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theblueflower05 · 10 months

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Yawnyewla(Broken Heartedness) | Part Two

A/N: It has been a crazy month or so, real life has brutalized me. Sorry you guys are getting this chapter later than planned Avatar + the Omegaverse has been my comfort lately. @cinetrix you have been especially supportive and I lova ya bby. Thank you for making me some Mega Neteyam to keep my writing brain on! The art below is made by her and omg right?

Word Count: 10k+

Warnings: Alien sex. Alien Genitalia. Oral sex(female and male receiving), Fingering(female and male receiving) Cursing. Angst(it’s me, duh) and mild talks about past grooming. Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics.

Summary: You’re the Metkayinan Olo’eykete in training, but sometimes even you buckle under the crippling pressure. Will Neteyam be there to comfort you?

Omega Neteyam x Female Alpha Reader

Series Masterlist

<Part One

Part Three>

You only ever touch me in the dark,

Only when we’re drinking can you see my spark.

And only in the evening would you give yourself to me,

Cause the night is your woman and she’ll set you free

-Lies, Marina and the Diamonds

Your life had always been ruled by carefully crafted routine. Early mornings as the sun rose on the glittering sea, and late nights after most were tucked away.

Being the eldest daughter in any family came with its own list of responsibilities. But for you, the eldest of the reigning Olo’eyktan and Tsahik who also happened to be an Alpha, it seemed like you had been born with duty running through your bloodstream. Burdened with glorious purpose.

It had been clear from an early age just what was expected of you. A life, lived for your people, was your destiny.

And at most times that was okay.

You were happy to serve, it was in your nature to care for others. Good Alpha’s, your mother had taught you, are not ruled by ego. Or violence. Strength comes from within, is a honed skill like fishing or net weaving. Strength is taking care of your family. Helping the elderly and the young. Making sure everyone has a full belly before they lie their head down for bed.

You we're a good Alpha, or at least you tried to be. You knew you could be if you tried. If you could just be calm for long enough to focus.

Ronal liked to say that you were more like the ocean than anyone she had ever met. She had birthed the sea incarnate- with its strong crashing, never faulting, waves. It’s vastness. It’s life-giving vitality.

And its wild nature.

There was something unsettled about you. Deep down, you would never be still. There was a need to learn. Explore. To fight and scream and run. An untamed side of you that Ronal and Tonowari had watched with equal parts amusement and hesitancy during your childhood.

From a young age you’d jumped from the highest cliffs. Sailed out past the reef. Engaged in fights with warriors twice your size, Limping away from tussles with a crimson tinged grin and your big blue eyes sparkling.

The older you get, the more you try to temper it. You desperately attempt to shove it somewhere hidden and out of sight. You can't be what anyone wants you to be with all of this restlessness inside of you. You can't support your father's throne or keep your people healthy-

There’s no room for it. For you, at your core. In your soul.

No one wants a wild woman.

You’d heard it before, it had left a bitter taste in your mouth and a stain on your heart.

In your younger years you were a bit of a trouble maker, but you’d like to think you'd reformed. If only a little bit. It’s not like you truly had the time to get into messes anyway.

Especially not at this time of year.

Though it’s sacred, a time for joy and festivity, it’s exhausting. To say the least. With the Iknimaya ceremony and The Return of the Tulkun looming in the very near future, the village of Awa’atlu was a buzz.

There’s preparations to be made. And endless list of duties to fulfill-

And yet, this migration cycle, you lag.

Usually, you run around like an austrapede(chichen like creature) with its head cut off. Heading to your parents every word. Not getting a moment to truly breathe, your sole focus on making sure that the ceremonies went smoothly-

Something else entirely has your attention. A certain golden eyed man that had bewitched you completely.

You thought you had known infatuation before Neteyeam.

You've certainly had crushes before.

There had been others who caught your eye, definitely.

But this? You’d never felt anything close to this. You think about him when you awake in the morning and before you fall asleep. When you’re not with him, you're aching for the moment that you can find time to slip away and get your hands back on his hard, muscle corded body. Your mind constantly assaults you with images of him. His broad shoulders and long braids. His mouth, swollen and puffy. His deep moans as you bring him over the edge-

“Look at you” Your good friend, Akime, grunts through a laugh. Breaking you from your reverie.

You’d been sat with a group, working on repairing weapons for the Great Hunt that would ensue after the Iknimaya trials.

But Neteyam had walked by with his father.

Doing something mundane, toting heavy woven baskets to the big main Mauri for dinner. His arm muscles bulging in a way that had you greedily tracing his form. He’d only given you a small nod in acknowledgement as he passed. An even smaller smile.

“Shut your mouth-and focus on your whittling. I pity the poor soul who ends up with that lopsided spear” you retort with a roll of your eyes.

You're not embarrassed about being caught ogling. You knew you weren't the only one. The Omiticayan transplant was one of the most gorgeous Omega’s that had ever stepped foot on the islands. Everyone was a bit dazed.

“He’s very pretty, I'll give you that. But he’s so stand offish- I could never see you with a mate like that, yawne(beloved)” Akemi was your closest confidant outside of your family.

A Beta who stood much taller than you and had the brawn of two men but was the kindest Na’vi you’d ever met. A gentle giant so to speak. He wore his dark hair pulled into a loose bun at the nape of his neck most days and black ink tattoo’s swirled around most of his body. A decorated warrior and hunter with the tattoos to prove it.

Everyone had assumed the two of you would mate, until he met his husband. Another Beta Male from one of the smaller islands. The two had all but raised Akemi’s cousin, Roxto, after the abrupt and tragic passing of the younger boy's parents.

“He’s really not,” you sigh, shaking your head as you sharpen the blades.

“Oh? I don't think I've ever heard him speak more than a few words at a time. And he always has that look on his face- like he swallowed a Wonwon fruit(lemon like fruit)”

Neteyam has many skills, you’d learned as you’d spent endless hours training him. Being a social butterfly is surely not one of them. He clams up around big groups, gets nervous and awkward. You find it endearing, even though you know the Omega is really hard on himself for it. He’s actually really funny and easy to talk to when you get to know him.

“He’s shy, be nice” you chide your friend easily. “There is nothing wrong with him not wanting to gab all day with any and everyone”

“Hah! I guess your loud skxawng ass can talk for the both of you. You never shut up” Akemi dodges the small shell you throw at him “But really, he’s so different then what you usually go for-” Akemi goes on and if it was anyone else you’d shove them off. Tell them to mind their own business.

Neteyam had made it clear that he wanted to keep what the two of you had under wraps, at least for now. And even though that wasn't what you particularly wanted, you respected his wishes.

“And what is it I usually go for, pray tell?” your brow bone rises, confrontational and curious.

“People just as annoying as you” Akemi dead pans and you can’t help but snort “You like Na’vi who challenge you. Who are just as bold and loud and daring. Is he not too…soft for you, my friend?”

In the past you had been attracted to men and women who matched the spark in you. And it had always ended in misery. In yelling and fighting and you questioning if you're meant to be alone because in partnerships you seem to always chase away the other.

But with Neteyam it’s different. He isn't a challenge, he doesn't want to knock you down a peg or make you change…he only wants to be your equal.

“Just because he’s quiet doesn't mean he’s soft” you defend the Omega like he’s your own, because that’s all you want. You want to wear his bite “He’s actually the fiercest warrior I’ve ever trained. His skillset is unmatched. I mean, I can keep up with him. But just barely”

Akemi chews this over. Continuing to carve at the spear in his hands “It sounds like he’s impressed you” and that's not an easy feat. You both know. “I'm excited to see his performance for the Iknimaya”

You are too. You can't wait to watch Neteyam shine.

The ocean had not been his chosen terrain, but oh. How beautiful it had been to watch him master it. He rode Tsurak like he had been doing so for years. Uses the crossbow like it had been made just for him.

You liked your partner's competent, and Neteyam checked every. Single. Box.

“If he has you caught in his net, why don't you announce your courtship?” Akemi questions because he knows he can. That he’s your best friend and that you and those walls and that strong strong heart can be open with him.

You hesitate. Chew on your lip for a moment.

“He’s not ready for anyone to know yet” the words are hard. You get it. Neteyam’s not a fledged “adult” member of the Metkayina yet. But many court before their rites, before mating.

“Y/N…”Akemi sighs and it makes your hackles rise.

“It’s fine. It makes sense. He’ll come around after his Iknimaya- that’s the only reason why” you insist to your friend. To yourself.

Akemi purses his lips before he speaks. Choosing his words wisely “I hope that is the case, I truly do. But…you’re my closest friend. I only want your happiness, and investing your feelings into someone who doesn't reciprocate isn't the smartest move, yawne. I just don't want to see you fall into any old patterns”

He doesn't want to watch you pledge your love to another man who's going to stomp all over your feelings. It’d been devastating to bare witness to last time.

You don't like to speak of it. Try not to even think of it. But it doesn’t take from the fact that it had happened.

“I will be fine” You insist, a smile plastered on your face, fake as can be “I’d like to think i’m not that stupid anymore”

Akemi’s nostrils flare “You we’re never stupid, you were young. And vulnerable. You know that right-”

“Please” you interrupt him, head shaking firmly “I don't want to get into this now” or ever.

Most people know not to push you.

That you’d fight back tooth and nail when you feel threatened- but much like your family. Akemi isn't scared of your claws and slick mouth. He’s very much going to push the issue- but is interrupted before he can.

It’s Ao’nung and Roxto, coming down the beach.

Rough housing, tails bumping each other. Even if he hadn't been Akemi’s kin, Roxto would be your favorite of your little brothers friends. He kept Ao’nung in check.

“Y/N!” your brother calls as he approaches- “Sempul wanted you. Says he needs you to help with the Mauri renovations or something.”

He plops down beside you, all the way in your personal space, and you give him a look. Overgrown man-child. Whatever was he going to do when mother had the new baby and he wasn't the youngest anymore?

Roxto stays standing, greeting you politely like the good boy he was. Akemi had done wonders raising him. He turns to his cousin and speaks about plans for dinner for their grandmother.

“When?” you question. You really had hoped you’d be left out of that project, you weren't much of an architect and painting and plastering all day was b o r i n g beyond compare.

“This afternoon” Ao’nung continues.

“But I’m training Neteyam later” you push, your stomach dropping at the thought of not getting to spend your usual time with the Omega. It seems like these days the trainings were few and far between- and after his Iknimaya, he wouldn't need them at all.

“Not today. Tsireya’s gonna have all of ‘em, free diving practice I think” Ao’nung continues, as he reaches for your canteen. Taking big sloppy drink.

“But-”

“Fathers orders, not mine” Ao’ shrugs and you know that he’d had no part in the decision making. Was only an unfortunate messenger.

Still. You snatch your leather canteen with a hiss, standing up. “That's mine, you little freeloader. I hope you’re going to be helping Tsireya with her lessons, your still on thin ice from the Lo’ak incident”

“I am going to help!”

“Good, you better be nice to them” you warn as you gather your belongings and prepare for an afternoon of helping out with Mauris instead of with your sweet Neteyam. Your mood soured greatly.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve been nice lately, have I not? Roxto, haven't I been nice?” Aonung turns to his friend who does nod.

“As nice as Aonung can be, yeah” Roxto agrees and Neteyam punches his shoulder playfully, insisting that he had been a damn saint.

“Uhuh. Keep it up. Tsireya will tell me if you so much as whisper one sideways remark. You boys have a good rest of your afternoon” You give Ao’nung a pointed stare, ruffle Roxto’s hair, and pat at Akemi’s shoulder as you depart.

“We’ll continue our conversation later, Y/N!” Akemi warns, your back already turned.

You just wave at him without turning back- happy to have escaped the trauma laden conversation.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You end up crawling into your bed that night, dead tired. You don't even burrow under your bed mat- instead you lie atop the covers. You have splinters under your nails from the hay like palm that was used to construct the pods. The afternoon had been long and boring, just as you’d known it would be.

But the worst part is that you hadn't gotten the chance to see Neteyam. To taste his saccharine kisses. As you stare at your beamed ceiling you think of only him.

When you fall asleep his face is behind your eyelids.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

After days and days of activity that had seemed to keep the two of you apart, you’re ready to snap. Antsy and eager and needy for just a moment of Neteyam’s time.

The Omega doesn’t seek you out- he just gives you those tiny little smiles and private glances across the fires during communal dinner. It drives you mad, your fingers itch to run through his hair. Your lips want to rerun that familiar path down his chest-

You know he has to miss you as much as you miss him…right?

You don't allow those seeds of doubt to plant. Instead, your brain, desperate for the chemical rush that came with being around Neteyam, begins to plot on how you’d get to see him next.

As you go through the motions of your day, there’s only one thing on your mind and that is the fact that you need to see the Omega.

You have to ask around to figure out where the eldest Sully sibling is- he’s helping out in the orchards. His expertise tree climbing skills of great use.

Hidden in the shadows of the tropical trees, you wait. Lurking like a predator. You feel like a puluakan stalking her prey as you watch Neteyam from a far. He’s helpful and polite, his usual quiet self as he works with the other Metkayina to harvest the ripe fruits and vegetables.

While everyone else starts to head back- he stays. Neteyam insists that can get the ones from the tallest trees on his own. He’s happy to be useful.

Perfect.

You’re a hunter, tried and true. The only place in life where you could hone in on your thin patience, be quiet. Take your time. You move quick and silent, closer to your target. Your heart flutters fast, visibly beating in your throat and your kuru tingling with excitement.

When he’s nearly within arm's reach, right there, you’re prepared to pounce-

-Of course, he pounces first.

A brutal flash of clashing blue as the two of you collide.

It takes all of your strength, years of training, but somehow it ends up with him pinned to the thick base of the Yovo tree. Panting and staring down at you with wide tawny eyes. The corner of his mouth pulled up into a smirk.

“Hi” Though you’re a little breathless from the scuffle, you grin.

One of your hands on his shoulder, fingers digging into the hard muscle there. The other pressed against his waist. So close to him that you can feel his body heat.

“Hi” he’s so beautiful it hurts to look at him for too long. Of course, what most don't know about Neteyam- is that he’s a smart ass “You suck at stalking. I could hear you coming the moment you stepped out of the bush”

“No I don't” You cajole, a bubble of laughter building in your fast expanding chest “We’ve barely spoken in a week, and the first thing you do is be mean to me? It’s almost as if you didn't miss me at all”

“How are you gonna know to correct your form if I don't tell you?” He jests, struggling a little in your grip for good measure.

You give him a warning hiss.

This little game the two of you liked to play was usually fun, the push and pull of it all. A teasing filled hunter and prey routine that more often than not ended with Neteyam spreading his thighs as he finally let you have him.

You hadn't kissed your boy in days. You didn't have it in you to wait.

“I was hoping you’d want to tell me something other than how shit you think I am at hunting” you sigh, deep, for dramatic effect.

“What kind of other things?” Neteyam’s eyes keep flickering from your own, down to your mouth. His pink tongue peeks out, runs across the plush of his bottom lip and your knees feel a little weak.

“Things like you’ve missed me” you disclose, because you just can't help it. “Cause I’ve missed you”

You can feel him loosen under your hands, the fight draining. His ears twitch, lowering a bit, and his gaze goes unbearably tender.

“I’ve missed you” he confirms after a moment and it's all you need to hear.

You lunge, groaning the moment you're able to feel his kiss. It’s warm and wet. Full of little nips licks that drive you wild because they feel way too good. An all consuming kind of good- you feel him in your bones. When you release him, your grip on his shoulder falters, his arms wrap around you strong and tight.

You pull away, lips tingling and shiny “How much did you miss me?”

He groans and presses his lips back to yours, annoyed as you keep the kiss shallow. Pecks and light presses while he tries to force his tongue into your mouth. You herd even closer, caging him against the bark. His snuffles, cool air through his snout in annoyance “Y/N, come on”

Instead of responding, your hands begin to drift, fingers dragging across his indigo skin as they take their feel. Oh, this body. How you adored it. His strong shoulders and broad torso, all of that rippling muscle so sensitive and clenching under your touch. Your lips leave his, kissing sloppily across his cheek and down the hinge of his jaw. Stopping only when you can press your face into the place on his neck, right behind his ear, where his scent gland was pumping out that hypnotic musk.

Neteyam’s pheromones are like nothing you’ve ever encountered. They’re knock you on your ass strong, for one. You’d been able to smell him from across the beach the first time you’d met him-back when the Sully’s had descended from the sky. For two they’re foreign and unlike anything you’d previously encountered.

He smells of pine, herby and sharp. Of honeyed tree sap. Of fruit you’ve never learned the name of and the dew that stuck to the foliage in the mornings. It tingles in your nose as you inhale deeply, getting greedy lungfuls of his essence. Very much the scent of a virile young Omega in his prime.

Neteyam gets all shivery when you scent him like this. His head lulls to the side as he presents his entire smooth neck to you like a fucking prize.

It’s heady, the way he gives himself to you. How are you not supposed to be in love with him?

“Missed you so much” he whimpers as you lap at the gland “You’ve been so busy. I- ah, oh-” his speech is broken up. Overwhelmed by your mouth assaulting him and your dainty hand attempting to slip under his tweng “I didn't want to bother you”

You don't pull away when you speak, can't manage to tear your mouth from its ministrations. Instead, your words vibrate right into his skin “Please bother me, paskalin(sweet berry). Bother me all the time”

His laughter is as sweet as his scent, and you want to bathe in it.

Neteyam is an indulgence and you're gluttonous for him.

Screw your duties, whatever was waiting for you back at the village could do just that. Wait. It’s a bit scary how quickly you’re willing to put everything on the back burner if it meant you could spend just one sun drenched afternoon with him.

He looks good, in the shade of the palms. His eyes closed and cheeks flushed as the two of you ravage each other. Your hips knocking into one and other as you desperately rub against him through the layers of your clothing.

You’re completely wrapped up in him. You don't realize how much time you’ve spent just kissing him. You know that you’re needed for just about a billion different things but as you taste his spit you can't remember to care.

When you begin tugging at the cords of his tweng he sobers a bit, squirming. “What if someone sees, the gathering group might return”

“Fuck them” you mindlessly mutter, working at the blasted knots. You want his cock. You need to taste him on your tongue.

Neteyam huffs in amusement, reaching down to undo them for you. He always makes it look so easy with those long nimble fingers.

When he’s freed from his confines, your quick hands are all over him. Pawing at his bare inner thighs, groaning when your fingertips run along his dripping slit. You can already feel his manhood, rock hard, and poking out from the protective sheath of his body.

Neteyam is gorgeous and so, so sensitive. He’s throwing his head back, braids grinding against the bark as you play with him. Getting him all wet and messy between his strong thighs.

“Oh shit- shit, Y/N” he wheezes as you grasp his member in your hand, stroking him until he’s standing proud and fully erect.

Neteyam’s very much well endowed. He’s got girth yes, but Eywa he’s long. You wonder what it would be like to take him inside of you. You’re so sure that he would hit places that no other had before. You clench around nothing, can feel your knot internally swell, just dying to contract around him and milk him dry.

You can't, sadly. Not yet. Or you’d lay him down and sit right on his cock this very moment.

Instead you give him everything else. He’s moaning low in his throat as he squirms, and his hands disappear in your hair. Your eyes fight the urge to roll when his fingernails skritch at your scalp just right.

You're sinking then, down onto your knees. You want to taste him and your eager mouth envelopes his mushroom cock head at once. His earthy sweet taste explodes across your tastebuds and you don't know who moans louder, you or Neteyam.

You enjoy giving oral pleasure, you always had. It makes you feel powerful. You control Neteyam as you suckle on his manhood. When your hands come to play, inching down towards his hole he grunts and bucks hard. Your throat constricts around him with a gag.

Its so sexy. The way he chases his release makes you burn.

His virgin hole is tight, the muscles tense as you circle it with your fingers. The sounds Neteyam gurgles above you make it clear that he doesn't want you to stop. It’s a beyond snug fit as you push a single digit in.

The darker man practically sings. His abdominals clench and you’re pretty sure he’s about to blow-

When suddenly his hands fisting your locks go from holding you close, to pushing you away. You’re only haughtily confused for a moment.

The two of you freeze.

Sensitive ears twitching as the sound of crunching footsteps in the distance.

The orchard is large and full of fruit trees and bushes, making an escape without getting caught is easy enough. You slip behind an enormous berry bush, hidden easily by the thorned shrubbery. You’re vibrating with the thrill though, as you and Neteyam avoid being spotted. Just barely.

You don't think you would have minded if anyone would have caught you on your knees pleasuring your beautiful Omega.

Neteyam on the other hand doesn't look as happy as you. He actually seems kind of spooked. Crouching low and alert as the voices hum in the distance he re-ties his tweng with shaky hands. He doesn't relax until they pass and even then his shoulders stay tense.

“It’s okay, I never get caught, don't worry” You press a comforting hand to his side, and he sighs. Leaning into your touch despite himself.

You can tell the moment of passion is over and you hate it, although it probably is for the best.

“I have to go” you’re mournful of the fact” I’m sure they’re looking for me, back at the village”

His face falls, a little frown that’s cuter than it should be marring his features “Okay…”

You cup his cheek on your palm, making him look at you “We’ll get to be together soon, yes? I’m going out of my mind, I need make you come again”

Neteyam bites the inside of his lip hard “Soon” he agrees.

It takes everything for you to leave him in the orchard and not drag him straight to your bed.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

There are more moments like these as the weeks go on.

Stolen flashes of intimacy.

The two of you sneaking in kisses and groping touches wherever you can. It's always white hot, and over way too soon and somehow you feel even more desperate and strung out after them. Like you’re only getting a taste of what you so desperately want to savor.

You think you’re handling it pretty well. Hiding your split attention-

It all comes to a head at dinner.

The Inknimaya celebrations are only days away and the largest Mauri, the communal one right in the center of the village is packed to the brim with buzzing Na’vi.

You’re sat with your family and a group of high standing village leaders at the head of the meal. Tsireya on one side of you and your very pregnant mother on the other. Your Father sits, right in the middle, and Ao’nung to his side.

There is discussion of the rites and who will be present to officiate them and witness them.

You’re barely listening, so exhausted it’s hard to keep your eyes open. You could blame it on your busy day but really, it's because you and Neteyam had spent last night tangled in each other until the early hours of the morning eclipse.

You meet his gaze from across the crowded room.

Neteyam looks as tired as you feel. And still, he grins. A barely there thing just for you. When his hands move it’s subtle movements while no ones paying attention.

He signs, just the way you’d taught him. Only one word.

Tonight.

“Y/N- are you listening?” It’s your mothers voice, firm and cutting and breaking you from your own head.

“Of course” its an automatic lie as you pick at a piece of fish from your plate. You hadnt heard a thing she’d said.

She gives you THE look. A severe one that could make children cry. Good thing you aren't a child anymore.

