as. Once you had your call sign it stuck to you like super glue. There was no changing it, no hiding from it, no running from the probably embarrassing story that the callsign was born from the ashes of or trying to fix the personality trait that people hated enough to give you shit for or loved enough to want to remind you of every day. 

For Mickey Garcia, his callsign had two stories. The first was the most commonly told whenever he was asked about it. He was simply a nerd. He loved all things Star Wars and Star Trek. He adored Battlestar Galactica and honestly? If it had a Star in the title he was convinced he’d already be obsessed with it if given the chance to binge the series or movie trilogy. He was a Fanboy, so much so his aviation helmet shared the same font as the Star Trek logo. He was obsessed, plain and simple. 

But there was also another thing Mickey Garcia was a huge fan of that earned him his callsign way back in the days of his fighter school training. He’d never forget the first time he heard you say it. Although he carried an encyclopaedic memory around, Mickey swore there was only ever one thing, one person, one gorgeous woman on his mind twenty for seven, seven days a week, three hundred and sixty five days of the year. 

The love of his life, his best friend (Don't tell Payback), his devoted wife. Mickey was well aware that he belonged in the sky. He’d wanted to be just like his father ever since he knew how to walk. There was never a question surrounding what Mickey Garcia would grow up to be. He spent more time in the sky than he did down on solid ground, that was just something you learnt to live with.

Mickey Garcia was also incredibly mindful of the fact his heart hadnt been to the earth since the first time he kissed you. When you loved him? You had sent it clear out of this world. He’d love you forever, be your devoted husband, lovingly and completely yours forever. 

“Nav and the kiddos settle in alright?” Payback asked as he and Fanboy ran through their pre-flight checks. “Kinda missed her annoying ass.” Fanboy chuckled softly in response, humming at the soft jab his best friend sent his wife. He knew the minor insult held no weight, hell–Payback had been the one who introduced the two of you in the first place. He knew you longer than Mickey and you had even been married for. 

“Only got a few boxes left to unpack.” Mickey explained as he checked all his weapon systems. “But yeah, it feels good to have them here, just not too sure how I'm gonna break it to the rest of the guys.” It wasn't that Mickey didn't want to tell the Dagger Squad, he always had every intention. But he wanted to make sure he could trust these people with his life before letting them into his family. After the events of the uranium mission and having been offered a permanent posting in North Island, Mickey felt the time was right. “Nav’s pretty keen to meet everyone though.”

That you were, so when Mickey mentioned that the gang were all meeting up on Saturday night for dinner and beers at their favourite watering hole, the Hard Deck, and wanted you and the kiddos to come along you were more than ecstatic to finally meet the people who had kept your husband safe. 

“Hey, Miles!” Mickey called out after the five year old who booked it from where he’d placed him down beside the car in the direction of the group of people who looked as if they’d transported into a parallel universe. “Miles! Hey buddy! Slow your roll alright.” Scooping up the tiny version of himself as Miles Garcia giggled at his own antics, Mickey caught sight of his squad. All staring at him wondering what the hell was going on. 

“Fanboy—who’s crotch goblin is that?” Hangman asked as he sneered and pointed at the child who now resided on his fathers hip. Watching as you came out from around the other side of the car with what seemed to be a smaller, very much younger version of the same child wrapped in a baby wrap around your chest. “And who’s this?” 

“Uh—“ Mickey cleared his throat as you made your way to his side, placing a gentle but loving kiss to his cheek before rubbing the small of his back for moral support. “Guys, this here’s my wife, Nav.” Smiling softly, you waved briefly before Mickey went on to introduce your kids. “This is Miles, he’s five and this is Morgan, she’s only—six months.” He hadn’t forgotten, but for a brief moment Mickey had to count with his fingers.

The silence was to be expected as the group of naval aviators who stood before you in the carpark of the Hard Deck Bar took in the new revelations that Fanboy was and had been married with kids the entire time they’d been in North Island. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you all.” You were the first to break the heavy silence. 

“You’re married?” Phoenix asked in disbelief, she was careful not to utter it in a way that you may have taken offense to. 

“You have kids?” Rooster couldn’t stop staring at the five year old in Mickey's arms. He looked so much like his dad it was kinda scary. 

“You had a family this whole time and didn’t tell anyone?” Hangman scoffed, he couldn’t believe it—how could Star Trek over here land a wife and two beautiful children but he couldn’t even get a damn date. “What if something had happened to you?”

“Ruben knew.” Fanboy explained as the group made their way inside, Phoenix instantly filed back to walk with you. She wanted to be the first person to tell you how great a guy your husband was—not that you didn’t already know. “He was my best man.” 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Bob asked the question everyone was asking. It wasn’t a black or white response. But nevertheless Mickey tried his best as Penny pointed them all in the direction of the tables she’d placed together. 

“They mean everything to me, I guess I just wanted to make sure that you guys were all good people, good enough for them.” Although it hurt just the slightest amount, Bob understood. “Don’t tell him I said this but the jury is still out on Hangman—I just didn’t see another viable option of introducing Nav to everyone.” Bob couldn’t help but to laugh as he looked down at the child still in Mickey's arms. “I feel awful for not telling you sooner Bob.” 

“Don’t be, your family’s important, I understand wanting to keep them safe, keep them all to yourself.” 

Fanboy left it at that as he turned his attention back to settling his family down for dinner amongst his friends. Especially keeping an eye on you before settling in beside you. A hand gravitating to your knee under the table as Mickey looked into the wrap—Morgan sleeping soundly against your chest. 

“So Nav, what do you do for a living?” Hangman asked from across the table as you looked over to provide the sandy blonde your utmost attention. 

“I own a small photography business.” You were humble in your talents. “Boudoir mostly.” 

“Say Phoenix? You wanna get in on that action?” Rooster taunted as he popped a few peanuts in his mouth, wiggling his eyebrows, leaning back on the chair he’d perched himself on across the table from Natasha. “I’ll volunteer as tribute.”

“In your wet dreams Bradshaw—“ Phoenix hissed as she took a sip of her beer. “That’s a pretty dramatic juxtaposition from a naval aviator?” Natasha turned her head back to you, watching as you soothed the little girl who was starting to stir in her wrap. “How’d you actually meet?” 

“The academy—“ Mickey interrupted as Miles got to work colouring with the crayons Payback had asked Penny for when he went to fix up the first round at the bar. Returning with beers and ample colouring supplies for his favourite five year old. “Y/n was in the Navy.” It was yet another revelation the gang had a hard time processing. “Everyone still calls her Nav though, a hard habit to kick.” 

Mickey Garcia wasn’t all that fly with the ladies, he never really had been. He’d had a few girlfriends in his short life but nothing ever lasted long enough for him to start thinking about a future with them, or a family for that matter. 

“Hey Mickey! I got a friend I want you to meet!” Ruben cried out from across the amphitheater. Mickey pried his eyes away from the book he’d been reading for five seconds to turn his head his best friend's way. He’d heard of the girl from across the street, but your paths had never had a chance to cross until now. “This is Y/n, Michelle’s younger sister.” Within the space of five entire seconds, the trajectory of Mickey's life changed forever. He’d never been a huge believer in love at first sight, but as you made yourself known out from behind Rubens shoulder? Mickey knew he was fucked, in over his head. 

“You must be Fanboy?” Mickey stood as you held your hand out to shake his. 

“Who?” He asked, smiling bright as he found himself getting lost in your eyes. Ruben just laughed to himself, knowing from this moment going forward he’d forever be known as the man who introduced Mickey Garcia to the literal love of his life. 

“Fanboy right? Ruben said you’re a big fan of Star Trek—“ Mickey had never laid his eyes on a woman more beautiful than you. 

“Oh he did, did he?” Deadpanning Ruban, Mickey held his glare for a few seconds before turning back to you. “Well uh—yeah I guess that’s me, Mickey Fanboy Garcia.” 

“It’s nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you.” You had, and you’d loved everything you’d heard so far. So much so you’d begged Ruben to just cut the shit and introduce you already. He’d been dangling a carrot on a stick right in front of you for months.

“All good things I hope?” Mickey raised his eyebrow as you beamed his way, you’d definitely been shaking hands for far too long but you were both past the point of awkwardness, both just seeing who would break first. Smirking at one another like children. 

“Only the very best.” 

“I was uh, a navigation officer, callsign wasn’t all that unique but it did the trick.” You shrugged, looking around at all Mickey's friends as they tried to process everything they were learning. “I understand this is probably a lot for everyone.” 

“It’s not.” Rooster smiled as he looked at Fanboy. There’s been a switch flipped inside the proud mustache having aviator who loved a good Hawaiian shirt. “It just means that Fanboys got a lot more on the line than any of us ever thought.”

“Dadda?” The little boy sitting next to Mickey cooed just loud enough to gain his father’s attention. “I’m hungry—“

“Foods coming bud, here, you wanna sit on dad’s lap so you can tell all dads friends what you wanna be when you grow up?” The brown eyed, dark curly haired boy who looked far too much like Mickey scrambled from the seat he’d been sitting onto into his dads lap. Mickey let out an oof sound when Miles slammed his entire body weight down into his lap. He thought his dad was some kind of superhero who never felt pain or got tired. 

Whenever Mickey was deployed and on a detachment like he’d been on recently, you’d tell Miles that dad was off fighting bad guys and that once he knew everyone was safe and sound—he’d come home. Five year olds were easy to manipulate at bed time if you told them all the right things. 

“Go ahead buddy, tell ‘em what you told me.” Mickey coaxed the information he knew would melt his team's hearts out of his toddler by tickling his sides to invoke a chuckle so pure it even made Hangman smile. 

