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girlgenius1111 · 2 months

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i'll angel in the snow until i'm worthy

putellas!reader [p2 to make it through the winter if it kills me] tw: contains descriptions of self harm. a long look back at what happened a year ago, when alexia found out. a brief glimpse into the present.

“Alexia,” you called. Your tone didn’t reflect the urgency of the situation, and Alexia didn’t think to be alarmed when she answered you.

“In the kitchen.” She replied, assuming you would come to her.

“Alexia,” you yelled again. This time, some fear leaked into your tone, and you knew your sister had heard it. Her footsteps were loud, stomping down the hall, and to the door of your room. She pushed it open without a second thought, eyes widening in panic.

“Fuck.” To her credit, Alexia moved fast. She was grabbing a towel from the linen closet and sprinting back to your side before you had time to try to say anything, pressing it down on your leg hard.

“Okay, okay. We’re okay. Everything is fine.” You weren’t sure if your sister was reassuring herself, or you.

You didn’t know what had happened. One second you were tracing the familiar lines on your leg with your finger, the next, you had a blade in your hand, and you’d pushed just a bit too deep. It was bleeding. A lot. You didn’t know if you needed stitches, if something was wrong, but you knew that you weren’t in the right mind to deal with it. In your moment of panic, you called for Alexia. You trusted her to fix it. To fix you.

Alexia’s eyes were stuck on you, stuck on your leg. Your shorts were pulled up, and if Alexia had ever thought that this was an accident, she no longer did so. The scars marking your skin told a different story, and as your sister stared down at your leg, her horror was evident on her face.

Alexia was speechless, and your sister was never speechless. If she were to be honest, she didn’t know what to do. Here you were, in front of her, clearly not doing well. And she hadn’t noticed. You’d been doing this for long enough for there to be numerous scars on your body, and she hadn’t noticed.

You, too, had no idea what to say. Calling for her had been an instinct, but now that the panic had left your body a bit, you regretted it with every fiber of your being. She was going to freak out, you were sure of it.

She kept her composure longer than you expected, long enough for the bleeding to stop. She pulled the towel away from your leg and inspected the damage that you’d done. It wasn’t as bad as it had seemed originally, and you sighed in relief. At least you wouldn’t be dragged to the hospital. Before you’d really even had time to really be grateful for that, Alexia was fixing you with a piercing stare, a slew of words leaving her mouth that reflected very clearly her feelings on the situation.

“What the fuck is this, nena? What were you thinking? I- I don’t understand, what would possess you to do something so incredibly stupid. This could have gone deeper, this could have needed stitches. What then, hmm? This is not okay, pequeña, and it stops, now.”

Alexia wasn’t even quite sure what she was saying, her heart racing in her ears as she panicked. She was terrified. You always put on such a happy exterior, and it was beyond frightening that she’d had no idea, not even a clue, that this had been going on. You lived with her, you spent everyday together, and she’d been completely oblivious to the fact that you were hurting so badly, you’d turned to this. She felt like she’d failed you, failed your mom, failed everyone. She was supposed to take care of you, and protect you.

None of these sentiments were expressed, though. Instead, she practically shouted at you, not sure what to say or do, other than make sure, make completely sure, that you’d never do this again. A pained look flashed across your face, before it was replaced with one of defiance. You stood up, shoving your sister away from you.

“It’s fine, Alexia. This is none of your business, please, just leave.”

Alexia scoffed, rising to her feet too. “Leave? Leave. I’m not letting you out of my sight ever again. I’ll take your door off the hinges if that's what it takes but this cannot happen again, do you understand?”

Your sister didn’t understand. Never in her life had she felt the need to do something like this, and her mind was not focused on trying to understand where your head was at, it was only on making sure you were safe. She didn’t know that you needed this, more than you needed anything. It was the only thing you had, the only thing you could rely on to make yourself feel better. She couldn’t take this away, you wouldn’t survive it.

“Fine, I won’t do it again. Get out.” You lied, shoving her towards the door. Your sister shook her head, seeing clearly through your lie, pushing you right back.

Despite her shove, she forced herself to take a few deep breaths, to calm the situation down. “No. We need to talk about this, we need to fix it. Give me your phone, I need to call mom.” Alexia reached her hand out, freezing at the look on your face. At the mention of your mother, all the color drained from your face, and you stepped backwards, shaking your head frantically.

“Alexia, don’t you dare, mom does not need to know about this, you can’t tell her, you can’t tell anyone.”

“I have to tell people to get you help, nena, mom needs to know, the club needs to know,” Alexia rationalized, stepping closer, her hands raised in a soothing manner.

“NO. Alexia, you cannot tell anyone this, you can’t. I don’t need help. There is no issue, I am fine. I won’t do it again, I promise, Alexia, I promise. Please, just please don’t tell anyone. Please.” You begged, tears beginning to well in your eyes.

Your sister’s frustration only grew. How could you say you were fine? How could you say you didn’t need help? It was absurd, completely absurd to her, that you could think this was okay.

“Pequeña, either there is an issue, and you need help, or there is no issue, and you just wanted my attention. You have it, sí? So which is it?” She spoke slowly and carefully, only realizing she’d said the wrong thing only when you flushed red with anger, hands connecting with her chest again, harder this time. She stumbled backwards, not expecting it, and you moved right past her, fleeing through your bedroom door.

Attention. Attention? How could she say that, how could she possibly think that? You didn’t want her to know. This was your thing, it was none of her business. It had nothing to do with your self centered, overbearing sister, and it made you livid that she’d think to say that. You ran down the stairs, shorts rubbing painfully at the open wounds on your leg. You weren’t quite sure where you were going, but you couldn’t be here anymore, not with Alexia. Not if she was going to insist on talking about this, insist on acting like you’d done something horrible.

“Come back, now, pequeña, don’t you dare leave this house.” Alexia shouted after you, rushing down the stairs just a second too late, the front door slamming shut just before she reached it. She was panicking now, panicking for real, as she threw the door open and stepped outside, just in time to see you start her Cupra, backing it out of the driveway. Your sister stood frozen, watching as you drove away, so worried she thought she might be sick.

She didn’t know where you were going, or what you were going to do. You’d taken the only car at home, and she had no way to go after you. Alexia stepped back in the house, looking for her phone. She needed Olga to come home, now. Olga would know what to say, she’d know where you were going. She was perfect like that, knew you almost as well as Alexia did. When your sister lost her head at you, Olga was the first one to calm things down. Alexia needed Olga, now, more than she’d ever needed anyone in her life.

-----

You didn’t go far. Only a few blocks to Mapi and Ingrid’s apartment, parking the car, and taking the elevator up to their floor, pitifully knocking on the door, hoping to god they were home

Mapi knew. She’d known for a few weeks, after she’d caught a glimpse of your leg when you hadn’t changed quick enough in the locker room. Unlike your sister, she hadn’t freaked out. She’d picked you up later that day, making an excuse that she needed your advice on a gift for Ingrid, driving you guys to the beach, before she brought it up. Mapi was kind, compassionate about it. She told you what you needed to hear, realizing that you were not quite at the point of stopping. Mapi knew she had to discuss this delicately, that pushing you too hard too soon would only do the opposite of what she wanted. All she asked of you was that you talk to her more. She’d promised you that she’d help you figure everything out, that you’d do everything at your pace. She’d promised she wouldn’t tell Alexia, if you promised to be honest with her. You’d kept her promise, and she’d kept hers. You were probably only a few minutes from calling her and asking for her to come get you when you’d panicked, and decided to call for your sister. Mapi always knew what to say after- not making you feel guilty, or stupid, but not sugar coating everything either. She’d told you, about a thousand times, that if you needed her, to call or come over. No matter what.

You were still pretty closed off from her, and Mapi wasn’t expecting you to take her up on that offer. She moved quickly, though, when she pulled open the door and caught sight of you, arms wrapped around yourself, shaking enough for it to be visible.

“Hey, nena,” she murmured, guiding you into the house and right into a tight hug. “What happened?” She asked, making eye contact with Ingrid over the top of your head. Ingrid knew too, mostly because Mapi didn’t keep things from her girlfriend. You trusted Ingrid, too, as much as you trusted Mapi, even if you didn’t rely on her in the same way.

“Ale knows,” you cried. “I cut too deep and I called for her and she freaked out, Maps, she was so mad,”

This wasn’t good. Mapi knew Alexia well, and knew how quick she was to respond with anger when she was scared. There was no doubt in the defender’s mind that this is what happened. If past fights were any indication, you’d likely fled before Alexia could really understand what was going on. You were Mapi’s priority, though. She took a calming breath, before pulling away and putting her hands on your shoulders. “I’ll take care of it, alright? Just try to relax. Go with Ingrid, she’ll patch you up. I’ll call your sister.”

“Mapi,” you began, not feeling at all interested in facing your sister anytime soon.

Mapi could be strict when she wanted to be, though, and she shook her head firmly. “No, she needs to know you’re okay. Go with Ingrid.”

Reluctantly, you turned to where Ingrid was waiting for you, first aid kit somehow already in hand. She led you out to their little terrace, settling you both in chairs before she asked you to roll up your shorts. To her credit, she didn’t flinch, only blinking a few times before she got to work cleaning and bandaging.

“You know Mapi wants another cat?” She said after a minute, glancing up at you. You choked out a laugh, wiping at your eyes.

“Bagheera is not made to be a sibling, she’s much too spoiled for that.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling her, but you know how she gets.” Ingrid agreed, very easily distracting you. You fell into conversation with her, most of it at Mapi’s expense. As if Ingrid wasn’t cleaning your cut, as if she wasn’t bandaging the wound you’d inflicted on yourself.

-----

Inside, Mapi was trying to prepare herself to call Alexia. Your sister would not be happy that Mapi had known about this and kept it to herself, but the defender had been doing what was best for you. Her plan was to get you to tell your sister eventually, once you’d warmed up to the idea a bit more. It was too late for that, now, so she clicked Alexia’s contact. The speed with which your sister answered clued Mapi into how truly panicked Alexia must have been. Alexia was famously awful at answering her phone, but she must have had it right in hand, waiting to hear from you, before Mapi had called.

“María,” Alexia began, seconds away from begging Mapi to help her look for you.

“She’s here, Ale. She’s here, she’s with me and Ingrid, and she’s completely fine.”

“She- she’s there? With you?” There was a pause, muffled voices hitting Mapi’s ear as Alexia assumedly relayed the information to Olga. “Mapi she’s hurt,”

“I know. Ingrid’s taking care of it. Why don’t you come over?”

“You know? She told you? Why are you being so calm about this María?” Ever observant, and ever suspicious, Alexia was alarmed at how little surprise and anxiety was notable in her best friend’s voice.

“She told me. Just come over, Ale, we can talk about it. Bring Olga, she makes you act like less of a crazy person.”

-----

Alexia must have done some thinking on the short drive to Mapi’s because she came in guns blazing. Mapi was being too calm about this. The seemingly random increase in time she’d been spending with you was now making more sense. Mapi had known. Mapi had known that Alexia’s baby sister was hurting herself, and the defender hadn’t told her.

“You knew.” Alexia accused, pushing past Mapi to enter the apartment, Olga trailing behind her. Mapi nodded her head. “You knew and you didn’t tell me.”

“She wasn’t ready for you to know. She didn’t think you’d react well, and clearly she was right.” There was no malice behind Mapi’s words, but Alexia responded like there had been.

“How I react is none of your business, María. Where is she? I'm taking her home.”

“She’s on the terrace with Ingrid.” Alexia stopped her pacing, turning towards the sliding door, spotting the back of your head through the clear glass. Mapi stopped her.

“Not yet, we need to talk first.” She said carefully, not backing down when Alexia turned back to her, the captain’s face fixed with an intense, fury filled expression.

“María, I appreciate you taking care of her, but I am taking my sister home. Now. I’ll deal with you later.”

Mapi shook her head, looking to Olga for help, knowing that although she could probably stop Alexia from going out there to get you, she’d rather not have to do so. Olga stepped closer, placing a careful hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder. Alexia’s body deflated at the contact, and she turned towards the brunette, suddenly looking much less angry, and much more upset.

“Let’s hear Mapi out, okay? I know you’re mad, but she’s your best friend, and you trust her. If she didn’t tell you, she had a reason. If she wants to talk before we take pequeña home, she has a reason. Ingrid’s got your sister, let’s just take a moment to relax.”

As if hypnotized, Alexia nodded gently, flopping exhaustedly onto the couch. Mapi took a careful seat in the chair across from her, while Olga sat next to Alexia, keeping a calming hand on her leg. Privately, the defender wondered how differently this would be going if Olga wasn’t here. All her teammates gave her so much shit, constantly, for being completely whipped for Ingrid. Though this wasn’t a story Mapi would ever tell, she wished, briefly, that she could present the evidence that her tough captain was down just as bad for her own girlfriend.

Mapi took a breath, thinking carefully about how she wanted to start this. She wasn’t sure how to make your sister understand, but she’d try her best.

-----

Ingrid could keep small talk up for a long time, it turned out. Through the raised voices, and even when they quieted down, Ingrid kept you talking. Eventually, after you glanced back inside nervously for the 5th time that minute, the Norwegian gave up on distracting you.

“She’s not mad at you. I don’t know what she said, and I know it probably feels like she’s angry, but she’s not. She’s scared, and she’s worried about you. She just loves you a lot, and she’s not sure what to do.”

Hesitantly, you leaned over, resting your head on Ingrid’s shoulder. “She’s going to make me stop.”

“You were always going to have to stop. This isn’t healthy. Alexia is going to be more intense than María was, but she was always going to do everything she could to make you stop, to help you get better.”

“She asked me if I was doing it for attention.”

Ingrid sighed. Sometimes, she wished her normally level-headed captain was more level-headed when it came to the people she loved. That intensity was what made Alexia, Alexia. A fierce love that knew no bounds, though it had its drawbacks.

“You’re not.” Ingrid dismissed. “Even if you were, elskling, that doesn’t make you a bad person. You need help. If you were trying to tell your sister that in this way, it just means you need help. You’re sick, honey. You need help, you deserve help, and if I know you’re sister at all, she’s going to get you help if it’s the last thing she does.”

That, at least, you agreed with.

-----

When Mapi was finished giving Alexia a long lecture, a role reversal if either of them had ever experienced one, she walked to the door, knocking softly. Ingrid led you back inside, taking in the very grim expressions on everyone’s faces. Alexia looked destroyed, honestly, and Ingrid knew it was a combination of factors; guilt that she had missed this, and guilt that she’d been so harsh earlier.

Your sister didn’t move when you walked in, but Olga did, pressing a kiss to your forehead, before pulling you in close. You clung to her, and your sister watched out of the corner of her eye, the way you collapsed into her girlfriend without a second thought. She’d never felt worse in her life, never felt like she’d failed so greatly. The feeling only grew when Olga released you, and you finally looked at your sister with so much apprehension that Alexia wanted to cry.

You didn’t move any closer to your sister, and you didn’t look at her again, instead focusing your attention on Mapi.

“Nena, do you want to stay here tonight? You can go home and talk to Ale tomorrow.” Mapi offered.

Your eyes flickered to your sister, shocked when she didn’t object. Instead, she nodded stiffly, speaking more to the ground than to you. “If you want to stay, you can. I’d rather you come home, but if you would feel better here, then I want you to stay.” Alexia paused, looking hesitantly between Olga and you. “We don’t need to talk tonight, I won’t call Mom, I won’t tell anyone. I… we will do what makes you comfortable.”

You looked between the older girls, finding everyone’s attention fixed on you. They were giving you control, it seemed, truly allowing you to decide what you wanted to do. It calmed you, no longer feeling completely powerless. And even though you were hurt, and angry with Alexia, even though you kind of wanted to shove her again, you could tell she was trying. Trying to make up for what she’d done and how she’d acted. You knew Alexia, and you knew she was probably terrified right now, and having you stay here would probably keep her up all night. You loved her too much to stress her out like that. And if Alexia stayed as calm as she was now, you’d feel much better at home.

-----

Alexia had promised you, and Olga, and Mapi, that she wouldn’t make you talk tonight. It was proving difficult, however, more difficult than she anticipated, as the three of you sat in the living room, none of you paying attention to the football match playing on the TV. You’d wanted to go to your room, but the look of pure panic on your sister’s face when you headed for the stairs was enough to have you turning around, albeit grumpily, to join the two older girls in the living room.

You didn’t particularly feel like talking. Your frustration with your sister was fading rapidly though. Her eyes flicked over to you every minute, it seemed, and she’d attached herself to Olga the minute the brunette had joined her on the couch. Alexia wasn’t one for PDA, not in front of family or anyone. What she was doing couldn’t even really be considered PDA, but it was more than Alexia usually allowed. She’d captured Olga in a half hug, wrapping her arm tight around her and pulling the brunette into her chest. Olga had allowed it willingly, tangling her hand with Alexia’s, knowing she needed the comfort right now. If she was seeking it out so openly, neither you nor Olga could really even guess what was going on inside her head.

As time passed, Alexia remained firmly wrapped around her girlfriend, looking over at you every few seconds, as if to assure herself that you were still there, still safely next to her. You felt more and more that you had to say something. Anything, to assure Alexia that you were alright, at least for now. You weren’t going anywhere. She didn’t need to worry so much. Of course, that was something she’d been hearing her whole life, and it wasn’t something you’re sure she’d ever listened to.

The problem was that you weren’t sure what to say. You didn’t want to say the wrong thing, but you couldn’t stand the anxiety radiating off your sister any longer, so you reached out your hand, laying it on the couch by her. Alexia grabbed it instantly, squeezing tight, and you heard her let out a relieved sigh. At least now, she wasn’t staring at you anymore.

It was another 20 minutes before you spoke up. “Ale, I’m really sorry.” For 20 minutes of thinking, it was admittedly rather pathetic, but it was something.

Your sister and Olga looked at you instantly, Olga immediately shaking her head at you, nudging Ale when she didn’t respond right away.

“You don’t need to be sorry. I shouldn’t have made you feel like that before. I didn’t understand, I don’t really understand, but I will do whatever you need from me. Just talk to me, please, that’s all I need from you.”

There was a choice in front of you, one you were conflicted about. You wanted to talk, but you didn’t know what to say. You wanted to stop, but you didn’t know how. You wanted to feel better, but you weren’t sure that was possible. You could keep doing what you’d been doing. You were still alive, that proved that it worked, at least a bit. Or you could put your faith in your sister, who was absolutely desperate to help you. Alexia was good at fixing things. You hoped that applied to people too.

-----

Alexia thought about that day a lot, and the days that followed. It always struck her that even in some of your toughest moments, you worried about her too. That’s what came with being sisters, she supposed. She wasn’t your parent, and she knew that. Most of the time. You worried about her just as much as she worried about you, though. Even when you were angry, when you had every right to be angry, you still reached out to hold your sister’s hand, to make sure that she wasn’t too stressed.

As she stood, with you still wrapped up tightly in her embrace, Alexia remembered how hard it had been for you last time. How hard it had been for all of you. It would be hard, again. Your sister knew you wouldn’t think you could do it again. She knew that you could.

Alexia had always believed in you, almost to a fault. She’d gotten you through this before, and she’d do it again. No matter what it took.

-----

not promising a part 3, but IF there was going to be one, let me know what you'd like to see.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #alexia putellas x reader #putellas!reader #woso one shot #woso fanfics

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booboothedude · 2 years

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it’s so fuckin weird spending a lot of time thinking abt media I actually like and that lots of other ppl also like and think about a lot. genuinely overwhelming

#this is about #ofmd #like for context the media i have historically spent lots of time thinking about are like #hp which has been more interesting at very meta levels than anything else since i was like 14 at the latest #and omgcp which is excellent but that community has never been that large and it is also like. a fairly self contained story ?#and then captain America which I have never seen and actively despise #and then tos which I like but it’s still more fun to analyze than to watch and not v Active right now #the gay pirates thing it’s like i have many thoughts and I want to actually look at the show and apply them and I can talk to ppl #and there is this like active and genuinely boundless well of incredible analysis and writing and art and discussion right now #and it’s kind of frightening bc it makes it So Possible to spend so much time feeling really hard yk #it’s also a lot of other things too like I think this is the queerest fan base of all of them #barring current tos fans actually that’s maybe queerer but again that’s so much smaller and it’s got these complicated historical elements #but like ofmd fic #and especially sex in ofmd fic #has such a high hit rate of being absolutely incredible and hot and good #even compared to like again small relatively queer/lgbtq things like omgcp #and i think a huge part of that is how QUEER everyone writing it is yk?? it feels like. Grounded maybe. or just like. normal and interesting

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sapphosclosefriend · 4 months

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- Money, Power, Glory pt 4 -

Pairing: CEO! Silverfox! Natasha Romanoff x Escort! Fem! Reader

Genre: fluff, angst, brief smut

Summary: you're finally ready to start getting to know more about each other while in Cuba. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Word count: 4k

Warnings: top! Natasha x bottom! R, Natasha has a penis, big age gap (N=56, R=24), talks of miscarriages (not R), big mommy issues, very brief smut.

A/N: this story contains smut and mature themes so anyone who isn’t 18+ DNI. I can't believe we're on schedule…if it keeps going well, the Christmas special will come out next week!!! As usual, thanks so so much to @supercorpdanbeau and @rt--link !!! As usual, likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated! Enjoy ♡

Masterlist

You could barely breathe and the sounds that kept fighting to come out of your mouth over and over made it even harder for you to draw in some much needed air.