You try not to feel too embarrassed by her obvious chiding as you rejoin the conversation.

“We were speaking about the First Hunt- there’s been many Nomura(giant man o war style jellyfish) just beyond the reef. Y/N, what is your stance on this matter?” An elder says, voice weary and weathered.

“This is not out of the norm for this time of year. All will be fine, we can set up a perimeter around the young hunters performing their rites” you nod, affirming him while not feeding into the hysteria. Elder Makiao was an anxious man after all.

“Are we sure that’s smart?” The cutting comment is made by the person you like the least.

Vaeyu is an Alpha and vetted warrior from a good family. He has high standing in the clan, and sits on your fathers council. Tall and broad, with dark ink splashed across his angular face and his meaty right arm almost blacked out with intricate tiny tribal markings.

He’s always got something to say and you sincerely wish that you could tell him to shut the fuck up.

Politics don't work that way, unfortunately. “Why would it not be smart? It is tradition, we will perform the rites as we always have, will we not?”

He nods, mulling it over, his lips pursed “Of course I would like to see them performed as they should be but we have…different members attempting this cycle. I would hate for any of our new Omiticayan friends to be put at even more of a disadvantage then they already are”

A surge of protective anger rages through you- years ago you might have lunged at him. But you’ve learned better, about controlling your own feelings. And about dealing with scum like Vaeyu.

You try to keep the appearance that you’re unaffected, for you know it will only fuel him if he can tell that he’s bothering you “I’m assuming you’re talking about Neteyam?” and you want to kill him for doing so.

“The eldest of the Forest children, yes” He goes on and really. The disrespect is dripping from his tone like venom. The fact that he hadn't even had the decency to refer to Neteyam by his name makes

“Neteyam is not a child” you speak slowly and control your tone. Not allowing your pheromones to spike with your annoyance “He’d already passed his rites back home, and is only repeating the process here out of respect”

Your father, ever observant, can see right through your attempt on staying civil and cuts through the tension with his deep timbre “She is right, he has shown nothing but competence since arriving. And from what I have seen, has excelled in training. I trust my daughter's abilities as a karyu. The boy will be given his chance as all others are”

Tonowari is cheif; he’d always given his people the freedom to question him. The openness to have meaningful conversation.

But everyone knew that directly challenging him is off limits.

“Ah. I see” Vaeyu deducts, using his sharp bladed knife to peel the skin of a fruit “Of course, Olo’eyktan. I trust your judgment. We will just have to hope he can keep up; you know the smell of blood draws those nasty creatures in”

The talks stray onto different topics and you try to get over the bitter taste left in your mouth.

You never want Vaeyu to speak of Neteyam again. If it was up to you the older warrior wouldn't even be able to look in his direction. Neteyam was too good for the likes of him.x

You’re more than happy when the man gets up and makes his leave, retreating for the night with his pregnant mate. Once upon a time the sight of his hand on her lower back and her cradling her stomach would hurt you. Now you’re just relieved as you watch them leave.

Your sister gives you a sympathetic pat on the hand.

The dinner on your plate is picked at, you can barely eat with the excitement of seeing Neteyam again bubbling. Tonight is going to be special. You’re going to give him the necklace you’ve been working on. He liked to act bashful, but you knew he loved your gifts and this one was the most important yet.

You offer Ao’nung the rest of your food, not wanting to waste, and try to make your exit.

“You have been very far away as of late”

Of course it can never be that easy.

Your mother is Tsahik for a reason. She is all knowing, with her keen eye and sharp senses, the tribe likes to say she has special Eywa given powers and you believe it. You just absolutely hate when she uses them on you.

Of course she’d notice you being off, even when you we’re trying so hard to keep it hidden.

“I am not sure I know what you mean” you feign innocence “I have been tired, and very busy, yes”

“No” she continues in that tone of hers. Her eyes that are more green than blue boring into you “That is not it. You have been distracted, and if you do not wish to tell me I will not pry, but I need you to recenter”

“Sanok-” you start with a grumble.

“During the festivities, there will be Metkayina from neighboring islands coming in. I want you to think about what we’ve spoken of, about you finding a mate this cycle”

Your ears pin to your head and you can feel your face get hot. No, she’d spoken and when you’d try to insist that you are not going to go through with an arranged marriage she’d dismissed you.

“I am not interested-”

“In performing your duty? You will be Olo’eykte, you will pass the title down to your children. You need heirs, Y/N. By the time I was your age I was already pregnant with Tsireya” Ronal softens, she can tell how uncomfortable you are but this conversation is vital “I want to give you the space to choose. There will be many eligible Na’vi, all looking to court”

You’re tense all over. By the ways she’s speaking you’d think you were an old woman and not one who had just celebrated her twenty first name day.

“Tell me that you’ll at least think about it- Tonowari, please. Help me here. This is important is it not” Your mother plays dirty and calls your father in for backup.

There is not much on Eywa’Eveng that you could deny your father. You are dedicated to him. Closer to him than anyone else.

When he speaks its gentle and encouraging “We just want you to be happy. You are at the age where you should be starting your own family, I want to meet my grandchildren”

You feel trapped, impossibly so.

Mating had been the one thing that you’d refused to surrender to your chosen destiny. Being the next Olo’ekyte could have everything else but you so deeply wanted to find someone who loved you.

You want to tell them that you think you’ve already found a mate. You’re sure your mom wouldn't like it, wouldn't think Neteyam is suitable but your father would support you. You just know it.

It’s not the time.

Instead you just not tersly “I will consider it. Am I free to go?”

“My daughter…” Tonowari frowns, wanting to reach, but keeping his hands at his side anyway.

“Please. I am tired”

Your father just nods. You dont stay around to hear the worried words your family shares.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The moons are high in the dark, star speckled night sky as you lounge in soft grass. You’d never spent much time here, in the little island forest, before Neteyam and yet now it’s become your oasis.

The hidden spot where you could come and release everything. Your fear and doubts are harbored by the trees. They’re good secret keepers.

“You’re distracted tonight” Neteyam remarks as he meets you in the meadow. It always takes him a little longer to get there, he has to wait for his family to fall asleep before he takes his leave.

“Sorry”

You try to put on a brave face, but when he lies down next to you, both of you on your sides facing on another, and places a large, callused hand on your hip you melt.

He doesn't have to say much to make you soft for him, he’s spent months tenderizing your heart.

“Talk to me” Neteyam urges softly as his thumbs rub patterns into your hip bone. “What happened?”

You close your eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by the comfort. “I’m just tired, Tey. I feel like- I can never really satisfy anyone, you know? And I try really hard to.”

He hums in understanding “I do know what that is like. Is this about your parents?”

Your silence is the only answer he needs. You, after all, are rarely ever silent.

“Back home I was going to be Olo’eyktan and while I accepted it, I was always kind of dreading it. Counting down the days until any semblance of my life being my own was over” you don't know it, but he’d never told anyone this. You listen raptly “The responsibility of making sure everyones taken care of, its alot”

You smile, because yeah. Alot is an understatement.

“I’m just letting you know that I know how it feels. Truly. And whenever you need to; we can talk about it, one eldest sibling to another” Neteyam’s kind words go straight to your head. They make you feel dizzy, so cared for and adored.

He’s what you’ve always wanted. All of your fantasies and desires rolled into one. You’re convinced that Eywa had brought him to you. Carried him to you by ikran back on the strong east wind.

You want to mate with him. More than anything, you want to bond him. Would it scare him off if you told him so? You don't want to lose what hasn't even had it’s chance to fully develop.

“I made you something” Your words seem to shock him, if only for a minute, and he groans and rolls his eyes.

“Another gift? Really, Y/N?”

“Don't pretend you don't love them” you tease as you reach for the small satchel you’d brought with you. You grab at its contents and hold it tight in your hand. You’re nervous, terribly so, as you present the jewelry to Neteyam.

This isn't like the spear, or the blanket or the fruit. For Metkayina, this is serious business.

“Oh” he says as you hand over the necklace that you’d spend countless hours working on. “It’s is gorgeous, wow”

He takes it from you and marvles at the care you’d put into it. The necklace is made of leather, and adorned with pieces of carefully polished dark blue seashells. In the center dangles a single pearl, black as night and rare. You’d shucked an endless amount of clams to find one that felt right.

“Do you accept it?” you question as his eyes trace the piece of jewelry.

“Well, I have not rejected any of your gifts yet” Neteyam jokes dryly “I’m not about to start now.”

He doesn't know then. That if he accepts it then he will be accepting your hand. That he will be agreeing to be your mate. In Metkayina tradition, he’d give you a necklace back, one that would sit right where his bite would on your delicate neck.

He requests that you help him put it on but you decline.

This isn't something to adorn tonight, if he still wanted to wear it in the cold light of day you’d be happy to help him fasten it. Once he puts it on, he can never take it off. You’re sure he isn't aware of the fact and you wont trick him- but also don't have the energy to tell him in that very moment.

“Well I can't wear it because your being weird” Neteyam starts, brows knitted “But I still wanna thank you for it”

“Thank me, huh?” you smile as you reach to pet at his braids. Sweet, sweet man.

“Mhmm” Is all Neteyam says as his hand travels from its place on your hip, down, To play with the hem of your pink skirt. It's very clear what he wants, so you roll over onto your back and spread your legs, making it easier for him to get it.

He works you out of your coverings with ease.

Your needy pussy is sticky- strings of wetness stretch between it and your tweng as Neteyam peels it off. He groans at the heady sight. His nostrils flare and his mouth waters.

“You talk so much about how good I taste” Neteyam grumbles into your skin as he presses deep kisses into the skin of your belly, sinking ever lower. Over your naval. He traces the pretty swirling ink of your tattoos, the ones that cradle your hips and lead him right where he wants most.

He mouths at that tender crease between thigh and labia “But your cunt is Eywa sent, I swear. So sweet”

You're panting, chest concaving intensely as his face disappears between your thick thighs. You feel no shame at him staring at where you’re drenched and throbbing for him. If anything you spread wider, showing him the pretty blushing insides of your light blue gash.

Neteyam dives in, nose first. His snout rubbing at your lips, inhaling your essence eagerly. You can't help but smile, happy that he loves the way you smell. That it’s reciprocated. Two of you so compatible.

When his wide tongue laps over your puffy slit, catching on your swollen nub you cry out. Your hands fly to the back of Neteyam’s head, holding onto the braids for support. Tugging ever so slightly, just on the right side of painful. You hump at his face, shoving him closer.

Neteyam’s a messy pussy eater, he dedicates his whole being to getting you off. He uses his entire face; his mouth but also his nose and his chin and cheeks. Soon enough hes completely messy, covered in your slick as he sloppily feasts on you.

“Oh, Great Mother!” you wail when he sits up a bit, hooking your thighs over his broad shoulders, before digging back in. He’s everywhere, there's not one part of your sensitive core that he’s not licked against. “Neteyam!”

When you come for the first time, it's with a violent arch of your back and a squeal. The pleasure makes you seize and shake as it washes over you in a tidal wave. Neteyam rides it out, his mouth following your arching pussy- drawing your orgasm out beautifully.

As you start to come back down, his chin is pillowed on your inner thigh and he's looking up at you with pleased amber eyes. So shy and proud of himself for being able to get you off. His face is sticky and gleaming with your cum. You never want to forget this image of him, you want to engrave this memory somewhere deep and timeless. You think that you will need to visit the Spirit Tree soon.

“Felt good?” he verifies and you grin, nodding, still coming down.

“So good, I love it when you tongue fuck me” you sigh, still spread out for him. Your pussy aches- from over sensitivity. From the need to be touched again.

Neteyam just blushes a little at your vulgar words, sometimes you forget that he’s still very new to all of this. Each time you guys are intimate, he explores a bit more of his sexuality.

He holds your gaze as his fingers begin to toy with your folds. There’s something so erotic about it all, the way that the two of you never break eye contact. Communicating silently as Neteyam rubs at your hard clit. Sharp jolts of pleasure make your hips twitch. But still, you try to be still. Encouraging his tentative touches. When his digit swirls around your hole for a moment before sinking deep your eyes roll until they close and your head presses back into the ground.

You’re meant to be filled, your body designed to squeeze around whatever enters it and not let go. It doesnt care if its a cock or fingers or tongue, your pussy is greedy.

Neteyam bites his bottom lip bloody as he watches your core hungrily eat his fingers. First one, and then two, and then before long he's pumping all there in and out of your wet snatch. A part of him wants to tuck his thumb against his palm and shove his entire fist inside-

He’s rock hard in his tweng, undulating against the ground as he watches your hips chase his hand.

“Knot my fingers” he begs over your pathetic sobs “Please, I wanna feel it.”

It’s too much.

His eager words paired with the constant perfect rhythm in which he’s pumping his digits in and out of you. It’s not hard to grant his request. You cry out as you come, again. This time, you don't stop your body from doing what it instinctually needs to. You reach down between your legs to grab his wrist, firmly pressing his hand to your pulsating pussy. If he wants to feel, you’ll let him. Your knot swells inside of you, impossibly tight, as it locks around Neteyams long fingers.

His wide eyes stare up at you in unfiltered awe as he feels you from the inside. It’s wondrous, like nothing he’s ever experienced. He feels very special in that moment, that he gets to share this with you. Very special and very fucking horny.

“Holy shit” is his clumsy, blunt response to it all. You giggle fondly and shake your head.

“Do you like it?” You inquire as you rhythmically pulse.

He groans and presses his head, his entire face into the safe plush flesh of your thigh “I do” he admits “I want to feel it around my dick so bad”

That starts a whole new round of neediness and the two of you go at it like animals under the bright moonlight, surrounded by fluorescent flora and fauna.

You’d sworn that you’d be smarter- wouldn't stay out as late so that you could go through the upcoming day a little less exhausted but by the time the two of you are done, the sky is painted pinks and purples and the morning eclipse is dawning.

You’re lying with your head pressed to his chest and your leg thrown across his both of his. You know you should get up but you don't want to make the long trek back to the village. You whine about the decided meeting spot as the two of you sit up, knowing that you need to get ready to return.

“Why do we have to go sneaking around in the bush? I do have my own Mauri, you know” you’d sassed him, as you look for your top in the grass.

“And what if someone catches me coming in and out of your place? Yeah, no. I don’t think that is a good idea”Neteyam had protested, flustered at even the thoughts . It would be so obvious.

A frown tugs at your lips at his words. “Would that be so bad?”

There's a pregnant pause before he speaks again “I mean…I thought we had agreed to keep this private. If people start seeing me sneaking in and out of your home at all odd hours it’s not going to be hard for them to put together what’s going on”

Your heart drops a bit at that, and you feel more naked than you had moments before. “What are you…ashamed of what we’re doing?”

“I’m not ashamed…I just don't want that label, Y/N” Neteyam sighs like you’re being unreasonable and it’s like ice water in your veins. “I don't want people to look at me differently because of this”

It's hard to speak around the lump in your throat “Because of what? Me courting you? Why would that cause anyone to feel differently about you?”

“It's just, it’s different for you. There are different expectations in place. You’ve done this before.-”

“As you love to remind me” the laugh that escapes you is humorless as you locate your top and slip it back on. You already feel vulnerable, there's no need to psychically be so too. “ I’ve never once held it against you or made you feel bad about being a virgin, but you constantly throw the fact that I've been with other people in my face.”

“That’s not it-” Neteyam insists as you stand, he tries to reach for you but you side step in and grab your tweng instead. He looks so lost, like he’s trying to untie the knots in his head. You know that Neteyam has a hard time transmuting his thoughts into words and usually you’re patient with him but right now? Right now you’re too hurt to wait for him to find the words to insult you with. “I dont- I dont care if you’ve been with a ton of other people, It doesn't matter to me. That’s not why I feel uncomfortable with the village knowing”

“The mere fact that you’re so eager to call it a ton tells me that it does” you're wrapping the ties of your covering around your tail and ignoring your shaking hands as emotion bubbles up violently “I’ve only ever been intimate with three people, including yourself. Did you know that, Neteyam? I’m not the huge whore that you think me to be”

Neteyam looks down at the ground shamefully. He hasn't even reached for his own tweng yet. It’s like he’s stuck, his head going a mile a minute. Too fast for his body to catch up with.

“When I told you I wanted to court you I wasn't lying. I’m not sure what that means to you, or the people back in the forest, but here it means that I see you as a potential mate. I didn't realize that you’re too embarrassed of me to see me as the same” you’re going to start crying, you can feel it.

This moment had already happened to you, years before. You’d already been rejected by someone you thought wanted you- you never thought you’d allow yourself to happen again.

Eywa, how fucking stupid can you be?

The familiar feeling is devastating. You feel soiled and used.

“If you can just be reasonable- If we can-can talk. I don't know how to make you understand that this isn't all about you” Neteyam is stuttering, finally reaching for his own tweng but you’re checked out.

How does one be reasonable when their heart is breaking?

“It’s fine. There’s nothing to talk about. I’m sorry that I misread this whole thing. My mistake.”

You’re off before he can get another word in, storming through the foliage as fast as your feet can take you. The tears that had been building only fall once you’re out of eye sight.

You can hear him calling for you, pleading for you to come back.

You leave him there, half naked in the woods.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The Iknimaya ceremony comes all too fast.

The days since you and Neteyam’s fight in the forest had all been a blur. You were too busy to focus on your fractured feelings. No one had even truly known about the two of you, so it’s as if life moves on as though it had never even happened.

That might be what’s most painful about it all.

You have duties to fulfill, and you’d like to pretend like they keep you from focusing in on that pain. You help where you’re needed- and even where you’re not. It’s left you drained and bone tired, but distracted enough to maintain.

As you and your sister get ready for the long day, she notices how sluggish you are. Dragging yourself through the motions.

“When was the last time you slept?” Tsireya asks as she watches you dress.

“I’ve been busy as of late, Reya” You take care as you ready yourself. Donning traditional Metkayinan ceremonial drab- your blood-orange tweng is intricate and the shell headpiece you wear connects with your barely there top. You brush your long midnight hair until it’s glossy and bouncing, the ends of it reaching the base of your tail as it falls down your back in waves.

You’d always had a healthy dose of vanity.

You know that you are attractive, pretty. Shockingly so, as you’d been told. Blessed with thick eyelashes and feminine features. Your whole life,many have spoken about how favored an Omega, to which you’d never taken offense. You’d inherited your mothers looks, as had Tsireya. Small. Compact. Unexpectedly vicious.

You use your looks as a weapon, just as everything else, your little sister is well aware of the fact. She knows that you’re overcompensating with appearing attractive for the fact that something has happened.

“I’m worried about you. You can try to fool everyone else, but you’re not fooling me, sister. I know that somethings wrong” Tsireya is sweet, but firm. She’d always had that air around her.

Caring yet severe. She was all Alpha no matter what people might think about her docile temperament.

“It’s not like speaking about it would change anything” you mutter, if anything, it would bring the pain front and center.

“Don’t be a coward, Ma Y/N. You know better than anyone that the only way over something is through it” Tsireya’s blunt, but without an ounce of malice.

She knows how to handle you and knows that tough love is oftentimes better than coddling like comfort when it comes to you.

It works.

“Neteyam rejected my courtship”

“You lie” she accuses in a gasp, and you just glare at her. “But- he’s so interested in you”

“Obviously not” it’s flippant. You don’t even want to meet her eyes. You’d been under that impression too.

“Something is being lost in translation here, sister. Neteyam likes you. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I can feel it everytime the two of you are around each other” your sister insists and it’s like salt in the wound.

“Sometimes things aren’t what they seem. It’s not as though this is the first time I’ve been wrong about someone’s intentions for me” the words are hard to admit and taste like acid in your mouth.

“Neteyam couldn’t be any more different than Vaeyu. The two might as well be night and day- this situation can’t be the same” Tsireya insists and you bite your tongue.

“No they’re not the same. But their feelings, or lack there of, are”

Vaeyu had never been particularly kind to you but there had been a time when you naively believed that he truly cared about you.

Before your Iknimaya, which should’ve been the first warning sign, the older warrior had courted you.

He, like Neteyam, had wanted to keep it a secret.

Vaeyu took your virginity before telling you that as an Alpha himself, he would never mate with another Alpha.

You were too much for him. Not at all a suitable mate. He’d be embarrassed to be with you…

The scene that had played itself out just nights before in the forest with Neteyam had been all too familiar.

“Just once” you start, voice shaky as you focus on holding back all the hurt you've felt “I’d like to be wanted back. Truly. By someone who sees me as I see them”

“Oh, Y/N” Tsireya breathes as she grabs your hands and holds them tightly.

You don’t have the time to weep, but it feels nice, standing in your Mauri with your sister for that fleeting moment.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The Metkayinan Iknimaya is a difficult and dangerous task to achieve.

The Akula hunt is fierce. An entire team of warriors working to bring down the wild beast. Many had died in their efforts. The massive sharks are armored with very few weak spots. They’re extremely difficult to kill.

Today would be no different. There would assuredly be some injuries- you give a brief prayer to the great mother for no casualties.

The to-be warriors line up on the shore and your mother, Tsahik Ronal, passes each. Chanting over them, and drawing a line across their face- from temple, over the bridge of their noses- to other temple, with white paint.

May the Great Mother take you into her arms. The Sea is your home before your birth, and if you should die, you will return to it in the afterlife.

You try to keep from staring at Neteyam, who’s tall and fierce and armed with the spear you’d given him.

The two of you only meet eyes briefly as he mounts his Tsurak. Right before he sets out. There’s so much unsaid and there’s no time to say it.

Instead you give him a firm nod.

You’d trained him. Had seen him in action. He could do this. You have full faith in him.

He only nods back.

The hunt makes you jittery, lights your blood on fire. You love this. Watching hunters draw first blood and make a clean kill. A primal part of you is dying to get in there. To join the fight.

It all happens in a rush- one minute the warriors are out on Tsurak back, headed for the deep. It’s harder to see where what’s going on as you stand with the crowd on the beach but you know from experience the energy filled pursuit that is going on right under the surface.

This year- it’s quick.

So much quicker than the years prior.

The crowd murmurs, almost confused, as the hunters return to the beach in record time.

They are no longer children.

Behind them, they haul the large carcass of a fully grown male Akula. Ropes secured around the body, netting and the waves helping transport with the sheer bulk of the creature. Sticking out of his left eye, perfectly launched, is the spear that you had crafted for Neteyam.

“Our hunters have returned, as fully blooded men and women of the Metkayina!”

Your father booms in pride, his warm cries whooping along the people as they join in. They’d made it back, all of them, with minimal damage. In record time. With one of the biggest catches you’d ever seen.

There’s hugs and tears. Everyone seems to be embracing one another. The pride is felt village wide and it’s a communal high.