“I wanna be a superhero and fly planes like my Dadda.” 

“I never thought I’d hear someone say superhero and daddy in the same sentence while referring to Fanboy—“ Coyote snickered in the most wholesome way he could. “You got cute kids man I’ll give ya that.” 

“Nav, you look like you’re still glowing.” Bob mentioned cautiously. “You guys said Morgan’s only six months?” 

“Yeah—the last month and a bit was a little rough with the kiddos back in Miami while Mickey was stationed out here with you guys.” You were just thankful that everything had gone as well as it had and that everyone made it home. “But things are starting to mellow out.” 

“Do you not have paternity leave saved up Fanboy?” Jake Seresin was the last person Mickey ever thought that question would come from. But things weren’t that simple. 

“I’d basically just finished my leave when this assignment came about.” 

“It’s only for six weeks mamma.” Mickey cooed as he kissed your neck tenderly. Looking at you through the mirror of your bathroom as you applied a mud mask—Mickey had the same exact one plastered across his forehead and nose. His T-section. “I’ll be back before you even start to miss me.” 

“I know I know.” You smiled as softly as you possibly could. It wasn’t your husband’s fault he was government property and you knew better than anyone else now the Navy worked. “Still doesn’t change the fact it just be me and the kids—“

“I’ll call my parents and make sure they do a few weekends here and there.” It wasn’t a permanent solution, but it would help to patch the leak you knew would spring from time to time. “You know I don’t wanna leave you guys here, my girls and my best guy.” 

“But duty calls right, superman?” You turned in Mickey's embrace, with one move he had you up resting atop the vanity—legs on either side of his hips as he stood better yours. Your arms flung over your husband’s shoulders as he drank in the sight of you. His wife, his beautiful best friend, the mother of his two gorgeous children. 

“Hey you started that shit, it’s not my fault he thinks that.” Mickey beamed, leaning in in search of your lips. Kissing you softly before deepening the moment. Mickey had always been a big fan of self care days, he was adamant that’s how you both ended up with Morgan. “I love you Nav—I’ll be back before you know it.” 

“When do you leave?” It was four words that never got easier to ask, Mickey let the silence linger in the bathroom for a moment—just enjoying the time he had with you. You made things so easy, made it so easy to love you and the kids. Made it so easy for him to love his job despite the distance because even on his worst days Mickey knew he would eventually come home to you and it would be like he never even left. You were far too good for him and he knew that. 

“Thursday.” Mickey said just barely above a whisper as he leaned in to kiss you again. This time more passionate, a lot slower, needier. “Thursday around noon, Payback and I are gonna catch a cab together to the airport, I didn’t want you having to wrangle the kids up just to pile into the car an—“ You cut Mickey off by pulling him closer by the elastic of his boxer briefs, snapping the material back against his lower abdomen when his lips were back on yours. The groan he let slip into your mouth almost made you want to try for another baby. But the two of you were very much happy with the two you already had. 

“Just promise you’ll come home to us?” You knew it was an empty promise, the ever looming possibility that something could go terribly wrong always crossed your mind. But you trusted Ruben to bring your husband home safely every time they flew. 

“Nav my dear, I’m lovingly and completely yours forever.” 

“Believing me, it was the longest six weeks of my life.” You sighed, running your hand gently over the sleeping baby girl wrapped up on your chest. “But we got through it and now it just feels good to be close again, I’ve heard such good things about all of you so I feel surrounded by family already.” 

Looking around the table as food started to arrived in bits and pieces. Mickey knew he had it all. He had his friends, he had his family and to him that’s all he ever really cared about. Hearing you laugh with Bob and challenging Hangman, watching you bond with Phoenix and click with Rooster. Mickey loved how Coyote sparked a flame inside you he hadn’t seen in years talking about what it was like to be a navigator. You didn’t talk about it all that much these days, you were just happy to be a mum and a devoted wife. But sometimes, every now and again you would miss the ocean. Missed what it was like to roam patrol boats and look longingly to whatever coast you were near. Mickey knew that, but Coyote challenged it. 

He loved his friends but they were now his family. Mickey Garcia had never felt so much love radiating around him as he sat with you and his children amongst the people who carried him throughout the day. His squad, his teammates. 

His family. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

A few months after the shocking discovery that Mickey Garcia was a husband and Father and not just some Fanboy Star Trek geek had settled in—the dagger squad had seemingly become like much loved furniture amongst the Garcia household. So much so that some had their own keys, some always had their hands up to babysit, some even knew that the back window was always slightly ajar and could be opened if drunkenly in search of a place to crash. 

Your house was the closest to the Hard Deck out of all the other houses that the daggers resided in, which meant more often than not you’d come down stairs in the early hours of the morning to feed Morgan and see a very hungover, very loudly snoring, very much passed out Jake Hangman Seresin on your couch. His chest sunken as he slept soundly, a small patch of drool seeping into the fabric with the back window cracked. 

“Jake—“ You’d nudged him, watching with a humorous smile as he jolted awake. “Coffee, drink it—then get out of my damn house.” 

“Yes mamma.” Jake would always reply, the term of endearment something the group picked up early into your friendship. Quickly becoming the one they all respectfully ran to with all their promises. The mum of the group.

Although Jake was the serial lounge hogger, it was Bradley Bradshaw who had once had a key and saw any time of the day or night to make himself at home. He never meant it in a malicious manner—he was just excited to be apart and of something bigger than himself for once. Neither you nor Mickey minded all that much—until Rooster had walked in on you and Mickey bare backing it on the same couch Jake would fling himself across after his drunken escapades. 

“So fucking pretty Nav.” Mickey cooed as you bounced on his length. Straddling his waist as his hands helps your hips steady—helping to guide you up and down at the pace you set. “God what did I ever do to deserve you—Ah fugh—!” 

“Ohhhh fuckk! Mickey baby you feel so good—why don’t you put another baby in me huh?” 

“Yeah? is that what you want darling girl? Another one of us?” He wasn’t going to say he hadn’t thought about it, a third little Garcia running around. The two you had were perfect, but a third? You’d be outnumbered. “You always look so pretty pregnant.” 

It was otherworldly the way Mickey looked up at you as he took your nipple into his mouth, you were still breastfeeding so the sensation of your husband sucking on your tits was all too much. Leaking into his mouth. 

“Ohhhh fughh! Mickey!” You were still bouncing, the head of Mickey cock kissing against your cervix as he slipped a hand between the pair of you to work you over. “I’m gonna—“ 

“Holy shit—“ Rooster stood in the entryway covering his eyes. “Holy shit I didn’t see anything!” The sound of your husband's co-worker standing in the entryway sent you skyrocketing off Mickey and fumbling for the nearest throw blanket. “Swear on my mother’s grave I saw nothing Mick!” 

“What the hell are you doing here Rooster! The door was locked!?” Mickey was holding a decorative pillow to cover his hard-on. His skin still flushed red because he was so fucking close it wasn’t funny—he was about to become a father of three. 

“You gave me a key?” Rooster caught himself smirking for a brief moment as the sound of The Jonas Brothers old number one hit ‘Burnin’ Up’ played through the house. It had been your song since yours and Mickey's Naval academy days. He’d gone as Joe Jonas one year for Halloween. The song itself had even played at your wedding. “Jonas Brothers? Really Fanboy, really?” 

“Bradshaw I’m a pacifist alright—“ Mickey sighed as he took a few steps towards the sandy blonde who was just in search of a ham and cheese sandwich. “But I’m about to pass my fist across your face.” It was needlessly to say Rooster, from that point going forward—always checked in before he entered with caution. 

But it didn’t mean the never ending revolving door of ragtag aviators stopped. No—if anything your house had never been fuller. 

“Hey Lovely.” You greeted Phoenix as she kicked her boots off, Bradley wasn’t too far behind her, next was Bob. “Here’s your Valentine’s Day package.” Unbeknownst to the group of aviators, a few months ago when Rooster had teased Phoenix about possibly taking up the opportunity to do a boudoir shoot with you, she actually said fuck it? And why not? She was a powerful woman after all who deserved to feel sexy and feminine. “There’s about fifty printouts, the dried petals from the roses and a thumb drive with like one hundred digital copies from the shoot on it.” 

“Thanks Nav—and honestly I can pay for it, really.” Natasha took the little box you gifted her before taking you into a warm embrace. 

“Don’t be silly, it’s on me.” Was all you said before you found yourself being hauled away by your screaming daughter, she was rather clinging at the moment and couldn’t be away from you for more than ten consecutive minutes before she thought the world was ending. It didn’t help that Mickey had shaved his head. She hardly recognised him at the moment. “Alright alright I’m coming darling.” 

“Did you actually do a boudoir shoot?” Rooster's hand slid up the side of Natasha's hip, pulling her into him as he whispered in her ear. “Because if so—“ Before Bradley has a chance to say he wouldn’t mind being privy to those private photos, Phoenix caught him out, leaving the taller, blonde aviator who’d subsequently stolen her heart over the course of a few years in a puddle on the floor in one of his best mate’s houses. 

“They’re your Valentine’s Day gift.” 

“Bob honey, you want a sandwich?” Mickey loved the way you just so effortlessly took care of his friends the same way you took care of him. “I’ve got peanut butter or I can do ham and cheese?” 

Bobs flushed a nice shade of red as he sat down beside Fanboy at the dining table, trying not to eavesdrop on the fact Rooster and Pheonix were in his peripheral vision practically eye fucking the ever living shit out of each other. 

