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tinycoffeeroom · 25 days

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more than enough | lando norris

face claim: none ♡

request: here !

requested: Hi lovely, I loved just friends!! Since reading, all I’ve been able to thinking about is bestfriend/roomate Lando. Maybe you’re not able to join him for race weekend and he hasn’t heard from you, like at all. When he returns, he thinks you’re not home until he hears the sobs and realises something is really wrong. Maybe you’ve broken up with your boyfriend and Lando is standing on the other side of your locked bedroom door, absolutely in love with you and hurting because you’re hurting 🫠

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

📍 Miami

liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren and 1,387,928 others

landonorris WE FUCKING DID IT!!!!! P1 in Miami!!!!! you bitches can't call me lando nowins anymore!!!

See 997,729 other comments

fan you can tell lando runs his own social media... ↳ mclaren it is our biggest burden

oscarpiastri well done mate! well deserved! ♥️ landonorris ↳ landonorris you next osc!!!

maxverstappen1 i said i'd have to collect my wins before you start coming for them, congrats winner! ♥️ landonorris

mclaren our papaya boy, you will always be loved (heart) ♥️ landonorris

fan WHERE IS Y/N?????? ↳ fan lando said in an interview that she couldn't come this week!!!! i'm sure she texted / called him

fan i know y/ns screaming and crying at the fact she couldn't be there this week

fan no lando / y/n hugging photo :((((( i miss my best friends

liked by fan, fan and 19,036 others

f1gossip Lando Norris' roommate and best friend Y/N L/N was caught in a heated argument with her recently debuted beau outside a restaurant in Monaco. The person who sent the photo in was too far away to hear the argument, but said Y/N seemed despondent to the situation, watching her boyfriend walk away before paying the bill and leaving quietly. Soon after, waiter's came to each outside table and told them Y/N sent her apologies for the commotion.

fan y/n :(((( was he the reason she couldn't go to Miami????

fan i'm gonna dox him ↳ fan i mean... i'm not gonna stop you

fan i have a knife.

fan i hope he's an ex boyfriend now wtf???

fan do you guys remember the pics of her and lando talking at padel and her bf was shooting DAGGERS at lando??? yeah somethings going on there ↳ fan we hate insecure men

fan lando i know u have money and connections i need this man to disappear

It wasn’t unusual for you to go radio silent after a race you weren’t able to attend, especially one on the other side of the world. Lando was used to a simple “congrats on P4!<3333” or wherever he had placed that time, and then you would be off to the land of dreams as he went about his day, shuffling between meetings and the media paddock.

Today was different however. Lando had actually won. He’d won his first ever race and his best friend and roommate was virtually nowhere to be seen. He couldn’t help but feel a little angry at you, you knew how much P1 meant to him, the hours he had spent moping around the little apartment the two of you shared after a bad race and the rants he would go on when he placed P2 but was inches from that ever so elusive win, slipping just through his fingertips.

He fired off one last text to you before sliding the phone back into the waistband of his fireproofs so he had his hands free to accept celebratory fist bumps and handshakes from every garage along the paddock.

The lack of communication from you slowly slipped his mind after he had interview after interview, the kind and excited words of the journalists filling him with pride as they recall just how far ahead of Max he had been. Sure, his mood soured everytime someone mentioned that he got lucky with the safety car but his mother always told him that luck was something to utilise, not something to rely on.

When he was finally free of the media’s hands, he checked his phone again. No messages from you which made him sigh, but one from Max. Opening their text thread, he’d dropped Lando a location pin for a well known bar in Miami along with the sentence “9pm, be there or be square, race winner”.

–

To be quite honest, Lando doesn’t remember much of the party. Hell, he doesn’t even remember getting there, Zak having plied him with glass after glass of champagne during their debrief. He’s pretty sure Oscar had been the one to zip his fly up when they met outside their hotel rooms before the party, hands moving up to recentre his shirt so only a slightly scandalous amount of chest showed.

Sitting on the private jet, again courtesy of Max, he thumbed through the last text thread between the two of you. You’d seemed fine, mentioning that you were going out for a meal with your boyfriend before the race started, and then… nothing. Complete and total radio silence.

Maybe you were still with your boyfriend, too wrapped up in that jackass to notice the 17 messages Lando had left you since last night.

God, he hated that guy. Ever since the day you had introduced him to Lando, he’d had a bad feeling. The guy was too touchy, arm wrapped securely and possessively around your waist like Lando was some kind of threat.

And maybe he was.

If he’d just manned up and told you the truth, that he’d loved you since the moment the two of you met one sunny day when he was still an F2 driver and you were the sister of one of his rivals, then maybe it would be his arm draped around you.

Instead he had smiled, rolled over and showed his stomach like a runt at the bottom of the food chain, and watched from afar as the guy whisked you away under a mottled sunset.

He felt a nudge at his side, eyes meeting Max’s curious ones. “Still no reply?”

He sighed, shaking his head as he pocketed his phone once again. “Maybe she’s busy…”

The excuse sounds weak even to his own ears, and when Max simply hums unbelievingly, he sighs again, mind torn in half at the elation of his win and the sadness of your ignoration.

–

Sliding the key into the door, he listened ahead for any sign of life. The sound of dishes clinking in the sink, or your playlist of noughties hits that he always pretended to hate but would secretly sing along to when you weren’t looking.

The silence that blankets him is unnerving. Too reminiscent of when he’d moved here alone and had all but begged you to join him, promising a rent free and easy going life.

Checking the kitchen, he sees it’s exactly as he left it last week. The living room is barely lived in, the odd throw misplaced from the back of the sofa. His game room door is still shut, as is both his and your bedrooms.

As he walks through to drop his suitcase off in his room, dreading the amount of washing that will fall out of it when he gets the energy to open, he hears a noise. From your bedroom, specifically.

Checking his watch, he sees its 2 in the afternoon. Normally, you would be up and out by now, dragging Lando to whatever new fad you had seen on tiktok, or to the padel courts where he would inevitably lose to you.

Leaning so his ear presses against the door, he can make out the shuffling of sheets. Maybe you had decided to do some laundry whilst you waited for him to get back. But then, the sound of sniffling joins.

He freezes on the spot, ear still pressed haphazardly to the wooden door. The sniffles get louder and louder, soon joined behind an unmistakable sob. He can feel his heart drop to the floor, his stomach joining it on its tumultuous way down.

You were crying. And he had no idea why.

Pulling away from the door, his hand hovers the knob. Should he knock first? Should he just leave you to it? Normally, when you were sad, you would sneak into whichever room he was in, either reaching a hand out to lay against his back or sitting close enough so your thighs touch. He knew you needed to feel some part of him in order to ground yourself, and he always obliged. Oftentimes, the two of you would end up cuddled on the couch, some soppy chick flick on the tv as you gave into the warmth surrounding you, eyes closing as you rested your head against his shoulder. Despite how much it hurt to see you sad, he couldn’t deny these quiet moments were his favourite part of any day.

Another sob breaks out, the sound so cruel and visceral, it was as if it had been yanked from your very soul. He forgoes knocking, hand twisting the knob harshly. He tries to push it open, only to be met by a force pushing back against him.

You’d locked the door.

In the 4 years of living together, neither of you had ever once locked your bedroom doors, knowing the other would knock before entering but still feeling comfortable enough to forgo privacy so the rooms could be open to the other whenever.

“Y/N?” He calls out hesitantly, as one would approach an injured bird.

The sobs become muffled, more shuffling of sheets before you call back to him, voice weak and torn along the edges. “Lando?”

He normally loved when you said his name, but the whine that accompanies it today leaves a sour taste in his mouth. He knows he should ask what’s wrong but he doesn’t know where to begin. He’s never not known why you’re sad, the two of you an open book shared between friends.

He starts the only way he knows how. “Did you watch the race?”

More shuffling of sheets and when you respond, your voice is closer. “I’m sorry Lan, I didn’t get a chance to.” A moment of silence passes between the two of you. “How did you do?”

He wants to be angry. He really does. The one time you don't watch a race and he only goes and bloody wins it. “I won.”

“What?” Your voice wobbles, wondering if you were imagining what he had just said.

“I won, Y/N. My first P1. 7 seconds ahead of Max.”

He waits for your response, probably some form of congratulations spoken through wood given your current mood. What he wasn’t expecting was for you to unlock and slam open the door, the both of you wincing as it bangs against the wall. “Say that again.”

He takes you in for a moment. Bloodshot eyes rimmed with violet, tears still making their way down flushed cheeks. You’re wrapped in your duvet, only your head visible as the duvet covers what is probably bedhead and your favourite set of pyjamas - flannel trousers and a t-shirt of Lando’s you had stolen at some point.

Shrugging his shoulders, he smiles warily at you. “I won.”

Throwing yourself at him, he takes a moment to steady the two of you, arms wrapping around the mass of duvets surrounding you. He can feel you crying again, tears soaking the collar of his shirt.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Lan. I should have watched, I mean you won and I wasn’t even there to watch. I’m sorry, please forgive me.” You choke through the words, fingers digging roughly into Lando’s back.

He winces at the feeling of your nails digging into his skin through the shirt, squeezing you even closer to him. “Don’t be sorry. Something obviously happened.” He uses the mound of duvet to pull you away, eyes flickering over your face. You look heartbroken in more ways than one. “What happened, sweet girl?”

Your lips quiver at the nickname, a hand poking through the duvet to reveal your phone. After 3 tries of using face ID, you huff, angrily putting in your passcode before turning the screen to Lando.

He scans the screen. It’s an instagram post by some F1 gossip page. He recognised the user as one who often tried to paint him as some womaniser, taking any regular interaction with a woman as a sign he was sleeping with them.

This post, however, is different. He sees you first, mouth in a tense line as you stare blankly at your boyfriend. Then he sees the caption.

The anger returns, festering and dark, this time directed to your dickhead of a boyfriend. “What did he do?”

You sigh, locking the screen and pulling your hand back into the duvet cocoon. “I said I wanted to go home because your race was about to start. He got angry and accused me of being in love with you. I pointed out that I was literally on a date with him. He called me every name under the sun, told me we were over and then stormed off. I’m sorry, Lan, this isn’t good publicity for you.”

He scoffed, eyebrows raising skyward. “I dont give a fuck about the publicity, I care about you. How dare he speak to you like that?” He can tell the angers bleeding into his tone but he’s about 2 seconds away from finding out where that prick lives and beating him over the head with a padel racket. “Are you ok? Do you want to put on a chick flick? Order a takeaway? Go to a rage room and plaster his face across every breakable thing?” Moving closer, he rests his hand against your jaw, nudging it between your tear stained skin and the soft duvet. “Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”

Sighing, you nuzzle against his hand. “None of that, Lan. I just want to cry and forget what happened last night.”

Swallowing his pride, he nods. “Do you want me to talk to him? I can tell him we’re not in love with each other. Just best friends.” The ending comes out a little bitterly, but he hopes you’re too distracted to notice.

You smile up at him affectionately. The simple curve is enough to make his heart flutter from where it had picked itself off the floor and wormed its way back into his chest.

Reaching up to lay your hand over his, lacing your fingers between his, you sandwich it between the warmth he so craved. “I just want to be with you. You make everything better.”

He reflects your smile, brushing his thumb along your cheekbone. You wanted him, just him, and for now that was more than enough.

#lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #f1 x reader

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satelitis · 11 days

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— BIRDS OF A FEATHER ♱ jason todd x reader

->we should stick together

pairings — jason todd x fem!reader

dal yaps — this is dedicated to @ivyppoison i hope you feel better baby <3

requested? — yes/no

the birds chirped gleefully signaling the new day had started, y/n and jason were asleep comfortably in each others presence entangled with one another as the cheeky sunlight peered through the blinds.

y/n had stirred awake, letting out a soft yawn as she looked over jason being still asleep, his face shoved into a pillow. his cheek smooshed as he slept with his mouth open slightly. quiet snores also being heard from him. y/n smiled as she ran her fingers through the boys hair. eventually, she stopped to pet the puppy lying beside jason, named doug, after the dog from up.

“why’d you stop?” jason groaned, still half asleep.

“doug deserves attention too, jay.” y/n replied, scratching the puppy behind the ear. he rolled over, now wrapping his arms around y/ns waist, placing soft kisses along her neck.

y/n frowned slightly, she had been thinking recently about jason, but the negative side of those thoughts got the better of her,

“jay, am i good enough for you?” she asked him, his head buried in her neck. he lifted up his head to look her in the eyes.

“baby, you’re more than ‘good enough’ you’re perfect for me, more than,” he replied, “why would you think otherwise?” he asked, his face now resembling that of a puppy. why would you ever think so low of yourself? he wondered. you were perfect in his eyes. you lit up his world more than every single light could. you made it so much better and he couldn’t even imagine a world without you in it, by his side.

“well, i’ve just been thinking, im not as pretty as those other girls, i’m quite the opposite actually, and i’m annoying…” she started, jason frowned. “i talk too much, and i just feel like i’m not enough for you,” she said.

“baby, you are way more gorgeous than any girl in gotham or anywhere else,” he started as he brought his hands up to her cheeks, cupping them. “and i love to hear you talk, your voice is like music to my ears and it’s so amazing hearing what you have to say.” he reassured.

y/n smiled as jason continued to reassure her, “now,” he added, “repeat after me.” he demanded. “i am jason todd’s awesome girlfriend and no one is better than me, and i’m so perfect for him.” he said. y/n let out a soft laugh.

“jayyy.” she trailed.

“nuh uh.” he tsked, wagging his finger at her. “say it.” he pouted. y/n sighed.

. “i am jason todd’s awesome girlfriend and no one is better than me, and i’m so perfect for him.” the brightest smile appeared on jason’s face.

“that’s my perfect girl.” he squeezed her shoulders reassuringly.

#dilly dallying #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagine #batfamily #batfam #dc robin #red hood #dcu #dc universe #dc comics #batman #gotham

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imwetforyourmom · 4 months

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my first fic posted on tumblr!! hope yall like, and if you do lmk if I should make more or js stick to edits

warnings: fluff ig, swearing and idk

Jealous.

christopher.sturniolo

504,678 likes

christopher.sturniolo 🏀

Y/nn And suddenly I have the desire to be a chris girl

christoper.sturniolo oops

matthew.sturniolo What the fuck

User Y/N IS FOUL FOR THATT

User y/n really said "switching sides..."

nicolassturiolo damn thats gotta suck @matthewsturniolo

christoper.sturniolo my bad bro

User I can hear matt crying in a corner

nicolassturniolo real

User damn bro, I was joking but ok

y/n was sitting with nick on the couch, both were scrolling on their phones. that was before matt came into the room, dragging his feet on the cold marble floor. y/n looked up at the sound of footsteps, and saw her boyfriend, whom was clearly bothered.

matt walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge, glancing around the fridge. y/n felt a little disappointed that he didn't acknowledge her, didnt even look at her once. she threw her phone to the side and got up from the couch, she walked to matt and wrapped her arms around matts waist from behind. his body tensed at this, and y/n couldnt help but notice.

"what's wrong baby?" she asked, her face nuzzled into his shoulder blade. he shook his head in return and continued looking through the fridge.

y/n wasn't happy with that answer but if her boyfriend didnt want to talk, then she wasnt going to force him. he'll talk when he wants, she thought.

there was no denying matt didnt want to relax into y/ns touch and give her all his love, but he was upset with her and he was planning on showing that he was upset.

he grabbed a pepsi and closed the fridge door, before subtly moving out of y/ns grasp. grabbing gently onto her wrists and removing himself from her warm and comforting embrace.

once he had gotten out of her arms he sighed of relief, of no longer having to fight the urge to hug her and pepper her with kisses. the overwhelming urge was soon to get him but he wasnt going to let it get to him that fast.

y/n put her arms at her sides and looked up at him, slightly confused but also understanding that if he wanted to move she'd have to let go.

matt glanced at her, then at his pepsi. fighting every fiber in his being not to kiss her head and tell her how much he loves her. he shook his head before looking at her one last time, taking in her features. how beautiful she looked, wearing one of his hoodies paired with his sweatpants and her hair down and slightly messy.

he muttered "fuck" under his breath before leaving the kitchen, needing to leave asap to hide the fact he wanted to shower her with all his affection.

y/n stood awkwardly as matt walked away, feeling rejected, but also a little relieved that she was no longer under his gaze as she was getting slightly insecure of how she wasnt dressed up and her hair was messy.

she stared as matt walked away, she thought about what all she could've done wrong. maybe he didnt want to be bothered? or maybe he didnt want to be touched, and she had just touched him.

but it didnt cross her mind that maybe what she commented on chris' instagram post might've hurt his feelings.

y/n followed matt, she felt she needed to get to the bottom of this. what had hurt matts feelings?

she opened matts door quietly, she took a peek and saw that matt was sitting at his desk, headphones on and on his phone. matt wasn't facing her, but rather facing his desk. so honestly, if y/n wanted she could creep up on matt and scare the shit out of him. but she decided against it, speaking of how it'd only make him more upset than he already was.

y/n shut the door behind her and walked to matt, she placed her hands on his shoulders, rubbing and massaging them. at an attempt to make herself known and also try not to scare him.

matt jumped slightly, but quickly recognized the hands currently touching his shoulders to be y/ns, as he knew her body more than he knew his own.

he took off his headphones and placed them on the desk, in case y/n wanted to talk. so now she knew he was listening.

"matt, sweetheart. tell me what's wrong. please." she asked, her hands keeping a pattern on his shoulders. rubbing her four fingers into the top of his shoulder and lower while her thumbs dug softly into his shoulder blades.

she knew this action both made him feel good, but also kept him at ease, like she'd want him this whole conversation. at ease.

matt let out a deep breath before leaning his head back into the chair and spoke quietly, "im- I just dont like what you said on chris' instagram post." even if it was something small and stupid that he knew for a fact he could get over easily, he felt a little jealous and insecure.

"I love you sweetheart, I can delete it and- and- ill do anything to make you feel better," she spoke with her tone gentle and calm. understanding that what she said on the post must've been wrong and matt didnt like that.

"im sorry baby." she kissed his cheek, and continued rubbing his shoulders. matt felt better and reassured, knowing his girlfriend didn't actully like like chris.

"thank you, y/n. I forgive you." matt leaned his head to the side and looked into y/ns eyes, seeing that guilt was clearly evident in her facial expressions. y/n looked down at him and smiled, she glanced down at his lips and pressed a small kiss to them, then she pulled away and kissed the tip of his nose.

989 words.

tags for my favorite ppl

@luverboychris @worldlxvlys @hysteria-things @gamermattsgf @inlovewithmattstur @plasticferal

#sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #matthew bernard sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo imagine #matt x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #matt #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo agnst #angst ig #angst with a happy ending

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vivwritesfics · 6 months

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How about a normal reader who’s not famous in the slightest and gets insecure while dating Charlando because they’re so gorgeous and they’re just…..them and the boys notice 😭😭😭

Okay so idk if people have been seeing the tiktok trend of the family asking about boyfriends at Christmas and then a celebrity (I've only seen drivers) show up saying they're late? Here it is in fic form:

The table was set for Sixteen people. Y/Ns mother was at the head of the table, with her husband on one side of her and her parents, Y/Ns grandparents, on the other. Y/Ns brother sat beside her father and aunts, uncles and cousins filled the other seats. That left only three, one for Y/N, one for Charles and one for Lando.

"So, no boyfriend this year?" Asked Y/Ns grandma.

It was Christmas, so the entire family was there. They had enough food to feed the entire city and enough lights to be seen from space.

"They're just late," Y/N mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.

Her family had been teasing her since she first announced that her boyfriends would be joining them for Christmas. Two F1 drivers dating her? Fat chance.

Y/N had shown them pictures, had gotten them on the phone, but her family didn't believe her. The only that would work would be having them there in person. So Y/N invited them over for Christmas dinner with her family.

They were coming from Monaco. Lando had a stop at McLaren and Charles was going with him, although he was going to be waiting in the car. They were due at Y/Ns place half an hour ago.

The family pushed back dinner, waiting for them. But they weren't going to wait forever.

An hour ticked by. Y/N texted the both of them, but only Charles was responding. He was still in the car, still waiting on Lando.

But then Charles' phone died. Just as Lando was walking out of the offices, his phone died. "We have to leave right now," he said as soon as Lando climbed into the car.

So, he set off, speeding through the streets to get to his girlfriends house.

"Face it, Y/N. You just don't have boyfriends. You've told us you do, and now you're caught in a lie."

Maybe they just weren't going to show. Y/N looked down at her hands, picking at her nails. No, they weren't showing. They were going to stand her up after nine months of dating.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Y/N was on her feet in an instant, pulling open the front door before anybody could say anything.

A smiling Charles and Lando stood on the other side. "We're so sorry, chérie," Charles said as he stepped in and kissed her. Lando followed, giving just as much of an apology.

Both boys were wrapped up warm. It took them time to discard of their layers, leaving them in the Christmas jumpers Y/N had bought for them.

Lando's one said 'have a lan-tastic Christmas' and Charles one was a Ferrari driving through the snow. They were perfect.

"I'm just so glad you're here," Y/N said, Lando wrapping his arms around her shoulders as Charles held her hand. "Ready to meet the family?"

"No, but let's do it."

