#when i have more details ill be letting you all know

[faeriegirl]

Jumping on the bandwagon 🩵✨️

[whatudottu]

What better way to practice new prosthetics then to piss of the bitch that got you to need them in the first place!

In other news, my pirate ocs Gali and Ido (with a third Meridi not present) who are the two sides of the fulmini cult escapees :P

A bit of backstory under the cut since they're the only fuckers I have WITH a backstory! Which btw does detail cult shit so :P big fat warning for that-

The inciting incident on Petropia that introduced it's modern underground population to the surface named the Surface Craze was in all due part because of fulmini interference at the behest of the High Override, who saw what was initially just a planet entirely made of quartz-like crystal the Override Fleet could use as a power source. Having instead found that the planet was not only populated but by a species of the living variant of that same quartz-like material - electrical properties and all - but that additionally they can regenerate their crystalline body so long as they have the energy to pull from.

Seeing this as a solution to the fulmini's energy crisis - a perpetual machine at it's finest - the High Override sought to heh... acquire some petrosapiens for themselves. To their collective benefit, a community of petrosapiens had found their faith and world shattered, previously having been extremely devoted to the Sugi religion (derived from the ancient texts of Thuugi back when their tongues were long enough to be bitten off). Instead of needing to drag away dissenters who fought tooth and nail against the invaders, this community had already shifted their faith onto the false prophet of the High Override, which already had them fall into the Coupled Override head over heels.

The cult has now expanded it's pool of prey, and like the unwilling fulmini who gives the High Override their tithe (their minds, their central colony), the petrosapien cultists pay with their arms.

50 years (or the closest equivalent) into this arrangement, 50 years Petropia spent experiencing the surface for the first time in generations, Ido was born into the cult far away from the planet she should have known as home. Any doctor worth their salt had enough brains and stubbornness to not fall into faith-based trust of the Coupled Override, so between the lack of those and the remainder pseudoscience physicians left to echo chamber themselves, when Ido began developing Excessive Compression Disorder (ECD, a nerve-equivalent disorder that causes tension fractures throughout a petrosapien's crystalline structure) despite the rather obvious visible signed she went undiagnosed and improperly treated. At the age of 200 - a petrosapien's coming of age, and 50 years after Petropia's destruction - it was Ido's time to pay her tithe and begin her offerings to the High Override.

Gali - her sacrifricant - was to sever her arms below the elbow, as was procedure. What wasn't was the near explosive response from external pressure, or the last compressive force needed to completely shatter what had already started to break.

Cutting people's arms off is technically already a violent act however, though the lower arms survived the procedure as expected, the elbow and even upper arm had scattered shards of glass-fragile crystal in a visceral radius and physically severed through the sacrificant's central colony; then Gali was abruptly severed from the High Override after they felt as if a limb began necrotising. Sacrificants nor executioners really need an active memory to do their jobs, so Gali didn't need to have memory for however long their colony was one with the High Override's. Forcefully amputated from the larger system like an infection without any of the memories of being apart of said system however, kind of rewinds a colony back to the people they remember being long before any interference.

While Ido was caught staring wide-eyed, fearful, and newly lacking the limbs she thought she could regenerate easily - her arms try and try but they shatter like glass, crumble like sand, and she violently shudders like gravel grinding into each other - Gali regained access of their long unused senses and found a sea of hostile enemy combatants staring back. With all the training of a military general with none of the present self-awareness to realise they were the cause of the currently very panicky rock's lack of arms, Gali almost like a flick of a switch reverted to the many rules of engagement regardless of the fact that they were sporting exposed central colony that may or may not have been another's with their own collection of memories.

Seeing to rescue someone who had all their rights to fear them, Gali and Ido fled to the stars.

With a few language barriers mixed with someones learning they haven't spoken much longer then anyone thought they did, discovering how planets that were meant to be each other's home have been destroyed and irrecoverable, and learning the before and after to the horror story that is the High Override and their cultist network of external nerves and collective colony, Gali and Ido may or may not have gotten arrested :P

And they probably would have been tried for crimes neither of them could particularly understand not having learnt any of the common universal languages, up until the point the prison ship was raided by a collective of pirates only working together for equal cuts of the profits (the Plumbers used a prison ship to transport the Annihilargh while they still thought it to be a threat, what's to say they wouldn't simultaneaously transport prisoners - aka, the fucking point - with some high sought-after McGuffin). The pair would meet Meridi, a galvan with a penchant for mechanics and especially the kind that deceives an observer like - for instance - an android suit.

Meridi isn't here but gist is, she pilots both her own ship and an android resembling a human, and spies a pretty prize of walking talking taydenite. Instead of scoring a deal, she takes into consideration (perhaps with a cold calculation rather than a warm sympathy) the condition of ECD affected crystals and how much effort it would take to actually refine it and deems turning Ido into pocket change isn't worth it. In fact, further taking note of the explosive volatile footwork of crystallokinesis with the additional muscle of a fulmini veteran, actively helping Ido (and Gali by proxy) would potentially turn out more of a profit.

Gali isn't in dire need for hiding, but Ido uses shadow and a human-mouth jaw mask as tools to conceal what price her skin costs, while Meridi attempts to make prosthetics for a species that doesn't have nerves that also takes into account the unstable electrical currents produced by the compression of crystalline motor functions.

A bit of a tangent in a very long not-even-bothering-to-summarize backstory, I want to talk about petrosapien prosthetics, at least ones that can have 'motors' like Ido's arms (not like Chio's leg). With no external muscles to help strap in and extend the remnant of tendons humans have running through limbs, petrosapien exoskeletons do not offer the same interconnectivity and do not have easy ways to extend what had been cut off. Myoelectric limbs again by human standards also do not fit petrosapien nervous systems either, especially since the only nerves they have are in their equivalent of the central nervous system which also interacts with internal organs, the peripheral nervous system of a petrosapien operates with the highly structured yet individually unique non-standardised crystalline formations and compression. What Meridi does however is take material from Ido's crystal to create the joints in a conductive copper rod prosthetic (insulated in rubber to prevent harm to others), where Ido's compression triggers electricity to run down to remotely compress the crystal joints, which compress under the pressures of electricity and send the signal to be compressed again until motility is achieved.

And that is a lot of context :P woops- I either make no backstory or I make this convoluted piece of moving puzzle pieces, the duality of man I suppose :P

[icewindandboringhorror]

I occasionally wish to reach out to old friends/acquaintances I haven't spoken to since high school/some other even earlier time in my life, but I have SOOO little social energy even for required tasks (like making dr phone calls or etc), I never have any leftover for extra ones, and it would be very odd to message someone I haven't spoken to in like 5 years out of the blue but then take 4 entire months to respond back lol.. My natural curiosity with nostalgia/collecting details of the past/etc. (literally if I were born a little earlier I would definitely do scrapbooking or something lol) is very strong, but, alas, not strong enough to beat out the Social Issues Demons apparently

[toytulini]

the challenge of i should commission art of my ocs. would love to commission like, siiyr or bokrae, maybe krachyn or jula. siiyr or bokrae would make the most sense, maybe krachyn. i think theyre the ones with the most detailed notes on their anatomy

but also

oh god i cannot subject another artist to the anatomical war crimes i committed in making these ocs

[awek-s]

ohhhh desperately need to leave this house before i kill myself I fear it’s coming 🤣🤣

[kits-ships]

told myself that i dont care for any of the goo/d ome/ns theories out there but for some reason my brain just went

[embervoices]

A very useful thread on Bluesky:

(There is a lot more. Rather than give you all the images, I've copied the full text below.)

Meredith Rose‬ ‪@mrose.ink‬ November 8, 2024

This is not going to be a repeat of 2016-2020. It will be better, it will be worse, but most of all it will be different. Here are things I want every single person to keep in mind as we head into round 2 of a Trump admin.

My credentials: I’m a queer female public interest attorney working on tech policy in DC. I’ve been doing this for a decade--longer than some, not as long as others. I had to navigate three different administrations, as well as Congress, regulatory agencies, courts, and the advocacy world.

FIRST: don’t let despair override your media literacy.

The left has grifters, just like every other movement. If you’re able and compelled to donate, give to orgs with established track records. Avoid giving to individuals, especially anyone who emerges overnight with a one-weird-trick “plan.”

The left is not immune to misinformation, and everyone—EVERYONE—falls for it sometimes, present company included. There is no shame in it. When (not if) it happens to you, you should acknowledge it; delete or retract the post to reduce the spread; and move on.

If a source consistently shares half-truths or outright misinformation, it is not trustworthy, no matter how much “their heart is in the right place.” Unfollow and move on.

Prediction, analysis, and reporting are three fundamentally different things. Learn to identify them for what they are. Reject attempts by amateur “analysts” to predict the future. They know as much as you do.

Real subject matter experts know and acknowledge their limits. They’re also (usually) hesitant to try and predict the future. The best frame their predictions in terms of a range of possible outcomes. Subject matter experts may also disagree with one another! It happens!

SECOND: What we know for sure about how the Trump, how he operates, and how that will impact the next four years.

Trump is a narcissist who avoids reading and doesn’t care about details. He cannot be persuaded by argument or logic; he’s moved mostly by flattery, and will agree with the last person who flattered him. He can and will upend his own administration’s work without warning, often by tweet.

As a result, most policy experts—even those "on his side"—dread him taking an interest in their field. Ask any Republican staffer who worked in Congress during the last administration, and most of them will confirm that their greatest fear was Trump tweeting about anything related to their work.

As such, people who are serious about their work will do everything to make it as invisible and boring-seeming as possible. This is the policy equivalent of defensive camouflage. Lots of “normie” work will continue in silence. (The lion’s share of tech policy ends up in this bucket.)

If you have a niche issue that you care about, now is a great time to donate to orgs that work on it. Lots of money will be funneled to big legacy orgs working on headline issues: ACLU, climate change orgs, etc. Consider sending your donations where they matter most: local, niche, established.

Trump runs his cabinet like the Apprentice. He thrives on chaos and making people compete for his approval. Not only does he not reward collaboration between his subordinates, he actively undermines it.

Moreover, everyone who works with him knows that they’re vulnerable to being thrown under the bus at a moment’s notice, for any reason (or for no reason at all). His cabinet is going to be scorpions in a bottle. They will not be able to coordinate, for good or ill.

One scorpion can still do a lot of horrific damage. But large scale inter-agency coordination is unlikely, particularly after the first few months, by which point he will likely (prediction warning!) have gone through a handful of cabinet secretaries already.

FINALLY: The view from inside civil society heading into 2025.

In 2016, Trump was a largely unknown quantity. The left and establishment right alike wasted a lot of time trying to read tea leaves and make sense of this guy, because he was completely outside the realm of what anyone had dealt with. That’s not happening now.

He did us a favor by broadcasting his plans in advance (aka Project 2025). Civil society has spent the last 2.5 years strategizing around it. We’re not starting off flat-footed.

The Biden admin did a good amount to future-proof its own achievements. Folks can speak to their own areas of expertise, but clean energy and CHIPS and Science Act (investing in domestic semiconductor production) have benefitted from huge sunk investments. That money’s not getting clawed back.

OVERALL TAKE-AWAYS:

It's going to suck. But civil society and the political left have some advantages we didn't have last time. We know him, we know his angles, and we know who he's bringing in--none of which we had in 2016.

We'll get through this. It will be grim, but we'll get through it.

John Cutting‬ ‪@johncutting.bsky.social‬

Thanks Meredith. I really valued your analysis over the past few years, and I think this is a reasonable, actionable framework to think about the upcoming storm

Meredith Rose‬ ‪@mrose.ink‬

I really cannot overstate how much time was (necessarily) wasted in 2017 trying to figure out this guy and his influences. The fact that he's not only a known quantity, but ran the most over-studied administration in this nation's recent history, makes this a very different game.

John Cutting‬ ‪@johncutting.bsky.social‬

I bet we can weaponize his narcissism. Let's say some ghoul starts making progress with a mass deportation effort, if we start calling that ghoul that "shadow president" en masse, Trump would fire him in right away and appoint Hulk Hogan or something

‪Meredith Rose‬ ‪@mrose.ink‬

This is exactly why I don't think Musk will last very long. Trump is very clear that he's the only one in the room allowed to have an ego or any kind of brand name.

[sluttysnowangel666]

His Second Wife - cregan stark x reader (request)

summary: two years following the death of cregan’s first wife, he accepts an undesired marriage proposal to rhaenyra targaryen’s daughter. rhaenyra’s daughter, who had loved cregan the moment she first met him as a young girl, immediately loves and accepts cregan’s first child as her own. yet it is still not enough for cregan to find his own love for his new wife.

cw: mean cregan😓, widow!cregan, targ!reader, loss of virginity(reader), rhaenyra’s daughter, angst to fluff, unrequited love, sex, happy ending

do yall notice i always post a long ass story usually around midnight or later ( i’m unwell)also this is long af soz it was a detailed request and I wanted it to be to a T. this is SOO long. i prolly should have done two parts… oh well @lillithsalvatore hope you enjoy it love ❤️

“How do you feel, my love?” Your mother asked, placing a warm and comforting hand on yours.

You sighed. “Nervous.”

She gave you that warm and sweet smile of hers. “I know. I hope you know this choice was not easy for me to make, as I know this was a hard task for me to place upon you.”

“I know, mother.” You say with forgiveness, giving her hand a squeeze.

“Had it been any other lord I would have surely declined but… Starks are the most honorable among men. I know your union will be blessed by the gods.”