“Ham and cheese please Nav.” Is all Bob utters before Miles is climbing into his lap. The two had a unique bond now that they practically wore the same kind of glasses. Miles thought he looked weird with glasses because none of the other kids in his glass wore them. But then Bob told him that his glasses could be his superhero disguise, for when he’s not saving the world like his dad. 

“Do you wanna play in the tree house with me uncle Bob?” How the fuck could he say no? Nodding softly before flipping the five year old over his shoulder. 

“Here, don’t forget your sandwich!” You cooed out as Bob made his way through the kitchen with your son strung upside down over his shoulder. “Eat before you go back to work, Mickey told me you passed out the other day because you hadn’t eaten since before seven.” Bob was quick to deadpan your husband as he took the sandwich you held out for him. Leaning in to kiss your cheek softly. 

“Thanks Nav.” He took a bite before pointing at Mickey, holding your son over his shoulder with one hand wrapped tight around the little boy's ankle as he laughed and screamed as the blood rushed to his head. “Snitches get stitches!” 

“Yeah dad! Snitches get stitches!” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

The Garcia household had become the home base for most things. Birthdays, public holidays, general get togethers, fried chicken Fridays, and seedy Sundays. But most importantly your humble abode had become the place people went to feel like they were at home. Not everyone was as fortunate to have their families in North Island. So you and Mickey became sort of the group mum and dad. 

“You aren't are you?” Ruben asked with wide eyes as you gifted him the small pair of socks that said best uncle ever on the tops. “You’re pregnant?” 

“After the display I walked in on a few months ago I'm shocked it hasn't come sooner–” Rooster mumbled as he looked at Mickey who sat nursing baby Morgan. Now a year old. “Congratulations by the way.” 

Your first two pregnancies had been pretty up and down. With baby Miles you suffered from hyperemesis. That was a little rough to get through when Mickey was deployed, but you had his mum and dad around to help you with things. He’d been your hospital birth baby. Epidural, all the drugs and medications readily available to help ease the pain. Morgan however, she’d been the at home birth baby. She was a breezy pregnancy so it made you wonder what it would be like to give birth at home unmedicated. 

“AAAAAHHHHH!!!” You were a sweaty mess as you laid back against Mickey in the blow up birthing pool in the middle of your living room floor. “I can't!! I can’t fucking do this!” 

“You can mamma, you’re so strong yeah? I've got you alright, you’re doing so well Nav.” Mickey had been a saint, he just knew what to do and when to do it. He was just thankful to be a part of such a magical experience. “You’re gonna bring our baby girl into the world–” It wasn't Mickey's fault that you were losing your mind from the pain. You just wanted it to be over, letting your head fall back against his shoulder as you cried in pain. 

“I fucking hate you for doing this to me.” Mickey couldn't help but to laugh softly as you placed a cool cloth against your forehead. “You did this to me, you idiot.” 

“I remember this being a two player game love, it wasn't just me.” There was not a single thing on this earth Mickey Fanboy Garcia wouldn't do for you. “You can’t not not deliver this baby Nav, she's coming regardless.” But when you groaned in agony? He wished more than anything he could take that pain away from you–but he couldn't. “You’re so beautiful–” 

“Oh my god it HURTS!” You shouted as another contraction took over your body, Mickey could feel how tight your belly was as the water lapped around your legs, spreading them to find more comfort as your doula walked you through what was going on from the edge of the pool. “Shut up Mick!” 

“Shutting up–” He mumbled as you groaned, so exhausted from your contractions. You didn't mean to lash out, so when your contraction was subsiding, giving you a little repreve for five seconds, you sobbed in in his shoulder-your back against his bare chest. 

“I didn't mean to call you an idiot, I'm sorry.” Mickey just kissed your temple lovingly. 

“You can call me whatever you want, I'm lovingly and completely yours forever.” 

“Yeah, congratulations guys, surely you’re gonna get the ol snip now hey Fanboy?” Jake smirked as he made a snipping gesture his way. 

“I've already booked the appointment for next month.” You added as you stood from your place in the living room. The entire group had come over for fried chicken friday. “If anyone else in the room wants to get a vasectomy let me know and I'll ring and add you to the booking.”

“Don't you dare come near me, that kinda shits barbaric.” Coyote cupped at his crotch. 

“It's minor surgery that can be reversed asshat.” Phoenix added as she slapped Javy upside the head in response to his statement. It made you all laugh for a moment until the conversation was drawn back to Bob’s latest conundrum. His crush on the new admin assistant in D block on base. It just felt like home when everyone was filling your home with laughter. Thinking back now you couldn't have imagined not knowing any of them. Ever. 

***~***~***~***~***~

Callsings. 

Everyone had one–every one carried a story, a reason behind the name that colleagues and superior officers referred to you as and knew you as. Once you had your call sign it stuck to you like super glue. There was no changing it, no hiding from it, no running from the probably embarrassing story that the callsign was born from the ashes of or trying to fix the personality trait that people hated enough to give you shit for or loved enough to want to remind you of every day. 

For Mickey Garcia, his callsign had two stories. The first was the most commonly told whenever he was asked about it, whenever his friends and colleagues were asked about it. They could lie and say it was because he was the biggest nerd they knew, but they didn't. 

Each time Rooster or Bob, Phoenix of Payback, Hangman or Coyote were asked about their friends' callsign. They told the truth. And the fact of the matter was Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia was and forever would be lovingly and completely yours forever.

[howi99]

Meeting from the past 3/3

Mercedes: *looking around the room* This school... *Smile* It reminds me of my hold school, back when i was your ages.

Ruby: Oh oh! Where you a huntress? Did you kick bad guys butt? *Does karate chop* aya!

Mercedes: Oh my, yes. *Looking sad* I never really liked fighting. But, to protect others against bad people, i fought with all i had.

Ruby: *feeling a bit bad* W-well, now we are the one who will protect you!

Mercedes: *smiling again* And i thank you for your help... Ruby, was it?

Ruby: Yep!

Mercedes: *looking at everyone until her eyes met Ash's one*... Sorry, my dear, but... Have I seen you before? I feel like we met before.

Ash: *sweating* N-no! I'm from Vacuo, no way you could have seen me! Ah ah ah!

Mercedes: Is that so? But your eyes...

Jaune: *opening the door* I'm back! And with enough food for everyone!

Mercedes: Jaune!

Jaune: *smiling while giving the food bags to Yang and Pyrrha* Mom! *Hugs her* I missed you! How's dad? And my sisters? Did Saphron finally move?

Mercedes: *laugh* They are fine! And yes, they finally moved. *Chuckle* the house has finally known silence for the first time in 3 years.

Jaune: And what about yourself? Did you sleep well? Did you eat correctly?

Mercedes: I'm the mom here, Jaune. Shouldn't i be the one asking this kind of question?

Jaune: You know me well enough, but i know you too. You only bake!

Nora: *poking Jaune side* You don't present us, fearless leader?

Jaune: *slap his forehead* How could i forget! Mom, this is my team! Nora, Ren and Pyrrha!

Pyrrha: Hello!

Ren: Nice to meet you.

Nora: HI! Are you as good of a cook as Jaune?

Ren: Nora!

Nora: What?

Mercedes: *laugh* Oh, i don't know... Jaune, what would you say?

Jaune: *sigh* In making sweet, she beat me... But i am getting better!

__________

*everyone is talking to everyone*

Ash: *sigh while looking at Jaune*

Mercedes: *sitting next to her* I won't tell him who you are.

Ash: *heart skip a beat* L-like i said, i-

Mercedes: Do you wish me to tell your father you are ok?

Ash: ... *Sigh* How did you know?

Mercedes: You mean outside of the knife you have at your side, your amber eyes and the fact you keep looking at Jaune while smiling like you fid when you were height?

Ash:... I'm that obvious?

Mercedes: *smile* Don't worry, you hide it well enough for him to not recognize you and spill your identity out. But Ash? Really?

Ash: Well, it was close to my real name. Or at least the one they gave me back then. Beside, it goes well with my hair, no?

Mercedes: *sigh* I'm so sorry for what happened to you-

Ash: It wasn't your fault. Besides, if it wasn't me, it would have been someone else. *Smile* And i don't wish anyone that.

Mercedes: *hugs Ash*

_________________

Mercedes: *leaving* It was fun seeing you! We will be there for the vital festival!

Jaune: Bye mom! See you next time!

Sun: Welp, it's been fun, but we gotta bounce. Ciao everyone!

Neptune: Yeah, Ciao!

Ash: *timidly* S-see you later! *Leave with Sun and Neptune*

RWBYJNPR: Bye!

Ruby: I like your mother.

Jaune: *smile* Everyone does... *Sigh*

Yang: What's wrong VB? Already missing her?

Jaune: No, just... *Looking at the gift from her childhood friend* Just having a bit of nostalgia, i guess.

[0bticeo]

may the odds be in your favour | coriolanus snow x fem! reader

series masterlist.

part 1. part 2. part 3. part 4. part 5.

chapter summary: blood will have blood.