You could only lay limp on your stomach while Natasha had her weight on her hands on either side of your waist, getting enough leverage to thrust deep and hard into you and make your eyes roll back as she graced your ears with her breathless swears. She was incredibly close and, after a few more harsher thrusts that you were sure had to have made you slide up the bed at least a bit, she reached her peak with loud groans as she intently filled your pussy with all of her cum. Finally getting the chance, you tried your best to get your breathing back to normal while she stayed still inside of you and tried to do the same. You looked even more beautiful to Natasha as you lay under her. You were always ready to take anything from her, and your heavenly afterglow along with the way your pussy clenched around her while still coming down from your own peak, could've easily gotten her going once again. Sensing your tiredness, though, she immediately stopped her impure, spiraling thoughts to carefully pull out of you as gently as she could while lightly caressing the small of your back at the small hiss you tried to hide, before leaning down to land a quick peck on your bare back.

“You did so good for me”

You could only tiredly hum at the murmured praise as the older woman moved off of you to clean herself up, retrieve something to do the same to you and get a glass of fresh water. You were fighting to keep your eyes open, knowing that you could've easily fallen asleep as soon as you blocked the light coming from the large window, but you lost your battle once she came back to take care of you. You were starting to drift off as soon as her soft hand touched your shoulder to tell you she was back, but still made out her quiet chuckle once she finished her task and settled back in her spot on the bed. Feeling her gaze on you, you opened your eyes to be greeted by her lying form next to you, amusingly looking at you as you still hadn't moved an inch.

“Shut up”

Your grumbled words as you tried to look at her through only one eye seemed to be a way too entertaining show for Natasha as she fought to hide a smirk threatening to come out.

“I didn't say anything”

She was full on smiling now as you rubbed your eyes to get a better view of her.

“You don't need to”

Your sluggish movements as you did your best to find a comfortable position while turning to your side to face her would've made you almost embarrassed with any other customer, but you both knew deep down that Natasha simply wasn't any other customer. You both felt so at ease with each other and when your professionalism slipped away to leave space for genuineness, you gave her the courage for the same to happen to her and the constant control she always had even over her own self would leave some space for a more relaxed version of her you couldn't help but appreciate more and more. You admittedly felt very lucky to be able to witness the real person behind the big title and even though she was still clearly not ready to disclose too personal information about herself yet, you appreciated the effort she had put into sharing small, apparently meaningless, bits of her with you. You cherished every single word, every action, every joke, every glance and, unbeknownst to you, Natasha only felt her heart clenching more the less you asked her about herself. She would've poured her heart out to you, if only to make you happy and to satisfy your curiosity, but she knew that such a thing just wasn't possible. And seeing your clear desire to know anything you could about her, yet your restraint to do so, warmed her heart at the prospect of someone finally understanding her for once and letting her go at her own pace.

The happiness that always came from such beautiful thoughts that, by then, plagued her mind, though, was always destined to get shattered. Because she knew, deep down, that you were just doing your job after all. Yes, you were getting to know her and you wanted to do so, but you weren't actively looking to start a relationship or anything so crazy. You were just a girl being way too nice with a woman like her. Your interest couldn't possibly be as deep as hers was becoming. She just had to keep shaking the strange fluttering in her stomach away every time you looked at her like you were doing now, but your pretty eyes and your even prettier face made it impossible for her hand to stay in its place and before she knew it she was caressing your warm cheek before leaning in to leave a small peck on your lips and bashing in the incredible feeling of your touch on her.

She couldn't believe she was once again feeling disappointment, yet this time around it pierced her heart just so much harder. This time it wasn't someone else hopefully trying to get through the thick wall she had created against the outside and giving up before succeeding. This time she was the one who couldn't get to the person she seeked because such person simply didn't want her in the same way. She hated how vulnerable she felt, yet, for once, such a feeling, instead of the anger she was used to experiencing, got even more curiosity out of her. If nothing serious could happen it didn't mean that she couldn't indulge herself into knowing the most about you she could.

Noticing the goosebumps on your arms you tried not to bring any attention to, she silently got up from the bed, not bothering to cover up her godly body, to get some clothes for the both of you. As you lay alone on your side and admired the cloudy sky, free of all sun rays, the sight of the sea moving back and forth outside slightly started lulling you further into relaxation, also thanks to the oxytocin still running high through you. You didn't even hear her steps as she approached the bed once again and the warm light she turned on slightly startled you, pulling you out of your brief trance and getting your attention back to her. She was standing at the foot of the bed with her gray hair up in a messy bun and wearing only a pair of black boxers and a wrinkly band t-shirt, a kind of look you'd never seen on her. She looked pretty, like one of the truest versions of herself there was and one that made you want to hug her as hard as you could.

She was holding a pair of underwear you recognised as yours, that she probably found in your luggage, and a beige, slightly damaged, cashmere sweater you knew for sure was hers. You had seen it so many times in her house, always somewhere in case she needed it, if she wasn't wearing it already. You didn't know why, but the thought of something so simple such as Natasha having a favorite sweater made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, especially knowing that she was offering it to you now.

As you thanked her for the clothes and put them on, not even bothering to get out of bed to do so, she gathered the duvet from the floor to lay it over the bed once you sat back, letting it cover you and immediately warming you up a bit. You only wanted to admire her long legs and the snippet of her stomach as her t-shirt rode up while she got into bed, but the smell coming from the fabric on your body almost got you back into the post sex trance you just exited. The sweater sat soft like a cloud on your skin and the sleeves, a little too long for you, offered you the opportunity to ball their remaining fabric around your fists, warming up your hands and almost forcing you to move them closer to your face to fully breathe in the scent that intoxicated you. It didn't just smell like her perfume, it smelled like her, like her skin, like her hair, like Natasha.

You could've fallen asleep right then and there, with the soft sound of her even breathing and her smell clouding your mind, but you opened your eyes once her fingers gently moved a strand of hair away from your face and tenderly caressed your cheekbone once again. The second your gaze met hers, the vast ocean outside of the yacht completely disappeared, leaving you alone to drown in the greenish, addicting sea that were her eyes, instead. Gosh, how gladly you would’ve died lost in their depth.

“Can I ask you…can I ask you something about yourself?”

Her murmured question, spoken so quietly and even unsurely, pulled your mind off the beautiful endlessness of her eyes.

“Sure…I'm not that interesting, though, compared to someone like you.”

“You’re very interesting to me.”

Her small voice as she muttered the words warmed your heart like never before and almost made you tear up at the genuine interest she seemed to have over you. It was a bit hard for you to open up, certainly not as much as it was for her, but you did your best not to hold back when you could, hoping to make her trust you enough to let her guard down if she wanted to. And so, with a small nod from you, she moved to lie on her side, holding her head up on her hand, while you wiggled closer to her until you found a comfortable position to look up at her from your spot as you lay down next to her.

“What do you wanna know?”

“Everything you wanna tell me.”

You never disclosed personal information to your customers, after all it's not like they really wanted to know anything about you. Whenever they asked you something it was always out of courtesy, never of true interest, so you would just find a polite way to discreetly deviate the conversation to something they actually had interest in. But seeing the little smile on her face as she sweetly waited for your response with so much interest in her eyes, warmed your heart like never before and made you feel as though you could've never stopped yourself from telling her whatever the hell she wanted.

“Sorry, I’m usually not very good at opening up”

You tried to justify your initial silence as you thought about something to start the conversation with, your mind overcrowded by a turmoil of emotions.

“It’s fine, it doesn’t seem like it, but I like listening to people I care about. Of course you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to, though.”

The sudden warmth in your cheeks at the mention of possibly being as lucky as being someone Natasha cared about immediately lost its importance, as you tentatively looked up at her. The disappointment you were afraid to meet wasn't anywhere on her face, though, as it was only filled with what you could only describe as love and care. She was at ease, she was talking and maybe she was even more than at ease. She trusted you. You couldn't ruin such an achievement and she needed to know that you noticed and you appreciated it.

“No no, I want to, really! I want to, Natasha”

You held her soft hand in yours as you intently looked at her in the eye as a way to reassure her of your willingness and, once you tried to let go, feeling slightly ashamed of your initial eagerness with your action, you were glad to feel her hold tighten on your hand, signaling she was more than fine with the contact.

“When we got here this morning you said the smell of the ocean reminded you of your childhood, why?”

You still seemed uncertain for a moment, but her comforting, warm hand in yours and her patient silence gave you the courage you needed to start talking to her. It surprised you how at ease you felt as soon as the first word left your mouth and after that, it was as if the floodgates had been opened.

"You know, there are studies that show how the faintest of smells or scents, in a mere millisecond can trigger whole memories that you never even knew you had or that you haven't thought about in years. That always happens to me with what I call the salty sea, this warm, dry, saline smell that always makes me feel so many things. It's bittersweet.

You know, when I was a kid I'd always spend the summer with my grandparents at the seaside. My parents couldn't take time off work so I'd spend those months away from home, only the three of us. I used to love that, I was always looking forward to it: we always stayed at a very beautiful campsite, in our trailer and it was so fun, to stay in our cozy little house during those three months and have more adventures every single day. I'd go to the pool, ride my bike, play at the park, paint at the kid's club, swim in the ocean, make sand castles. And every year I'd make new friends from all over the world. Sometimes I'd never see them ever again, which was sad, but I knew that I'd meet new ones and make the pain in my heart go away.

The thing that I liked the most about those summers, though, was how sweet my mom used to be to me. We wouldn't see each other all day every day, so there wasn't the risk of me pissing her off, doing the wrong thing, saying the wrong thing, forgetting to do something, making her forget to do something. We wouldn't see each other all day every day, so her daily evening calls were only filled with love and affection from her. Every day she'd call and she'd ask me what I had done and how the new kids I met were. She'd tell me she missed me so freaking much and that she couldn't wait for me to be back home in her arms. I'd cry almost every night, because every night I'd realize just how much I missed her and that I would've left and even walked all the way back home if she missed me too much. I hated how I could hear the strain in her voice from the whole day spent at work and the pain from being away from me. She was used to not spending a lot of time together, she had to go back to work very soon after I was born and always worked very long hours, but of course it was different in those summer months.

When I got older I realized that being away from one another was actually much better than we thought: after being apart for a while, the need to be together and the way she missed me would make the side of her that wasn't always happy with life go away, at least for a little bit. She didn't get the chance of getting angry with me or me triggering a mental breakdown and her telling me that she just needed to leave dad and I and get a new life or end it all. It's funny, I never realized how fucked up it is to say something like that to a 6 years old until very little ago.

Anyway, during those summers the only thing my mom did was love me, actually, not love me, she liked me, I wasn't flawed and always doing something wrong, I was her daughter and she liked me and she loved me. And then I understood, I need to stay away from her for a little while, so that she can love me for a little bit.

So yeah, it's bittersweet, the salty sea."

You couldn’t process what just happened, but what took over your mind as soon as you finished talking wasn’t the shock from being able to disclose such information to someone who wasn’t family or your therapist, but the fear of having ruined for good whatever small traces of a connection you had with Natasha thanks to your uncontrolled rambling. She said “everything”, but what if it was too deep? She said “everything”, but what if she wasn't ready to tell you something like that about herself and you made her feel forced to do so? She said “everything”, but what if you had built her wall back up with your own hands?

Sensing the panic you were almost perfectly hiding, she gently pulled you against her chest to hold you in her arms and kiss the top of your head before the “sorry” you had ready for her could leave your lips. Pulling back, she finally admired your beautiful face once again, feeling a bit more reassured at the slightly lessened, yet still present, traces of tension on your features. You looked small, young, younger than you were, with almost imperceptible traces of childhood you still seemed to unknowingly hold onto behind your eyes. You looked young because you were young and for the first time with her you didn't try to hide yourself behind a closely crafted composed facade that sometimes didn't fully fit you.

“And how is it now? If I can ask.”

"We don't really see each other anymore, except for the holidays sometimes, but we're not on bad terms at all. We always text and talk through the phone. It's just that her calls now feel like those old summer ones, always so sweet"

She didn’t respond to you, but she didn’t need to say anything, you understood how hard it could be for someone like her to express herself with her words. Her eyes and the warmth of her arm, still holding you in a loose hug, easily made you understand anything she would’ve wanted to express to you.

You tried your best to be as open as you could, but you knew you needed to take your mind off of certain things before your mood would’ve been ruined for the whole weekend and you still wanted to try to get to know at least something more about Natasha. You had to try, at least.

“Can I ask you why you like this sweater so much?”

You didn’t know where that question came out of, maybe the thought had been bugging you for way too long and your mind pulled a trick on you. Great, now she must’ve really thought you were crazy for good.

“I’m sorry, it must sound dumb”

You tried to brush it off with a small, pathetic laugh as you lowered your head to hide from her out of embarrassment, internally facepalming at your impulsiveness, but her hand on your arm, softly rubbing her thumb over it gave you the courage to look back up at her.

“No, not at all!”

The slight worry in her eyes, at first caused by the sight of your discomfort from your own question, soon turned into the usual worry she felt at the prospect of sharing certain aspects of her life with someone else. But the more she looked at you, the more the deep, gnawing feeling slowly got replaced by the mere melancholy of what the answer to your question consisted of. She knew it would’ve been hard but for once she wanted to do it, for once she wanted to try to open herself for someone she knew would’ve been willing to accept what came with her. And so she took the leap of faith.

“I know I have a poor reputation in terms of marriages, everyone apparently knows about it. I also know it was my fault for not making it work out every time, but if I have to be honest I never felt too…bad about myself for it. I mean, I know I’m not perfect and I have too many things to think about to try to be someone I’m not for the sake of a wife. I think the only oth-…time I did was with my first wife.

I got to know Maria when I was in college and as soon as I graduated we got married, got a house and I started working a shitty office job. We struggled for a bit, I wasn’t making a lot of money and she was working as a waitress, but I did anything I could to make our lives better and finally I got a pretty good promotion. That sweater was one of the first things I bought for myself and, I know it sounds stupid, but every time I looked at it, it reminded me that I had power over my life and we could finally have a decent life, I could give her a decent life. I was so happy, not only because I knew I could’ve done more for her, but I was also proud of myself, I mean, I liked my job.

I only realized just how much time I was spending away from home, away from her, when she told me she wanted to have a baby. We had more than enough money for it but I knew that my focus wasn’t at home back then. At first I tried to make any excuses I could, but eventually I just gave in. I think she noticed that I was doing it more for her than for me, but, if she did, she didn't mention it. We tried for a bit and at first it didn't work, but eventually she got pregnant. And she was so happy after all those months, she was over the moon. Of course I was happy we were expecting, but I could still feel my focus being somewhere else…and then she lost the baby and I was so stupid I barely even said I was sorry. I didn't know what to do, I didn't know how to help her…

We tried to go on for a bit and I knew I couldn't help her out emotionally, so I did what I know how to do best. I worked more and I bought her more stuff and I brought her on more trips but it was all for nothing and that sweater now reminded me that I couldn't be what she needed, that I wasn't perfect.

I cared, after she left me, then I didn't and now I know I just can't be perfect.”

You could still see some small hints of fake confidence she was so used to displaying, but the insecurity and sadness still drenched her words as she avoided your gaze at all costs. You could see her trying to get some last words out and her slightly shaky breathing almost got you worried for her.

“You know, I don't give a shit about what people think of me…but…you make me wanna be perfect”

Her brows were knitted as she tentatively whispered her words, almost as if she couldn’t understand such a concept. She didn't do what she was so used to be doing, what she had done with all of her wives. She didn't do her best just as a way to avoid you getting mad, she did it because she felt you deserved to always be with her best self, nothing less.

Everything was different with you, everything felt different…

Part 5

Tags: @fxckmiup @natashasilverfox @dmenby3100 @marvels--slut @dvrkhcld @elenimoris @mrsrushman @mrsromanoff @thalia-is-not-ok @alianovnasposts @clintsupremacy @taliiiaasteria @meowymari @lissaaaa145 @natashaswife4125 @olsenmyolsen @angrywhisperslove @aemilia19 @setsuna1415 @letsboandy @mrsromanovaa @wizardofstories @karsonromanoff

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff angst #black widow #black widow x reader #black widow x female reader #black widow smut #black widow fluff #black widow angst #marvel #mcu

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cipheramnesia · 2 months

Text

This is the process my brain goes through every time I see anything about Netflix Avatar The Last Airbender.

My first reaction is always: Why? The original, although not without flaws, doesn't leave a lot of room to improve. A good remake or adaptation usually involves an updated context or change in perspective that adds to the original work and gives it new meaning. It's a risky undertaking because it usually involves wanting to take on something established as iconic and make it your own. But Netflix is a corporation and seems very risk averse for the most part. Its only investment is in the name recognition of AtLA. It's hard to visualize Netflix deliberately taking a big risk on an expensive show.

My second reaction is: How? The original series is about 1400 minutes over 61 episodes, and it still had to rush the ending. We're looking at 8 episodes of roughly 45-60 minutes per episode for season 1, which would require Netflix to let it run more than 3 seasons, if the series has similar pacing. Historically however Netflix shows have glacial pacing, and rarely make three seasons. Not really sure how they plan to tell the story if the series is anything like the average Netflix series, meaning it either needs to undercut the story or let the series breathe for at least five seasons. But nothing Netflix has done makes me want to watch anything they make as an ongoing series? Why bother, they cancel everything I enjoy. So I wonder how. What's the hook to say "this will be able to provide something new and interesting compared to the original, and will be allowed to tell the complete story."

Which leads me to think, but you can't judge if something is good without seeing it. Except none of this is about whether it's good, I just find myself wondering what are the odds it's worth the effort? They're low, and it has nothing to do with whether or not it's even any good on its own merits.

Following this, I ask myself, what would a good version of this be. Imagine you are making a live action series with eight hour long episodes per season based on a children's cartoon with 20 thirty minute episodes per season. You are trying to encompass a story which was presented over three seasons as a cartoon, and you do not know if you will have more than those eight episodes. It's made for Netflix which, in terms of a company which will protect the hard earned fruits of your artistic labor, is the fox guarding the henhouse. What do you do?

If you are looking to make something good, that respects your audience investment and your own work, you make radical changes to the story. You change the pacing, the character arcs, the plot arcs. You make sure you deliver a complete story in those episodes with as much respect for the original work and as many new ideas as you can.

Except, at that point, what is even the point of a remake. The only way to work with it is either to trust Netflix allowing you to finish the story (which you'd need to be incredibly naive to do), or tell a story so different it may as well be wholly original. And that's where I always end up. Like, it'll probably be fine, but what's the point of it all? Another vanishing digital property to get canceled because of some undefinable failure to return on investment.

I think about it a lot because the two ends of the spectrum seem to be "dunk on every new piece of information" or "wait and see" but the only conclusion I can ever reach is "why even care?" That's been the lesson to take home from digital streaming in general when it comes to series, but Netflix in particular, and honestly for movie series too. If it can't be self contained, the companies who produce and release these kinds of series just cannot be trusted with it, and there are too many good original stories being put out to care anymore about big budget promises that one day they will definitely for sure deliver a finished story, this time for real.

I care enough to think about why I don't feel anything at all about Netflix Avatar. It'll be fine, whatever else. Just fine.

#netflix avatar

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novlr · 4 months

Note

How do you write characters who ignore their feelings

When you write characters who ignore their feelings, you delve into a complex psychological landscape that, if done well, can resonate deeply with readers. These characters are walking contradictions, their emotions simmering just beneath the surface. This tension between their inner experiences and external expressions makes them fascinating and relatable to readers.

Behaviour

Disregard their own emotional well-being

Focus on logic and facts

Appear stoic or unfazed in stressful scenarios

Engage in compulsive behaviours as a distraction

Will take on burdens without complaining

Avoid conversations about their feelings

Can be reliable in a crisis

Immerse themselves in work or hobbies

Seen as cold or insensitive by others

Exhibit control issues, and micromanaging tendencies

Interactions

Difficulty forming deep, emotional connections

Uncomfortable with physical displays of affection

Struggle to empathise with others’ feelings

Change the subject when discussions turn emotional

Appear indifferent or detached in social settings

Perceived as blunt or straightforward in their communication

Offer practical solutions to problems, rather than emotional support

Have a small, close-knit circle of friends, if any

Inadvertently hurt others by dismissing their emotions

Often seen as the ‘rock’ or ‘anchor’ by their peers

Body language

Cross arms or create physical barriers when emotional topics arise

Maintain a steady, controlled posture

Rarely exhibit nervous ticks or fidgeting

Minimal eye contact during emotional conversations

Often have a rigid or stiff walk or stance

Avoid touch or recoil slightly from unexpected contact

Neutral or hard to read facial expressions

Look away or distance themselves from emotional displays

Rarely cry or show signs of emotional distress in public

Likely to control voice pitch and volume meticulously, even when agitated

Attitude

A practical and no-nonsense demeanour

Often skeptical of emotional reasoning or decisions

May seem dismissive or cynical about sentimentality

Value strength, self-sufficiency, and independence

Pride themselves on not ‘giving in’ to emotions

Can be incredibly self-disciplined and focused

View emotional displays as weaknesses or inconveniences

Have a strong drive to maintain composure under pressure

Sometimes accused of lacking passion or enthusiasm

Can come across as disinterested or aloof

Positive story outcomes

Learn to acknowledge and accept their emotions in a healthy way

Build stronger, more genuine relationships through vulnerability

Find themselves more at peace after emotional breakthroughs

Gain respect from others for their growth and emotional maturity

Overcome past traumas that caused them to suppress their feelings

Develop a more balanced approach to problem-solving

Become a role model for others struggling with emotional expression

Facilitate a cathartic moment that resolves a central conflict

Experience personal breakthroughs leading to unexpected joy

Discover hidden strengths through the acceptance of weakness

Negative story outcomes

Relationships may deteriorate because of emotional neglect

They could face a breakdown from accumulated stress

Might cause unintended harm to themselves or others

Risk becoming isolated because of their lack of emotional openness

Can suffer from health issues related to suppressed emotions

Might miss out on life-changing opportunities because of fear of vulnerability

Could be overtaken by their emotions in a critical moment

May lose the trust or respect of peers who crave emotional honesty

Potentially fail to resolve a major conflict because of emotional barriers

Their growth as a character might stagnate, leading to a tragic outcome

Helpful Vocabulary

Aloof

Detached

Dismissive

Stoic

Impassive

Restrained

Unflappable

Resolute

Suppressed

Guarded

Inexpressive

Dispassionate

Self-contained

Unemotional

Nonreactive

Disconnected

Inhibited

Controlled

Reticent

Reserved

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inthedoghousern · 3 months

Text

okay

pt II of just this once

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!driver!reader

summary: aftermath of you and oscar's night together in monaco, you made a deal, only once. would you keep it?

contains: allusions to sex, angst.