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jymwahuwu · 2 months

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Jing Yuan who’s always trying to get y/n pregnant :( Ever since he first saw y/n at the Xianzhou Luofu as a traveler passing by since we loved to roam around the galaxy and explore new places and planets, loving the thrill of it more than anything else he got lovesick almost immediately!

He loves to see someone so young and beautiful doing such scary and dangerous thing like traveling alone so as a high ranked general he had to make sure y/n is safe on his territory so he made sure she is at safe and protected place that he was close by so he could be close to her :D

As you loved to be for couple of weeks at the place, you really did love to go out with Jing Yuan on walks and not even a week later at his chambers to play some chess or card games as Mimi fell in love with you almost immediately with you, almost not letting you leave but Jiung Yuan had go let you go for time being :(

Even though he knows he could be your ancestor with how old he is, he quite frankly doesn’t care about it at all. He’s a charismatic man so after 3 weeks of direct and indirect flirting and even a clear romantic dates, you were so shy still so he had to slide a bit of aphrodisiac in your drink the night he knew you would announce you will go in a week to another planet, how did he know? Well…he can just said that you look so cute asleep in your room, as he watched you through cameras he put in your room and those times he kissed you on your lips when he broke in your room, “checking on you” in dead of night as his sinful lips kiss yours for “good night”

He forgot how inexperienced girls are so fun to ruin and corrupt, make them dump :( The way he kissed you sinfully, take (ripped) your clothes off as he pulled you into bed with him… The way your body was so responsive to his touch, losing a count of how much you finished as he put you in a meanest mating press, splitting you hole so deliciously as he creampied you thought entire night, making you go limp for a week straight after :(

At end, there was no doubt when a day you planned to leave after a month, you cried in his arms as two bold lines on pregnancy test were signaling something you didn’t want or planned now, you just thought that you were to young, to childish and free for children, especially when you are not in a relationship with him, it was just a drunk night that was supposed to pass and not have any consequences. He kissed your insecures away as he got to corrupt you till end-

i mean, y/ns pregnancy look divine when your bump showed so quickly, i guess your 6 babies are gonna look so magnificent when they are will look like their daddy ;)

(hiii!!, i had this thought for so long and i didn’t know if you would write for this, so feel free to ignore this :3 haha have a lovely day!)

cw: yandere, non-con, forced pregnancy, forced breeding, aphrodisiac

Who can predict it? You planned your itinerary. Xianzhou Luofu was originally just part of your trip. In the end, you got married there, got pregnant, and settled down…

Jing Yuan knows that changing your mind in such a short period of time is a daunting challenge...especially when you have booked hotels and spaceship tickets to other planets. He tried, really hard. Flirting, dating, but how shy you are >_<

You are leaving. This is not a good sign.

And why - who are you, talented anon, why did you mention "meanest mating press" - I have to search for hentai of mating press again…😣

Whenever, the thought of jing yuan + forced mating press makes me lose my mind.

Those muscles of his are pressing you down, and you are helpless…weak, and your legs are pulled up to the extreme and pressed against your chest. His hands are irresistible. He can wield weapons and has participated in numerous battles. And you are at his mercy. His size hits your pelvic bone, and his round and thick cock reaches the deepest point, pressing against the opening of your uterus. The chaotic sound of water. Your buttocks were spread as wide as possible in humiliation, and with each thrust, the flesh on your thighs swayed slightly. A rough slapping sound. You looked at Jing Yuan with tears streaming down your face. Those amber eyes. Gazing affectionately, as if staring at the most precious thing for him for hundreds of years. His tongue tangled with yours. The slapping sound didn't stop all night long. The seed he has stored for a long time has not been released, and now it is poured into your body. And you can't even move your legs. Just be bred. Sore, sore, but the orgasm was still overwhelming.

#yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere jing yuan #yandere hsr x reader #yandere jing yuan x reader #honkai x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you

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atinyniki · 6 months

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i ruined it...

group: stray kids !

pairing: idol!lee felix x f!reader

genre: angst with a happy ending, fluff if you squint

warnings + additional info: reader is referred to as y/n, almost breakup, y/n doesnt think felix loves her, felix is referred to as lix, felix neglects y/n bc of his job, felix misses their two year anniversary dinner, felix has trouble breathing in the scene, felix cries a lot, proposals, promise rings, insecurities, felix has been broken up with a lot bc of this, y/ns fav flowers are peonies, fighting

authors note: i cried. i dont even know why this came to mind??? but it did !!! so enjoy the angst :P this is also not proofread. english is not my first language, so please excuse any grammatical or spelling errors. happy reading :)

wc: 2232

“i’m sorry”

“sorry isn’t going to cut it anymore, felix. you’ve said it so much i don’t think you mean it anymore.”, you bite back harshly.

you’re normally understanding of felix’s job. it regularly requires him to stay overtime and keeps him very busy, but he’s missed too many of your activities.

he missed ice skating, your birthday, at least ten dates, but now he’s missed your anniversary. two years that you’ve been together, yet it’s like you don’t even see the boy anymore.

“what…?”

“it’s always ‘sorry’. if you were really sorry, maybe you would’ve skipped dinner with the boys. you could’ve come home… to me…”, your voice falters at the last two words, cracking with raw emotion.

it’s not fair to you anymore, nor is it to him. he can’t leave group activities or basically anything work related, even when it’s an emergency. if no one’s in danger, then there’s no chance he can leave.

“don’t you ever want to see me…?”

his face contorts into an expression of disgust. not with you, but with himself. his tears finally drip over his lashline, eyes red and burning. the tears are continuous now, completely unable to stop.

“i do… i do want to see you… i miss you so much, y/n.”

you scoff, “don’t lie to me, felix.”

he opens his mouth to say something back, but only a squeak comes out. “do you still love me…?”

“i love you to the ends of the earth… i promise.”

“then why don’t you ever show it? i don’t even know if i believe you anymore.”

he clamps a hand over his mouth, not out of surprise, but to suppress his sobs. he continues hiccupping, but clutches his mouth harder, not wanting to make too much noise.

he tilts his head down slightly so you won’t be able to see the painful look on his face. he tries to pull through, knowing that your pain must be much worse than this.

the sight breaks your heart.

“take your hand off your mouth. you won’t be able to breathe”

he complies, quickly wiping his tears and taking long breaths. “please- please believe m-me. i really do love you. i’m so sorry.”

he says it again, and you look into his eyes. you can see the pain in there, causing your heart to crack even more. you know he’s dealing with a lot right now, but so are you.

and now you need space. time to think about yourself, and time to think about if this relationship is really worth it anymore.

“i swear, i mean it, y/n.”

“you’re the one ruining this. this isn’t fair at all, felix. i love you, but i don’t think you love me the same way i love you. you’re not making an effort in anything. i don’t know if this is going to work anymore if it stays like this.”

silence.

“i need space.”

“i can give you that.”

“i don’t think this relationship is good for either one of us right now. ill come back when im ready.”

he nods in understanding, but his eyes are blown wide. the second you leave the room, he starts sobbing again.

no, not sobbing. wailing.

there’s nothing else he can do. this truly might be the end of what he hoped would be forever.

he hurt you. he hurt you and that hurts him. your pain is his pain, but he knows you have it worse. if anything, he deserves this pain. you’ve had to bear this pain for months.

it’s his fault, he knows it. everything’s falling apart because of him, like it always does. everything’s ruined. it will end like it always does.

just felix, alone.

someone else will come along, and he’ll break them too. it’s happened time and time again, and he’s finally given up.

it’s you he wants to spend the rest of his life with. it has to be you. no one else has made him feel this way, not once.

what’s worse is that you’re truly considering breaking up. ending it all because of another stupid thing felix did.

and for this, he will never forgive himself.

he’s still crying, just as loud as before, but now snuggled up into the couch. it smells like you, he realizes. maybe that’s why he’s getting so emotional.

he plays with the promise ring on his finger, crying even more now. maybe he won’t need it anymore after this.

you start packing, taking a good amount of clothes and stuffing them in your suitcase. you’ll have enough space for everything, you’re sure.

you grab one of your favorite sweaters from the closet, it has an adorable baby chick embroidered onto it. you stare at it again, but then put it back. it reminds you too much of him.

you make your way to the bathroom, placing your hand on the counter while you open the drawers to check for any jewelry, when you hear a clink.

you place your hand down on the marble again.

clink.

you look down at your ring finger, a singular tear leaving your eye. you remember when felix got down on one knee on your one year anniversary. it was too early for a proposal, so you freaked out, but he calmed you down and opened the box.

a promise ring. a simple band to symbolize eternity. an eternity you believed you’d spend with felix. you’re scared that eternity doesn’t exist anymore, as much as you want it to.

you don’t know if he cares. if he cares about what you have. if he cares about you.

you remove the band from your finger, shaky hands placing it down onto the counter. you observe the thin tan line it’s made, has it truly been that long?

when did everything change…?

you look for the box that felix gave it to you in. you’ve never taken it off since you got it.

you check in your jewelry drawer, but it’s not there. so you check in his.

there it is. a navy blue box with gold accents on the edges. you smile sadly, crying a little more when you truly think about your circumstances.

you grab the ring from the countertop and flip open the box.

your heart stops.

it’s supposed to be empty.

why isn’t it empty?

there’s a gorgeous gold band on the inside, small peonies engraved into it. your favorite flower, you realize. additionally, there’s a perfect heart shaped diamond sitting on top, almost taunting you.

the heart was meant to symbolize your love. the love you have for eachother. the love he has for you. but felix has never been able to show that properly, not while under his circumstances.

is this the surprise he mentioned the week before? is this why he told you to dress nicely to dinner? is this why he told you to do your nails all nice?

it had to be, right?

you close the box and hold it tightly in your hand, trying your best to suppress the tears that are trying desperately to escape.

but your heart controls you more than your mind.

its almost as if your heart actually has a mind of its own, bringing you to where you are now. standing in the living room, watching the sobs rack felix’s body, velvet box still in hand.

his body jerks with each hiccup, the noise completely muffled by his hand. it’s then you realize that it’s not muffled, he’s suffocating himself.

you place the box down onto the table, rushing over to felix. you grab his shoulder, pushing him over and sitting him upright. he jerks when you touch him, not expecting you to be anywhere near him.

once he truly processes the sight of you, he cries even more. you pry his hand off of his face again, you know it’s a bad habit.

“felix. you won’t be able to breathe when you do that.”

“im sorry. i didn’t w-want you to- to hear m-me”

“deep breaths.”

he inhales deeply, trying his best to follow your breathing patterns, but it fails every time, broken up into small hiccups. “i c-can’t.”

“calm down…”

you give him a small smile, almost to reassure him. he tries again, but it doesn’t work. he shuts his eyes, unable to take it all, and the tears just continue to spill.

“i- i can’t… i can’t breathe”

you rub circles onto his back, trying your best to do breathing exercises with him. you forget how truly sensitive he is.

“i’m right here…”

“you’re r-right here.”

“mhm… i’m right here, felix.”

“you’re right here… w-why are you here?”

you tilt your head in confusion, wiping a single cascading tear away from his cheek. “i’m here to take care of you.”

“you- i… i don’t deserve it…”

“what?”

“i don’t deserve you. you can- you can leave. i’m not forcing you to stay…”

your heart is now barely holding on, and it feels like only a single thread is holding it together.

“i’m here because i want to help you, lix.”

“you don’t- no- you don’t need to help me… it’s my fault.”

you open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off.

“it’s my fault… i’m sorry.”

“felix…”

“you’ll leave…”

what’s going on with him?

“they all leave… n-not you too…”

“felix.”

“i don’t want you to leave… it’s all my fault.”

“felix, please, calm—“

“you’re going to leave…”

“i’m not going to leave.”

“i ruined it…”

it’s almost as if he’s stuck in the same state of mind, every part of the world being blocked out except for the terrible thoughts swirling around in there.

you cup his cheek with your hand, guiding his gaze towards you. one single look into your eyes, and he’s sobbing again.

you place your left hand on his knee, you know how much he loves to feel you, but he only seems to cry more.

he tentatively brings a hand up to the one splayed out in his knee, and you watch him out of curiosity. he giggles, and you look back up.

he’s crying even more now, you don’t even know how that’s possible. he picks up your hand by your ring finger, staring at the tan line that your promise ring created.

“i ruined it. how could i ever let you go…?”

he runs his thumb over it, and he quickly pulls your hand closer to his face. he places a soft kiss onto the line, just once, as to finally seal his fate.

it will never happen. he must accept it.

you don’t let go, instead intertwining your fingers. “i thought about it for a little. i really don’t want to leave you felix. i just… i didn’t know if you loved me anymore.”

“i do… i do love you.”

“i know that now.”

“you don’t know the full extent to which i do, y/n. i don’t just love you for what you have to offer. i love you for you. i love you for your smile, and i love you for waking up everyday. i love you for working hard, and i love you for your heart. i love you for things i can’t even see, and i love every part that makes you you. i love y/n. i love you. and i love you for being you.”

it feels as if the tears in your heart have finally been stitched up. every crack in your heart healed with his pure words. you know they came from the heart too.

“i can’t guarantee i’ll be there for every event, and im sorry for that. ive tried to change that, but the rules are strict. even then, i wont give up. i’ll try my best to change them, i want to be the best boyfriend i can be. i dont want to rush dates because im running out of time, but instead because i cant wait to get home and finally cuddle with you without being in the public eye. i dont want to be late to any events just so that i can see that beautiful smile on your face when you see me there. i just want to make you happy, happier than you’ve been recently.”

“oh felix…”

he doesn’t say anything else, placing your hand back down on his knee and retracting his hand. that’s when his gaze flies to the table in front of him, the dark blue velvet box staring right at him.

he stands up, grabs it, and then kneels back down, on not one, but both knees. it looks almost as if he’s begging, but what you don’t realize, is that he truly is. he’s begging for your forgiveness, and he’s begging for another chance.

he has to make things right.

“y/n… i know i haven’t been the best boyfriend recently, not at all, but i want to make things right. you’ve brought so much light into my world, and i want to bring you that light too. i just need you to give me one last chance. one chance to make it right. i know it’s not the perfect proposal, but please, make me the happiest man in the world.”

he flicks open the box, displaying the band you last observed in the bathroom.

“i love you.”

“that’s not a yes or a no.”

“yes, i love you.”, you repeat.

you can’t control your heart anymore, and you take the chance to push felix down to kiss him. you know it’s not the ideal proposal, nor is it the ideal post-proposal kiss, but your answer would always be yes.

“it’s you, felix. it’s always been you.”

“y/n.”

“hm?”

“i promise, i’ll never let you go again.”

#atinyniki #skz #skz x reader #stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #lee felix #felix x reader #lee felix angst #lee felix fluff #felix fluff #felix angst #lee felix x reader #lee felix x y/n

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bamsara · 9 months

Note

Question!

I want to draw some OC x Sun/Moon, but I'm kind of scared of how people might take it. I know a lot of people do like Y/Ns but I've got this character I really like and made specifically for the DA, but I know how... iffy some people can be with self inserts.

Does it kinda feel the same when you do Y/N x DA or is different? You think it's ok to have people ship their OCs with the DA? I'm asking this cause I'm a worry wuss and just need some outside confirmation. @-@

Cringe is a weapon used by the insecure to make people feel as miserable and boxed in as they are. Anyway go fucking sicko mode be nerdy and be self indulgent, the world is burning and the moment you get that 'no one cares' optimism it becomes a lot brighter and it's not because of the fires

Plus there's a whole community of people with OCs and self sonas sharing love for a piece of media or a character, you're not alone in wanting to do something enjoyable plus there are tons. TONS of ocs x dca already. Go be free have fun set something on fire

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sunofpandora · 5 months

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Heyyy so I saw your requests post and I’ve been dying to get this one off my chest, so how about a neteyam x omaticaya! warrior! reader where reader’s a fierce warrior (maybe a protege of one of the higher ups). And we all know Neteyam (the mighty warrior lol) is strong and also one of the best their age, but what if Neteyam had such intense feelings for her that all he wants to do is impress her but whenever she comes around he gets all klutzy and flustered? And of course she finds it funny and cute and all that jazz. Just fluff I NEED FLUFF

P.s. The decision to fulfill this request is yours and I won’t be upset if you decide you don’t want to. As long as you’re comfortable, all’s fine by me.

But yeaaa have a good day/night :)

Authors note:

Hi babes!

So I loved this request so much! So I decided to make my very first actual long series! ‘Virago’ is going to be an original work and one of my first long projects. Unfortunately, I will not have a TON of time to do smaller requests in between chapters but i will def try! I’m very excited for this and i wouldn't have even considered this without the request so thank you so, so much.

V I R A G O

Part 1.

The Day the Sky Turned Red.

8.7k words.

𝓭𝓮𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓵𝓼/𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼/𝓼𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓼/

‘Y/n was made of fire. Oh, a goddess girl with lips of lightning and a caged Phoenx under her skin. Neteyam is just the ashes and remains of the heavens she crushed under her heel.’

When grief plagues the young warrior, Neteyam gives her a gift. But it is enough to console the flames in her heart?

Neteyam and reader having a sun x moon relationship (hello 'diaphanous’ readers <3)

Warnings: Descriptions of death/ parental death/ reader is a war orphan/ as always, spider, the reader, and Lo’ak are a trio/ Lo’ak and Reader being platonic soulmates?/ Spider and Reader being trauma twins/ Neteyam being lovesic/ Neteyam being nervous and shy around reader/ Neytiri being mother/ Jake being the husband i wish i had/ Tuk being a little sister and looking up to y/n/ Mentions of grace’s school.

Mentions of insecurity, blood, war, guns, reader being mommy/

I think that’s it?

Oh right, Reader fell first but neteyam fell WAY harder.

Extra info:

Y/n is one year younger than neteyam, the first part of this chapter is a flashback to when y/n was 15. Kiri, Lo’ak and Tuk are the agesthey are in atwow for the first part of the story. They age up in part 2 (in story)

(Ka’lik is the name of Y/ns father, her mother’s name is Zensira. Both were warriors, but Zensira was the best songstress in the clan. (Ninat go cry to the plant in the corner))

Super important note for the request sender:

Hey gorgeous so ik you asked for fluff and don't worry babes. I hear ya loud and clear. Unfortunately the first part of this chapter will be a bit angsty bc the creative juice were flowing and i got carried away but I swear on my grave the rest is nothing but fluff and lovey dovey shenanigans,

Not proofread

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

To some, surrender was a comfort. A sanctuary of softly spoken submission.

To Y/n? It was a ‘bitch move’

3 years ago.

Day the sky people returned.

Y/n is 15-16

The Na’vi say, every person is born twice.

That we can redeem ourselves in the eyes of the great mother.

That being truly evil doesn't mean just craving the pain of others.

That the life of a single diseased root does not kill the whole tree.

That darkness is deadly, because like the brothers and sisters of bountiful green that dwell in the great mother’s garden, we too need sunlight to grow.

Your mother always told you monsters aren't born from a seed.

They grow when they are deprived of light.

But sometimes, we find solace in even the darkest of places.

That sometimes there's comfort in the dense night. Where others see hell, you build a home.

Sometimes we thrive in darkness because we feel we do not deserve the glory of sunlight.

Is it wrong? Is it terrible of you?

To see light where the great mother’s grace and the violence of the sky demons collide?

Things that were not meant to tear the ground of our great mother’s delicate skin.

Their metals and turning wheels, their combat boots and weapons that scream and spit fire.

But did it belong in your hands?

Your father would say,

“Each person is a thread, weaved within a tapestry that tells a story.”

The thing about stories is that sometimes, they may not always end well, or worse, they end too early. Some people stretch the thread as far as they can, too unsettled to be spread too thin, too soon.

Change is fundamental. Mo’at reminded you “there is no death, only change”

A moral structure that refuses to be severed. You believe that's whats what distincts na’vi from the sky people. Humans are quite flawed creatures. Humans love to dream and dance about stars and rain because their planet refuses to cry for them any longer. Humans dwell with memories that are haunted with light that only exists in the past, lingering behind desire to relive. Humans are afraid of grief, or loss. Of the empty void that lingers behind the shadows. Humans love to selfishly cling to the fantasy they don't live in.

You will never understand why they put themselves through such violent tendencies. To torture themselves. To provide reach towards an unseen daydream just to rip it out of their hands.

Humans remain. Na’vi evolve.

Na’vi find solace within the endless sky. Burning with color, blazing infinite. Na’vi dance on the precipice of the clouds.

Grief came over like the waves grazing the tide, promising reassurance and return.

Violence was never a necessity. A lingering intrusion of a spark that refused to become a flame.

But what lies beyond the sky? Was there truly a shadow behind the sun?

When the embers refused to settle.

You found yourself infatuated with open spaces. Abundance found within indecipherable notions.

Cracks in the mountains. Small tears in the tapestry where light leaked through the canopy of the trees.

Nothingness was never a threat.

Not when the promise of warmth remained.

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

Y/n met grief when she was only a child.

When she was 15, the RDA returned.

The day the sky turned red was the day the air smelled of sulfur and blood.

Gray and red were never a pretty combination.

The demon ship’s wings stirred the trees and a storm of dust arise,

Screaming, everyone running, the distant screeches of ikran and war cries.

The night your parents went out to gather some herbs, and never returned.

When the pale light of the moon became a blazing, scorching, blanket of blankness that simmered into a forest engulfed in white flames.

You found your mothers songcord on the ground the next morning.

Her body stained with red.

You stood next to Neteyam at your parent’s funeral.