You give her a smile, blindly trusting her words. You had met him once, and you knew he was kind. In fact, he had left a paw shaped imprint on your heart. You thought to yourself no union could be more suitable. You knew he had married once before out of a prior marital alliance, but the marriage had been short lived, lasting only a year before his first wife died in her birthing chambers.

It took more than four moons before you arrived at Winterfell, as if every power in the world was set on preventing it. You were not a superstitious person, so you simply thought all the bad things that happened prior to your marriage was coincidence.

Each time you went to leave, something prevented you. Your mother miscarried your baby sister, Lucerys was killed by Aemond, Daemon went silent at Harrenhall, Rhaena ran away and was lost in the eyrie before revealing she claimed Sheep-stealer.

You arrived in the dead of winter, and the journey had not been kind to you. You got a chill on the way up, causing you to stop at an inn for a few nights, you had came across raiders who killed one of the many men escorting you, and your clothes were ill suited for the weather.

You did eventually arrive at Winterfell thankfully, all in one piece.

You stepped out of the carriage cautiously, eyeing the snowy landscape surrounding you. It went as far as the eye could see. You held your hand out, letting the thick snowflakes fall and melt in your hand.

“My princess.” You turn to see Cregan, walking towards you. He bows, forcing a politeness. “Winterfell is yours.”

You bow in return, “No need for such formalities, Lord Stark. This is your home, and I am honored to have you welcome me here.”

He nods, choosing to say nothing else to you.

“Please show the princess to her chambers.” He says to one of the servants, then immediately turning on his heels to leave. Your jaw falls slightly, surprised at his curt demeanor.

You compose yourself, trying to hide the slight hurt in your features before making your way to your private chambers.

You bathed immediately, welcoming the hot water against your skin. No water could be hot enough for your dragon blood, but what they had drawn up for you would do nicely.

Your wedding was a week after your arrival, the lord having given you time to settle in. You had not seen him much during that week so you chose not to bother him, assuming he was busy with duties.

When you walked down that snowy path to the red weirwood, Cregan stole a glance at you. You looked beautiful, and he felt horribly guilty for thinking it. He felt like what he was doing was betraying her.

You said your vows, swearing your love before the old gods. You smiled at Cregan and he gave you a forced one in return. Guilt wracked his whole body. He felt guilty for you, knowing he wouldn’t be able to give you a union where you were loved, he felt guilty for liking your smile, he felt guilty for forgetting hers.

There was a feast following the ceremony, nothing large due to the pains of winter, but it didn’t bother you. The small gathering felt intimate, compared to southern weddings where lords and ladies travelled from all over the realm to witness it.

It was here you met Cregan’s son, Rickon.

“Hi, little one.” You said. He was only two, a fat little babe who looked just like Cregan.

“Rickon, this is my new wife.” Cregan said. The way he worded it made you twitch, it had sounded so strained. He didn’t even use your name. You told the boy the name he could call you, but he said nothing as he hid behind his father’s leg.

“I apologize.” Cregan said, his voice showing no sign that he actually was sorry.

“It is alright, my lord. He is just a babe. He and I will have time to get to know each other.” You said. Cregan tensed up, suddenly remembering again this union was forever.

“Excuse me, princess.” He said, turning and walking away with Rickon. Your heart sunk a bit. You could start to sense it now, Cregan was not in the slightest invested in your union together. You felt lost, out of place suddenly.

You sat back down at the high table, overwhelmed with nervousness. You bit at your nails and the skin around them, biting until they bled. You missed your mother dearly. Being here, in this room among strangers who didn’t care much for southerners to begin with, made you feel small.

You had sat there for an hour or two, not moving or eating once, save for your cuticles.

Cregan came to you, not noticing your nervous state. If he had noticed, he chose to ignore it. “I’ve put Rickon down… Would you please accompany me to my chambers?”

You looked at him, the nail bed of your thumb resting between your teeth. You nodded, standing and staring at the hall one last time. You locked eyes with a man, who noticed you both about to take your leave.

“Is it time for the bedding ceremony, Lord Stark?” The man asked, erupting a few cheers from the men mostly.

“No!” Cregan nearly barked the order. “There will be no bedding ceremony.”

The men in the crowd shuffled awkwardly at his outburst but accepted.

“Princess.” Cregan said, walking away and not waiting to see if you were following.

You did anyway, struggling to keep up with his quick pace. You had the sense he wanted this to be over with quickly.

He held the door as you both entered his chambers. You took in your surroundings. It was a clean and large kept room with a lit hearth and a large bed. A thought passed your mind, even though you tried to push it down.

Did he share these chambers with her?

Cregan began to take off his armor and furs, again not watching to see if you did the same, only assuming you were. If you weren’t, he didn’t care.

“Um, could you help, my lord?” You asked, referring to the laces of your white wedding dress.

He sighed, walking over to you as you turned your back to him. Your eyes welled with tears, but you tried to hide it.

His hands were gentle with the laces, not tugging at them as you expected him to. He obviously had experience doing this before.

He grew emotional as he undid your dress, but he hid it well. It was a weird sense of deja vu. Your hair looked like hers from the back and he felt like he was back at his first wedding.

You pushed the dress off, revealing the sheer linen soft dress underneath. He hadn’t moved from behind you, trying to maintain his composure. You walked away from him, lying on the bed and biting your nails again.

He finished disrobing besides his briefs, and you stole a glance at his back. It was huge, muscular and scarred.

He walked over to the bed, getting between your legs and pushing up your shift.

“Is this alright with you, princess?” He asks. “We need not consummate this if you are not ready.”

For the first time it seemed like he kinda cared about how you felt. His hand still had a hold of your shift, which was resting on your pelvic bone.

You nodded, “Is it alright with you, Lord Stark?”

He nodded, pushing your shift up the rest of the way to reveal your chest. He wanted to fall on his sword for the way he kept stealing glances at your breasts.

He pushed his briefs down, and you choked on your breath at the reveal of his length.

“Oh, gods.” You mumbled under your breath.

He rubbed himself against your slit, and your heart stilled for a minute. The feeling was foreign and intense.

He gently grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away from your mouth. You hadn’t even realized you were still doing it, it was starting to become like breathing. A natural, unintentional habit.

Your hands fell to his biceps to steady yourself. You looked at him, but he did not meet your gaze. He instead bowed his head, watching himself enter inside you.

You dug your nails into his arm, gasping in shock. He gently shushed you, telling you it was okay.

“Please, please.” You said, not knowing what you were even pleading for.

“What?” He asked gently, his voice low and almost mimicking of your whining. It sent a shiver up your spine.

He was slow and gentle with you, not in it for any pleasure himself.

You touched his chest and his hair and his arms, and while he didn’t stop you he made no effort to touch you himself. His hands rested beside your head, holding up his weight.

Your hands found his arms again and you moaned softly, feeling your peak building in your stomach. You closed your eyes and pressed your forehead to his head, moaning as you spilled onto him. He closed his eyes as he felt it, and guilt wracked him again.

He gently pulled out of you and stood up, immediately dressing himself into his nightwear. You pushed your shift back down and pulled the linen covers over you, immediately going back to biting your nails at his reaction.

He laid beside you, not facing you and not saying anything.

You said nothing, but it hadn’t gone unnoticed how he intentionally avoided spilling himself into you.

———

It had been 3 months since your arrival to Winterfell, and you had adjusted as well as you could given the circumstances.

You did not often see your lord husband, but you were used to it. He spent a lot of his free time in the crypt where she was. It hurt, but you gave him his peace and he appreciated that you didn’t hover.

“Mummy!”

“Sh, sh, love.” You say as Rickon runs into your chambers.

Cregan did not like when Rickon called you his mother. He’d gotten upset with you a few times over it, and you assured him you would correct Rickon when it happened.

“Mummy.” He repeated. You giggled. pulling him into your lap. You shook your head and tapped his nose, saying, “Nooo. Not mummy.”

“Mummy.” He laughed, and you ran your fingers through his thick brown curls.

“What ever will we do with this mop on your head, my son?”

“He is not your son.” You turned to see Cregan standing in the door way. “And his hair is fine.”

“Apologies, my lord.” You said, curtly. He ignored your attitude.

“Come, Rickon.” He said, beckoning his son.

“No, mummy.” Rickon whined, holding you.

“Go see papa.” You told him, and with your blessing Rickon ran to Cregan.

Cregan gave you a cold stare as he left, and you returned the favor.

You were growing ever so agitated with your husband. He had welcomed you into Winterfell, but not his heart. The only time you both had shared a bed was the night of your wedding, to which Cregan had made sure not to give you an heir.

You had no one. Rickon had you, Cregan had you even if he did not want you, yet you were alone here in Winterfell.

You decided to write to your mother on Dragonstone, requesting for Jacaerys to pick you up on dragon back so you could visit your family and hopefully receive advice. You had left your dragon, Silverwing, at home. You did not want to disrespect the already hesitant northern people, and you did not want Silverwing to be cold or hungry.

That night when you were brushing your hair before bed, there was a knock on your door.

“Come in.” You looked in the mirror and saw Cregan’s half sister, Sara, enter.

“Hi, Sara.” You said. She came up behind you, taking the brush from your hand and slowly combing it through your hair. You two had formed a unique bond, given you were both considered outcasts in Winterfell. You were a southerner, she was a bastard. They were two sides of the same coin here in Winterfell.

“I heard what happened today.” She said, and you hummed mindlessly. “My brother can be a bastard.”

You smiled at her in the mirror. “Is that so?”

She nods. “I wish I knew what to do, Sara.”

“We northerners love hard, princess. We are unwaveringly loyal. The wound of losing Aly is still fresh in my brother’s heart. Give him time. He knows you love Rickon, and that scares him. I don’t know why.”

“Was Aly pretty?” You ask.

“You have a southern beauty we do not see often in the North. Aly was not a beautiful woman, but she was a fierce fighter. That is how history will remember her. She was born fighting, and she died fighting. I know you are a fierce fighter as well, princess. You are the blood of the dragon. Do not let the grief my brother holds make you feel small.” She kisses the back of your head. “Throw a fucking book at his head if he acts like that again.”

You laugh, her joke comforting you. She turns and leaves you alone, your head clouded with thoughts of Aly.

You heard back from Jacaerys within a few days that he would arrive shortly to bring you home. You had not yet told Cregan, as you knew he wouldn’t care anyway.

A few days following the letter from the raven, it was Sara’s name day. Cregan had decided to celebrate with a feast, one bigger than your wedding.

You all sat at the high table, your husband and sister in law drinking heavily. Although Cregan was a big man, the amount of ale he consumed that night seemed enough to kill a horse.

“My princess.” A servant rested her hand on your shoulder. You and Cregan both turned to look at her, and she grew nervous, not expecting Cregan to pay any attention or perhaps she would not have asked the princess the request. “Rickon has had a nightmare and wants no comfort of the maids. He is requesting you by name specifically, princess.”

You turn to look at Cregan for his approval. He gives a quick nod, which you hadn’t expected. Perhaps he only obliged since Rickon had requested you by your name, rather than requesting his “mother.”

You walked with the maid to his chambers, opening the door.

“Mummy.” He said through sniffles. You turned to face the maid.

“I thought he requested me by my name.” You said.

“That is your name, princess… to him.” The maid closed the door.

You turn to face Rickon with a gentle sigh. “You know papa doesn’t like that word.”

“Mummy.” He just says again. You walk to his bed, fitting yourself in to lay with him. He cuddles into your chest, and you play with his hair to help him sleep.

“Say it okay.” He says.

“Hm? What do you mean, child?” You ask.

“She say it okay to call you mummy.”

“Who?”

“Mummy did.”

“No, you have to call me my name, sweet boy.”

“Not you, mummy. My other mummy said it okay.”

“You confuse me, Rickon.”

“Mummy says ignore papa.” You chuckle softly.

“Sleep now, my love.” You say, and he slowly falls asleep while you hum him a soft song.

You rise, tucking him in and giving his head a kiss.

You open his door to return to the feast, and Cregan is there waiting.

You gasp, covering your mouth quickly to not wake Rickon.

“Gods, you scared me!” You whisper/yell at him. He says nothing, his eyes in a glossy and drunken haze.

You close the door, nearly standing chest to chest with him.

“I heard you sing to him.” He says softly. “Where did you learn that song?”

“He taught me it.” You say, as you go to step past him when he stops you.

“Cregan?” You say confused, turning to look up at him.

He takes your cheeks in your hands and slams his lips on yours. You freeze for a second in shock, before immediately returning the kiss. He presses you against the door, and you moan into him as you quickly grow wet with Cregan’s sudden change of behavior.

He moves to press gentle kisses on your neck, biting softly here and there. His fingers dig into your hips, grinding himself into you. You moan softly, trying not to cause too much noise against the door.

“Not here.” You moan. He avoids your eyes, taking your hand and pulling you further down the hall to his chambers. It was only your second time in his room. He lifted you into his strong arms, wrapping your legs around his waist and pressing you against the wall.

You both hadn’t even undressed, but you loved the thrill. Your husband finally wanted you after three long grueling months. He pushed your dress up to your waist as you unlaced his breeches.

He took you there against the wall of his chambers, fucking you so sweetly, fucking you in a way that would surely produce an heir.

Your moans filled the halls, and the servants began to spread word that the lord had finally moved on from his first wife.

He carried you to the bed, placing you along the edge as he stood, fucking you with sloppy and drunken thrusts.