“We will feast tonight!”Varyu cheers, and hoots follow “Tell me, who made the fatal blow? It is as clean a kill as I’ve ever seen”

You already know. You’d known since you’d seen the carvings on the wood- but the newly fledged Hunters push Neteyam forward and confirm it.

Vaeyu’s eyes almost pop out of their sockets. It’s comical to say the least.

Neteyam is humble, as he always is. It was a team effort, he claims.

His family beams at him. Jake whooping and Neytiri’s misty eyed. Lo’ak is grinning from ear to ear and Kiri and Tuk clap and cheer for their brother.You remember Lo’ak telling you about how his older brother had been the youngest in their village to ever make a clean kill. You’d been impressed then.

Right now? Right now you are stunned. So proud that you can barely speak. All of those training sessions where Neteyam had doubted his ability to adapt had paid off.

He’s a warrior, as he’s meant to be. Neteyam has reclaimed his place in the world.

Your father goes to Neteyam and places his hands on his shoulders. Beaming. “You have done well and proved yourself amongst are people. I am proud to call you Metkayina”

You want to cry. You’ve never felt such emotion. You know how much this means to Neteyam and all you want to do is go over to him and embrace him.

“As the hunter who solidified the kill, you have first choice during Fertility Season. Tell me, son. Is there anyone who you want to lay claim to?” Your father speaks of the tradition. If the kill can be traced back to a single warrior- they earn the honor of having their pick of mates.

It’s ancient, dated, and most decline. You’re expecting Neteyam to do the same.

Instead, he focuses on you.

It doesn’t feel real. This must be a dream. The docile introverted Omega you’d gotten to know would never lay a claim on you, so boldly. In public. To your father much less.

And yet, he does.

“Ma Y/N” Neteyam calls to you clear and true. He’s chosen these words carefully; they don’t stick to the roof of his mouth “I am yours if you’ll still have me.”

Only then do you notice that the black pearl necklace that you had strung together for him hangs around his throat.

A clear symbol of his acceptance of your courtship.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

I’m so sorry to end it there on that cliffhanger but guyssssss. We all know she says yes. She’s down so bad for him lmfao

To my omegaverse besties @tru-blubelle @imperihoe @tiredmamaissy and Cinetrix thanks for all of the inspiration and support!

Omega Neteyam is my fucking religion now. I swear. I’m never getting over how perfect he is. Ughhhh. Sweetest bby boi who deserves the actual world. I love writing the juxtaposition of someone who is so incredibly physically attractive- and yet so socially awkward. He really doesn’t know how gorgeous he is. People expect him to be more suave because of his chiseled features and he’s really just an introverted guy who hates being the center of attention.

Okay so lots to talk about here! I introduced some OC’s! I feel like whenever I get to read about a Na’vi OC I’m like instantly in deep because it’s such an interesting culture and they’re such an interesting people!

I adore Akemi. He’s just an all around good guy who stepped up to the plate and took Roxto in when he had no one. Akemi’s husband is also a fun colorful character and I can’t wait to introduce him to you guys in the next chapter!

Vaeyu fucking sucks lmfao I wanted to write a smarmy Na’vi for the realism of it all. He’s everything bad about Alphas. He totally groomed the reader, if that wasn’t clear enough in the story. Tonowari would have him banished if he knew about it because he’s a protective dad and also a good man who hates creeps.

If you need a visual guide to how I picture Na’vi Male Omega’s genitalia you can find that here!

And if you have any questions about my A/B/O Head Cannons or the way that I’m structuring secondary gender in this story, please don’t hesitate to ask.

Neteyam goes into heat next chapter(I had to split this one into two because it was at 18K words long) so get ready for some wild ass smut😂

Please remember that interaction is key when it comes to fanfiction! I'd love to talk to you guys! Let’s escape to Pandora together!

My Taglist for this story is currently OPEN, but full disclosure that if I take the time to give you a tag, I am going to be expecting some sort of feedback.

@thehoneymushroomhealer @persy-the-nugget @tallulah477 @sakurayuki8655-blog @cumikering @adaiasafira @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367 @akkibear @a-blog-name-2023 @weasleytwinwheezes @siimiasoi @blueslxt-primary @haji-me-mashite @mightyneteyam @kiri-tuk

#neteyam smut #aged up neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam x reader smut #omega neteyam #omega neteyam x female alpha reader #minors do not interact

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underdark-dreams · 4 months

Text

Incredibly excited to finally start releasing this into the wild!!

After my 2-part Rolan x Tav fic Good Night For Company, I really wanted to write a longer continuation of their story set in Act 3. And at last, here is the first chapter--multiple others planned! (With more romance soon to follow)

Note: this chapter explores darker themes than my usual work. I encourage you to check the AO3 tags if you have any doubts. They will be updated regularly 🖤

A Strand to Climb - Ch.1

Two very different heroes find themselves in Baldur's Gate at last. All Tav can think about is seeing a certain apprentice wizard again, but Rolan finds himself trying to push her away.

Tags: Angst, Physical Abuse, Mutual Pining | Word Count: 2,840 [Read on AO3]

Lorroakan liked to make Rolan wait.

He was a man who enjoyed toying with people, and Rolan found himself the newest and current favorite toy in the archwizard’s collection. He tipped his head back to gaze up at the criss-crossing arches in the high ceiling of Ramazith’s Tower, trying to occupy his mind away from the fatigue pooling in the soles of his feet.

Tonight’s lesson should have begun half an hour ago. He knew better than to move from his usual spot on the fine carpet, however.

Whatever Cal or Lia might think, Rolan was no blind idiot.

He hadn't gotten this far in life without a bitter skepticism about human nature. He'd filed away every rumor he heard about Lorroakan on the road from Elturel, though he hadn’t given them any weight at the time.

The revelation that the man was even worse than what he'd heard was…a disappointment, to be sure. And a complication.

But it did nothing to change his path or his determination to succeed. Apprenticeships with archwizards didn't drop out of the sky, even with ones as worthless and vapid as Lorroakan. Especially not to a student with Infernal blood.

And Rolan could be very patient when he put his mind to it. He’d waited many years to find himself standing here in Ramazith’s Tower, hadn’t he? He could survive another year or two as Lorroakan’s apprentice.

Rolan gathered the thoughts around him like armor where he stood in the center of the cavernous room, awaiting the arrival of his master.

As if on cue, the rushing portal sounded behind him as Lorroakan himself swept into the room.

“I understand my apprentice has been pawing through the merchandise.”

Entering rooms with a full sentence was another of Lorroakan’s favorite tactics. Though he expected it by now, Rolan still found himself thrown off balance by the words for a moment—no doubt their intended purpose. His mind raced to grasp what he was being accused of before he looked to his master.

Lorroakan stood on the step before him with lips drawn into the hint of a smile, an expression that didn’t reach his eyes. The man was angry.

Rolan kept his voice calm and careful. “Master Lorroakan, I should have explained. Two of Aradin’s men managed to get past the guards several nights ago, raiding for valuables. It took some time to salvage the scrolls they damaged in the process.”

“I see. And as a result, you took it upon yourself to give Klank a little upgrade, did you?”

Performing magic in the shop outside of Lorroakan’s direct orders—a mistake. “Yes, Master,” Rolan replied reluctantly.

“How clever,” said Lorroakan above him. But he didn’t sound like he thought it was clever at all.

“I know what a nuisance they’ve been to you, Master Lorroakan.”

“Don’t lie to me, boy—”

As he spoke, Rolan felt a foreign presence prodding at the corners of his mind. There were few spells Lorroakan had demonstrated complete mastery of thus far—but the ritual for detecting thoughts was certainly among them.

Rolan knew he would face a far worse punishment than whatever was coming if he resisted. Instead, fighting all his natural instincts, he let his mind’s defenses go slack.

Lorroakan’s consciousness pierced through his own, rough and careless. It rapidly shoved through his thoughts then withdrew just as abruptly. Rolan held back a wince of discomfort at the treatment.

His master’s eyes narrowed at him, that placid smile still on his lips.

"On your knees," Lorroakan instructed silkily.

As his body obeyed in silence, Rolan felt churning bile and indignant pride rise in his throat. If Lorroakan hoped all these trials would break Rolan's spirit, he'd find they were having the opposite effect.

Lorroakan’s voice was dangerously even. "Although I’ve expressly forbidden it, you decided to avail yourself of a bit of private study from the scroll stock while you were at it. Outside my wishes."

Though Rolan kept his eyes down on the carpet below, he heard the rustle of Lorroakan’s robes as he began to circle him. Like a cat with a mouse.

“Forgive me, Master,” Rolan said down to the floor. “I only reviewed the spells you’ve seen fit to instruct me in.”

A second mistake.

“Oh?” Lorroakan’s voice dripped with fresh venom. “And is my instruction insufficient?”

Yes. Completely fucking useless. “No, Master Lorroakan. I only know how short your time is with more important matters…locating the Nightsong. I hoped to perfect what you’ve taught me, to arrive better prepared for your lessons.”

Surely that was sufficient for his ego? Rolan dared to hope so as Lorroakan’s steps came to a halt in his periphery.

Without warning, the red wizard's palm connected with the soft dip of his temple.

Defenses still down from his earlier mental invasion, Rolan's body jerked sideways; he caught himself with sharp nails into the carpet. The blow rang deafening and shrill between his ears.

"—suffer insolence, boy," Lorroakan was warning somewhere above him as Rolan's hearing returned. "And put those filthy claws away. Are you a man or a beast?"

"Yes, Master," Rolan gasped, hardly knowing whether he should agree or say no. The pain in his skull overwhelmed his senses in a way that must have translated as meekness.

Lorroakan sighed, the way one might at a dear but misbehaving pet.

"Young Rolan," he tutted. "Still so willful. So much yet to learn from my wealth of knowledge. And I am generous…"

As he spoke, his polished boots moved closer into Rolan’s downturned field of vision, and Rolan felt the archmage's soft fingers under his chin guiding his gaze upwards.

This was always the very worst part. Rolan would willingly take a dozen more blows if he could avoid what came after.

Instead, he witnessed the gleam of satisfaction in Lorroakan's eyes as he examined his past weeks' handiwork on his apprentice's face—as if the sight brought him a deep pleasure that verged on carnal. Rolan's insides turned over in disgust.

"Yet even my favorite apprentice must be trained, must be disciplined." Lorroakan's words were silky soft, but his thumb and forefinger gripped into Rolan's chin with bruising force. "You'll stay to reorganize the abjuration wing tonight, alphabetically by subject."

Rolan nodded mutely, as much as Lorroakan's grip allowed. He had just finished reordering them all by title a few days ago. But what did it matter anymore?

At least his penance appeared to have cut the evening short. Lorroakan released him without a backwards glance.

As the archmage swept away toward the portal to take his leave, Rolan got to his feet as slowly as he could manage. He ran hands down his robes, hoping the scuffs on his knees would come out with some careful spellwork. This was the only set he had.

By the time he raised his eyes to look around, Lorroakan was gone. One of the metal Myrmidons shuffled aimlessly near the railing, quite harmless without its master's direction. Lorroakan controlled them, but he hadn’t created them; Rolan had gathered that early.

Alone again, Rolan let out a pent-up breath. Then he turned toward the towering case of books and scrolls on abjuration.

He'd be able to touch them, he knew, but turning a single page would result in a painful rebuke. The nerves in his right hand smarted in memory of the first and last time he'd been stupid enough to try.

Of the vast wealth of texts contained in his tower—how many of their spines had Lorroakan actually cracked open? For an archmage, he was profoundly lacking in a desire for learning, among many other qualities. The wealth of this place was wasted on one like him.

A memory came back to Rolan from the Druid's Grove, a time and place that felt several lifetimes ago now. Gale, her erudite wizard, asking him to repeat Lorroakan's name. Making those insinuations that got Rolan's hackles up in defense for his new master—and for his own judgment.

Rolan should have listened to the words from an older and clearly wiser mind.

Would it have changed anything in the end? He'd reverently carried Lorroakan's invitation with him all the way from Elturel. No matter what he heard, there was never a chance he might have walked away from the offer.

But he might feel like less of a fool.

Hot shame rose in Rolan’s throat. If only Tav and her wizard could see him now, he thought bitterly. The fresh bruise forming at his temple throbbed as if to punctuate the idea. Rolan pushed up the sleeves of his robe and set to work.

—

Though it was only her first morning in Baldur’s Gate proper, Tav found that her list of urgent tasks had grown longer than ever.

There was the spate of gruesome murders, the rival thieves’ guilds warring in the underground, the freshly ordained archduke and his formidable army of Steel Watchers. Not to mention the little problem of a godlike Elder Brain that had begun to test its weakened chains.

Tav had always thought of herself as a patient person. But these past few days, her companions all seemed to be tugging her in opposite directions. Everyone was irritable and on edge, herself included.

After Lae’zel and Astarion had nearly drawn on each other over the campfire last night—a row over what to do with the cambion’s latest offer of a deal—Tav snapped. She made the executive decision that they all needed a day away from each other to clear their heads.

Yet rather than pursue any of her many important leads, here she was loitering alone in front of the message board outside Basilisk Gate.

A good bit of it was taken up with Enver Gortash’s face, looking every bit the messiah he was definitely not. There were other notices: Flaming Fist enlistment posters, a few hand-written notes for missing persons. More likely unfortunate victims in the city’s recent murder spree.

She found her eye uselessly searching for another name altogether. It was probably stupid—did wizards usually announce their new apprentices to the public?

Just as she’d made up her mind to move on, Lorroakan’s own name caught her eye. Tav tore the pamphlet down from the board.

‘Seeking Information About the Nightsong! Report Findings to Archwizard Lorroakan, Master of Ramazith’s Tower in the Upper City, Famed and Illustrious Mage of the Sword Coast.’

Unease bloomed in her stomach. What did an archwizard want with Dame Aylin?

She turned the paper over, looking for anything besides vague details. Nothing on the notice said anything about capture or forcible delivery, but there was a reward printed in large type at the bottom of the page.

Her brows descended at the figure. Something about the size of it only increased her sense of foreboding.

Though she’d planned to make her way to Ramazith’s Tower to see Rolan as soon as she possibly could, perhaps now she had another reason to pay it a visit.

“Hey, Tav!”

She looked around at the sound of her name. Lia stood on the top step from the Basilisk Gate barracks, a slim scroll in her hand. She followed Tav's eyes to the parchment.

“Enlistment papers,” she explained, tucking them in her belt as she descended the stairs. “They’re no Hellriders, but it’s a decent job. Plus I heard some mad cult is planning to march an army down on our heads. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” Lia added with a wry smile.

Somehow Tav was relieved to hear Lia could joke about it. It lightened some of the weariness in her own chest. She hastily pocketed the reward pamphlet—though she thought Lia’s eyes followed the motion. Then she rounded to return the smile.

“Gods, is it good to see a friend,” she admitted. “How are you, Lia?”

“You mean besides the constant threat of murder and war, and the stupid comments about my horns? Alright, considering,” Lia chuckled.

Tav felt a prickle of anger. She supposed that was a common experience for Tieflings, but that only made it worse somehow.

Lia caught her mood. “Don’t worry about it. We certainly don’t. Besides, it’s loads better here than it ever was back home.”

Tav moved the conversation along. She asked after Cal—trying to avoid immediately turning the subject to Rolan. Even though her heart ached to know how he was. Rolan and his siblings had taken the direct path from Moonrise to the Lower City, no doubt reaching it weeks before her own party had made their winding way toward the gates.

Lia was clever enough to realize what she was doing. Tav’s close relationship with Lia’s older brother was anything but a secret at this point, after all. But the younger woman played along politely for the moment.

When they were all out of other topics to catch up on, Tav did her best to sound as casual as possible. “How’s our brilliant apprentice getting along?”

Lia’s face changed at the question. Her brow flew into a scowl, and the muscle in her jaw tightened.

“I don't talk to him about it anymore,” she snapped.

Tav blinked in surprise, but the feeling was quickly replaced by concern. “What is it?”

Lia looked around for a moment, as if worried someone might be listening to overhear. She moved down a few steps to stand with arms crossed beside Tav.

“Look…Rolan’s proud,” she said in a low voice. “You know that well as I do. He won't ever give me or Cal a straight answer about it. But Tav, seriously? I'm not sure he's been taught a damn thing yet. Rolan always gets upset when me or Cal come by the Sundries. Like he’s scared of someone seeing us there. And every time I’ve been in, Lorroakan’s got him working the stupid counter instead of studying. And his—”

Tav was hanging on every word by the time Lia abruptly cut herself off. The two of them shared a long look.

“I don't think he’s treating Rolan well,” Lia told her. Her nails dug into the fabric of her sleeves. “I know he isn't.”

“Not treating him well how?” The concern had grown to a snake of worry coiling through Tav’s insides.

Lia’s hands continued fidgeting over her arms. She glanced away behind the curtain of her hair, as if regretting how much she'd said.

“Listen, just—just go talk to Rolan. Please? You should hear it from him. If he won't listen to us, maybe he’ll listen to you. Don't think he could ever tell you no,” Lia added with a weak smile, an expression that was more pained than anything.

An ominous feeling swirled around in Tav’s brain, muddling the tail end of their conversation. Her head nodded along automatically as Lia gave an invitation to her and Cal’s flat in Heapside Strands, but her ears barely caught the street name.

Once Lia had given her a quick one-armed hug and departed, Tav stood hardly knowing where she was. A Flaming Fist jostled past her shoulder from the barracks with a backwards comment about loitering in byways.

She hardly heard the man. Her mind was filled with images of Rolan; proud, hopeful, excited for his future. Had this Lorroakan done something to spoil the dream he’d fought so hard to achieve?

As Tav’s hand brushed against the reward pamphlet in her pocket, the fingers there clenched into a fist. The other closed tight around the hilt of the longsword resting in her scabbard.

Whatever it was, something was wrong here. Very wrong. She was tempted to march straight into Sorcerous Sundries, find Rolan, and demand the truth out of him. And if he put on his stubborn act, she could think of a few very pleasant ways to get honest answers from his lips.

But what if he was somehow in danger from this archwizard?

That thought brought her up short. Lia’s voice before had held a hint of fear; not an emotion she’d know Lia to express lightly. Perhaps rushing into the situation blind would risk causing Rolan more harm than good.

Tav felt her pulse pound at the thought of putting him in danger. She let out a breath, trying to clear her head of the tangle of emotions. None of them would help her make a sound decision. As much as she might want to, she shouldn’t go racing off straight to Ramazith’s Tower.

And she shouldn’t go alone. If some kind of trouble was waiting there—increasingly likely when she considered Lorroakan’s cryptic interest in the Nightsong—she would need her companions with her. And they were currently spread out gods-knew-where across the city.

Though her heart fought against it, the logical choice was clear. The wisest course would be to leave this for tomorrow.

In the morning, they would pay a visit to Ramazith’s Tower…and Tav would finally get the measure of this archwizard for herself.

#rolan x tav #cw: abuse #angst #tw: abuse #bg3 rolan #rolan bg3 #mutual pining #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic #tav x rolan #lorroakan is a bastard and he will be dead soon #sage and soldier

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undercoverpena · 1 year

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iii. file room + accusations

javier peña x dea! f!reader | chapter three of nowhere to run

Summary: Determined to do it better this time, Javier Peña returns to Bogotá to take down the Cali Cartel. With a new promotion, office and team, what he doesn’t expect is the pretty thing outside his office—or why they’re not allowed in the field. chapter warnings: season three narcos spoilers, no use of y/n, flirting to the highest level. wordcount: 5.8k an: thank you for your patience, none of this chapter existed three days ago, but i think it was necessary for how... spicy the next one will be. as always, a huge thank you to @guyfieriii who let me hammer this idea out with her, and @yeyinde who fills me with absolute confidence to take this on.

“You have fun last night?”

Stirring your cup, you turn your head. “We went for one drink—”

“Are you fucking Van Ness?”

You throw the spoon into the sink, glaring—full of poisoned accusation, hoping it stings, hoping it bites.

Chris has always been a little jealous, and a little bitter. But this side of him, the side grown from the decay of what once was…

“Believe it or not, people of the opposite sex can just be friends.”

“Like we were?”

You scoff, almost going to grab your coffee when his hand touches your wrist.

“Sorry… that was,” Chris sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he closes his eyes. “I’m sorry, alright?”

“You’re being an asshole.”

“I know.”

Leaning back on the counter, you stare at him. The man you used to share a bed with, cook with, sleep with—finding yourself unable to recognise him. The same amount you barely were able to recognise yourself these days.

“Just because we went for a drink, doesn’t mean I fucked him. I don’t fuck people just because they buy me drinks, if anything, I fuck them in spite of buying me things.”

Lowering his hand, he opens his eyes. “I know… I just…”

You motion to move, hearing his words die as you hold his gaze. “Do us both a favour, Chris, get over us or stop trying to be my friend.”

It was a last-minute decision to get you coffee.

A thought which nestled until it bloomed and spread itself over all the others. You’d been on his mind, likely put there because of his dreams.

Javi had become so used to the smoky blend of violence and regret in his nightmares, it caught him by surprise long after he awoke that something good had been trying to form. Something with a sly smile that had slowly been driving him wild and a pair of eyes he saw even when he blinked.

His bed creaked as he stretched, shoving the leftover hold of sleep from his muscles.

He turns over how you’d not seemed like yourself yesterday. How quiet you were, how distant. You’d made two visits to his office, both for actual work purposes. He’d thought of asking, of questioning—but each time he’d found himself about to, you had a visitor at your desk.

As time had ticked on, the night bludgeoning the day, he’d watched as you packed up your things, met by one of the other agents—tall and dark-haired—pulling a short laugh from you.

He spent the next hour buried in case files just so he wouldn’t focus on the sound. And how he hadn’t pulled that same sound from you all day.

Now, as streams of sunlight flicker through his curtains, he reaches for his lighter and cigarettes. About to light one, a thought appearing and growing—rotting and festering in the empty space he’s carved for you.

Maybe you’re his delayed punishment.

His price to pay for what he did last time he was here. He thinks of you more than he does others—more than he has done with others.

You are a torture, a thing put here in front of him as something he could have once, and never again. A reminder of it each time you sway into his office. How he’d tasted you, he’d felt your curves and heard your pretty noises. Now only for him to be locked in a prison of his own making because of it.

Because he’s forever interrupted by phone calls, meetings and whatever else life has—and will—throw his way.

As he takes a drag, the point and thought cements itself further, because Javi doesn’t dream.

He relives nightmares and what-ifs, but he rarely ever dreams. Yet, there you were, smiling, pulling him from a nightmare into something more pleasant he didn’t want to wake from. You who hadn’t even fully formed, a shadow, an outline at best, but you’re there, he can tell. All pretty and sharp-tongued—not that he’s heard dream-you even speak, but he knows.

Knows about the same amount as he knows he should turn the water in the shower a bit colder. Should let it sting his chest from how icy it is, trying to cage the thoughts of you he shouldn’t have.