You watched as Mo’ats hands guided the delicate floating Atokirina to rest upon your mothers chest as she murmured a prayer.

People have this inherent conception that the hardest part of grief is change.

The loss of warmth in the safest of places, when the shadows loom rather than live.

In reality, it's this unnamed feeling of a void.

Love is the amplification of a connection. Love distracts. It paralyzes you within its sanctuary of promises.

Grief feels like a shield with a hole blown through the middle. When the connection is shattered, and the sky is no longer protected without the scattered solace of the stars to veil the blank spaces.

Emptiness no longer infatuated you.

The sky without the stars is not a mystery anymore.

Neteyam held your hand. It didn't aid the hollowness within the cup of your palm. Guilt revenues in a realization, that even the great mother’s solace could not soothe this wound. This ache. This pain.

Neytiri’s soft sobs scorch the air with a soreness, the morning mist. Her fingertips, victims of bow strings and arrowhead edges gently brush the flowers placed around your mothers body.

Neytiri was your mother’s sister. Not biologically. Preservations in our blood don’t always remain unsevered when a bond is born.

Your mother sobbed with her when hometree collapsed. Helped unbraid her hair for her night with Jake. Your mother had saved Neytiri’s life.

All those years ago when the RDA invaded Grace's school. When her body trembled at the sight of sylwanins blood that painted the floor and the walls, your mother walling as she desperately tried to drag Neytiri away.

To have such a bond. The heartbeat of one another emplaced in your bones, to sing a goodbye song with cruel unmeasured melodies.

Jake held neytiri, gently rubbing circles onto her back, his own grievances had been paid due to earlier.

Kiri’s tear stained cheeks didnt go unnoticed. She stood close to her father, Tuk’s tiny body squished between them as Kiri sobbed into Jake's shoulder . Kiri had always admired your mother. Chasing her shadow like wisp catching the breeze ever since she was a child. A woman of eywa. A healer. A hunter. Her heartbeat reserved for her home. Her people. Her daughter.

Lo’ak had placed his own tribute to the small spread laid out before the gently laid corpses.

A small carved arrowhead.

Your father took over your mother’s job when she had other jobs to attend to, as being the one who trained a young group of warriors. Lo’ak included. He was patient with Lo’ak. Never discouraged him. A father liek mentorship had bloomed. So when his time came to join the great mother, Lo’ak contributed his own item of remembrance.

Lo’ak gave his arrowhead.

Tuk gave a small flower.

Kiri gave a small bundle of herbs the omaticaya believed was to aid the departing spirit on their journey.

Neytiri added a few carved beads from an anklet she wore. One your mother, Neytiri and Sylwanin had shared over the years, each of the three contributing beads or small trinkets to the piece.

Jake gave some beads as well. From a necklace your mother helped him make Neytiri when he struggled with the stringing of the oddly-shaped beads back when Jake was training for iknimiya, attempting to woo the young blue-skinned warrior he knew as neytiri.

All the omaticaya came to bear their gifts. Neteyam included, who gave you the gift of his warmth.

He cradled your hand in his, he raised it to his chest when the roots covered your parents bodies.

You’ve loved Neteyam for many years now. Watching him grow from a boy to a man.

You grew up next to the sullys. Your heights measured next to theirs as a child. Neteyam, Lo’ak, Kiri, even little tuk had built a circle around you. You were a part of their lives. They were piece of yours.

You found him in an irregular-shaped void in your heart that only he could fit in. Nights were filled of him. His voice. His eyes. His hands. The curve of his nose and the coves of his lips.

His voice was made of tender summers. His eyes were liquid gold.

You saw him. You truly, truly saw him. Not the evascent shell of the perfect warrior or son made of stone.

You saw him in the bleak day and in the night. When reality rivaled your thoughts of him, when the warmth of his touch seemed ephemeral, the invisible interstellar you swore was not a figment of your fantasies. You settled yourself from afar. Sullied yourself with stains of shame from the secrets you kept from him. The thousands of words you harbored, right next to the stars you swore you would steal for him.

This unrepeatable pattern became tiring, something you yearned to touch but your hands couldnt reach.

To tug on the silver string that dangled from this disguise he wore. This mask. This ruse of your heart.

He was to find the perfect mate. The perfect woman, A women to be the closest to an eywa incarnate. That wasn’t you. That could never be you.

Perfect with no edges. No uncalled for curves and no outward coves.

So you settled once again with the itching of your palms and the aching of your heart.

He was not yours.

Distance became a familiarity because distance was safe.

There was a time where the itching in your palmsd for his. Now, his had felt hollow as it held yours now.

Grief was a funny thing.

You stood here, your skin feels more like a shell. Your mirror feels more like a window.

Staring at yourself with pity.

Such a weak thing she is.

Sobbing.

What once was warmth and abundant is now hollow and overcast by anguish.

You start to resonate with the corpses that once rested in your line of sight before the roots of the tree engulfed them.

Why is it that the sunlight denies you shelter?

Why must your whole become hollow? The ashes of what it once was line a new path.

Is the sun falling? Have the stars collapsed? Will anyone catch them for you?

What is this? This pain? This agony? Why must it overcast your morals? Your rationality of peace? This homage harbors the resdiual of what little warmth is salvaged from this sunset of black.

You feel the merciless fire in your veins. You want revenge. The cage of a Phoenix becomes an eternity of warmth.

Even with neteyam at your side, the stars are falling. And the sunlight feels cold.

⋆｡☁︎｡⋆｡ ☾ ｡⋆⋆⋆｡☁︎｡⋆｡ ☾ ｡⋆⋆⋆｡☁︎｡⋆｡ ☾ ｡⋆⋆⋆｡☁︎｡⋆｡ ☾ ｡⋆⋆

Later that evening, the clan settled after Jake announced that his clan had to relocate to the Hallelujah mountains, where everyone would rebuild a stronghold and dwell with the loyal humans. To avoid any more bloodshed, Where the humans couldn't find you.

You sat in the Sully’s Marui, Neytiri behind you as you sat infront of the fire.

She rebraided your hair. You had mo’at and kiri unbraided for the funeral. Neytiri’s soft humming soothes you a bit, but your hands haven’t ceased their small tremors of shaking.

She gently runs her hands through your locks, placing a few beads on each braid.

Th hut is silent, Neteyam sits in the corner, he hasn’t spoken since after the funeral.

Tuk perches on Jakes lap asleep, Kiri at your side, rubbing your back. Lo’ak sat on the other side of you, resting his head on your shoulder.

“My sweet”

Neytiri’s melodic whisper whisked through the heavy gray.

“We leave in a few days time, at first light for our new home,”

She paused, her thought lingering behind a wall of hesitation, she exchanges a look with Jake, who nods at her, gently taking tuk off his lap for a moment,

“Y/n, hon, with what's occurred..-”

He waved one hand around, flicking his wrist against the air to try and demonstrate some kind of invisible concept.

But you know he was referring to your parents deaths.

“We don’t think you should be alone.” Jake adds. Neteyam nods with his dad’s words, attempting to gain some kind of partaking in this conversation without speaking.

Neytiri rests her hand on your shoulder, making Lo’ak lift his head to peer at you.

“What are you saying?”

It comes out as a breath, the unveiled remnants of the traumatic experience you had endured still fresh on your still-processing mind.

“Ma yawntu…We want you to stay with us when we settle in our new home. To stay in our home. We can take care of you.”

The warmth of the fire feels pale for a moment. I’ts vulnerability. Its shallow. Yet, Its deep, and dark, and you can’t see the bottom. Your’e left unguarded for a moment.

“I’ll be fine on my own-“

You pause when you realize how hoarse your voice sounds. you clear your throat, your gaze meeting Jake’s. His eyes soften a you an you can tell its pity. Something you would have considered affection becomes an insult. A weakness.

“I’ll be okay. I’m not helpless. I can provide for myself.”

Jake sighs and shakes his head, his words calm.

“Y/n. I know you are strong. Hell, you’re one of the strongest i know, kid. But This is not something we’re going to let you carry alone, I made-”

He pauses, taking a breath, his head tilting down a bit and his eyes squeezing shut before he raises his head to continue.

“I made a promise. To the people. To the clan. To keep everyone safe. And to your parents, we would look out for you if anything ever happened.”

The lump in your throat is dry as you swallow.

Neytiri kisses your head gently.

“Ma yawntu, we will look after you..we will guide you on this path.”

She gently guides you to look at her bow in the corner.

“My father. He gave me that bow as he laid dying.”

The air becomes thick, even the moonlight seems to freeze with its slow creeping up the wall.

The only sound is the soft 3-beat melody of Tu’ks soft breathing as she sleeps, but her heavy eyes flutter open now and then as she nuzzles into jakes side.

Neytiri squeezes her hand on your shoulder to keep her voice from breaking, her chest tightening.

“He told me to protect the people.”

The pain in her voice breaks through the cracks in the walls that kept the shadows out, cages that kept the anger in.

“I owed your mother my life. I could not protect Zensira.

I have let the demons take another from me.”

The red in her voice stained the shadows behind ehr words, the sharp syllables in ‘demons’ evident, Kiri closed her eyes and winced at her mothers words, still holding your hand.

She took a breath and gazed at you.

“But yawntu, i will not let them take you. I will protect you. You have always been one of my own at heart. The skyships will not take that from us.

The familiar sting you felt only a few hours ago returned to your eyes along with the ache in your chest.

Jake nodded.

“We can be stronger together, Y/n. Let us look after you.”

The wisp of shallow aches still burn behind your heart but you nod, silently.

Lo’ak smiles in an attempt to lighten the load.

“Just like old times, sis. We used to have sleepovers all the time, now we get to have them every day.”

Neytiri was about to scold Lo’ak for his bluntness until she heard you chuckle,

Tuk’s big eyes blinked open as her tired voice mumbled.

“Now you can play with me more..and braid my hair..”

She mumbes as she smiles to herself. Jake chuckles and ruffles her short braids.

Kiri squeezes your hand and Neteyam’s gaze hasn’t left you since the beginning of the conversation.

You took a walk that night, creeping around the hammocks of the sleeping sully family as you quietly ventured outside the small camp village.

You stand under a tree, the moonlight leaks through the canopy as you start to count the stars. You wondered how the sky and the heavens could still be standing when your whole world had collapsed around you just earlier that day.

When you were small your mother would tell you not to pull on the loose thread of her tapestries she wove. Because the more you pull, the faster it will fall apart.

Thats how you felt. One loose string being mercilessly tugged and then all the colors were fading away, you chased them, you chased them along with the falling stars but no one caught them for you.

Your heart has been thieved. Your light has been stolen.

Sin and soul seem to have a war under your skin, and the soft lllabies of the creatures of your planet seem to have more of a shriek-like quality.

Why did the colors go away?

Did they chase you to the place i cannot follow when you went away?

“Y/n.”

You jump slightly, the chill in the pale air becoming a prick of awarness as you reach for the knife on your hip, turning around quikcly.

Neteyam stands before you, his wooded-honeyed scent fills your nose, you blink as a breath of his name leaves your lips.

“Neteyam-

Oh Neteyam you scared me, you asshole.”

Usually he would have laughed. But not today, not with the shadow that looms.

He gently touches your arm.

“I’m sorry, truly-

What are you doing awake? Are you hurt? Are you in pain? Did something-

Did someone-”

You laugh at him. But its bitter and its thin. Its forced.

“For eywas sake why does everyone think i am the weak link suddenly-

I am fine. Stop looking at me like i am wounded-”

Neteyam cuts you off.

“Y/n, i would never think such a thing about you, ever. You know this. I want you safe, you can’t expect me not to be concerned when you wonder off in the middle of the night, syulang”

The nickname from whe you were children is a warm familiarity at the least.

You huff and lean against the tree bark.

“I just needed air.”

Its small and muttered.

A shaky breath left your lips.

“I’m trying to find ways to endure my own thoughts.”

Neteyams eyes soften as he steps forward, he gently takes a place y beside you, back against the tree as he stands next to you. Your hand brushes his, but your fingers refuse to interlace.

The two of you stared up at the stars for a moment.

“Teyam?

“Yes?”

“Do you think it’s ungrateful to feel as if you have nothing, even when others orrond you with love and promises?”

“I’m not sure I follow…”

“Is it wrong to feel alone when your in the arms of others?”

As it falls into place for neteyam, he gazes at you as if you were a mystery in the moonlight.

He tries to see past your walls, to place himself in your shadow.

He glances at you, then back up at the sky.

“No. It’s not ungrateful. I think we’re all born with some sort of circle around us.”

You pause for a moment, looking over at him.

“A circle?”

He nods.

“A circle. The people we love and care for? the people we would do anything for? The people who make our home, they all belong inside our circle.

My father, my mother, Lo’ak, Tuk, Kiri, they're all a part of my circle.”

He pauses for a moment, his tail swishing behind him.

“And…you are too. You’re apart of my circle, Y/n.”

You gaze at him and he withers under your eyes, averting his eyes and fidgeting with his necklace.

After a moment, he speaks again.

“I can’t imagine loosing people in that circle…things must become so…empty. As if the world seems too small all of the sudden.

So no, it’s not selfish to feel alone when that circle is gone.”

His words spark comfort. The hollowness within your palm seems less heavy.

“Thank you.”

You whisper, and he nods at you.

“You don’t have to be alone, y/n. My family…when they spoke to you tonight about staying with us when we travel to the mountains, it was not because there’s a need to replace what you once had. Y/n, we want you to embrace this new circle-“

“What if I’m not ready to find a new circle?”

The vehement tone you were bearning stunned neteyam for a moment.

“Your mother was right. The sky people will take, and they will kill, and they will hunt, until everything under the sky of pandora is either dead or theirs..”

Your eyes hardened for a moment and Neteyam was still as he took in your words.

You look up at the moon once more; taking a breath.

“I do not wish to fear them anymore, Neteyam.

I want them to be the ones who fear us.”

There was a new found devotion in your heart.

A bitter song of fire and desolation.

Vengeance.

Each note a new mockery of blood and ash. Every chorus an unfamiliar revelry of hunger.

That night, under the fallen stars and the cold moonlight, the inextinguishable plotted purpose was born within you.

Neteyam sighed; his gaze fitting back to the moon.

“And so you will..”

No.

Don’t.

I don’t want to loose you in the fire.

But he didn’t dare speak it aloud.

After a moment, he spoke again.

“I have something for you.”

He felt his heart flutter when your eyes met his.

He reached into the pocket of his loincloth.

“It was a gift I planned on giving during the ceremony.”

You felt twitch of anguish as you recalled the memory.

“You already contributed your gift..you gave that armband my father taught you how to weave.”

He gave you a tender look. The kind whispered in the solace of summer and soft secrets.

“It is for you. Not for your loss.”

His words unclouded a new warmth in your chest.

For a moment, your anger ceased to simmer.

“I made this, for you a long while ago..but I never found the right time to give it to you.

Then..the incident happened and I knew it wasn’t a good time..I was planning on giving it to you on this day..but the plans changed.”

He opened his palm to reveal a small carved wooden spiral, polished and smooth. 3 strings with little charming dangling.

The first charm was 2 purple colored crystal, the second was a wooden bead that wore a Maude color, with a tree carved on it, the last was a stack of small purple beads with marbled colors.

He placed it gently in the palm of your hand, and you cradled it with such delicacy.

“Oh it’s beautiful…”

Your breath truly caught itself in his trap.

“When we were young your mother made you that necklace out of those crystals and small jeweled beads, the one she found in the river?..you were so happy to wear something so colorful..I remember the purple ones were your favorite. You always placed them so that they were in the middle. I’d thought I’d add them as a small bonus.”

He smiled at the memory.

You hugged him, your cheek pressed against his chest, he was stunned for a moment but hugged you back, you looked up at him and your breath caught for a moment, your faces mere inches apart.

You both Depart slightly and avert your eyes.

“Thank you. It’s lovely, Neteyam.”

You said softly, he nodded and smiled at you.

“The spiral suits you. Even now with this great loss you bear. It’s a connection. Even to those who are no longer with us.”

You smiled at him back, and the two of you started to walk back to the village.

How could you not see it? The spiral. A sign of support? Of friendship? Of trust?

No my dear Y/n.

It was how he felt like his soul was steadily orbiting around you. Thoughts of you never ended.

His circle.

His spiral.

You were the center.

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓

Years later….(y/n is now 18.)

(her code name is “X” neteyam’s name through comms is canonically ‘pathfinder’)

Jake yipped to Neytiri as she raised her bow and looked over her shoulder.

Her face is adorned with war paint, much like yours. She had painted you for the day. Red, purple, blue, the colors of your ikran worn proudly like a hyde of victory.

“Remember the plan.”

Jake says through his throat comms, his volume fighting the wind. You held your two fingers to the small mic on your neck so you could hear through your earpiece.

“Neytiri and I will strike from above, X, you're my Archer. I want you to hit em’ quick and move out fast. Eagle Eye, pathfinder, you two are spotters. Do not engage in close range, or air combat, understood?”

You heard lo’ak groan through his comm.

“Bro, why does Y/n get to have all the fun!?”

You felt a tinge of pride. Knowing you were Jake’s right hand out in the field. Higher ranked than either of his son’s. A skilled Archer.

“Because I'm older and I have more fun.”

You quipped back, unable to hide the smile in your voice.

“Ya know what'd be fun? If you were to crash straight into one of those mountains and fall in your cocky as-”

“Both of you! No arguing on the comms!”

You refocused as the smell of ash and metal was fast approaching. YOu and the war party arrive on the scene right on time

You flew up above the train tracks and watched as the vehicle crashed into a collision of smoke and ash on the derailed tracks. The air scorched to sting your flesh with an uncomfortable heat.

Neytiri let out a ululating sound to signal to you as she flew down to help Jake. Behind you were 3 smaller aircrafts.

You grabbed your bow from the side saddle, mentally commanding your ikran to dive.

Everyone who witnessed Y/n fight swore the wind under her ikran’s wings were grazed with fire.

She was made of red-ribboned rainstorms in a scarlet blaze of uncharted wind and wildflowers.

For a moment it’s all too real. The encore of your arrows, the satisfying stretch of your bow string, Like the last note before the chorus. You dive down, sliding down the neck of your Ikran ever so slightly as the wind stings your cheeks, the sunlight strong. You draw back, a loud call escaping your throat, and the arrow flies.

Its in a blink of an eye the cockpit window is shattered, the pilot now sporting an arrow of yours through his neck as the metal gray bird ceases it’s flight and collapses in a cloud of smoke and sulfur.

You’d usually be celebrating if two bastards weren't behind you.

You grasp two arrows this time, the long wooden shaft in your clutch as you line them up properly for the next shot.

The pilots pathetically attempt to surf with the wind beneath you, scattering your duo targets into far off spots.

Thats the thing about humans. They tiptoed on the wind as if it was uneven ground. Na’vi warriors like you danced upon airstorms and harsh rains. A swirling spiral of helix grazes your skin as you feel one of their shots fly past you the heat just missing your ikran,

You soothe him before regaining your position, you mentally make a new command to your ikran.

‘Drop’

In a moment, the settled feeling of security that once shaved your bones seems to wither away.

Your ikran free falls, rolling against the wind that whips and wails. Your chest heaves as you ready your shot, the reverberation from your bowstring sings to your fingers as the two arrows fly, hitting both pilots as your irkan regains a flying position instead of a falling one, all adrift in a fleeting shot.

The aircrafts fall together, crashing against the ground.

The ground team jake had arranged comes into view frm the side forest clearing, all watching in awe as if you were the embodiment of phoenix.

They raised their bows and let out warcalls, you pridefully returned, raising your bow above your head and releasing a war call of your own.

Neteyam watched from afar. His ikran synced with Lo’aks as they circled the scene below, na’vi led by Norm gathering all the weapons they could.

But he couldnt let himself focus on the world below when all he could see was the woman made of exquisite inferno and grace was scorching the sky with her blaze.

Neteyam felt the wind brisk through his braids as he looked up, squinting against the sunlight in hopes to catch another glimpse of you.

The light of day made you seem grazed with gold that brushed the cobalt hues.

He watched as you shot down the aircrafts, he watched you shoot two arrows.

To Neteyam, you were made of fire.

Remnants of moonlight and high-tided sea storms. A hellish radiance and a scarlet soul.

Neteyam remembered the night he saw the flame embed itself in your soul. The night he gifted you that carving that was now a charm that rested tied to the long expanse of your bow.

He hated it. How inconsolable he feared you were, how he feared this new alit flame would burn his touch away from you. Useless was an understatement, of how he felt that night, even the stars above refused to guide him down teh right path.

He knew you were angry.

He was angry too.

He wanted to fight just like you did. His hatred for these sky demons simmered beneath his skin. He was a warrior. He wanted to fight next to you and his father. He was a protector of the people.

He had seen what they had taken from his home, from his parents, his family, from you.

At first, he thought it was jealousy.

The way Jake encrusted you to be his main archer. To shoot down sky ships.

Neteyam? He wasn’t anywhere near the fighting. Not anywhere near you.

He knew his father thought him and Lo’ak were “too important” to be fighting.

Jake was trying to salvage the sons made of stone before the heat of war can melt the rock.

Were you better than him?

Stronger than him?

Why did his father trust you more than he trusted his eldest?

As he watches you now, the archer who had her arrowhead aimed at his heart from day 1.

He knows its love. It must be.