1.2k words

a/n: quick one. my original ending to 'just this once'. it can be read with pt1 or alone, whatever y'all want.

The sun was rising, and the room felt even warmer with its light. You and Oscar slept in a tangled mess of body parts. Both of your bodies were against each other, with not a single inch separating the two of you.

You wake up first. Your head lightly pounding from the night before. Your mouth goes dry when you look at the other person in your bed. Of course, you remember what happened last night, but now what?

It is only now that you realize the gravity of what had happened last night. You had just slept with Oscar Piastri, your lifelong rival, in a hotel room far from home.

And now, the two of you were tangled together in the bed. Your body was stuck right up against his. You start to slowly pull away from him, and he starts to stir, waking up as well. A little sleep still lingered in your eyes, you didn't know what to expect when he woke up. Would he be his normal self? Would he be shocked? The two of you had just done something incredibly intimate, so you weren't really sure what his next move would be.

Oscar was stirring as well, his eyes fluttered open and traveled to yours. He was not going to be the first to speak though.

“Um- good morning,” you say. His arms are still around you. "Morning..." Oscar says, his voice was still raspy from last night. He didn't take his arms away though, he didn't want to just yet. He was in a bit of a daze trying to comprehend all that went down last night. He was wondering how much of it you remembered, or if you regretted any of it.

You pull away from each other, and you sit up and forward rubbing your face. Oscar sits up too, leaning back against the headboard, looking at you. He was looking from your back to the rest of your body, there was no rush in the movement, it was like he was trying to analyze everything...like he was trying to grasp the full extent of what happened last night.

You clear your throat and pull the covers back, and swing your legs to the side of the bed. You should get up and get yourself situated. Oscar should get up too. Oscar should go back to his hotel room. You're about to get up, but you become hyperaware that you have no clothes on and that his eyes are on you. After last night you shouldn’t care, but it’s different now. You were both hungover, you had just slept together, and you were also naked in front of one another in this room.

You get up and start pulling out clothes from your suitcase, getting dressed quickly. You should shower but you want him to leave first. Oscar shuffles out of bed as you get changed, collecting his clothes from last night and putting them on.

Now that the two of you are clothed and no longer tangled together on the bed it was like you were trying to pretend last night never really happened. Oscar was about to start walking to the door when he paused for a second, "When should we talk about it?"

“We made a deal. One time. We don’t need to talk about it because it’s never happening again,” you tell him. A pit in your stomach growing.

He sighed when you answered, his body language telling the truth of how he really felt about the situation. "Yeah, never happening again." He tried to tell himself just as much as you. But his gaze told another story, he didn't want this to end yet.

His eyes were wandering for a second as a moment of vulnerability came on his face. "Just let me ask you one thing."

You stay silent for a moment. You are scared of what he’s going to say. “Alright,” you answer.

"Did you mean it when you said it was just a one time thing? Did you really mean it?" Oscar asked you. His eyes met yours for a moment before he sighed. "Because if you did, then I'm gonna go. But I just need to know for myself."

“Did I mean it? Yes. Is that what I really want? I don’t know," you tell him. It’s the truth. Yes, what happened between you and Oscar can never happen again, but it was also something you can’t say you regret.

He sighs when you respond, you couldn't give him a direct answer and it didn't surprise him at all. He just nodded as he processed your answer. He wanted to say something, to ask one more thing, to be more vulnerable with you at this moment.

"Did you at all, even slightly, enjoy last night?"

“Of course,” you say softly.

You could tell that this caught him slightly off guard, he wasn't expecting you to be completely honest with him.

"Yeah, right, it wouldn’t have even happened if- yeah, sorry. Then that's all I needed to know I guess. I'll leave." He rambled, putting up a facade of indifference.

“Okay.”

You can’t say goodbye. Just okay.

He looks at you with a bit of longing, he wants to say more to you. But there was a certain amount of shame when it came to admitting how he felt about the whole situation. So finally he just sighed, "Okay."

He returns the same answer before slowly opening the door and walking out.

part III- 11:45

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #op81

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angelslittlewritingcorner · 18 days

Text

DESIRE

(Adam x Lute x Reader)

After you gave so much love to the first part of the series, I thought I'd post the second this week. A little more fluff this time, but the next part will be very spicy. Have fun with it.

Tags: @mournings-stars

Synopsis: Y/N just wanted to spend some wholesome time with her lovers but they had other plans.

Part 2 (of 3)

Part 1

Warnings: Language

Y/N straightened her shoulders and opened the bathroom door. "Yes, I'm ready," she said and let her eyes wander over Lute. She was actually wearing the dress she had just bought. It clung perfectly to her curves and Y/N had to avert her eyes. Even if Lute was an angel, she was made for sin. Damn, she was already thinking like Adam. He came up behind Lute and scrutinised Y/N. "Woah damn girls you look really hot" Lute just rolled her eyes and punched Adam lightly in the arm. Y/N also looked at her other lover and couldn't help but grin slightly. "Adam? Is that gel in your hair and you're wearing a jacket?" He just grinned and his nose coloured slightly pink. "So can we then?" Lute asked, a little more annoyed and held out his hand again. Y/N nodded and grabbed her handbag before the three of them left the flat.

Holding Lute's hand felt incredibly good. She looked quite petite, but her grip was firm and firm. Adam walked next to them and talked about a dog he'd seen the other day that had totally dragged its owner through the mud because it had seen another dog. "And then he dragged him all over the park. I really thought the ice cream was going to fall out of my hand I laughed so hard." His two girls just grinned at the story and threw in a few comments here and there. Once Adam started talking, he never stopped. Y/N thinks it's because he was alone for so long after Lilith and Eve left him. You could really feel sorry for him.

When she first met him, she thought he was just a jerk who was self-absorbed and reckless. Just like the high school jocks in the TV series on Earth. But after getting to know him better and seeing behind his façade, she realised that he longed for love and acceptance. Things he would never admit to, of course, but were very obvious when you knew him.

The three of them arrived at the elegant restaurant and quickly took the seats they had ordered. As they were all quite hungry, they immediately began to check out the menu. "Really a fancy place," said Adam and grinned at Lute out of the corner of his eye, "Yeah, you'd never have thought of such an idea, you Dickmaster." He just rolled his eyes and grinned behind the menu. God those two were cute when they weren't out for blood and fighting. Y/N thought about the little surprise she had in her handbag. When would be the best time to give it to them? Before dinner? After? She decided to give them the present while they were waiting for the food.

After a few minutes, a waiter came and took their orders. He also placed a glass of crystal clear fresh water in front of each of them. No matter how many times Y/N saw the food and gifts of heaven, it was still a mystery to her how everything could be so clear and clean. Every colour seemed brighter and more intense. Lute took a sip from her glass and then put it down. "Y/N darling … why are you looking like that? What's bothering you?" "N-Nothing's bothering me I… well" she took a deep breath "It's just that I have something for you both because today is such a special day." None of the three would ever admit to dating in public. What would people think if they knew it was a three-way relationship? Unfortunately, they didn't realise that they were so obvious that everyone already knew. Y/N reached into her handbag and handed her two lovers a small parcel each.

Curious, the two opened it and stared at the contents for a moment. The parcels contained a bracelet for each of them with the initial letters of the three of them. "I made them myself. The band is made of leather and the letters are made of silver." "That's really pretty," said Lute, her eyes taking on a warm glow. She took the bracelet and held it out to Y/N. "Will you make it for me baby?" She nodded and carefully put the bracelet on her. Adam was silent the whole time and just held out his arm. Y/N put the bracelet on him too. She had been wearing her own since she had left. Why didn't Adam say anything? Didn't he like it? Too cheesy? Too feminine? But she didn't dare ask, after all, she had her pride. Luckily, the food arrived and took the decision off her hands.

After the meal, they paid and went back to their flat together. "Kitten" Y/N turned to Adam. "We have a little surprise for you too" She raised an eyebrow curiously and Adam gripped the side of her waist and led her in the direction of the bedroom....

#hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin vaggie #charlie morningstar #hazbin hotel charlie #adam #adam x lute x reader #adam x lute #hazbin hotel adam #adam x reader #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin lute #lute x reader #lute #guitarspear

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petrichorca · 28 days

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Hello, I am slowly figuring out how to use tumblr effectively. I thought I'd give an update on fics I've written in 2024, but keep forgetting to talk about here in a meaningful way.

As We Go Hand in Hand (explicit, gentlebeard, 7100 words) follows Ed as he processes the past few months while living on the island with Stede, massively in love but struggling with himself. I wrote it while feeling a lot of delayed grief around the (confirmed) s2 cancellation, and while it's sad at points it's also quite romantic I think. I really love this story.

Behind Closed Eyes All I See is You (explicit, gentlebeard, 5300 words) is a smutty PWP my dear friend @chaoticturtleturtle invited me to write with her. Stede lets Ed take the lead in a scene with some sensory deprivation, pwp, and aftercare.

like sugar to my heart (mature, gentlebeard, 4200 words) is a silly fic I wrote for my Animorphs OFMD AU co-writer as a birthday gift. Our blue four-legged four-eyed mouthless alien Stedeth gets foiled by a vending machine (based on the tumblr art of the giraffe centaur), and Ed consoles him.

like a bird (teen, gentlebeard, 3700 words) with @ghostalservice gives some backstory about Stedeth's life prior to the events of our 177k fic and features some very cute art of Mary and Stede's children (as Andalites, of course) by @theogem

Stede’s Cursed Red Suit as a Metaphor for Grief and Moving On (teen, stede + izzy, 1717 words) explores the squishy time of season 2, episode 5, and the dynamic between Stede and Izzy in season 2 overall. I am also obsessed with how Stede acts in the cursed suit. I find their s2 relationship really interesting so this is me looking a bit at that via a missing scene starting with Stede yelling OH FUCK OFF.

Calypso’s Dawn (explicit, gentlebeard, 1800 words) centers around how Ed made his boyfriend blush the morning after Calypso's birthday and how Ed feels about it. I love this fic. I've been trying to challenge myself to write more self-contained, shorter stories and this one turned out really well imo.

Life as a Series of Forward Rolls (teen, gentlebeard, 9900 words) features Stede running into his teenhood crush, the gold medalist in men's gymnastics from the 1996 Olympics. This fic also centers around a Barbie doll in Ed Teach's likeness, which @swashbuckling-sweethearts made an INCREDIBLE art of (embedded at the end of the story), inspired by my own 1996 Olympics Barbie. Silly and light modern AU!

Did you mean to do that? (teen, gentlebeard, 700 words) explores Stede's grief around Ed dying, even when he knows Ed is alive. I had no idea I would be so interested in writing missing scenes, but long conversations with friends have really ignited me in exploring these. (The length - I was trying to channel @brigdh, whose ability to write devastatingly brilliant drabbles inspires me, and I'm pleased with this one!)

Perfectly Ordinary Tuesday (mature, gentlebeard, 4900 words) with @ferventrabbit follows Stede and Ed deciding to get married on a perfectly ordinary Tuesday, and drag their inn guest Dave along for the ride. We split up writing the vows, and I balled my eyes out writing mine and then reading em's. This story is fluffy and fun, and it was a great way to start 2024. :)

What's next: I'm working on or noodling a lot of projects, solo and with different collaborators. Imminently, I've got a fic with @veeagainsttheday coming for AUpril on April 1st. Hoping to get something else out in April for @ofmdjanuaury's AUpril 2024 event, which I highly encourage folks to check out - it's for all sorts of creators!

@ghostalservice and I continue to think about our blue alien Stede and his human boyfriend Ed. Wanna Fly Away was such an important project to me while we were writing, and it's become even more special as folks find it. WFA now has art embedded in most of the 15 chapters, so if you haven't seen those check it out. More to come in that space.

Where was I going with this? Well, I suppose I want to say I'm still here. OFMD changed my life, and the OFMD fandom community is deeply important to me. I still hold out hope for a third season, or a follow-up that brings us more closure, but no matter what I'm still thinking about our pirates and will for a long time. If you read this far, thanks for being part of my community. <3

#ofmd #our flag means death #gentlebeard #ofmd fanfic #my fanfic #stede bonnet #edward teach

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wardenparker · 2 months

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Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 4

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

After the debacle of his failed engagement and relocating to Washington to take charge of his task force, newly minted Special Agent Marcus Pike is ready to get back out into the dating pool once more. A slew of bad dates has him feeling a little down, and he takes an old friend up on an invitation to get away and get his head on straight. Imagine his surprise when he finds not only fresh air, but his soulmate as well - hiding in plain sight but in the unlikeliest of places.

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 10.5k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle, reader is mentioned as turning 30 during the course of the story* Family dynamics that contain debating as a method of communication, heavy familial expectations, changing relationships, talk of pregnancy and childbirth. Summary: A family dinner at the White House, a meddling best friend, and the mysterious case of the missing Congressman. Notes: Shout out to Keri for making me unexpectedly bawl about three-quarters of the way into this chapter. Thanks for that, babe. As usual, sorry for an errors I might have missed and thanks for reading!

Ch1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3

It isn’t unusual for a family to sit down to dinner together during the week. If you’re a busy family, living scattered about in different places, even a once-a-week dinner is worth scheduling. But when you’re the First Family, it gets a little complicated. The food is always amazing. That isn’t up for debate. And it is nice to actually see your mother when she isn’t surrounded by a swarm of staff or on a television screen. Alex and June are great too, when they aren’t being absolute pains in the asses. The only thing you’re hoping is that no one asks you about Sam at dinner tonight.

Family dinners always occur in the residence, around the long wooden table that is a substitute for the one you had grown up sitting around. No press, no phones at the table and the only interruptions that are allowed during this time is a matter of national crisis. Everything else can wait. It's why your mother is a successful politician while balancing her family, she gives everything its proper time. "So a little birdy told me that your inn is booked solid for the next few weeks." She looks over at you with a proud smile, aware that you work incredibly hard to make your vision, your dream, a success.

“Through April.” You nod, finishing a bite of food. The White House chef takes his chicken Marsala very seriously and it’s so good that you can’t get enough of it. “It never fails. People are always excited to see the cherry blossoms.”

“Will you still be able to attend the State dinner?” Although it was more a mandatory invitation, she would understand if you couldn’t break away. After all, she has a very demanding job as well.

“Of course.” Not aware that you had had any choice in the matter, you get smirked half-glances from your siblings that tell you they would try to get out too, if they could. “Although…I do have a question about that.”

She looks up from cutting her chicken, your father looking up from his glass of wine curiously. “What is that?”

“I know that it’s only a week away, so I am not asking for anything besides clarification.” Something about your parents’ reaction makes you feel like you need to say that out loud. Otherwise you might be up for one of your family’s famously endless debates. “Has the seating arrangement already been done so that all of us,” you motion to yourself and your two younger siblings. “Have a plus one?”

“Of course.” Your father has been the one handling the details of the State dinner and has meticulously planned the family seating arrangement. “Why?”

“Just double-checking. It’s the first State dinner, after all. I just want to make sure it goes smoothly.” It doesn’t matter that you were desperately hoping he would say no, or instantly offer to rearrange the seating chart if needed, or literally anything else that would get you out of having to have an uncomfortable conversation with Sam after barely talking to him at all the last few days. Maybe you could ask Juan to…Nope. There’s a rehearsal dinner at the inn that night. Shit.

“Good.” He smiles and gives you a knowing look. “I did not place Sam and you near too many political adversaries.” He snorts. “He won’t spend the entire night in a debate.”

“That’s thoughtful of you, Dad. Thanks.” There is a solid chance Sam would prefer that over the stony silence between the two of you, but you can’t say that. Not with your mother at the table. It will turn into a full-blown debate over what has gone wrong in your relationship and how to fix it, and you don’t need your meddling siblings to have that kind of ammunition on you. “So,” you turn to them instead. “Alex? Junie? You guys have dates?”

Alex rolls his eyes. “I’m bringing Dave, since he wants to go into law school.” He huffs. “He wants to intern with one of the senators.” Junie just shrugs. “Not yet.” She murmurs, bored by the idea of the dinner at all.

“Dave gets to come to a State dinner?” Your brother and his boyfriend generally keep things under wraps, and it works well since they’ve been best friends since they were kids. Like the gay male version of you and Sydney except they became a couple. “That’s sweet, Al. Maybe he’ll actually get you to behave yourself.”

“Never.” He flashes you a grin, making your mother huff in exasperation and amusement.

“No potential guest on the horizon for you, Junebug?” Your father asks, looking to his youngest child on the other end of the table.

“I’m either going to have someone want to go so they can rub elbows with politicians and brag they went to the State dinner, or be completely bored out of their minds.” She shrugs. “So I don’t know if I want to ask anyone.”

“Is that even an option?” You’re really trying not to make it sounds like you’re hoping for a yes, but you are. To be told you can go solo would solve every single one of your problems at the moment.

“We cannot have empty chairs.” Your father shakes his head. “Junie, if you don’t pick someone, we will have to find a filler.”

“Do you want me to ask Dave to bring his brother?” Alex offers, always only helpful to the baby of the family. “Noah can dance, doesn’t care about politics, and you can bitch about college the whole time of you want.”

“Please?” Her eyes turn hopeful and she knows that will be better than some filler guest.

“You got it.” Alex grins and flashes that thousand watt smile at your parents. “See? Problem solved.”

“Thank you.” Your father looks relieved and your mother gives him a smile before cutting into her chicken again. “Happy to have that settled.” She hums.

Settled. Ugh. If you weren’t about to turn thirty, you would be pouting at the table. Instead you let discussion float by, as your father double checks that all three of you have your White House approved outfits for the night and you’ve managed to memorize all the facts and statistics on the Spanish royal family that were handed out by your mother’s staff.

The dinner moves on to dinner dessert and the dinner plates are changed for wonderful pots of chocolate lava cake, a back up dessert for the State dinner for anyone with a gluten intolerance or nut allergy.

“This is amaaazing.” June groans, ever the chocolate fanatic.

“It is delicious.” Your mother agrees. “Rich.” She looks over at your father. “You said this was gluten free?”

“Hard to believe isn’t it?” He laughed like he’s got some trick up his sleeve but he’s really just pleased. “Apparently this is one of the easier cakes to do with alternative flours.”

“Perfect.” She might be President of the United States, but she and your father were a team. “You did wonderful finding an alternative, honey.”

“You like the orange sauce with it?” Everyone’s anxieties are high for this first occasion and your father wants everything to be perfect.

“Perhaps offer a raspberry or strawberry?” She suggests, looking around the table for everyone’s opinions. “What do you all think? In addition?”

“It’s a little sweet,” you admit, hating to ever disappoint your father. But there is a reason you all have so many round table discussions in your family. “Maybe blood orange would offset the sweetness a little? And be a little more luxurious?”

“Ohhhh blood orange would be amazing.” Alex chimes in, nodding in agreement. “Balance the sweetness of the chocolate.”

“Oh my god yes,” June groans, already having mostly inhaled her lava cake and furtively peaking to see if either you or Alex is going to be willing to give yours up.

Alex snorts when he sees that beseeching look on his younger sister’s face and slides his lava cake towards her.

“This is what you should have for your birthday.” Junie tells you emphatically, digging in to what’s left of your brother’s dessert. “No question.”

“Why? So you can eat all of it?” Your brother snorts. “But-“ he looks back over at you. “What are you having at your party?”

"I honestly haven't thought about it." There's still a month left until your birthday so it hadn't even crossed your mind yet. "Maybe I'll just go to a Nationals game if I can get away from work. Who knows?"

“Oh honey, you shouldn’t do that.” Your mother huffs slightly and shakes her head. “Go to a Nationals game, sure. But you need to have a party.”

"Why?" It sort of feels like whining this time, but you have to wonder what her logic is. "Because I'm one of the First Kids? Because I'm turning 30?"

“Because you deserve a party where others cater to your wants and is about you? Celebrating my oldest baby’s birthday.” She implores, expression soft and loving.

If there is one thing your mother is annoyingly good at it, it's showering love on her children despite being busy. No birthday ever went by without acknowledgement. No success uncelebrated. No set back unconquered. "So does that mean you and Dad are going to throw it and all I have to do is show up?" It's highly unlikely considering how busy they are, but you have to try, right?

“Absolutely.” Her grin is positively smug, like you have fallen into her trap, which - you have. “Of course, we are not going to have it at the White House.” She rolls her eyes slightly. “But you just pretend it will be a surprise. I’ll let Sam know where to bring you.”

"I can't know where to go myself?" Since there's a chance Sam won't even be in the picture in a few weeks, you would rather just have her tell you. "And please don't make it some big, formal thing? If I get told to wear an evening gown to my birthday, I'm not showing up."

“Nothing formal.” She promises. “No ballgown, but a nice dress.” She compromises, tilting her head. “For pictures? Not official ones, of course.”

Regular negotiations with the President should make you eligible for some kind of ambassador position even as her daughter, and you tilt your head at your mother before making a full agreement. "Cocktail attire maximum, the music cannot be described as orchestral anything, and the fancier the venue is, the lower class the food has to be. Those are my conditions."