“what makes you think that, put in the same circumstances, we wouldn’t turn ourselves into beasts to survive?”

there’s silence. there are twenty four gazes pinning you down to your seat. there’s coriolanus snow, blue eyes a shade darker than they were before you started talking. you meet his gaze and sense something shifting. it’s in the way he leans a tad bit closer, lips parted as though to speak – no. to taste.

wc. approx. 2000 words.

cw. sexual tension. probably innacurate anatomical description. manipulation. reader and coriolanus being assholes. death threat (implied). religious imagery. sleep deprived author.

weeks pass. snow greets you every morning at your front door and extends his arm to you until you have no choice but to link it with your own. occasionally, he brings a rose, gently tucking it in the lapels of your coat. in your hair, fingers gently brushing your cheek. in your breast pocket. 

you know it to be a blatant claim. here you are, proud descendent of the ash dynasty, allowing him to own you. you tell yourself it’s only for a few months. that, whatever the outcome may be, there’s no way that damned prize will escape you. you ignore the growing ache between your thighs, the way you lean into snow’s touch when he leads you back home. 

let him think he’s playing you like a fiddle. let him think he’s turned your own game against you. let him think, and weaponize the truth to your advantage. 

you have very few things left to your name. pride is one of them. you won’t discard it for his name.

what you will do is this. you will sit next to him in class, head held high, legs crossed under your skirt. you will not pretend you’re not enjoying the way his gaze burns into you whenever you turn one of his arguments against him in rhetoric class. oh, rhetoric.

etched in white remnants of chalk against the blackboard is the question you’ll have to treat today. there’s silence in the class, as you all take it in.

what are the hunger games for?

date’s fourth of february. in five months, maybe, you’ll get an answer that doesn’t rely solely on theory. that doesn’t rely on the minds of know-it-all, privileged bastards whose only experience of life has been luxury. for now, your only choice is to take your seat next to coriolanus snow and lean back ever so slightly, trying not to roll back your eyes.

they talk, all of them. felix ravinstill, arachne crane. 

the hunger games are a proud display of savages from the districts—to remind us that we are better than them.

clemensia dovecote. lysistrata vickers.

the hunger games are a reminder of what befalls the districts. that they should not stand against the capitol.

sejanus plinth.

it’s barbaric.

at that, your attention shifts. you focus on him, the one from district 2. the one whose father’s wealth was enough to bring to the capitol. the one with the dark curls and passionate fire in his eyes—he dreams of justice and fairness. interesting.

he doesn’t talk. no, he argues. finally someone who understands the noble art of rhetoric.

“putting them in an arena to fight—they’re doomed the moment their names are chosen! it’s inhumane, having them slaughter each other for our own entertainment!”

you watch him, cheek cradled in your palm. he’d make a good lawyer, you muse. the naive, righteous type. 

you watch the others. the way arachne crane rolls her eyes so far back in her skull you think they’ll stay stuck. the way felix ravinstill snickers, barely conceals his disdain for the district boy, for daddy’s precious boy. it’s palpable, the way they all disregard him. doesn’t matter if he’s wealthier than half the class—he’s district.

“what about you, ash?”

fucking snow.

you glance at him, from the corner of your eye. he’s been watching you, too. wonderful mise en abîme. you watch them, he watches you. who watches him? are you all being watched?

ah, he’s waiting. they all are. as if your opinion matters to them. as if it matters at all. but you have to put on your usual show, display your wit. so you lean back against your chair, lips drawn in a sharp, sharp smile, and say:

“why, it’s a dreadful reminder of human nature is all.”

there’s silence, then. twenty-four gazes are on you, and they’re waiting. 

what are you, a messiah?

snow smile, judas dressed in red.

“go on, ash.”

you do, martyr thrown to the lions.

“so far, the general sentiment has been that we’re better than them, those savages from the districts—don’t look at me like that ravinstill, i’m only quoting you.” 

you pause. you can’t outright tell them they’re influenced by a centuries-long tradition of countless philosophers. you’ll lose their interest.

“we think they’re savages. we see what we think is proof—footage of the games, of how they use anything at their disposal to slaughter themselves for our own entertainment, as plinth wonderfully put it.”

you nod in his direction and watch the glint of confusion is his eye, perceptible even from afar. poor boy will be torn to shreds if he doesn’t learn to conceal his emotions better. this is the capitol—worse arena known to panem.

(you think of your father’s flesh being torn by a man-beast’s bloody teeth in what was supposed to be a beacon of civilisation. you think of the dark abysses of his eyes, of the silent promise in them – you’d be next.)

you intend to make that fact known to those oblivious to it.

“what makes you think that, put in the same circumstances, we wouldn’t turn ourselves into beasts to survive?”

there’s silence. there are twenty four gazes pinning you down to your seat. there’s coriolanus snow, blue eyes a shade darker than they were before you started talking. you meet his gaze and sense something shifting. it’s in the way he leans a tad bit closer, lips parted as though to speak – no. to taste.

“those are bold words from such a young lady, miss ash. you shouldn’t speak so lightly of such grave matters.”

you realise that in the brief time your gaze met snow’s, your classmates have looked up. up towards esteemed casca highbottom who stares you down, short silhouette all-encompassing. there’s something in his tone that makes your blood boil.

you smile, sweet and sharp.

“then maybe we shouldn’t brooch the subject in rhetoric class, sir.”

the odds switch and twist and turn with each passing second. you might get a glimpse of what’s in store in the way the dean’s hand trembles as it reaches in the recesses of his robe – morphine.

he gulps down the contents of the small vial in one go.

“class is dismissed for today.”

when you leave the room, you feel the weight of his gaze like a knife between your shoulder blades.

you don’t like the feeling of it.

**

philosophy’s only worth it if you’ve got someone to discuss with. unfortunately, you don’t. rhetoric class doesn’t count. after the dean’s impromptu interruption, you don’t get to debate. not anymore. instead, he makes you pour over law texts – capital punishments for traitors. you think of it as a warning and keep your mouth shut.

what you do enjoy is anatomy class. which is why you’re currently in the library, pouring over a heavy tome, nibbling on your lip as your fingers trace over the shape of a drawing. it’s beautiful, an inked figure detailing the different veins in the neck. jugular. internal. external. carotid artery. dorsal scapular artery. your finger follows the pattern, lips parted in an inaudible murmur as you stare ahead. inferior thyroid vein-

“what are you doing?”

fucking snow.

you have half a mind to throw him an annoyed glare and go back to your drawing.

“what does it look like?”

he raises an eyebrow. inquisitive bastard, that one.

“studying. badly.”

this time, you raise your head.

“and does the great coriolanus snow have a better way to memorise the anatomy of the cervical region? enlighten me.”

he slides on the bench next to you. close. close enough for you to feel the warmth radiating from him. to smell him. roses, as usual. the same fragrance of the roses he gives to you each time he notices one withers away. (you don’t tell him you’ve kept them. each of them, pressed neatly between the pages of what books remain of your family’s once grandiose library.)

he unbuttons the top two buttons of his shirt, revealing the pale expanse of his neck. pale as snow. how very fitting.

“well? Where’s the external jugular?”

you let out a chuckle and move closer to him, until your fingers trail down his neck, following the path of his vein.

“what’s next, snow?”

he gulps, adam apple bobbing up and down ever so slightly. Leans into your touch as he glances down at the book – your fingers dig into his neck, until you feel his pulse, quick as the fluttering wings of a jay bird.

“inferior thyroid vein.”

there’s no pattern to the veins he’s asking you to map out on his skin. your fingers move slightly to the left. if you squint, you can make out its contours, faint blue line under the pale, pale skin. You wonder if you’d see it better if you’d blow on it. you do, softly, until you feel his breath catch in his throat – he coughs.

“next.”

“anterior jugular vein.”

you chose to start your path from the bottom, lightly pressing your finger over the button of his shirt – not yet undone, this one. you trail up.

“next.”

“external carotid artery.”

you chuckle at that. Ssomehow, you’ve moved closer to him. His hand has come to rest on your hip, steadying you as you trace the patterns that make up his life. you look up at him. he meets your stare, stark blue eyes darkening. pretty, deadly eyes.

“do you know the difference between the jugular vein and the carotid artery, snow?”

you move to his jaw, pressing your fingers lightly against the bone, until you’re all but cradling his face between your hands, a breath away from his lips.

“tell me.”

“the carotid’s harder to reach with a knife.” you lean forward. his eyes dart to your lips. “however, If i were to succeed, it would take you two minutes to die.”

when you lean back, you’re the one smiling.

"thank you for helping me study, snow. it's been most... enlighting."

[lets-try-some-writing]

An interesting au-ish scenario i thought up

Unicron: Earth the spark in this physical body at one point is going to go out. It is a smelter that needs to smelt or else the spark dies i should've made a better design but eh

Earth: Oh..

Unicron: I can with ease create myself a new vessel frame i will do that when your children kill out themselves fully and then you'll be able to transform and move freely

Moon: Then what?

Unicron: We travel the three of us together what else? I have many sights i want to show to the two of you in person. And space whales are worth listening to

Moon: *touched* ...Oh

Earth:  Aww..

Unicron: Ahem.. Cat lady and murderhobo are welcome to join in too if they want i suppose..The more the merrier.. or something ..

Just.. Death and his companions..  Traversing stars together.. Celestial travelers..(potential au name?)

And imagine the potential shenanigans.. It would be especially chaotic if Mars decided to tag along with his sparkling horde *Unicron voice* This is star dust *cue rover sparklings repeating star dust*

I can see this happening eventually.

Unicron will need to break from his slumber eventually. It is the way of the universe, and as Primus becomes more active, so too must Unicron in order to keep the scales even. By the time he actually rises from his slumber, Earth's children will have long since fled to the stars. Earth will be ready for her death. That is the way it was always meant to be. She was born to fill a vacuum, and with that vacuum quickly about to be filled, there would be no need for her.