It keeps him awake at night. The devoured feeling that gnaws at his heart. You were the center of his sky in all your celestial glory and he wished he would have gifted you the entire universe but instead he gave you that carved spiral.

He loved you because where other struggled to see in the dark you danced with dusk. You were a paradox. Detached, but focused. Because you somehow made the most dissolute and reckless seem graceful. You were real. Imperfect. Unconfined hunger bordered by each beautiful bruise blemish and scar that covered your skin.

You haunted him.

“Bro!”

And funny enough, it seems eywa created little brothers for a different kind of haunting.

Neteyams eyes flickered to where Lo’ak circled around him on his ikran.

The cold colors tattered across the ikrans purple and blue skin, trapping the yellow large speckles of shapes of the banshee’s skin.

Lo’ak’s echoes dwindle in the gust of wind, the war paint he wore proudly on either side of his face, Neteyam had watched Y/n paint Lo’ak after his begging back at high camp.

Something about Lo’aks smile in situations like these always found ways to disquiet Neteyam.

His eyebrows hover above his eyes as his fangs bare through his smile.

“Bro! We have got to get down there!”

Neteyam shakes his head, a warning look traces his features.

“No way! Dad will skin us!”

Lo’ak shakes his head, the wind uplifting his braids as he dives.

“C’mon! Don’t be a wuss!”

The flushed first notes of an uncertain heartbeat ablaze neteyam’s mind as he dives as well.

“Shit! Lo’ak! Get back you dumbass!”

Lo’ak dived blow into the musk of what might as well be no man’s land. The air wailed and whipped around him as he hopped off his Ikran. Yanking his kuru from his banshees and running towards the chaos in question.

He looked over his shoulder to see Neteyam following suit. He laughed, waving his hand through the dust and smoke.

“C‘mom bro!”

“Lo’ak!”

“Lo’ak come back!”

Lo’ak faltered momentarily when he saw Norm directing some navi’s into a brigade to gather all the weapons from the train’s supply cart. Swiftly swerving to stay out of the dream walkers sight, he joined the forming crowd where around where Tarsem had just opened a new cart of guns.

“Here boy- take this weapon! Go!”

Lo’ak let put a silly war cry and puffed up his chest,

Neteyam came to a halt.

“Lo’ak, you don’t even know how to use it.”

Lo’ak waved the gun around like it was weightless, handling it like one of Tuk’s toys.

“Nah bro. Dad taught me!”

Neteyam rolled his eyes, done with Lo’aks bullshit.

“I’m sure he did-

Let’s go-“

He grabbed lo’aks bicep but Lo’ak shrugged him off.

“Or maybe I’ll just be like y/n and shoot down some sky demons!”

Above the clouds, you circled the ensuing hustle below. Watching the brigades, monitoring the ground team. Your bow at the ready in its position on your saddle sheath.

And then you saw them.

“Son of a bitch!”

You hissed quietly, swiftily diving down to where the duo of your headache embodied currently argued about something stupid.

Lo’ak smiled as he saw you, but it faded as he watched the shadow of your Ikran (which was larger than the average Ikran, granted)

Loom over the both as you hopped down, glaring at them.

“What are you two shitheads doing here!?”

The feathers on your raid top gently shook in the breeze, a few of your beads clanking together in your braids as you made your descend.

Neteyam seemed to straighten, but his breath seemed to form a blockade for his own voice.

Maybe it was the way the brightly covered beads and feathers of your top accentuated your skin. Or maybe it was the way the fathers in your braids matched your waist beads Kiri had made you.

Maybe it was the way your loincloth seemed a bit more perfect than usual as it hugged your hips.

Maybe it was the way the red, blue, and purple war paint on your face outlined your eyes like wings and shed down your cheeks like tears, sorrowed in starlight for you had just been warrior of the wind.

I guess we’ll never know.

Lo’ak spoke for him.

“We wanted to help! C’mon, we have the ground team to be spotters! They don’t need us! I’ve been practicing the trick you taught me with the bow, just let us fly with you- we promise we’ll-“

You shot Lo’ak down before the words flooded further, the scarlet hues ablazed and begged for nothing but obedience in your voice.

“Kehe! You will do nothing-! Go back to your post. Both of you. Now!”

You swatted Lo’ak with your bow, hissing at him, Neteyam tried to drag Lo’ak away.

“Bro let’s go!-“

The sound of heavy mechanical whirring instilled the heightening of your awareness in the moment, your ears pining back as you saw the larger ship approach.

“Gun ship inbound!”

Jake shouted, you saw neytiri hiss and take off on her Ikran.

“Shit! Run!” You cursed, shoving Lo’ak and Neteyam in the opposite direction and making a break away from the approaching enemy.

As it would seem time was not in your favor, your Ikran had already been spooked away by the blast, Neteyam grabbed your hand before you could run,

“Come with us, now!

Go-!”

He shoved Lo’ak ahead of him as they ran, Neteyam’s hand clutching yours as you kept pace with the two.

The 3 of you climbed over the derailed debris, Neteyam and you scaling the bright yellow RDA logo train doors,

“Bro come on!” Lo’ak called.

A flash of light invaded your vision, the scorching heat of the blast incircled you.

You feel Neteyam attempt to reach for you, but instead all you feel is a tug on your wrist as your senses start to numb.

Your airborn for a moment, then your body collides with the uneven ground, the rocky surface below.

You groan, your vision blurring. The embers and ash clash against your skin in the harsh sting of the hot air.

You winced in pain as the adrenaline started it’s course of abandonment. The aching sensation swallows your body.

Scarlet etched its way in a jagged scratch on your side. The world seemed to darkn as the scarlet hues slowly faded to black. The sky’s golden and blue game of chance changes its rules as your eyelids become heavy.

Neteyam’s eyes shoot open as his vision readjusts itself clearly.

Lo’ak is above him, shaking him awake. Panic in the half-notes of his jagged breaths.

“Bro!? Bro! C’mon, get up we gotta go!”

Neteyam stands to his feet, groaning, but quickly regaining his senses.

He looked down at his hand to see where something small and beaded made its home in his clutch.

A bracelet?

Your bracelet.

It hit Neteyam like a tidal wave.

“Shit! Y/n-“

Neteyam tried to run past when his body collided with a taller one, Jake stood looming over his son’s, placing one hand on each of their shoulders “Hey! Easy, easy, where’s Y/n?! Are you hurt?!”

Neteyam tried to speak but all it was met with is stuttered breaths and a poor panicked exclamation.

“That way! I meant to grab her arm and I grabbed this instead-

The blast-“

Jake didn’t hesitate as he started running in the direction you were in, Lo’ak seemingly still in shock and Neteyam following his father without missing a beat,

“Stay behind boy! Get your brother out of here!”

“But sir-“

“That’s a direct order!”

Norm, quickly dragged Neteyam and lo’ak away to the sidelines of the forest to make their quick escape.

The sound of a screech flooded your ears, the footseps barely audible over the smoke and wind.

“Y/n! Oh child, Eywa please no.”

You reached for your knife with the last ounce of motor control you could muster, before a hand gently lifted you on your back, the sun’s blinding silver line halo of heat scorched your eyes, you hissed and winced in pain.

The hands were familiar, it calmed you rather quickly.

You knew it was neytiri when the blurry shape of gray purple and green, faintly recognizable as her bone collared-top.

You groaned, the raw rushes of pain encased your vision.

“I’m sorry-”

You mumbled.

“Shh. No apologies, my dear girl. Come, we must go. Quickly.”

The last thing you remember is the gently shrill of her Ikran and her hand around your waist was she settled you in front of her on her ikran. The Scarlet hue no painted the wind.

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓

When you awake, its to the sound of herbs grinding soflty in a boil. The reverberations of the grinding tool against the small wooden bowl make your ears twitch.

Your vision settles. Mo’at sits infornt of the small fire in the tsahiks tent, Tuktirey by her side.

Her big eyes blinking at her grandmother’s handy-work, her much smaller tail swishing to the beat of each sound.

You sat up slowly, with a small wince. But the pain was significantly better.

Tuk gasps

“Y/n! You're alive!”

She wraps her arms around your waist, nuzzling her little head into your chest. You smile at the smaller girls, roughly a few of her braids, kissing the top of her head.

“of course I’m alive, yawntu! It would take a million Sky People to take me out.”

You teasingly mocked the position of an archer, holding a pretend bow and arrow made out of thin air as Tuk laughed.

Mo’at gently cleared her throat, making her way to you as she placed a hand on your shoulder.

“ Child, your wounds were deep, but they shall heal quickly with the salve. Kiri shall be back with more herbs soon. But please rest, simply until the bandages are removed.”

You nodded greatfully, squeezing her hand in a gesture of thank you.

She was the closest thing you would have to a grandmother, even before your parents began their journey with Eywa. You never got to meet your actual grandparents. They died in the attack on hometree. The only memory you had of them was through the clans' stories.

You wore a choker that was strung with river pearls and brown leather, a small navy-blue colored stone in the middle. A treasured piece your grandmother once wore.

Tuk snuggled up to you in the hammock, and you gently rubbed her back.

A soft rustling made your ears perk up when Kiri slipped through the tent flap with a basket of herbs.

“Tsmuke, (sister)

You are awake.”

Her expression softened, as if tensed up since the moment you returned unconscious. It probably was.

She handed the herbs to Mo’at and kneeled at your side, gently brushing a few of your braids away from your face.

“How are you feeling? Better? I used yalna bark when grandmother wasn’t looking. Was it Lo’ak again? It’s always Neteyam getting in trouble and you getting hurt when that sxkwang gets bright ideas-“

You gently stopped her mid rant. Holding her hand gently to your chest.

“I am fine, Kiri. A few scratches and bruises has never done much harm.”

She chuckled softly, standing back to her feet to assist Mo’at with the rest of the preparations for other wounded warriors.

As the hours passed, and the sun started to set, Kiri had to drag Tuktirey off to bed and Mo’at left the tent for the night. Leaving you alone to find sleep.

Mo’at had insisted you sleep in the Tsahik’ s tent tonight. Get some extra rest.

You didn’t argue. It was better than sharing a hammock with Lo’ak. The boy snored more than what you were almost certain was normal.

It was an understatement to say you nearly killed someone when you heard the tent flap rustle. You jumped, instinctly reaching for your knife.

It was well after hours.

Everyone should be asleep.

Who was it? Were you followed when you left the train?

Was it a sky demon? An animal?

You slowly felt your heart steady once again when you saw a small pale figure enter your tent, the small glimmer of his mask dances in the firelight. Lo’ak is behind him, looking less hyper than usual. Instead, a subtle tinge of gray flickered past his eyes, but it quickly gilded itself to green and gold once it settled on your form. He released a breath of relief and spider smiled.

“See? I told you she was okay.”

It took you a moment to realize that Lo’ak was worried about you.

You gave him a small smile opening your one arm that wasn’t aching, and he slipped himself under it, sitting next to you in the hammock, resting his head on your shoulder.

Lo’ak was your best friend. But really, he was so much more than that.

He was your family. Your ride-or-die.

Your right hand.

It made you feel a bit guilty, that Lo’ak seemed to prefer you over Neteyam sometimes.

Lo’ak wanted you to be his teacher when it came to his archery training and sparring. Lo’ak wanted it to be you who he went on hunts with.

Yet again, he also only lets you braid his hair because apparently neytiri pulls too hard and Neteyam doesn’t know how to tie them off properly.

Spider was a bit of a different case.

As you grew older, you realized how much you envied your motehrs sense of lightness.

Her entire being seemed to be made of golden hour gardens and softly whispered summers.

She was strong. The strongest woman you knew.

But she was kind.

She wasn’t like Neytiri in the sense that she resented all humans.

Your mother always felt a sense of protectiveness over Spider. A small, pale boy who used his heart instead of brain, chasing shimmyflys and tripping over vines that were larger than him. She welcomed him into her circle. She shielded him from the storms of strange staring and pesky fears.

Your mother always cared for Spider. Helped him re-twist his locs and make him new loincloths and hair beads. Some of your earliest memories were you and spider playing with the small carved toys in your family’s tent, or giggling after dark under the blankets after your father told you both to go to sleep.

She argued when spider had to go back to his foster family, and ended up making bargains with him to stay overnight every few days.

You’re almost positive it’s the only motherly love spider has ever known.

He cried when your mother died.

You think he might have cried more than you did.

Sobbed for days with you, and it brought you closer together.

You smiled as Lo’ak fidgeted with one of the bracelets on your wrist.

When you were about 8, Lo’ak was 7, spider was 9, your mother carved you these special beads for the three of you to use.

You three decided to make bracelets and your father helped you string them together, all collecting charms and gifting them to one another to add.

The two biggest stones were carved river crystal the two boys collected, Lo’ak rolled the beads between his two extra fingers, sporting a bracelet of his own you and spider made him.

“So, I heard you got your ass kicked.”

Spider snickered. Sitting down in front of you.

You whacked him with your tail.

“Fuck off. Those sky demons ate my arrows.”

Spider groaned,

“I’m so pissed. I heard you fell down in a explosion and ate shit-

And now one took a picture for me!”

Lo’ak threw and arm around your shoulder and wiggled his eyebrows.

“Oh yeah. And her Romeo was panicking because he didn’t save her in time”

You flushed, shoving him away.

Spider laughed, standing up.

“I can only imagine-“

He cleared his throat, before making his voice go an obnoxious pitch higher, twirling his locs around his fingers and batting his eyes, mimcmking what was supposed to be you.

“Oh Neteyam! My big strong warrior man! Come save me!”

You hissed in annoyance, but couldn’t help but bite back laughter at the back of your throat.

Lo’ak stood to his feet, puffing up his chest and taking his braid out of the way he tied them back, letting them hang, deepening his voice and stomping towards spider, dramatically holding him in his arms as spider collapsed with a loud rehearsed sigh.

Lo’aks Neteyam imitation sent you over the edge, you were now cackling and had rolled out of your hammock.

“I’ll save you from the demon ships with my bow and arrow!”

Lo’ak, you, and spider all break into a fit of laughter, rolling around on the ground. Lo’ak steadying himself by burying his face in your shoulder as spider banged his fist on the ground, finally, as the laughter died down, the three of you stared at the top of the tent, out of breath, the only sound being the gentle wheezing endnotes of your breaths.

“Glad you kicked some ass today. Those fucking RDA pilots didn’t stand a chance against you and that bow of yours.”

Spider whispered. Nudging your shoulder gently.

You smiled at him, Lo’ak squished in between you.

The three of you said your goodnight s, and you watched the two missing parts of your circle leave the tent before they could get caught after lights out.

You nestled back into the hammock, staring up at the ceiling.

The aching in your arms hasn’t completely vanished it’s fortification of pain in your shoulder.

You gently rub circles around the small carved spiral you untied from the long shaft of your bow when spider dragged it inside.

You played with the small crystals and the beads, gently humming to yourself.

Your fingers traced along the shape, Neteyams eyes invaded your mind.

It was fascinating, really. How a warrior such as yourself had won today's battle and yet the one thing you truly yearned for was still not within your grasp.

It hurts sometimes, to think about how beautiful he was.

The way his irises encompassed golden hour in all its starlight sessions.

The air was thicker in the mountains like this, up here in high camp. Perhaps that’s why the sweltering residual warmth that rippled across your skin like lillies to a pond every time you thought of him

You wondered if he tasted like the sun. Sweet, possibly bitter. Bleak and addicting, such a delicacy deserved to never touch your lips.

Alas the stars did not align for you.

Not tonight.

You trace the spiral one last time before letting your eyes flutter closed.

Your tail flicked as you heard yet another rustling.

The sound of footsteps, slightly heavier than last time.

You groaned.

“Spider did you forget something again?..”

When no answer was heard you grumbled. Standing to your feet and untying the tent flap, only to be met with two two golden hour orbs that had just plagued your mind.

“”Neteyam?..”

authors note:

I’m finally done! I haven’t slept in two days but I’m finished. I can’t decided whether I like the way this turned out but I LOVE some of the smaller little details. Y/n is such a badass and she’s in her reputation eraaaa. We love to see it 😩👏 this first one was a lil angsty but I PROMISE y’all, this series is NOT angst. I’ve got a ton of stuff planned. I’m thinking maybe a little bit of jealous Neteyam? Some humor? Spider and Lo’ak being the captain of the ship? Mo’at being a sassy Granmda? Maybe some sister bonding with Kiri? AHHH IM SO HYPED. I, about to pass out and I can’t feel my fingers but that’s it for now! Stay tuned for part 2 🏹

-Sol

Jan 2034

“Virago” series, chp. 1.

Taglist:

@plooto

#neteyam x reader #neteyam #avatar the way of water #neteyam sully #jake avatar #kiri sully #avatar fanfiction #lo’ak x reader #neteyam x you #neytiri

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negans-lucille-tblr · 5 months

Text

The Luckiest | JDM x Reader | Oneshot

Summary: A premier leaves Y/N feeling insecure, but luckily her husband knows how to help.

Rating: 18+ (Smut)

Pairing: Jeffrey Dean Morgan x Reader (Reader is about Jensen’s age)

Tags: Daddy kink, insecure!reader, insecurities, minor angst, oral sex (fem rec), p in v, praise kink, validation, fluff

WC: ± 2.7K

A/Ns: Commissioned by the lovely Tina. Hope you love this <3

JDM Masterlist || Find out how to get your own commission here!

“Wow, Danneel looks incredible,” you sigh, your eyes landing on the dress that looks like it was handmade for Dee’s exact figure. Her hair and makeup are just as flawless as the rest of her, and she poses with her husband effortlessly as you shuffle awkwardly next to your own husband.

“She looks nice,” your husband agrees, “but you look better.”

You scoff at him, shaking your head in disagreement. Even though you and Dee are nearly the same age, you feel like your days of looking anywhere close to as glamorous as she is are past you. She’s even managed to have three kids and still look that good, and that just doesn’t seem fair.

You glance back at your husband to see him rolling his eyes.

“What?”

“You,” he chuckles softly. “I can practically hear your thoughts.”

“Oh yeah, and what am I thinking then?” You prompt, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re thinking that you’re not as pretty as her, and that you’ll never be that pretty, but you’re wrong,” he insists with a nonchalant shrug. He pauses when the organiser you’re standing beside ushers you onto the photo line. “Because I think you’re the most beautiful, perfect girl here,” he adds casually, stepping out to begin posing for the cameras.

You feel a little flustered for a second, just staring after him as the flashes illuminate him. He looks so perfect tonight in his suit without a tie. He looks over at you, a smirk gracing his lips as he lifts his hand and beckons you over with a flick of two fingers. You immediately obey, sliding up to his side where you feel totally safe, and pay the cameras no mind, finally putting the thought of your comparison to Dee out of your mind for a moment as you ride the high of Jeff’s recent words.

You giggle when he leans down to kiss your cheek and then he presses his mouth to your ear and breathes hot breath against your skin.

“Fucking gorgeous, baby girl,” he growls softly, making your insides flutter.

“Can we go soon?” you plead with your husband once all the formalities are over with and there’s just alcohol and mingling left. “I’m tired and my feet are killing me,” you complain, shuffling around in your uncomfortable heels.

Jeff chuckles softly, glancing down at the floor to your shoes, before looking back up and into your eyes.

“Five more minutes? I promised Jared I’d have a scotch with him,” Jeff explains softly, and you whine quietly under your breath but don’t protest too loudly, afraid of offending someone around you. “Don’t worry, princess, I’ll make it worth the wait,” he smirks devilishly, and then slips away, off to find Jared, you presume, and you wonder just what he means by making it worth the wait.

Your mind at first thinks of something sexual, because after that smirk, you’re pretty sure he was coming onto you, but you can’t think of anything worse right now. You’ve spent the night surrounded by women far prettier and slimmer and better than you in every single way, and all you want to do is curl up in a ball of self pity and sleep this whole evening off. You’re not sure what’s really gotten into you lately, but you’ve never felt this badly about yourself before. You’ve never loved yourself, but your insecurities have never gotten this bad. But then you suppose you and Jeff have been married a short while now, and the ‘honeymoon’ phase died off a little while ago. He used to barely keep his hands off of you, and while he still says the right things and calls you beautiful and makes you feel loved, it’s been a while since you’ve been made to feel sexy.

When Jeff finally pries himself away from the boys, he finds you once again, and wraps his arm around your waist, finally putting you out of your misery and telling you you can go home. He leads you out to the limo quietly, and opens the door for you to climb in, getting in alongside you. The driver takes you home, and you sit in silence with your husband in the back for a short while, just looking out of the window until you feel his hand on your thigh. Turning your head you catch his eye, and offer him a weak smile at best, feeling truly exhausted and ready to get out of your stupid dress, feeling like you’re trying too hard.

Jeff doesn’t say anything, and his eyes leave yours as he glances towards the driver, the partian most of the way up, so he reaches over to the switch and closes it completely. That’s when his hand slips down your thigh, to the hem of your dress, and then under it, moving back up to where it was, only this time, on your bare skin.

“What’re you doing?” you whisper, even though you know the driver won’t hear you through the privacy screen.

“I’ve tried to keep my hands off of you as long as I could, but I don’t think I can resist any longer,” he states matter-of-factly.

You scoff and shake your head, wondering if he’s just saying and doing all this to make you feel better. He’s not acted like this since you were dating.

“Jeff, c’mon,” you sigh, pushing his hand away.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, blinking.