“Finger foods inside of an upscale tavern?” She poses, smirking slightly at the way you negotiate with her. Out of all the children, you are the closest to her personality, even if you don’t see it. “With specially crafted cocktails to celebrate your birthday? And a playlist composed of your favorites songs from each year?”

"I'll build a core list for the music. Because I don't trust Alex not to sneak Cotton Eye Joe or something into the mix." Like any good wheeling-and-dealing adult child, you have to get just one more compromise in there before sealing the deal. "And I will provide you with a list of friends I'd like invited outside of the normal group. Obviously I know you'll give the information to Sydney, Anna Leigh, and Issy."

“Deal.” She nods and looks very pleased with the situation. “Honey, I will plan this.” She promises, reaching out and patting the back of your father’s hand. “I want to plan it.”

"Along with running the free world, she's also a party planner." Your brother snorts, always ready to tease. "You know you can just hire Juan to do it, Mom."

“No.” She snorts and blows a raspberry at your brother. “It’s my baby’s birthday. I want to plan the perfect party to ring in thirty.”

"And somehow Birdie still doesn't get that she's the favorite." June laughs, throwing you a smirk before she rolls her eyes playfully at Alex.

“Now you know that is not true.” Your mother protests, rolling her eyes. “I love all of you equally.”

"Yes, Mother." Alex and June chime in unison, making all of you break into laughter at the same time around the table.

“Managing you kids is almost harder than running the country.” She grumbles, even though she’s grinning.

"We just wanted you to have a lot of practice before you got to the White House." You assure her, still laughing with your siblings. "Because being Governor of Pennsylvania was definitely not enough. Your children are the real test."

“Yes they are.” She agrees, laughing with all of you and your father. The truth was, she has incredible children that she’s proud of beyond measure. Often she tells the world that her best accomplishment has been raising the three of you and it’s not line to appeal to her core voters, she truly believes that.

"So, I have a logistical question." Satisfied temporarily with the amount of chocolate consumed in one dinner, June sits back in her chair with her glass of iced tea and proves once more than kids take more corralling than countries. "If the State dinner is next Saturday, does that count as family dinner?

Your father rolls his eyes and sighs while your mom narrows her eyes in thought and looks towards her husband for his thoughts. “What do you think, honey?”

"The purpose of Friday night dinners is to have a chance to sit down together as a family and catch up. Enjoy each other's company. Celebrate the week's small wins." It's what they had agreed on years ago when this tradition had been born. "So by that logic, I would say no. Since we won't be sitting around enjoying each other's company while the king and queen of Spain are visiting." He narrows his eyes though, in a way that definitely speaks to how long your parents have been together. They have identical expressions right now. "Why, Junebug? Did you make other plans?"

“I—” she falters for a moment and then shrugs. “There’s a party I wanted to go to, but I don’t have to go if my presence is required.”

Your parents exchange a glance, that decades-long nonverbal communication at work for not the first time today. "Why don't we have dinner a little earlier?" You father offers. Compromise is always the name of the game in the First Family. "If we have dinner at six instead of seven that night, will that give you enough time, kiddo?"

A partial victory counts, so she nods. "That would work. It would give me plenty of time to be annoyed at my security detail."

"Sounds like a plan." Your mother smirks, relieved to see that none of her children have tried to give their agents the slip yet. She had expected it from June, if she's honest. She's definitely the most independent and the most rebellious.

"Wish we didn't have to have them." She pout slightly, even though she had known this was part of the deal. She hadn't expected it to chafe so much though, if she was honest. She have been very innocent in believing they would just a vague shadow.

"I'd rather have you annoyed by their presence and be safe, than let you go without them and have something happen to any of you." It's non-negotiable, you all know that, and your mother is frankly very glad that it comes with the office. Trying to make sure all three of you are safe without the Secret Service? No way.

"I know." She doesn't have to be happy about it though. "I just— wish the world didn't suck so badly sometimes." She murmurs quietly.

"Here here." Alex nods, knowing that all the different ways the world sucks have affected him in ways the rest of the family hasn't experienced on their own. Everyone may tout their belief in soulmates loudly, but he can't even go out and hold his soulmate's hand without risk. If anything, he's grateful for the Secret Service agents that have been assigned to make sure he stays safe.

"I know that you are disappointed that I haven't been able to push through the soulmate resolution yet." Your mother is addressing Alex, but she shoots him a reassuring look. "But I know that it is close." She looks towards you. "Sam has been a strong voice in the fight to approving the resolution." She praises. "You should be very proud of him."

Mom, you’ve only been in office a month. No one at this table expects you to work miracles.” You steadily ignore the remark about Sam, feeling like your blood pressure is rising a little every time he gets mentioned tonight. “The Resolution is a really good piece of legislation and it’s only a matter of time before it gets passed.” Looking to your brother, though, you offer him the proudest smile you can manage. “And then this pain in the ass can have the White House’s first ever gay wedding. One for the history books.”

Alex snorts and shakes his head. “Hell no.” He huffs. “I don’t want a stuffy White House wedding where I have to invite every dignitary I know. I’ll leave that to you.” He hums with a smirk.

“I’m not getting married anytime soon so what does it matter?” An awful lot of people have been very invested in your future lately and it’s grinding on you to the point where you shoot back a reply without even thinking of it.

Your father’s brow shoots up, surprised at the tone you had used and he glances at your mother, a silent look passing between them.

The silence at the table is ringing, and you put down your wine glass as delicately as you can manage. “What?” You ask, looking around the table but not willing to apologize for being cranky. “I’m not engaged, am I? It could be years before I settle down.”

"Nothing." Your mother shakes her head and smiles at you. "Things will happen in their own time." She councils softly. "You don't have to adhere to anyone's timeline but your own."

“Right.” The best you can do is sit back and have the decency to look a little sheepish, but you can feel the question marks in the eyes of your family members all watching you. It is massively uncomfortable at best.

"Okay." Alex senses something is wrong with you, that you want the subject to change so he claps his hands. "So, I have a question." He recaptures his parents attention. "Do we have to dance at the State dinner?" He asks seriously. "Because you know Dave has two left feet and I can't be embarrassed like that."

“You can dance with your sisters,” your father offers, sensing the same thing as his son. “Or with your mother, or the queen? Or any of the young men there, if you want to end up above the fold of the Washington Post.” It’s purely teasing, of course, since anyone who knows Alex knows he is only in the closet publicly.

He rolls his eyes and scoffs. "Nahhhhhh." He waves away the idea. "I don't want to have to hire a PR manager this early in my life." He jokes. "It would drain my savings."

"I guess we'll all behave ourselves." June observes with a wry smile.

"That would be extremely appreciated." Your mother hums, smiling at all of you. "I know you all have busy schedules, but I am so glad we can still get together."

It's Sunday before the dress arrives at the inn for the State dinner, and you and Sydney were enjoying a rare afternoon off together when Malachi lead the worried-looking White House staffer around to the back porch of the inn to let them hand it over to you in person. Sending them off again with your thanks, you push out a sigh. "I haven't heard from Sam in almost a week," you admit when your best friend fixes you with an inquisitive expression.

"Have you reached out to him?" Sydney asks, frowning as she holds the passion fruit tea she has been obsessed with over the last few days. "He might be embarrassed and unsure of how he will be received?"

"I sent him a text yesterday asking if we were still on for our plans tonight, but...nothing so far." Making plans ahead of time had been a definite strength for the two of you before now. But since Valentine's Day? Communication has been non-existent.

"Have you tried his office?" It's not like Sam to just blow you off, so she wonders if he's been caught up in meetings.

"I—" You blow out another breath. One that feels like defeat. "I'm afraid of calling and having Vanessa pick up," you admit. It feels stupid but you can't help it. "The idea that she could be feeling chatty and say something about Marcus just...I know that's stupid."

"Have you tried to text Marcus?" That's the next question is the most obvious one to take the conversation. If you aren't in contact with Marcus or he hasn't responded to you, that could be why you are feeling like a duck out of water.

"No." That idea makes you shake your head sternly and reach for your drink. The covered porch and little space heater is nice for sitting in the sunniest hours of the day, but you still made yourself a cup of hot coffee to sip while you sat with Sydney. "No...I mean...he probably hates me by now."

"I don't think he would hate you." She's already making an note to have Juan reach out to Pike himself. Maybe take him out for a beer and feel him out on the situation. "You cancelled a causal invite to dinner, you didn't cancel taking him to the State dinner."

"I can't even think about the dinner." Your fingers drum on the box beside you, knowing the dress inside is beautiful but not wanting to face the reality of how uncomfortable the night will be. "If I don't have a date I have to tell my father as soon as possible and I'll get stuck with a million questions and a seat filler."

"Then you need to call Sam." She huffs. "Even if he's fuming at you, I doubt he would miss the State dinner."

"I know, I know, I know you're right." But you don't really want to call him. If it's been almost a week and he's effectively ghosted you? That seems like a pretty clear signal to you.

"Babe....you need closure." The bags under your eyes aren't doing you any good, despite the sleepy time tea that she had been sending to you. "If you are ending things with him, you need to be an adult about it."

"Ugh." You groan, letting your head tip back so the sound drags out dramatically. "Stop making sense and giving good advice, it's interfering with my denial and the reconstruction of my emotional walls."

She laughs, although it's not really funny. She knows where you and it's a shitty place to be. Sighing softly, she picks up your phone and holds it out to you.

"I hate you." Even muttered good naturedly, you still snag your phone from her hand and clutch your coffee mug like a security blanket. Sam's office number is programed into your phone and you squeak with combined fear and frustration as the call connects and begins to ring.

"Congressman Chase's office." Vanessa's voice comes over the line cheerfully and professionally. "How may I be of assistance today?"

Don't be a coward, you remind yourself sternly, as soon as you hear her voice. "Hi Vanessa." Saying your name clearly eliminates any assumption that his staff might recognize your voice, even though you know a few people absolutely do. Some of his staffers like to chat to you while you wait for Sam to come to the phone when you call his office. "Is Sam available?"

Her use of your last name is merely one of respect, choosing to keep things professional with the Congressman's girlfriend. Slightly confused because you are calling for him at the office. "Did he not tell you?" She asks, her voice lower than the usual chipper tone.

"Apparently not." There is no way you're going to fess up that Sam hasn't spoken to you in days, or returned even so much as a text message. Now you're concerned something might be going on.

"The Congressman has been sick all week." She only knows how bad it is because he had spend the first few days trying to work through it. "He has pneumonia." She huffs quietly. "He's been barely reachable but I had though the would have at least let you know."

He's sick. You barely manage to swallow a sigh of relief at that news, and only because you know how inappropriate that would sound to his aide. "I hadn't heard the official diagnosis." It's as smooth a lie as you can muster at the moment, and you cling to your warm mug all the harder. He's sick. That's why he hasn't called. "Thank you, Vanessa."

"Of course." She's confused, but she also knows that the medication the doctor had prescribed him was to help him rest since he had been trying to push himself. "Anytime."

The groan of relief comes only after you disconnect the call, and you deflate into yourself in your chair. "He's sick," you tell Sydney with a groan. The heel of one hand digs into your closed eye like you're trying to banish a headache but it's really just that you feel the pressure releasing from your mind. "He has pneumonia. He's been out since the beginning of the week."

"Okaaaaay." Surprising, but honestly, it's not? Considering it's Sam and he's pretty direct about things. It's one of those traits that Sydney admires about him. "That's a very valid reason for not texting or calling." She admits. "That's a good thing, right?"

"I'm not thrilled that he's sick, but I'm very relieved that he didn't just ghost me. He sleeps like a rock around the clock when he's sick, so he's probably just passed out at home." The one other time you had seen him with a cold was several months ago, and it seemed like he had slept for three days straight before springing back up on his feet like nothing had happened.

"He didn't just ghost you." She grins at you, even though you are still conflicted about Sam, the fact that you are relieved by this means there's something there. "Do you want me to whip him up some chicken noodle soup to drop at his doorstep?"

"Do you want to go upstairs?" When the two of you actually get the chance to cook together it's always fun, and this sounds like the perfect opportunity. You didn't have a dinner plan anyway. Chicken noodle soup for two is easy enough. "I did my grocery shopping this morning so I know I have everything. And..." you pat the dress box beside you. "I should hang this up. I don't think velvet wrinkles but I still don't want to take a chance."

"Absolutely." She sends you a smile, happy that you look relieved and like a weight has been lifted off your chest. "We will have Congressman Chase cured with our famous chicken noodle soup in no time."

Juan had taken the afternoon to go for a ride around the Virginia backroads so it's just you girls right now and that sounds pretty perfect. You gather up your things and nab Agent Bailey, heading upstairs to get to work and try to ease your mind a little. "I do still have a problem," you point out, when the elevator hits the top floor.

"What's that?" Sydney frowns, looking at the screen that shows the floor you are on. She really hates elevators, but this helps her mitigate that fear that the damn thing would plunge into the basement like all those action movies she had watched as a kid.

The doors slide open and you let her out first, stepping up behind her to unlock the door and let the three of you inside. "Now I definitely need to find a new date for the State dinner."

"Oh shit." Sam can't attend the State dinner with pneumonia, it would be too great of a risk. "Well, I can have Juan escort you." She had plans to have dinner with her parents and reveal the name they had chosen, but this was important and she could reschedule.

"Honey, no." She's been excited about the dinner with her parents for a week already and it wouldn't be fair to take Juan away from that. "You guys have family plans and I'm not going to ruin that. I'll just...think of someone else."

"Malachi?" She offers. "He would look good in a tuxedo."

For a split second you get excited about the idea, but you sink again as you readjust the dress box on your hip. "I need him here that night." You tell her, groaning about it. "We have that six-person reservation that needs a translator. Malachi is the only one on staff who speaks Hindi fluently."

"Fuck." The fact is there aren't a lot of men that can just be called up last minute to look good in a suit and be cleared to be in a roomful of the world's top dignitaries. Unless... "I have an idea and you're going to hate it." She promises as you open the door to your apartment. "Give me your phone."

"I trust you with my life but I do not like that tone in your voice." Still, you hand over your phone with confusion on your face and start to unpack the burgundy velvet evening gown that was altered to fit you perfectly. "Please don't call any of my exes."

"I am not calling any of your exes." She promises you, opening the phone with a code and opening your phone book. It's easy to find the number that she is looking for, because you are a stickler for putting numbers in properly and hits call, changing the phone to speaker so you can hear it ring.

The call rings three times before it connects, and even if Sydney hadn't been angling the phone away from you so that you couldn't see the name, you're pulling the dress out of the box when you hear the unmistakable "Hello?" on the other end.

Suddenly you're standing straight up and glaring at your best friend – your former best friend – for this ultimate betrayal. "Marcus." Your voice cracks when you say his name and you just want the floor to open and swallow you up. "Hi. How— how are you?"

"Oh, hi." It's obvious that he's confused as to why you are calling him on a Sunday, but he doesn't hang up the phone. "I'm good, how are you?" He asks politely, actually sounding like he is interested in the answer.

"I..." You sink down on your bed, letting Sydney continue to hold your phone, and hug the dress to your chest. "I'm calling for a couple of reasons," you decide. Now that you've been confronted with this phone call, it all sort of comes tumbling out. "I wanted to apologize, first. For being vague on rescheduling our Indian dinner last weekend, and then taking off like the Wicked Witch was after me when I saw you the other morning. I've...it's been a weird week. And that was rude of me. So I apologize."

“I understand.” Marcus gives a rueful chuckle. “I’ve had a bit of a weird one myself. My phone has been broken three different times in the past week alone.” He snorts. “And half my contacts and messages have been unrecoverable according to the techs at the store.” He sighs. “So if you send me a message or something and I didn’t answer, I promise I wasn’t ignoring you.”

The I told you so look on Syd's face causes you to throw a pillow at her and you shake your head as though he was in the room with you instead of over the phone. "I texted you once about rescheduling dinner,' you admit. "But...I have a slightly different suggestion, if...if you want to hear it? And I would consider it an enormous favor."

It’s on the tip of his tongue to decline, but he is curious to hear what this favor is. “Hit me.” He tells you with a slight chuckle. “But not too hard. I have to work tomorrow.”

"I promise I'm not capable of punching through a cell phone." It's easy to talk to him. So easy. And it lulls you into a momentary false sense of security as you sit back on your bed. "But...I have a plus one to a State dinner for the Spanish royal family on Saturday night and I was wondering if you wanted to come to a party at the White House?" It's such an insane thing to ask a person that you almost feel like it's an out of body experience, but there it is. It's out in the open. There's no taking it back now.

“I-“ Of all the questions he tries to anticipate, that was not it. He frowns slightly, wondering about the congressman, until he remember that Vanessa had said he was sick with pneumonia. It’s likely him being sick has put you into a frenzy to find someone to go. Not the reason he would like to have dinner with you, but he wants to view you as a friend and this will be a friendly, public event. “Sounds like I need to get my tuxedo to the cleaners.”

"Oh my god, you're a lifesaver." The air whooshes out of you all at once and you fall back onto your bed with a gigantic sigh. "I will come and pick you up myself, the food is going to be amazing, and you can rag on me with my pain-in-the-ass siblings all night. I can't say how grateful I am, Marcus. Really. Thank you so much."

“It’s a honor that you even considered me to escort you” Marcus tells you truthfully. “I’ll be exited to go and I promise to keep the ragging to a minimum.”

"You've earned the right, I promise." You blow out another breath and manage to sit up but solidly ignore the smug look on your best friend's face. "I'll text you the details, if that's okay? Is your phone situation all worked out?"

He laughs quietly. “Hopefully so. All I know is that it is never a good idea to set your phone on the roof of the car when the rookie is driving.” Marcus snorts. “If I don’t get a message by tomorrow, I’ll call you. Sound good?”

"Sounds perfect." Quiet for a second, you take your phone out of Sydney's hand and smile, the smallest twitch of the thing in the corners of your mouth. "Thank you, Marcus. I owe you, but I promise we'll have fun."

“Don’t even worry about it.” He promises. “Well, I hope you have a great rest of your weekend, okay?” He asks. “And tell Sam to feel better.”

"I will." Passing that message along might be slightly strained, but it's the thought that counts. Thanking him again, you press the red button on your phone screen to end the call and groan so loudly that Agent Bailey sticks her head into the room just to make sure you didn't hurt yourself. "I can't believe you did that!" You squawk, throwing a second pillow at Sydney. This one hits her square in the shoulder where the first one missed.

“But tell me it wasn’t worth it?” She challenges, throwing the pillow back at you. “You have a date for the State dinner and you learned that he wasn’t ignoring you either.” She folds her arms over her chest and looks at you with a smug smile. “Come on, what other problems do we need to solve? World hunger?”

"Go to Friday night dinner in my place if you want to work on global issues." You snark playfully. The fact is, you know she's right. Annoyingly so, actually, and right now you're still processing.

“Maybe now you will get some sleep.” She huffs, still smug that everything was working out. “You’ve got a dress, a date and I’ll even have one of the wedding stylists that owes me a favor come do your hair and makeup.” She hums. “I made a special dinner for her and her boyfriend for Valentine’s.” She explains.

"What are you, the Romance Fairy?" Dragging yourself off the bed, you carry the dress over to your closet and carefully hang it up where nothing bad could ever touch it. The garment bag that it's in will help make sure of that. "Come on, we have soup to make."

She doesn’t mention that the State dinner isn’t supposed to be romantic. She just grins and follows you. “Yes ma’am, Hummingbird, ma’am.”

"Oh god, don't call me that around him." This, in particular, is an incredibly stern warning. At this point you're just grateful that the Secret Service use your callsign quietly enough that they're not overheard when they say it. "I'll die of embarrassment."

“I won’t.” She promises, aware that you aren’t quite ready to address that particular issue.

“I just don’t even want to think about that.” You don’t want to, but you have been. Rather constantly, which is a growing issue.

“Let’s just get you through the State dinner and your birthday.” Syd suggests. “Then you can let that big brain of yours work overtime on non-issues.”

Throwing Sydney a look of dismay over the last of your coffee, you pout animatedly. “I debated terms of my birthday with my mother at the last dinner.”

“And?” Sydney almost laughs at your look and turns away to start rummaging through your fridge for the ingredients for the soup. “What was negotiated?”

“Cocktail. High end pub, finger foods and a DJ.” You shake your head and huff a sigh. “I said I should just go to a ball game, but that was unacceptable.”

“It’s hard to run security for the president at a stadium.” She reminds you. “And your mom would want to be there.”

“I just…” Looking back at Sydney, you cross your arms and shrug. “I don’t think I have all that much to celebrate this year, I guess.”

“You have a lot to celebrate.” Your friend will always hype you up and she does so now. “You have your health, a successful business with your best friend.” She cheeses playfully at you. “Your mother is the president of the United States and….” She shrugs. “You’ve hit your dirty thirties. We have to celebrate.”

“I can’t exactly have dirty thirties when my mother is the president.” You throw your arms around her again and squeeze her shoulders, grateful for every second you have Sydney by your side. You’ve been each other’s ride or die since first grade and that will never change. “And you’re pregnant, so you already got dirty.”

“I did.” She snorts with a wicked grin. “And I enjoyed every second of it, too.”

“Perv.” You really can’t help but tease her, but it’s purely out of affection. “It’s just because you’ve got your super sexy soulmate. The Triple S is undeniable.”

“He is sexy.” She can’t deny that, grinning wickedly as she rubs her stomach. “And getting sexier. Did I tell you he’s starting to get sympathy cravings? Dad bod mode is close.”

“Your wildest dreams are all about to come true.” The two of you giggle together as you start to pull ingredients out of the fridge, getting started on cooking that batch of soup.

“So, do you feel better now?” Sydney asks, organizing the vegetables and opening the drawer for the carrot peeler. She had helped you set up the kitchen to her specifications so she could easily find what she wanted when she cooked here.