Because there’s a lesson to be learnt about shitting when he’s eating—and he’s already failed it twice.

So, he lets his chin dip to his chest as water cascades down his neck, letting freezing droplets smother any chance of warmth. Because even if he shouldn’t, even if he couldn’t—technically—you’re in his head.

Secretly, he blames you. Blames each quick retort you’ve had and each flirtatious sentence which continuously hangs in the air longer than anything else.

Mainly, he blames you for the things you’re not at fault for. Like your smile, your laugh and the way you tap your pen on the desk when you’re lost in thought.

That softer smile is the one in last night's dreams. Embedding itself firmly in the few hours he’s managed to catch in a while. The edges of it are genuine, exactly like it was in person—looking as much like it was born and not willed, as he’s seen in the flesh. You owe me a coffee. He thought about it as he lay in his sheets, again when he lit his first cigarette and on repeat in the shower.

It’s why he buys you one—it’s cemented in his thoughts.

Front and fucking centre.

By the time he makes it to work, his forehead is slightly slick with sweat. Barely noticeable to most, he supposes, but he feels it. His determination to catch you before the rest filter in, able to confidently present you with your inside joke right at your desk.

It would mean he’s the instigator. It would mean he’d see you taken back, rendered silent for fucking once.

Because normally, it’s you doing that to him. You and your quick wit make him roll his tongue around his mouth as he tries to control his body.

Usually, he was in control. He was the one making others stupid over him—it’s different being on the other side. More so when he catches sight of himself in the reflection of the glass door, the smirk large and proud on his face.

All because of fucking you.

And then, you’re not at your desk.

His tongue pokes into his cheek as he inwardly kicks himself, heart descending down to his stomach—thumping against nothingness and last night's whiskey.

He contemplates binning them as he moves past the desks. Throwing it before someone sees him with two coffees and a piece of fruit. Annoyance spreads like a wildfire through him, singeing the edges of muscles and bones. It layers, landing firmly on top of the shit from Cornerstone, the conversation with Stechner and—

He sees you.

Like the sun which bleeds through clouds on a rainy day; like a torch through thick, sullen darkness. There you are.

Able to see you clearer and clearer on his approach, until he’s peering through his open door, spotting you on your knees, head bent. There’s an array of paper around you, placed out in a semi-circle on his office floor, an empty file box discarded close to the door. You don’t notice him, still fixated on whatever it is that has you in his office.

You don’t even lift up when he’s at the doorway, casting a shadow over the papers.

“You’re in early.”

Smirking, he leans against the doorway, watching you shift a paper to the side. Remaining bent over, finger tapping in a rhythmic pattern against a page closest to your hand.

“And you’re in my office, cariño.”

He expects you to look up, even if just your eyes. You don’t.

Another notch adding to the enigma that is you. The mystery, the hard-to-read and understand puzzle that is currently on your knees.

“I needed the space.”

“For?”

That’s when you lift your head, sighing—if only to yourself—before slowly standing. You don’t groan, and don’t let out a noise as you do, shifting your trousers so they fall as they’re supposed to. Then, you’re awkwardly stepping over your pile as you come to stand beside him.

“Personal project—that for me?”

You take it before he can confirm it, taking a large gulp of it, filling the air with a groan. A sound which tugs something inside of him, even if your eyes remain fixed on the mess on his floor and not him.

It’s childish—almost like he was back in school. Staring at the pretty girl until she notices him. But you are pretty, and fuck does he wish you’d notice him.

“Thanks.”

Something sinks.

He’s not sure what, but it’s in his chest.

Somehow, foolishly, he’d expected a little more from the gesture. The fact you’d been more grateful when he’d returned a pen, than grabbing you coffee. That, and your eyes barely meet his, continuing to turn something over in your mind as you take another sip.

It’s silent, your silent—outside of the occasional sighs you let escape.

Realistically, he knows you’re not being your usual self because you’re likely doing your job—something in the short span of time he’s known you, he knows you do well. But, it feeds into that… feeling. The one he woke up with when you’d left. Rejection.

Something he’s experienced before—been through. Yet, never really learnt how to handle it.

How often are you told no, Peña? Rarely. I can believe that. You want another drink? Can’t say no, can I?

It rattles him more because it’s you. You who has made him do things like this. He wanted to make you smile, wanted to show you that he fucking listened.

Even if you confuse him. Bouncing from one minute flirting with him as he tries to be decent, fighting the feeling of the beads of sweat collecting on his collar. The next you’re staring through him as though you’d rather skin him than fuck him.

He can’t say any of that, not as he massages his inner cheek between his teeth. Eyes staring at the pages, noticing the manilla case files poking out underneath all the stark white papers.

He’s itching to get closer. To read the number on the side strips, see what it is that has stolen your attention.

Instead, he nudges you. Watching as you lift your chin in his direction. Your eyes are the last to rise from the floor. Your face all blank and expressionless—appears as if you’re awaiting instruction from him for something. He sees the circles under your eyes, the rest of your face devoid of anything he can dissect. It almost feels as if he’s trying to read the wall, rather than a person who has made him copious cups of coffee.

“You need me to move?”

He snorts, if only to himself. “No. But you’re quiet...”

Shooting him a short nod, you offer a forced smile. “Sorry.”

He feels something knot, something which makes it hard to take a step back and turn away from you. Something urging him to push, to keep standing there, even if he would get more from the water cooler.

“Hey… you good?”

You eye him, brows narrowing ever so slightly. “Yes. Of course...”

He nods. “Good. Okay, good.”

You turn more to face him, frowning as you try but find yourself unable to discern whatever it is you’re looking for—not that he knows what you’re searching for.

He’s confused, prickled—tense. But nothing else.

“Did you think I wouldn’t be or something?”

You seem upset. Distracted.

That’s what he wants to say. Wants to try and unpick the reason for your sharper gaze, raised shoulders and the almost box of files on his office floor.

Likely would if it didn’t allow you to know that he watches you, even through the blinds. That he knows these little things, the small shifts in your otherwise carefully constructed set of walls and barriers to keep everyone out.

“I expected you to give me more shit… about the fruit, the coffee. Be difficult.”

You smirk, leaning as you run the cup under your nose. “I can be difficult if you need me to be, sir.”

Your smile slowly spreads, more teeth than you’ve shown—more laid-back. It stretches from your cheeks to your eyes. His tongue runs across the front of his teeth, watching it, how it illuminates and lights every part of you.

“Somehow, I bet you can be.”

Shrugging, you take a sip from the coffee again—eyes narrowing ever so slightly at the taste.

He did good, he thinks. Knowing you likely won’t admit it, acknowledge it—

“This is good…”

He feels his brow rise, wiping his bottom lip. “Yeah?”

“Almost as good as you… sir.”

You watch him, make sure it lands. Watch it spread. Likely enjoying the show too. He can’t hide it, not quick enough to mask it. Not that he really puts much effort into trying.

It’s futile, a waste of energy and time.

He’s even sure you hear him inhale and whisper the word fuck as your phone rings.

“I’ll tidy this up in a minute, excuse me.”

Then you’re gone. Leaving him with your words and perfume, hearing the distinct sweet and, most innocent voice.

A voice which didn’t fit or follow what you had just said.

He’d never thought Messina’s job looked fun, but he never realised how unbearable it must have been.

Javi’s head throbs from it.

All of it. The meetings about meetings, the bureaucracy which wraps ropes around his throat and the fact—even if he’s not in the room—he can feel Stechner breathing down his neck.

Something pulses more so when he meets your smirk-smile. The one he was robbed of enjoying yesterday, but today has got it in plenty. He puts it down to the coffee, not the possibility he heard you went out for a drink with another agent last night.

Fresh air washes over him as he steps out of the building. The stuffy boardroom air uncurling itself from his suit as the grey, cloudy day hangs around him. Normally, he finds the humidity tiresome, but today it greets him like a friend. A better friend than pompous air breathed by men who want an easy win, than fight the actual fight that’s necessary.

It’s habit again now, lighting a cigarette, even if he had tried to quit. His fingers hover the cigarette close to his lips, watching the end sparkle with orange and yellow as he releases his shoulders from around his ears.

Bad habit, that. So are you. You don’t mean that, sir.

Taking the longest drag, he lets it fill his lungs.

Hearing your voice call him sir, it is always faintly there—a callback, a reminder. A tease.

He didn’t mean it, you’d been right. Didn’t mean it so much at all. Even if you were bad and a habit, you weren’t a bad habit.

Javi kept thinking about that night, and the ones he could have enjoyed after. Thoughts of taking you back to his and seeing how many times he can make you call his name; whether you’d beg him in that same way, please, Javi, please.

It’s taken all of his strength not to act on it.

Something to prove fizzing inside of him, blending with the taste and scent of tobacco which bleed across his senses. It slowly undoes each tendril of stress, unknotting each tense muscle, allowing the briefest second of calm—of peace—to wash over him.

Sex did that too.

Sex, whiskey and smokes did it all together. A perfect blend—one which had kept him going for longer than he cared to admit before.

He didn’t smoke the night he fucked you. Hadn’t even realised he hadn’t until he smoked this one—acknowledging there’s a deeper meaning there, but unwilling to unfold it.

No good came from digging inside himself, not now. Not when his walls are painted in red shame and bitter regrets.

He’d thought things were easier then.

Before, when he didn’t have people answering to him, and he had a partner. He had a person to share a desk space with. Now, he’s behind glass—placed on a mantle, eyes looking up to him when they should be looking down. The pressure nipping at him, the smoke swirling up to his nose as he hovers the cigarette on his lip.

It’s at the last minute he catches the blonde woman coming closer, more into his view. Right in his peripheral. “Can I get one of those?”

Her non-embassy attire catches him off guard, before she introduces herself. Eyes raking up and down her, unsure where he knows her from—where he’d place her. Something, that voice he continuously ignores, firing and chirping, but he does what he always does.

Javi should have known. He’s trained to be better. Expected to do better.

Churning her name, the newspaper she works for in his head as he lets his smoke dangling from his lip. Already waiting, expecting. She was a reporter, she’d have questions. More than asking him for a cigarette and more than a simple chat about the weather.

Then it falls from her tongue. Acidic, purposefully chosen to knock him—to bother him.

It does. Especially because she casually throws them his way. Him left feeling them figuratively land and bruise as she did. Each accusation not spoken, feels sharper and more painful than the previous, his cigarette doing nothing to stoke the rising shame and annoyance.

If anything, it just covers it in tobacco smoke and a bitter taste.

“Have a nice day—”

“Have you heard much about the Cali accident? Four more people dead. Children. Dozens more sick.”

The reporter's words swirl, peck and dig into him further. His sharp response is not close to the one he wants to give: I cannot get involved. His place here is tied securely to his behaviour. One wrong step, one misfortune, and he’s sure he’ll be back in Texas. Having accomplished nothing, once again.

“Looks like you said, it was an accident.”

The lie falls from him before he can pull it back. Knowing she doesn’t believe him—he doesn’t even believe himself.

She snorts, half-laughing in mockery. “By the end of the day, it will be. No matter what the truth is.”

The itch inside of him worsens when she turns from him. Fingers rolling against his palm, making him wish he’d finished his cigarette irrespective of the questioning and insinuations. The imaginary rope that ties his hands behind his back, constricting, stinging.

His palm meets his forehead, rubbing against it as he heads in. Feet carrying him, body moving—

He needs you.

You who he could vent to, ask, merely fucking speak to. You who’d likely see through his bullshit and know something is wrong. You who he suspects understands, for reasons not highlighted in your report or in any file. Who stared into his eyes in that bar and made him wonder what hell you’d been through for the vengeance to live so prominently in your eyes.

He comes to a stop, blinking as he lands on you, glaring into Feistl.

The two of you huddled close, engaged in a discussion that didn’t look all too friendly. Your eyes gave it away, the forced smile confirming it. So much of your thoughts flitted across your face when you weren’t careful—and usually, you were careful.

That’s something he learnt quickly. That you’re secretive, cautious, meticulous.

When he blinks, he watches you say something before walking away before it’s fully landed. His jaw tightens, almost cracks. Eyes fixed on the back of the other agent, unable to tear his eyes away, watching you throw something in the sink, mutter something and storm in the other direction.

He shouldn’t care.

He’d learnt to avoid problems between couples with Connie and Murphy. He supposes it’s even more important to stay out of it when they were exes. Ones who worked closely with one another, shared office space and breathed the same air.

He does care.

It’s the only reason why he waits, almost reaching his office before he turns on his heels and heads in the direction you’ve gone.

With each step, he swipes his index finger over the pad of his thumb, unsure what he’s going to say. What he’s going to do. Thrumming with annoyance from the outside; protectiveness swirling with a bunch of other unresolved feelings inside of him.

It makes no sense—none of it. Yet the door squeals in protest as he shoves it open.

Dropping your hand from your face, your eyes greet him instantly—the door barely back in its frame before you’ve hidden how wide and surprised they were.

He doesn’t speak, but neither do you.

And then, slowly—as though they were the physical embodiment of your walls coming down—your arms folded and your eyes narrowed. All he did was simply fucking stare, all he could do.

There’s nothing he can say. Not that would make any sense—not to him, or to you. So, he allows the heaviness of the conversation outside and the annoyance that had grown in its place, to slowly dissipate as he stares and breathes, letting you do the same.

The tension thickens. Almost softly simmering between the two of you.

There’s no music thrumming this time, no alcohol to blame for the kinder expressions and wider grins. He just focuses on trying not to pay attention to it, but in the smaller space, it’s harder to ignore. It sits there grinning with its shiny teeth, its mocking behaviour taunting him, as he wonders if it’s the same for you.

And then, you smile as if you can read his thoughts. It's instant, the way it smothers other emotions. Dilutes them, makes his tongue run across his teeth as he lets the stress melt from his shoulders and back.

“I know what you’re gonna say?”

Looking at the floor, you snort. “I doubt that.”

“It’s none of my fucking business, right?” he adds, your eyes staring at him through your brows. “But, it looked heavy and I needed to ask—wanted to ask.”

“I’m fine.”

He gnaws at other words. Deciding quickly against them, swallowing them back, and switching to the next set of things he could say.

“You told me you’d take the mountain of shit for me—hold the walls up. Remember?”

“Faintly.”

Lie, he thinks. It flutters across your face, the acknowledgement, how easily you’re able to recall it. He takes that as his invitation. Stepping closer, he watches as you unfold your arms.

“Who does that for you, cariño?”

Your mouth—so usually the quicker one out of the two of you—clamps shut. Any quick remark fizzling into nothing as your chest rises and falls significantly, likely all from a silent sigh.

“I promise I’m—“

“Don’t lie,” Javi adds, interrupting you. “Not to me.”

Please, he thinks. But, he keeps that silent request to himself—even if it’s likely he’s spelling it with his eyes, his softer expression.

You shift, eyes fluctuating between softening and sharpening. As if unsure whether to let him in—and be honest, trusting—or ruin him. He just hopes it's the former. Feeling it—that something which thrums in the air whenever he’s around you. The thing he’d rather bury than confront.

Even if he likes being near you. Likes how you make him coffee, visit his office and tell him things he already knows. Just to be near you. To make sure you’re okay because you so often make sure he is.

Your eyes narrow. “What’s happened?”

“What?”

Tilting your head, you sigh. “You went out for a smoke—“

“How’d you kn—“

Smirking, you lick your lips. “You’re not the only one with a pair of eyes, Peña. What. Happened?” Blowing out air, you shake your head. “I’m not stupid—”

“—I don’t think you’re—”

“And, you want me to tell you things, and you can’t even tell me what happened outside to make you this riled up.”

He lets you have that one. Nodding gently, running his hands through his hair as he contemplates it—telling you. Informing you of it all. How Martínez doesn’t trust him, that the reporter outside…

Looking up, he stares at you.

You are the face of ruination. Your eyes able and powerful enough to bring him to his knees. Already unspooling him, having dug under a layer he’s never allowed many others.

So he decides against sharing, instead smirking.

Not for reasons such as him not trusting you, but because this isn’t about him. It was always about him. You made it about him, whenever you fucking could, just like it had been before. Back when he had Steve, when he made catching Escobar about him. When he convinced himself he was doing what was right.

He’d do it again—parts of it, anyway. But he still wanted this to be different, to be better, to be—

“How y’sleeping?”

You blink, almost wincing from surprise. “Fine.” “Don’t lie.”

“How do you know I’m not sleeping?”

Swiping his thumb across his bottom lip, he shrugs. “Because I know I don’t. More here, than I did in Texas. But… not like before. Nothing close to the hours I got before Escobar.”

He watches your eyes widen at his name. The one he so rarely says, even when questioned.

The one which makes a muscle in his chest tighten when he hears the name, fighting to not let the guilt and shame run through his blood at the mere mention.

“I know I have no idea what you went through. But, I’d get it—try to, at least.”

It flashes like a rainstorm over your face. The heaviness of the clouds and then the downpour—and before he can get an umbrella out, it’s over. Javi isn’t quick enough to work out each expression. Not sure if he’s miles off or so close to the thing unravelling you, that he’s rendered you silent.

You roll your lips, before whispering, “I don’t sleep either.”

He blinks, staring at you as you try to force a smile and he moves closer.

Like the two of you are being drawn together, pulled. It is all another dance, one without music, a beat or lyrics, and yet, you lift your hand to his cheek. Some words forming, that never appear. A different expression cracked over the former, one that he wasn’t sure he'd seen before.

He tries to paint it, carve it into a space so he can unpick its meaning later—knowing how quick you are to wipe your canvas clean. But, your eyes flick over him, looking for something as he slides a hand over your hip, feeling you hunting. He feels the warmth stroke from his eyes to his lips, and back again.

The thread, the one which had begun being sewn between the seats at the bar, was tightening and it tugged the two of you closer and closer, until he felt you—your lips.

You’re kissing him.

Hands pressed on both sides of his cheeks as you brought his mouth down to yours. Devastating him, ruining him all over again. Everything about you is intense. Consuming. Spanning over him and tugging him under in thick waves he’s not sure where they came from.

All he can focus on is how good it feels to kiss you again.

How soft your lips are, how he didn’t take the time to appreciate it before. How today you’re a mix of sugary lips and a bitter coffee tongue.

He guides you, moving you behind the shelves—more out of view, the softest huff escaping your lips when your back meets the shelving. One he captures and stores, holding it closely as he pulls you tighter against him. Almost desperately so. You scorch yourself against him, hoping to leave something on him you’ll be able to see—something he welcomes. Some proof that you’re not too far out of reach as he groans at the sensation of your nails scraping through his hair and your mouth burning against his.

It’s messy, disorientating—but, so are you.

His tongue licking up into your mouth, hearing the discernible sound of a moan smothered by both your mouths as the shelving creeks when your spine presses against it.

It’s natural, well-versed—like it was in his place. His thigh slotting between both your legs, hearing his name leave your lips in a whimper, all wrapped inside of a groan that has been born somewhere deep in your throat.

Then it turns slower, gentle, languid. His head swimming in you, and only you. A hand up your spine curling you closer; your hand sliding from his hair and cheek to his neck.

“Cariñ—“

The squeal of the door yanks the two of you apart.

His heart hammers, fucking thunders as your back flattens to the shelves, his feet making him step back—hidden behind more shelving.

Someone from the doorway yells your name, not a voice he’s familiar with.

They’re sharp, gruff, far enough away to not know, but if they stepped in the room…

Javi is sure anyone could walk in and they’d feel the tension. More so convinced when he glances down your frame, seeing buttons undone and exposed, soft, kissable skin.

You must feel it. The way he looks at you. Your mouth shouting back you’d be there in a minute as nervous, shaky fingers try to button yourself.

In typical fashion, you shoot a sharp glare at him. One he’d already been expecting. One he knows you don’t mean.

They’re not like the ones he endured when he first met you. It wasn’t the glare that made him almost beg for forgiveness. This glare was a ‘we almost got caught, idiot’ stare. One he feels no guilt about as he waits in your silence, hearing the door once again close.

“We can’t do this.”

He moves, stepping back in front of you, leaning both hands on the shelves—caging you in, keeping you close. Not allowing you to wriggle away. “Well, we can’t do this here.”

It crosses his mind it could be too much. He could be being too much.

That it was fine at the bar, at his place. That it’s fine with the flirting, but anything more is overstepping. Then Javi sees the glint—the soft twitch of your right lip before he feels hands slide around his neck. Keeping him as close as he’s keeping you.

“Peña.”

“Cariño.”

You smirk, fingers sliding down his chest, not breaking eye contact with him. “Thought you were trying to be decent.”

“Told you I was doing a poor job of it.”

It’s less a smirk, and more a smile now. Soft on the edges, almost warm. Something he wishes to bottle. If only to keep the feeling he has bubbling in his chest when he spots it. When you allow him to see past curled lips and sharper words.

“Let me take you for a drink.”

You smile, playing with his tie. “You don’t have to buy me a drink to fuck me. This isn’t transactional. You don’t have to find a way to pay me to be around you.” Your eyes flip up, cutting into his, letting his thoughts run wild as you slowly roll your lips. “Plus, I want to.”

“Want to what?”

You trace your bottom lip with your tongue. “Fuck you.”

Letting go of his tie, you wink.

“I did tell you earlier, you’re more than half-good. Are you really that surprised I’d want another round with you?”

Moving from him, walking around the files until he hears the door squeal and slams back into place. Slowly raising his hand, massaging his forehead.

Staying in the file room for an impossibly long-time. An amount appropriate to how hard you’d gotten him, to how long it took him to will it away with thoughts of case file boxes and catching narcos.

It’s hours until he gets a sight of you, watching you poking your head in his doorway. The afternoon having firmly gone, blanketed instead by the night.

“Hey,” you say, leaning against the frame.

You look worn, more tired. Whatever had stolen you from your desk seemingly having taken the last shreds of caffeine and willpower you had been running on.

He also notices you’re wearing your coat, bag already in hand. He doubted it was an invite to leave with you.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to go try and grab that thing you mentioned.”

Leaning back into his chair, he lets his brow rise. Feeling it curl up his face as your smile seeps into your cheeks and eyes.

“Sleep, Peña, I’m going to go try and get some sleep.”

“Afraid you’d enjoy your tenth cup of coffee or something?”

Licking your lips, you roll your eyes. “Eleventh. I had the tenth after… we organised the file room.”

“That’s what we’re calling it?”

Shaking your head, he smiles.

Natural, easy. Like it’s the most normal thing Javier Peña can do, when he never fucking does it. When it’s been so long since the last time, he can’t actually find a time with much ease.

“We’re okay, aren’t we?”

Leaning on his elbows, digging them into the paper covering the wood, he has to nod. “Thought that was my line.”