You moaned his name, both of you drawing so close to your peak as your hands rested against his stomach. He leaned closed to you as hand moved beside your head to hold his weight, and the other moved under your lower back to lift you slightly off the bed and pull you more into him. The angle sent you over the edge, crying and moaning his name.

Your moans pushed him over, but his next words made you sick.

“Fuck, Alysanne.” He groaned, burying his head in your neck and spilling his seed into you.

You gasped, not even sure you heard him right.

He kissed your neck a few times and then rolled off you, not noticing the look on your face.

You laid there unmoving, still in your dress which was now damp with sweat, and your thighs now sticky with Cregan.

He fell asleep the second his head hit his pillow, still in his clothes.

You choked back a sob, moving your hand to your mouth so he wouldn’t waken. In reality, you could’ve started screaming and he wouldn’t have woke, or even shuffled.

You exited his chambers, trying not to be sick on the way to yours.

“My sister!” Sara drunkenly yelled as she seen you in the hallway. She took notice of your disheveled dress and hair. “Oh my gods, did you and Cregan just…?”

You ignored her, but she noticed the tears on your face. “Wait, sister what is wrong? What happened?”

You slammed the door in her face, throwing yourself into your pillow and screaming.

—

“Mother would be furious if she knew you were sleeping this well past sunrise.”

You groaned, lifting your head from the pillow to find the voice in the room.

“Jacaerys?” You said, when your eyes landed on him.

“I take it the feast for Sara Snow was a success.” He says, making fun of you. Your hair was sticking to your face, wet with a mixture of tears and drool.

“I guess you could say that.” You said, wiping your hair to the side.

“You’re disgusting.” He says.

“Gods, five minutes you’ve been here and you already frustrate me! Get out!” You say, both of you immediately teasing and arguing like you had never left home.

You push him out of your room.

“Don’t touch me, wench!” He whines, smacking your arms.

“Piss off! Go harass the bloody Lord of Winterfell.”

“I’d rather harass the Lady.” You push him out of your doors, turning and pressing your back to slide down the wall.

You hear him knock again and you rise to your feet, angry. “Jace, I said-“

You don’t finish your sentence, since as you open the door it’s Sara.

“I wanna talk about last night.”

“I don’t.” You say, going to close the door on her before she pushes it back open.

“What happened?” She asks, angry. She closes the door behind her and follows you to the bed. You sit on the edge and rest your elbows on your thighs, burying your face in your hands.

“Did my brother hurt you?” She asks, worried.

“No, no.”

She rests on her knees in front of you, placing her hands on your knees. “Tell me what happened.”

You sigh, trying to hold back your tears, but you cannot. “We had sex.”

“Isn’t that good? What went wrong?”

“He called me Alysanne.” You sob out.

“Oh, no.” She says, moving to sit beside you and wrap her arms around you.

“I cannot stay here no longer, Sara. I am being haunted by Alysanne. I find letters she wrote to Cregan, her clothes, her weapons. Rickon thinks I am her and Cregan wishes I was.”

“I am sorry, princess.” She says, sadly. “I thought I knew my brother better than that… Perhaps, if you talk to him about these past few months things can be different. Just give it a try, yes? You have your brother here now. You can leave if things do not work and the marriage can be annulled.”

You did not even wish to think of that possibility. It would be so shameful for both of your houses. You would do everything in your power to make it work.

You cleaned yourself up and went to Cregan’s chambers, knowing he would be hungover.

And you were right.

You entered his room without knocking, finding him in a bath with a warm rag over his eyes. Three times now you’ve been in his chambers.

“You can set it on the table.” He says, not moving the rag.

“What?”

“Oh.” He says, his voice changing in tone. “I thought you were the maid.”

You say nothing, unsure of where to even begin.

“Can whatever you’ve barged into my chambers for wait until I am done.” He asks, only the question is more of a statement.

“No.” You say, angry. You walk over to him and pull the rag off his eyes. He squints at the brightness, then gagging on the air as if he might be sick. “We’re going to talk, Cregan. We’ve been married for months and I don’t think we’ve ever truly had a conversation once. It is all I am asking. You could at least give me that. You’ve given me the cold shoulder for three months, and I’m tired of it. I’ve helped raise your son, I’ve loved you and I’ve cared for you even when you didn’t want it. You owe this to me.”

He sighs, defeated. “You are right in that, my princess. I apologize. We can talk later, alright?”

“No, Cregan. We will talk now.”

“You wouldn’t rather talk when I am of a clear headspace?”

“No. Now.” You say. He sighs again.

“Say your piece.”

The words left your mind the second he said that. You had this conversation in your head many times before, but now it was here and you could not handle the heat of the moment.

He raised his eyebrow at you, as if you were dumb.

“Oh, do not do that. I thought you Starks were supposed to be the most honorable among men. This whole marriage I have been treated with everything but. You are a disrespectful man, Stark. I am truly sorry about Alysanne-“

“Do not speak to me about my wife, ever!” He yells, pointing at you.

“I am your wife!” You cry out. “You chose me, whether you were ready for another marriage or not! I left my home, my family, my dragon to be with you! If I cannot have your love, is it too much to ask for your fucking respect?!”

He goes quiet for a few moments, “You have always had my respect, princess… and I know I have erred in the way I’ve treated you these past moons. But this marriage is just a duty. Nothing more, nothing less. This marriage is not out of love… so do not expect me to love you back.”

You laugh, dryly. “You called me Alysanne last night… Do you remember that? No… I suppose you were too drunk. You never would have touched or cared for me like that sober.”

He says nothing, but his hands grip the side of the tub and his face is contorted with anger. You rise, hiding any sort of emotion on your face.

“The dead don’t need lovers. Only the living.” You said. He threw his rag at the door as you walked out, not even granting him a second glance.

The memories of last night flooded back to him, and he rested his face in his hands, crying at his behavior. He had let down Aly, his son, and you.

He did care about you, he did love you in his own way. He just didn’t know how to show it. He didn’t want to show it. If he had shown it, he only would have betrayed Aly even more.

You went down to the crypt, somewhere you had never gone before. You had no reason originally, no people to mourn.

You stood in front of her plot, staring at the statue of her. She had been a skinny girl, with long dark hair and ‘plain’ features. You thought she was a beauty in her own way. You saw why Cregan loved her.

You cried. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help him.”

Your hand touched her statue, then you stood and left the crypt.

You said goodbye to Rickon, Sara, and then you left with your brother on dragon back, ready to be home with your true family.

———

“You’re a fucking fool, brother.”

“You think I don’t know that? Gods.” Cregan rested his head in his hands. He had sent every raven in Winterfell to Dragonstone, yet not one had responded in the weeks since you’d left.

“We’ll be lucky if the bloody queen doesn’t declare war on us for you scorning her daughter.”

“I am trying here, Sara! I’ve sent my ravens, I’ve sent men to retrieve her. There is nothing more I can do!”

Sara slammed her hands on the table. “Go and get her your bloody self, Cregan. The trip to Dragonstone will give you plenty of time for reflection.”

Sara turned to leave, and Cregan knew it was his only option of getting you back here. He would go and get you and make things right. He had to.

You had your own time for reflection, riding home with Jacaerys made you realize how much you missed being on dragon back.

Your mother of course welcomed you with open arms, but was wracked with guilt that you and Cregan’s union was not working. You paid it no mind however, spending your days patrolling Dragonstone on Silverwing.

Cregan had taken his horse and a few men to retrieve you from Dragonstone. The trip by horse was long, more than several weeks.

The entire time he rode in silence he thought of you. He thought of your last conversation and the final words you had said to him. The dead don’t need lovers. And you were right. Alysanne would not have wished to see him treat you how he had, she would not have wanted Cregan to spend his time sulking or being angry. He only wished he had realized it before he left.

He loved you. If only it hadn’t taken you leaving for him to realize. You were kind, gentle, beautiful. Traits Alysanne didn’t have but it was what seperated you from her. It had been how he was able to find his own kind of love for you, even when he didn’t consciously realize it yet. His own bitterness from losing Aly had made forget his honor.

Cregan arrived about two moons after you had left. He was aching, frustrated, and desperate by the time he reached Dragonstone.

It was dark, pouring rain, and you were playing with your brothers Viserys and Aegon when he arrived.

“Your Grace!” A knight came into the room shouting. Your mother looked up from her book. “Cregan Stark of Winterfell has arrived and requests an immediate audience with you and the princess.”

Your mother looked at you, and you looked like you’d seen a ghost. Your heart sank and your face went pale, but you nodded.

You met him inside the council chambers with your mother and his men. He was soaked, shivering. You could hear your heart beating in your ears, that was how nervous you were.

“Cregan.” You said, walking towards him and pushing him by his arms to the hearth to warm him up. It was another thing he loved about you, your protective nature, so he said it.

“I love you.”

“Cregan…”

“Love her?” You both looked at your mother, whose face was angry. “You love my daughter?”

“Your Grace.” Cregan said, removing his sword and bending his knee. “I’ve come to beg your forgiveness.”

She walked towards you both. “It is not mine you need to beg for… I sent my only daughter to you, and you spurn her for your dead wife?!”

“Mother!”

“You will not interrupt the Queen when she is speaking.” She commands you. “What do you have to say for yourself, Lord Stark?”

He stands. “I have nothing to say, Your Grace. You are right. My behavior was unacceptable. The princess deserved none of it.”

“Why are you here?” Your mother asks him.

“I’ve come to ask the princess to return home.” Your mother scoffs at him.

She looks at you, then back to him. “You are lucky it is not my decision to make.”

She turns and exits, leaving and commanding his men to wait outside the doors so you both could be alone.

You were even more nervous with just the two of you in there. It is silent for a few moments before you speak.

“Why the sudden change of heart?” You ask Cregan.

“It took you leaving for me to realize I love you.” He says, taking your hands in his. You roll your eyes, taking your hands back and stepping away.

“I can’t believe you.” You say, starting to sob.

“I know, I know.” He steps closer to you again, taking you in his arms as you cry into his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

“I loved you, Cregan.” You say, crying. “Since I was a girl I loved you. I thought you were different from other men. But, you’re just like the rest.”

Cregan cries into your hair. “I’m so sorry, my princess. I’m so, so sorry.”

You both stand there, holding each other and crying.

“Please come home.” He says. “Let me take you home.”

“Rickon misses his mother, Sara misses her sister… I miss you, you my wife.”

You pull away to look at him, trying to read his normally stoic features. You can see he means it.

“Okay.”

———

You returned to Winterfell on Silverwing, no longer having the strength to remain apart from your dragon.

Cregan had to endure another long and grueling trip back to Winterfell, which you enjoyed knowing he was suffering while you road through the skies.

Rickon had cried tears of joy when you returned, and a week later when Cregan arrived Rickon cried again.

You and Cregan had remained in seperated chambers while you still navigated your marriage, but Cregan made a point to spend every moment of his free time with you.

But you had been keeping a secret from him.

After you returned home to Dragonstone originally, your blood never arrived. The maester determined you were with a babe, which would arrive several moons away in the dead of winter.

Your thick furs and dresses made it easier to hide from Cregan, as you were not ready to tell him.

The babe had complicated things. If you had not been pregnant, you might not have returned to Winterfell when Cregan came for you. But you knew you had a duty, and you believed if Cregan could love you then you could fix your union.

Cregan had indeed put the work in the second he arrived home. He attended to you, conversed with you, ate with you, laughed with you, but gave you the space you needed and gave you the option to be intimate with him when you were ready.

It was strangely like falling in love all over again. You blushed around each other, got nervous and flushed, made each other’s hearts race, shared a first kiss when you were both ready.

Cregan had undoubtedly fallen madly in love with you, and he regretted not taking the time to do it sooner. He couldn’t make up the time he lost being afraid. All he could do now was love you without guilt, love you without fear, love you without shame.

Normally Cregan always knocked on your chamber doors before entering, but for some reason this time he hadn’t. He didn’t know why he didn’t knock, he didn’t know if it happened unconsciously or if he was too busy wrapped up with his thoughts.

Either way, he entered without knocking and by that point the cat was out of the bag.

He said your name, greeting you with a smile, only for it to fall off his face as if it had never been there.

You were in the bath, relaxing in the burning water, but that wasn’t the problem. He’d seen you naked, although it hadn’t been for a few months by this point, but him accidentally invading your privacy wasn’t the problem either.

It was the bump in your belly that was a problem.

Your head turned sharply, covering your chest quickly. “Cregan!”

“Sorry.” He said quickly, turning around to avoid disrespecting you.

“It’s fine.” You said, dropping your arm from your chest. “You just gave me a fright.”

He said nothing for a moment, only continuing to face the wall.

“What is that?” He finally asked. You sighed, stepping out of the tub and into your robe.

You walked up behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to face you now, and his eyes fell down to your other hand resting on the small bump in your stomach.

“Perhaps it’s time we talk.”

“You think?” He spits at you, immediately apologizing after. “I’m sorry, princess. I didn’t mean to be cross with you.”

You said nothing, walking over to the seats by the hearth hoping he would follow.

He did, and he sat next to you, his eyes never leaving your belly.

“Can I?” He asked, gesturing to your stomach. You nodded, untying your robe so that you were bare. You grabbed his hand, bringing it to the small bump.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I could have accommodated for you, made sure you were comfortable.”

“Truth be told it’s been hard for me to accept I’m truly with a child.” You say, “The reality had not set in until… well until you just now found out... I am sorry, Cregan. I should not have kept it from you.”

He chokes back a sob. “Feels like just yesterday Alysanne had Rickon.”

“He will be overjoyed to know he will have a little brother or sister.” You tell him. He looks at you, his face full of emotion.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks and before you can even finish nodding your head, you’re already leaning in to kiss him.