“A little.” It’s relief more than anything, as you start to peel fresh ginger. It’s the secret ingredient to your best ever chicken noodle soup. “And then I feel guilty for it, which is fucked up. Like I think Marcus might actually enjoy himself on Saturday just for the bragging rights and then I immediately feel bad for thinking that.”

“Why do you feel bad?” She cocks her head as she peels the outer layer off the crisp, orange carrots. “I think most people will enjoy themselves just for bragging rights, it’s brag worthy.”

“Promise you won’t judge me and promise you won’t tell anyone. Not even Juan.” Holding your pinky finger out to her is the most solemn promise you can possibly as of your friend, and neither one of you has ever refused it.

“Of course.” Juan knows everything you are comfortable with, but she would never betray your trust like that. She hooks her finger around yours and looks at you for an explanation.

“I…” Glancing around, you see that Agent Bailey has dutifully slipped out of earshot and is sitting on your couch with a crossword book firmly in hand. “I feel guilty because now that it’s set…I can’t help wishing it was a date,” you admit quietly, hanging your head turn.

“It kind of is a date.” Syd admits, looking at you with a sense of regret for teasing you. “A platonic on, but a date nonetheless.” She hums. “Just like you and I have dates. Friend dates.”

“That…regrettably…is not what I mean.” The best you can really do is shrug your shoulders in defeat. “Friend dates are awesome and I will take you on dates for the rest of our lives. But I—I wish this was different than that. And it sucks.”

“You can’t help attraction.” She argues softly, knowing that you will still feel guilty. You are very stern about cheating, and this is veering into emotional territory for you. “He might not- it should just be about the dinner.”

“I know.” Peel ginger. Grate ginger. Try not to think too hard about what Marcus will look like in a tux. “I know. You’re right.”

“I’m sorry.” She murmurs softly. “I shouldn’t have pushed.” She feels guilty, especially now that she knows how you are feeling about this.

“How could you have known? I’ve kept this as firmly to myself as I possibly could.” And keeping things from Sydney is the most impossible task in the world for you. “Besides. He was the right choice.”

“Still doesn’t make me any less sorry.” She huffs, washing the carrots and bringing them over to the chopping board. “I don’t want you to be stressed, I want you to be happy.”

“I’m going to be stressed until I make a decision about what to do.” Once the ginger is done you move on to washing and slicing celery. “And I don’t know how to make that decision.”

Sydney sighs heavily. “I hate that for you.” She admits softly. “If you need to talk, you let me know.”

“What does Juanito think I should do?” You know her well enough to know that she’s talked to her husband — her own soulmate — about this at least a little.

“Juan thinks that you should be happy.” She hums softly. “Whatever that entails. As long as you are fair to everyone.”

"No groundbreaking advice?" If you're honest with yourself, you were kind of hoping for it. Instead, you're definitely floundering.

Sydney stops chopping and points the tip of the knife at you. “You know what he would say, Birdie.”

Ugh. That's true. You do. Juan is unfalteringly trustworthy like that. "That I have to talk to both of them..."

“Even if Marcus isn’t your soulmate, you are attracted to him, and it’s worth seeing if he might be the one you want to be with.” She shrugs, knowing that it’s easy to give advice when she’s found her soulmate and is blissfully happy. “Or it might just say that Sam isn’t the one.”

"Have you noticed a pattern?" Even as you're making the soup, going through effort and putting care into a dish to comfort and heal, a pattern is becoming as obvious as daybreak.

“I have.” She nods and looks back up at you. “Have you noticed that pattern? Or have you just been ignoring it?”

"I think..." A heavy sigh escapes you as you deposit the clean, diced celery in a bowl. "I might have been ignoring it."

“It’s okay to admit that a relationship has run its course.” She reminds you. “Sometimes, things just aren’t meant to be.”

"It's just...no version of this conversation we've had in the last few weeks has ended with the conclusion that I should stay with Sam. And that...that is not how I ever expected things to go. He's such a sweet guy and we've had such a good time." Just as unexpected as this conclusion is the tear that rolls down your cheek, and you brush it away immediately. "It's shitty to break up with someone while they're sick, right?"

“I think you owe him a face to face explanation.” She doesn’t tell you that it’s wrong, if that’s what you want to do. She’ll support whatever you want.

"Shit," you groan, reaching next for an onion. Sydney has trained you to be a dutiful sous chef for so long that now you just do her prep work without thinking. "This is going to suck, isn't it?"

“It doesn’t have to.” She counters. “You said Sam’s reaction was….surprisingly hostile. Maybe he’s had some doubts about the relationship too.”

"If he was hostile about the fact that I was standing my ground, he's either going to be hostile about being broken up with, or just completely silent." Sam doesn't take rejection well, you've seen it in a more professional setting but it will certainly apply here.

“Was he hostile?” She asks seriously. “Or were you both in unknown territory and stubbornly waiting for the other to give in?”

Groaning animatedly, you bump Sydney with your hip at the counter and shake your head. "Sometimes I truly dislike how well you know me. I'm just saying that out loud for the record."

“You know you love me.” She snorted and blows a raspberry at you playfully.

"I do love you." But it garners another groan from you all the same. "This was so much easier when we were kids and our life plan was to live in a castle until we were old enough for a nursing home, and then to be the super weird old ladies on the front porch of the home cursing at people as they walked by."

“We are still on for that.” She jokes, motioning to the apartment. “We are in our castle right now.”

"Technically we can go to an American castle any time we want," you point out. "It comes with the price of visiting my family, but the White House does count as a castle."

“Yes it does.” She agrees, proud to know the first family so well. “But I like our castle better.”

"I love this place." From the first day you set foot inside the inn, you have absolutely adored both working here and even running the place. Living in the caretaker's apartment has been comforting. Like a warm hug on a cold day. "And I love that we get to share it."

“There is no one I would rather do this with.” She tells you honestly, so excited to be able to live out the vague dreams of college now as adults.

"You're gonna make me teary again," you complain, fully teasing her but definitely feeling a little emotional about the whole situation.

“I thought it was my job to be the emotional mess.” Sydney sniffles and moves to wrap her arms around you and squeeze tight.

“Sympathy mood swings.” That makes both of you laugh, there at the counter. “Is that a thing?”

“Why not?” She asks, laughing herself at her husband and best friend having sympathy symptoms of her pregnancy.

“It is now, I guess.” You keep working through the soup prep side by side, getting everything ready in unison. “The thing is…” you hum after you’ve both stopped laughing. “I do care about Sam. And I want him to be happy. I just…don’t think I’m going to be the one to give him the future he wants. Which sucks to realize.”

“It’s better that you realize it now.” She rationalizes. “Less heartache and it’s not like you’re married with kids.”

“And we haven’t started moving in.” That’s an unexpected relief, and the realization that it was moving in together that kicked at your doubt is something you’ll have to grapple with later. “I probably only have a couple of things at his place and the only thing I’ve got of his here is a book I borrowed.”

“And….” She sighs. “Let’s face it, Sam wasn’t happy with you spending all your time at the inn.” She voices. “He rarely wanted to come here, even though he’s the one that can more easily travel.”

“Have you been holding back on me, Badillo?” You raise an eyebrow at her as she works on the chicken. “Hiding the things about Sam that have been bothering you?”

“No.” You don’t seem very surprised. “Just observations that I have made, but I wasn’t sure how you would take them.” She explains. “You were very proud of your relationship with Sam and I didn’t want to influence you unduly.”

"I was." And you can acknowledge that firmly, knowing that the relationship you forged with Sam was based on respect and mutual affection. It does feel like failure to see it ending, but at least you tried. Failure is just a means for new growth, as your mother has always told you.

“I know you look at this as a failure.” She’s known you way too long to think otherwise. “But this was a year long relationship that at the end of the day- you weren’t on the same page.”

“I think it would feel very different if I wasn’t sure it was going to end up talked about in every gossip column from sea to shining sea.” You can’t help but roll your eyes, knowing — and hating — how true it is. Junie isn’t dating and Alex isn’t dating publicly, so all eyes are on you. Especially if you break up with a Congressman.

“Don’t let it bother you.” She urges you. “It’s not like they can say anything bad.”

“Tell that to Princess Diana.” You huff, shaking your head and rolling your shoulders to try to straighten out your head a little. “Okay. New topic. Baby name? I’m dying to know what you guys picked.”

She smiles, rubbing her stomach in that universally happy way all expectant mothers do. “Constance Maria Badillo.” She lights up as she tells you the name they had finally decided on last night.

“Oh, honey.” There��s a measure of delight in your giggle when you light up, finding out those two essential pieces of information all at once. Sydney and Juan had been keeping both under wraps. “It’s a girl? Really?”

“We just found out.” She admits, grinning like a maniac. “Of course, baby Badillo could have just been shy but they are pretty positive she’s a girl.”

"You must be thrilled." Of course Sydney would be happy no matter what the gender as long as the baby is healthy, but you know she's always dreamed about having her little girl.

“Over the moon.” Agreeing happily, she turns back to the chicken. “And Juan and I have talked about it.” It’s a casual beginning. “We want you to be her Godmother, as well as Auntie Birdie.”

"Syd." Your knife gets put down immediately and you turn to her with a look of complete awe on your face. "Are you sure? You don't want to ask your sister? I mean I am honored and one thousand percent here for it."

“No.” She shakes her head and her own tools are set down so she can address this properly. “There is no one that we want more than you.” She explains. “You will always be my choice for godparent.”

"I know I've said it before in our lives, but I am here for anything you need." It's not just for Syd, and you lean down and hum a happy hello to your goddaughter that's growing like crazy. "That goes for you too, kiddo. Hear me? Auntie Birdie's got your back. And your front. And all the other bits of you forever."

“You are going to be her favorite.” Sydney sniffles, her hormones making her cry happy tears. “The one she confides in when she can’t bear to tell me or Juan and I love you for that.”

“I hope so.” Wrapping your best friend up in a hug is exactly what this moment needs, and the sound of two women sniffling takes over your kitchen for just long enough to make both of you break out into giggles. “She’s going to get the best of me and I’m going to tell her about all the stupid bullshit we got into as teenagers.”

“Oh god, you better not.” Sydney groans, rolling her eyes. “Nothing she can throw back in my face when she’s angsty and argumentative.”

“Nothing that will put you in Mom Jail,” you tease with a wink. “Promise.”

“Thank goodness.” She snorts. “This one is already gonna have her daddy wrapped around her finger, so I’m gonna have to be the bad cop.”

“It will go back and forth. One day she’ll do something that makes Juan crazy and you’ll be the arms that she runs to.” It happened in your own house more than once, there’s no reason it won’t happen in hers, too. “It will all turn out. She’s going to have the best parents in the world.”

“I hope so.” She shrugs slightly, aware that they will make mistakes, but hopefully it won’t be too bad to make their daughter hate them.

“You have love,” you remind her with a gentle smile. “Have a little faith, too. If nothing else, we all believe in you. All your friends and your family know you’re going to be great.”

“We will have our little village for Constance.” She agrees. “So when we mess up, we can learn.”

“For Baby Badillo number two,” you tease, beaming at her.

“Juan is already asking how many more I want.” Sydney snort, huffing slightly even if she’s grinning. “Told him that he needed to let me birth this one first before we decided that.”

“One at a time is probably best. For your body and your sanity.” Although, you do raise an eyebrow at her. “Twins don’t run in your family, right?”

“Not that I know of, but Juan thinks some cousins might have twins.” She winces and shakes her head with a laugh. “I’ll kill him.”

"Fingers crossed that you only have to grow one baby at a time." With everything prepped, you move to the sink to wash your knives and fetch your best stock pot from the cabinets. "But I will spoil the hell out of all of them, no matter what."

“I know you will.” She knows what despite your already busy schedule, you will always make time for those that matter most to you. Which is why it’s so telling her that you and Sam have been spending less and less time together over the last few months.

“So…” Flashing Sydney a grin as she starts to cook, you move back to the refrigerator to put things away and to get fresh drinks for both of you. “Two questions, then. First: Have you picked a godfather? And two, if I’m her go mother does that mean I get to throw your baby shower?”

"I'm letting Juan pick out the godfather." She admits, shrugging slightly. "I don't- he's got some ideas, but he hasn't made a final decision yet."

“Most of his friends are fathers already, aren’t they?” The Guy friends that Juan had made in the DC area since moving east after meeting Sydney are all responsible men around his age and most of them have families of their own. It’s a small group, it they’re tight knit.

"Yeah....except that, now, Juan has started thinking that he wants someone that is...." She rolls her eyes, "trained." She huffs and moves over to wash her hands again. "You know how involved he was with beefing up security here, he wants a protector for our little girl in case something happens to us."

“Well…that’s not unreasonable, right?” Spying a can of croissant dough — a cheat you’re very fond of — in your fridge, you grab it and decide to fill them with Nutella and berries for a little dessert pastry. “I mean he’s got friends who are trained. Be able to pick someone.”

"I know." She sighs and turns back to you. "I just hate that he's so practical about it." She admits, biting her lip again. "I don't want to think about us not being here to protect her."

“Then try to think of it like he’s choosing someone who can help her learn to protect herself,” you offer instead. As she grows up and faces new things — whatever those things are — her godfather will have been there to teach her self-confidence and safety in equal measure.”

There's a moment where Sydney thinks about what you said and how it applies to the situation before she huffs out a slightly annoyed, mostly amused laugh. "How do you do that?" She grumbles. "I was ready to be in a tearful pout about that you have to go make it perfectly acceptable." There's no heat to her words and she flashes you a grateful smile. "Thanks."

“We’ve been friends for twenty-five years, Sydney Rose.” The grin you flash back at her in unapologetic. “If I don’t know how to talk you out of a panic by now, I’m more clueless than I thought.”

Pursing her lips at you, she doesn't try to deny it. Instead, she turns to rummage in your spice cabinet. "Do you have that turmeric I left up here last time?"

“It’s behind the huge mason jar of chili seasoning.” You tell her without looking up from your dough-chocolate-and-berry project. “Indian spices are in the back because I fucked up the last time I tried to make curry from scratch and they were taunting me.”

“Poor thing.” Sydney sympathizes and shrugs. “We just need to realize they put something extra in their recipes they won’t tell us.” She hums, talking about your favorite curry from your favorite restaurant that you had cancelled on Marcus going to.

"Some kind of magic that I can't wrap my brain around." There were strawberries in your fridge that you're now set on cleaning and trimming. A crescent roll filled with a dollop of Nutella and a whole strawberry is a thing of beauty. "I should just eat their take out every week for the rest of my life instead of trying to make it."

She smirks at you but doesn’t remind you that you would have had some the other day. It would be too cruel. “How about we order some Sunday?” She suggests. “Decompress from the State dinner?”

“That sounds amazing.” The gratitude you have and have always had for her friendship truly is never ending. “You can tell me all about dinner with your folks and we can get chaotic with each other over curry and Scrabble?”

“Sounds like we are party-ing.”She teases, although she loves it. Low key nights are her favorite.

“And all the sparkling apple cider we can stand.” If she’s going to tease you, you’re going to tease her right back. “By the way, I asked Mom to make sure my birthday has a mocktail so you don’t miss out on the fun.”

“You’re the best, you know that?” She beams at being included and tilts her head. “So how was the family dinner, besides the avoidance of Sam talk?”

“Alex is bringing David to the State dinner. Under wraps, of course.” Syd has known your family so long that she knows every inch of your siblings’ lives as well, just like you know hers. “Junie is learning to negotiate to be able to go to parties, so I know I’ve done my job as her big sister right.

“Your brother should be able to take any fucking body he wants to the State dinner.” She rolls her eyes and huffs, offended on behalf of your younger brother. “If foreign dignitaries don’t like it, fuck ‘em.”

"He can. It's not like the Spanish royals have a 'no gays' policy or something, and gay marriage obviously isn't the issue. It's that he doesn't want to become the center of an unnecessary debate. He is who he is, and I'm so proud of him for making his choices." Glancing over at her, you shrug slightly. "That being said? I get not wanting to be thrown into the spotlight for who you love."

“Of course you do.” It’s kind of a double-edged sword in her opinion, the political spotlight. You could be a darling of the media one day and the scapegoat the next, just depending on how the mercurial whim of the people shifted.

"It's one thing that Sam didn't seem to mind, and I was grateful for that." In no way are you going to start bad mouthing the man just because you've reached the finish line of your relationship. That's not the kind of person you are.

“I know, but I also know that dating a presidential candidate’s daughter during an election isn’t exactly bad press for a politician.” She holds up a hand. “I’m not saying that’s why he dated you, I’m not speaking ill, I’m just stating facts.”

"If he actually wants to be President, he needs to get used to having the Secret Service being around real fast." You snort, shaking your head and knowing that it really has been one thing bothering him pretty constantly. "He hates feeling like his privacy is being invaded."

“It might be because he’s not in control of the detail.” She guesses. “You have the final say on the detail and where they are.”

"Either way, I don't think he'll miss having an agent in his living room." There are plenty of strawberries, so you offer one to Syd and pop a small one in your mouth to savor. "Maybe I just won’t date during my mom’s administration. Maybe that’s the solution.”

“You like having a partner though.” She argues. “And you shouldn’t give up dating because of who your mother is.”

"It might just be less complicated." It's not what you want but it would certainly save you some heartache. "What's the worst that happens? I'm single for the next eight years?"

“Already counting on that re-election?” She teases, bumping your hip playfully.

You huff, swallowing a half-laugh, and bump her back. "More like pondering my worst case scenario."

“Whatever happens, we will be with you.” She promises with a grin.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

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My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x f!reader #The Mentalist #soulmate au #First Daughter reader #Juan Badillo #Graceland #Juan Badillo x f!OC #Juan Badillo x OC #love triangle

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thewalkingwillowtree · 15 days

Text

Safe Haven

Series Part Listing Found Here

Neteyam x Original Na'vi Female Character

Summery: Seeking refuge, Xilä and her father venture to the lands of the Omatikaya clan, in the hopes that the Toruk Makto would be generous in allowing them to stay. This is her story about not only finding her strength, but finding love.

Warning: This story contains smut, violence & abuse (please don't read if these topics will affect you)

Some characters have been aged up. Neteyam in particular is 25.

Xilä is my own creation.

WAIT! Please note this part contains time skips.

Part 21 - Epilogue

‘Xilä’s in labor.’

‘My wife is about to have my kid.’

‘Holy shit, my kid. Mine…’

‘I’m going to be a father.’

‘Fuck, I don’t know if I can do this.’

To say Neteyam was freaking out was putting it mildly and- Oh fuck. His damn father-in-law was walking towards him. The last thing he wanted was for the man to see him like this.

The first time Neteyam had a full conversation with Jxo, he was ten years old.

To him, Jxo had always been a man of very few words. He never smiled, hated small talk and was extremely intimidating. But he was also incredibly respected throughout the entire clan, and well, Salveen liked him a lot, and so did bossy D’avi, so those were good enough reasons for the ten year old to think him alright.

Being the chief’s son brought its fair share of challenges. There was a time when a group of boys tried to bully him over his “golden boy” status. Neteyam had fought back- and lost.

He was ten, and a mess after. And instead of returning home, he ran to Sal’s but she’d already gone to the kitchens that evening.

Jxo, seeing his cuts and bruises beckoned him in and silently cleaned his injuries- a split lip, swollen cheek, scraped knees and bloody knuckles.

And when the man finally asked, “What happened?”

Neteyam broke down and sobbed. He was hysterical and mad at himself for not being strong, mad that he was even crying. He was a man for Eywa sake! A soldier! A warrior! Just like his dad.

But that day he was grateful that Jxo didn’t treat him like a silly kid- like everyone else did. Jxo calmed him. He was his usual gruff self and spoke to him straight. Treated him like an equal and imparted words of advice Neteyam needed to hear.

Flash forward to fifteen years later, on the night that he would become a father for the first time, Neteyam was hysterical just like that very day.

Xilä’s water had only broken half an hour ago and Neteyam was spiralling- or freaking out as his visiting brother had been teasing. Irritated and short tempered, he snapped at anyone who got too close to his mate who had been slowly pacing up and down the interior of the Tsahìk’s tent while her birthing room was being prepared.

And just like he did fifteen years ago, Jxo and his no nonsense- never one to beat around the bush, pulled him outside and called him an idiot- a skxawng, telling him he needed to to get his shit together and stop snarling and hissing at everyone like a “fucking palulukan”.

When he’d finished telling him off, he blew out a breath then continued- far gentler or as gentle the man could be, parting fatherly words of wisdom and advice with a comforting hand clasped on his shoulder.

Neteyam humbled himself and took it all in, and by the end he felt lighter, calmer and far more level headed.

With a final, “Don’t fuck it up. She needs you. So get in there, skxawng,” the soon to be father chuckled with a brisk nod, thanked the elder and headed towards his wife.

“Swear I’ve gone back twenty-five years,” Jake murmured in disbelief at his grandson in his arms. “He looks just like you did, son.”

Neytiri hastily wiped a tear that escaped her as she too stared transfixed.

“He’s got Xi’s eyes,” Neteyam announced proudly as he lingered closely.

“And her ears,” his mother noted with another sniffle. “He’s beautiful.” Neytiri gently stroked Sprout’s little fist. “Jake, you've had him long enough. It is my turn again,” she bossed her husband.

Passed over to his grandmother, their baby made a soft sound. He whined and twisted slightly before settling back into sleep.

Jxo pressed another kiss to the top of his daughter’s head as she rested against his shoulder. “I’m so proud of you, darling,” her father told her for the third time since their parents were let in. “You did good.”

Sal nodded in agreement, her own eyes swimming in happy tears as she tucked a few of Xi’s braids behind her ear and continued to fuss over her- pouring her another cup of tea to help with the pain.