There are plenty of women he’s had a nice time with, plenty that he’s had a great time with. Some he’s liked going back for more, others he never has. But it’s rare he has a good time when both sets of clothes are on. Rare when it’s in an environment like this, flooded in fluorescence and weighed down by expectations.

Smiling, he taps his desk. “We’re good, cariño. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Peña… you should…” you begin to say, standing a little taller as you glance at his desk, slowly pointing to something near the top of the pile. “He’s a good agent. Thorough. Just take a look at what he’s done. Ch—Feistl, he wants to do a good job. He cares a lot, too. So, just consider it… even if you do so because I make you coffee and am extra nice to you.”

He stares, confusion wrapping around words he won’t speak. Because he’s not sure how someone can be so nice about a person they keep bickering with only earlier. A person he’s pretty sure you called an asshole if his lip reading was up to scratch.

“If you get some sleep, I’ll look over it, sure,” he smirks.

You nod, lifting up from the doorframe—he expects you to leave, but you linger.

Pretty eyes drink him in, looking close to how they did in the file room, and it takes all of his willpower to not cross the room and kiss you again. It would be easier too, to stop fighting and give in.

But he doesn’t, afraid if he does, it would be the last time. Somehow, unsure if he could allow himself to have nice things, never mind actually having them.

Glueing his feet to the ground, he feels you break eye contact. Allowing him to capture his full breath.

“Try to get some yourself—sleep that is. Maybe we can be less difficult with one another that way.”

He laughs, watching you turn on your heels as he leans to grab the file. Listening to your shoes getting quieter, until he’s left with his thoughts and the low mumble of the television.

He spots your handwriting first, words left on your usual lined paper so similar to the ones you’ve just spoken. Then he opens it, finding tabs along certain pages—ones he knows aren’t there from Feistl but you.

It’s only as he reads, as he goes between messy writing and typed-up words, does he see what you mean. Does he begin to see the beginning of something.

It turns the cogs, and lets them twist—something forming until he’s standing.

Then the television catches his eye, hand quick to grab the remote as he turns it up. He feels his stomach drop, parts of the formed idea beginning to solidify as other parts begin to crumble.

…After a thorough investigation, we’ve reached the conclusion that the Yumbo chemical exposure was caused by a faulty valve in a natural gas line in the area…

chapter four ->

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javi peña x reader #javi peña x you #javi peña x f!reader #javier peña narcos #javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena #narcos x reader #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #mm: nowhere to run #javier peña fanfiction #javi peña fanfiction #javi peña narcos #narcos javier x reader #narcos javier

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justrandomthoughs · 1 year

Text

Yandere HOTD Most to Least Violent

Daemon, Aegon, Aemond and Jacaerys

Tw: Death, Sexual Violence, Physical Violence, Unhealthy Behavior, swearing (by me—sorry!)

Daemon

Has committed war crimes

Murdered first wife & chocked Rhaenyra (like damn dude)

Overall pretty bloodthirsty

Will get his hands dirty hurting you or others

Will also order for killings instead of doing them himself

Also very possessive of you

So that usually ends poorly for other parties

Aegon

A rapist, so little regard of what you or others think

Might get his hands dirty but more likely to order killings

Definitely physically abusive, he just doesn’t know how to express emotions and he doesn’t really care too since he likes the thrill of power it gives him to make others afraid of him

Possessive as well, and willing to kill, but it's more about would he care enough to actually execute his plans—he’s lazy and rather be indulging in other things, like you

Aemond

Has now committed a war crime (though technically it was granny dementia), it’s a slippery slope people. I expect that there will be more to come.

More than willing to dirty his hands by beating the shit out of someone who he takes as a threat to your relationship, or to you. Would also kill them if it isn’t going to cause too much of an uproar. Would also probably maim them in a way if he can’t kill them, just to leave a permanent reminder to not cross him

Unlikely to really hurt you on purpose. The most he’d ever do is a face slap/medium shove. For sure he’d drag you around by your wrist harshly if he’s in a bad mood.

He’s aggressive with his movements but he doesn’t want to hold back his emotions from you, even if it hurts you a bit at times—bruising grips, tugs, thrusts, kisses, bites, hickeys

Might be into impact play but thinks of it as more of a punishment

Doesn’t want to leave anything truly permanent or to make you scared of him

But if it’s already too late and you hate him I think he’d be a bit more violent out of anger/impatience

Possessive, obsessive, protective, so there’s always a reason someone is on his shit list when it comes to you

So, frequent violence to others ‘threatening’ you two and minimum violence against you—if things are all good and you like him. If you hate him and things are NOT going well in the Aemond department, he’s more callous with how he treats you and more tolerant of using violence to make you stay in your place

Jacaerys

Pretty quick to temper when it comes to protecting you, unlikely to really kill anyone though but he will beat the hell out of them

He won’t do it too often though as you aren’t regularly trash talked/disrespected. He made to ensure that with the first couple of takedowns

Jace is hesitant to use violence unless it can be covered up as a chivalrous act

Like beating the shit out of someone who disrespected your honor with accusations or rumors

In cases like that it’s a split-second decision, he’s on them.

Challenges to duels, participates in tourneys, fighting for your favor

All violent actions that he’d do in a heartbeat for your honor

If he can’t beat them up, like ladies or servants, I think he’d try to make their life hell

Subterfuge champ in the making, he’s taking after Daemon and his ability to plan

Also shows little regard for them in person, will actively ignore and use thinly veiled insults when interaction is needed.

A bit like Aemond in that his passion for you might make his interactions a bit bruising at times

He doesn’t mean it outside of hickeys and love marks

He adores you and would only have harsher/harder touches when jealous/mad/pent up, but they won’t ever do serious damage

Rarely gets mad though, only would be after escape attempts or figuring out about one

Jealous often, pent up often, so again very passionate lover, might leave bruises on your hips and if possible on your lips (lol)

Definitely see him as a chin/face grabber, or neck “holder” when mad/possessive (doesn’t really restrict airflow, just a reminder of his power/hold over you). Grabs chin/face to make you look at him, L O V E S to look at you. His gazes are fervent and in awe like a man dying of dehydration and you are the freshest river in the world. Like he can’t believe his eyes that you're in front of him. You are looking at him. He’s all he can see in your iris’s refection, and he fucking lives for that

Inspired by a reblog conversation I had with @moonteas in regards to their "Daemon, Aegon, Aemond, and Jacaerys kidnapping a stark!reader" Again I'll say y'all need to check them out! I fricking love that piece it was soul food.

#god this took me forever to format #I don't know how people do this so well #jacaerys x reader #yandere hotd #yandere jacaerys #Aegon x reader #Yandere aegon #yandere daemon #daemon x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #yandere aemond

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cienie-isengardu · 5 months

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How big do you think the age gap between Bi-Han and Kuai in the prior timeline because whenever I look at fanart, it seems a lot fans either believe Bi-Han was a kid(maybe 10) and Kuai being like 6 and there's the other side of Kuai being a baby and Bi-Han being in his late teens and approaching adulthood.

Personally I think if Bi-Han were that old compared to Kuai, Kuai would probably view him as a father figure rather than a brother.

Also I don't think the Lin Kuei would appreciate an infant being in their ranks since it'd probably distract Bi-Han from his duties and honestly Bi-Han would probably be more difficult to indoctrinate if he was in his teens. Seriously you can't tell me Bi-Han would appreciate his father shoving his teenaged self in a random clan with a baby and expect him to not only be a productive assassin whilst he's rocking Kuai to sleep.

It looks cute in pictures but in reality it'd probably be easier for the clan if Kuai wasn't a baby. Babies are a lot of work and it'd be more of a distraction than anything productive.

This is not strictly game source as the quote comes from Mortal Kombat novel (1995) written by Jeff Rovin but it is one of the most detailed information about Lin Kuei training:

They [Lin Kuei] would kidnap children when they were five or six and raise them in secret caves or woods to become superb athletes, great scholars, and unparalleled fighters, able to use all weapons and to improvise arms from common objects such as paper rolled to a knife-point or sand packed into a sock. They would train the children, boys and girls both, to be masters of many trades: carpenters, fishermen, priests, and even beggars, so they could blend in and make themselves useful in different towns as they traveled on missions for their lords. Many young people died during training: some could not hold their breath for five minutes and drowned, others weren’t fast enough to avoid the weapons of the masters, some starved or froze or dehydrated when they were stranded, naked, in deserts or on mountaintops and told to make their way home. But those who survived were Lin Kuei.

Mortal Kombat Conquest TV series (1998) whose events takes place in times of Great Kung Lao also mentions Lin Kuei attacks on families and kidnapping children - the age is not specified, but episodes “Kold Reality” (#3)

and "The Serpent and the Ice" (#15)

suggest a young age.

Then we have Mythologies: Sub-Zero tie-in material, that states Lin Kuei's "warriors are chosen at birth to be raised apart from the workings of day to day civilization and are stripped of their former lives. Only the clan knows their existence." and that Bi-Han and Kuai Liang have "already been chosen by the Lin Kuei to become warriors for the clan"

From Sub-Zero's backstory, we learn his mother "tried in vein to hide them from their father whose own life in America was only a cover for his true identity and purpose. Eventually they were found and their father returned with them to his homeland."

Taking all of those sources into consideration, my personal headcanon is that Bi-Han was around 6 years old - the age where Lin Kuei would have taken him away if mother did not rebel against that. I think, if she didn't interfere with Lin Kuei's plans for the boys, Bi-Han as the eldest, would be taken first, then in a few more years the clan would collect Kuai Liang and in another years the youngest sister if she fit the requirement. Yet because the mother tried to save her children - and most likely she died during that time, the father's cover was either blown up or he simply didn't have what to do with too young Kuai Liang so he took both boys at the same time.

The age gap between the original timeline brothers in my mind is around 5-6 years, with Bi-Han being around 6+ years old, Kuai Liang around 1+ and the youngest sister just a baby. That way Bi-Han is old enough to remember mother and youngest sister and build some resentment against father that presumably killed both, but still young enough to be indoctrinated into assassin life. His training started faster than Kuai Liang which is why Bi-Han either is lone wolf or partnered with Hydro while Tundra trained with Smoke who at some point joined the clan (not saying they were at the same age, rather that Smoke, as an outsider from different culture, had a lot to catch up on).

The Lin Kuei targets children old enough to be trained but young enough to have to be easily stripped of their former lives. However as the alternative timeline presents, kidnapping in modern times is exception rather than the rule, and as we have Sektor, the biological son of Grandmaster born into clan, so quite likely the clan has its own nursery and people tasked to take care and prepare infants and very young children for their future training and servitude. So when Bi-Han started his training, Kuai Liang needed to wait a few more years under those people's care.

In a strict sense of alternative timeline, I'm willing to tone down the age difference to more like 2-3 years, as MK9's Sub-Zero trailer did not give me the feeling of too big age difference?

My favorite, personal headcanon is the 5-6 years age difference. Though I do like imagine Bi-Han to always lurking around baby Kuai Liang to make sure the boy was okay, I doubt Lin Kuei would task him with taking care of the baby, because most likely the clan had a specialized group of people to perform these duties. The clan had after all centuries of experience how to deal and prepare kids for their benefit but also letting brothers to keep their family bond (memories of former life) doesn't sound as something Lin Kuei would care for.

#mortal kombat #my replies #sub zero #bi han #kuai liang #sub zero brothers #lin kuei #babies are too troublesome to deal with #teenagers are troublesome too as they have already sense of who they were and teenagers like to rebel #so the 5 or 6 years old to collect by lin kuei seems like the best age?#lin kuei needed to be well organized criminal group when one start think about their assassin clan

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moodymisty · 10 months

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requests are open???????? oh??????? okay okay hear me out, I know this might seem weird but I just love how you write for our clones and since I know you love him as much as I do..... what about "finding out they have a momento of you somewhere on them they bring everywhere" + Tai? 👉🏻👈🏻

Author's note: -yanks a barbie-like doll version of Tai from your hands- He's mine to play with now >:3 and I shall make his life perfect and full of fluff as he deserves. I can't be mean to him on my first time writing him xD

Also Wrecker, since you mentioned him in another message. His is a small bonus featured at the bottom ;3

Relationships: Tai(homeless clone veteran from Kenobi to anyone unawares)/Gn!Reader, Wrecker/Gn!Reader

Warnings: None

Your friends had always insisted you had a bleeding heart. But you never really got why it was always considered something you say about someone to insult them.

You care for other people; Is that so bad?

Well, here maybe. There's no shortage of individuals looking to take advantage of that. But you're careful, it's not like you would've gotten far if you hadn't been. But sometimes you can't help it. You'd lost count of how many times you'd come out to give him some food, as he sat camped out close by the entrance to your work.

"I," He hadn't heard you at first, your voice filtered into the crowd and was carried away by it. You spoke again, louder; With more confidence, you had thought.

"I brought you another."

When you'd finally caught his attention he turned to you, the brightness of his eyes contrasting against the still somewhat disheveled nature of his hair and beard. He'd trimmed some of it not too long ago, but in the situation he was in, it was difficult to find the proper tools to do so.

You'd handed him one of the two mealboxes in your hand- it's still warm on the bottom as your fingers brush over his gloved ones. He had hesitated, but after the last few times where you had, and quite aggressively insisted, he take the food, this time he just takes it.

"You're beginning to make a habit of this," His thumb fiddled with the tab to pull up the lid and take a peek at what was inside. "You know you don't have to."

He makes good company, and you don't hesitate to say as such.

"There's some storage crates behind the store; Do you maybe want to eat together?"

You were never able to stop the expectant look on your face, maybe hoping to puppy dog eyes him into joining you. It had seemed to work, but who knows if it was the pleading tone of just the offer of some company.

He went to haul himself to his feet, so you reached out a hand. He didn't exactly shove it away, but he didn't take it; Standing fully and giving you a small smile. It still surprises you sometimes how tall he is at full height, especially with those thick plastoid boots adding another chunk of height.

"I'm not that old." Putting the hand back on your mealbox, it had been hard not to teasingly roll your eyes.

"You said it, not me."

To think, that felt like so long ago.

It really hadn't been, but time passes so wonderfully slow sometimes when you're around him. And how lucky you'd ended up, now getting to say 'good morning', instead of 'good night'.

The blankets still cover your legs, looking to the side as you watch him dump out his ratty old bag all over his side of the bed. You can tell he still doesn't think he should be here, but you were quick to give him his own little spaces of his. He deserves it, and you want him here.

Various little things come tumbling out out his worn rucksack; Some credits, a roll of bandages, a piece of candy and an empty blaster mag, even.

He's such an early riser- you're not even out of your nightclothes and he's up and moving. Already gave you a kiss and made a cup of caf.

You'd bought Tai a new satchel when you noticed the rips and holes in his current one, that were making it nearly unable to fulfill it's purpose as a bag. The one you'd bought wasn't anything fancy, but part of you had been concerned about implying he replace the old one and finding out it had sentimental value. Thankfully it didn't seem to, and now he's eager to make use of your gift.

Shaking it once more a piece of foil also comes tumbling out with his various doodads, and given it looks looks like nothing else he owns, you decide to curiously reach for it. He doesn't vocalize that you shouldn't touch it, but you still hesitate just a moment to make sure you aren't snooping.

He looks at you and then the foil in your hands, before giving a soft smile that shifts his grey speckled stubble.

"Open it."

Carefully the crumpled metal makes noise as you unfold the edges, before revealing what's inside on your lap.

A flower is pressed and dried, wrapped up in the foil. The stem is cracked from being folded to fit in such a small pack, but it's still secured with the actual petals.

"Is this," You question, even though you think you know where this is from. Not too many plants have the chance to grow and blossom in this sort of smoggy, dirty city.

It must've been blown down from a rooftop garden not too long before you'd both walked by, it late into the night and both your bellies full from some hot, cheap food. The flower had been a bright blue just like the fading paint on his armor, and picking up off the ground you managed to save it from getting stepped on- holding it up to his chestplate. Commenting on the color match had made him smile, before he stuck it in the hair right above your ear.

You don't remember ever taking it out, so it must've fallen sometime during the night and he'd snatched it back up. There had been so much happening; The smell of food and booze, Imperial troopers chasing a mugger, Tai had an arm around you the entire time, and it had tightened with they came a bit too close. That warm feeling had made your stomach turn in knots.

"Why'd you keep it?" You're curious, gently rubbing one of the petals between your thumb and index finger. It's so soft, even the slightest touch and you're nervous you'll ruin it.

He must've had this safely in his satchel for weeks now, and you'd never even known.

"Thought that even if you didn't stick around, I'd still remember having fun that night." He didn't get many of those sorts of days, not after everything that's happened. So much of his life has just been survive to the next day; Next hour, next minute.

"You know," Gently folding the flower back up in it's foil you still hold it in your hand, glancing towards him. "I was already in love with you when you gave me this."

There still exists a small degree of self doubt that exists in him; That he's not the right man for you. Though after vehemently denying it and insisting he stay when he tried to beat himself into leaving your home, you do everything in your power to make sure he has no reason to think those things.

Your confession made him falter for a moment, as you look at him with those sweet, irresistible eyes.

Putting his knee on the bed he moves closer to you, eyebrows raised as his slightly hooded eyes stare you down. He's still a little bit sleepy since the caf hasn't quite kicked in, and neither of you have eaten yet. He's been wanting to make it, he says to make up for all those meals you gave him.

"Did it make you love me more?" You put the flower down safely out of the way, so it isn't as risk of getting crushed when you lean forward and meet him at the middle; Nose just brushing against his. You want to kiss him so fucking bad, feeling his beard against your skin when you mutter your answer.

"There's no words to describe how much it did."

✦ Bonus! Some Wrecker goodness ✦

Wrecker always runs so hot; On a cold planet like this, it's particularly nice.

He makes this sort of heat bubble, that radiates around him like the burning sun of a solar system. Warming up your thighs with the arm leaning across them, he does so as well with your back and side as he uses his other arm to pull you against his chest. Sitting sideways in his lap is nice, especially as you watch the stars.

This is the sort of thing normally makes you quite sleepy- though it doesn't help that Wrecker insists on being the most comfortable sleeping spot. At least this time it won't be terrible if you end up falling asleep, because at least he'll be here to wake you back up. Or keep an eye on everything for you.

He occasionally has to check the scanners, leaning forward to do so when he feels enough time has passed without taking a glance. The continuously snow obscures vision outside the viewports of The Marauder to a degree, but it's not bad enough that you can't see the sky. It is however, bad enough that you have to keep an eye on the scanners to check if anything is getting close, lest you end up noticing only when something's right on top of you.

Not that anyone or thing, other than maybe what little wildlife can survive out here anyways would; It's just Hunter being cautious.

When Wrecker tightens his grip on your thighs a bit an leans forward to check, you notice something underneath the armor of his wrist, and gently reach to grasp his arm. Wrecker doesn't resist and lets you have his arm but he is a little confused, until you expose the thin chain that's wrapped around his body glove but underneath his gauntlet.

"I didn't know you kept this."

You remember way back when, on your first what you would call an 'official date', your necklace had snapped. It wasn't one that had any sort of extreme sentimental value, but you had really liked it; Though when Wrecker had picked it up off the ground to see multiple links were ruined, you elected to trash it.

Apparently Wrecker hadn't done that, and had instead used the long chain and tied it around his wrist with a haphazard double knot, the small little gold pendant long since having been lost.

"I, uh," Wrecker takes his arm away from your hands, and rubs the portion of his neck just below his ear. The chain is easily hidden underneath the plates of his armor, which more than explains why you'd never spotted it up until right now.

"It reminded me of that first date." He looks at you oddly for a moment, his brown eyes trying to read your expression. "It isn't weird, is it?" You shake your head.

"No, not at all. Maybe I can use some of Tech's tools so we can fix it? Then it won't fall off."

He noticeably perks up at that. His hand goes right back to cupping the side of your thigh, his gloved palm covering a good portion of it.

"Yeah, I really don't wanna loose it after this long."

Gods, Wrecker is too sweet for you.

"Well now you got to give me something of yours, so we can match. Right?" He almost instantly starts wracking his brain for ideas, his fingers tapping against your thigh.

"I got an idea," Your eyebrows raise, waiting. "But it's a surprise."

Of course it is.

He laughs as you drop your shoulders, having been denied the instant satisfaction of knowing what memento he's going to give you.

"Awww Wrecker come on, please? Tell me?" Your arms raise to wrap around his neck, attempting to pull him for a kiss, but his torso is too tall for you to get anywhere in this position. He pinches the side of your thigh, making you squeal just a bit.

"I'll tell you later. Promise."

#Tai got that 501st charm i know he do #the bad batch wrecker x reader #wrecker x reader #tai x reader #Wrecker/Reader #tbb x reader #homeless veteran x reader #clone trooper x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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marshallpupfan · 11 months

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Is it just me, but doesn't it feel a bit strange that in the mighty movie, Skye and Chase have an "integral" friendship when they weren't even close when the show began.

Chase's best friend is Marshall, but I feel like they're trying to change the show's history by making Skye and Chase close when they weren't even that close in season 1.

It doesn't feel right to me 😕

Sadly, this isn't the only instance of the writers ignoring things in recent years. Rubble not having a family and then a really big one suddenly pops up for the spinoff, Skye's out-of-nowhere lack of confidence because of her size, Aqua Pups ignoring nearly every Merpup rule established in earlier seasons, etc..

But Spin Master disregarding Chase and Marshall's strong friendship and pretending it's actually been Chase and Skye is, to me, one of their biggest offenders. It's a change that, as silly as it may sound, does nothing but tarnish the love I once had for this franchise.

It's not like this is some fan-theory or anything. Even Nick Jr. has made videos showcasing their strong bond. Fans fully acknowledge it, and even Chase x Skye proponents have reacted to this news in utter confusion.

So... what gives? Well, I think I might have an answer. This may be a bit of a touchy subject, but what the heck, I'll talk about it anyway.

If there's one thing I've noticed over the years, it's that people have been demanding (sometimes angrily) for more female protagonists in movies, games, TV shows, etc.. Companies have complied to this, and Spin Master is no exception. Unfortunately, when they created PAW Patrol, they only made one of the main six pups a girl - a detail that displeased many viewers from the very beginning. Sure, they've created more female members since then, but the cartoon has been getting lazier about using any of their part timers now (I think Everest only appeared three times each in season 8 and 9).

Their solution? Give Skye more screen time, of course. Unfortunately, either by accident or on purpose, we now have a pup who gets called in during nearly every single mission. This is not an exaggeration; in season 9, she was used more than Chase, the main character and face of the franchise. Of course, it's not enough that they call her in a lot; they also wanted to give her an edge over the other four... something to make her "special" to stand out.

How did they go about doing this? Well, I think we know, given how this post got started in the first place.