“I’m not in the mood, okay?” you insist, feeling tears begin to press at the backs of your eyes as you look out the window again.

“Is this about Dee?” he asks, his hand once again on your thigh, but this time it’s lower down, over your dress, and he squeezes it lovingly.

“No… yes… maybe… I don’t know, Jeff, I’m just tired, and I feel shitty,” you finally conclude.

Jeff sighs heavily, his thumb brushing back and forth along your leg. “Alright,” he finally relents, and much to your disappointment he lets go.

For a moment, you feel annoyed that he hadn’t tried harder to cheer you up, wondering if he too thinks that Dee is more attractive than you, and when you glance over at him to wonder what he’s thinking, his eyes are fixed on his own window, and stay that way for the rest of the ride home.

It’s even quieter between you as you get through your front door, and you’re even more determined to get into comfortable clothes and go straight to bed, but before you can make your way to the stairs, you feel Jeff’s hand wrap around your wrist and tug you backwards, bringing you towards him.

“Jeff, please,” you whine, but when you finally look up at him and see the darkness in his eyes, you pause your protests.

“Jeff?” he questions, “have you forgotten your manners, young lady?”

“No, Daddy,” you reply, almost so quickly it’s embarrassing.

“That’s better,” he nods, and a tiny smirk dances along his lips. “Now, do you really want to go to bed, or do you want Daddy to remind you just how perfect he thinks you are?”

Jeff hadn’t pulled out the ‘daddy’ card in a long time, and instantly you remember back to the days spent between sheets when you first started dating, and how he would be so perfect at taking control, but there was always something so soft and caring with everything he did. You were his, you belonged to him, he could make you do anything he wanted, but in return he made you feel safe and protected, and like the most special thing in his world. And that’s when it hits you. This is what you’d been missing, this is what made you feel good about yourself before, and since it stopped, it’s like you felt like part of you had been taken away. And, of course, Jeff is just utterly perfect and can somehow read your mind and know you better than you know yourself. So of course, he knows exactly what he’s doing right now.

“I think I need a reminder,” you finally tell him, your voice quiet and soft.

“I think you’re right,” Jeff nods in agreement, pulling you tight against him, reaching up to caress the side of your face lovingly. “Because I don’t like the way you talked about my baby girl tonight.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you whimper, feeling like you’ve let him down somehow.

“That’s okay. It’s my fault, I forget to remind her how she drives me crazy. I stopped telling her how often I find myself watching her, wishing I could be inside her all day every day. I guess she doesn’t realise how often I find myself thinking about fucking her.”

You whimper at his words, your legs becoming wobbly for a reason other than your heels, now. Your aching feet are the last thing on your mind as your pussy begins to drip in your panties, and you rub your thighs together for friction.

“I just wish she’d believe me whenever I do tell her these things. Because I really couldn’t wait to get her home tonight, I couldn’t wait to get my hands on her skin, couldn’t wait to rip this dress off and leave it on the floor. She was the only one that could steal my attention tonight.”

“Is that why you had a scotch with Jared?” you bravely sass, and Jeff chuckles, a little darker than usual which only makes your insides flutter.

“If I remember rightly, teasing is one of your favourite forms of foreplay,” he smirks, and you pout your lips, hating that he’s right and he knows you that well. “Now if you don’t mind, baby girl, I think I’ve been patient enough tonight,” he growls lowly, bringing his lips to within millimeters of yours. “I wanted to spend the car ride there with my mouth between your legs, but I didn’t wanna ruin your outfit.”

“Well you can ruin it now,” you breathe out, “Daddy,” you quickly add when you remember.

“Good,” Jeff growls, his hand twisting into your hair as he closes the gap between you and kisses you fervently.

You expect him to move it towards the stairs, or maybe even lift you and carry you to your bedroom, but Jeff does no such thing, and after a few moments of making out in the hallway, he begins to guide you backwards, towards the couch in the living room, pushing your back against the tall arm. You're just tall enough to slide your ass onto it, and Jeff’s lips leave yours as they drop to your thighs, and he eagerly pushes your dress up your legs and pulls your panties to one side, placing sloppy, wet kisses up the inside of your thigh, pushing your legs apart.

“Fuck, Daddy, please,” you whine, pushing your fingers through his hair and making him chuckle against your skin.

“I’ve missed that word on your lips,” he groans, biting down on your skin playfully.

“I’ve missed it too,” you admit, your eyes fluttering closed in anticipation.

“Fuck, baby girl, you’re fucking perfect, look at you. How did I get so lucky, hm?” he hums, and then licks a stripe through your slick, only moaning louder as the taste hits his tongue.

“Oh shit,” you gasp, throwing your head back in the ripple of pleasure that washes over you at the first sensation between your legs.

“You taste so fucking good,” he praises, licking another stipe, and another, before sucking your clit between his lips.

He dines on your pussy for what might be hours, and your legs tremble and shake around him when you release your third orgasm onto his tongue, panting heavily as you start to come down from your high, only to feel Jeff’s mouth build it back up once again.

“Please, Daddy, want your cock so bad, please,” you beg, wearily.

“How can I resist when you beg so fucking pretty?” he groans, finally standing at full height, unzipping his slacks and fisting out his rock hard cock. You moan at the sight which makes him chuckle, and instinctively your legs widen further as if to invite him in. “Jesus Christ, baby girl,” Jeff growls, his lips and beard still glistening with your slick. “I could make myself cum just watching you like this,” he smirks, his fist slowly moving up and down his shaft.

“No,” you whine needily, wanting him inside you before he even thinks about ending this. “Want your cock, Daddy, please,” you beg.

“Alright, alright,” he laughs, stepping forward. He reaches up and softly wraps his hand around your neck, forcing you to look right at him, his cock teasing your entrance. “Do you wanna know what me and the boys talked about tonight?” he asks, and you instantly nod your head, wanting to know absolutely anything he is willing to tell you right now. “I told them how I couldn’t wait to get you home, how lucky I was that out of all the girls there tonight, you were the one I married… I told them how hard you made my cock the second I saw you in this dress this evening,” he tells you. “And d’you know what Jensen said?”

You shake your head, your heart thudding in your chest. “No,” you whine, still desperate for Jeff to stop teasing and push his cock inside you already.

“He told me he couldn’t blame me, told me I was a lucky guy,” Jeff confirms, a smirk spreading over his mouth. “I couldn’t agree more.”

The fact that someone else thinks that you’re attractive – someone who is married to someone as perfect as Danneel, no less – seems to do wonders for your confidence, and if you hadn’t already started to lift out of your funk thanks to Jeff’s words tonight, this would’ve certainly done it alone. Jeff seems to choose that exact moment to sink into you, and your eyes roll in pleasure as he hums and whispers about how perfect you feel, and how he never wants to fuck another pussy, how yours is the only one he ever wants wrapped around his cock again.

His constant praises and brutal thrusts are enough to keep your climaxes coming, over and over again as you desperately try to hold onto your last remaining shred of sanity, but by the time Jeff’s through with you, you’re barely able to move, and your whole body trembles in his hold when he finally pulls you into his lap and strokes your hair as you both recover on the couch together. You smile happily to yourself, feeling so much better than you had been earlier this evening, and maybe it’s the countless orgasms he ripped from your body, but you feel like maybe you could believe at least some of the things Jeff had told you.

“You were lying weren’t you?” you finally ask, looking up at him.

“I don’t lie to you, baby girl,” Jeff insists, with no room for an argument in his voice.

“Jensen didn’t say that,” you tell him, adamantly.

“He did, actually,” Jeff chuckles. “Actually made me a little jealous,” he admits. “I urm… I know I’m not as attractive as him, and he’s younger, could probably keep up with you better,” he blushes.

You scoff, sitting up to shake your head at him. “Are you kidding? I was the luckiest girl there tonight.”

Jeff shakes his head, and you quickly realise that you’re not the only insecure one in your relationship, and you wonder if this is how you make Jeff feel when you say similar things about yourself.

“Okay, here’s the deal,” you announce. “I’ll start believing you if you start believing me.”

“Alright, deal,” Jeff nods, smiling softly. “But on one condition,” he adds, which makes you frown slightly. “We bring that Daddy thing back because fuck, that was hot.”

You laugh and nod your head. “Yeah, I guess I’m okay with that,” you smirk.

Please let me know what you think of this fic! Feedback is the fuel to writers' fires! My anon is on if you'd prefer to leave feedback anonymously!

Find out how to get your own commission here!

#the luckiest #jeffrey dean morgan #jeff x reader #jdm x reader #jdm #smut #angst #fluff #oneshot #commission #negans-lucille-tblr

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ethansluvbot · 1 year

Note

hey!! can you do what it would like dating jack champion?? only if u want to tho! :)

HEADCANNONS | JACK CHAMPION

warnings: none just fluff

jack worships the ground that you walk on. he heavily depends on validating his partner. not a second will go by without him posting about you or complementing you.

“you know you’re gorgeous, right?” jack walks up to you with a huge smile on his face. he hugs you kissing down your neck.

he’s most likely into physical touch. he’s totally touched starved and is so glad when he is validated. you guys will always be seen together. jacks hands will always have to be on you somehow.

he loves taking naps with you. he loves taking hikes, going to amusement parks, and taking you to interviews. as long as he is spending time with you he’s fine.

he talks about you a lot in interviews. a interviewer could ask him his favorite color and it would end up relating to you.

he is such a golden retriever. he is never afraid to show that he’s in love with you. if you are in a relationship with him you won’t ever feel alone. you definitely won’t feel insecure with him either.

he loves kissing your hands, neck and temple. he really will kiss you anywhere that you let him. he enjoys when you play with his hair when you cuddle. he will get grumpy if you stop.

jacks head lays in between your legs with his head on your stomach. your fingers gently massage through his hair as you scroll through instagram.

as you scroll through instagram a call come through. it was jenna, she was facetiming you when you picked up. “hi!” you smile remove your hand from his head.

“hey y/n! i was wondering if you would like to come over for a bit?”

“yeah, of course i will-” before you can finish jack grabs your phone and hangs up. you laughed smacking him lightly.

he would definitely do face mask, make bracelets and run you bubble baths all the time. will just sit there while you get ready for bed. he definitely has about 100+ bad photos of you getting ready/unready.

when i tell you his whole phone is filled with pictures of you. you could literally be eating a granola bar and he takes a picture.

calls and text you all day long. you could’ve just left his house and he’s already asking you when you’re coming over again. if you didn’t respond in 5 minutes he just keeps texting you until you respond. definitely overthinks it aswell. he will text mason thinking it’s over.

JACK: MASON. y/ns going to break up with me.

MASON: what did she say??

JACK: she didn’t say anything :(

MASON: oh, so its not happening.

he loves when you go to the gym with him. even if you guys are just goofing off the entire time. he definitely loves helping you spot yourself. he definitely loves helping you reach your full potential. he’s always encouraging you to keep going.

every week he gives you a new sweatshirt and takes back the old one. he makes sure they smell exactly like him so you’re comforted. he definitely enjoys when you wear his hoodies in front of other guys.

you guys are usually hanging out with trinity. you just consider her as a sister eventually. both of you are pretty close. all of you have a weekly dinner.

he loves buying you clothing and jewlery. he will walk into a mall and buy you everything possible. he will buy you matching necklaces.

he’s definitely super nosy. if there’s a fight going down in your groupchat he’s always on your side.

“she’s getting on my nerves right now. she always is on alana’s side even when she’s in the wrong,” you groan throwing your head back

“you should definitely drop her girl. she needs get out of here with her woodchuck looking ass,” he jokes staring at your phone to see what she says. you laugh at him, he immediately makes you feel better.

surprisingly he’s a good artist. like not that he can make self portraits but simple landscapes. he definitely convinced you that he can’t paint you. you didn’t tell him but that was one of the worst self portraits of yourself you’ve seen.

#ethan landry #jack champion x reader #jack champion #avatar #atwow imagines #spider socorro #jack champion imagine

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adrienneleclerc · 2 months

Text

OBSESSED

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Hispanic/Latina Plus Size! Reader

Summary: Y/N has been dating Henry Cavill for a few weeks and everything was going fine with their relationship until she found out that his ex is Ana de Armas.

Warning: I think this turned out a little more comical than I wanted to but it was fun to write.

A/N: Obviously his dating history is made up, this is inspired by Obsessed by Olivia Rodrigo (I definitely prefer GUTS over SOUR, its more my vibe, not a stan though) ANYWAY, as a plus sized Latina who struggles with her body image and has tons of insecurities, i will be projecting. Let me know if you want more plus sized Y/Ns in the future

When Y/N was younger, she always had the dream of walking the red carpet like Salma Hayek. Though she wasn’t a singer or an actress, she couldn’t believe her dream is coming true as she walks alongside Henry Cavill, her super handsome actor boyfriend. They met on the set of the ministry of ungentlemanly warfare, Y/N was the guest of Eiza Gonzalez, Henry confused her as one of the wardrobe designers, Y/N explained who she was, and they hit it off. They were invited to the premiere of an action movie. She had on a smoky blue dress with a slit up to the middle of her left thigh and a corset bodice, absolutely beautiful. Henry and Y/N were posing for photos and Henry leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“You look ravishing, darling.” Henry whispered and kissed her temple when he pulled away. After a few more pictures, they entered the area, Henry began to talk to some people he knew and that’s when Y/N bumped into someone.

“Ay que boba soy, im so sorry.” Y/N told the Woman she bumped into but couldn’t see her face.

“No se preocupe, está bien.” The woman said, she turned to face Y/N and Y/N was in shock.

“No way, Ana de Armas de verdad lo siento mucho, no me estaba fijando.” Y/N said,

“Toda está bien, de verdad, me encanta su vestido.” Ana said, gesturing to Y/N’s dress. The twos were talking until…

“Ready to go in, love?” Henry said, putting his arm around Y/N. “Ana, how are you?” Henry asked the Cuban woman.

“Henry, I didn’t know you came with someone, she’s stunning. It was nice seeing you again, guapo, un placer conocerla, querida.” Ana said goodbye with a kiss on the cheek as she went inside. Henry and Y/N stayed back.

“How do you two know each other? I don’t think you guys made a movie together, right?” Y/N asked, curious how the British man knew the Cuban actress.

“Well, love, um, Ana and I dated…for a while.” Henry said. Y/N’s eyes widened.

“What?” Y/N questioned. So many questions were going through her head. Why did they break up? Was it jealousy? Is that why Henry chose her to date? He wouldn’t get jealous dating Y/N because no one else would want to date the fat girl? Henry’s voice pulled her away from her thoughts.

“Let’s go in and watch the movie, yeah?” Henry asked, leading Y/N in the theater to watch the movie but Y/N couldn’t pay attention. She couldn’t help but compare herself to Ana de Armas, like Ana was basically perfect! Ana’s hair looks so healthy, her amber eyes were just beautiful, her skin was flawless, and then there’s her, her hair is frizzy no matter how she styles it (wavy hair problems), there’s nothing special about her eyes, and no amount of makeup or skincare would give her that airbrushed look. Why is Henry going out with Y/N? That is what she keeps asking herself.

When the movie was over, Henry and Y/N went back to his house to unwind.

“You staying the night, darling?” Henry asked, hanging up his coat.

“Yeah, Fortachón, I’m staying.” Y/N said, sitting on his couch. “I didn’t know you dated Ana.”

“Yeah, it was a long time ago.” Henry said.

“If you guys never had any movies together, how did you meet?” Y/N asked. She was curious about his past relationship.

“My love, I don’t think we should be talking about this.” Henry commented.

“Fine, I’ll drop it.” Y/N said.

“Good.” Henry said. “Now let’s get you out of this dress because I’m tempted to see what’s underneath.” Henry grinned.

And he did just that. However, when Henry was asleep, Y/N was wide awake, looking at Ana’s instagram. She is so perfect! Not too short, not too tall, Ana had an hourglass figure unlike herself. Did Ana slept in the same bed as Henry, same side as Y/N, she bet Ana had those sexy silk pajamas unlike her, opting for her Macy’s pajamas set. She googled Henry and Ana together and their size difference was PERFECT, Henry and Ana looked like Hercules and Meg, Y/N, however, saw herself as Merryweather from Sleeping Beauty.

“Why do I do this to myself?” Y/N mumbled, her hands covering her face. She decided to watch Overdrive, which is one of Ana de Armas’s movie and she was gorgeous, but Ana was definitely prettier in person. Y/N fell asleep watching one of her interviews on YouTube, turns out Ana and Henry are the same sign.

Henry woke up and found Y/N already awake, stalking Ana’s Instagram.

“Darling, what are you doing?” Henry asked,

“Nothing.” Y/N said, quickly exiting out of the app.

“That didn’t look like nothing, why are you looking at pictures of Ana?” Henry asked, sitting up in the bed.

“I’m just curious. How long have you two dated?” Y/N asked. Henry rolled his eyes.

“I thought you dropped it.” Henry said.

“And I’m picking it up again, how long have you two dated?” Y/N asked.

“4 years, I met her when I was filming ‘A man from UNCLE’ in Italy.” Henry told Y/N, knowing what her next question would be.

“Why did you two break up?” Y/N asked.

“I guess we just grew apart.” Henry commented and Y/N looked at him.

“Why did you grow apart?” Y/N asked.

“Oh my god, angel, leave it alone, please, I have never seen you act this way, you know I’ve had previous relationships, why is this one different?” Henry asked

“Because it’s Ana de Armas! You went from Ana de Armas to me, do you understand how mind boggling that is?” Y/N gets up from their bed. “She’s an 11 and I’m a 4, and that’s on a good day, Fortachón. I know you love me and clearly looks don’t matter to you,” Y/N said gesturing to herself. “But I can’t help but think about you and Ana. What about your other exes? Are they actresses too? Or are they models? Singers?“

“You think I don’t wonder about your exes too?” Henry gets up as well. “Of course I think about them! But I don’t obsess over them like your obsessing over Ana right.” Henry said.

“You wanna know why? Because you don’t know who they are! You never met them, I never really told you about them, so you could imagine them however you want! You are a public figure so your previous relationships are all on Google.” Y/N said and goes downstairs to the kitchen, Henry following quickly behind her.

“Y/N, i love YOU, i am with you, Ana and I haven’t talked in years, we only make small talk if we see each other at award shows or premieres. You are so beautiful and I love you because you make me feel safe, happy, and at home.” Henry said, looking at Y/N in her eyes.

“I love you too, Fortachón, but I still have some questions. Did she give great head? Like I know I’m not the best at it, I’ve been told before, but…” Y/N started but Henry kissed her, after a while he pulled away.

“You’re better…wait, who said you weren’t good?” Henry questioned.

“Not the point..” Y/N said but was interrupted by Henry.

“No no, you obsessed over Ana, now it my turn to talk about your ex, what did he do?” Henry asked with his arms folded in front of his chest.

“Mm, He’s a hockey player, his name is James Oleksiak.” Y/N said. She went to the fridge to look for what to make for breakfast. “How do you feel about pancakes?” Y/N asked. Henry googled him and his eyes widened.

“James Oleksiak? HE IS 6’7!” Henry exclaimed.

“Yeah, i was a hockey WAG, good times.” Y/N said. “If it makes you feel better, I dated Lewis Hamilton for a while too, he’s 5’9 so you’re good.”

“You’re doing this on purpose now.” Henry said, also looking up pictures of Lewis Hamilton. “Okay, now I know how you feel.”

“I guess we’re both obsessed with each other’s exes. Can we stop doing that? That was actually exhausting.” Y/N said.

“Yeah, as far as we know, we only date each other.” Henry said, kissing Y/N. “How big was James?”

“I am not answering that.” Y/N said, laughing at Henry’s question.

“Why not? I answered your question about Ana.” Henry tried to convince Y/N. “Wait, did James say you weren’t that good or was it Lewis?”

“I’m good, I just can’t deep throat.” Y/N said and Henry thought for a second.

“It was James, wasn’t it?” Henry asked.

“Oh my god, stop, help me make pancakes.” Y/N said

The end

Because of the poll results, I am trying to write more Henry Cavill x Reader, I’ll still write about Walter and Mike, just not as often. ALSO, Henry Cavill’s nickname going forward is “Fortachón”, I can’t BELIEVE I forgot that in Hercules, his nickname in the Spanish Latino dub is fortachón, and since I had the idea to make Henry dress up as Hercules in a fanfic @shellyshellshell wrote, Fortachón is PERFECT! I was going through a crisis trying to figure out a good nickname for Henry, like damn.

Face Reveal

#hispanic reader #latina #hispanic #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill #henry cavil x y/n #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fanfiction

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oopsimbug · 6 months

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in which… y/n is stubborn, and harry is still an asshole

a.k.a. regency harry pt. 2

a/n: gah… i literally dont know what to say… how about: oh my god i am so sorry for taking so long! school, two jobs, a lack of inspiration and literally hating my own writing made sure i was unable to post for an entire YEAR AND FIVE MONTHS!!!! i DEEPLY apologise. i hope this is alright? let me know what you think! and yes, there WILL be a third part, hopefully out before the earth is enveloped by the sun?

pairing: regency era! harry styles x reader, enemies to lovers

summary: again, think little women, but with you instead of jo and harry instead of laurie… but harry is an asshole… a RELENTLESS asshole

warnings: harry is still a GIANT ass, all enemies no lovers, lots of really mean things said to each other, they literally truly hate one another like i have my work cut out for me trying to redeem this couple :’)

word count: 10.8k (smaller than my first chapter, but god did i struggle getting over the 9k mark… i literally hate myself)

read part one here!!