Xilä was exhausted but yet a soft smile still graced her face as she watched their parents meet their son for the first time. Jxo was the first to hold him after he’d greeted her with quiet words of praise. And just like Mo’at did, when she eased her son into her father’s arms, she didn’t miss the way his eyes glistened.

The entire moment was heartwarming, yet slightly comical to a degree. She grinned as she watched her husband hover protectively, scrutinizing every move any of them made as they held their child.

Even when Jake huffed amused, stating, “You know I had four of you right? I think I know how to hold a baby,” even then Neteyam didn’t care, he still fretted and lectured and adjusted their holds.

“Oh Eywa, you’re going to be a father just like my Jxo, aren’t you?” Sal chuckled and gently adjusted her grandson with the unnecessary aid of her son-in-law who had told her for the third time to, “Watch his head.”

“Huh?” Neteyam asked, baffled, the same time Jxo released a noise of offence.

“Yes, yes. He never liked anyone holding our D’avi. So protective he was.” She hummed wistfully at the memory, eyes never leaving the little one who had taken hold of her finger. “You are so sweet, yes you are. Hi. Hi,” she whispered softly as he blinked up at her, waking from his doze.

“This does not surprise me,” Neytiri chimed in. “Neteyam was never very good at sharing the things he loves. Xilä, and now our grandson will be included as well I’m afra- Oh Sal, look at his eyes.”

“Mom!”

But she ignored him since her and Sal’s attention laid solely on baby Sprout who was yawning, tiny body stretching in Sal’s hold.

“We’d be lucky if we ever get to see the kid,” Jake said, joining in on the teasing. “Knowing our son, he’d keep them locked away.”

Neytiri frowned at this. “My sweet Xi, you won’t let him hide the two of you away all the time, yes? I would like to see my grandson whenever I so pl-”

“Mom. Of course you’d get to see him.” Then after a long pause Neteyam continued with, “But there will be boundaries, and Xilä and I would expect that you all would… respect them.”

Jake covered his grin of amusement behind his fist and Jxo hid his in Xi’s hair- both men’s eyes automatically cutting to their wives who both had identical looks of indignation. In their heads Neteyam might as well just said they weren’t allowed to see their grandson… ever.

The women looked about ready to protest, but in the end they gave their agreement without so much as a peep. Neytiri however did reach out and pull her son- who was twice her size- into a hug with a, “Eywa, my baby is all grown up now.”

“Can I have him, mother?” Xi was itching to have her son back in her arms. It hadn’t been long but she missed him already.

Neteyam was the one to pass him over. His palm found Xi’s nape, thumb stroking her cheek as he stole a kiss from her, uncaring of their audience.

Sprout stretched with another yawn, fingers opening then curling back up before he nosed at her chest instinctively, cooing a tiny fuss as his legs kicked out.

Xi tossed a thin cloth over shoulder, covering herself and the babe. She bared one breast and guided him to her nipple. Her baby latched eagerly, little mouth suckling with gusto.

She knew it was probably a bit silly to want privacy since it was a natural thing to nurse one’s baby in the open. But she wasn’t there quite yet.

Eyes closed, she listened to the quiet conversation around her and leaned heavily on her husband who curled around her.

“What have you decided to name him?” Jxo asked his son-in-law. “Have you chosen yet?

Xilä felt smiling lips against her forehead.

“Zyden. Our son’s name is Zyden.”

Neteyam made his way towards the lively activity at the southern border of the clan- eyes roaming quickly to take in every inch of the scene.

The mission fleet that had just returned were being aided- travel packs and goods were unloaded while ikran wranglers steadied the restless mountain beasts.

After being months apart, riders were greeted with open arms by their waiting families and judging by the ease of their smiling faces, Neteyam breathed a small sigh of relief that there seemed to be no pressing worries.

Tasam who’d led said mission was already talking to the chief. Jake nodded at whatever it was he’d said then clapped him on the shoulder before making his way towards another warrior.

Neteyam had missed Tasam, he realized. Seeing him after so long filled him with nostalgia, and the memory of them meeting for the first time on their very first day of Iknimaya training played in his mind.

“‘Teyam! You look good, brother,” Tasam called out. He met him halfway, crooked smile wide at the sight of his comrade and friend. “Fatherhood suits you.”

Neteyam couldn’t hide his pride as they clasped arms in greeting. “Tasam, welcome home. My son… Zyden,” he introduced, titling so that Tasam had a better view of the three month old strapped to his chest.

A soft swear word escaped Tasam when he saw the baby. He reached out and ran a knuckle along the back of Sprout’s hand in amazement. “He favors your looks.”

Zyden’s wide silver eyes tracked Tasam’s hand. He cooed loudly then promptly shoved his little fist against his mouth, making sucking sounds as he drooled all over his knuckles.

“I can’t believe I missed so much. How’s Xi? The birth went well?”

“It did, thank Eywa and she’s great. Tired but great.”

Tasam grinned at his friend’s expression. Neteyam was a hardass and as serious as they came. He always seemed to wear a mask of impassiveness that was near impossible to discern most days. Today however, the mask was nowhere to be seen.

“It’s good to see you this happy.”

“Eywa has bountifully blessed me, how could I not be?” He jerked his head, gesturing for them to walk onwards, a large protective palm resting beneath Zyden. “Tell me, how was the trip? I’m sorry we missed you before you left. I didn’t know you’d be gone so long.”

“I share the same sentiments. As for the trip, it was… interesting. The Sarentu clan… they’re in a bad way. The couple months we stayed we managed to make some good changes, but they still need all the help they can get. I’m hoping another fleet can ride out before the end of the week.”

“It’s that bad?”

“Their clan is but a fraction of ours and they’re unable to help themselves properly. They have maybe five- six, capable hunters?” he said exasperated. “The clan is exposed. Not enough warriors to provide protection. Not enough hunters to provide food. It is a wonder they have survived this long.”

Neteyam considered his words. “It is things like this that make me glad my father reached out and started this entire initiative. Their chief said as much back at Awa’atlu. He came mainly in the hope that would help.”

With the nearest cluster of communities in sight, Tasam slowed his stroll causing Neteyam to do the same.

During their walk the father had kept periodically checking in on his son who seemed settled and content against him. Looking down, he saw that Zyden’s eyelids were slowly drooping, little mouth quivering in his sleep as though he were feeding.

“Do you think Kiri would like bellsprigs? As a gift I mean… It's kind of rare here but bountiful near this clearing I found back at Sarentu.”

The sudden topic change had Neteyam blinking in confusion.

“Um, sure? I think she’d like them. Wait, aren't those extremely dangerous to harvest?”

“They are- were,” Tasan held up his palm showing off a deep gash that was still healing, “but it’s Kiri. I’d do anything for her.”

“Huh… You really like her, don’t you?” He got no response and halted, noting his friend was no longer walking beside him. “What is it?”

“I-” Tasam looked uncomfortable now and was no longer meeting his gaze. “I-” He hesitated again and rubbed at his brow, frowning deeply, almost as if he’d forgotten what he was supposed to say.

“Tas-”

“I wish for your permission to court Kiri,” he rushed out.

A long uncomfortable silence proceeded before Neteyam found his voice again. “You- uh, well why are you asking me? Shouldn’t you be asking my parents?”

“I’m planning on it. I asked the chief if I could meet with him and your mother after I give my full report tomorrow,” he scratched his neck, “I suppose he knows what I’m going to ask. Your father gave me this weird, blank look then sort of reluctantly agreed… But I- you see…”

It was jarring and almost amusing to Neteyam to see his friend so scatterbrained and fidgety. Was he… nervous? Shit, he was.

“What I’m trying and evidently failing to say here, is- I care for your sister. She has my whole heart and… and although you are my commanding officer and my future chief and I have the highest of respect for you… You’re also my closest friend, and as Kiri’s brother, I’d very much like to have your permission in addition to your parents’.”

Eywa. Neteyam really wished his mate was here. He was not good with these kinds of situations. Not when it came to his sisters. No wonder Jxo always looked like he was about ready to punch his face most times.

Kiri and Tasam…? His sister and his- well who was Neteyam kidding, Tasam was as good as his best friend. Why did this all seem like a surprise to him though? He somehow knew it would be coming… didn’t he?

He thought back to every interaction between the two. The man was smitten with Kiri, and Kiri… well, Kiri was near unrecognizable around Tasam.

He made her happy.

That was all that mattered, no?

“You have my permission.”

Tasam’s jaw fell a little, then he straightened up when Neteyam’s face turned mildly murderous.

“But you should know, my sister is precious. I don’t care if you hurt her unintentionally or not… you know what I’m capable of.”

It should’ve been difficult to take the mighty Neteyam’s threats to heart when he had an adorable infant strapped to his chest. But Tasam still felt the sting of his words.

“Are you nervous to ask my parents?” Neteyam asked when they’d made it to the heart of Home Camp.

“Am I nervous to ask the clan’s Olo'eyktan and Olo'eykte if I could court their eldest daughter? That’s a joke right?” Tasam huffed. “Course I’m nervous. But I’ve been wanting this for Kiri and I for so long now. That and I already told Kiri I was going to ask her when you all got back.”

Neteyam laughed, accidentally waking his son who woke with a startled cry. He was quick to comfort the baby with soothing strokes and pats on the back. He also gave him his index finger to hold which of course Zyden instantly put in his mouth.

“You told Kiri you were going to ask her before you asked for my parents permission?”

Tasam back slapped his arm, careful not to jostle the baby. “If I remember correctly, you did about the same thing with your Xilä.”

“Shit, that’s right.”

“And worse… It was all the clan could talk about for months, some still to this very day. No meeting of the parents, no announcements, no ceremonies, no-”

“Alright alright, you made your poi-”

“You’re back!” a distant voice called excitedly.

Kiri’s smile was almost giddy as she made her way closer and from the look of Tasam’s he was probably- nope, definitely worse.

Ugh. Neteyam was suddenly nauseous. While the duo reunited- lovestruck gazes locked on each other, he focused on his son who was still biting away on his finger, drool leaking down his chin and along Neteyam’s palm.

“Your aunty Kiri and her new boyfriend are going to make your poor daddy sick, aren't they,” he whisper-sang to his son. “Yes they are.”

Zyden smiled up at this father as if he understood, gurgling while flashing his gums.

“Oh here, let me help you with that.” Tasam swooped in with ease and hefted the heavy basket Kiri had been straining with.

“Thank you.” Her cheeks were flushed and she bit her lip to tame her smile while she and the warrior continued to fail at being non obvious lovesick fools.

Zyden’s coo broke their spell.

“‘Teyam!” Kiri exclaimed as if shocked to see him standing there.

“Kiri.”

“And Zyden!” His sister snagged the baby right out of his carrier and held him close, squishing his cheek against hers as she rocked him.

Zyden looked slightly alarmed, eyes wide at the sudden movement but he did not cry.

Neteyam simply sighed at the pair all the while and of course, the mighty Tasam was just about melting at the sight.

“What are you up to, my love?”

The baby turned and gave his mother a cheeky grin that showed off all four of his baby teeth and it just about melted her heart.

But Xi wasn’t fooled by his cuteness, she saw the glint of mischief shining through his expression.

The determined thing waited until she was busy folding another large sheet before he went off again, crawling towards his most recent fasciation.

“Zyden.” Xilä’s tone was soft but firm. “Uh-uh. No playing over there.”

Zyden released an unhappy whine at the reprimand. And despite his mother’s warning, he still reached and held onto the bottom of the wooden shelf to pull himself up on wobbly legs.

Even though the shelf that housed her husband’s weapons was sturdy and Xi knew the baby couldn’t reach anything, she still corrected her son- letting him know it was dangerous.

His little leg tried to lift, dangling with nowhere to perch. Not getting anywhere, he stomped his foot in frustration, though it didn’t stop him from trying again.

“Zyden Sully!” Xi clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Uh-uh, mama said no. Come down from there.”

At that, his tiny face scrunched up in anger, bottom lip pouting as tears rapidly pooled along his lash line. He pointed at the shelf and babbled his displeasure.

“I know. I know. But you’re too young for those. When you’re older I’m sure daddy will love teaching you to use them.”

Zyden drew a long, silent breath then promptly wailed louder with his head thrown back. One would swear she’d just ruined his entire life.

“Aw, come here, my love.”

She could sense a full blown tantrum brewing and since Sal had told her earlier Zyden missed his afternoon nap, Xi expected her son would turn tired and cranky right around this time.

Laundry forgotten and scattered around her, she gave him her full attention, beckoning him over.

“Zyden, my heart, come here.”

Listening, he carefully fell to his butt and crawled towards her. “Mma-ma,” he cried, tiny tail flicking back and forth as he moved.

How was he so perfect?

Xi gathered him into her arms the second he was within reach and smothered him with kisses- forehead, cheeks, nose, angry twitching ears.

“See? This is why we shouldn’t miss nap time, my love. So cranky,” she cooed in a singsong tone.

He rubbed his eyes and yawned tiredly- proving her point, then impatiently pawed at the cloth that covered her chest.

“Hang on, hang on.”

Settling him against her breast, he nursed more for comfort than hunger and while he fed, Xi stared down at him in adoration. She hummed a song and wiped away his lingering tears, thumb sliding across baby soft skin.

She marvelled over his wild curls while brushing them off his forehead and laughed quietly when he offered her his little foot for her to kiss, tiny toes wiggling cutely.

Nipple still in mouth, he smiled and reached up to pat her cheek, fingers gentle and stroking much like she’d done to him.

The action caused a tiny pang of sadness to hit her. He was growing up so fast- too fast.

Every one of his milestones filled her with pride- his first smile, first laugh, first word. She may have shed a tear or two over his first tooth… and maybe over the second, third and fourth ones too. And although she was eager for all the other firsts- especially his first steps, each new milestone always reminded her that he wouldn’t remain a baby forever, so she made sure to relish every moment.

The clanking sounds of their tent’s chimes alerted her that someone was here, and then the beaming face of her husband entering their home came into view.

“I’m home!”

Meal forgotten, Zyden grappled and used her top to help pull himself seated, legs and arms kicking and flailing excitedly at the sight of his daddy, gums and four little teeth proudly on display.

“Look who’s here, Sprout. Who’s that?”

He glanced back at her and pointed at Neteyam who was hurriedly putting away his things.

Zyden prattled a garble of baby talk, tail slashing so fast, Xi thought it’d flick right off.

Unable to contain himself any longer and with a loud gleeful shriek, their son crawled right out of her lap and charged full speed across the tapestry-covered ground, towards his father- all traces of his mini tantrum gone.

Neteyam laughed while scooping him up and tossed him in the air before settling him high on his chest. “Why are you naked, huh little man?” He smacked noisy kisses to Zyden’s chubby cheeks making the baby squeal happily.

“Your son figured out how to remove his tewng this evening.” Xi adjusted her top and picked up a towel to resume her folding. “Every time I put it back on, he took it off and the game seemed never ending, so I let him win for today.”

“Oh yeah?” Neteyam grinned proudly, as if she’d told him his son had accomplished some massive achievement. “You’re so clever, Zyden. Daddy’s so proud of you.”

Xilä paused and simply stared at her two favourite people in the universe. Eywa, did she love them with her entire being.

“Mmba-Da-da.” Zyden babbled, tiny palms smacking Neteyam’s cheek and nose and mouth until he spotted and made a grab for the lone string of beads in his daddy’s hair.

“That’s right, Sprout, that’s me! I’m daddy.”

Only recently and after a lot of coaxing, Zyden had started saying dada. Xilä didn’t think she’d ever seen her husband cry that much when he’d said it, but then again she herself was a sobbing sap when his first word was mama.

Neteyam made his way over and crouched down to greet his wife. She kissed him back and they both broke out into laughter when Sprout leaned over to do the same- drooly lips open against her cheek in his version of a kiss.

As soon as he was set down, Zyden crawled off towards a forgotten toy. He tossed it away then charged after it, finding fun in doing it over and again.

“I spoke to Lo’ak and Tsireya this morning,” Neteyam said conversationally as he started helping her fold the laundry.

“‘Teyam,” she interrupted, using her “mom voice” as her husband so liked to call it. Xi had gotten distracted by the article he’d chosen to fold.

“What?” he asked in faux innocence. Neteyam snatched up another one after folding it to his best and shot her a naughty wink.

Her mate always went for her undercloths first, forever eager to handle the intimate, flimsy things. She shook her head and snickered while he continued on, telling her about Awa’atlu updates.

The pair chatted about their day- him informing of the new shipment of goods they were preparing to send to the Sarentu and Ta'unui clans, and her prattling on about her early morning lesson with Mo’at and then filling him in on their son’s fascination with his shelf of weapons.

At some point Zyden had grown bored of his toy and fussily demanded his daddy’s attention. Neteyam dramatically tossed him amidst a pile of clean furs, keeping him entertained as they fought playfully.

Later on, it was a battle to get Zyden to put his tewng back on, much less keep it on, but soon after, the little family of three made their way to the communal dinner, with their baby babbling the entire way there.

As if he belonged to her, Neytiri plucked their son out of his father’s arms the second they entered the clearing. Zyden was passed around from grandparent to grandparent before he finally settled contentedly next to his aunty Tuk who fussed over him as if she were a grown up.

It was honestly quite cute seeing her break off tiny pieces of soft root vegetables and feed them to him. She offered him sips of her water which just splashed right down his chest and scolded him lightly when he ate too fast.

Neytiri, who was nearer, kept careful watch and intercepted fast grabby hands whenever Zyden went after something he wasn’t supposed to. Neteyam chuckled from his spot when his son made a dive for poor Tasam’s teylu.

The baby was most unhappy when his grandmother lifted him away with a chiding. He even gave Tuk what looked like a glare of betrayal after she giggled saying, “Zyyyyden. You don’t even have enough teeth to eat that, silly.”

Midway through their meal, D’av and her family showed up. L’eya- toddler on a mission, plopped herself into Xi’s lap to excitedly show her a bug she’d found on the way. “It- it prewdy huh, aunty Xi? An it-it glows and eberyting too. See?”

Xi oohed and awed over the bug in her niece’s palm and Neteyam did the same- pausing his conversation with Jake when she crawled into his lap as well, before eventually running off to do the same with her grandparents.

“You’re late. You hate being late,” Xi teased her sister who settled beside her. She frowned when she really looked at her sister. “Are you unwell? You’re pale. Here let me see your-”

D’avi brushed her fussing off. “Stop that. If mother catches you she’s going to come over here and I don’t need that right now. You’re forgetting Yalnïk and I have two toddlers to wrangle, can you blame me for being la- why are you looking at me like that?”

The older woman dropped all pretense when she saw her sister’s shocked expression turn into a knowing grin.

Sighing in defeat, D’avi glanced around their family huddle to make sure they weren’t being overheard by their parents.

Their mother and father thankfully, both had their hands full. Jxo was eating while balancing Zyden on his knee- the baby focused as he chewed away on a massive piece of fruit and Sal had both L’eo and L’eya who she was fawning over and feeding out of her own meal.

“You can’t tell our parents yet,” D’avi barely whispered.

“D’av.” Xi’s tail couldn’t keep its cool, it sprung high in excitement. “So you’re actually-”

“Yep… pregnant. I’m pretty sure it happened the night when Bwiin went and snitched on us.” She scoffed. “Our party was not that loud.”

Xilä remembered that night. She breastfed so she didn’t indulge in the sweetened wines that were being passed around… D’avi however had just stopped with her little ones, so she went all out, and was pretty much the life of the party. They’d gotten so rowdy, Bwiin, their mother’s nosy and grouchy friend had gone and reported them for disturbing the peace.

Xi bit her lip. “The night you got drunk at Leati’s bacholet party? And Yalnïk had to come get you?” She butchered that word for sure- every time too.

It was a surprise that Leati even wanted to take part in the odd human custom, but Xilä realized that Ze’lu brought out a side to the woman that outshined her cold and somewhat mean disposition.

“Yeah. I jumped my mate the moment he tossed my ass in bed... Ugh, and I’ve been so, so cautious, Xi and the one time, the one time I forget to have the damn tea. Bam. Pregnant.” She sighed. “Oh Eywa, truly I pray it’s not twins again.”

“Are you happy about this though? I can’t tell.”

D’avi’s eyes turned watery. “Of course I’m happy. To be honest I don’t think it’s completely registered yet, but yes. I’m so happy, Xi. And Yalnïk, ugh. The man is so damn excited. He’s already hovering and-”

“D’av! Do you want ovumshrooms?”

“Yes, please,” she answered her mate who was currently putting out their food. “He’s the best isn’t he? I mean look at his face, and his body. I’m the luckiest woman in this entire clan, aren’t I?”

Xi smiled, she felt the exact same way about her own husband.

She turned towards her son when she heard his cry of frustration. Tuk had just taken something out of his hand when he tried shoving it in his mouth. Zyden seemed to be telling her off in his baby speech, and kept reaching for it, whines turning fussier despite Tuk calmly telling him it wasn’t food.

“Zyden,” Neteyam called from beside her.

Their baby pointed at Tuk, as if begging his daddy to make her give it back to him.

Xilä knew he wouldn’t last much longer. He was tired and cranky and fighting sleep ever since he missed his afternoon nap. She watched him struggle to decide whether to cry or not. Luckily, Zyden was distracted by L’eo’s giggle, so he crawled off towards cousins.

L’eya was all smiles for the baby. She poked his nose in greeting, mouth full as she chewed her food. L’eo offered him some of the buoyfish he’d been feasting on but Sal was quick to give her youngest grandchild a piece of a mashed bean pod instead.

D’avi’s low groan pulled Xi’s attention away from their children. Her nose was wrinkled at the meat in her husband’s leaf plate.

“Sorry, sorry.” Yalnik moved his plate around so it wasn’t too close to her and struck up a conversation with Tasam and Kiri who were on his other side.