Thus, our favorite Dalmatian got booted out of his position as Chase's best friend. Now, it's Skye who has an "integral" friendship with the shepherd. They're all "friends", but it's suddenly nothing compared to what these two share... apparently. I suppose it wasn't enough for them to shove Marshall to the side during missions so they could call Skye in more... they had to take that from him, too.

And for the life of me, I've no idea what the Spin Master president is talking about. Sure, Chase and Skye get called in together during missions a lot, but they hardly interact at all. It's not much different outside of missions, either. And if it was "acknowledged" in the first theatrical film, I certainly don't remember it. Chase and Marshall, on the other hand? Although brief, we still get hints of it every now and then, even as recent as season 9. It's clearly there, but I guess Spin Master, and possibly the movie director/writers, have other ideas.

There's no denying their priorities have changed. Sadly, I don't expect things to go back to the way they were anytime soon, especially if this leaked document is any indication.

As you can see, Spin Master is adopting a new strategy that promises to focus more on female-driven marketing and stories. Don't get me wrong, I don't oppose the idea at all (in fact, I'm thrilled they're giving Everest a 44-minute mini-movie... I absolutely want her to get more screen time), but in the long run, it shouldn't come at the expense of the male characters. Sadly, due to how much they overuse Skye now, I feel that's exactly what's happening... especially to Marshall. It's one of the reasons why I've started losing interest in the TV series, and why I'm sorry to admit I have little interest in The Mighty Movie. Skye will continue getting preferential treatment to compensate for their lack of foresight, while characters like Marshall will likely continue getting the short end of the stick as a result. I really hope I'm wrong, but the evidence seems all too clear.

I apologize for the length of this post, and if any of it comes off as sounding like a rant. And if anyone takes offense to something I've said here, I swear to you, that was never my intention. In truth, as many of you have seen, I have a lot of passion for both Marshall and the PAW Patrol franchise, which has lead me to become frustrated by some of its changes and the direction it's going in. And I know I'm not alone on this, as even most fans nowadays cheer when Chase and Marshall are finally given the chance to team up again... the rare times it happens, anyway. I suppose it's telling how excited we get for such morsels, but...it's often all we've got now.

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opalroots · 7 months

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Netflix's new Castlevania Nocturne is an indulgent, incredible mess - a review

Following up the original Netflix Castlevania series was never going to be an easy task. Though it had its shortcomings, Warren Ellis' Castlevania redefined what a video game adaptation is supposed to be, and it managed to entice rows upon rows of non-fans through its complex characters and incredibly flashy action sequences. It's a modern classic, and one of the best things to happen to animation in the last decade.

Along comes Castlevania Nocturne, a new series created by Clive Bradley set a few centuries after the end of the original series, already ladened with heavy expectations. Not only was it forced to carry on the legacy of the Castlevania franchise through adapting one of its most popular and beloved games, but it also had to live up to the expectations set by the original series.

I've only barely played the games, but the original Castlevania show holds a special place in my heart. So when the announcement of a followup series came, I was stoked. I read reviews, watched and rewatched trailers, all the stuff. And Castlevania Nocturne was shaping up to be incredible.

Did it live up to the hype? WELL-

I finished the first episode with a bad taste in my mouth- and not in a good way. It's filled with pacing that falters, dialogue that feels unnatural and preachy, and blatant references to the original series and the games that sound like they're going "hey! look at this! don't you remember This Thing That Was Important?"

I think this is a good point to mention that I'm not one of these "Wokelvania" "Netflix is shoving the homosexual agenda down our throats" people. The show takes place during the French Revolution, guys. Of course it has anti-establishment themes. People forget that in the very first season of Castlevania, the main antagonist was the Catholic Church.

In fact, I think Annette's backstory, which touches upon slavery and colonialism, is a very welcome aspect of the show that reflects historical events of this time that aren't as often brought up in media of this kind. Annette herself is also a very strong character in her own right, and while the writers do her a little dirty towards the end of the season, her arc is very compelling and she's an excellent addition to the cast. Don't listen to the racist weirdos guys.

That's not to overshade the other two main characters: Richter and Maria. Both have deeply complex personalities and backstories and the force of their characterisation is felt deep in the plot. Richter, in particular, is a fascinating and incredibly well-developed departure from his predecessor Trevor Belmont. Where Trevor was a tired, depressed man in his 30s, Richter Belmont takes on the more conventional "plucky young hero" archetype. Don't let that make you think he's shallow, though: Richter has a deep, rich character arc and his youthful naivety and lust for life is genuinely captivating. There's no better character to be driving this new plot forward: I fell in love with Richter multiple times throughout the season's runtime. And not just because he's hot.

Outside the main trio, however, the characters grow shallow. Tera, Maria's mother and a mentor character of sorts, has the personality of brown bread, and her purpose in the show's writing is essentially as a vehicle for plot exposition. Save for at the very end of the season (if you know, you know) there was not a single moment of the show where Tera was onscreen that I enjoyed. Her story together with the Abbott (another major character the writers want to pretend is complex) is insulting at best, and her backstory just feels unnecessarily edgy.

This shallowness extends to the cast of villains that the show presents. One thing that the original Castlevania was known for was its excellent antagonists: unforgettable characters like Dracula, Carmilla, and Isaac, who all had deeply human characterisations and complex reasons behind their actions. Compare this to characters like Drolta, whose name I'm struggling to remember not even an hour after the credits have rolled, or Vaublanc, who starts off as nemesis character of sorts for Annette but gets shafted halfway through the series in an admittedly cool but wasteful moment.

As of writing this, I'm not quite sure what to think of the series' main villain, Erzsebet Bathory. Unlike most characters in the show, this one has no allusion to the video games whatsoever: she is a wholly new creation on the part of Bradley and the writers. She's foreshadowed almost immediately as a "vampire messiah", a phrase that makes Bram Stoker spin like a centrifuge in his grave. When she finally appears, she certainly commands respect, but as opposed to the previous series' villains, there is not a single layer of depth to Erzebet's character. She's just evil for the sake of being evil, and that's a real disappointment. She's not bad at being evil- there's a moment at the very end of the season that left me in pure shock and disgust in the best way possible (IF YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW). She's just disappointing when compared to the masterfully executed villains that defined the original series.

The one exception to this rule of shallow antagonists is Olrox. He appears very early on in the show and acts as a nemesis of sorts to Richter. While not nearly as complex as, say, Dracula, Olrox had my interest early on and only got more interesting as the season progressed, eventually becoming an anti-villain of sorts, without sacrificing what makes him imposing. The effect he has on Richter is palpable and their relationship feels extremely real. As does the relationship between him and another character, Mizrak. And when I say relationship I mean they have gay sex with one another.

This brings me to one of my biggest irks with Castlevania Nocturne. Olrox, the series' so far most prominent and active antagonist, isn't just queer-coded: he's gay. Very gay. And on one hand, wow he's just like me, but on the other, it makes you raise an eyebrow when every single "good" character is either explicitly or implicitly cis and heterosexual. As a queer trans person, it bothers me that the only explicit representation we get is the vampire who murdered the main character's mom and who will probably play a very antagonistic role for the rest of the series. Everything about Olrox's queerness is doomed to fall into all the classic pitfalls we're so used to in media, and so far, we've seen no representation from the "good guys" to counteract it. Olrox isn't the only one, either: Erzsebet Bathory (you know, the woman who wants to Eat The Sun) is also ever so subtly queer-coded, though the show is too busy turning her into a lion to make her explicitly gay. Count your blessings, I guess.

All in all, Netflix's new Castlevania Nocturne is a show of breathtaking highs and devastating lows. The animation is just as on point as it always was, and the new cast of main characters are a fresh new addition to the Castlevania franchise. There are times when the writing feels deeply triumphant and powerful. Other times, it feels slow, repetitive, and at its absolute worst, downright lazy and sluggish. From a rough first few episodes, to a well-paced and exciting second act, to a weirdly staged but deeply engaging ending sequence, I often felt myself losing patience with Castlevania Nocturne. But, every time I did, the show pulled out all its stops to win me over - and it succeeded, every single time.

The series, as a whole, has a sense of incompleteness at its core. It's a first draft of an otherwise excellent brand new story in the Castlevania universe. And now that it's finally found its footing and been renewed for a second season, I'm hopeful future seasons will be able to better live up to the legacy of the original series, even if it'll never quite reach the original's icon status. Netflix please pay your writers.

Thanks for reading.

#castlevania nocturne #castlevania netflix #castlevania nocturne review #richter belmont #maria renard #annette castlevania #olrox castlevania #not but seriously richter is so hot how did I ever think I might be a lesbian #olrox too. lowkey transition goals #this took me too long. goodnight tumblr

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fullsunsets · 8 months

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3| Fine Line | Jaehyun

Jeong Jaehyun x Female!OC Park Hana

Angst + Fluff + Mature

Word Count: 9k

Warning/Notes: No graphic sex scenes, but minors should still be careful with the following: alcohol abuse, crude language, allusions to corporate abuse, and allusions to sexual promiscuity. Korean characters would be using the Korean age system. Jaehyun is less of a loser for once. Jamie uses she/they pronouns. Some people still think Haechan and Hana are dating, but don't worry, Haechan fixes it... 😇

Summary: Two exes are brought together when both will be leads for the next anticipated drama. Park Hana, an upcoming actress, is not very pleased to act alongside her ex. Jeong Jaehyun, an established actor, has come to the conclusion he wants her back. Would this new project bring them closer once again or push them apart even further?

PREV | NEXT

When the plane arrived, Hana expected everyone would be able to leave the airport with no problems. They grabbed their things with ease, but the moment they went out of baggage claim, they noticed the big crowd and the road of security guards. Hana looks astonished, she’s accustomed to these crowds in Incheon. On their way to Boston, they had to bypass a worse crowd in Incheon and loads of cameras that made it almost impossible to see. She never expected to receive similar attention in her home city. Of course, she does notice how this crowd seems to be more for Jaehyun than her, with several fans calling out his name and trying to shove their phones to his face. A couple of fans do try to get her attention, some complimenting her or outright saying they love her. But to her discomfort, she also hears some of them squeal over the idea that she’s here with Haechan.

It might be because it is her first scandal and she hasn’t been an A-List for long. This can be dangerous for her career. Although the people in the airport seem nice enough, not everyone is like that and her comment section is proof of that. For the past weeks, not only has fans of Haechan flooded her SNS with their distaste for her, but fans of Jaehyun have also come to threaten her if she dares ruin this drama for him. And the fact that people do not believe them is not even what angers the most. It is the entitlement that people have over her personal life and who she decides to date or not.

Just because she’s doing what she loves does not mean she has to give up her whole private life away. This whole situation is making her somewhat regret coming to Boston. She’s glad she’s going to be seeing her parents in a couple of minutes after going so long without seeing them, however, she’s afraid this will make more people snoop around into her private life. Although the fact that comes from Boston is public knowledge, the only people who know about Hana’s family work and background are Mark, Donghyuck, Manager Jeon, and the CEO. Even when she was dating Jaehyun, he only knew she grew up in a neighborhood named Allston and lived with her grandparents when she moved to Seoul. She was waiting to introduce them formally to tell him the rest, but well, that never happened.

When they get out of the crowd, Hana is relieved and looks for Donghyuck. She then stops in her tracks when she overhears what seems to be Jaehyun’s stylists talking about her and Haechan.

“Are you sure they’re a thing, though? I saw Screenwriter Park be the one to sit next to Haechan instead of Hana when we were boarding the plane,” she hears one of the stylists trying to reason, but when she turns to look at them she notices the other two chuckle as they shake their heads.

“C’mon, Sooyun-ah, you’re so naive. That was most likely on purpose, they’re trying to distract us and have fewer people talk about them. I heard they’re so close he already knows her family,” the tallest one says and Hana starts to walk towards them to call them out, but she then hears someone beat her to it.

“Whether they’re dating or not I don’t see why would that be your business. They’re here for work just like all of us, so I expect professionalism from you three instead of spreading baseless rumors,” Jaehyun reprimands them and Hana looks at him taken aback, not expecting it to be him who stepped in. The stylists all look at him red and start bowing their heads down, probably apologizing but she’s not near enough to hear them.

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to, save the apologies for Haechan and Hana. I better not hear you gossip about others' private life again,” he promises them as he walks away from them.

She’s about to call his name out, she doesn’t know why, if she’s honest. Maybe to thank him or tell him she doesn’t need defending, especially not coming from him. But before she can call him she hears her name. Her eyes widen after she turns around to find her parents standing a few meters away grinning at her, taken aback, she let go of her suitcase and runs to hug them. Her mother is the first one to hug her, which comes to no one's surprise, but not long after, her father joins in. When they finally pull away, her mom starts to look around and before she can ask her what’s wrong, her mom does the last thing Hana needed in this situation.

“Where is that rascal of Lee Donghyuck? How come he’s not here saying hi to us?” she demands just loud enough for some of the production to hear her.

“Eomma, please, lower your voice, everyone can hear you,” she tries to calm her and her stupid friend finally decides to show his face.

“Eomoni!” he smiles, “I was just waiting for my drive. I didn’t realize you were here,” he explains, making sure that everyone knows he’s not staying with Hana, however, her parents didn’t get it.

“You’re not staying with us? Why would you waste money at a hotel when you have us,” Hana’s mom complains making both Donghyuck and Hana open their eyes as they try to keep everyone else from hearing her.

“Mom, why would she stay with us? He already booked a room,” she says in English, hoping to hide the conversation, but her mom keeps speaking in Korean.

“Hana, it is very rude to let your best friend stay at what I assume is an overpriced hotel when he could stay with us,” her mom insists, but thankfully she explicitly called Donghyuck her friend.

“Yeobo, Hana already said Hyuck-ah already booked his room. They’re here for work, not vacationing around,” her dad comes to help and her mom sighs.

“Besides Eomoni, I have the money to spend. Don’t worry too much,” Donghyuck reminds her with an innocent smile but Hana’s mom scoffs.

“That’s no excuse to be irresponsible with money but I’ll let it go,” she promises and grabs Hana’s suitcases, “let’s go, sweetie, the traffic is a nightmare today at the 90.”

She tells her parents she must say goodbye to everyone, so they wait for her. A couple of people are looking at her and she knows they heard the entire argument to her dismay. She decides to ignore it for now and says goodbye to Director Kim, the screenwriters, and the producers. Before leaving, she and Donghyuck give looks at each other, both realizing they need to figure this out before the rumors get worse. With a sigh, she turns and follows her parents. She knows her actions will be louder than any rumors, right now she just wants to focus on work and her family.

The very next day, Hana arrives in Cambridge at 8 am, a few hours before most people. Her mom made sure she woke up early and ate a full breakfast. At this hour only the camera crew and other staff members along with Director Kim and both producers were around. After saying hi to everyone she goes to her seat and takes a look at her phone. She texts Donghyuck to make sure he’s awake and what they should do today. Before the scandal, she had planned to show Donghyuck around, but now she’s afraid that will only make everything worse.

But overall, Hyuck must be the most annoyed in this situation. She promised him he will be available to relax and focus on his music while in Boston, but now he has to pretend he’s here to help with the production. He loves his work, but unlike Hana, he’s not an obsessive workaholic. At the very least, he’s not yelling out his frustrations at her, but she knows that only means it will be worse when he finally explodes.

Her thoughts are interrupted when she hears a few people and Manager Jeon informs her they hired some local actors for Soojin’s and Chansung’s circle from college. This takes her by surprise so she looks around, she would have expected them to bring people from Seoul. After taking a look she’s about to go back to her phone, but just then one of the actors turns and Hana’s eyes widen.

“What is it? Do you know any of them?” Manager Jeon asks but Hana ignores them as she walks towards the group of actors.

“Naomi? Naomi Moore?” she asks out loud and then Naomi’s eyes light up as she runs towards Hana.

“Hana?! It’s been so long!” she exclaims as both of them hold each other in a tight embrace.

“What are you doing here? I thought you lived in New York now,” Hana points out, remembering her parents and Jisoo telling her Naomi went to New York after graduating. She even remembers seeing pictures of her working on Broadway.

“Well, I was about to move to LA but my agent told me about this project in Boston and I haven’t been home in a while so I had to say yes. I didn’t expect it to be your drama, though. This is a pleasant surprise,” she grins and hugs Hana away, “you have grown so much, honestly. You look stunning.”

Hana blushes, but then looks at Naomi from head to toe. The Naomi she knew in middle school was now a tall grown woman. Her cute short afro from back then was now braided in long box braids that reached her hips. Before she would rarely see Naomi in anything that wasn’t an oversized hoodie, but today she was wearing a long satin bronze skirt and a sheer black long-sleeved shirt. Her makeup was simple but it made her skin glow.

“Well, if I look stunning you look like a goddess. Where’s the awkward theater kid I knew in middle school?” she teases her and Naomi chuckles.

“I know, right? adulthood really changes you,” she admits and then hugs Hana again, “I’m so glad to see you. Jisoo should have told me you were coming. How’s he doing with med school?”

“Busy but great. Sometimes Grandma and I have to remind him to take a break,” she reveals and then she sees Head Producer Park and Manager Jeon come over.

“Good morning again, Hana. I see you two know each other,” he asks with a small smile, something that takes her aback as she’s not used to seeing him show any expression that is not completely blank.

“Oh yeah, we are childhood friends. We went to school together for years until I moved to Seoul,” she explains and looks back at Naomi getting ready to translate, but her old friend surprises her.

“Yeah, her parents used to babysit me when my mother was busy working when we were little kids. I am still close friends with her little brother,” she adds up in flawless Korean. When they were little Naomi picked up a couple of words while being babysat by her family, but she was never fluent before Hana left.

They talked a little bit with Head Producer Park, who explained Naomi was going to play one of Soojin’s college friends. She already knew what character her friend was going to play since the character was also in the webcomic. He explained what they will be filming today and told them to ask Director Kim anything if they had any more questions about the scenes.

Once he left, Hana looked at Naomi still surprised by her friend’s fluency. “When did you become fluent in Korean? Last time we talked you could only say eomma, appa, dongsaeng, and a handful more words.”

“I took a Korean minor in college,” she reveals, “I was actually frustrated I never fully picked up the language despite being around your family for so long and with all the Korean dramas I watched. Then I found out my school offered Korean as a minor and took the challenge.”

They sit together while they wait for everybody else and catch up in the meantime. Naomi tells Hana about her career on Broadway but has decided to move to Hollywood and expand her career. She’s surprised to find out that her old friend has kept an eye on her career as well and has watched everything Hana has been on. She and Naomi were fans of Korean dramas from a young age as it was common for them to sit with Hana’s mom while she watched her dramas, but she never expected her to not only keep watching them even now but also become a fan of Hana’s work. It makes her sad though that she has never visited New York and made the effort to watch at least one of Naomi’s shows, she knows Jisoo has.

However, the conversation shifts when Jaehyun arrives. She sees how Naomi's expression brightens when she sees him and that is enough for her to know her friend is a fan. A part of her wants to warn her, but she stops herself. If she does she might risk others finding out and creating a scandal worse than her and Donghyuck. Just then her stylists come to get her ready for filming. Naomi leaves to get changed herself and promises to talk more later.

As they get her ready she reads the script just to review one more time. She has already memorized the entire script but she always makes sure to read the script right before filming. That way she gives herself more time to think of better ways to portray the scene and any adlibs she might want to add if she finds it necessary. To her relief, today she won’t have any speaking parts with Jaehyun. Instead, Director Kim wanted them to get comfortable with the environment first so they will only be recording them going to class and walking around Harvard like regular students.

Once stylist Im is done she takes a look at her outfit, she also takes a few pictures knowing Manager Jeon might want her to post pictures of today once the drama is released. It wasn’t anything crazy, just light makeup and a Harvard hoodie. She might show this to her dad just to tease him, he might be happy for her now but she knows how much he wanted her to go to a good school.

In set, she sees Naomi, who is now wearing an outfit more suitable for a young college student. She also meets the other actor who will be playing Soojin’s friend. They do quick introductions, his name is Justin Han, and currently an acting student at Emerson. Shortly after, Director Kim calls action and they start the scene. For the most part, they just act like regular students as they walk around campus. The lines don’t start until they’re sitting on one of the benches and Jaehyun (or more like Chansung) is looking at her. In this scene, Naomi’s character takes note that he is looking but Soojin has to pretend to not notice and not be affected by it. The usual banter between friends is when one has someone who seems interested in them. The scene ends when Justin’s character joins in the banter and calls Chansung’s name, Hana then hides as the scene calls for and both her friends try to hold their laughter.

The rest of the scenes are similar, they walk around campus or sit in class while Chansung and Soojin look at each from afar. Noticing each other but being too shy to be the first one to reach out.

A few hours later, Director Kim hits the final cut and everyone starts celebrating. The PR team takes a few pictures to commemorate the official first day of filming. Naomi grabs her and Justin to take a few more pictures of only the three of them. She takes a look at them and chuckles at their faces, they do look like lifetime friends even if they had just met Justin.

“I need everyone’s attention,” Director Kim calls and everyone gathers around him, “to celebrate today’s successful first day of filming I wanted to take everyone to eat. We’re still looking for someplace that will take the whole crew but it shouldn’t take long.”

“No place would reserve a spot for this big crew, I can take you instead,” Hana hears a voice she recognizes and turns in an instant to find her mom and dad standing in the back.

“Eomma, appa, what are you two doing here?” she asks in Konglish and her mom pouts a bit.

“What does it look like? We’re inviting everyone to come eat at our house. Manager Jeon let us in,” her mom explains and Hana is about to decline but Producer Lee first.

“Are you sure you can take us in, ma’am? We’re a big crew,” he reminds her but she grins as she grabs Hana’s dad.

“Oh, I am not cooking alone. My hubby is a great cook as well and will be cooking with me,” she adds and Hana’s dad nods in agreement.

“Well, since you came all the way here to invite us it will be rude to say no,” Head Producer Parks accepts and looks at everyone, “we will be eating with Hana’s parents then.”

After a 10-20 minutes ride to Allston, the crew arrives at Hana’s house. When they come in everyone is surprised by everything her parents prepared, even Hana is surprised herself. The backyard is set up with fairy lights and two big tables to accommodate the crew. They even set up the speakers and put music on. To her embarrassment, they were playing Mark’s songs. Even inside the house, everything was decorated with care and detail. No wonder her mom wanted her to leave to work as soon as possible. She must have this planned for days, even weeks. Both her parents rush to the kitchen to finish the rest of the food.

Once everyone sits down she notices Donghyuck, she knows she was around on set right before filming, but it seems he spent the entire day talking to the producers. She also notices Jaehyun looking around, not talking to anyone. It feels weird to have him here at her childhood home. Years ago she would have brought him here as her boyfriend but instead, he’s here as a coworker. She wonders why he’s not talking to anyone since he seemed normal in set although she never spoke to him aside from a quick acknowledgment from afar.