“I love you. I love you so much, my wife.” He says in between kisses.

His hand did not move once from your stomach the whole night.

[reikoknshii]

Perhaps...a Date?

Francis Mosses - Milkman

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊

Its been weeks you've been working for the D.D.D. , you stayed in your work station and do the usual works.

However, those days passed, you got yourself a motivation whenever he check in. Who? The famous milkman of town, Francis Mosses.

What makes him special? Was it his tired eyes? His soft and deep voice whenever he greeted you for checking in? You have no idea..

All you know you were smitten for the exhausted milk delivery man, and you can tell if he is the real one or not. Though there are times you almost let in the doppelganger because on how they almost perfect their form of Francis, either way you never let it in or else you'll be in trouble for cause of death of the apartment residents.

This day he's one of the listed entry resident, perhaps you can have a longer conversation with him?

You inhaled and exhaled as you open the metal window to start your work.

Angus...

Izaack...

Elenois and her Twin Selene..

Where is Francis?

You grew impatient after checking in four people and making sure they're not a doppelganger. Atlas Francis arrived, Tired as usual as he shows his entry request.

Odd...

' Perhaps he's a doppelganger? '

You tapped on the window trying get his attention , when he noticed you questioned where is his Id.

"My Id? My apologies, i forgot to show my Id" He said softly and audible for us to hear from the other glass side of the window.

' looks like everything is in check..wait hold on a minute '

You decide to double check his appearance and his ID, soon enough checking his files and you found the false thing about him.

"I don't remember Francis having a Mole"

"FUCK!" Cursed the doppelganger as he grew angry. This isn't the first time they would be angry, they almost got it perfect but fail because of a small detail.

"I didn't take that into account.

You're not easy to fool.

That makes me want to devour you even more." You shivered as they banged on the protected glass window , you immediately closed the metal cover.

"Can I visit you at night while you sleep? " the doppelganger said from the other side as they continue to hit on the metal cover.

"Yeah no thanks pal, I'd let francis in but not you" you jokingly said and dialed the D.D.D. services.

"Oh? Looks like the stationed guard is hoping for a mutual feeling, ill get you next time.." You immediately regret saying that, especially to a doppelganger, Knowing full well they would use the information they know against you.

You heard the D.D.D. services arrived and waited for it to finish. Soon the cleaning services opened the metal door telling you the 'operation cleaning is done and you may resume your work.'

You felt like a stupid hopeless romantic, now the doppelganger knew you're into Francis and would take that into their account to try getting in.

Soon enough, the real Francis arrived.

He showed both of his ID and Entry request.

ID and expiration date? Good.

Entry Request? Seem Accurate enough.

Appearance? perfect.

Your hands shakes as you checked the list as Francis waited for you to speak.

"Is it all good?" He asked with his usual tired voice as you nodded your head and waited for you to open the door.

"I-" you stammer wanting to say something as Francis stared at you.

"Yes?."

"...i-i well..." You started as you scratch the back of your head. "P-perhaps a date ? Only if you're available" you asked as Francis tired eyes widen abit from your offer.

"..That wouldn't be bad, tomorrow sounds good?" He asked with a slight smile , making your face go red from the overwhelming joy and excitement.

"Y-yes! Please!" You blurt out and realized you look so eager in front of him.

"Alright, mind opening the door for me now?" Francis asked as he carried his ID and work bag , You covered your face embarrassed on how you react to his answer and opened the metal door for him.

"See you Y/n "

[celtrist]

This was the piece that I had started before my extensive vacation (of coughing). Once again, Alastor is consistently the bane of my existence with his... well everything.

No matter! Anyway, this is something I like to call the Obsession AU. To sum it up real fast: Everyone is yandere for Alastor. I think it would just be apart of his punishment in Hell, being consistently forced into or desired in romantic/sex which he's never had much interest in. I would describe it as a dark comedy thing, but it can be as comedic or as dark as you want here. With that said, please be on guard with any mentions of darker content that treds towards a certain dead bird territory when I get a bit into how I imagine some of the characters. Again, it doesn't have to go that far if you're interested in this premise of an au and wanna focus on the more light hearted stuff, feel free.

This au is just poking a bit of fun at how everyone in the fandom wants to put Alastor in romantic situations constantly (whether it be with themselves or the other characters) despite Alastor probably being the least interested in the subject in the whole show. This is by no means a hate train or making fun of people who do enjoy shipping Alastor, it just more of a funny thing I think comes off as pretty ironic for his character and hopefully, others can enjoy that too. In this au he leans pretty much on the clear-cut side of aromantic and asexual with no interest in romantic affections at all. With that said, if you want to explore Alastor genuinely being interested in one of the other characters romantically or something similar, feel free to explore that! I can see some interesting dichotomies there. It's just within the actual "canon" of this au, he's not at all interested with that sort of thing. And just with a last final reminder to get into some character things I have in mind, some of the content mentioned does get pretty dark, particularly with Valentino but I don't think anyone's surprised there. But there might be some triggering content of the following mentioned here with characters but no crazy details really: Manipulation/Gaslighting, forced feminization, Non-con, Munchausen syndrome, Poisoning, Possessive, Drugging, Love bombing And I will be sure to give a quick warning to each character it might apply to, please feel free to let me know if I missed anything!

Rosie (Munchausen syndrome, Poisoning): Rosie has 100% poisoned Alastor before to make sure he relies on her. They started off as good friends but at some point Alastor began getting ill and Rosie offered to take care of him. This leads to Alastor staying in bed for full days, only really seeing Rosie who took care of his every need from food, clothing, washing, and so on. At some point, Alastor caught on that Rosie was putting something in his food to make him sick and he managed to escape with their friendship tarnished much to his dismay. He's often uneasy around Rosie but is upfront about his knowledge of Rosie's deeds. Rosie, in turn, acts like it is a lighthearted situation and often offers Alastor over for lunch, which he often denies. Any food he gets at his doorstep from a secret admirer or a lunchbox he finds at his seat in an overlord meeting goes straight into the trash. Alastor will still use Rosie's assets to his benefit of course, but is always careful as to what she might try to get in exchange. He has had more awkward lunches with her with his homemade meal versus the buffet she catered for the occasion, with the two gossiping like old times. Alastor is still uneasy during these times, but he also revels in the false pleasantries due to not having many others he's able to associate himself with due to the curse.

Lucifer (Controlling, Possessive, Manipulation): So I'm not 100% clear how I wanted to approach Lucifer. He and Charlie are probably the most similar I suppose? He wants Alastor as his queen (either alongside him and Lilith or only with him, he doesn't mind either way). He doesn't force him into dresses or anything, but Lucifer does consistently make doting moves and talks about how Alastor would make a good father to their children. Marriage is one of the mind and Lucifer probably gets a bit possessive with him. He also tries to guilt trip Alastor a lot, or manipulate situations in one of their arguments to get Alastor to say something he doesn't mean.

Charlie (Controlling, Possessive): Probably the most tame of everyone quite honestly. Charlie can be a bit controlling but does step off when Alastor expresses his dislike of her doing so, even if it takes a couple times. She likes doing things for him, is super affectionate, and daydreams about her, Vaggie, and Alastor all getting married. She can get pretty possessive with him, not being pleased when anybody does anything against Alastor's will or hurt him. The only exception to this rule is Vaggie, to which Charlie sees it like two cats getting along and finds it very endearing.

Vaggie (Forced Feminization, Controlling, Murder): Depending on how you look at it, Vaggie's one of the more fucked up obsessions or one of the more funnier ones. Because she's automatically inclined to like Alastor quite a bit with the curse thing but her personality doesn't jive with his for her own taste (in terms of their first meeting), she both hates and loves the guy. She's obsessed with trying to murder Alastor with traps around the hotel or outright standing over him with her spear. The hatred comes primarily from not wanting to feel the way she does about him, I guess like a fucked up tsundere if you wanna go that route. At the same token, however, she does want Alastor to be involved with both her and Charlie romantically. There's just one little problem: Vaggie has about the same amount of interest in men as she does in canon. So to sort of "fix" Alastor, she consistently tries to force him to be more feminine in clothing, offering different feminine names, and even trying to force him to get a sex change. Alastor is pretty slippery though, so it never quite works out in Vaggie's favor aside from the occasional dress or skirt being worn, which solidifies her attraction to him. Then he takes it off and looks more like a man again, and it solidifies her frustration/hatred for him.

Angel Dust (Drugging): To start, while I think Angel would love to have sex with Alastor, he 100% would not force it. Wouldn't even do touches or anything. Potentially he could just like as a coping (to be in a situation where HE'S the one in control), but that is a darker route that I don't think will be exactly true for this AU. However, he very much enjoys drugging Alastor similar to Rosie. Not only just as a bonding thing since Angel would also do the drugs WITH him, but just to get the not-quite-lucid compliments from Alastor and maybe a snuggle then and there. He wants to dote on Alastor with him drugged out in his bed saying nice things to Angel. Admittedly this one's a bit of a workshop as I just knew I didn't want Angel to be focused on sex like somebody, but wasn't sure what to do here.

Valentino(Non-con, LoveBombing): I mean... it is Valentino, what did you THINK he'd be trying to do with Alastor? There's really not much to say here, Valentino essentially tries pulling all the stops trying to get Alastor in bed while also love-bombing the hell out of him. Which really doesn't work. Valentino is pretty open with sharing Alastor, but again, does this surprise anyone? As long as he's participating in some way, he really doesn't mind.

Vox (ALL warnings): Pretty much the worst version of himself that people make him be sometimes for those darker stories in the fandom. While more interested in having an enthusiastic partner, I don't think Vox would be opposed to forcing himself onto Alastor. He consistently tries to manipulate and gaslight, while enjoying both the suffering and pleasure of Alastor. Much like Vaggie, Vox is obsessed both being in love with Alastor while also downright hating him to the core. He's possessive and likes the idea of being both sweet and heinous with Alastor. He pretty much is every other character wrapped up in one fucked up TV man. Vox acts the most well-adjusted of the characters here, but he's probably got the obsession the worst.

And of course, pretty much every other conceivable ship is up for grabs here. I did think about maybe unfallen angels are able to resist the obsession curse, which would possibly make a funny team-up of Alastor, Adam, Lute, and Emily. Alternatively, I thought maybe the other canonically asexual characters in the show wouldn't be affected instead, meaning another oddball team-up of Alastor, Octavia, and Mammon. Then there is of course the "nope, there's no escape for deer man". Not sure yet, maybe I'll workshop it. I have more normal things in the works rather than this messed up little au, but darker content is a guilty pleasure of mine.

[nadvs]

the act of unravelling (part three)

pairing rafe cameron x pogue! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary you never expected you’d get tangled up with a kook, least of all, rafe cameron. one night, you make a life-altering decision to get revenge on someone you both despise. after you vow to keep what happened a secret, your relationship begins to twist into something more.

tags very dark! violence, homicide, drug and alcohol use, parental neglect, mental illness, s/a, trauma. no smut.

< prev

Being in Rafe’s truck again is like being thrown back into a bad dream you can’t wake up from. You remember every detail from that night, the smell of bleach, the ache in your bones.

He parked by the edge of the country club lot, and as he settles in his seat and shuts the door, he wraps both of you in privacy behind his tinted windows.

“What is it?” you ask, your voice cutting through the tension. Rafe rakes his hand through his hair. He seems nervous, a contradiction to the smugness you’ve gotten used to.

“You were right,” he admits. “Cops aren’t even sniffing around yet and people think it was me.”

You meet his eyes, the blue hue bright and striking. The night it happened, you’d only seen him through the dark. Now, in the daylight, he almost looks innocent. But then you remember the loudness of the gun and how angry he looked when he fired it.

“What happened?” you ask.

“Last night,” he begins, “a few of us were hanging out and people were talking about how something might’ve happened to him. This guy had his name in my mouth… said some shit about how they should probably ask me.”

You nod slowly, taking his words in. You expected as much. As someone who openly hated Porter, Rafe’s likely at the top of everyone’s list of suspects.

“What’d you do?” you say.

“I swung at him.”

You exhale defeatedly, looking up at the ceiling of his car. He’s such a loose cannon that for the first time since that night, you worry that he won’t be able to keep his mouth shut.

“Damn it, Rafe,” you complain. “And you were giving me shit for being obvious?”

His temper flares like a match thrown into a pool of gasoline.

“I’m not gonna sit there and let some asshole say that shit about me,” he mutters. “This is why we need to have our story straight, alright? If you even think about ratting me out, you’ll regret it.”

You tense up. So, this is why he so desperately needed to talk to you. You can’t believe you thought you could find any comfort in him.

“You don’t need to threaten me,” you say sharply. Rafe is taken aback by the confusion on your face. You look like you’d never even considered selling him out. But maybe you’re just a great liar.

“We said we’re in this together,” you continue. “Neither of us leaves the other, no matter how messy it gets. That’s the whole point of being each other’s alibis.”

Rafe sucks his teeth. You realize just how on edge he is about this. He was so comfortable the night it happened. Almost careless. Irritated at how anxious you were. Now, it’s like he’s spiraling.

“I won’t let this ruin my life,” Rafe mumbles. He huffs an unamused chuckle, looking out of the driver’s side window. “I’m not going to jail. I’m not…”

He trails into silence. You stare at his profile. The coldness you’ve always seen in him has been shadowed by a deep paranoia.

“I’m freaked out, too,” you admit. He looks at you again. “But this is only going to work if we trust each other. We need to stick to our story so well that even we start to believe it.”