But of course, in this happier future, Moon and Unicron will have long planned for this. Sweeping in just as he'd waited to do so for so long, Moon will rush to transform and begin working to pull Earth away from her father's frame. Unicron will assist in the effort by forcefully snapping away as much of his connection to Earth as possible, hopefully loosening her with a minimal amount of pain. It will still ache and pain her, but after so long resting and recovering from the burning of Cybertron, Moon will have the strength to pry her off of Unicron just in time for him to properly wake.

Earth, now free of Unicron's frame, will quickly attach herself to Moon. Merging will not be the most fun thing in the world, that with Earth's need to take energy from whomever serves as her host. However, once it is complete, Moon's mission will be complete, and finally the Titans present can deliberate on their next choice of action.

Unicron: The humans will lament the loss of their homeworld.

Moon: They can get over it. Earth shall endure no more pain with me. My citizens will care for the both of us.

Mars: That's all well and good, but what do we do now?

Pluto: I am still very on board with the idea of shooting that Unmaker.

Mars: Pluto, no. He's not insane anymore. I think the millennia spent in his time out box did him good.

Pluto: A bold statement from the one who has yet to let go of those rovers.

Earth: Enough... my children are scattered... I wish to see them... and travel the stars.

Unicron: And your wish shall be fulfilled. Long have you endured the threat of looming doom. But no longer. I shall not come for you this cycle daughter of mine.

Earth: You call me your... daughter?

Unicron: Of course. You are of me, and it is for you that I remain here so that I might show you the stars.

Moon: Took you long enough.

With the stars awaiting them, Unicron will travel alongside his Titan companions to show them the universe he and Primus worked to create. There will be no need to kill Primus just yet. That can come later... whenever the universe needs to be rebuilt from ash and dust. Let Earth and the rest see the place he and Primus created. There is no need to rush the end.

Death comes for all in good time.

[yaeggravate]

IF CAPITANO NOT ANFORTAS THEN WHY

does capitano have the three nails crucifixion constellation and anfortas is named after a guy whose suffering is compared to jesus on the cross and portrayed in art as jesus and stabbed with the holy lance in the same side as jesus and associated with the three staves tarot card in lauded poem the waste land

IF CAPITANO NOT ANFORTAS THEN WHY

is anfortas also the commander of an army, highly respected by his subordinates, took up the "mantle of salvation" during a crisis (stepped in as regent when king irmin failed to protect khaenri'ah), was possibly one of the mightiest figures in khaenri'ah (as alluded in the book perinheri), leader of the schwannenritter who were part of khaenri'ah's royal guard the black serpent knights while capitano is conveniently dressed as a black serpent

IF CAPITANO NOT ANFORTAS

then why did they force kaeya in the scene where varka's letter about capitano was being read in an event about lost family members, why does capitano wear the fatui coat in his final (?) design that has a fur boa and lapels that resemble kaeya's outfit, why does capitano use a cryo sword like kaeya in the manga and use somewhat similar moves

WHY WHY WHY

did kaeya's father say "we of the alberich clan should lead lives as those who blaze like fire, rather than those who wallow in the embers", which seems to reference natlan's rule: "the victors shall burn bright, while the losers must turn to ash", while the cn word 余烬 for ashes/embers is the same and according to the livestream capitano is in natlan because of the concept of "reignition" and the salvation of arthurian anfortas is described as a rebirth

WHY

did pierro say he failed to earn the favor of the "PREVIOUS ruler (irmin)" which implies he knows the last ruler anfortas is still out there

WHY

did capitano get bodied by mavuika? because the name anfortas means illness/weakness and arthurian anfortas was stuck between life and death suffering on the cross daily like capitano's jesus crucifixion constellation implies. HOPE THAT HELPS

[rei-ismyname]

Uncanny X-Men #4 FROM THE ASHES

Just going with raw thoughts here. Spoilers, of course.

Yikes

- We keep flashing back to the whirlwind romance of Sarah and Charles.

- I assume up there is its end.

- Either she's also a psychic or has some power stealing ability. Chuck was shown under Cerebro last issue and she tore off after the Outliers. So either she needed to know how to use it or she borrowed Chuck/Philip's telepathy. More on this.

- The pregnancy. They've been together a month which is not 'too soon' to know, assuming they had sex immediately, at least with 2024 knowledge. We know Chuck fought in the Korean War 1950-53 after Oxford so this is 1949 at the earliest, but who knows with comic book time. Not sure what pregnancy detection was like back then, though there's not much wiggle room to say definitively from a missed period.

- Neither baby trap nor woman scorned are especially great beats to use for a rounded villain, and I feel like they're trying hard to rehabilitate Chuck, so having him run out on a baby mama would not be a positive move.

- I'm getting the impression she's either a mutant or a supernatural being of some kind. 'I knew in that instant' makes the most sense to me if that's true.

When we last left the homeless team Logan had left for the same reason he always does - he feels like he shouldn't be around people. Me too buddy. It's getting a bit old to me he's just dealt with this in his solo which is implied to be a flashback/take place before Uncanny.

- Rogue 'knows' he's in trouble and exactly where he is. They act like it's a mystery but it's pretty obvious Chuck is behind this, or a psychic. Law of narrative economy says Chuck.

She's right.

- Are either of those true? I honestly can't remember early Rogue that well.

- I have to assume we're toning down his healing factor this era. Good good, though he should be acting differently.

Rogue doesn't have final girl instincts, that's for sure. I know comic books need fights but teams also need leaders. Rogue is not looking all that competent. Her leadership kinda needs to be shown to us and new readers.

- Rogue hits harder than Logan but he's a lot more durable and lethal. You have a teleporter. Just leave!

- Going with my earlier mutant/supernatural being theory, she's really got a one track mind. 'Motherhood' is not much of a personality. Bit surprising from Gail Simone tbh.

- Krakoa mention! Pretty sure Kurt is referring to the WHR Krakoa AKA we're not seeing it anytime soon. Kurt and Logan were the two biggest skeptics of Krakoa with Logan never trusting it so I'm just going to say this is straight up out of character. Kurt might say it to someone else but definitely not to Logan. Sigh.

Are these folks actually stressed here? He's survived a lot worse casually.

There she goes sniffing the 'childlessness' on Rogue. It's feeling kinda gross and uncomfortable to me at this point. Even a cisnorm tradwife demon or whatever surely has other interests.

- Same goes for Kurt. We know he likes God, despite coming off a huge crisis of faith on Krakoa. Dude has other interests. After that priest misfire in #1 I'd like something else. Personality. 4 issues feels like enough to say that Gail Simone doesn't know how to write Nightcrawler. This is basic shit and maybe she should have used a new character. She clearly wants the Rogue book but the familial relationship with Kurt is recent and not strong.

She's saying a lot without giving us much here, except the implication of magic.

- 10 has some magical significance, such as association with death and rebirth, the universe, perfection and power, transformation and divinity in humans.

- They're already out from Charles' thumb. Some impressive topographic knowledge there though.

- Okay then.

- Brian is Charles' father's name. It wouldn't surprise me if that was significant here. I don't want it to be, but...

- I might be missing something here but aside from vibes this asks more questions than it answers. Confirms the supernatural being theory, though this looks like a death/trauma rebirth as opposed to 'born that way.' Maybe she was chosen.

- Surprisingly candid though.

Get fucked Jubilee. You're not the last X-Men. Delusional.

- Logan has a healing factor. He doesn't really need Jubilee.

- Uh huh. Eldritch knights? I don't know and Gail doesn't want to tell us right now. That's fine.

-These 'X-men' are planning a raid on Graymalkin but they're looking like they'd struggle raiding a pantry. Cyclops has a point here, and considering the assessment of the kids was 'they don't fight as a team, they just attack' that applies to everyone here.

- I bet the Eye of Agamotto gets used next issue. That's a Chekhov's Gun that needs to go off and Gambit won't pull his weight much otherwise tbh. Seems unlikely Rogue is winning that fight solo and the team pulling together as a team using all resources would be a nice W for them. A sorely needed one.

- I feel like this had pacing issues more than anything. The Rogue fight was a bit repetitive and nobody is using their head. If we get a second wind into a win next issue that's not going to feel earned or satisfying. Characters should make mistakes. They've been punished for them, now we need to see a regroup and display of what makes them a team. What makes Rogue a leader and what makes them X-Men.

- When they fought the Outliers in issue two they were inexplicably losing and then they just won. I don't want that again. Tension has been established and a promise made - several promises even - we need to stop treading water and pay that off.

- A bit meh overall for the flagship book, but I have my biases. What did you think?

[neteyamssyulang]

✷ Reckoning Escape ✷

✷ Pairing: So’lek x Fem sarentu reader ✷

✷ Summary: What was once a peaceful day turned out to be the worst, now having to not only protect yourself, but your two children aswell.

✷ Warnings: Angst, Mentions of birth, mentions of death, Protective parents, bit of a happy ending.

✷ Word count: 3,621 ✷

✷ Translation(s): Tsne ma hì'i fa'ìla -> Shh my little angels, Yawne -> Beloved, Sa’nu -> Mom, Paskalin -> Honey, Sempul -> Father, Tsmuke -> Sister, Kehe -> No, Ma’Itan -> My son, Pefya kom nga -> How dare you, Mawey -> Calm.

✷ A/N: The second longest fic I’ve ever written 🫶🏼

✷ Tagging: @ikeyniofthetayrangi @itchaboi-itchyboy @aria-tempest @anemonelovesfiction @bambithewriter @kia-wolfie @sinful-tawtute

The roaring wind was deafening, drowning out all other sounds, but you knew they were there.

Your lungs burned, your arms felt like they were going to give out but you kept pushing on, you had to get your little ones to safety.