“I didn’t know Lee Haechan was gonna be here,” Naomi looks at Donghyuck and takes Hana’s attention away from Jaehyun, “aren’t you two from the same agency.”

“Yeah, you want to meet him?” she offers and her friend bites her lip while nodding slowly, “It’s ok, many people might go crazy for him, but he’s just a dude.”

They both stand up and walk towards Donghyuck who at this point finished talking to the producers and was joking around with other crew members until he noticed Hana.

“Oh! Hana-yah! Come sit with us,” he says as he tells the rest to make space for her and Naomi, “who’s with you?”

“Hyuck-ah, this is Naomi, a childhood friend, and Naomi, this is Donghyuck, my best friend, sadly,” she introduces them and Naomi lowers her head for a quick bow.

“Nice to meet you, Lee Haechan,” Naomi acquaints herself, and Donghyuck smirks.

“Donghyuck is fine, anyone who can be friends with this meanie is a friend of mine,” he makes eye contact with a playful smile, “you look beautiful by the way.”

Hana rolls her eyes and thankfully Naomi is not offended because she chuckles at Donghyuck's flirty nature.

“Dude, she’s a lesbian,” she hits his shoulder and he bites his lip a bit embarrassed but recovers right away.

“Well, if you know anyone in the city I am open,” he leans towards Naomi, “I swing all ways, so I’m not picky.”

“Noted,” Naomi humors him, “so I guess this is confirmation that the rumors of you two dating are just rumors.”

After that comment, both friends looked at each other trying not to gag. Hana completely forgot that since Naomi is very into Korean dramas she must have seen the articles and rumors flying around. At least her friend seems to be more perceptive than most people and can call bullshit on those rumors.

“Please, I can do much better than this Gemini menace,” she remarks and Donghyuck rolls his eyes.

“And you think I can’t? I can have all of Boston at my feet in less than a week,” he establishes, his eyes screaming determination.

“One, you can barely speak English, how will you communicate? Two, Manager Oh will kill you if you get into another scandal. Especially since he’s not here to keep an eye on you,” she reminds him but he waves his hand in disinterest.

“Oh c’mon, I know how to be careful. Plus, my rizz transcends languages, it’s not my fault I am irresistible,” he argues and she rolls her eyes.

“Hey, the food is coming. Isn’t that Jaehyun helping your parents,” Naomi announces and both Hana and Donghyuck look at the same time.

Naomi saw right, not only the food was coming, but Jaehyun was helping Hana’s parents bring the food. Just the look of him acting nice around her parents, makes her stand up and try to stop it, but Donghyuck grabs her before she can bring any attention towards her. Thus, she waits until her parents and Jaehyun reach her side of the table. Jaehyun puts down the food and tells everyone to enjoy the food and while everyone thanks him she remains quiet. Her mom notices this immediately and she is quick to scold Hana.

“Hana-yah, where are your manners? Not only did your costar is the one to help with the food instead of you but you don’t even thank him when he does?” she scolds as she hits her back and Hana yelps.

“Eomma! That hurts,” she complains, “you didn’t even call me to help you. Don’t embarrass me around my coworkers,” she adds the last part in English.

“You still haven’t said thank you to Jaehyun-ssi, “ her mother bites back and Hana sighs.

“Eomoni, it’s ok. She must be tired, we had a long day filming, there’s no need to scold her,” he defends her which only makes Hana look away.

“You’re such an angel. Your parents raised a fine gentleman, wish I could have a son-in-law like you,” she praises and both Hana’s and Jaehyun’s eyes widen, “oh, don’t be dramatic, it’s just wishful thinking. Jaehyun-ssi, you already helped enough. Go eat.”

Hana bites her lip, if her mother knew what Jaehyun has done to her she would have changed her mind in an instant. She looks up to notice her dad has been eyeing her since the start so she pretends to be focusing on the food. This is going to be a long night.

The first week of filming went with ease as it consisted of getting accustomed to the Harvard campus and making sure everyone felt like true college students. Hana thought it was a great idea as it aided her to get the right feel of not only being a regular college student, but a Harvard one at that. She has even talked to some of the students taking summer classes and got tips from them.

However, everything started to complicate the last day of week one. That’s when all her speaking lines with Jaehyun started. There hasn’t been the need for too many retakes, just a few here and there. But for Hana, any is borderline criminal. The scenes haven’t even gotten too romantic, just Chansung and Soojin getting to know each other with added tension. If she’s already struggling she cannot help but dread how harder things will get. Maybe Donghyuck was wrong and she’s not the great actress he thinks she is.

The last scene of the day is finally done and Hana is in her changing room looking up frustrated. Today there were only two retakes but Hana can’t shake it off. The last time she ever needed a retake was 10 years ago when she had just started her career. She had even built a reputation of never needing retakes. What if talks of today spread to Seoul and articles of her losing her touch start? She should probably call Manager Jeon over and make sure no word of today’s slip gets around.

Just then her thoughts are interrupted by a soft knock. She expects it to be Manager Jeon so she calls out ‘Come in’ without much thought. But when the door opens she is instead greeted by Naomi who has worry written all over her face.

“Are you alright? You went straight here when the director ended the day,” she asks concerned.

“I- yeah, I’m ok… it’s just, it’s stupid,” she tries to dismiss but Naomi makes her look at her.

“Don’t make me call Donghyuck over,” Naomi threatens and Hana sighs, she can’t believe she has only known Donghyuck for a week but already knows how to use him against her.

“I did horrible today, we had to do retakes and now everyone might think I am losing my skills. I have only been an A-lister for less than 2 years and I am already messing up,” she laments expecting Naomi to feel pity for her but instead, she’s greeted by Naomi’s loud laughter, “You’re the fucking worse, you’re just like Hyuck-ah.”

“It’s just so hilarious how some things never change. Remember that one time when you once turned down a role you auditioned for because you felt like you messed up a line? And that was for a dumb school play. Girl, you have always been too hard on yourself,” Naomi reminds her and Hana bites her lip, she does remember that day.

“But still! I haven’t been at fault for a retake in a decade. I have a reputation to uphold and believe me, Koreans are ruthless if I don’t uphold it perfectly,” she insists and this time Naomi sighs.

“Look, nobody cared today. I haven’t heard a soul talk about it, well, except for Donghyuck. I did hear him joke about the last retake. But hey, we all know he’s a bitch,” she adds and she’s right, Lee Donghyuck is indeed a bitch, “I’m not gonna let you mop for the entire night so give me a second.”

Before Hana can ask her what she means, Naomi takes out her phone and starts texting frantically for what seems forever. She tries to snoop in but her friend just tilts her phone so Hana cannot have a look. After a few minutes, she puts her back on her purse and grabs Hana’s arm.

“Let’s go, we’re going to the bar,” she announces and Hana stops.

“What do you mean the bar? Since when?” she tries to backtrack but Naomi only smirks.

“Now. Hurry, people will be waiting,” she grabs Hana’s things and then drags her out.

When they arrived, said people were already waiting. People Hana hasn’t seen and heard from in years. So long that it took her a few seconds to recognize a few.

“Girl, you look divine. Come here, give me a hug,” Azi gives her a tight hug and Hana hugs him back, “I was so surprised when I received Naomi’s text”

“I also didn’t expect her to invite y’all. It’s great to see you. It’s been way too long,” she grins as she sits down with the rest.

“It’s ok. I’m sure you’ve been busy. We heard you’re a big actress in South Korea now,” Sadie smiles at her as she takes a sip of her drink, “of course, it comes to no one's surprise. We all expected you to become a star.”

“Yeah, and since we have both our stars here I need you and Naomi to give me your autographs, and help a girl out,” Celine pushes two papers toward Hana and Naomi making both roll their eyes.

“Already lost the ones we gave you in middle school?” Naomi asks as both of them sign the papers.

“Nah, I sold them last year,” she smirks as she takes the now-signed papers and put them in her bag, “thanks to the two of you I was able to get a new laptop for grad school.”

“I always said you should have gone to business school instead of law, I swear,” Hana hears a voice from behind them and lets a loud squeal when she realizes who it is.

“Jamie! Oh my, how you’ve been?!” she hugs them tightly as they try not to laugh. Along with Naomi, Jamie was one of their closest friends.

“I’ve been great. I see you’re doing great yourself” she teases and Hana pulls away.

“Well well, Jamie is finally here. And to answer your question, someone needs to become a lawyer in this group. What if y’all need representation?” Celine answers as she chugs down her drink and everyone shakes their heads. If anyone in this group would ever need legal representation is going to be Celine Minh.

They all keep talking and catching up, especially Hana. Everyone keeps bombarding her with questions. Asking her about her time in Seoul and how different it is from Boston. How high school was and if she went to college.

Then the conversation switched to their current careers or ventures. Azi is in grad school for biochemistry but also doing Drag on the side. Sadie is working as an elementary teacher, but she is also engaged to her college partner and thinking to get married next year a day after Yom Kippur. She even gave Hana an invitation in case she’s able to come. Celine is attending Northeastern School of Law. Lastly, Jamie graduated from Berklee and is currently working as an indie musician full-time while giving music lessons part-time. They even showed how some of their songs have become trending on TikTok.

Not long after, they see a pair approach them. The rest of their friends were confused since everyone they knew was already present, but Naomi and Hana recognized them right away. Justin and Donghyuck greeted everyone, the former looking a bit shy while the latter threw everyone a charming smile. To her dismay, it worked and everyone set their eyes on her provocative friend.

“So you’re Hana’s best friend?” Azi asks and then pouts at Hana, “Could have warned us that you have such a handsome friend.”

“Dude, calm your pants. You don’t know if he’s straight or not,” Jamie warns him, which causes Hana to hold back a snicker while Naomi translates for him.

“Oh, I am pan,” Donghyuck responds in the little English he knows and Azi grins as he motions Hyuck to sit next to him and Jamie.

“Azi, he doesn’t even speak English,” Hana reminds him, and both Hyuck and Azi glare at her.

“Sweetie, rizz transcends language,” he answers back, Hana and Naomi look at each other.

“Are you sure it was a good idea to let those two meet?” Hana whispers and Naomi chuckles.

They all keep drinking and talking. Azi and Donghyuck even dance for a little bit. Despite the language barrier the two of them made it work. But to her surprise, she later noticed Donghyuck bonding with Jamie, especially when their music was bought up. The two of them started to show each other their work and at some point, he even grabbed Justin so he could translate for them since Naomi and Hana were busy talking to the others.

Although it is no surprise that Donghyuck got along with Hana’s old friends, she would have never expected he would have bonded the most with Jamie. They were an introvert, and the fact Naomi was able to convince them to come to a bar full of people it’s already surprising as it is. Considering how similar their personalities are, she would have expected Donghyuck to spend the entire night with Azi, maybe hook up or something. But as she keeps seeing them talk about music, she realizes how Jamie is a lot like Mark. She should warn him that Donghyuck is replacing him.

As the night progresses, most of them take breaks from drinking and order some appetizers for everyone. She goes to dance with a few of them as they all have fun. They ask her more questions about her job and how she’s doing in Seoul. Having them all around makes her forget why Naomi planned this in the first place. Right now she’s having the time of her life with friends she hasn’t seen in over a decade.

However, this is interrupted when Hana sees someone approach them and she freezes. Naomi and Donghyuck seem to notice their friend's reaction as they both follow her vision.

“Jaehyun-ssi! I thought you were never coming! Everyone, this is Hana’s leading man. The one and only Jeong Jaehyun,” she gleams as Jaehyun’s ears turn red from everyone’s attention.

“Sorry, I was unsure about coming. I hope I’m not too late,” he explains and Naomi shakes her head as she lets everybody else introduce themselves.

They all start asking him questions. Azi even tries to flirt with him just to be told this time by Jaehyun that he is straight. Her friend doesn’t take long to recover, though. This time Celine is the one who flirts with him, but to her dismay, he also turns her down. Everyone seems to be delighted by Jaehyun's presence, even Justin jokes around a bit with him. But it doesn’t take long for them to notice that Hana and even Donghyuck haven’t talked since Jaehyun arrived.

“Hana, don’t be rude. Your coworker is here and you’re just sitting there all quiet. Even Jamie is socializing more than you,” Sadie points out as they all face her, wondering what got her so quiet.

“Ah…” she blinks a few times, “I think I’m getting tired, I’m sorry. Maybe we should head home soon.”

Everyone looks at her concerned while Jaehyun looks down. They shift their focus from Jaehyun and start discussing if they should start leaving now before it gets too late. As they all plan who is leaving with who she notices Jaehyun approaches her and she looks the other way.

“I’m sorry if I ruined the night. I was also surprised when Naomi invited me, that’s why I almost didn’t come,” he whispers as he tries to explain but Hana scoffs.

“If you knew I wouldn’t want you here you shouldn’t have come then,” she responds and stands up, “I need to go to the bathroom, I won’t take too long.”

Filming in Boston has become more complicated than Jaehyun would have anticipated. Not only has he met Hana’s parents, and been to her childhood home, but two days ago he even met her childhood friends. Years ago he would have been delighted by this. Her family loved him, and her friends adored him, but right now it doesn’t matter. Now he’s just a coworker, it doesn’t matter if they like him or not because he’s no longer part of Hana’s life.

It makes him reflect, though, on the many ways he fucked up. If he hadn’t messed up he would have met her parents long ago. He remembers her parents were coming to Seoul around this time 2 years ago. It had been planned for several months and Jaehyun even suggested he wanted her parents to meet his. They even reserved space at one of Seoul’s best restaurants. However, just a month before they came he broke up with her. Thus, this trip became a reminder of what it could have been.

Not only that, but now with the rumors of Donghyuck and Hana there is nothing for him to do. He knows everything is untrue, Donghyuck most likely came here to support Hana. It could also be because he does not trust Jaehyun. Not that he blames him. He’s the one who brought them together, he vouched for Jaehyun and instead of keeping his best friend safe and happy, Jaehyun left her like she was nothing.

But hearing and seeing others gossip about Hana’s private life and even questioning her work ethic angers him. He still remembers the day they arrived in Boston and his stylists were gossiping about Hana. She was standing not too far from them, shame and anger all mixed on her face. He couldn’t stand seeing her like that so he had to say something. However, he knows he can’t always do it unless he wants to bring more attention to his relationship with Hana. Manager Kim even made sure to remind him of that when he heard what Jaehyun did.

Once they’re both ready to film the first scene of the day they wait for Director Kim in set. Hana is sitting on a bench reading a book. He decides to use this as an opportunity to talk to her. They’re about to film so she can’t walk away if he approaches her. She might ignore him, but he can at least get his words across.

“Hey, what are you reading?” he asks to get her attention but she keeps reading her book so he decides to go straight to the point, “Look, I wanted to apologize again for last Sunday. You’re right, I should have turned down Naomi’s invite but can we please talk about it?”

To his surprise, she closes her book and looks up, but is immediately disappointed when she speaks up.

“There is nothing to talk about. Naomi doesn’t know about us and it’s better that way,” she remarks and then stands up, “Director Kim is here, filming is about to start.”

The cameras start to roll and both of them get into character. Hana's face switches from expressionless to a face full of joy. Soojin and Chansung start to talk about plans for the break, but that’s not the focus of this scene. Instead, this scene focuses only on Chansung and the way he sees Soojin. It’s to demonstrate the moment he realizes how deep his feelings for Soojin go. She’s not a cute girl she met on campus or a small crush, but someone he doesn’t want to part from, ever.

Thus, to show this, Jaehyun pays attention to every detail of Hana’s words. He then moves his gaze to her eyes, getting lost in how she delivers every line. The excitement in her voice and her small gestures. His eyes then go down to her lips, which he regrets immediately. He notices how soft they look, how they move as she speaks. His mind wanders to their taste because yes he knows how those soft lips feel and taste. He looks away embarrassed but thankfully Hana either doesn’t notice or just decided to go on with the scene.

Director Kim screams cut and Jaehyun jogs towards his stylists, still embarrassed. However, when he gets there he finds some of them talking to other staff members and doesn’t like what he hears.

“I know Jaehyun is just a great actor, but do you think there’s something weird between those two? I even saw them talking before filming and there was this odd aura around them. I think I ever heard her say saying ‘about us’ and not wanting someone to know about it,” one of the staffers says and Jaehyun freezes.

“But isn’t she dating Haechan? You don’t think she’s two-timing, right?” Stylist Seo questions, this time Jaehyun clenches his fist but then calms himself and clears his throat to bring attention to himself, “Oh, Jaehyun-ssi. I’m sorry, we didn’t know you were here.”

“Why? Because then I wouldn’t have caught y’all gossiping again? I think I made it clear last time to not spread baseless rumors. Haechan and Hana had already denied the rumors. And regarding me and Hana, nothing is going on between us aside from being coworkers,” he chastises and they all bow down apologetically, “I don’t give third chances so this better be the last time I hear you talk about the matter.”

Stylist Seo, Stylist Lee, and the staffer apologize but Jaehyun tells them to focus on work. Thus, the staffer leaves while the stylists retouch Jaehyun’s makeup and hair. He looks towards Hana's side, her stylists are also doing some retouches but also seem to be having a conversation. Director Kim approaches and it seems he said something funny because Hana starts laughing. She looks ethereal.

After they’re done they film two more scenes with the same outfits. When they are done everyone goes to eat. He sees Hana go with Naomi and Justin, hearing something about eating out. Jaehyun sighs, making sure Naomi doesn’t notice him, and avoids getting invited again to not further bother Hana. In his dressing room, Manager Kim congratulates him about filming but he ignores him as he grabs his food.

As he eats he looks at the script, in a few hours he has to get ready and move location due to the last scene they will be filming. It’s a great scene and as an actor Jaehyun is excited for it. But as Hana’s ex, he is dreading it. He’s talking about the first confession scene. When Chansung and Soojin lay their mutual feelings and start dating for the first time.

When he’s done eating he changes clothes and the stylists come to redo his hair and makeup. In the meantime, he rereads the script and is reminded of when Jaehyun and Hana started dating. It was also late at night and Jaehyun was the one to confess first. But instead of being a summer night, it was one cold December night just a few days before Christmas. He tries to use this memory for inspiration, but instead, it makes him depressed. Thus, when they arrive at John W. Week's footbridge he can’t help but look at the distance in melancholy.

“Jaehyun-ssi, can you fix that expression? Better save it for the breakup scene. Right now I need you two to look enamored, ok?” he hears Director Kim call out and Jaehyun nods as he apologizes.

Jaehyun looks at Hana who is leaning against the brick wall as she looks to the distance. He wonders if she’s also reminiscing on their first day. He tries not to bother her, not wanting to ruin her mood right before the scene. Instead, he focuses on her silhouette and how calm she looks. He remembers what Johnny told him weeks before he left for Boston. To be honest with her, to be clear with his intentions even if she doesn’t believe him.

Just then Director Kim tells them to get in position and the camera starts rolling. Chansung says something that makes Soojin laugh and look away in the distance with a big smile. He wants to stay in this moment, in this bubble where Hana is Soojin and he is Chansung. When she doesn’t hate him and wants to be around him. He uses this and grabs Soojin’s hand causing her to look at him confused.

“If I don’t say this now I am afraid I won’t ever get the courage to say it again,” he moves Soojin’s hand to his chest, just right above his heartbeat, “I hope this shows you how genuine my feelings are. Kim Soojin, I like you and I want you to give us a chance.”

She smiles at him and holds his free hand with hers. In a sudden movement, she feels her get close and his heart stops.

“Today is our day one,” she announces next to his ear, and without thinking about it, he is brought back to that Christmas night and forgets where they are. He grabs her arm and pulls her into a tight embrace. She yelps but instead of pulling back, she hugs him back, he forgets for a second why and gets hopeful. Just then he hears Director Kim and Hana pulls away in an instant bringing him back to reality.

“Cut! Amazing scene. You did great adding that emotional hug, Jaehyun-ssi. Now, everyone, we’re done for the night,” Director Kim announces and Jaehyun looks up at Hana.

“Hana, I’m sorry. I just got lost in the scene, I should have warned you,” he apologizes but she starts walking away, her face fuming.

Before he stops himself, he follows her, not caring if others in the crew are watching. Both of them keep walking until they’re away from the crew and where no one can hear them.

“What the fuck do you want? I told you to leave me alone. The scene is done, everyone is happy, now go back and act like you don’t care about me,” she turns to him and explodes, he stops in his tracks and takes a deep breath.

“Please listen to me once, Hana. I know you hate me and you have every right to but hear me out,” he tries to persuade her.

“I don’t know what’s your goal, Jaehyun. But I’m not something that can be won over, I am not your little prize,” she argues and at this point, he can’t take it anymore and decides to listen to Johnny for once.

“I don’t have a goal for fuck’s sake. I know what I did and I know you won’t ever give me a chance. I don’t want you to because you deserve better. It’s there any goal that I have, I just want you to hate me a bit less. Even that is a lot to ask, but instead of what we have now I hope we can at the very least act like regular coworkers. This is not a ploy to get back at you. I am being genuine when I tell you I don’t want us back together,” Jaehyun blurts out and he notices how Hana freezes, of course not expecting what he just said. He lets himself get hopeful and thinks she might believe him. Instead, he hears a soft sneer come out from her lips.

“You think after everything between us I would ever believe a word that comes out of your mouth? I fell for it once, Jaehyun. I won’t ever commit that mistake again,” she hisses, and before he can say anything else she walks away back to the crew.

No one followed them during their argument and no one heard what was said, but some people had their suspicions. Naomi even asked Hana why she stormed off after the scene and what she and Jaehyun talked about. All sorts of rumors had spread around, but none had spread outside the crew thanks to both their managers keeping an eye. Most of the rumors had a sense of truth, from Hana not liking Jaehyun for unknown reasons to the possibility of him being after her and getting rejected.

However, everything was forgotten two days later when Thursday came. It was June 6, meaning it was Donghyuck’s birthday. To the surprise of even her friend, both Head Producer Park and Producer Lee had reserved a Korean restaurant in Allston to celebrate his birthday a week in advance. Everyone was invited, including Hana’s parents. Hana even deduced it was her mom who helped them pick a place since the owner of the restaurant is a family friend and there is no way that was a coincidence.

Everyone was eating and drinking while music played in the background. It didn’t feel that much different from a regular workplace outing in Seoul. There was laughter, stories, and even people flirting around. It felt great, the aura was amazing.

“Look, isn’t that Donghyuck flirting with Danielle?” she hears Naomi and looks up to find her best friend throwing obvious pick-up lines at the waiter. Horrifying enough, the waiter is the owner’s daughter and someone Hana knows since little.

She’s about to say something, but before she could even stand up she sees Danielle smirk, writes something down, and then put the note in her friend's pocket. A couple of people look surprised, some even start to whisper to each other. But her friend didn’t care that all their coworkers were seeing him flirt around.