Money…

It was what made the world spin around.

Unfortunately, the L/ns did not have as much of it as they used to.

This was why, when their mother needed money to visit their father, who fell very ill, Y/n set out to find a job.

Replacing her mother at her job in the nurse's office wasn’t going to work- she was horrible with sitting still for too long. Besides, her hands were far too shaky to hold silly little fiddly needles. No, there was no chance she would do that.

She could try to get a job at a shop- a bakery possibly? But no, she had little patience for old people, who were always either very interesting and passionate, which she loved, or very snooty and cold, which she despised with every cell of her being- and unfortunately, the majority of customers were the elderly, who shopped when they had nothing else to do during the day, and they were predominantly of the latter kind.

Y/n was positively puzzled- stupendously stumped and magnificently muddled. She knew she was talented, but what job would she fulfill that would be of use and make a substantial pay? She pondered that all morning as she completed her chores- tending to the animals and picking up more wood. Once inside, she stoked the fire, made two cups of tea and sat at the dining table.

“Saf!” she called to her sister upstairs. “Bring your packet and come to the table- it’s 9:30!”

At the age of 13, girls were forced to graduate school. Ma and Y/n, who didn’t believe this was enough of an education, devised a plan- once graduated, the L/n girls would do tutoring sessions with Y/n, who was passionate and proficient in all areas of English, which was what the girls would require the most to function in the world. She would also help with arithmetic- though it was not her strong point, she was confident in the skills they would probably need. Safia was under the tutoring of Y/n, as would Ula the next year.

As she waited for the pitter-patter of Saf’s feet down the stairs, she thought to herself. Unfortunately, all natural thoughts seemed to lead in the same direction lately- all pertaining to a certain tall and lanky individual with brown hair. She was not moping, that was for sure- Y/n did not mope. She was not even upset about him choosing a different woman over her- that was a fleeting insecure thought held only in the heat of the moment that night. No, she was mad. Furious, in fact. How dare he- how dare he?! He strung her along, purposefully got her hopes up for the mere sake of making fun of her- he embarrassed her and then had the utter gall to smirk and wink about it afterwards! Y/n always had a temper, but this was anger on a whole different level. This was searing, hot, burning, blood-red vexation. Her hands began to ball into fists- she wanted to hit something, break something, hurt him and only him.

However, before she could fantasise about all the ways she would cause him pain, she felt a soft arm on her shoulder. She must’ve been caught in a trance, unable to hear her sister come down the stairs and call her name once she reached the bottom and found Y/n unresponsive, as Safia’s face held deep concern, eyebrows knit together as she repeated her question.

“Are you okay, Y/n?” her tentative and soft voice carefully asked, placing a hand on her forehead to check her temperature, ever the sweetheart. “You’re not feeling ill, are you? I know Liz was rid of her sickness a few weeks ago, but it may have lingered around the house.”

She smiled up at her younger sister, who moved her hand to feel her cheek, after finding no suspiciously hot temperature on her forehead. She shook her head and let out a small laugh, all of the rage for him leaving her thoughts.

“I’m okay Saf… just thinking…” she replied honestly. She was just thinking… thinking of how she would pelt that damned boy with logs of firewood. Or maybe she should let Flynn at him- she had already told the Clydesdale of what had happened. Maybe he could stomp him down till he quivered and shook with fear, begging both of them for forgiv-

“Thinking about what?” Her sister’s voice pulled her out of her reverie once again.

Y/n looked up at her face, smiled brightly, pulled out the adjacent chair and patted it lovingly, before replying with a jolly tone.

“Nothing that you should worry about… Now, are you ready to venture into the world of Hedda Gabler?”

Her sister smiled sweetly before sitting down, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Of course I am!”

“Great! Because today, we are going to be analysing gender and how it influences power within our passage!” Y/n was always so excited to teach her about the books, poems and plays that she liked- there was no way she would teach her sister boring and dull theory, or pieces that only reflected a man’s perspective. No, she had an opportunity to open her sister’s mind and hopefully make a lasting impact on it- one that encouraged her to pursue her dreams without needing the opinion or permission from a man. And she wasn’t going to waste it.

“Now, open to our bookmarked page, and let’s begin…”

*****

After finishing classes, Y/n got dressed and ran out the door before her sisters could follow her, unable to take all of them to the village on Flynn, and not wanting to upset anyone. She buckled the saddle into place and hopped on before riding the path all the way to town. After tying Flynn up with hay and water, she straightened out her dress and apron and began walking, dodging men who gave her glances of annoyance for her slightly messy loose hair, mussed on the fast journey on the Clydesdale. She had bigger things to worry about, despite what Liz would say…

She was picking up some lemons from the market, which Ula insisted on getting, convinced that they were necessary to her social status in her school, where pickled lemons were the talk of the town. While the need for lemons didn’t sound dire to Y/n, Liz benevolently gifted her extra loose change, justifying it with something about “knowing what it was like to not fit with others at school”. And while Y/n didn’t believe money like five whole dollars should go to waste on lemons, she still searched the shelves intently, looking for some that weren’t too costly. While leaning forward, she walked through an aisle, scouring the lowest shelf for them, unaware of the person she was about to bump into. Curse her clumsiness!

She walked right into the unsuspecting person before standing to full height, apologies spilling out of her rapidly as she helped the older lady regain balance. Y/n had never seen her before- an older woman, around her own mother’s age, with brown hair that was greying from the roots and forest green eyes that twinkled, reminding her all too much of a certain boy, but she pushed those thoughts away. She also looked of money, with her elegant dress, shoes and shiny jewels.

Y/n began spilling out apologies as it was her own fault for the collision, and the kind lady forgave her each time with a “That’s all right, my dear”, with calming energy radiating from her. Once the two women had settled they let out breathy chuckles at the incident. Beginning to move back to her search for cheap citrus was halted, however, when Y/n noticed the woman seemingly struggling to find what she was looking for. Y/n observed covertly as the lady would gingerly pick up a bottle of what looked to be cologne, look at the label for a few seconds, squint as if to make out what it was saying, before putting it back nervously and repeating with the next.

Y/n noted that when she would “read”, her eyes didn’t stop to comprehend the words. She needed help, and Y/n was not one to shy away from that fact.

“Hello,” Y/n began.

The lady smiled sweetly as she replied, her green eyes twinkling with curiosity.

“Hello, love.” she gently replied.

Y/n wanted to help without seeming patronising, so she was careful with her words. “So, what brings you here, Ma’am?”

She looks around, then down at the glass bottle in her hand before looking back at Y/n. She fumbles and hesitates as she answers.

“Oh- well- I am looking for this shoe polish, but… I seem to be having a bit of trouble…”. She went beet red before she whispered in a meek and quiet squeak only fairies could hear. Fairies or those who had experience with shy sweethearts as Y/n had with her Saf.

“You-“ she slightly huffed a bitter laugh through her nose. “You probably can already tell, but… I can’t read…” she confessed, thoroughly embarrassed.

If Y/n wanted to help the woman before, her holding cologne that would most certainly tarnish leather while shopping for shoe polish convinced her utterly and completely. She did not hesitate- not even for a beat, determined to show that there was nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing at all!

“I can help you! I never use shoe polish- my shoes are always getting muddy anyways, and it would only be a pain to scrub them for nothing, so I don’t have any suggestions in mind, but if you have an idea of the type of polish you wanted, I could help you out!” She dropped personal anecdotes into the conversation, as she often did when conversing with strangers, finding it easier to comfort others to relax around her when they knew she was an open book.

“Oh thank you, my darling! I am looking for a dark brown and black coloured polish that would work best for making leather loafers shiny.”

And with that, Y/n began her search, starting with going to the correct section, before beginning to scan the tiers of the shelves carefully, looking for what the lady wanted. The woman followed her and began a friendly conversation with her as she searched.

“My nephew needs new polish for his shoes. I would have told him to do it himself, but he’s out of town, you see. Went out of town, about a week’s trip away. I couldn’t send my maid either- I wished for her to take some time off while there were less people in the house, you see. So here I arrived, figuring I could just find it myself. Ah, how foolish.” She then sighed once more after simmering in laughter for a bit, looking wistfully at another tin she could not decipher the contents of.

Y/n found the two tins of shoe polish, holding them out to her while responding firmly. “Ma’am, you are not foolish at all. At least you tried! And look, here you are helping your nephew who’s out of town, after letting your helpers take a break! That’s not foolish, that’s compassionate,”.

The lady smiled warmly, the wrinkles next to her eyes crinkling and creasing beautifully as she did. “Oh, darling, you are very sweet for using your gift to help those who cannot. Thank you!” She lightly squeezed Y/n’s cheek playfully before walking to the counter, Y/n following after her before placing the tins on the table for the cashier to process.

“You are very welcome Ma’am.” The lady began to pull open the small embroidered coin purse she had in her slightly wrinkled yet sturdy hands, fishing for a coin before dropping it into Y/n’s palm and winking.

Y/n’s eyes went wide as she attempted to hand the coin back.

“Ma’am, I couldn’t possibly. I was just trying to be of service, truly. Please take your money.”

But the woman was not having a lick of it. Her face grew stern, her eyes fiery as she quickly snapped back. “Don’t you dare try to give that back, it’s yours!”

Y/n reluctantly smiled and nodded gratefully before walking back to the shelves to continue her search for lemons as the gentle tinkle of the doorbell indicated the sweet lady’s exit. She could not stop thinking about her, however. Why was it that men were taught to read and write and build and farm, but women were only taught how to be good mothers and wives? That woman could learn to read- anyone could, really. All she needed was a teacher…

Suddenly, Y/n had an idea. One that caused her to drop everything she was doing and run out the door to look for the woman. Teaching! Y/n could teach the woman and in return, get a bit of money! After looking around, she found her walking down the cobbled street, seconds from entering a very expensive and fancy carriage.

“WAIT MA’AM!” Y/n cried, weaving past the people and carts on the busy street as she ran to her. The lady’s ears perked and she looked back, locked eyes with Y/n and froze with concern, allowing the younger girl to catch up.

“Yes, my dear?” She asked, once Y/n had caught up and was attempting to catch her breath. After a few deep, embarrassingly wheezy breaths, Y/n finally calmed herself down enough to respond.

“Icouldteachyou-”, she said exasperated all in one sentence before punctuating it with a heaving breath. After taking a lungful or two of air, she clarified to the poor confused woman.

“Ma’am, I could teach you how to read! If you would like!”

The woman’s eyes opened wider in astonishment before her face brightened with a radiant smile. “You would teach me?” She asked, almost flabbergasted.

“Yes, of course!” Y/n responds, enthusiastically. “I am currently teaching my sisters how to read, so I know how to do it! I could help you too if you would like!”

The woman’s warm and grateful smile shone brighter than the sun. And Y/n’s heart stuttered with excitement when she asked to exchange addresses for further communication.

This was it… she was finally going to help her family.

******

It was four days later when the L/n residence received two letters, both with express stamps on them, signaling their importance. One was a letter from their father, which the girls were keen to read immediately, but waited for their mother to come home so they could unveil it together. The other, however, was mysteriously addressed to and only to Y/n. How peculiar!

“Y/n you must open it in front of us- what if it is a secret admirer hoping to eagerly profess their love to you!” Ula whined. Liz shook her head and looked at the youngest girl.

“If Y/n wants to keep this to herself, she exercises her right to do so”. Liz’ eyes drift to Y/n’s slowly as she continues. “…However…”, before finally running and springing onto her. “You MUST tell us if it is!”

Y/n rolled her eyes at her sisters, despite Liz’s best attempts to put an end to the “unladylike” and “brash” behaviour. “Come on, there is no way it will be a boy… have you ever even seen me with one? I would run circles around them in every sense before their tiny minds could even get a singular word out!”

Y/n, though thoroughly believing in her statement that yes, she probably could outshine any boy in the town, also- in the back of her mind- registered that yes, maybe she was overcompensating and exaggerating just the smallest bit in order to shield her heart, still sore from the events of Tilly Hughes’ ball and that wicked boy. Her sisters chuckled at her musing as she made herself comfortable on the sofa chair next to the fire, all three of her sisters huddling behind her in order to get a good view of the elegantly folded and wax-sealed letter that Y/n began to tear open. Once the pristine paper was unfolded, she stood up and began to pace as she read- her sisters giggling and breathing over her shoulder was doing no good, and she needed to focus. It read:

Before Y/n could process the words written on the paper, Liz narrated the letter to Saf and Ula- the latter began to squeal mercilessly, while Liz grinned from ear to ear, pores radiating with pride for her sister.

*******

The house was astonishing. It was grand, it was elegant, it was pristine.

Above all, it was capital!

The trek down the natural and lush path of trees and fields was all a ruse- Y/n knew Ms Ophelia was a rich woman, but she but any preconceived notion of what her house may look like while trekking the trail was completely, utterly, jaw droppingly decimated. Once reaching the end of the driveway (walking ever so slowly to take the majesty in), Y/n and Flynn were met with pristine hedges that bordered the entire property. Two large white marble columns with oil lamps attached signaled the beginning of the courtyard. In between them, was a large opening where Y/n could see the greenest grass she had ever witnessed, a center hedge path, and behind it, Ms Ophelia’s grand home. Y/n’s mouth was hung open as she approached the large, stark white building, with its covered entrance, wide expanse and huge windows.

It was a stretch for it to even be called a house. It was a mansion- a manor. Y/n resolved that there must be a plethora of family members that justified the sheer volume of space there was to occupy. She stepped off of Flynn, held the end of his reign, and walked through the grassy courtyard and to the front door. She would have taken Flynn to the stables, not wanting her first introduction to her well-paying student to be interrupted by the attention-hungry Clydesdale, however, the house was so grand she could not even begin to wonder where the hell the stables could be. Instead, she smoothed the light wrinkles out of the frock that Ula picked for her, slightly disgruntled when remembered the lack of a waistcoat she had on. She attempted to fix and flattened the now slightly frizzy hair that Liz had spent almost an entire hour to style, mussed a tad due to the breeze created while riding Flynn, before taking a deep breath in... and rang the doorbell.

She heard some muffled clattering, before hurried footsteps approached, growing louder and louder before they reached the mahogany door, pulled open to reveal a positively ecstatic Ms Ophelia- her brown hair pulled back with a hair pin, but similar in frizziness to Y/n. Her eyes squinting with her warm closed lip smile, the green irises truly dazzling with excitement. She was dressed in a simple yet elegant green and white silk dress, her chest adorned with a single thin gold necklace threaded through a small locket.

"Y/n!!! So nice to see you!” The lady took Y/n and Flynn in with a charming smile, cooing at the latter before stepping forward to give the Clydesdale a stroke down his white blaze and a scratch on his chin, causing him to preen, closing his eyes a soft huff of pleasure. She then looked to Y/n. “Please, my farmhand Thomas will take this handsome boy to the stables out back."

She looked past Y/n to the front garden and called to the man Y/n hadn't noticed had been planting flowers. He had shiny blonde hair, short from the sides while the top was long and messy, slightly damp with sweat. He pushed the golden mess out of his face and smoothed it back, revealing a bit of dirt on the sun-kissed skin of his forehead. Descending down, there were thick eyebrows, hazel brown eyes squinting in the glare of the sun, a strong nose, and full lips that were pursed and curved into a sweet and friendly smile. He stood, brushed himself off, approached Y/n, and wordlessly took Flynn with a charming smile, nodding to her before walking around to the side of the house. After losing sight of him, Y/n looked back to Ms Ophelia, who opened the door and gestured Y/n in.

"Please do come in!" As Y/n stepped through the threshold of the house, Ms Ophelia continued.

"I was just about to make myself a cup of tea- I warmed up enough water for the both of us. How do you take it?" The older woman began walking, Y/n trailing behind her as they entered the beautiful eggshell white kitchen with purple accents.

"Oh, well if it isn't a bother, I take one sugar and only a bit of milk" Y/n watched as the woman poured the boiling tea into the two mugs.

"Huh!" Ms O looked at Y/n funny, before looking down at the cups she was working on. "Me too! Just enough milk to make it a very dark brown?"

Y/n’s eyes begin to light up incredulously. "Yeah! That's right! My sisters all think that I never put enough in!"

"My nephew does too!"

The women looked at each other and smiled- they both knew there was some sort of connection that brought the two of them together, and that they would be kindred spirits.

*******

The lesson went swimmingly, as agreed by both Y/n and Ms Ophelia (sorry- just Ophelia, the older woman had been very adamant about that). They had sat and begun with the alphabet, and while Ophelia was quite bashful when Y/n corrected her, they knew that with time, they would become more comfortable. Eventually, despite her consistent imploring that she stay for dinner, Y/n insisted she must go home.

"But my nephew will be home soon! He is such a charming, well articulated boy! Loves reading and the such- You two would get along so delightfully!" She clapped her hands eagerly at the thought, however, Y/n, softly stroking a saddled Flynn- thanks to Thomas, who wordlessly passed her the reins before walking off- looked at her new student and friend with a soft smile.

"I'm sure anyone who grew up around you would be a wonderful friend, Ophelia, however I really must get home. My family will be expecting me soon."

Once goodbyes had been exchanged, they agreed to meet once again in a few days. And with that, Y/n mounted Flynn and began to ride the now dusky ride home. She may have dawdled a little- the sun was still so warm, and the breeze was beautiful. Flynn moved at a comfy pace as she appreciated the beauty of the world around her.

However, that beauty was soon not in her focus when Y/n noticed someone riding towards her in the distance. She continued her pace, and as the figure approached, ready to return a polite nod if they were to greet her. As the figure continued on further, she squinted and began to make out a mop of brown hair, and a black blob of a coat, before all too quickly she recognised those sharp green eyes and the nose and those stupidly plush lips as he trotted closer and closer and god- oh no…

Y/n began to feel her stomach drop.

"Well well well! Look who it is!" That snide voice, that blasted smirk that taunted her.

It was her arch nemesis.

His horse slowed down while she did nothing to stop Flynn, walking completely past him without even acknowledging him- her eyes forward and steely. She thought she had escaped him but she heard footsteps coming closer, however, and soon, Y/n was walking side by side with none other than Harry Styles.

"What's with the cold shoulder, sweetheart? Have I done something to upset you?" He taunted in a teasing tone.

"I am not your sweetheart, and don't you have a party to crash, loverboy?" She rolled her eyes and kept moving forward, him keeping an identical pace beside her.

"Ooft, take it easy darling, you’re going to hurt my. Large. Throbbing. Swollen. Red. Hot. Heart!" He punctuated each word with a beat, and Y/n's face became hot; she began to scrunch the sweaty leather reigns harder into her palms at the obvious innuendo. Harry saw this and grinned wickedly for getting to her, a malicious giggle even seeping out of him- he enjoyed this. He enjoyed relishing in her awkwardness. Once his giggles calmed, he shook his head and continued. "What are you doing out so late anyways? Meeting up with a secret lover?"

Y/n couldn't even dignify that with a response, and merely scoffed and rolled her eyes again at the preposterous accusation. He noticed and continued.

"Hey, you scoff at that now, but who knows. It seems to be the quiet, pure ones that surprise me the most. The most proper girls always turn out to be the dirtiest. So, no- I don't think it's out of this world for a little thing like you to be getting your hands or mouth sullen for a bit of pleasure. Did you see the way you trembled for me the night we met? And the way you cried when I was paying attention to that little French girl? Don't lie, you were charmed, and seeing me with someone else broke your fragile. Little. Heart."

He was unbelievable for bringing that up again… Y/n felt her rage boiling now. She responded bitterly and slowly. "Please, you are so full of yourself…. And of course you would know all about women and their sexuality, now wouldn't you"

"Hard to scorn someone for being likeable, isn't it, Grumpy?"

Y/n had to stop her horse fully and glare at the idiot. She looked deep into his eyes, calmed down and began to smile. She was in complete and utter disbelief. She shook her head and giggled a peal of bitter laughter. Harry’s face darkened in irritation.

“What’s so funny, huh?”

Y/n’s smile didn’t reach her eyes as her giggles quelled. "It's funny that you think you are likable, Harry. You see, there is a difference between being desirable, and being easy. And it’s only the thoughtless ones like you who seem to be incapable at telling the difference. Not a thought behind those eyes, is there?... I wouldn't be surprised if you'd thought with your cock so much that your brain had atrophied due to the lack of use. You're not likeable, Harry Styles... you're just a plaything for widows and repressed virgins who wish to piss off their fathers to use and discard. And I cannot help but feel sorry for you for being the only one who cannot see that."

If she was not mistaken, Y/n believed she saw a bit of surprise and possibly even hurt in his eyes before they hardened, their playfulness completely drained. She did not think she was going to say that at all, and in any other situation, she would have thought that to be such a mean thing to say... But she had been sitting on that for far too long, and he had pushed her over with the teasing and the cockiness. She had had enough. Harry Styles needed to be brought down a peg or two.

They stared each other down fiercely, neither wanting to stand down. Then, he quickly shot at her. "You are nothing but a poor virgin with a gabby mouth that you wish was stuffed with my cock." he spat with nothing but poisoned malice.