Small sobs pricked at your ears,"Tsne ma hì'i fa'ìla" you spoke softly holding your baby's closer. Your son An'tari and daughter Ona'te were only 8 years apart but yet inseparable. An'tari was the firstborn of you and your mate So'lek, followed by the baby Ona'te.

You gave So'lek what he always wanted, a family. And now the humans were trying to take it from him just like they took his clan, leaving him with nothing.

It's why your on the run now, they had somehow found the campsite where you all lived. What was once a beautiful home now lays in nothing but ash and dust.

So'lek was gone at the time, having to help out at the base. A part of you is happy he's still ok but another part is ill, what is he to think when he goes home and finds it in ruins, with no sign of his mate and children?

As much as you wanted to cry and give up, you couldn't. You had to be strong for your little ones.

-Flashback-

-August 5th, 2170-

After countless hours of pushing your son had finally been born. So'lek sat beside you, admiring the little baby you held in your arms.

The smile So'lek had was starting to hurt but he didn't care, eywa had given him a blessing. She gave him you, and now a beautiful son.

"He looks just like you yawne" you smiled, your heart felt so full at the moment like it was about to burst from adoration.

So'lek chuckled "He does doesn't he? What should we name the little one?", thinking for a second you finally spoke "An'tari"

-Present time-

You had managed to find a small cave that would hopefully be safe to stay in. Despite being drenched from the rain, your footsteps were silent like a palulukan.

Quickly you found a small spot at the back placing your two children down, An'tari immediately rushed to pick up his baby sister so she wouldn't cry, her little tail coiling around his small wrist.

Leaning down you placed a kiss atop both their heads "Be good my darlings, sa'nu won't take long I promise just stay hidden", An'tari nodded slowly "Yes sa'nu."

Smiling softly you made your way back out the cave in search of food along with something you could use for a fire.

-Flashback-

-October 17th, 2178-

The fire crackled as you layed back against your mate, An'tari was fast asleep on your lap while you held your newborn Ona'te.

She was so beautiful, almost a resemblance of you. "You did so well paskalin, thank you" he murmured kissing the nape of your neck.

You giggled softly "For what yawne?", So'lek chuckled wrapping his tail around your thigh "For giving me a family, i never thought it'd be possible but you never cease to amaze me" he spoke, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck now inhaling your scent.

This was a moment you never wanted to end, you finally had a family with the most wonderful mate anyone could've ever ask for.

-Present time-

You had only managed to find small twigs, maybe two good rocks and a whole skinned hexapede. Bringing it back to the cave was a hassle but you managed it.

The fire you did first so your children would be warm, your oldest scooted closer sighing in relief as the warmth flooded to him and his sister.

While you began preparing the food Ona'te had woken up, her cries echoing off the cave walls as An'tari tried calming her.

After a few minutes she was quiet, fast asleep once more. "Mama?" An'tari spoke, watching as you cooked.

Without talking your eyes off the fire you hummed "Yes darling?", Your son shifted so he was beside you now "Will we ever see sempul again?"

Your heart dropped at his words, truth be told you didn't know. You had no way of communicating as your com had been burned in the fire. "I don't know baby.. we can only hope eywa is on our side"

An'tari nodded, small tears spilling from his golden orbs. Once the meat was done you took it off the fire slicing it with your dagger that was already out.

Everything was finished now, turning to your son you patted your thigh for him to come sit which he obliged.

Bringing a piece of the hexapede meat to your lips, you gently blew on it then brought it down to your son slowly feeding him. You were hungry yourself yes but your children came first, once Ona'te awakened you'd feed her aswell.

Deeming An'tari was full you kissed the top of his head "Rest now ma'itan, ill take over with your sister."

The boy nodded handing Ona'te to you before moving off your thigh opting to lay close to the fire. You smiled down at your little girl, eywa had really blessed you and your mate with beautiful and wonderful children.

Now thinking of your mate, your heart felt like arrow heads were piercing it. You missed him dearly, missed his calming presence, his soothing voice. How he must feel right now not knowing whether or not his family is alive.

Tears now freely streamed down your face, you hated those pesky humans, hated how they were trying to destroy your family.

You didn't even realize your daughter had awoken till her little hand grabbed onto the small braids that dangled in your face. Her little smile and cooes bringing a small smile to your face.

Knowing you were gonna have to feed her, you began slowly eating the rest of the cooked hexapede while Ona'te gurgled watching you.

Just as you were finished eating she began getting fussy, you moved to lay against the wall behind An'tari while lifting your feathered top up, Ona'te immediately latched onto one of your nipples suckling on it.

While your daughter was feeding, you tried coming up with a plan in order to get back to the resistance base. It was a very long walk back but there was nowhere else to go, you had no choice.

The storm still hadn't let up, the trees swayed with it threatening to break. Ona'te finished eating, falling fast back asleep curled up in your arms, with your free hand you moved your top back into place.

As much as you wanted to sleep you had to stay alert, you couldn't risk something happening to your babies.

-So'lek's POV-

What was once a peaceful day turned out to be the worst, it was as if eywa was cursing him. So'lek was on his way back home, small gifts in hand for you and his children when he stopped in his tracks.

Everything was gone. You were gone, your children were gone, all that was left was a pile of ash and dust. So'lek fell to his knees dropping the gifts, first his clan now his family? What did he ever do to deserve this?

No, he refused to believe it, he refused to believe his family had perished. Rage now fumed him, the humans could do whatever they wanted to him but his family? Eywa they messed up big time.

-Your POV-

The fire had long been put out, you and your son huddled back into a corner trying to stay out of view from a few soldiers that had found your hiding spot.

This can't be happening, how did they find you? There were no tracks since the rain washed them away.

One of the soldiers chuckled looking at the small fire you had used prior to them finding the cave "Looks like someone has been here, better let the big guy know."

As they were walking out, Ona'te sneezed in her sleep, the soldiers halted in their steps "And they never left" another spoke, you could almost see the smirk on his face.

Your ears pinned back against your skull, looking down at your son you saw how scared he looked, how he clinged onto your leg muffling his sobs.

Tapping on his back you waited for him to look at you then gestured to his sister, picking up the hint he carefully took her into his arms. You gave them both a kiss on the forehead before walking out of the corner holding your hands up in surrender.

"Well well, if it isn't y/n" one spoke,"Mercer will be glad we found you" another added on. You hissed unsheathing your dagger "I would rather die than go back to that asshole!"

The soldiers exchanged a look before laughing "And what of your offspring?" You had failed to notice one of the soldiers sneaking behind you towards where your children were hiding.

"Kehe! Sa'nu!" An'tari shouted, thrashing in the soldiers hold while keeping his sister close to him. No..no this wasn't supposed to happen! The soldier brought them to the head one who's name was Lyle.

Lyle reached for Ona'te but withdrew once An'tari hissed at him "Fiesty children, must get it from their mother" he laughted, signaling for two soldiers to come and hold the child still.

You lunged at them but immediately stopped in your tracks when a gun was pointed to your sons head "I would advise you don't move y/n. You see, Mercer is quite upset that you’re still alive. You were never meant to live, much less start a family.

Tears threatened to fall but he was right though. Mercer ordered you and the rest of the Sarentu kids dead years ago, if it wasn't for Alma then you wouldn't be here right now.

Lyle smiled wickedly seeing his words having affect on you, leaning down he grabbed Ona'te from An'tari's arms, rolling his eyes when she started crying.

"Please! Do not hurt my children, they are innocent!" You begged him, Ona'te looked towards where your voice was coming from, her small hands making grabby motions at you "S-sa'n-u" she spoke.

One of your hands moved to cover your mouth, her first word.. you only wished it was under better circumstances.. An'tari beemed happily for a second before going back to squirming.

"Oh? Baby's first word huh?" One soldier chuckled, "Such a shame it will be her last aswell" he raised his gun pointing it at your daughter.

Whether it be your motherly instincts or just pure rage, you had enough of this. Before the soldiers could react, you grabbed Ona'te and An'tari, rushing out of the cave back into the pouring rain.

An'tari held onto you while trying to shield his sister from the rain, your ears twitched trying to pick up any sound over the storm.

Pushing yourself further, you could feel your heart thumping, threatening to jump out of your chest. Gunshots now rang in the air sounding closer and closer with each passing minute.

Finally after what seems like hours, the base appears in the distance, relief floods over you till a gunshot rings in the air and a hot searing pain travels through your right leg.

Those bastards actually shot you, ignoring the pain you kept pushing yourself till another gunshot split the air. Your vision went hazey as you fell to the forest floor, An'tari quickly picked up his sister who rolled from your arms crying.

"Sa'nu!" He screamed rushing over, there was blood pouring from your right side as well as your leg. You tried getting up but felt too weak "Ma'Itan.." you spoke softly looking at him "Go..take your sister, the base is just up ahead.."

The boy shook his head "I'm not leaving you sa'nu!" You gave a weak smile, lifting your hand to place it on his cheek "I will be fine, please my darling get to safety."

Sniffling he placed a soft kiss on your head before running towards the base keeping his sister close to him.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ ✦

-So’lek’s POV-

So'lek hissed at everyone who blocked his path leading to outside, "So'lek, So'lek, I know your upset but you don't even know where they are" Ri'nela tried explaining placing her hand on his shoulder.

His tail trashed behind him, "Out of my way! I do not care I will find them.” Shoving the rest of them, he made his way outside, starting to walk through the forest till a small figure caught his eye.

"Sempul!" The figure screamed. So'lek quickly ran realizing it was his son, but fear took place when a gunshot sounded and An'tari fell, still cradling Ona'te in his arms.