He tilts his head, looking at you with skepticism, a wrinkle between his brows.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about screwing me over, Pogue,” he says. “You could say I did it and scared you into staying quiet.”

“Are you that paranoid?” you ask. “I won’t go behind your back. I promise. Even if it’s just a cover-up, we need to act like we’re friends now.”

Rafe gives you a once-over, the hardness in his face slowly fading.

“And don’t call me that,” you say. “You know my name.”

He breathes a real chuckle this time. Despite your better judgement, your heart flutters now that you’ve earned a smile from him.

“You’ll take it to the grave?” he murmurs.

“I will. You, too?”

“Yeah,” he says. He studies you again, realizing that you don’t have a guilty conscience at all. “You really don’t regret it.”

“No,” you state. The agony of reliving what Porter did to you hurts more than any sort of remorse you feel for taking his life.

Rafe is surprised to hear you don’t wish you could take what you did back. You’re as cold-blooded as he is. You might be the only person who comes close to understanding what it’s like being controlled by anger this intense.

“I just hate how I can’t stop thinking about if we left any evidence,” you say.

“Yeah.” He settles back, adjusting in his seat with ease, the tension between you dissipating. “We were rushed.”

You nod as you chew on your lip.

“At least nobody saw us,” you say. “And if the cops check our phones, they won’t find anything.”

“Good thinking to turn them off.”

Your face creases in surprise.

“What?” he says.

“Just throws me off when you’re not an asshole.”

He scoffs, his jaw tensing. But beneath the irritation, he wishes he could undo the way he’d spoken to you when you first got in the car.

It’s like his mind is speaking a different language to him when he feels any sort of shame. He usually tries to shut it up. When he looks at you again, he decides not to.

“I didn’t mean to… threaten you,” Rafe mumbles.

“Yeah, you did,” you say with a humorless laugh. “But I’m on your side here. Don’t forget that.”

You check your phone. You have plans to hang out with the guys after work and after what you put them through a few nights ago, you’d rather not leave them hanging again.

“I should go,” you say. “My friends are waiting on me.”

“Did you tell them the truth?”

“No,” you say. “This stays between you and me only. Trust me.”

Rafe stares at you, longer than he ever has before. It’s not anger in his face. Not worry, either. It’s something new. Vulnerability.

“I don’t trust anybody,” he says.

Your lips twitch into a frown. Even though this is a man who’s relentlessly teased you for your place in the classist system he seems to worship, your heart twinges in sympathy.

“Nobody?” you ask quietly.

He looks out the window again, tense and distant. He doesn’t say anything else.

“I have your back,” you reiterate to him. “To the grave, right?”

“Yeah,” he offers, not looking at you again. You exit his car, the confusing knot in your chest only tighter now.

·········

The police start knocking on doors a day later. When they come to yours, you do your best impression of a clueless nobody who just wants to help.

The lead on the case introduces himself as Detective Brading, settling in your living room like he’s been here before. He’s so confident that it’s intimidating.

You can imagine Porter’s wealthy family is doing everything they can to find out what happened. The man staring at you is likely the best of the best.

You’ve rehearsed your story so many times that it feels natural. The two men nod along as you lie to them about how you’d fallen asleep in the bedroom, how you’d woken up to him and Rafe arguing, how you convinced Rafe to leave with you.

Your parents stand close by, arms crossed. This is the most they’ve heard you speak in a long time. They hardly ever ask you anything about your life, so it feels odd to have their attention.

“We think you two might have been the last people to see him before he went missing,” Brading tells you. “Porter didn’t say anything about going anywhere?”

“No,” you answer. “Rafe and I left pretty quickly.”

The detective looks up at your parents with raised brows, asking them to give you a moment. When they leave, he leans a little closer.

“We know he deals drugs,” he murmurs. “And we know you bought from him. We’re not interested in getting anyone in trouble for that. We just want to know what happened to Porter. Is there anything you didn’t mention about that night in front of your parents? Be honest.”

“I fell asleep because I smoked too much pot,” you say quietly, looking back through the doorway your parents left through. It’s taking everything in you not to cry as you think about why you really lost consciousness in that room. “But I only ever bought that from him. He offered other things. Like cocaine. It’s why he and Rafe argued.”

It’s what you agreed on saying, but it still feels like you’re selling Rafe out. It’d be suspicious if you didn’t tell them this version of the truth, though.

The detective nods, clearly having been told this already. Your chest twists in unease as you think about Rafe’s name in everyone’s mouth, leading the cops to him. And possibly to you.

“How close are you to Rafe?”

“We've been talking more since I started my job at the country club,” you say. “We started hanging out a little bit ago. We’re friends.”

“Do you think he would’ve done anything to Porter?” Brading asks.

You meet his eyes, swallowing hard.

“No,” you say resolutely. “I don’t.”

·········

A man is missing and possibly, at this point, presumed dead. But that doesn’t stop Kooks from wanting to party.

You’re in the passenger seat as JJ drives to the north side of the island while John B and Pope talk in the back. You’re gazing out the window, watching the landscape go from dilapidated front yards to gated communities.

You’re heading to a party that you heard about from one of Porter’s friends and the way the police questioned you earlier today is spinning in your head.

“You good?” JJ asks.

You look over at your friend, flattening your lips together. You can never tell the whole truth, but you can offer bits and pieces.

“The cops told me they think I’m the last person who saw Porter before he disappeared,” you say. You can’t bring yourself to tell them the version of the story that includes Rafe yet. They’d never believe you. They’d judge you. “It’s kind of scary to think about.”

“My money’s on that he went on a bender,” JJ says. “Sampled his own product. Maybe even too much of it.”

“You think he overdosed?” you ask.

“More like Rafe offed him,” Pope chimes in.

“Is that what people are saying?” you ask, blood cold, turning back to look at him.

“It’s what I’m saying,” he answers. “The guy’s unhinged.”

You want to defend Rafe. To say he wouldn’t go that far. But it’d be suspicious. And a complete lie.

“It’s a small island,” John B says. “It’s only a matter of time before we find out what happened.”

You hope that’s not true.

·········

You make it to the house, reminding yourself over and over that you have to live as if you believe your own lie. You want to erase that night from your memory. Erase what Porter did to you.

You chug the first drink you can get your hands on. Your friends rib you for how quickly you down it. You blame it on a rough day at work.

Soon after, you’re at the keg, not even close to buzzed yet, but desperately needing to be. Discussing Porter with the cops today, pretending like he was just a dealer you had a few short conversations with, hearing that his family is concerned for his wellbeing made your pulse spike.

Does his family know what a monster he is?

You have to correct yourself.

Was.

“Slow down,” you hear.

Rafe towers over you, his eyes on your cup.

“What?” you shout over the music and conversations surrounding you.

“You’re on your second drink already.”

You look over your shoulder to make sure your friends don’t see you talking with him.

“I don’t even feel anything,” you reply sharply.

It’s a half-truth. Your sadness and anger are weighing heavy on your soul. That vile man took away your power, but you took it back, so you hate that you’re still so rattled by what he did. You just want peace.

“And why are you keeping tabs on me?” you ask.

Rafe stares at you, his lips just slightly parted. He can lie and say he wants to make sure you’re not setting yourself up to get hammered and potentially admit to someone what you did.

But the truth is he can’t stop thinking about you. And he doesn’t like seeing that look on your face, sad and absentminded.

He knows you hate him. He wishes he could hate you back.

“I need to be sure you’re not a liability,” he lies. “And people think we’re friends now, don’t they?”

You look over your shoulder again, anxious the guys will see you. You need privacy if you’re going to continue this conversation.

“Come on,” you say, dipping your hand in his, dragging him through the crowd. His palm is warm and soft and you don’t know what you were expecting, but the way Rafe feels is the opposite of it.

You open the first door you see, stepping into a narrow closet. You shut the door and switch on a light and suddenly he’s standing right over you, all breadth and intimidation.

Your heart races from the way you’d just touched him, from the way he’s just about pressed up against you right now. Something must be short-circuiting in your brain, because the fear you used to hold for him is entirely gone.

The attraction you’ve always felt is overpowering now. You can’t make sense of your own emotions.

“I haven’t told my friends our story,” you confess.

“What?” Rafe snips, his tone low.

“I can’t handle telling them right now, okay?” you say. You cross your arms. “I just said I was with a guy. Telling them that guy was you is… They’ll be so disappointed in me.”

“Disappointed,” he repeats with a scoff.

“Rafe, think back to every encounter you’ve had with us. All you’ve ever done is insult us. I don’t even want to think about how hurt they’ll be to hear I’m friends with you.”

“Who gives a fuck?” he mutters. “We need to make sure our alibi is solid. If the cops find out your friends don’t know we–”

“I’d tell the truth,” you say. “That I was worried about what they’d think.”

“I can’t believe you.” The thought of you being concerned about someone else’s opinion is ridiculous. “Why do you care so much?”

“They’re the only family I have,” you admit. It comes out before you even realize it. You look down, sighing. “You don’t get it. You’re like… an enemy to us. They know how shitty you treat me when I’m at work. Telling them–“

“How the hell do I treat you shitty?” he interrupts.

“I know that those tips are all a degrading show of how you’re so much richer and better than me,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

“It’s not like that.”

“What’s it like, then? Charity?”

Rafe’s jaw tightens, his nostrils flaring. Charity isn’t the right word. He hides behind a forced ego, but he’s always wanted you. And through excessive tips and constant teasing, at least he can talk to you without risking the chance of you rejecting him.

You have him all wrong. He doesn’t think he’s better than you. He’s afraid you’re better than him.

“I’ll tell my friends, okay?” you say when he doesn’t speak. “But I talked to the cops today and they seemed convinced. We’ll be fine.”

“They talked to me, too. I can tell they think it was me.” There’s an almost imperceptible tremble in Rafe's voice. “Everyone thinks it was me.”

“Even your friends?”

“Yeah,” he says. If he can even call them friends. Hearing you call yours family made his jealousy flare. Envy is all Rafe ever feels. Like he’s missing the one thing that deems everyone else loveable.

But he’s hanging on how you said they’re your only family. He doesn’t have a family, either. Not really. Not one that cares about him. Maybe you understand him more than he thought.

“Well…” You clear your throat. “They can believe what they want. You can trust me that I won’t ever tell anyone what really happened.”

“Why?” he finally asks. “Why not just snitch on me, Pogue?”

“Because that night, I told you to do it and you did. The world is a better place without him in it. You did me a favor.” You uncross your arms. “And I told you to stop calling me that.”

Rafe clears his throat, giving in, remembering how you’d saved his life and offering a quiet sorry before he says your name.

It’s the gentlest you’ve ever seen him. It’s a shock to your system. You search his blue eyes in the dim of the closet as if you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to make a snide joke.

But he doesn’t. He just stares at you, his breaths shallow, and you rethink everything you thought you knew about him.

He’s violent and aggressive and condescending. But you don’t see that right now. You see a man who doesn’t seem to be able to believe that someone would want to protect him. Is that who he is behind all the bravado?

The world continues to turn on the other side of the door, music blasting, bass rattling, but time has stopped between you. He’s looking at you through low lids. Like he wants you.

You shouldn’t. Shit is already complicated enough. But what’s one more tangle in the string tying you together?

Your fingers are at the collar of his button-up, pulling him towards you, lips meeting with abandon.

Rafe kisses you back immediately, hungrily leaning into you, cupping your face. His heart is racing. He doesn’t know how or why this is happening, but he wants it so bad that it hurts.

Your mouths part and finally, you taste him against your tongue. It feels so right, like you were always meant to do this and were both too stubborn to.

His hands press tighter against your jaw. Fear floods you. You’re back in that bedroom. You pull back.

“Not so hard,” you say.

“Okay,” he whispers, his grip loosening. He stays hovering over you, nose nudging yours. “Just… please…”

You nod, tilting your head to kiss him again, his hunger for you palpable. You’re with Rafe again, not in that bedroom, but here with a man you want who listens to your wishes.

Your head is swimming with bliss as he kisses you, smelling like cologne and desire, every piece of you wanting him. Then, his hands drift down over the curves of your hips, pulling you flush against him.

And it’s too much. You’re back there again. Begging for it to stop.

“No,” you snap, both hands roughly pushing his chest.

Rafe hits the shelves behind him, his head radiating in pain from how hard he smacked against the wood.

“What the fuck?” he mutters. He was just living in a dream. Why the hell are you pulling him out of it?

“No,” you repeat breathlessly. “You can’t touch me like that.”

“Okay,” he groans. “I won’t. Jesus.”

He clutches the back of his head, wincing.

“I’m sorry,” you say, your throat raw. “I didn’t mean to push you that hard.”

“Why’d you even kiss me?” he says. “Fuck.”

“I’m sorry,” you repeat. You step towards him, trying to meet his eyes. “You can’t… I need you to ask before you touch me like that.”

His lips are glossy from the kiss, his face pinched in pain. You take a risk, gently placing your hands on his cheeks.

Rafe should be angry at you. But goddamn it, your touch feels so good that he melts. His gaze is heavy on yours, both of you breathing deeply, coming down from the sudden outburst.

“I didn’t mean to,” you repeat softly. “Just don’t take me by surprise. I can’t handle it.”

Rafe searches your face, silently asking for an explanation.

You shake your head, not having it in you to answer right now. Your goal tonight was to forget. Not relive. You pull him closer, and thankfully, he lets you.

Your lips are tender after you part, having lost count of how long you’ve been kissing.