“How are you feeling this time around?” Xi asked. She handed her sister a piece of cider root to chew on.

“My morning sickness feels more like all day sickness and I’ve got this lingering headache that refuses to go away. I’ve drank every tea possible to help ebb my symptoms and they all refuse to work. Can I come by the healer tents tomorrow? So you can check me over, make sure everything’s okay? I’ve been putting off doing that.”

“Of course, D’av.”

“Eywa. Mother will be mighty pleased. Just look at her now.”

Sal was in her element. The grandmother had all three little ones surrounding her. It was impossible to miss the happiness radiating off of her.

At home, Zyden was usually clingy with Xilä and she relished in the feeling of him being attached to her, whether it was to be carried or simply wanting her attention at all times. But she wouldn’t be lying when she said she also loved seeing Sprout socialize and bond with their family- especially with his grandparents. It was something she certainly never had growing up.

Another fifteen minutes passed before it finally happened.

“Xiiii!” Tuk groaned dramatically as she hefted and carried a wiggly crying Zyden from under his arms. The baby was already reaching out and calling for her. “Sprout wants you. Oof! He’s getting so heavy,” she half laughed, half huffed when handing him over.

“Hello, my love, are you being a naughty Na'vi for your aunty Tuk?”

Zyden didn’t waste any time, he stuck his little fist right down her top and gave a frustrated grizzle.

“Thanks for taking care of him for us, Tuk.”

The little girl beamed at Xi’s praise, and giggled when Neteyam attacked her with his own brotherly affection before she dashed off.

Xilä quickly tugged down the front of her top and Zyden eagerly found and latched onto her nipple to nurse. She smiled when his small sticky hand rested on her breast as his eyes instantly began to droop.

“I’m surprised he lasted this long,” Neteyam joked. He leaned over to kiss and nuzzle Zyden’s chubby cheek as he suckled, soft feeding sounds and breathy baby gulps making him and Xi smile at each other.

L’eo appeared not too long after, food grease shining all over his face and chest. “I all done wid my food,” he told his mother proudly.

D’avi chuckled. “Good job, baby.” She pulled him closer and wiped his face and hands despite his squirming.

When he made his escape, he approached his aunty. “I play with Zyhen, pwease, addy Xi.”

“Aw, I’m sorry, sweetie, but he’s falling asleep.” Xi caressed his cheek in apology. “You’ll get to see him tomorrow, okay?”

Poor L’eo looked so disappointed. His pout deepened when he turned to find his sister amongst their family, only to find she was already dozing in her grandfather’s lap.

“C’mere bud,” Yalnïk reached out and scooped him up and D’avi turned to give them both her attention.

Xi covered herself back up when she felt her nipple slip from Zyden’s lips.

“Oh he’s out,” Neteyam laughed. He gathered their milk drunk baby in his arms and wiped away the trail of liquid that ran down his chubby cheek and into his little neck folds.

“He’s growing up too fast,” Xi sighed, leaning against her husband to peer at their son. Their baby was sprawled without a care in the world, sticky coated skin, pudgy little tummy on display, tail curled up contentedly. “I feel like I blinked and now look at him. Gosh I’m going to miss this age.”

Neteyam nodded in agreement. He kissed her forehead then whispered, “I know the feeling all too well... But you know there’s a solution for that, right?”

“What do you mean?” she murmured, perching her chin on his bicep.

“You could always let me put another baby in you. Then another when they grow out of that age, and another when-”

Xilä pressed her fingers to his lips and snickered at his response. “May I remind you we are surrounded by our family. Don’t start with that if you’re not able to do anything about it right now,” she teased back.

A dangerous glint shined in his eyes, nostrils flaring at her words.

“I’m not teasing, Xilä. I'm completely serious.”

“Oh I know. If it were up to you you’d keep me round and pregnant for an eternity, right?” She tucked a braid behind his ear, not so accidentally brushing the tip of his pointed ear with her thumb and smiled when he gave a subtle shudder.

“You’re playing with fire, baby,” he warned but she simply gave him an innocent look and pretended she didn’t know what he was talking about.

“But on a serious note,” she whispered, “is it terrible that I just want to enjoy it being the three of us for now? I’m not saying no indefinitely, after Zyden I know for sure I want more, but he’s not even a year old yet, he hasn’t even taken his first steps. I want to give him as much attention and love as I can until we decide for sure to grow our family.”

“Nothing’s wrong with that, sweetheart. I like that plan.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm.” He sensed a lingering sadness from her, so to lighten the mood, he teased, “And anyway I’ll get to focus on getting my practice in while fucking you senseless.”

“Neteyam!” Her face bloomed in mortification and she glanced around to make sure he wasn’t overheard.

There’s that smile he so loved to see.

True to her word, L’eo got to see Zyden the next day.

The boys played loudly with the many block pieces their grandfather had crafted for them. L’eya seemed to find them too rowdy for her, so she sat in her own little world with her toys until Tuk had come by and joined in with her.

Xilä loved the sound of her son’s laugh and she loved the sounds of her home filled with children playing.

Zyden squealed and clapped excitedly when L’eo knocked down their pile of wooden blocks and then the two went back to building it all over again- it was mostly L’eo, but Zyden sure helped by handing him each piece.

They were so stinking cute.

A little later on when he seemed to have grown bored, her son sought her out. He crawled after her and patted her calf, tiny palms opening and closing- asking for up.

The second she lifted him, he cuddled her, little face snuggled into her neck and Xi soaked it all up. It was her favourite feeling in the universe.

Neteyam looked up from his whittling and was quick to join the two. He tried burying his face on the other side of her neck, but Zyden wasn’t having it.

Their son pushed his daddy’s face away along with a mess of protesting gibberish that had sounds like mama and dada scattered in between.

“I want cuddles too, you can’t have her to yourself,” Neteyam quarrelled with the biggest grin on his face.

“Ma-ma!” Zyden argued back fiercely. He leaned his head against hers- their cheeks squished together while he kept batting away his father’s affections for her.

“Ah,” Neteyam dodged another fist. “I’ll have you know she was mine first.”

“Ma-ma!” Zyden’s both arms locked around her neck. He gave her a wet sloppy kiss on the cheek and grinned wide, and those four little teeth just about killed her.

“Alright, alright. I’m jealous now. Come here, little man, I’ve got a bone to pick with you.” Neteyam stole him away and dramatically rolled them around on the floor. The baby shrieked and burst into breathy giggles as they play-fought.

Feeling like he was missing out on the fun, L’eo ran and jumped in with a roar. “I rescue you Zyhen!” To which Neteyam pulled him in too.

Xilä watched on and called out “oh no’s!” from the sidelines. Through her laughs she couldn’t help feel a bit emotional. Neteyam was an incredible mate, but he was an even better father.

When he cried out asking for her to come save him, she eagerly and happily joined in until they were all a pile of giggling limbs.

Pillow muffling her screams, Xilä arched as her mate licked her into another mind shattering orgasm.

It was the middle of the night and she’d already woken on the cusp of one, finding her legs thrown over his broad shoulders with his head bobbing eagerly between her thighs, licking and sucking like a starved man… and he hadn’t moved since.

“‘Teyam.” Shuddering as she came down from another high, she feebly tried to push his head away, hips failing to escape his clutches. She was too sensitive and he didn’t seem like he wanted to stop any time soon.

Yet he only tightened his grips and spread her legs wider, holding her firm with a bossy growl. “One more.”

One more. One more. That’s what he’d said the last two times.

Her voice hitched when he nipped then sucked her clit hard, silencing her protests. He stretched her with his fingers, adding one after the other until she was stuffed with all three- digits curling and fucking her just right.

White noise clouded her ears and her eyes rolled into her head. Body seizing up as it quickly prepared to shatter again, she struggled to keep her moans at bay. Her poor knuckles were painfully white from their tight grips- one fisted in her mate’s hair, holding on for dear life while the other squeezed the pillow she was biting into.

She could just about cry when Neteyam slowed his pace. The wicked man wanted to draw out her pleasure and no matter how much she tried to ride his fingers faster, she failed.

He pushed her hand away when she dared to reach for her throbbing clit. Eywa. She was near delusional at this point.

“Mine,” he’d snapped when she tried to touch again, and then as if teaching her a lesson, he simply reduced his actions even further, fingers curling deep and dragging torturously slow while he lazily lavished her clit with his tongue.

Turned into a mewling weepy mess, she was completely at his mercy. It seemed almost never ending.

Embarrassingly loud slick sounds emitted with every motion of his fingers making her arousal drench everything- his hand, face, her thighs, their sheets- shit, she’d just changed these sheets.

Xilä’s orgasm blindsided her, making her cry out and damn near suffocate her husband with her thighs as her entire body seized up.

She was almost sure she’d momentarily blacked out too, because when she finally came to her senses, her deep, heavy panting had calmed and the strong ripples of pleasure and orgasmic aftershocks had ebbed away, leaving her with lingering tingles.

Neteyam, as if he had all the time in the world, was sucking his fingers dry. It shouldn’t have been a sexy sight, but damn if it was.

Damn him.

Then the asshole dived back down to lick her clean.

WACK.

“Baby!” His jaw dropped and he was staring at her in surprise.

Xi had actually smacked him with her pillow when he had the audacity to run his tongue across her oversensitive clit. He got the message this time. He snickered and just moved along to lick away the slick that coated her inner thighs instead.

Through their bond, tsaheylu still intact from when they went to sleep, she felt him. Like a rolling storm, he was all consuming. He was so pent up and clouded her with his intensity, she wouldn’t be surprised if he combusted just then and there. It felt good to be the cause of it, honestly.

“You didn’t come?” Shit. She’d tried to move but her legs felt like flopping fish.

He shook his head and got up on his knees. She was greeted by an angry leaking dick, throbbing and needy in front her face.

Xilä licked her lips, and between her thighs pulsed at the sight of him. Sitting up, she watched him wrap a hand around himself and give a firm stroke, thumb swiping across his tip before dragging back down again.

Although she was still a bit light headed, just like he’d done earlier, she batted his hand away to grip him herself.

At this he let out a pleased little groan and threaded his fingers through her hair. His hips gave a sudden snap and his dick twitched when she pressed a teasing kiss to the head of it- barely even making contact.

Xilä smirked when she felt his fingers tighten in her hair, pulling slightly at her roots. “Xilä,” he growled, sending a rippling shiver down her spine.

“What?” she asked cunningly, “No teasing?”

Through their bond she felt his building frustration, his impatience, his need. Tail circling her wrist, he got her moving.

So bossy.

She stroked his length and found her pace, setting a rhythm that had her mate quickly blowing out puffs of air as he seemed to be trying to keep his composure.

Cute, she thought. With her free hand she stroked his tail- its tip still wrapped around her wrist, both hands moving in tandem.

“Xi-”

Reading his mind, her eyes found his own, locked and dangerous and just what he needed to get closer to his peak.

He was practically fucking her fist by now, and damn near exploded when her other hand left his tail to squeeze the base of his dick.

Xi licked him again, tongue running up the underside of him, along a vein, then circling its head. That was it, he couldn’t control himself any longer, he came with a blinding force- a strangled endearment, falling from his lips.

Hot seed spluttered from him, painting his stomach, Xi’s hand and her pouty lips, a drop even landed on her nose.

A feeling of victory flooded Xilä. She loved seeing her mate come undone, loved seeing him lose control. A side of him she was the only one to ever see.

She stroked him all the way through, till his shudders ceased and his body grew lax and so pliant she was able to pull him down, his massive frame covering her entirely.

Their lips met in the middle for a searing, all consuming kiss. Xi could taste herself on his lips, she was sure it was the same for him.

Breaking apart for a much needed breath of air, Neteyam nipped her bottom lip. “Sorry I woke you up.”

Xilä laughed. “No you’re not.”

He grinned too. “No I'm not.”

After they basked in the afterglow for another couple minutes, they cleaned themselves up, using water and washcloths to bathe each other, mouths unable to stop stealing kisses and hands unable to stop caressing.

Returning from checking on their son, he helped her strip their hammock and fasten a clean pelt before they both climbed in- him pulling her on top of his chest immediately.

“Sprout was still asleep?” she asked, breaking him from his thoughts.

“Mhmm, out like a light.” He kissed her forehead and she snuggled closer.

Somewhere between sleep and wake, Xi heard a hushed whisper.

“Mama?”

She felt a familiar weight sat on top of her and the gentle pat, pat of a little palm on her cheek.

“Mama. Mama! Mommy wake up, I have to tell you something really portent.”

“Mmm, I’m up, I’m up.” Xilä blinked awake to the view of her son’s sweet face. Exhaustion momentarily forgotten, she pulled him into her arms and across her chest, peppering kisses all over his cheeks. “Good morning, my love.”

Zyden struggled a bit under his mother’s smothering, trying to wiggle out. “Mama stop,” he giggled. “Guess what?” His voice was dramatically hushed despite it only being the two of them in the room.

“What?” she asked just as quietly to match his energy.

“Daddy say I can go fishing today!” Zyden shared, tail flicking in uncontrollable excitement behind him. As if reminding himself, he made a shhhh sound and pressed a finger to his lips before continuing softer. “And- and I get to use my new bow too. You know the one mama? The big boy one granpather Jxo make me? An- an L’eo and L’eya go too but no Js’avi, cause he-he too small still and then daddy show me how to catch the fish!”

Xilä gasped dramatically as if she didn’t already know all of this. “Oh my Eywa! That’s all so exciting, my love!”

“Yah! I- I catch you a really big fish, mama. Den you cook it.”

“I like that idea. What kind of fish should I make?” She smiled tiredly and smoothed her hand over his hair. He looked so much like his daddy.

“Zyden!” Neteyam walked into their room, hands on his hips with a disappointed expression. “I thought I told you we’d tell your mama later. She just fell asleep, son.”

Zyden jumped at being caught, his sweet excited face turning into one of guilt. Brow puckered into a tiny frown, he pointed at his mother, then said as if it made all the sense in the world, “But mama awake now daddy. So I tell her now. Later is too far.”

Both parents couldn’t hold their amusement.

This kid.

“Alright little man, come on.” Neteyam grabbed him up and hung him upside down. Tickling his tummy, he made their son break out in a fit of uncontrollable giggles.

“Da-ha-ddyy!”

When he set him on his feet, his father said seriously, “Go on and have your breakfast. All fishermen need to have a good meal before they set off for the day.”

“Ohhhkaaay! Bye mama!”

Neteyam blew out a breath and made his way over to Xi. “Sorry. I swear I only turned my back away for a second and then he disappeared.”

“It’s fine,” she assured, stretching her neck and puckering her lips, begging for a kiss as if he hadn’t kissed her only three hours ago when she’d gotten home.

Her husband obliged and when he pulled back he said, “We missed you last night.”

“Me too. I'll try not to make it a habit, but I was really needed for the night shift. I’m sorry it was so last minute too.”

“Stop,” he ordered, nipping her lip in rebuke.

“But it was date night… We made a promise to never miss a date night. I feel terrible. I promise I’ll make it up to you and-” She was about to apologize again so he silenced her with another kiss.

“Xilä. It’s your job, baby. You were needed. It's okay. And anyway, Sprout and I had an awesome guys night.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” His voice drew to a deep whisper, “Although if you keep insisting on making it up to me, I’d really really like to fuck you later. It’s been ages.”

Xi’s snicker was interrupted by a yawn. “You’re being dramatic. Oh that does remind me though, I need to get more Qla’ira root. I’m running out.”

Neteyam got quiet. He perched his head on her chest, golden eyes almost pleading. “Or you could… not?”

“Behave.” She batted him playfully and ran her fingers through his braids.

“I’m being serious. You know Zyden’s been asking for a sibling lately.”

“I know, but we agreed when he turned five, to start trying again, remember?”

“Technically, it’d be the same thing… If we get a head start from now, he’ll probably be five by the time-”

“Zyden will be four in a couple months,” she laughed, cupping his face.

They heard a crash, followed by a, “Daaaddy! I had a naccident!”

“Duty calls.” Neteyam lifted and hovered over her. “Get some sleep, alright? We’ll see you later. And we’re definitely not done talking about this.”

“Daaadeeeee!”

“Coming!”

Xi frowned, when he left. She didn’t know why she was even fighting this decision. She herself was ready for another child- and not just because of her mate’s pleas or their son’s little saddened face when he asked them how come he, “didn’t have a baby like L’eo and L’eya had Js’avi.”

Eywa had told her as much that she was ready as well. Her bond with the Great Mother had been growing stronger and stronger everyday.

So what was stopping her?

Later that night, during a family dinner, the kids excitedly ranted about everything that happened that day- all talking over each other and fighting over the attention of the adults.

It was a full family night. Neteyam and Xi’s home was not only filled with Jake and his family or Jxo and Sal. There was D’av, Yalnik and their three little ones. Also Yalnik’s twin and his mate along with their brood of five kids- who had also gone fishing.

Xilä saluted the men for having to take on so many of them. She wished she got to see them at it, since apparently they’d roped along Tasam and Ze’lu to get in some practice.

Speaking of, Tasam and Kiri had even joined their rowdy bunch tonight- newly mated after their courtship. Their story was incredibly sweet. They’d gone the traditional route and followed through the steps of the Omatikaya’s customs.

Their love was blinding and Xi was so happy for them. Although it had been years now, she still noticed the one or two times poor Spider would shoot them concealed glances. She was rooting for her friend to find his happiness too.

“An den I shot my bow like,” Sprout made a dramatic reenactment, “an VOOSH! My arrow went so far into the water, and- and-”

“And the same time I shot mine too!” L’eo chimed in. “And it hit a fish!”

“Oh my! You caught one, L’eo?” Sal asked, intrigued by their story.

“No,” the boy said sadly. “The fish swam away. L’eya got one though.”

The little girl blushed when the room broke out into cheers for her.

Xilä loved nights like these. Their family dinners were always a boisterous affair. She felt entirely whole- as if she belonged. A feeling she fought to find for years.

She watched her son seated in the cradle of his dad’s legs. They were both talking animatedly with Mo’at whose aged face was nothing but smiles.

Something within Xi suddenly clicked. That uncertain emotion that had been plaguing her now had an answer and a flare of guilt followed the revelation.

Stephan had taught her an expression once, “Waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

It made sense now why she herself kept putting off having another baby, because that’s what she’d been doing, wasn’t she?

Waiting for the other shoe to drop?

Waiting for things to go wrong, waiting to be told she no longer belonged. Waiting to see if she and her son would be casted out.

A weight lifted off her shoulders now that she knew what was holding her back. Stupid thoughts that would bear no fruits.

She had her whole life ahead of her. One filled with the joy and love of her and her mate, and of their children. Xi stared at her son, her son. Of course she’d wanted more of him, she Neteyam truly made ridiculously cute babies.

Before she shook off her thoughts and returned to the present, she gave herself a mini metal pep talk- the reassurance that always seemed to help the times her mind clouded in darkness.

She was here.

She was safe.

She was loved.

And she had found, her Safe Haven.

Once again, my deepest thanks goes out to all of you who have taken this journey with me, to all of you who have read, and liked and commented.

Special thanks to all who gave suggestions and ideas. I love interacting and hearing your thoughts!

I poured my heart and soul into this story and the unbelievable feedback I've gotten- there's no greater gift.

Although there is one more part I'd like to put out- "a slice of life" to specify, I am officially marking this story as Complete!

Here's to more stories in the future ahead. 💛

Tags:@jakesullyfatjuicypeen@granddearduck@riatesullironalite@strawberri-blonde@earthling55 @innercreationflower @duckworthbean @gyuventure @btsiguess-kpop@blkmystery@neteswife@luvteyams@isnt-itstrange@erenjaegerwifee@faatxma@ivysully@bakugouswaif@pinkpantheris @mntx666@ironcaptainnataliabarnes

#neteyam #neteyam x oc #neteyam avatar #neteyam fic #neteyam x reader #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam sully

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daydreams-after-dark · 23 days

Text

Billionaire Lee Minho and his Pretty Little Plaything

You're at billionaire Lee Minho's extravagant party at some fancy historical manor, where unbeknownst to you he want to make you his "Plaything".

Before you know what's happening you find yourself in a room with Minho, Changbin and Hyunjin. Minho has plans for you but he doesn't know you can play games too.

Pairing: Lee Know x fem reader, Changbin x fem reader, Hyunjin x fem reader.

Word count: 8k approx

a/n: This story was originally posted on my main blog @moonlightndaydreams called "Minho meets his match".

WARNINGS: NSFW // contains depictions of explicit sexual content // some m x m stuff // unsafe vagina sex // vaginal fingering // explicit language // oral sex female // oral sex male // nudity // sex in front of others // mild blood kink // choking // anal fingering // attempted anal sex // plaything kink // ejaculation // female ejaculation // cum eating

You felt the dark rappers eyes watching you as soon as you stepped into party, making the hairs on your neck stand on end.

He was weighing you up, you could tell, making you feel self conscious and short of breath. Trying to compose your racing heart, you smoothed down the satin fabric of your long slinky black dress (the one with the thigh high split) as you made your way to the make shift bar across the room, hoping he’d lose interest in you.

But his stare bored into your back, burning into your skin and through your flesh melting your insides.

“A sparkling wine please.” You said to the bar tender, and he passed you your glass of alcohol.

You hadn’t intended to come to the party but your boss said it would be a good idea to make an appearance and so here you were, begrudgingly. You preferred a quiet night with your stories.

You sipped your drink and took in your surroundings. The party was being hosted by billionaire Lee Minho, one of the most eligible bachelors of the moment. The man had an impeccable reputation as a respectable gentleman. You hadn’t ever heard a negative or scandalous thing about him. Not even a whisper. “Hmmm” you scoffed, either he was incredibly boring or incredibly careful.