"Ma’Itan!" He shouted. Upon reaching his son, So'lek was relieved to know he was still alive with just a minor injury to his thigh. He picked up his son and daughter brushing the leaves and mud off them "Where is your sa’nu?"

An'tari whimpered, "Bad men hurt sa'nu, shot her, she told me to run and get to the base."

So'lek's heart dropped instantly. Fuming, he stood up pressing the com around his neck with his free hand "Nor, come now! There is no time to waste!"

Quickly he took off back to base meeting Nor halfway, Nor carefully took An’tari in his arms, trying to hold back his own anger when seeing his wound.

"Be good for uncle Nor ok?" So’lek spoke gently ruffling his sons hair before turning his attention to his daughter, still in her brothers arms. “Keep your tsmuke safe.”, "Yes sempul" the boy nodded.

He watched as Nor began running back to base before running back towards the direction his son was coming from.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ ✦

Your face was stained with your tears as the soldiers crowded around your body, "We have a little surprise for you darling" one spoke, grinning mischievously.

You were too weak to care about that, all you cared about was if your children made it to safety. The circle of soldiers parted letting a single man through, your eyes narrowed at who it was.

Mercer smiled, "Ah y/n, so good to see you again." He crouched down infront of you, "I hear you have a family now, see that won't do."

Lifting your head you gave a weak hiss,"Oh cmon you can do better than that" he signaled for a solder to stand behind you. The soldier lifted one of his legs before stomping down onto your wounded side making you scream in pain.

"There ya go" Mercer chuckled clapping his hands. "This is how it was always meant to be, with you and the rest of those students dead."

He was about to continue when an arrow hit one of the soldiers killing them instantly, "Who's there?!" Mercer shouted into the darkness. You knew through.

Another arrow flew, hitting the two soldiers that were close together. More and more went flying till Mercer was the only one still alive and standing, your body felt as if it was on fire now despite it being cold as hell from the rain.

Frustrated, he turned his back looking at you now. Big mistake, a gunshot rang through the air hitting him in the left side, Mercer groaned falling down.

So'lek jumped down from his perch in the trees, stalking towards the humam. "Pefya kom nga!" So'lek hissed, shooting him in the right side this time, just as they did you.

Mercer just laughed as he coughed up blood, "You think this will all end once i'm dead? You're wrong." Annoyed, So'lek shot him in the head, shutting him up completely.

Carefully he picked you up, beginning to run back to base. "T-the chil-dren.." you murmured drifting in and out of consciousness.

He frowned, "They are ok" he spoke, purposefully leaving out about An'tari being injured. You nodded weakly, still trying to hold on for the sake for your mate and children.

By the time So'lek had made it back to the base, you were unconscious from how much blood you lost. The tawtute doctors took you from his arms and into the medical room, he tried to follow but they wouldn't allow it.

So he opted to sitting in the lounge area, hopefully waiting for good news about either you or his son. Ri'nela had at some point joined him, holding Ona'te in her arms "You know, I heard from Nor that At'ari said she spoke her first word"

So'lek's ears pricked as he moved his gaze to Ri'nela,"S-she did?" Now looking at his little girl who stared back at him cooing. Ri'nela nodded handing her over to him, "She said sa'nu"

Even though he was hoping she said sempul first, he was still happy his daughter finally spoke. He only wished he had heard it.

Ri'nela noticed his ears pinning back and a scowl tugging at his lips "Hey hey, I know you missed it but atleast they are back now. Your mate is strong, so are your children."

With that she stood up walking back to Nor and the others.

So'lek watched as his daughter giggled grabbing onto one of his fingers, her little hand barely able to wrap around it.

Close to 4 hours have passed with no word about you, he was happy his son was alright but the doctors had said nothing regarding you. So'lek only thought of the worst.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ ✦

-Flashback-

-January 25th, 2163-

You laughed as So'lek chased after you, his own laughs pricking at your ears. Eventually he caught up to you tackling you to the forest floor.

"Gotcha paskalin!" He smiled looking down at you "Cheater" you huffed pouting."It is not cheating just because I am faster than you little one" he chuckled placing a soft kiss against your lips.

Immediately you melted into the kiss pulling him down, closer to you. He broke the kiss after a bit to trail kisses from your jaw down to the neck licking a stripe along it "Eywa knows how thankful I am for you y/n" he spoke softly leaning up a bit to look at you.

All you could see in his eyes was the love and adoration he held for you.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ ✦

-Present time-

One of the doctors eventually came out stating you had made it but had to stay there so they could monitor how your doing.

So'lek wasted no time in rushing in, walking to the large bed you layed on, another doctor had brought An'tari in placing the boy gently onto the bed before leaving you all alone.

Your eyes slowly fluttered open, vision slightly blurry till you regained focus. Your gaze landing on your mate and children, An'tari was quick to crawl up the bed towards you snuggling into your chest sobbing.

"Ma'itan.. what is wrong?" You cooed rubbing his back softly, So'lek moved till he was right beside you holding Ona'te in his arms still.

An'tari refused to speak just wanting to hold his mother, eventually crying himself to sleep. You frowned looking at your mate "I'm so sorry Ma'Lek.."

So'lek tilted his head crouching down "Sorry for what yawne? You protected both them and yourself with everything."

You shook your head sobbing quietly "If that were true I would not be here and our son would not be injured", So'lek's eyes widened, how did you find out? He purposefully kept it from you so you wouldn't worry and could relax while he handled it.

Looking down at your son still asleep in your arms you grit your teeth "The doctors mentioned it to me when I woke earlier, how could you not tell me our son was shot?!"

So'lek looked away, his ears flattened against his head "I'm sorry paskalin, you were badly injured I did not want you to worry and risk something."

Your gaze softened "You do not get to decide that for me, no more hiding things please.." So'lek nodded leaning down to place a kiss on your lips "I am so sorry I was not there to protect you all though."

Lifting your left hand up you placed it on the back of his head bringing him closer till your foreheads touched "Mawey, no one knew what was going to happen."

He nodded pulling away, you could now see tears rolling down his face. It was at that moment aswell that Ona'te had woken up, her small cooes filling the room as she stretched in her fathers arms yawning.

So'lek looked down at his daughter who smiled at him "Se-sepul" she giggled before looking around the room, her gaze now on you.

You chuckled looking from her to your mate "It was close to it, but she still said mama first", your mate huffed rolling his eyes playfully "Guess we'll just have to have another then yawne" he smirked winking.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ ✦

Four months have passed now, you'd been released from the base and now are home with your family, your new home wasn't as big as the last but you didn't care as long as you had your mate and children.

True to his words you also wound up pregnant, about maybe 3 weeks along. So'lek had never left you or the kids out of his sight, not even for a second. He feared if he did something would happen.

Honestly you didn't mind it, not one bit. An'tari had healed quickly and began practicing shooting arrows with his father while you and little Ona'te took small naps here and there waiting for them to finish.

You could only hope that now you all were safe.

[nanamimizz]

𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍 𝐇𝚬 𝐆𝚶𝐓 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘…

…𝐓𝐀𝐊𝚬 𝐇𝚬𝐑 𝐅𝐑𝚶𝐌 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝚬𝐀𝐕𝚬 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐍𝚶𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆.

author’s note: set in the yandere blade universe! part of a more significant piece in mind willing to answer questions about it. reader, the daughter of a cloud knight general was in an arranged marriage with blade before he became a criminal and took on the mantle blade - we aren’t aware of what his name used to/was so he is referred to as blade continuously. the reader is a social pariah and is married to a second husband. while we do not know exactly what blade and dan heng did together, we assume it was a creation of sorts, so that is implied. please keep in mind there is kidnapping in this piece but when this is out in it's bigger state there will be more heavy dc within the story!!

tags: +18 minors dni! dc content within, fem reader! arrange marriages, implied cheating/unfaithfulness, jealousy, angst, kidnapping, crying, mentioning of murder- let me know what i missed !

synopsis: a ghost shows his face - the past never dies, especially here in the xianzhou luofu.

You were frightened - it’s what you say to yourself as you grip the pillow beneath you, trembling in your inner clothes. It was like seeing a ghost, an apparition of your shameful past as red eyes leered at you from above, framed by long blue-black strands of his hair. Tilting his head you can hear the ornaments of his clothing and his earring clink quietly, paired with your trembling breaths; it’s all that can be heard in the room you share with your second husband. The man in front of you is like a cursed statue, unflinching, unmoving and unbreathing.

Still and present - like a stain you can’t get out, the past that will never die. He will lick his wounds and even if he were to lose a limb, his memories or his mind, the man known as Blade will always appear before you like a dog that doesn’t know any better. His eyes never leave you, even as you choke out the words and clutch the thin jade necklace he gave you as a wedding gift you still wear.

“Are you here to kill me?” Your words are punctuated by the cold sweat that runs down your cheek that he eyes with hunger.

“No. Of five people, three must pay a price…you are not one of them. Destiny has decreed that we will be together again.” His words turn your fear to anger. Fear, anger, betrayal - you think of your marriages. Though you grew to love the man he was once, your love had always been for the highest bidder. Blade’s former self’s talent was unmatched and your current lecherous husband’s money were the reasons for you being promised to these men. Love was never in the cards for you and even the man you did love had caused you so much strife because he couldn’t stay away from what intrigued him. Despite your counsel, your pleading, your begging - your life turned to ash in your mouth.