“I’ll make sure to call tonight,” Donghyuck winks at her and Hana hears some people gasp in surprise.

Hana didn’t even know Danielle was the flirty type too. They were never close and just saw each other when their families hung out together. From all she remembers, she used to be shy, awkward and rarely talked to guys. Hana thought she was cute but never dared make a move. The fact that Donghyuck is now flirting with her in the open and she returned it blows her mind. Either people really do change or Donghyuck might be right about his powerful charisma.

Manager Jeon goes towards Donghyuck and Hana knows her best friend is about to get an earful. They both leave as Hana can faintly hear Manager Jeon’s nags. Soon enough people are looking at each other and whispering. This worries Hana, it’s not well received when an actor is found to be flirty. Donghyuck has always been a flirt, but never this risky. If word of this gets out it could hurt his career.

She hates this about the industry and the fact she and her friends don’t have a private life. But she can’t seem to understand why Donghyuck would pull out a move like that in front of the entire crew. That’s until she hears a few people talk.

“Well, I guess Hana and Donghyuck were saying the truth,” one of the staffers concludes.

“I tried to tell you those dating rumors were weird. I have heard he’s a huge flirt,” another staffer adds.

She lets the two staffers speak since they haven’t said anything offensive at the very least. Hearing them made Hana realize that Donghyuck might have done this to finally put the rumors to rest. Not that he is trying to use Danielle, she’s sure he is indeed interested. But while in different circumstances he would have been discreet and saved it for later, today he decided to throw everything out the window.

“Donghyuck won’t be getting in trouble for this, right?” Naomi whispers worried and Hana sighs.

“I hope not,” she looks towards the exit Donghyuck and Manager Jeon took but haven’t yet come back from, “He shouldn’t, it’s stupid, honestly. As long as no one starts talking about it out of here I think he should be fine.”

“That fucking sucks, getting in trouble just for flirting. Danielle was interested too, I’m sure she trusts him because he’s your best friend,” she protests and all Hana can do is nod.

“I have a question, though. Have you dated anyone? From what I have seen people over in South Korea don’t seem to take well when celebrities date. Is it that bad?” Naomi asks concerned making Hana stop, should she tell her?

Naomi does seem to respect Jaehyun and get along with him despite barely interacting. She also knows this is not the time and place to reveal her past.

“It quite is,” she admits, “Just the possibility of dating Haechan got some of his “fans” going around saying how much they hated me. Even some of my “fans” went to his SNS to tell him how much he didn’t deserve me. Some would even go on about how disappointed they were with us for it.”

“It still happens here in the US too. Of course, agencies and most serious reporters don’t treat it like it is a crime. I had a girlfriend for a few months last year and when people found out I did some people made comments after shows here and there. How has it been for you?” Naomi keeps asking and Hana grabs a shot of soju and chugs it.

“I have dated, of course, I have. Most of them didn’t last long, though. I had a guy I was seeing on and off in my last year of high school. For the past two years, I have been seeing people here and there. The fear of being found out is exhausting, especially when it’s a gay relationship. But…” she stops herself before she mentions Jaehyun, but as she looks at Naomi and is attentive she looks, she decides to at least share something, “I did date someone for 2 years.”

“2 years? That’s both a long time and so little,” Naomi notes and Hana nods in agreement.

That’s exactly how it felt with Jaehyun, long but also cut too short.

“He was a bigger actor than I was back then. I was for the most part unknown, I was growing, but slowly. We were able to keep our relationship hidden for the most part. And then a reporter almost got us and his agency got mad at him. He decided to break up because I was a liability to his career,” Hana explains and Naomi’s mouth gapes.

“He did not!” she whispers-yells, “Who was the asshole? I want to punch him.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she chuckles in irony, “It’s been two years, I have moved on.”

“But if he still is a big actor I’m sure there will be times you gotta be around him. That sucks,” she shakes her head, “At the very least he must be regretting letting you go. Look at you now. He must feel like a fool.”

At this, Hana looks down a few tables down where Jaehyun is sitting. Right next to him is Manager Kim and other people on his team. His shoulders are down and his face looks somber. Almost as if he sensed her, he looks up and their eyes meet.

He must really feel like a fool now.

MASTERLIST

A/N: Chapter 4 is already done and will be posted by next Sunday.

#Sol's originals #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun angst #jaehyun fluff #actor au #exes2lovers au #e2l au

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accidentalmistress · 1 year

Text

Accidental Mistress - Take

Know what today is? IT'S DOUBLE POST DAY.

That's right, I'm posting two Accidental Mistress fics, because the one that was scheduled to be posted today (this one) is really dang short. And you, my lovely readers, deserve more. So more you shall have!

Also this one is kind of sad and doesn't have any sneeze content, only whump. WARNING: this piece delves a bit into Noelle's past trauma and therefore may be a little heavy. If you're only in the mood for sexy fun, you may want to skip to the next piece.

(More Accidental Mistress content can be found on the Master Post.)

Title: Take

Word Count: 660

Content and Warnings: whump, sexual assault (remembered)

In which painful memories make a midnight manifestation.

---------------------

"You are forgetting your place, my dear little Single-winged Sparrow."

Such a voice, soft as a mother's caress and beautiful as the rain, should not be able to say such things. If felt as an injustice to the very order of the world.

"Remember, I have but a single use for you, as you have failed my every other expectation."

Fingers cold as death touched her face. She wanted to shrink away from that touch, but her body would not obey.

"I do not tolerate failure, my dear… but I am not wasteful of things with some value. There is still a chance for you to bear the Sisterhood a daughter who possesses the aptitude you do not. So long as you serve this purpose, you have worth to me."

Those fingers grabbed her jaw, sharp nails digging into her cheeks, as the smoking void that was a face glared at her with unseen eyes.

"I will send another this night. You had best hope that this time your womb accepts the seed, for if you cannot fulfill even this simple task… then I have no use for you."

The hand released her jaw with a harsh shove that knocked her back onto the floor.

"Things that are useless, worthless, have no purpose or value—such things I do not squander my time upon. I am not wasteful. Remember that, little Single-winged Sparrow."

Somehow she found her voice as the sound of footsteps retreated and darkness closed in.

"Mother… Please, no… Please! Mother?"

The gilded cage with the void-face inside swayed as it was carried further and further away, ignoring her cries.

"Mother! Please don't… I don't want to…"

As the last of the light faded, leaving her in suffocating darkness, another set of footsteps approached. Heavier. Harder.

"No… No, please! I don't want to! Mother!"

A vague shape in the dark, an oppressive shadow, pressed in on her, smothering her as rough hands touched her body, held her down. Her movements were sluggish and weak, powerless against the unfolding horror. The shadow forced her legs apart, even as she sobbed.

"Mother!"

Noelle shot up in bed, clutching her blankets to her chest as sweat ran down her back and dripped from her brow. Her lungs pulled in gulps of air with shuddering breaths. The room swam in the darkness without her glasses, but relief washed over her with the affirmation that it was indeed her room.

"Mmh? What is it?"

His sleepy voice beside her was tinged with concern. Even as traces of the nightmare lingered in the tears on her cheeks, she didn't want to worry him. Those memories belonged in the past.

"It's n-nothing." Her voice betrayed her with a quaver. "Just a… a dream."

She waited for him to turn over and go back to sleep. She could process this on her own, always had. Instead Oraion sat up next to her, his touch a gentle warmth on her arm.

"What do you need?"

A sob welled in her throat. His hands were never rough with her, never touched her in ways she did not like, never forced her to do things she did not want. Noelle fell against him, pressing her face into his chest. How could a demon be the kindest person she knew? The only people in her life that deserved to be called demonic were always human.

"It's all right, I’m here. I will never allow anything to harm you… my dear Mistress."

Strong arms pulled her in close, rubbing her back with a large, warm hand. Sheltered in his embrace, she believed him. Under the protection of Oraion, wielding the power of a Greater Demon, she would never again experience those horrors. Even if she was a sparrow with only one wing, Oraion would always be there to lend her his.

Once Noelle’s tears had dried, she fell asleep cradled in her beloved Servant’s arms, and that night she dreamed no more.

#accidental mistress #oraion the allergic incubus #noelle the awkward witch #whump fic #whump

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spandexbutterfly4lyfe · 1 year

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what is the evolutionary purpose of grief? :0

Okay so this is going to be a rambly 2 am “itching out of my mind due to nerve and mast cell problems” kind of explanation based in academic studies and years of therapy rather than specific clinic recordings so take it with a grain of salt but!

Grief, when you boil it down, is a response to loss, and can be very powerful in getting an individual to prevent that loss, which as a social species and pattern based species evolutionarily benefits us greatly. Grief is primarily a reaction to loss of comfort, happiness, and safety, all things that we know in more specific instances like loss of love, lifestyle, routine, security & stability, familiarity, freedom, expectations for the future, and the like. Comfort, happiness, and safety are all very important to survival, and in a social species these are mainly expected to come from other people! So when we lose someone close to us, or even a stranger who is representative of something we’d like to be protected in this world (related to our own feeling of protection), it can hit really hard. Even when we lose something non-human or abstract, if what we’re losing is something we looked forward to, were proud of, expected of ourselves, took comfort in the routine of, etc. it’s very hard-hitting.

An example is that when someone close to us dies, something that often triggers a grief response is thinking to text that person or tell them what happened in your day before you remember that that can’t ever happen again. In this case, you’re not just feeling grief that the person isn’t alive — because let’s face it, we can still be horribly upset even if we’re fully aware that this means a person isn’t suffering anymore in many cases — you’re feeling the loss of the habit, of being able to rely on getting that social stimulation (happiness, comfort, etc) from continuing your routine, which you could reasonably expect the same rewards out of otherwise.

And, of course, human beings are pattern based, which is why we’re intelligent and survive despite being very physically vulnerable, but it means we remember negative emotions WAY MORE than positive ones. It’s why we’re so easy to traumatize, even if the severely negative event happened only once. So, as much as I’d like to say people are motivated by love or hope or whatever.. deep down, pretty much everything that motivates us directly relates to how we’d feel if we lost that good thing. So deeply that most people aren’t even aware of it. Fear is the primary human emotion, IMO. We don’t just run from fear, fear SHOVES us toward the things that calm fear, such as having a plan for life, and keeping our minds busy with stories and hobbies that bring us positive stimulation. Grief is not only a deterrent, but a reaction that is increased drastically when we were afraid of losing something on some level and we realize in the end that we weren’t able to stop from losing it even when we tried so hard not to.

So like, yeah, it’s intrinsically intertwined with survival. This is sort of psychological theory rather than what you’d typically hear in a therapy session, but that’s my true jam. “Evolutionary response” doesn’t just mean “something that makes life easier and happier on the species in question” lmao.

Again, feel free to disregard or disbelieve this post, I’m really going out of my mind exhausted and whatnot lately so I don’t have it in me to dig for sources to site, but honestly with the rudimentary phases psychology is in right now I wouldn’t be surprised if this hasn’t been delved into nearly as far as it should be at some point.

#cw death #death mention #long post

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antebunny · 2 years

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never fear, your fairy godmother is here!

(It's Wei Wuxian. He's the fairy godmother) (part one)

Living with Lan Wangji turns out to be a nightmare. Wei Wuxian learns this before he learns that his client is named Lan Wangji. It’s ironic, in a way. Here is Wei Wuxian, the eternal, magical being whose purpose is to make dreams come true, and Lan Wangji, who is supposed to be a hero worth magical intervention. Yet Wei Wuxian’s peaceful life turns upside down from the moment he shows Lan Wangji around the house.

“Here’s the bedroom,” Wei Wuxian says proudly. “Make yourself at home!”

He’s only proud because every other room in the house is a total mess. But the bedroom is large and clean, with the sheets still tucked in and the pillows fluffed. A large circular window filters in the sunset, casting an orange glow on the floorboards. The shelves are sparsely decorated and mostly empty. Attached to the bedroom is a small side room with an empty bath and neatly folded towels. Really the only problem is the layer of dust. Wei Wuxian doesn’t have to sleep. His house only has a bedroom because every house ought, but his lies abandoned, cold and clean.

Wei Wuxian snaps his fingers. The dust vanishes. He points one finger and the bathtub fills with steamy, perfumed water.

“Is this the only bedroom?” His client inquires.

“Yes?” Wei Wuxian replies.

His client backs up a step. The tips of his ears redden. “There is no need.”

Wei Wuxian frowns. No need for what? He’s offering a very nice bedroom, which happens to be clean because Wei Wuxian doesn’t use–

Oh. That’s right. He forgets sometimes he’s not human. “I don’t sleep,” Wei Wuxian explains. He backs out of the doorway and shoves his client in. “It’s all yours.”

His client refuses to be shoved. Instead he narrows his eyes at Wei Wuxian. “You need to sleep.”

Wei Wuxian blinks. Out of all the possible protests, he hadn’t expected that one. “No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do,” his client says flatly.

Once again Wei Wuxian is thrown at the familiarity in his client’s tone. They have just met, yet his client is picking a fight about his well-being? It is not unheard of for his clients. They tend to be the caring sort of people.

“I am not human,” Wei Wuxian says gently. His clients sometimes struggle accepting this notion. A good half of the human customs that Wei Wuxian follows are just because it makes things easier for his clients. Sometimes that makes things too easy. “I don’t sleep or eat. I haven’t slept in that bed in all the time I’ve had this house.”

“And how long have you had this house?” His client asks.

“Oh,” Wei Wuxian says, thrown once more. That’s one of the subtler ways of asking his age. It is impossible to describe his state of being to humans, but he always tries anyway. “Forever and never. A millennia or a day. Time doesn’t have to move in that step-by-step, linear fashion you humans think it does, you know.”

His client blinks slowly. “So your past life could be from any point in time.”

That’s not the follow-up Wei Wuxian expected. He doesn’t know that he had a past reincarnation. Perhaps he ought to ask Jiang Yanli? He considers reemphasizing his inhumanity but decides against it; his client has doubtless been through a lot tonight without having to ponder what it means to be human.

“Sure,” Wei Wuxian agrees.

He guides his client into the bedroom and this time his client lets himself be guided inside. The sun has slipped beneath the window but Wei Wuxian is sure his client can light himself a candle. Wei Wuxian slips his client’s forfeited forehead ribbon into his robes just before he lets go. It’s his client’s choice, but Wei Wuxian wants him to have the choice, rather than lose it forever to a flash-furious decision made in a darkened forest.

“We’ll get to work tomorrow morning, alright. Wait. What’s your name?”

His client freezes as if caught. He faces Wei Wuxian, who catches a look of disappointment flit across the exhausted lines of his face. It wouldn’t be hard for Wei Wuxian to figure it out himself, but really, isn’t it easy enough to just answer?

“Lan Zhan,” says his guest. “Courtesy Wangji.”

A Lan, as he suspected. Wei Wuxian is used to being right, but it’s still nice to hear. “Well then,” he says. “We’ll talk tomorrow, Lan Wangji.”

There is no mistaking what happens next. A brief, subtle and pure expression of pain creases Lan Wangji’s brows. But is it hurt? Discomfort? Insult? Wei Wuxian is not sure.

“Would you prefer to be addressed by a title?” Wei Wuxian ventures. Human titles change faster than the tides, so Wei Wuxian never bothers keeping up with them. But it’s no hardship to learn, especially for his clients, who usually have a meaningful history attached to their titles. “I can call you…” Wei Wuxian scrambles to think of what’s most likely appropriate for this time period. “Young Master Lan if you like.”

But Lan Wangji jerks his chin to the side, so sharply Wei Wuxian fears he’s injured his neck. If anything, he looks more hurt than before. Is he moving in the wrong direction?

“Lan Zhan, then?” Tentativity isn’t in Wei Wuxian’s nature, but he attempts to infuse some into his tone, worried about further upsetting his client’s fragile emotional state.

A taut line of tension that Wei Wuxian hadn’t noticed eases out of his client’s shoulders. He nods firmly, then whirls around, quite rudely shutting the bedroom door in Wei Wuxian’s face.

Well then. Wei Wuxian sighs and strolls away from the bedroom. Lan Zhan is proving to be one of those confusing clients. It’s not like this time period and culture to be this informal and personal so soon, and Lan Zhan doesn’t strike Wei Wuxian as a casual, easy-going person. But if he prefers his personal name, then that’s what he’ll use.

He slips out the front door. Evening has settled in. Tiny yellow-green lights wink in and out above the waters of the heavenly piers; fireflies and their intermittent glow.

“Ah, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian murmurs to himself. “You better not be my first failed client. Jiang Cheng will never let me hear the end of it.”

A crow circles down from the sky. Wei Wuxian extends one arm and the crow lands on it, claws digging in. “Go find me the story of Lan Wangji,” he instructs.

The crow takes off. Deep in a Gusu forest, thousands of birds turn their attention to the cultivators in white and the sect they come from. His clients always have an intriguing story to their name, but Wei Wuxian is beginning to suspect that the story of Lan Wangji is more interesting than most.

Dawn rises over the heavenly Lotus Pier and with it rises Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian knows only because he hears the quiet shushing of blankets being brushed aside. He’s been waiting for Lan Zhan to wake up as patiently as he knows how. Breakfast is quietly steaming on the table, perpetually the perfect temperature.

When Lan Zhan finally emerges from the bedroom, Wei Wuxian is drumming his fingers on the table impatiently. Still, he notes that Lan Zhan is wearing the same dirt and bloodstained robes he wore yesterday, and remembers belatedly that humans can’t change their appearance at will like he can. He makes a mental note to do something about that. Lan Zhan himself looks much better. His eyes are no longer bloodshot and puffy, his face is clean and his hair has been washed and combed.

He’s not wearing his forehead ribbon.

Wei Wuxian debates asking Lan Zhan if he found the forehead ribbon in his robes before deciding against it. He has more important questions to ask.

“Sit down, sit down!” Wei Wuxian waves Lan Zhan over to the breakfast table.

Lan Zhan surveys the bowls of congee and Wei Wuxian’s smiling face. He sits down on the mat, directly across from Wei Wuxian.

“So,” Wei Wuxian prompts. “The crows tell me you’re the second son of Sect Leader Lan.”

Lan Zhan pauses, spoon full of congee halfway to his mouth. He puts it back on the bowl. When he speaks, it is not about the crows or any sort of question. “There is no talking during meals.”

Something about his intonation reminds Wei Wuxian of a recitation. “Is this one of your sect’s rules?”

“Yes.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes flicker up to Lan Zhan’s bare forehead, to the hair that spills loose and heavy over his broad shoulders. “I see.”

He thought he was subtle about it but Lan Zhan follows the eye movement and looks away.

“It is of no matter here,” Lan Zhan says eventually.

“Right,” Wei Wuxian agrees slowly, “so, you’re the second son of Sect Leader Lan.” Who has been in seclusion since before Lan Zhan was born, if Wei Wuxian’s rough estimate of his age is correct. And the crows failed to find a mother. Hadn’t Lan Zhan asked him if he could resurrect the dead? “Is that what your wish is about?”

Lan Zhan takes a spoonful of congee. He closes his eyes briefly, perhaps enjoying the food, or restraining some deep emotion, before slowly returning his spoon to the bowl. “No.”

Wei Wuxian isn’t sure he believes that, but he lets it go. “Okay…is it your sect, then?” He waves vaguely at Lan Zhan’s forehead. “Is that it?”

“No.”

Wei Wuxian huffs. “Then is it the Wens?”

Lan Zhan’s fingers tighten on his spoon. He says nothing.

Sensing he’s on the right path, Wei Wuxian continues. “The crows say some Wen prisoners escaped yesterday, and quite a few Lans were injured. Is that the problem? Is that your wish?”

“I have no wish,” Lan Zhan snaps. He puts his spoon down. His face is flushed.

“Okay, maybe you don’t have a wish,” Wei Wuxian amends. “But you have a problem. A problem that I am going to fix, or I wouldn’t have been called to you.”

Lan Zhan remains quiet, neither eating nor speaking. Wei Wuxian begins to worry if he’s even breathing. Eventually he says, quietly: “My problem cannot be fixed.”

Wei Wuxian scoffs loudly. “Lan Zhan, there’s not a problem in this world I can’t fix.”

Lan Zhan turns accusatory eyes on him. “You said you cannot resurrect the dead.”

There it is again. Wei Wuxian recalls that dark forest, Lan Zhan’s silent tears, his wild, bloodshot eyes, and wonders if he should have arrived earlier. But he came when called. It is impossible for Wei Wuxian to be late. Whatever happened in that forest, it is still possible for Lan Zhan to get his happy ending. He will get his happy ending. Wei Wuxian just needs to figure out who exactly died in that forest and how.

“A dead loved one,” Wei Wuxian concludes.

His client says nothing. He closes his eyes and tears begin to slip out. Lan Zhan flattens his palms on the table, congee forgotten, clearly restraining some deep emotion. Wei Wuxian knows what it is this time: grief. Plain and palpable.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says gently. “You are not my first client with a dead loved one. These cases generally fall into one of two categories. First, the loved one was not the one.” That encapsulates everything from a revealed betrayal to the client growing up and moving on, but Wei Wuxian can already see Lan Zhan’s face twisting, so he moves on hurriedly. “Second, the loved one wasn’t really truly dead.”

Lan Zhan narrows his eyes at this. “How?”

“Oh, all sorts of ways,” Wei Wuxian says vaguely. “Depends on how they ‘died.’ From my centuries of experience, I have to say I have a feeling that you’re number two.” You don’t seem the type to love easily, he doesn’t say.

Surprisingly, Lan Zhan has something to say to this. He reaches for his congee again, mechanically feeding himself. Only once he has finished consuming his meal does he speak up. “I agree.”

Wei Wuxian clears his throat. “Sooo,” he prompts, leaning in. “Which one is it? Family, sect, or loved one?”

Lan Zhan places his hands on his knees and looks down, deep in thought. From Wei Wuxian’s angle he can clearly see Lan Zhan’s furrowed brow. When he finally looks up, his face is blank again. Wei Wuxian worries he’ll go back to denying all alleged pain and problems.

“All three,” Lan Zhan answers.

Wei Wuxian slumps. “Aiyah. You couldn’t make my job any easier, huh?”

“I apologize for the inconvenience.” Lan Zhan inclines his head stiffly.

Wei Wuxian out-right groans. “Forget it, forget it. I’m joking. I love my job. Best job in the world.” He vanishes the breakfast dishes with a thought and stands up. “Listen, I’m gonna go do some sp–information gathering with the crows. You entertain yourself, alright? You have free reign of the place. But don’t wander too far. This place isn’t meant for humans. I’ll know if you’re in danger, but still.” Wei Wuxian attempts to point sternly. “Don’t.”

An infinitesimally small smile tugs at Lan Zhan’s face. “Understood.”

#mdzs #the untamed #wei wuxian #lan wangji #my fanfiction #my writing

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