Things just got so much more complicated. But you wouldn’t take it back. Not for a second. Nothing else makes sense right now, but having Rafe the way you always secretly wanted him is the one thing that does.

“Don’t fuck me over,” he says, a note of cynicism in his tone as his forehead brushes against yours. “No matter what happens, don’t fuck me over.”

“I won’t,” you promise.

·········

The next morning, you’re walking through the club hall towards the golf course to start your shift. You still can’t get the way Rafe’s mouth felt against yours out of your mind.

He kissed you like he’s been waiting to kiss you for ages. Like he felt lucky that he got to.

You’re about to step through the glass doors leading outside, but the sound of your name makes ice go through your veins. You know that gravelly voice.

You turn to see Detective Brading, his stare intimidating.

“You have a minute to talk?” he says.

You can tell by his tone that it isn’t a question.

to be continued

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[miifu666]

I finally drew LMK wukong... while also making him yandere because uh.. i like yanderes, we need more yan!Wukong content pls 🙏🥹 anyway Heres my rendition of what yandere lmk sun wukong would be like.. maybe ooc, ive only watched season 1...

Also not proofread— At ALL

⋆˙⟡ — Cw : Yandere, Dub-con, ooc lmk Wukong?, art is wukong x oc but writing is Wukong x reader, not proofread.

I imagine Yan!Wukong to be the type who taunts you about his past actions, how feral and rebellious he was, able to defeat the entire heavenly army and scared the Jade emperor out of his wits just for existing in flower fruit mountain. This only happens when you disobey him ofc, you left the cabin? Denied his wants to feed you himself? Maybe its time to remind you who he is

" See how i was back then? I was a Savage, untamed even if i had that stupid crown around my head. You wouldn't want me to be like that now do you, Peaches? "

He's a sweetheart, Patience and Virtue is a thing he learned the most during his years of living. Yet, unpredictability is also his nature. Especially as a monkey king. There are times when he would tolerate you acting bratty, a bit Defiant is all fun, but when the day comes where he's fought too many Yaoguais, Demons, and Alike. All he wants is your comforting touch soothing him of his worries. The last thing he needs is your uncooperative attitude.

" Peaches... im not in the mood for this. Eat the food. Now. Ive been kind to you. It's either you eat the food or ill get rough."

Wukong is canonically someone who hasnt experienced any romantic nor sexual attraction, the moment he does. He doesn't have a clue on what to do. All he can think of is being in his monkey nature, which includes being possessive, territorial, dominating, and providing you with nutrients. He doesn't trust others enough to help him with his feelings, barely have the guts to ask Bajie if you're in a bad mood. He prefers to wait for others to give him advice (not that he'll take to account).

"MK doesn't know anything, he's a kid! He doesn't understand love like i do... like us adults do. Im doing this to PROTECT you, peaches!"

There might be times where he'll be more touchy than usual, conditioning you to feel comfort and used to his physical affection. Wukong is nothing but patient, he knows how to pavlov you into feeling relaxed once you feel his hands. You'll notice his punishments ranged from letting him groom you, mark you and finally letting him eat you out.

The euphoric bliss whenever he touches you or caught a whiff of your scent is tantalizing, Due to this, he prefers to be the one to serve you rather than you serving him. A king needs his Queen to bleed his heart into, not a concubine who perfoms.

" ah, ah ah~ Remember what i said? You either let me groom your pretty head or i might change things up a little..."

Wukong who gloats about the ring around your finger, making sure everyone. Even the heavens. Know, who you belong to. Theres no such thing as divine intervention, HE willed this fate, HE knit the red threads of fate till it spells your name. Theres an endless amount of love flowing through his heart for you, it seeps through timelines and past reincarnations. Even if your current life is done in this world, he'll continue on finding you. Binding you with him, gripping your heart so close till it beats in harmony with his. He'll make sure to leave an imprint of himself in your soul, even your future consorts needs to know him in order to understand you.

While you came from another world, your own destiny is temporary in his. Wukong will fight tooth and nails to defy the stars just to have you as his permanently. He'll create his own thread. His own happy ending with you.

And if theres anyone who dares to leak the rough details about your hostage love life... hes not known as the god of trickster for nothing

" if the moon and stars are reflection of the past, would they know how many lifetimes have i been loving you before our souls reconciled in this one?

Because i couldn't possibly have just learned to love you this much, all in this single lifetime"

Artwork ©️ Miifu666

Writings ©️ Miifu666

[yandere-daydreams]

Screening: Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978).

Pairing: Yandere!Carlisle Cullen x Reader (Twilight).

Word Count: 2.1k.

TW: Wildly Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Medical Malpractice, Blood, Controlling Behavior, Deliberate Social Isolation, Misuse of Prescription Drugs, and Generalized Twilight. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

It might’ve just been the isolation getting to you, but you were starting to think that your doctor wasn’t completely human.

Not that you’d ever say so out loud. At best, it was awful thing to think about a man who’d only ever been kind to you and, at worst, it proved yet another symptom to your ever-developing, ever-worsening illness had cropped up and would need further treatment to correct. You knew better than to say things that would make you seem more sick than you already were, but it was hard to stop yourself from lingering on the idea – especially considering you only had books, sleep, and his company to pass the endless time. Admittedly, it’d been a while since you’d seen another person, but you could’ve sworn he was paler than he should’ve been, to the point of bloodlessness. He never ate or drank around you, but sometimes when he spoke, the light would catch on his teeth in a way that made them look too sharp, too prominent. You might’ve been dreaming, but once, after you took your medicine but just before you fell asleep, you swore you saw him taking the cap off of the blood sample he’d taken a few minutes prior, like he planned to do something aside from—

You heard a door open and instantly, your paranoia was dismissed in favor of more interesting stimuli. In this case, that came in the form of your doctor, Carlisle Cullen, stepping into your bedroom, an inhumanly perfect smile already painted across his inhumanly perfect lips.

…maybe you should tell somebody about your little conspiracy. If only to be absolutely sure that you were really losing your mind.

“Good morning,” he said, and it occurred to you that you hadn’t thought to check the time, yet. Your life existed in three states: alone, asleep, and with Carlisle. Only that last one really mattered – the other two could easily be lumped into the same category helpfully labeled ‘waiting for Carlisle’s next visit’. “Have you been keeping yourself busy?”

“I’ve only been awake for a couple hours,” you explained, shrugging as he took his usual seat in the chair left next to your bed. He was always polite enough to ask about the boring details of your day, and you were always embarrassed enough to skirt around just how little you had the energy for. Most of the time, it was all you could do to pull yourself out of bed and yourself to eat before retreating back into your little safe haven. On a good day, you’d be able to go for a walk, maybe respond to a few of the calls you were constantly missing, but most days weren’t very good. “Reading, mostly. Thanks again for the recommendation.”

The book he’d lent you – a dry historical drama with characters as bland as water and a plot as boring as sin – sat open on your lap, but you’d only gotten through half a chapter before giving up. It was hard to believe Carlisle was only a few years older than you, sometimes. You couldn’t imagine how someone who seemed so young could have such awful taste.

Still, he looked pleased, his pleasantly aloof expression taking on a defined note of satisfaction. “It’s important to keep your mind occupied while your body’s recovering. You wouldn’t want to waste all of my hard work by letting yourself die of boredom, now, would you?”

“No, doctor.” It was stupid to try, but he’d set himself up for it. You couldn’t seem to stop yourself, your heart beating just a little faster as you grasped blindly for the impossible. “You know, there��s this friend of mine who keeps asking when she’ll be able to visit, and I thought it might help pass the time if—”  

“You’ll have to find a way to let her down.” Carlisle’s voice was smooth, calm. You did your best not to sulk, but still, he let out a labored sigh, only a touch too professional to roll his eyes. “It’s for the best. It’s good that you stay active, but you know what’ll happen if you overexert yourself, don’t you?”

Vaguely. It was hard to remember the details of your condition, and you weren’t in the mood for another lecture. “I do, doctor.”

“And you’re going to behave your check-up, aren’t you?”

“I am, doctor.”

“And that’s why you’re my favorite patient.” Your compliance was rewarded with a beaming smile, an appeased nod as he pulled his old-fashioned leather doctor’s bag into his lap. “We better make good on that promise before you change your mind, then.”

You didn’t protest. Honestly, you didn’t say much of anything. You never talked during your exam, preferring to let Carlisle go through the necessary motions with as little interference as possible. Instead, he filled the silence with mindless chatter about his children and how they were doing at the local public school, the hospital’s ongoings since you were unofficially discharged, and your favorite – Forks’ particularly colorful smalltown gossip, from the sheriff’s wayward daughter moving back into town to the spike in bear sightings on the local hiking paths. “It’ll be a busy week,” he mentioned, as he finished taking your blood pressure. “You might have some unexpected company, after all.”

At that, you perked up. You met nearly all of Carlisle’s assistants (medical students, you guessed, judging by their ages) by now, and even if you didn’t care for all of them, it was still nice to see someone other than him. Your least favorites were the dark haired twins – the wiry boy who always seemed to be biting back a smirk and the pixie-like girl who always acted like she knew something you didn’t – and you were particularly fond of the blonde girl… Rosemary, or maybe Rosaline. She was nice, compassionate, kind enough to keep you company even when Carlisle wasn’t in the room. More importantly, she brought interesting books – romance and horror, novels like Dracula and Carmilla and Interview with a Vampire, always handing over with a sweet smile and a hushed reminder not to let Carlisle know she was breaking his rules. Looking back on it, you probably shouldn’t have accepted anything she tried to give you. You would’ve hated for her to get in trouble just because she was trying to be nice.

Rather than voicing your overwhelming bias, you watched intently as he slipped the loose cuff off of your arm, tucking it back into his bag and removing something else, something long and silver and sharp. Immediately, your gaze shot back to your lap, your throat going dry in an instant. The next time you managed to spit something out, it was nearly too quiet to be audible. “…is there any chance we could, uh, I don’t know,” You paused, shrunk into yourself. “…skip the phlebotomy, this time?”

Carlisle’s answer was as swift as it was ruthless. An airy laugh, a jagged twist to this smile as he took up the needle properly and turned it over in his hand, looking for defects. It was already attached the glass syringe and, even worse, an empty vial; just a touch bigger than you remembered it being, the day before. “And take that kind of risk? How little do you think of me, (Y/n)?”

“It’s not you, it’s just—I already feel a little faint, and you take one every day, and—” You cut yourself off, inhaling sharply. “I just don’t know if it’s really necessary. Considering how careful you are and everything.”

“You’re right, I am careful. Which is exactly why I have to do this each and every time I come to see you.” He sighed, shook his head – suddenly more of a patronizing, paternal figure than any kind of medical professional, let alone peer. “You understand, don’t you? Without regular testing, your condition may worsen, and if you get any sicker than you are now…” You stiffened as he trailed off, bracing yourself. You knew what came next, what always came next.

“You’ll have to go back to the hospital, angel.”

It was strange, how a voice as smooth and as beautiful as his could be so difficult to listen to.

You didn’t like Carlisle. You hated his condescending smile, his repetitive rambling, his terrible taste in books and his creepy little students. You hated how little he let you do, how he talked about your illness – always skirting around the details, never giving you enough information to know whether you were on the verge of dying or a few days away from making a full recovery. No, when you were honest with yourself, you didn’t like him. Hated him, even.

But you couldn’t go back to the hospital, with its blank white walls and sobbing patients and strange, mind-altering drugs that put your sleep and made you feel like someone was biting into your throat. It’d been a miracle when Carlisle first told you about his domestic services, when he offered to have you discharged in exchange for only the promise that you wouldn’t seek care that didn’t come from him. Arrangements were made, your rent and bills taken over by some nameless, faceless local charity, and for the first time in months, you got to go home. You could live with Carlisle and his once weekly, now daily check-ups. You could live with the fact that you didn’t remember the last time you’d gotten to make a decision for yourself.

And, if you had to, you could live with paying for your freedom in blood, too. As long as it meant you didn’t have to go back to that terrible place.

Once again, you didn’t say anything, but you didn’t resist as he sighed and ran a sterilizing pad over your forearm, the antibiotic strong enough to burn. You clenched your eyes shut, but that did nothing to block out the feeling of a thin elastic band being wrapped around the crook of your elbow, of his needle pushing through your skin and burrowing into the vein underneath it. There was a second of pressure, of knotted soreness, and then, the syringe was gone and you were left feeling just a little colder, just a little more empty than you had before.

Even after opening your eyes, you kept them trained on your lap. You easily could’ve spent the rest of his visit in silence, but metal clinked against glass as he rushed to cap his vial and suddenly, you needed to hear the sound of your own voice. “I think I might be getting paranoid,” you managed, with a breath of a laugh. “For a few minutes this morning, I was able to convince myself that you were… I don’t know, an alien studying humanity, or something.”

“If I was, I’m sure that I would still pick you as the best possible specimen for my examination.” It was hollow comfort, but you smiled anyway, nodding along. Your medication came next, in the form of a small, chalky white pill that you still struggled to swallow under Carlisle’s vigilant gaze. You managed to choke it down, though, and as always, the effects were instant; a sudden clearness, blankness, followed shortly by an exhaustion so thick and so heavy, you couldn’t remember what it’d ever felt like not to be tired. You tried to hold yourself up, but faltered – buckling under your own weight. Carlisle chuckled as he caught you, helping you lay down with a soft squeeze to your shoulder, a feather-light kiss to the top of your head. “Sleep, angel. It’s good for you.” And then, his grin still pressing into your scalp. “And try not to dream about vampires, this time.”