Ouch… He was trying to catch her off guard, an attempt to garner some pride back, and while it immediately hurt Y/n, the wound of embarrassment growing in her heart, she knew she could not let him win. She quickly locked and loaded, before pulling the trigger without thinking.

"And you are nothing but a dirty harlot who wastes his privilege of manhood on being a tart to women who don't even want him." she spat back at him.

Targets acquired and shots fired, the two needed to go home and lick their wounds, crudely bandage their bullet holes and hope the sharp pain of the words spoken were only a temporary detriment to their own health, but an everlasting hellscape to each other. Both wanted to see the other in pain. Both wanted to win.

So with that, Harry made a big show about rearing his ashy grey horse up and around, before both of them spurred their horses forward into a gallop and away from the other- both carrying furrowed eyebrows, slightly hurt feelings (that they would never admit to), and a newfound degree of ire for each other…

He won’t get away with this.

********

Once tacking up Flynn, Y/n stomped her way to the house, still unbelievably enraged by the verbal warfare engaged with that brunette ass. She knew she wanted some alone time to calm down, but once entering her cosy home, she was bombarded with questions from her sisters- mainly Ula.

“Was the house big?!”

“What kind of dress was Ophelia wearing?!”

“How many servants did she have?!”

“Did she have lots of paintings on the walls?!”

“Any handsome sons?!”

“Did she tell you if she’s been to any exotic places like France or Switzerland?!”

“How was your day, Y/n?”

The last question was asked, of course, by her angelic sister Safia. Y/n lovingly rolled her eyes at the incessant questions from Ula and answered Saf’s tenderly. “My day was alright Saf, thank you for asking.”

“That’s good- I wished hard on all the dandelions I could find outside that you would come home safe and sound.” Y/n’s heart melted- she walked over to the younger girl and kissed her forehead with so much love and passion.

Ula observed the tenderness of the exchange and rolled her eyes. “Safia is perfect”, she taunted with a roll of her eyes before returning to her previous exercise of pulling up on the septum of her apparently “hideous” small aquiline nose to shape it into a more button nose, which she believed to be more elegant. Y/n looked back at Saf and whispered lovingly in her ear.

“Never stop wishing for the people you love the most, okay Saf?” Y/n gave her one more kiss before moving to the youngest sister with the most spunk besides Y/n herself. She gently swatted her hand away from her nose before lovingly stroking the bridge as she pulled Ula in for a hug from behind.

“And you, little missy! Stop trifling with the features your parents so lovingly passed to you. That nose isn’t a curse, it’s a gift. Treat it as one.” She kissed Ula’s head too before heading further into the house to greet her older sister and her mother. But as they had dinner, Y/n could not stop thinking about how much she hated Harry… little did she know, however, that her older sister Liz observed her suspiciously throughout the night.

Once in their room, hair and teeth brushed, dressed in their respective pyjamas- Liz’s a dainty white nightgown akin to the one Harry so scandalously described, and Y/n’s a mismatched patchwork buttoned set that Ma had made out of Y/n’s old clothes that she was too big to fit into, yet could bear to part with. Tucked into their beds, Liz turned to face Y/n and began.

“If Ms Ophelia was so very nice, what is the problem?”

Y/n turned to face her with furrowed brows. “What problem? There is no problem”

Liz rolled her eyes and shot back. “Yeah yeah, I don’t believe that for a second, Y/n. You can fool Ula- which isn’t saying much, but you can't fool me, so why don't we pretend like I tirelessly needled it out of you and you skip to the bit where you tell me what’s wrong”

Y/n sighed a long, hard, tired and frustrated sigh, before ultimately giving in. “I ran into a sworn enemy on the ride back home today…”

Liz shot up, eyes wide and mouth agape.“Who?!?”

“Harry Styles.”

Elizabeth stared incredulously at her sister, propped her pillows so she was sitting up, and began needling Y/n for more information. “What did he say? What did he do? Why is he your enemy?”

Y/n sighed. There was no way she was going to get to sleep until she told Liz everything. So she began…“You know of his reputation, yes?”

Y/n’s older sister gasped again. “Y/n… don’t tell me… he… with you?”

Y/n immediately understood what she was insinuating. “NO! No way! Never! Not in a million years! You know I hate everything to do with boys. I cannot believe you would think that of me!”

Liz sighed and sunk into herself in relief. “Thank god! I didn’t think you would but… unfortunately his reputation is quite… damning to say the least. Why, it was only last week he was with Amelie… did you see the way he returned her to the group? He didn’t even bother to wipe her lipstick from his lips! What a brute!”

Y/n brought her blanket up even closer to her face until only her eyes were visible, and mumbled her confession. “I know… I told him exactly so today…”

The older sister slowly started at her, tone changing completely to one low and testing. “What...That he is a brute?”

“Yes of course!” Y/n immediately shot back, exasperated.

Her sister stared at her with her mouth agape and eyebrows intensely furrowed. “...WHY?! Haven’t you heard of his family?!?” At Y/n’s confused face and shaking head, Liz took a deep breath and began. His father lives all the way in New York… Ma told me it was because he was absolutely dreadful to his wife and Harry all the time. Kept money from them, abused them, hit them- so much so that eventually they had to run away from him when he was only 10. They fled to a safe place- some cottage in the middle of nowhere? But get this- once there, his mother contracted scarlet fever and passed away. He had to walk all by himself to the nearest village to call for help- by the time medical assistance arrived, his mother was long gone. And with no other relatives bar his wicked father, he was left in the care of his devilishly deviant, yet disgustingly rich aunt.”

Y/n went completely silent. She didn’t know any of this… Of course this was deeply traumatic and saddening- but Y/n could not help it- her stubbornness was a curse, not a gift. And the curse would not allow even a tale so sorrowful allow Harry a free pass.

“Liz- of course this is deeply tragic and traumatic- however, circumstances can only explain actions. They don’t justify them. What has happened to Harry should mean that he spends his time helping women, not putting them down… which, I guess he does by pleasuring them, but God I wish he wasn’t so smug and pompous about it… He was so- well, not nice, but normal and cheeky and charming, when we first met- it was like a switch flicked in his head and that man no longer exists”

“Of course- if he is as cruel as you say, I 100% agree. Although he has a right to hold trauma, it does not change the fact that he is but a wicked man”

The girls sit in silence for a second, contemplating. Then, ever the know it all, Liz jumped right back into her Styles Family History Lesson, giving Y/n the run down.

“But anyways, his aunt is apparently a very influential figure! She’s rich beyond belief, and could probably control this entire town with the pulling of some strings and some money, which she most definitely has! Do not fool around with them, Y/n… especially not Harry…” Elizabeth brought her hands up to her temples to sate her sudden headache, a frequent occurrence when having to feel stressed for Y/n whenever she inevitably threw herself into apparently unacceptable situations, such as whistling in public or not wearing gloves, and had no apparent regard for the consequences.

“What am I to do then?! He is my sworn enemy- if I see him in my general vicinity, my whole body and soul tells me to rip him to shreds! How am I supposed to see him at balls, and on random walks back home, and NOT rip my hair out of my head?!” Y/n complained with a whiny tone.

“Avoid him! Completely and utterly avoid him”

Y/n harrumphed. “...Fine…”

“Good idea- I know… plus… you know what they say.” A lilt of cheekiness entered the previously stern tone.

“What?”

A wide smile grew on Y/n’s older sister’s face, unable to hide her amusement. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Who knows- maybe he just fancies you? You know… like likes you”

Y/n immediately threw a spare pillow at her sister’s head and groaned, before burying her hot face under the covers, completely and utterly embarrassed. Elizabeth dodged the stray pillow as she laughed raucously at how annoyed her sister became.

Y/n shook her head vehemently. “Never in a million years, Liz…”

Never in a million years…

*********

“Make sure you avoid making the “Z” look like the number “three”. Remember, small angled curl, then draaaaaag down to make a bigger and longer angled curl. Other than that, Ophelia, I must inform you that unfortunately my work may as well be over… because these have to be some of the best cursive letters I have ever seen- I know that I have only ever taught my younger sisters, but I am nothing short of confident that you are the fastest learner I have ever had, ever!”

Ophelia put her hand up to her chest and let out an exasperated breathy laugh that combined a giggle and a sigh of relief. “Stop it Y/n… you nearly gave me a heart attack! Anyways, it’s not that great.” She emphatically waved her hand as if to physically shoo the thought away. “I believe that as long as I am able to write and read, who cares about the blasted handwriting. As long as it is- at the very least- legible, I don't mind a thing.”

Y/n could not emphasise this enough: she loved Ophelia. She was sweet, funny, sarcastic, naughty and brash enough to understand all of Y/n’s jokes as simply that- jokes with no malice. Y/n admired her face thoroughly in amazed silence. Ophelia glanced at her and continued. “Now, would you like a cup of tea before you go?”

Y/n was shaken out of her trance and began to pack up her books as she responded. “No, thank you. I'm okay- I really should get going though. The wind is picking up and as much as I would love to stay and chat, I don’t really think being cold and wet is how my mother wants me to return home!”

Y/n bids Ophelia farewell from inside the house before going out back to meet Flynn at the stables. However, she sees another figure tending to him, and as she arrives closer, she notices not Thomas’ blonde messy hair- but instead a soft brown colour.

Jesus Christ, this guy will just not leave her alone, will he?!

Y/n is about three feet away when the figure finally turns, and she is once again met with the cheeky smirk of Mr Harlot Styles. He looks her up and down carefully, making her insides all squirmy under his inspection- she hated the way he made her feel so uncomfortable in her own skin. Once finding her eyes, he began.

“Grumpy…”

“Harlot… Leave Flynn alone. He doesn’t like jaded asses.” Y/n crossed her hands over her chest and stood with a cold hard stare.

“Flynn? Pretty name.” Harry looked at Flynn and continued. “Does the angry little lady dump her frivolous complaints and girly problems onto your poor back, my friend?” Harry looked back to Y/n and continued. “ And hey, he might hate jaded asses, but apparently, he loves temper tantrum-throwing toddlers if he’s your horse.”

If she didn’t know how horrible of a person he was, she would classify the way he was scratching Flynn’s chin as lovingly- but Harry wasn’t loving, and he certainly wasn’t capable of loving. He was a beast. Just another man who thought Y/n spent her hours with her equine companion complaining as if juvenile… and what the hell are “girly problems”?!

Harry chimed in again, breaking her out of her frustrated train of thought. “Huh! Would you look at that, Grumpy- your jaded ass-hating “noble” steed’s loyalty can unfortunately be bought by absolute strangers!”

He smirks up at her as he pulls a sugar cube from his pocket and holds it out to Flynn, who eagerly licks it up, jutting his snout into Harry’s hand to spur some more pats out of him. Y/n let out an angry huff. “Greedy traitor…” she mumbled under her breath to her horse, before taking a deep breath and got straight to the main issue, not wanting to spend any longer talking to him than she had to.

“What are you doing here? Are you stalking me?”

“God, I was just wondering when I would be in your lovely company again- you know- should I call a doctor for your hysteria? Because it is you, girly, who is consistently following me. I would be surprised due to your incessant reminders that you hate me, but I’m not. Your infatuation with me seeps through your shoddy disguise completely. Face it, Grumpy… you’re obsessed with me.”

Y/n wanted to slap him so hard. Or at least shoot back some equally damning response, but Liz’s words echo in her ears to simply ignore him. So she simply comes closer, walking to the opposite side of Flynn and begins strapping her bag to Flynn’s side saddle pouch.

“Your silence is deafening, Grumpy… Is this it? Are you finally admitting that you have been just another precious little schoolgirl obsessed with me this whole time? I bet you would look out your window and pray to every shooting star that floated by that you would see me again. Did you giggle with your little friends while braiding each other's hair about how much you want me? I bet you squirm under your covers in a little pure white virginal nightgown dreaming about my fingers and my tongue and my cock. I bet you're stupidly in love with me, huh Grumpy?”

Y/n hated the way he would describe typically feminine stereotypes with such condescension. She hated being treated like a little girl. Throwing Liz’s advice completely out the window, she couldn’t help but mumble under her breath- just a little something to hurt him. “What would you know about love, Daddy’s boy?…”

If Y/n looked up from the saddle pouch she was working on, she would see Harry’s eyes blown wide with surprise. He looked so vulnerable- almost childlike- as if her comment transported him back to his father’s house. Before she noticed his silence, though, he schooled his face and began to round the horse, his eyes darkening. “And what would you know about anything? You’re just a pathetic little girl. You act as if you have experience with the world, as if you will be anything more than a boring old housewife, but you never will be…”

Y/n stared daggers into Harry as he stalked closer and closer until he was less than a foot away from her, their outerwear brushing against each other. If he simply wrapped his arms around her waist, their bodies would be flush against one another completely. Y/n had never felt so degraded. She was just another girl to him. She was just another girl to all other men. Her biggest fear was being forgotten- for her loving family- her creative sisters and amazing mother- to be forgotten… For all of the amazing women that she encountered at balls to be forgotten. To be married off and treated as property.

Harry continues on his poisonous tirade in an unwavering cold and calm voice, striking the deepest of Y/n’s insecurities and fears with pinpoint accuracy. “You look down on my hobby of pleasuring married women, but what you don’t understand is that when you are unhappily married off within the next few years, you will be writing letters to me, begging me to relieve you. You will wish I wanted you… You will wish your husband wanted you… You will wish any man wanted you… You will wish you were special… But you're not.”

Y/n held her breath as his hands raised up from his sides, ringed fingers lightly trailing over her skirts, her waist, her arms, her shoulders. Higher and higher, they softly glided over the fabric of her puff sleeves, before reaching her face, and cupping her cheeks. Harry’s eyes slowly flitted back and forth between Y/n’s eyes and her lips. His brows furrowed and his mouth slightly opened, before lifting his right thumb to slowly pull down at her bottom lip...

…then release the pressure created with his hold, watching- almost studying, its fullness intensely as it bounced back into place. Voice now barely above a whisper, rumbly and deep, he continues.

“You’re just another silly little girl who will be nothing but a wife someday.”

Harry’s hands moved from her cheeks to her neck, cupping her head, thumbs delicately tracing circles on the skin behind her ears, sending shivers up her spine.

What was this? And why was it sending Y/n’s knees wobbly? She needs to snap out of it- remember her anger for him. All of her interactions with him, even this one, were merely strategies to throw her off- to dominate her. And she would not allow that.

So as Harry moved his hand to cup her neck, leaning in closer, she opened her mouth, ready to dismiss all logic and decimate the animal standing before her, attempting to kiss her just to intimidate her. Fuck everything- fuck him, fuck Liz’s advice, fuck men and their incessant need for girls to be prim and proper. Fuck all of them.

About to fire her biggest blow, all while he leaned closer and closer, his lips ever so close to touching hers, they were suddenly halted in their tracks by someone calling her name.

“Y/n!...” the voice was urgent but far away. Both Harry and Y/n looked out of the stable to see Ophelia running towards them. Y/n and Harry looked at each other and took a big step away from their close proximity as Ophelia finally reached the stables and held her hand on a wooden panel as she caught her breath, panting heavily.

“Th-Thank-” A wheezy heave interjected her sentence. “GOD”. Another heave. “You hadn’t left yet!” She stood up straight and wiped the light sweat from her forehead with her wrist before straightening her back and walking closer to her. She raised her right hand, which held a small handkerchief, tied into a lovely little package.

“I packed some hedgehog slice for you in case you get a little hungry on the way home!” She sighed exasperated, before looking between Y/n and Harry.

Y/n’s heart melted a little- she came bounding all the way down just to give her a little snack? She was the sweetest woman in the world! And now Y/n was going to see her in action against the intruder to her property that was Harry Styles… Y/n was ready to see some ire and some spit hurled at him once she explained exactly what Harry had said about her and all womankind, really.

But that is not what happened.

Not at all.

Ophelia smiled warmly at Harry before looking at Y/n. “Ahh, I see you have already met my nephew, Harry!”

What. The. Hell?

Harry looked smug as anything as Ophelia continued. “He is the lovely, well articulated bookworm I was telling you about the other day!”

Y/n gritted out a very hesitant “Nice to meet you…” as he looked at her, full of ego.

Harry then opened his mouth, presumably to tell his aunt about the intrusion that was Y/n’s presence on their land, but Ophelia quickly shut him up too.

“And Harry, this is the bright and wonderful tutor and friend I was telling you about! Y/n is teaching me how to read and write!”

Harry’s mouth shut immediately. It was Y/n’s turn to smirk smugly as he gritted out an “A pleasure to meet you” back. The two stared at each other steely, as if they were in a stand-off of the mind, all while Ophelia unknowingly watched on with a large smile.

“I am sure you too will be fast friends! Don’t you agree?” Ophelia had so much hope in her voice. The two grit their teeth, not wanting to make a scene or displease the sweet Ophelia-

“Certainly…”, they manage to comment, in unison.

And after Ophelia hugs Y/n goodbye one more time, before turning and leaving, Harry tails after her, but not before giving a final glance back to Y/n. He smirked, the smile filled with boyish playfulness, but Y/n saw his eyes- those blasted green eyes clouded with taunt. He was challenging her. To what exactly- she didn’t know. To see who could hurt each other the most? To see who would win in the overall war between the two? Or was it just a smirk at her begrudging fate? That she would have to put up with him now because although Ophelia is a sweet woman, Y/n’s connection to her will never trump Harry’s- he’s her nephew.

As Y/n saddled her was going to have to do what she wanted to the least in order to maintain both a professional and personal relationship with Ophelia, who she admired both as a student and as a friend…

She was going to have to be civil with Harry.

**********

Y/n believed wholeheartedly that it was punishment enough; that she was forced into both proximity and (at least) faux politeness with her sworn enemy- but evidently, fate had more to give. And damn, could it pack a punch!

It was almost silly that she hadn’t thought the universe had been through with her… When Y/n made the one-hour trip to Ophelia’s house, she just had to not bring her large, rainproof jacket. She just had to decide not to put Flynn’s horseshoes on, which would prevent him from slipping and sliding in the wet mud… Why would she do any of that?! It was perfectly sunny, and even a little bit warm on that Friday morning…

But no… of course, the moment she begins to wrap up her lesson with Ophelia and ride home- where she would tuck into a well-deserved late lunch and spend some time with sisters- of course it is only two days after she has discovered that her student raised and lived with her sworn enemy- it is then and only then that she finds herself stuck at their house, as a giant thunderstorm magically appears and begins raining hellish hail and pouring water from the sky.

“Y/n, there is no way I am letting you ride home in this weather! That simply will not happen under my roof. I will send an urgent telegram to your mother to let her know you are safe and warm, but you are staying over for the night and that is final.”

There was no arguing with Ophelia. So no more than five minutes later, Y/n was being escorted through the maze that was her student’s mansion, and to a guest room she would be occupying for the night. She was sprawled on the giant, fluffy bed when she felt her skin crawl at a particular thought- though he had not appeared during her lesson, Y/n knew that Harry was somewhere in the house- Ophelia said so herself, as they walked to her room. What if they bumped into one another?

“Harry is somewhere around here- I am sure that you two will be the bestest of friends- you have so much in common!”

Y/n had to awkwardly laugh and smile at that, agreeing as politely as possible so as to not arouse any suspicion- however, Ophelia seemed to take this for genuine interest though and began doubling down.

“Hey, why wait until dinner- I can call him now!? Maybe Harry can give you a tour of the house- the gardens, the gallery, the library! Give me two seconds and let me go fetch him-”

Y/n had never had such a visceral reaction in her life when she shouted a clear and desperate “NO!”... It took her a few seconds to recollect her thoughts before she attempted to save face; she halfheartedly dismissed the idea with a feeble excuse that she didn’t want to impose, and that she and Harry would have plenty of time to chat at dinner. Despite the suspicious glint in Ophelia’s eye, she did not press any further and left her to rest and unpack as she went to have a bath and take a relaxing nap before supper.

Thus bringing us back to Y/n- sprawled on her bed, deciding that she would not leave the room until supper. There was no way she would risk bumping into Harry while wandering around his house. What if he had another sultry guest for the evening?! What if he shooed her off as if she was nothing but a fly?! Heaven knows he had done all of that before- and all on the same night! She began rummaging through her bag to retrieve her book, content on sitting down and reading as she waited for dinner, but as she rummaged, it dawned on her…

Her novels, her personal pens and paper? All of them were either at home or in Flynn’s side saddle pouch, hanging in the stables- she had been carrying her personal books and papers for the past few lessons but found the weight quite heavy, and all for very little payoff- she rarely got a moment to read when she was in the middle of a very interactive, collaborative lesson. The reality of her situation collapsed on her as she brought her hands up to her face and let a frustrated groan into them- she was going to be stuck here in this room with no entertainment for the next four hours - Ophelia was occupied, her books and pens were with Flynn, and there were no reading materials in the beautiful yet empty chest of drawers and side tables of the elegant guest room.

There was no way she could sit quietly like this… She began to get cabin feverish already. She needed to get out…

Harry wouldn’t be strolling about his own house, right? It was 2:30 pm on a Friday- surely there must be some work he had to complete? Y/n resolved that there was no way she would be able to continue to live if she didn’t have something to stimulate her mind, and the thought of passing up an opportunity to explore the various forms of entertainment in Ophelia’s vast house seems daft, even verging on sinful…

So, with a deep breath, Y/n stretched her arms above her head, took a deep breath, and lifted herself off of the plush linen-covered mattress. She ever so slowly opened the heavy, beautifully intricate mahogany door and peeked out of the minuscule crack she created.