“Destiny? That is why you are here before me - because of the ramblings of a mad man?” You ask, tone impudent and harsh. If this was anyone else you’d be embarrassed, you were raised better than that but you just can’t help yourself at this moment. You didn’t even realize that you had tears stinging your eyes until he had drawn closer, knees to the bed and a gloved hand reached to cup your cheek. You couldn’t stop him even if you wanted to, once you were a proud warrior, the apple of your father’s eye and strong.

But after the incident you were stripped of it all - your weapon, your strength and even your father’s love.

You are weak and alone, a frightened woman with tears in her eyes at the mercy of the man she once loved. How pathetic you are, still the same from when you lost everything crying before all at the gravity of your loss.

“I made you cry.” He speaks finally, the artificial moon making his eyes glow like a crow’s in your room. His thumb rubs at your cheek and the affection is haunting as he would do this when his name was familiar to your tongue. You haven’t been touched so gently in a time, depraved of it for so long you don’t have it in you to smack his hand away. You’ve heard him say those words before - the memory makes you flush.

“You’ve always made me cry.” You say, tone warbling as you look at him with red eyes that almost match his. Blade makes a sound, confused but wanting and you look away to bring forth memories from when your lives were intertwined.

“Throughout our arrangement you didn’t say a word when we first met, I cried because I thought you found me repulsive. And you only gave me swords as gifts in the beginning, I thought it was because you didn’t find me womanly.” You laugh a little at that one, teary and soft because at the time you were driven mad about what to do but now you can’t help but find it humorous. The man before you was your blue spring of youth, and the winter of your death all the same.

 “Were we arranged?’ He murmurs, confused as his eyes scrunch in the same way they did when he would begin to craft some new tool for the artisans. You nod, letting small drops of salt water drip down your face.

“Yes. My father thought you were brilliant. He wanted to sponsor your talent, and through our marriage, you received financial help for your crafts.” You explained, feeling your cheeks turn tacky at the talk of finances. He nods, and again there’s a fog in his eye - a glaze that dulls his warrior sense as he begins to reach back into his mind for his ghosts of the past.

“That’s how me and Dan Fen-”

“Don't mention that man’s name to me.” You cut him coldly and it makes him laugh. Despite what you may think he does have some memories of you - your smile and the gentle way you would hold out your hand for finches to rest in your palm. It’s humorous to see you so harsh, like a lion cub growling.  

“Don’t worry, I plan to kill him when the time comes.” He says and it shames you to admit but that promise does soothe you some.

“I don’t care, I hate him. I hate you.” You say and Blade huffs an amused sound. Condescending and almost patronizing, you are aware that you sound like a petulant child.

“You’ve let me get rather close, for a man you hate.” He tries to tease but his voice is too monotone and you only grow more annoyed as you narrow your eyes and hiss at him.

“That’s because for as much as I hate you, I still love you. You were my first love, how could I possibly let you go?” You mutter the last bit but he still catches it and something smug grows in his chest at your admittance.

“Only love.” Blade says and you look at him bewildered.

“I am your only love. Unless you’ve fallen for the pig that is your current husband.” You blink and a new emotion glitters between your lashes and he wonders if he has made you cry again.

“Only love…yes…that’s right. A curse I must bear.” You say and he says nothing, as he supposed he must be like a stain on your life.

“Are you happy here?” Blade asks suddenly and it makes you glance at him from under your lashes that are still dewy with saltwater. It's a redundant question, the answer hangs in the space between the two of you - the liminal space that can be seen between the sun and the moon. Your voice cracks, and you answer him with a voice so bitter it makes Blade grin.

“No. No I’m not.”

“Would you like to leave?”

“Yes.”

Red eyes close to let his grin widen, a sight that before made you smile back then when he was younger and an awkward young man. Now all it does is drive a chill down your back, cold sweat like icicles down the fabric of your inner clothes as dread fills you up to your head. His head comes closer, you drown in a sea of banners and wine, your breath stutters and you don’t even see it - the tranquilizer in his hand that he is quick to inject you with. He is the last thing you see, and the last thing you feel is the ghost of his lips brushing against yours.

He laughs - a dark and cool sound that makes you whine like a frightened dog.

“Come with me then, just like it used to be - back then, now again.”

The celestial boat continues its journey, the artificial night sky filled with the stars it imitates but the only thing, when you wake up in a bed that is most unfamiliar next to a man who is both past and present you finally see the true stars for the very first time.

[ananke-xiii]

Although I mainly see the first six episodes of s13 as an engaging portrayal of two grief-stricken people lacking the tools to deal with what has happened to them, I can also totally see them as the so-called "widower arc". Two things can be true at the same time because yes, Dean was totally grieving Cas' death. But I'll make it worse for you.

Maybe I'm biased by the many times I've read the term "widower arc" but Dean was 100% looking for a consort in Cas in s12 (yes, "consort", I'm tired of "partner" or "boy/girlfriend", they're weak terms, give me "sharing destiny" type of old words) so I think this interpretation is not so far-fetched.

We have a grieving widow(er), a desired consort who's dead and then resurrects and a son who's been defined as "the rising son". As I've already said these are some of the elements of one of the most ancient myths in Western culture, that is the myth of Isis and Osiris.

Now, of course it was not a retelling of that myth, I don't even think it was a conscious effort to shape the story that way but sometimes symbols will be symbols, what can you do?

First of all, two brothers: Set and Osiris and Lucifer and Cas. We know how it goes, one brother kills the other (As an aside in one version Set built a wooden chest and tricked Osiris to enter into it just to seal it and drown it in the Nile. We have totally NEVER seen this image in Supernatural. Not even ONCE).

Things get very interesting from here on because in the myth there's a lot of focus on the body of the deceased brother, Osiris/Cas. The most famous way Set disposed of his brother's corpse was to cut it into pieces, to... tear him apart if you will. It is then kinda WILD that AU!Michael kills "his" Lucifer the same way:

MIchael: I killed my Lucifer. Tore him apart in the skies over Abilene. But hey, can’t get enough of a good thing.

Apparently, the body must be somehow intact for resurrection to happen. In the myth Isis has to find his husband's bodyparts scattered all over Egypt in order to resurrect him. So we need to pay extra close attention to Cas' body which we are actually shown in that tragic scene where Dean prepares him for the pyre. So it's Dean who takes care of Cas' body, who "collects" it, just like Isis. Interesting.

In SPN "What gets burned stays dead", therefore Cas cannot resurrect, or so they think. The mantra is repeated by Jack in "Tombstone" when he first sees his father. To be honest, we don't really know how Cas resurrects. For the first time we see what happens to him between death and rebirth but we miss the technicalities. We can only assume that Cas' ashes were enough. Or maybe, just maybe, that's just a rule that applies in Chuck's story. Just saying.

I'm not sure if they try to discover how Jack managed to do that but the point remains: it was Jack who woke Cas up in the Empty.

And why did he do that? Well, because he can. The very first thing that Jack does is resurrecting Kelly in an episode aptly named "The Future", where Jack is sort of introduced via his mother's resurrection. He doesn't know how to use this power but he unconsciously does it again with his father. And I ask again: why?

Jack wakes Cas up in "The Big Empty", four episodes into the season. He could've done it sooner? No. Because what prompts him to unconsciously act is Dean's grief. And Dean reaches his boiling point when Sam finally provokes him. Osiris/Cas dies and his consort Isis/Dean is inconsolable. Other people like Sam can forget about it, but Dean can't in every sense of the verb.

In the myth it's Isis who resurrects Osiris and has a child, Horus, with him. But she got help. Dean's only human but there is a demi-god running around in his bunker so I think that helped. And Cas must be credited for the effort and the pushing.

Let's just say that resurrecting Castiel took three, actually four people okay? It required a team effort. Because none of them is a fully-fledged god like God or Amara or some Archangel who can just snap their fingers and boom welcome back to Life. Coaxing someone into resurrection (a resurrection with consent) takes a lot of willpower... and a lot of love.

I said four people because the last character in this little story is The Shadow. And we see this in the myth as well!

Isis doesn't "just" resurrect Osiris, she has to convince the motherfucker. Cause, you see, Osiris's heart was tired. A tired heart! Oh so beautiful! He didn't see the reason to go back to life. He was sooo tired. Isis has to literally seduce him back to life. And... this is kind of what The Shadow does, but in reverse? It tells Castiel to go back to sleep, to find peace, it's been in his mind and he wants to sleep, it knows!

The Shadow is Cas' tiredness, all his failures and regrets. But, as I said, it takes a lot of willpower and a lot of love to resurrect the dead, this is what Isis teaches us actually. To love more and then some more. And Cas loves back and he loves hard.

Castiel: You can prance and you can preen and you can scream and yell and remind me of my failings but somehow, I’m awake. And I will stay awake and I will keep you awake until we both go insane. I will fight you. Fight you and fight you for…ever. For eternity.

He didn't come back because he annoyed an ancient cosmic being. He came back because he loved.

So Osiris/Cas are back to life and that's good, right? Well... yeahhh. The thing is that Osiris will then live in the world of the dead so he kinda doesn't really really stay alive for long. And Isis will follow him. Things will likely go bad for Cas.

But the story continues!

Set/Lucifer and Horus/Jack engage in a rather disturbing (in the myth) struggle for power. The myth has different endings: in one they reconcile, in another they divide the realm, in yet another one Horus is the one true winner. So we don't really know (from this point in the narrative) how things will actually turn out for the two of them.

Isn't it interesting? Well, it's not surprising because there is a connection between christian stories and greek and egyptian ones but still? Kinda cool to see how myths keep repeating and repeating. As if we're still trying to understand them.

Anyway: yes to the widower arc, yes to love piercing through the veil of death. Both ways! It takes the love of two to resurrect.