So he did know about Rosalie’s books. Pouting, you shrunk into yourself, letting him drag the comforter over your abruptly immobile body as your eyes eased shut, as he pulled away – a vial of your blood still warm in his hand. It would’ve been impossible to stop yourself from falling asleep, but you managed to stave off unconscious long enough to watch him remove the vial’s carefully applied seal, to unscrew the air-tight cap with the kind of tenderness you’d only seen him use while taking your temperature or petting his fingers through your hair after he thought you were already too far gone to remember. He did a lot of things when he thought you weren’t looking, didn’t he? You’d never really noticed that, before.

Through your eyelashes, you watched him bring the vial to his lips before everything went dark.

[retiredteabag]

soft Toji dog-sitting for a generous!reader

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4 - next

synopsis: Toji was quite accustomed to objectifying himself for a check. And to be frank, far worse actions as well. Now he’s not sure what to do with himself after meeting the kind and generous owner of the dog he pet-sits for.

read along as Toji grows more comfortable around you despite his past.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

It could be argued that where one places one's identity is what keeps then grounded in themselves. And when one's identity is threatened, then, and only then, can you see what a person is at their barest, most vulnerable form.

Toji doesn't like feeling vulnerable. In fact, there might not be anything he detests more.

After the incident with his hands, Toji would go on to swear his interest in you was transactional. I mean, how could he NOT want to know more about his employer? He found himself thinking of you even when he wasn’t at the house, what were you doing? What kept your time so rapt? What did you think of him?

Toji would lay on his back, the couch in his apartment had been a popular spot since Tuesday. He hadn't seen you or your dog since the night you let him go. Pet him with a feather-light touch and sent him away.

You had taken off less work when you had become ill...

Despite his lack of work and true to your word, you had paid Toji double for that night. He would never complain about more money but he couldn't get the thought of you out of his mind.

He found himself waking from dreams of a soft voice and a gentle hand, he tried to recall every moment of the previous night in excruciating detail. Everything about it,

Your face when you reprimanded the veterinary staff, your voice when you told him everything would be okay, the way you had gently stroked at his hand when you wiped the blood from his palms. The way you had whispered...

"I'm sorry, was it too much?"

Toji drags his hands across his face.

"Yeah."

He stared at the hands you had put so much care into, so grimy, guilty of such sin.

He kept your towel, by the way, It lay on his bedside table.

With every passing day Toji craved to return to your presence once again. He wanted to peel back your layers and see what you looked like at your core. You had been so shy with him, yet, so ready to stand for what you wanted.

This difference was stark. When the pair of you had met, you had been barely awake, and badly ill. Clad in baggy pajamas. He had thought of you as ill-prepared, silly and frumpy. When you reconnected the other day, your blouse had clung to you, he recalls watching your back tense as you spoke with the hospital staff.

He wanted to see more.

Toji felt a strange need to wait before responding to your eventual text, but he couldn't find a good reason to.

"Mr. Fushiguro, are you healing well? The dog and I have been staying home and taking it easy, I hope the same is true of you. I wanted to reiterate how sorry I am that you had to go through all this, and thank you for protecting my boy. When you get the chance, please allow for me to pay for the cleaning bill on your car, additionally, I would love to treat you in some way, please let me know your favorite place to eat."

Toji began typing only to delete his words and try to rephrase.

"It wasn't a serious injury to begin with. Don't apologize again. Are you taking me out?"

He hit the backspace... "to eat?"

Toji knew thats not what you had meant. But he couldn't help but wish to see you again. Speak to you. Watch you. Learn you. He watched as an ellipsis appeared at the bottom of the screen and vanished. He reread his message, had he been too forward?

Eventually you responded.

"It was serious, you were hurt, and I AM sorry that it happened to you while you were taking care of my dog. I cannot express how grateful I am. You are a hero."

Toji choked out a laugh at the word you used. He pushed himself up onto his elbow, smooshing a couch cushion in the process. He did not respond, awaiting your answer to the question he cared about.

You replied to his text, "Is that what you would prefer?"

and then, "I wouldn't want to take up your time."

"I never do things I don't want to do." His response was quick, he didn't have to think.

Again, you typed for some time before, "Oh, well if that's what you'd like."

A date was set.

Toji had insisted that you pick a place to eat.

The few days before your meeting you felt sort of panicked. Anxiety was a norm for you. You had always had quite the... sense of urgency, one would say. Your desk was pristine, your calendar forever in order, your work was always completed early, and well.

That was why your first meeting with Mr. Fushiguro had shook you so badly. You hated for people to see you as anything short of perfect, you hated to be venerable.

This anxiety was always the double-edged sword it sounded like, success clung to you in the way you needed it to. However, it had become an integral part of your identity, and now, you could not go without. The dread, the disappointment, the hurt that surrounded you when you did not succeed was like nothing your peers could understand.

You needed to prepare for this lunch. It consumed your thoughts as you turned in your final report for the day and went to sit with the dog. Questions had arisen within your mind when Mr. Fushiguro had sent his text.

"Are you taking me out to eat?"

"I never do things I don't want to do" he had said.

Thoughts of "why does he want to meet in person" prevailed. He was good at his job. Your dog had never been so easy-going. He could be left alone for longer, he had more energy to play, he drank more, and he had started fearing the delivery man less.

He deserved every cent you gave him, but maybe he was looking for a little more. That could be worked out, you supposed. Actually, you realized, maybe he's looking for a referral? That would make sense, maybe he wants to get in contact with more people like you, lonely... workaholics with dogs that deserve better.

Your eyes met your pooches', and his innocent, loving gaze lit a fire of cuteness aggression within your soul. Grabbing his fluffy neck you shook him a little while smooching the top of his head.

You would be more than happy to make a list of people in the market for a dog sitter that are willing to pay a competitive rate so long as you write him a nice recommendation. The man had saved your boy, it was truly the least you could do.

Before meeting, you prepared a list with names and numbers. You figured he would be pleased with your efforts, your impressive skill in finding him more clients.

A few days later you awkwardly played with your hands as you sat at the table of a nice brunch restaurant. You had sent the address as soon as he asked you to pick. You wanted to give him plenty of time to look online at the menu, prepare when to leave his place, and decide what he would like. (If only you knew how different this man was from you...)

Even with all your planning, you showed up early, you thought of what you would say when he arrived, how you would stand and shake his hand, thank him again, and try to put him at ease.

Unfortunately, nothing goes to plan when it comes to you and Mr. Fushiguro, and none of that happened.

In your time working with officials, presenting before boards of directors, and handling the communication between groups, you had learned how to read body language well, and even without yelling and obvious disruption, you could scan a room and tell when something was amiss.

The table you had selected was against the window, you faced away from the entryway, even so, just by looking at the guests around you, you could tell that something was transpiring at the front door of the restaurant. You turn,

"I'm sorry sir, our seating is for reservation only." The host was saying. Was saying in a antagonizing tone, was saying to a large man in slacks, a t-shirt, and zip up. Was saying to Mr. Fushiguro.

You stood quickly, the last thing you wanted was to upset the man, you began to speed walk in their direction.

"Yeah, I'believe I've got one of those." He looked up at the host, as if just seeing him for the first time.

The host nodded slowly, and breathed a sigh, the look he gave Mr. Fushiguro was nothing short of offensive, a slow up-and-down of his appearance before raising a brow, "This space has an implied dress code sir-" the host began

"Mr. Fushiguro!" You called before reaching the counter, "I'm so glad you could make it, it's an honor to see you again!" You rush out, quickly turning to the host before you could even make eye contact with your guest, "Excuse me, I believe we're done here."

"I- yes of course, ma'am." He did not offer to take you to your seats but you were glad to keep your eyes on the table as the burly man trailed behind you.

"I'm so sorry, I should have waited for you outside, that was my fault- they shouldn't have-"

"It's fine." He pulls his chair out and sits.

"If you'd rather eat somewhere else I would be happy to-" you begin.

"Nah. I don't care, lets order big."

You smile at his choice of words. Straight to the point.

It was odd, to not feel the need to maintain a constant stream of conversation. You knew what you would order, of course, but you played pretend as he looked.

"You always eat from places like this?"

Your eyes shot up, he was looking at you over the menu, "Huh? Oh, no... I usually just pack whatever, you know?" You smile and shrug at him.

"Hmm" His lips puckered out in a cute way, his eyes go to look to the side, "You prob'ly should... stuffs gotta be nice... no prices on here though." Shaking the menu, he looks to you.

You shift back to the tall piece of plastic in your grasp, "Ah.. no, just, just get whatever, it's on me, of course" You suck a breath through your teeth, "I must thank you, you know."

You try for laid back, easing the conversation into your gratitude.

"Yeah. I know. Y'don't gotta keep sayin' it. It was seriously nothin'. Just doin' my job." He waves a hand back-and-forth, emphasizing just how "nothin'" his efforts were.

"Mr. Fushiguro... please don't-" You wanted to smack your forehead against the table, but that wasn't appropriate, so you settled with avoiding his gaze.

"Toji, please." He held up a palm, stopping you.

"What? Oh... well, yes, please don't call it nothing, you saved my dogs life, and put yourself in danger too."

He rolls his eyes, and you want to gasp at his... nonchalance.

"Yeah, whatever." He might have gone on to say more, but a waitress had arrived and he pointed at you to order first.

You didn't want him to have to request anything from you, so when the wait staff had left you began your proposal.

"So, Mr. Fushiguro, I was thinking-"

"Toji." He seemed to look though you at that moment.

You look down, why must he be this way? "Toji... I was thinking," You meet his gaze again, a smile, "You're great at your job, I've never known my boy to be so relaxed, I figured you might be interested in the contact information of some of my co-workers. I would be more than happy to refer you if you were-"

As you continued speaking his eyebrows narrowed more an more until eventually, "Huh? I ain't lookin' to work for anyone else."

What? Well that made no sense... "Ah... you're not? I suppose I assumed you were. Was there something else you wanted to discuss?"

"No?" He made a face as if thinking of what you could possibly mean.

"No? If there is something I could do to accommodate you in any way, I would love to do it." Why would he ask to meet you in person if not to request something?

"What'dya mean? I'm plenty accommodated now." He leans back in his seat, a wide breadth between his arms. "You think I wanted ya here to ask for somethin?" He squints at you.

"No, no! I just figured....." You staggered, "well, why else?" You smile at him, he looks incredulous.

"If I was gonna ask you for somethin' I woulda asked." He tilts his head upwards in an intimidating way.

The food that afternoon had been good. Toji didn't get to learn much about you at all though. Your words racked his mind.

"Why else?" He would scoff that night at the thought. Why else? Well... why else? He didn't know either. He just wanted to see you again.

Toji never asked for anything, it was others that asked stuff of him, so your wide eyes, and indulgent smile stuck to his mind like scotch tape he couldn't remove.

Toji didn't realize- but he was hurting, because deep down, his identity was being threatened. For years he had been viewed as a sex symbol, a womanizer, a pleaser. Could it really be that you didn't want that from him?

Could it be true that you thought he wanted to meet...to ask for your co-workers contact info? Don't make him laugh. You couldn't have been more wrong. It hadn't even crossed his mind.

Why hadn't it?

He wanted to know you but dammit he hadn't learned anything. You were breaking him down and he didn't know what to feel.

He was laying on his couch, eyes pulled to the rickety ceiling fan. Your frantic attempt to preserve his feelings this morning brought a chuckle from him.

Damn you. What were you doing to him?

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

pt. 5?

—

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taglist is sadly now full! If you ever want to be taken off of the tag list please just let me know :] (if your name is here but you didn’t get tagged. I think it’s either bc your blog is new/blank/empty or you need to check your privacy settings)

[finalgirlmoment]

Noteworthy details about the first two PJOTV episodes (spoilers)

First of all, every single of them ATE DOWN. just wanted to throw that out there, i'm so so impressed with the cast, everyone was perfect and gorgeous and i'm completely sat for any and all future installments. A fine piece of media. Let's begin.

Percy's confusion and bewilderment finding out that he's a demigod. "You fell in love with God.... like, Jesus????" LMFAO but seriously his frustration in this moment, thinking there's something actually wrong with his brain, feeling lost and confused and hurt and BROKEN. the struggle in that moment is so relatable to people discovering they have some sort of mental illness or neurodivergence, especially when they weren't believed/listened to etc and i think walker played this part beautifully

GROVER AND PERCY PLAYING MYTHOMAGIC TOGETHER. GROVER AND PERCY PLAYING MYTHOMAGIC TO TRAIN PERCY. I AM LITERALLY SCREAMING OFF ROOFTOPS THE IMPLICATIONS THAT THIS HAS???? ARE YOU ACTUALLY JOKING??????? IMAGINE SEASON 3 PERCY FINDS NICO AND THEY HAVE THIS IN COMMON???????????!?!?!?!?!? FEELING SEVERELY FRANTIC AND MASSIVELY UNWELL ABOUT THIS

luke's empathy towards Percy throughout-- his apologies for what happened to his mother at the bottom of Half Blood Hill, him telling P that he relates to the nightmares, the restlessness, the ADHD..... so fucking sick and fucking twisted, I will be sobbing at the ending, gorgeous job on both ends on making this relationship feel very warm and authentic and the trust starting to build. this will H U R T.

CLARISSE. she's so gorgeous and vindictive. Her beauty took me off guard initially, but she's such a spiteful little badass that I completely fell in love with her. I CANNOT WAIT to see more of her characterization, especially into season two. perfection.