Left, right, left again, right again.

The coast seemed to be clear- she opened the door wider so that she could stick her whole head out of it. She looked left, right, left again, right again. You could say that she was maybe overreacting by being so very cautious, but she would rather not run into Harry and be forced to return to her room before she had acquired some entertainment and had a good look around the place.

Once she was completely sure that the coast was clear, she stepped out, gently closed the door behind her, and, with her hands behind her back, began to stroll the hallways curiously. Soon, her fascination with the grandeur of the mansion quelled her alertness and she found herself enamoured by the architecture as she walked down the hallways.

She wished she could dip her head into every room she saw, but she wasn’t that daft- that would be one surefire way to overstep her welcome, especially when she was essentially stuck until the storm cleared up.

She continued slinking around in a manner similar to Fennec’s- she took a right, and found herself walking down a hallway she would guess was near the back of the house, as the large windows to her left illuminated her pathway and showcased a beautiful array of pruned trees along a cobblestone path, with steps that led down to a beautiful, large pond filled with greenery. There was a small path that also winded around the pond and ventured into a beautiful, lush green forest. The rain pattered so beautifully onto the glass, creating beautiful shadows on the otherwise dim hallway. The house truly was magnificent.

Once reaching the end of the hallway, Y/n was greeted with two very tall and wide arched wooden doors. She hoped and prayed she wasn’t about to walk into a personal room, before pushing in to peek at the contents.

A large expanse of beautiful oak shelves befell her- filled to the brim with books. Books upon books upon books! Nestled so tenderly, they were wrapped in beautiful leather casings.

Bingo! The infamous library!

Though there was a main seating area in the middle of the room- with comfy juniper green couches that looked a dream to rest upon, there were also many bay windows and little reading nooks to curl up in. Tucked into the corner was a desk, a chair and a reading lamp. In fact, there were lamps all around the room, however, most of the light came from the warm roaring fire that blazed in the fireplace. Y/n could imagine sitting in front of the fire on a pillow, a soft throw around her and a mug of tea between her crossed legs as she read Dickens.

Y/n wove through each shelf, looking at all the amazing titles there were. There was everything here! Shakespeare and Dickens were classics, to be expected in most regal libraries, but looking closer, Y/n found Bronte and Austen too! Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, Hans Christen Anderson’s fairy tales. This place had every book Y/n had ever read or wished to read!

But something lingered in the back of Y/n’s mind…

If Ophelia cannot read, whose library is this? Who has so tenderly placed every book in alphabetical order, as well as sorted them by genre? Who has spent their time tediously gluing library cards to the inside of the back cover of seemingly every book, and has jotted down when they have been borrowed? Why would anyone ever do that, considering that most of them are read by assumedly the same person, judging by the ever so similar font and pen used to log the date of when the book was picked up and when it was finished?

Before she could finish her thought, the door suddenly opened. Y/n immediately cringed at the situation she was in- she could be caught snooping by Ophelia, oh how mortifying! As the heavy footsteps walked closer and closer to where she was, she weaved through shelves, attempting to find a spot to hide. She tiptoed through before flattening herself against a shelf at the end of the room, far from where the footsteps were heard. The unknown person’s gait was too heavy to be Ophelia’s and-

Damn!

If it was not Ophelia, there was only one other person it could be…

She took a deep, silent breath before creeping her way to the edge of the bookshelf. She went to take a peek and see where the British bastard was, however, when she took one more step and stuck her head out, she was met with his body no more than five inches from hers.

“AHH!”

“Shit!”

The pair jumped and shrieked for a quick second, not expecting the other to be so damn close. Y/n looked up to see Harry looked down at her with surprise and confusion. Her gaze panned down to his hands, noticing him carrying a brown leather bound book- it was smaller and very worn in. It looked beaten and bruised, like it had been read thousands of times. She couldn't see a title at all, but it wouldn’t matter- the moment he followed her eyes, Harry shoved the book behind his back. Her gaze snapped back up quickly enough to watch vulnerability flash in his eyes, before they set in his usual hardened gaze, infected with scorn.

He barked. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

This wasn’t nonchalant Harry- this wasn't a Harry that was prepared for her attacks. This wasn’t the Harry that used his suave and unaffected demeanour to torment Y/n as he coolly fired shot after shot at her soul. No, this was a more frantic Harry- a more aggressive, threatened Harry.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here!” Y/n explained, her brows furrowing and taking on a defensive tone, hands flying emphatically.

Harry did not reply at all. The pair stared at each other sharply. It was as if they were having a battle telepathically, staring deep into one another’s unwavering, unblinking eyes, lips pressed shut into little frowns, brows knit, each daring the other to say something more. To poke the bear more. To continue the fight. They stared and they stared until Harry looked her up and down, shaking his head and scoffing, before walking further into the library.

He seceded first! HA! She won!

This victory wasn't savoured for long, however- she soon realised how foolish she would look just standing there in Harry’s dust. She didn’t look back to see which way he went and she didn't care- she kicked her body into motion and strode out the front door. Once she was out, however, she pathetically scurried her way back to her room, mortified. Once through the door, she slammed it shut and laid back against the cool wood. She took a couple deep breaths in the safety of the guest room. Now alone, she was able to regain her ability to think.

Harry was holding a book in his hands, before shoving it behind his back? Was he… bashful? What book would have made Harry feel embarrassed?

Further, if it wasn’t Ophelia’s library, there realistically is only one other person it could belong to…

Y/n shook the idea from her head immediately. It definitely couldn’t be Harry’s- not only was he too brutish to read for leisure, but also, the books there were too beautiful, too tenderly cared for- many filled with little annotations. No, Harry could not treat a human decently, let alone a book. He wouldn’t know how! The one in his hand, however. Her heart just couldn’t let that go…

Maybe that was his? The small, beaten and bruised book. What kind of text would prompt Harry to read it over and over and over again. What words moved him so much that he felt embarrassed to show Y/n. Ofcourse, this was probably for the best- realistically, the pair should both provide as little information of their identities to each other as possible. Less ammunition that way.

But Y/n, head against the downy pillow filled to the brim with the softest stuffing, lulled by the gentle nose of the lavender oil spritzed on top of the sheets, could not help but innocently wonder if Harry had a favourite book. She always wanted someone to share her love of reading- a simple friend that she could rant and rave to other than her sisters who, despite not possessing the same fire and passion as Y/n when it came to literature, attempted their hardest to understand her speeches and monologues of theory.

It was not a question- Harry could never be that friend to Y/n…

But God, did Y/n wish that stopped her from imagining a version of him that could be.

#regency!harry #regency!harry x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic #harry styles enemies to lovers #regency!harry enemies to lovers #by bug

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mostlymarvelsstuff · 1 year

Note

For the romantic dialogue prompt 11. “Don’t make me say it. I can’t say the words.” Nat is in love with reader but doesn’t want to say it because she doesn’t think reader will feel the same/she’s insecure and doesn’t think she deserves reader. Ofc reader loves Nat (who wouldn’t?) and they get together and live happily ever after. lots of hurt/comfort

Authors note: sorry its so late, but I hope you enjoy it!

Authors note 2.0: requests are still closed. I’m trying to clear my inbox before opening them again. Thank you for your patience 💖

Word count: 3251 Nat Masterlist Marvel Masterlist

Natashas heart hammers in her chest as she runs down the compound's various hallways. The quinjet landed only minutes ago so she's racing to make it to the med bay where she knows the team, and therefore you will be.

As she enters through the double doors the sound of Peter sniffling coupled with the crestfallen looks on Tony and Clints faces tell her all her worst fears are coming true, and she almost doesn’t want to face that. But she knows she has to. If not for herself, then for you. She can be strong for you.

“How- how is she?”

Tony lowers his gaze, “Not good. She got hit really hard out there.”

“We honestly didn’t think we’d get her back in time. She's very lucky.” Clint admits, looking at Nat in a way the billionaire had never seen before. If he had to describe it he’d say it was a mix of stern disappointment yet hopeful encouragement. How a person can combine those looks is beyond him, but he's sure it's some sort of signal. A way for the two spies to communicate without words like they so often do.

“Y/ns strong.” the redhead proclaims, trying to calm herself, “She’ll be ok.”

Clint looks away from her then too and she can feel her stomach drop and her mouth go dry at his lack of agreement and comfort. She swallows harshly, desperate to keep her tears at bay. If she doesn't cry then she can act like this doesn’t affect her, like none of this is really happening. You aren’t in some operating room right now hanging on against the odds, fighting for your life. She's not head over heels in love with you, desperate to be yours and be by your side forever…But you are, and she is.

She very much is, and right now she can’t help but feel like an absolute moron. Despite her fears and insecurities she should have risked it. Maybe then she would have had time with you. To hold you, to cherish and love you and get the same from you in return. But now…no, no she can’t think like that. You’ll be ok. You have to be, because if you're not, then she won’t be.

“I’m so sorry Miss Romanoff” Peter whimpers, and her head swivels to look at him, “I really messed up. Y/ns hurt because of me….I’m so so sorry”

Natasha doesn’t know what happened out there, but she knows your affinity for the boy, how you became attached to him nearly the second Tony brought him in. So much so that your protectiveness for him rivals the fatherly instincts the billionaire himself has for the young hero. And she knows Peter, she's been training him, so she knows him better than he even thinks she does. He doesn’t always watch his six and he would never hurt a teammate on purpose, least of all you. This was an accident. Sometimes missions just went wrong, it wasn’t anyone's fault but the enemies and she knows you wouldn’t want Peter to be blaming himself for this.

“Malen'kiy pauk(little spider), Y/n would do anything to keep you safe. Whatever happened was not your fault, because you've done nothing wrong.”

Faster than humanly possible Peter launches himself into her arms, and as his head comes to rest against her shoulder she finally lets her resolve crumble. Hot tears run down her cheeks faster than she ever thought imaginable, and she hopes Peter can't feel the sheer volume that's landing against his neck, though she knows he wouldn't say anything about it even if he did.

“She's hurt really bad” Peter whimpers out through his sobs, “She might be dying”

Natasha desperately shakes her head, “No. She'll pull through.”

A few moments of silence pass before she's brave enough to speak again, “She…she’ll pull through. She has to. I- I need her to be ok.”

Finally Clint comes over and wraps his arms around the two of them. He knows by the way Natasha trembles that she’s close to her absolute breaking point. And he's not sure that she’d be comfortable being that vulnerable in front of Tony and Peter, even if the genius absolutely knew about the not so secret pining. And of course the teen had his own suspicions. Nat was secretive when it came to emotions, and she had her reasons to be. So he’ll do what he can to help her keep some comfort.

She clutches onto the archers shirt as if it were her lifeline, and he tentatively squeezes her shoulder to prove he's there for her. He’ll be her rock whenever she needs him to be, it's been this way since she opened up to him all those years ago and he’ll happily let it stay that way until the very end. He considers it an honor that she trusts him enough to let him see this perceived weaker version of herself.

“Tell me she'll pull through Clint, please.”

He sighs, the answer won’t be what she wants to hear and it will break her further, but he owes the truth to her. He can’t give her false hope. She needs to be prepared. “I wish I could Nat, truly. But she really was in a really bad state when we got her here. If Tony hadn’t flown her here from the quinjet I don’t know if she would have been breathing”

Sure enough a sob escapes her, and her trembling only worsens as Peter all but collapses against her. Clint holds them up to the best of his ability while sparing an urgent glance in Tony's direction. The older man quickly makes his way over to the three and gently loops his arms under Peters.

“C'mon kid. I got ya. Let's get you sitting down, alright?”

Peter only manages to nod as Tony walks away with him, leading him back to where he’d first been sat. Natasha allows Clint to fully envelope her in his embrace then, and she finds the guilt of all the possibilities that could have been between the two of you is crashing down on her shoulders with the weight of cinder blocks.

“I never told her” she whispers into his chest, and he doesn’t ask for clarification because he knows all too well what she means. He'd been trying to convince her to admit her feelings for years now, “I need more time…I just wasn’t ready, but I should have pushed myself. I should have found a way to make her understand even if I can’t say the words.”

He pulls back from her, places his hands on both her shoulders and looks her dead in the eyes, “Then Natasha, if she makes it through this, that's exactly what you do, ok? You march in there and you do whatever you have to to get your chance.”

Her lower lip quivers, “B- but what do I do if she doesn’t? What if…what if I never get my chance because I was a coward?”

“Oh honey” he coos, pulling her back into a hug, “You were scared. Scared to be loved and to be vulnerable. Scared Y/n wouldn't feel the same. Scared that you wouldn’t know what to do. Scared you didn’t deserve her. And all these are normal feelings somebody has in this kinda situation. Unfortunately the circumstances of your past made those fears even worse for you, that doesn’t make you a coward.”

She looks at him, tears streaming down her reddened face with her lower lip trembling. His heart sinks in his chest seeing her like this. So open and with her feelings, so scared to lose you. He gently wipes her cheeks with his calloused thumbs, “You're the strongest and bravest person I know Nat.”

“I second that statement” Tony speaks up from next to the teen, “And I’m lab partners with the Hulk so i know a thing or two about strength.”

His reply gets a small twitch of her lip and roll of her eyes in response, and he knows that with the way she feels right now that those actions were worth more than a Hollywood actor's showstopping grin. And the fact that he was able to gain that response makes him beam with pride. He cheered her up, if only just a tiny smidge, but he’d gladly take it.

Before anything else can be said by anyone the med bays main doors open, and a doctor steps through. Natashas attention is on him at once, and she quickly approaches, “Is Y/n- er, Agent Y/l/n alright?”

“We’ve got her stable now. It was touch and go there for a bit. Her heart stopped on us once but- ” That's all she registers beforese zones out of the conversation. The same words playing on repeat are all she can focus on. Her heart stopped.

You had died. If anything had happened to slow the quinjet down and keep it from bringing you in then the doctors wouldn't have been there to revive you, and instead of worrying in the med bay she would have been mourning your loss at the landing platform. And that fact terrifies her.

She isn’t even aware that she zoned out for as long as she had until Tony's hand grasps her shoulder, “Nat?”

“W- what?” she stutters, blinking her previous thoughts away while looking around, “I’m sorry”

The doctor nods in understanding, “It’s alright. Agent Y/l/n was successfully resuscitated and though she's currently stable she's still in critical condition. She's still sedated, so that coupled with her original trauma will most likely keep her unconscious for at least the rest of today and potentially into tomorrow.”

“But she’ll be ok, right?” she asks, needing to hear something hopeful

“I'm afraid it’s still too early to tell. For now all we can do is wait and see if she makes it through the night. But if she wakes we can properly assess her.”

The Russian can feel her chest tighten, “If…if she wakes? I don’t understand?”

“She acquired a lot of head trauma. Alone that trauma is enough to potentially keep her comatose, but when you add in the use of anesthesia that risk becomes even higher.” he explains, “Now normally we wouldn’t have used any, but with her multiple stab wounds we were left with no other options.”

Her lower lip trembles as she swallows the lump in her throat, “Can I see her? Please?”

He nods, “Follow me”

When she arrives in your room a feeling of nausea fills her. The room is dull, with its lights dimmed and blinds closed but she can still see you clearly. Your skin is paler than normal, lacking its usual glow and she can already see the swelling and bruising settling in on your face, arms and collarbone. The steady beating of the heart monitor is the only noise that fills the small room, and while normally such a noise would put her on edge she finds it calms her this time, because it tells her that you're still here. You're alive.

Tears roll down her cheeks as her hand makes its way to yours, “Y/n, I...I don’t know if you can hear me, but I’m here. I’m right here dorogoy(sweetheart), so please don’t go anywhere.”

As the hours pass by she continues to sit with you, she's too afraid to leave your side or let you out of her sight. She worries that if she allows either of those things, then the worst will happen to you. Which rationally she knows is ridiculous, her presence and vigilante watch wouldn’t be enough to stop death from taking you if that's truly what was in store for you. But still, being here with you gives her some small comfort and right now she needs all the comfort she can get.

At some point she had fallen asleep, it had been rather restless as she didn’t want to risk sleeping through anything that may occur, so she forced herself to stay out of her REM cycle. So what little rest she did manage couldn’t even be classified as such really, but it did end up working the way she intended it to.

The faint beeping that she'd become accustomed to suddenly picks up in speed slightly, and her eyes immediately shoot open. She quickly scans the machine to make sure it wasn't malfunctioning and once satisfied they move to you. Nothing appears different, at least not in a bad way. Your skin seems to have gained back a bit more of its natural color and though this relieves her she's still uncertain about your heart rate. Before she can worry any more, a nurse enters.

“What's going on? Is she ok?”

The nurse smiles kindly at her while checking your chart, “She's doing just fine Agent Romanoff, the slight increase in heart rate is a good thing. It means she's trying to wake up”

Natasha can’t hide the excitement that takes over her features, and she grabs your hand once more, “Pozhaluysta, vernis' ko mne. Ty mne nuzhen zdes'(Please come back to me. I need you here.)”

As if hearing, and understanding, her whispered words, your eyelids begin to flutter and though the room is nearly completely dark you still groan at the way the light affects your sensitive eyes. Sensitive or not though there's no mistaking that bright red hair, or who it belongs to. Even if her form is a bit blurry.

“Uggh…Nat?” you rasp out, and she immediately moves closer

“I’m right here” she responds, hoping you don’t notice the tears rolling down her cheeks, “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit”

Your honest reply pulls a laugh from her and she gently squeezes your hand as the nurse walks over to your other side to begin checking you over. Once she's done with her various tests and writing notes in her chart she leaves the room, leaving you alone with the Russian you've come to love. Your eyes glance at your hand to see that your suspicions are correct, the weight you feel in your hand is indeed her own. You gently squeeze it before allowing your gaze to meet hers.

“You've been crying” you state, allowing your free hand to brush against her reddened cheek. The way she nuzzles her face into your palm takes you by surprise, but you allow to seek comfort this way and cup her cheek. You watch in awe as her whole body relaxes at this embrace

“I thought…I thought I was going to lose you” she admits in a whisper and her lower lip trembles as she closes her eyes. Despite this another tear slips down her face, but you quickly brush it away. A small whimper leaves her at this gesture, and she leans further into your hand

And that's when things start to click. Sure, you've had your suspicions that the Russian spy had feelings for you, but she's so closed off to emotions that it's hard to get an accurate read on her. If you were reading too much into her friendship and just projecting your own feelings you didn’t want to make things awkward by confessing your love for her, so you stayed quiet. Those suspicions never quite went away though. And now yearn to know if there's any validation to your thoughts.

“Nat, I- ” you start to talk but she cuts you off with a shake of her head

“No Y/n, you don’t understand. When you got here, your heart stopped. You….you died” she trembles slightly, “And you never would have known…”

You look at her softly, the weight of what she said sinking in. You knew the dangers of this job when you took it, still you're glad to be alive and you can’t help but feel guilty for what Natasha has gone through since you decided to throw caution to the wind and blow your own cover in a means to get attention away from a stuttering and fumbling Peter that had just raised suspicion by admitting to be a Stark Industries intern.

“What wouldn’t I have known?”

She thought that by now, after everything she'd be able to get those three words out, but when she tries her throat goes impossibly dry and her mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water.

“I- I…” she huffs, “Don’t make me say it. I can’t say the words.”

You smile at her sympathetically, “How about you show me then? Think you can do that?”

She eagerly nods her head, desperate to prove to you how much she cares. She moves even closer and you remove your hand from her face to give her full freedom of movement. She removes her hand from yours and gently cups your face. Her thumb brushes over a small bruise while her other hand tucks a stray hair behind your ear, and her eyes swim with a multitude of emotions as they take in your appearance close up. She takes one last deep breath and surges forward, allowing her lips to meet yours.

It's sloppy, full of desperation and tears, but it's also full of other things too. Regret, fear, and most importantly, love. She finds she needs air far too quickly for her liking so she relents in breaking the kiss. She doesn't move away though, instead she rests her forehead against yours and lets her nose bump yours too. You melt against her, grateful for her open show of affection, her way of saying she loves you without having to actually say it. That will come when she's ready, and you won’t push.

“I love you too Natasha”

She gives you a wide watery smile, gratefully that you not only understood her gesture but that you felt the same way she does. She carefully and quickly crawls into the bed next to you and gently wraps an arm around you as she buries her face against your neck.

“I was so scared” she admits as your own arm wraps around her waist

“I can imagine. But I’m ok, Natty. I’m here and I’ve got you.”

She sniffles, “You promise?”

You tighten your hold on her and plant a kiss to the top of her head, “I promise”

She nods against you but you can tell she's still not fully at ease. To help calm her fears you take the hand that's around your waist and place it on your chest. She can feel each strong beat of the muscle under your sternum and it's only then that she relaxes against you.

“You're ok” she says, more to herself than you

“Mhm, I’m ok” you reply, “Great actually, now that I have you”

She moves her face away from your neck to look at you with a softness you've never seen before but know is only reserved only for you, “You mean that?”

“Of course I do. This is all I’ve ever wanted, you're all I ever wanted.” She smiles widely before settling against you once more, kissing your collarbone affectionately and you somehow know what that means, “Love you too Natty, love you too.”

By the time Clint comes to check in he finds you both fast asleep, intertwined with each other in the small hospital bed, and he happily smiles because you were ok, and now all was as it should be.

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