Percy burning the blue jelly beans- the thing he'd miss most- out in the middle of the woods at night in a damn can, just to pray to his MOTHER. *sobbing intensifies* i couldn't ask for a more sweet, heartfelt, honest moment. the perfect addition. 10s across the board

Percy's ANGER. OH BOY this was one of my most favorite parts. I feel like we see Percy as a very happy-go-lucky kid altogether but I loved, LOVED to see his frustration and agitation from the very beginning. Everything is so confusing and foreign and all he knows is that 1. he's been betrayed or left behind by everyone he knows and 2. he's been ignored his whole life by his godly parent. His mission is to MAKE HIS DAD SEE PERCY, at ANY COST. Before he even knows who his dad is. He is entitled to feel ALL of this anger and hurt and resentment!!!!!!!

Annabeth calling Percy "sunshine". TOTAL CULTURAL RESET. I gasped. The dawn of a new age of Percabeth. I will be screaming into my pillow about this for the foreseeable future.

The entire characterization of Percy throughout the capture the flag scene. His contrast of being just a kid- flossing (lol), peeing the woods, petting a gecko, just vibing and hanging out VS. being thrown suddenly into attack from his peers that don't care about the rules, surprising himself and everyone around him with his finesse in battle, quick instincts, swordsmanship..... i'm weak fr. I can't wait to see him grow, train, become stronger and more confident.

Overall, I'm entirely floored and beyond happy. I can't wait to see more. 10/10

[s0urw00lf]

Accidents happen

Pairing: Neteyam x reader

Summary: You and Neteyam find solace in each other. Maybe a little too much…

Requested by anon

AN: girl i’m so sorry it took me so long to get this out, i was procrastinating. But i hope you like it and maybe ill do a part two???

The night was quiet, and the waves of the ocean were soothing the nerves going haywire in your stomach. As the next in line of tsahik your connection with eywa was deep, even more so than your mothers for a reason unknown to you. You couldn’t help but worry something terrible was coming but you had no idea whatsoever what it was, that’s why you sat at the edge of the village on a rock, dangling your feet into the water. The pit in your stomach was heavy with bad feelings that were unknown to you. The waves softly crashing into the rock was working wonders calming your nerves, this was the most relaxed you’d been in weeks. You were relaxed but still alert, which is why your ears perked up when you heard footsteps coming from behind you.

You discreetly grabbed your knife out of its sheath attached to your hip, and when the footsteps got close enough you whipped around holding your knife menacingly. At the sight of the familiar boy holding up his hands in surrender after letting a ‘woah’ slip out, you lowered your knife. “I apologize I did not mean to scare you” he apologized, after lowering his hands. You let out a sigh in relief, “it is okay, guess i wasn't expecting anyone to be awake at this time” you said, returning back to your seated position on the rock facing the sea. He nodded in understanding, both that you saw though nor did you really care. “May I join you?” He asked, making you turn your head to him. You pondered for a second before nodding and turning your focus back on the horizon.

You two sat in silence before he spoke “what are you doing awake anyway?”. You looked over to him thinking of an answer “I am not sure if i'm honest. Just needed some peace away from the hustle of the clan i guess” you said not really wanting to go into detail. “What about you forest boy” you teased lightly. He smiled at the nickname you and your sister had graced him and his brother with. “It reminds me of home,” he said, gesturing to the line of trees about ten feet away. You nodded, “do you miss it?” You asked in curiosity. “More than anything” he immediately answered. Your expression softened, “I can not imagine it, being torn away from everything I’ve grown to know and having to start all over, that must be so hard” you said in thought, the thought hurts just thinking about it. “I can not show how badly I miss home, I must be the example for my siblings. I have to like it here so they do” he frowned, dropping his head .“My parents would not let me know peace until I achieved every task with ease” you frowned at the thought.

Neteyam tilted his head in wonder “your parents are hard on you?” He asked. You almost let out a laugh “Of course, I am the oldest, I set the example I hold the future of the clan in my hands. And do not even get me started on when my brother disobeys its always my job to watch over him and take the fall though I don’t have to worry about it much with Tsireya.” You said, feeling irritation arise. Turns out Neteyam had the same problem with his father. “I did not know, I have the same issue with my parents and skxawng brother. It is so hard sometimes, being the perfect son. Making sure I’m doing everything right while keeping an eye out for my siblings and not disappointing my parents” he vented.

“Growing up I always looked out to my parents and how amazing they were. They are strong and great leaders and I wanted to be that too, but now looking back I don’t feel as if I am. My parents do not look at me like they do my siblings; like I’m their child. Instead it is as if I am a soldier. I must do everything right, pass every test and look graceful while doing it so I don’t scare off possible mates. And do not mistake me I love my siblings with everything in me but it is so hard, I just wish to freeze time sometimes so I can breathe.” You ranted, somehow finding out that you were not alone in this life made you feel better. Neteyam is not judging you for letting your guard down and wanting to be normal. He’s listening and understanding and that is what you needed at this point in time. You both sat in silence after your admission. He reached over and grabbed your hand and you looked down an your hands and entertained your fingers with his. “I- I have this feeling in my stomach, a bad feeling like something bad is coming.” You let it slip fiddling with his fingers. You didn’t know why he mad you fee so comfortable but you couldn’t complain. Your whole life you’d had up this strong front but he was able to tear it down in a matter of seconds. He lifted his other hand to gently grab your face. Your eyes met his and immediately you saw the softness in his eyes, you also saw how beautiful he was. The glowing dots on his face were beautiful at night. You had never really looked at him before but you were confused on how you couldn’t see how attractive he was. He began to lean in, your breath hitched and your heart rate picked up. “Is this okay” he asked, his breathe fanned over your lips. You nodded and connected your lips.

That night things happened. You were not proud of it, in fact the feeling in your stomach worsened. You and neteyam actively avoided each other, you were terrified for your parents to find out, scared that they would desert the sullys and disown you. You’d been a ball of stress walking around the clan, ‘what would they say? We aren’t even mated’ you wondered. A few days later you found out you were with child after your body had begun to reject your food and your heart practically stopped. You tried to find any way to be away from your family when you ate just so your mother wouldn’t connect the dots. Eyes why? Was this what she was warning you about? Was it meant to be this way?

One day when you were sitting on your ilu at the edge of the reef your siblings had shown up much to your surprise. “Sister, you’re avoiding us” tsireya said worried. You frowned getting defensive “im not, im busy completing my tasks” you lied quickly. Aounung gave you a look as if saying ‘really?’ “I am, okay? I have a lot to complete before the ceremony” you said. Tsireya shook her head “are you okay? Whatever it is you can tell us we wont tell. Even if mom and dad are getting suspicious” she said muttering the last part. At that your walls crumbled, tears filled your eyes and cascaded down your face, “they will hate me, i can’t tell them. You cant tell them” you begged tears still falling downy our face. They both nodded profusely. “I- i am with child” you admitted. Both of their faces mirrored horror, Aonung more angry and Tsireya just complete shock. “What were you thinking, you know mom and dad will-” your brother scolded but you cut him off “will do nothing because you wont tell. Right?” You asked. You both stared each other down and eventually he gave up sending you a nod. “Who?” Tsereya asked, you knew she didn’t want to finish the sentence. You hesitated looking down “neteyam”.

”sister tell me you are joking” tsereya said, her face again filled with horror. “Why would i joke? I was stupid and now i'm paying the price. Hiding it from my family, mom and dad would send them away, the cannot suffer for my stupidity. They can be as disappointed in me as they want, not like it's anything new.” You defended. “Does he know?” Your brother questioned. You shook your head “no”. He scoffed “every word that comes out of your mouth makes me question how we are related.” He said. You squinted your eyes at him in irritation. “What hes saying is maybe you should talk to him. Come up with a plan and go from there. He deserves to know. He is just as responsible as you” tsireya interrupted before an argument could break out. You frowned in thought. If he accepts it you wouldn’t be completely alone if your parents decided to rid themselves of you. You nodded, making your way back to shore to find neteyam not sure how you’d break it to him.

— with neteyam —

his family noticed he’d been acting weird. He started getting irritated easily his fuse was short and no one knew why. “Bro whats your problem” lo’ak asked, getting irritated at Neteyam attitude. “Nothing, lo’ak” he replied shortly, dropping the pile of nets he was told to bring home by an elder. He entered his family’s mauri pod noting that his parents were watching him not so discreetly, something they’d been doing since they noticed his odd behavior. “Did you get the nets?” Jake asked, neteyam wanted to yell or throw something or hit someone. “Over there sir” he said pointing to the entrance to the pod. “Kid i told you to drop it off with my ilu” Jake scolded, neteyam walked over to the nets and grabbed them, his ears pinned back and his tail swished impatiently. He tossed the nets on th ilu waiting at the dock. He re-entered the pod “now its with your ilu like you asked” he said irritation lacing his tone. The pod filled with a thick tension.

Everyone held their breath waiting for Jake to do or say something. Jake stood making his way to neteyam grabbing his arm harshly “Hey! What the hell is your problem boy? Huh?” Jake asked, neteyam could feel the anger radiating from his father and lowered his head in shame. He wanted to cry, but he couldn’t. Not in front of his siblings. Not in front of his father. He had to keep it together. But he couldn’t keep the tears from pooling in his eyes. He lifted his head to meet his fathers eyes. “No problem sir” he said.

Jake immediately noticed the tears brimming his eyes and his grip loosened. “May i be excused” neteyam asked, his voice didn’t give away the tears in his eyes, but Jake could see the pleading look in his sons eyes. Jake nodded, in shock having not expected to ever see his son on the verge of tears right in front of him. Neteyam quickly took his leave. Kiri and lo’ak followed quickly after him. Jake turned to neytiri still in shock. She looked at him with confusion, she couldn’t see neteyam ace over Jake’s shoulder. “He was on the verge of crying” Jake told her. Her eyebrows raised and the same question filled both of their heads ‘what the hell happened’

Lo’ak and kiri easily found Neteyam sitting with his hands in his head. “What happened” Lo’ak questioned, seriously this time. “And if you say nothing i will throw a rock at your head” kiri kinda but not really joked. Neteyam shook his head his hair swaying with the rhythm of his head. “I messed up” Neteyam admitted. Lo’ak folded his arms “what could you have done that bad” he asked. Neteyam looked up to his sibling who were standing right in front of him. “Y/n an di spent the night together” he said. The silence that followed after Neteyams confession was deafening. Lo’ak and kiri looked at each other with wide eyes, confirming that they both heard right. ‘Did you mate with her?” Lo’ak asked. Neteyam shook his head, the lump in his throat prevented him from speaking. He was terrified, if his parents find out he was sure his dad would skin him and his mom would do nothing to stop it, but eywa help him if your parents find out. His family was at risk of being kicked out all because of him and that guilt ate him alive. “Have you checked on her?” Kiri asked, sitting down beside him. “No, I do not think I can” he said. Kiri sighed disappointed. “You idiot brother of mine, she could be going through worse than you. Man up and go talk to her. We’ll take care of mom and dad for now.” Kiri said. “Yeah go, don't be a wuss” lo’ak joked patting Neteyam’s shoulder. He felt lighter knowing he had his siblings support, so he nodded, standing up and walking away. “He is so dead” Kiri said. “This puts me in the clear for the next 10 years” lo’ak smiled.

— back with you —

you found neteyam way quicker than you would’ve liked, his dark blue skin stuck out in the crowd of teal blue metkayina. You slowly approached him, his back was turned toward you and he looked as if he was looking for something. Or someone. “Neteyam” you called. You saw his tail still and body go rigid. He turned around towards you with wide eyes. “Y/n” he said. You both stared at each other, behind him you saw his siblings peeking from behind a rock. “You told them?” You asked softly. He nodded, “just kiri and lo’ak” he said. You nodded “i think we should talk” you said. Neteyams heart dropped. He was afraid of the possibilities. He nodded, “would you like to go somewhere more private?” he asked. You nodded and the two of you began to walk towards the place you’d met that night.

Once you were there and settled, your heart was racing “i- i do not know what to-“ you cut yourself off with a sob. The fear of the unknown was beginning to get to you. Neteyam grabbed your hands and shh’ed you “Mawey, breathe” he said. You nodded, trying to catch your breath. after a minut or so, your mind was a little clearer, thought you still didn’t know how to break it to him. “I’m with child” you said, it slipped out before you could stop yourself. This time it was neteyam who froze. He hadn’t even thought about this possibility. A child. His world felt as if he stopped spinning. “Neteyam we are only 16 years of age, how can we- we’re not even mated” your mind raced faster than you could talk. You wondered how you had known longer than him and was still the most worried between the two of you, he looked deeply in thought. “Maybe we could still go through with it but in a traditional way” he spoke.

you looked at him in wonder, urging him to continue. ‘We could do the ceremony, I will court you and we will mate before you start to show. When the baby comes it will be ‘early’ but healthy” he explained. You were shocked at how quickly he was able to come up with an efficient plan on such short notice. “That could work, but are you sure you wan-“ “i want nothing more, i mean i never planned on a child this early but we could make it work” he said with full sincerity. You nodded “okay, we can do it, but we should probably speed the process” you said. He agreed, pulling you in for a hug, you relaxed in his arms for the first time in a week. You felt like you could breathe again. Everything was gonna be okay, not to mention your mother secretly liked neteyam, so if he was trying to court you she'd accept it. And your father would just want you to pick someone who could protect you and nobody was more trained for that than neteyam. “We’ll be okay” you said leaning your head into his chest. He answered with a “yes”