But, he was intriguing, you thought to yourself. Look at this place. Who would host a glamorous party in an historical Manor instead of the newest and flashiest club? You cast your eyes around the room. The place was pulsing with people and the music was pounding through the sound system that had been set up.

The manor felt more like a castle, and you loved the stone pillars and architecture. You admired the grand staircase that made it’s way up the second floor, to what you could only assume were offices or accommodation. You didn’t really know what was up there, and you didn’t get a chance to wonder either because when you dropped your eyes from the upper level you locked eyes on the dark rapper leaning against the wall next to the staircase.

Changbin was his name, and he was a popular music artist. A well known rapper and producer. He was also Lee Minho’s right hand man. Or security guard. You weren’t quite sure what his relationship with Lee Minho entailed, but he was never far away.

You didn’t realise you were biting your lower lip as you watched him watch you, his arms were crossed over his broad, chest and he had one booted foot resting against the wall behind. He opened his pouty mouth slightly and you felt your cheeks reddening as he unashamedly looked you up and down.

Your melted insides now felt like they were pooling in your vagina and moistening your panties. You shouldn’t be turned on but you were. You clenched your vagina walls and you felt an ache to be filled and stretched. How dare he stare at you like this? How dare he make you feel this way?

You downed the remainder of your beverage and slammed the empty glass on a nearby table before you boldly walked towards him. He didn’t budge. He didn’t even look away. He just kept his eyes locked on you as though your were the tastiest thing he’d ever seen. You didn’t take your eyes off him either and you found it thrilling to be challenging him like this.

You had almost reached him, but at the last second you turned to your left and went up the stairs.

You didn’t even know where you were heading, but there was no way you were going to give Changbin the satisfaction of you approaching him. He would have thought that his dark stare had somehow cast a spell on you and that you needed to be his, and that you’d fall straight into his trap… or lap. But you didn’t like giving in to people that easily. You were agitated that your body was betraying your thoughts and challenging your willpower. That’s why you went upstairs. To get away from the situation, and you hoped he wouldn’t follow you. Well your brain was hoping that he wouldn’t follow you… what your body was hoping for you weren’t so sure.

The landing presented you with two options - a dark, narrow hallway to the left, or a long, somewhat lit hallway directly in front of you. You decided to go with the second option. The hallway was wide with many doors along both sides, and a large window at the end. There were wall lamps between each of the doors lighting the way.

You suddenly felt a surge of panic when you realised that if Changbin had followed you then where would you hide? What if all of the doors were locked? You felt trapped as your heart rate increased and your hairs stood on end (again). You were about to look over your shoulder to see if he had followed you, but before you could even turn your head a hand grabbed your arm and pushed you back hard against the wall. You let out a squeal and your eyes widened as Changbin stood close to you, trapping you with his arms resting on either of side of your head.

“This…” he whispered “is an out of bounds area. You shouldn’t be up here.” His voice was cold and stern and his eyes were dark and challenging.

“I was just looking for the bathroom.” You said defiantly. Who could argue with the call of nature, right?

Changbin clicked his tongue as it to say that’s the oldest excuse in the book.

He stepped even closer to you, his body pressed against yours making you feel weak in the knees. You could feel his length hardening in his trousers and your molten insides were really seeping out of you now. You weren’t about to let on that he was affecting you this way.

He released his right hand from the wall and his fingers ghosted your cheek, your neck, the side of you breast and stomach, but he didn’t touch you until he placed it on your left hip. Your breath hitched and got caught in your throat, but you stared, no, glared at him trying to gain some sort of control or power over the situation. But he simply dug his teeth into his lip and dropped his gaze to your lips and then further to the top of your cleavage.

The hand he still had pressed against the wall softly landed on the spaghetti strap of your dress, slipping his finger underneath. But he didn’t slide it off your shoulder. He seemed to be contemplating what he wanted to do. What he could do. He knew all it would take was to slip the flimsy strap down your arm and you’d be exposed to him. He let out a long exhale.

Then his eyes snapped back up to yours as he snapped out of his thoughts.

“Anyway, I guess it doesn’t really matter that you’re up here. Mister Lee has asked me to collect you. He’s requested your presence.”

He’s what? Why would Lee Minho want to see you? How does he even know who you are?

Your intuition kicked into gear. Something didn’t seem right. There was absolutely no reason for him to need to see you. What could he possibly want with you? Minho seemed far too squeaky clean on the outside to really be squeaky clean, and that made you suspicious.

You felt the urge to get out of there. Fast.

Adrenaline kicked in and you kicked Changbin in the leg as hard as you could, startling him and making him step back. Now was your chance, but he was blocking your way back towards the stairs.

That left you having to run up the hallway, testing doors. Most of them were locked. What were you going to do?

Chanbgin quickly recovered and was slowly closing in on you. But he didn’t seem rushed or panicked. It was like in those horror movies where the victim would be running away from the serial killer who would simply walk calmly in pursuit, and then eventually... you didn't want to think about that.

In your frantic attempt to get away, you managed to find an unlocked door. Thank Fuck. You felt a wave of relief as you stepped inside and closed the door, locking it from the inside. You leaned your head against the door panting. You were safe for now.

Once you caught your breath and calmed your racing heart, you turned around to see where you were. That’s when you saw him. Lee Minho sitting on a brown leather couch, arms outstretched along he backrest, and in his lap was a man’s head, sucking his cock.

“Look Hyunjin, my plaything has arrived.” He said amused as he smirked and gave you the deadliest glare you’d ever seen.

———

You stood fixed to the spot. What the actual fuck was happening?

Hyunjin lifted his head and looked up at you. You didn’t know where to look, your eyes darting between Hyunjin’s puffy, slobbery lips, and Minho’s throbbing, angry cock before snapping back up to meet Minho’s deadly stare.

“Do you like what you see, pretty lady?” He sneered.

This was messed up. You had to get the fuck out of there. You spun around and went for the door, hoping to God that Changbin had given up on you and gone back downstairs. But as you opened the door ready to bolt you ran smack bang into a hard chest. Changbin.

He’d been standing outside the door and now he was edging you back into the room.

You didn’t dare let the three men see your fear that was coursing through you, or that other feeling that you were ignoring, as you were backed towards the edge of an unoccupied couch.

“Sit.” Changbin instructed and gently pushed you into the chair and then he proceeded to sit in the armchair opposite you, crossing his arms and staring you down.

You look to the two men on the couch on your right. Hyunjin had now sat up and was sitting with his legs crossed, leaning on his hand and watching you curiously. He had his tongue poked out between his plump, red lips and strands of black hair had escaped his pointy tail, making him look disheveled.

The way he looked at you made you feel like you were the most interesting and unique creature he’d ever laid eyes on, while at the same time that’s how you were looking at him too.

Fuck, he was stunning, you thought. He was wearing a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and he’d paired it with black dress pants. Designer for sure.

If Changbin’s eyes bored through your skin and melted your insides, then Hyunjin’s eyes set you on fire.

You folded your arms across your chest, fully aware that it pushed your cleavage up, and crossed one leg over the other, the split in your dress exposing almost the entire length of your leg. You might be scared, but you certainly weren't shy.

Although you were directing a death stare Minho, you registered in your peripheral Changbin stiffen and grip the chair arms, and Hyunjin slinked down like a feline onto his side to lean on couch arm to continue watching you.

Minho just stared right back at you. His eyes were dark, like Changbin’s, but there was something else there. There was a sinisterness, a glimmer of evil behind his eyes, like this was a game.

But you were good at playing games too.

Minho was about to meet his match.

---------------------------

“Okay. Look. This…” you gesture around the room “is well and truly fucked up. I don’t know who you are, or what you want. And what do you mean by ‘plaything’ anyway? And what makes you think that I’m it? You don’t fucking know me!” you ranted, not pausing, not giving them a chance to interject. You were absolutely fuming mad. "Who the fuck are you people?"

Hyunjin silently laughed to himself, and Changbin didn’t budge. Minho smirked, one corner of his mouth curling up.

“Are you quite finished?” he sounded amused as you continued to glare at him.

“Of course you know who we are,” he scoffed. “And we know who you are.” You swallowed hard.

“And… by ‘plaything’” the smirk and amusement leaving his face and replaced with a cold expression. “I mean I am going to fuck you however I like, as many times as I like, and… as hard as I like. And when you beg me to stop… I’ll just keep going…and when I do stop, well” he paused for a moment then whispered “you’ll want me to do it again.”

Your mouth hung open in disbelief as you let his words sink in. What a presumptuous asshole! How dare he be so fucking cocky. How dare he think he can request your presence and then do whatever the fuck he wants with you?

“But,” Minho’s calculating voice broke your frantic thoughts. “I’m not going to fuck you until you beg for it.”

You couldn’t help yourself but burst out laughing. What the actual fuck?

“So,” you tried to control your condescending laugh “you’re not going to do anything until I beg you?” you shook your head. Wow. “Don’t you think that’s a bit, I don’t know, up yourself?” you raised an eyebrow and looked him up and down. He was actually very attractive, but there would be no way in hell that you would ever beg him to have sex with you. Out of principle. But you were intrigued, and you were curious to see how this would unfold.

Minho said nothing, but his equally condescending stare told you he that he thought he knew better.

His eyes silently challenged you. “You can try to fight this all you like, but you will beg me to fuck you. That, I can promise.” He said, whispering the last part. It sent chills down your spine. You glared at him for what felt like a whole minute.

“Not if you beg me for it first.” You said coldly. Minho looked taken aback. He wasn’t expecting you to challenge him like this. He might’ve expected you to simply leave, but actually dare to suggest that he’d be the one doing the begging? Well this sounded interesting to him and you could see it in his facial expression.

He nodded his head “Okay, I get it, your a feisty one. I should’ve expected that. But I think you will be sorely disappointed.”

“Yes, well we’ll see won’t we?” you responded.

Hyunjin looked thrilled with what was unfolding as he looked wide-eyed between the you and Minho. Changbin just continued to sit silently like a stoic statue.

Now you needed to think of a way to get Minho to beg you to let him fuck you. Just that thought alone jolted you into the realisation that what if he did beg? Would you really want that? Would you really let him do that to you?

You studied Minho while you contemplated what to do. Physically he looked fucking sexy, his face was pleasant when he didn’t have a sinister expression (which by the way the sinister expression did do things to you that you didn’t dare want to admit). His body seemed toned and fit, although it was hiding under a dinner suit. Then there was his cock, which had been put back in his trousers. You could tell from that quick glimpse earlier it was impressive, and you were certain he knew how to use it well.

But his arrogance and self assuredness really pissed you off and fired you up. It ignited your competitive side. You liked to win, and you fucking hated to lose.

So yes, you would let him fuck you if he begged you.

And with that you made your first move.

“Hyunjin,” you said softly. His eyes darted to yours curiously. “Come sit on the floor in front of me.” You ushered him down to the floor, and like a slinky panther he slid to the floor and sat at your feet.

“You’re really pretty close up.” He giggled.

“You think?” you smiled back at him. Hyunjin’s eyes followed your exposed leg from the ankle all the way up to the top of your thigh and he licked his lips.

“Do you like what you see?” you taunted. Hyunjin nodded “Hmmm…yes.” He whispered.

“You can touch me if you want, Hyunjin.” And you snapped your eyes up to Minho who shrugged and made a face like he didn’t care.

Hyunjin brought a finger to your ankle and traced a long, delicate finger slowly up your shin, over your knee and along the top of your thigh. It sent a shiver through you and you could feel yourself burning up.

“I know you like sucking cock, Hyunjin, but… do you like eating pussy too?” Hyunjin’s head snapped up and he nodded excitedly. “I fucking love eating pussy.”

You leaned in close to Hyunjin’s ear and whispered “Do you want to be a brat to Minho and eat my pussy?”

You leaned back on the sofa and Hyunjin slid your dress up to spread your knees wide. He let out a wobbly exhale and his tongue hung out of the corner of his mouth. And for a long moment he just admired you, gazing between your legs before sliding your underwear off. You looked at Minho and you caught him swallowing hard.

From where Changbin sat across the room he had a full view of your pussy and you could see it was having an affect on him. His mouth had parted again and his eyes had that same hungry look that he had when he watched you earlier downstairs.

Hyunjin dove between your legs and it took you by surprise, making you squeal. Minho laughed from the side.

Hyunjin knew what he was doing, building you up to three long, slender fingers in no time at all. His wicked tongue doing obscene things to your lips and clit. His fingers expertly pressed into your g-spot and it made you come undone within 5 minutes, shaking and clenching around his mouth and fingers.

Once you came down from your high, you pushed Hyunjin away and instructed him to lay on the shag rug in front of the couches. You knelt between his legs to undo his trousers and released his long cock. How the fuck were you going to suck him off? He was simply too long! You quickly worked out that the best way to tackle this was to straddle Hyunjin’s chest, that way his cock would enter your mouth at a much better angle to take him in your throat.

But you still couldn’t get him all in. But boy did you try. You fought back the urge to gag, tears ran down your face, saliva dribbled out the corners of your mouth and down his length. You used your hand to take care of what you couldn’t take with your mouth, and you found a steady rhythm that seemed to be driving Hyunjin wild.

You felt his hands land on your ass and then slide your dress up over your hips so he could get another good look at you before pulling you back to sit on his face. His tongue dove into your pussy and his perfect lips sucked on your clit again. He lifted you off his face slightly so he could run his thumb along your folds, slicking it up, and pushing it into your second entrance while pulling you back down onto his face. You groaned at the burning stretch and rolled your hips, grinding and sliding your wetness all over his face.

Hyunjin was losing control under you, grunting and bucking his hips up into your face as he painted your throat in cum, making you literally choke on his cock and semen.

You were so close to orgasm but you had other ideas and you lifted yourself up off of Hyunjin.

“Naww… but I haven’t felt that pussy around my cock yet.” He whined as he laid spent on the floor.

“Patience, Hyunjin.” you reassured him.

You stole a glance up at Minho. His eyes were nearly black with rage as he scowled at you disapprovingly.

So he didn’t like what you were doing? Good.

You set your sights on Changbin next. You crawled towards him and he parted his legs so you could kneel in between them. With hooded eyes you looked up at him. His eyes were cloudy with lust, and his fucking pouty lips were driving you crazy. And he was hard, so fucking hard in his trousers. You reached for his belt. You wanted to relief him of his erection, but he grabbed your wrist and shook his head.

“I don’t want your slutty mouth around my cock until you’ve kissed me.” He said gruffly, and pulled you up to straddle his lap.

Wow that sentence started off so dirty and ended so… sweet, you thought and you leaned in to gently kiss his mouth. He tasted like whiskey and toothpaste, and it didn’t take long before you were devouring his mouth and sinking your tongue in to connect with his. You lifted your dress out of the way so that your bare pussy rubbed against his trousers, the friction feeling delicious. His hands roamed your back, caressed your ass, guiding you as you ground against his hardness.

You were shaking with desire and you were dying to come again “I need you inside me, Changbin.” You panted. You shifted back so you could access his fly and hastily released his cock, and slid yourself down over his shaft.

Changbin grunted and he looked like he was in pain as you rode him slowly.

“Fucking hell you feel so good.” He grunted and he buried his face in your neck.

Changbin definitely had some girth to him and you mewled at how stretched open he made you feel. He reached up to your spaghetti strap and this time he tucked a finger underneath the flimsy string and tugged it off your shoulder. He repeated the action for the other strap and allowed the top of your dress to slip down to reveal your breasts.

Changbin’s mouth latched onto a nipple, nibbling and flicking it with his tongue. His other hand giving your other breast a meaty squeeze.

“Turn her around, Changbin.” Hyunjin suggested. “Let Minho see her face while she’s being fucked.”

With one last growl and a bite of your nipple, Changbin easily lifted you off his cock so you could turn around.

With one foot on placed on the seat either side of his thighs, you lowered yourself back down onto his dick and leaned back against his chest.

“Take off her dress.” Hyunjin prompted.

Minho remained silent, but never looked away.

Changbin lifted your dress over your head and tossed it to the side. Now you were fully naked and completely exposed. You felt a rush of adrenaline as Hyunjin watched you with fascination. Changbin’s hands roamed your naked form, before landing back on your breasts. He seemed to love your tits. And you loved the way his hands felt as he fondled them.

You leaned your head right back against Changbin’s shoulder, offering him your neck. He took it willingly, sucking your pulse.

You felt Hyunjin’s hands under your thighs, lifting your legs up so that your knees were pushed against your chest. You had no control of the thrusting now, and you were at the mercy of the two men.

Hyunjin would slide you halfway up Changbin’s cock and Changbin would roll his hips up into you completely, then he’d roll back out. Then Hyunjin would slide you up part way and drop you back down full force onto the rapper’s cock. Sometimes they’d work together where Hyunjin would lift you up almost the whole way off Changbin and then forcefully ram you back down at the same time Changbin would snap his hips up. It made you cry out in pleasure.

Then Hyunjin found your clit with his tongue and that was truly more than you could bare. With one hand around Chsngbin’s neck, the other in Hyunjin’s hair, your gaze drifted to Minho. His mouth was hung open and his eyes now had a different look to them. You couldn’t quite pick what it was about them, but the way he looked a you sent you hurtling towards orgasm.

It sent Changbin over the edge too, and you felt his cum spurt up into you as he screamed out an animalistic growl.

As you came down, you realised how truly exhausted you were, and it took you a while to stop shaking.

Hyunjin wasted absolutely no time pulling you off Changbin. He was hard again and he was dying to fuck you.

He laid you down on the carpet and you felt Changbin’s cum seeping out of you onto the rug. You hoped no one would notice.

“Let me fuck that back into you.” Hyunjin whispered deviously. The man was beautiful, but fuck he was bratty too.

He hovered above you and gazed at you momentarily, then he dove into your neck at the same time he drove his cock into you. You winced as he hit your cervix, but it didn’t seem to bother him, and he kept trying to inch as much of himself into as he could with every thrust. He was immersed in his own world, as he smashed into you, and as much as it wasn’t comfortable, you were still willing to take it.

Just when you thought tears were going to spring from your eyes, Hyunjin flipped onto his back, taking you along with him so your were on top. This new position allowed you to control the depth of Hyunjin, offering your cervix some respite. Before you had time to register it, you felt Changbin at your side offering you his cock. You took it in your mouth, and enthusiastically worked it like your life depended on it.

“Fuck that’s hot” Hyunjin sighed underneath you as he watched you sucking Changbin off.

“Changbin, come fuck her with me…help me tear up her insides.”

Your eyes widened in fear and you knew that Minho and Changbin saw your reaction. You accidentally bit down on Changbin’s dick, and he pulled out with a yelp.

“S-sorry.” You whispered desperately to him.

“Come on Binnie, I’m not going to last long.” Hyunjin whined.

Changbin looked like he’d seen a ghost. “No… I can’t,” he shook his head. “I..I don’t want to.” And with that he abruptly did up his trousers and hastily left the room.

“Well I wanna fuck your ass even if he doesn’t.” Hyunjin announced, not in the slightest bit fazed that his friend just stormed off. He lifted you off his cock and pushed you down onto your stomach and rubbed the head of his cock through your lips to line himself up with your back entrance.

But before he had a chance to penetrate you, he was suddenly thrown off you.

“Get the fuck out of here!” Minho roared. Hyunjin looked up at him bewildered. Minho glared furiously at Hyunjin. “I said get the fuck out of here. NOW!” and he dragged him by the collar and thew him out the door.

Minho turned back to you, and you saw an expression you hadn’t seen before. It was concern.

You felt like such a fool, and so fucking pathetic sitting there naked on the rug with cum still leaking out of you.

You didn’t want to look at Minho. He went to the corner of the room and returned with a throw blanket and wrapped it around your naked body.

“I think you’ve done more than enough, don’t you?” he said sternly. He lifted you up and carried you to the couch and sat you beside him.

He reached to the table next to couch and poured a glass of water. “Here.” He said pointing the glass at you. You took it begrudgingly and drank it down in one gulp. You were absolutely parched.

“Look, I just want to check…” he started, but you looked away. Minho took your chin in his hand and turned it back forcing you to look directly at him. “I want to know you’re okay.” His eyes searched yours, looking for any indication that you were hurt.

The walls you had up when you entered this room suddenly felt like they were going to crumble. You sucked in your bottom lip, squeezed your eyes closed and nodded. “Yeah. I’m okay.” Your voice was so small.

Minho stroked your cheek, moving some loose strands of hair off your face. There wasn’t a hint of malice in his expression now.

“That’s better.” He said as he pushed the last strands of hair behind your ear.

His touch felt tender, as he tightened the blanket more snugly around you.

His eyes were warm as they drank in your lips.

You hated it. You wanted to scream at him. How dare he suddenly be so… so kind?

Then you kissed him.

---------------------

You pulled away abruptly, shocked at yourself.

Minho held your gaze with soft eyes but you could tell his mind was at work.

Then he reached around the back of your head and leaned in to kiss you. His kiss was a mix of urgency and care and you melted into it fast. His tongue dipped delicately into your mouth to catch yours. The man knew how to kiss, and the way it made you feel you knew you didn’t have much hope of resisting him.

It set you on fire, and without thinking you climbed onto his lap and straddled him, not breaking contact with his mouth even for a moment. The blanket slipped off you as one hand cupped his face and other one grabbed him greedily around the back of his neck. Minho’s hands were all over you, frantically trying to be everywhere at once. Everywhere except where you desperately wanted him to be. You unbuttoned his shirt, practically ripping it from his body, and explored his chest with your hands. You tried to grind on his crotch and you could feel he was aroused. He was so hard in his trousers, you thought it would somehow unzip his pants and spring free by itself.

“Minho,” you sounded so desperate and you hated it.

He leaned back and took a good look at your naked body then tilted his head up to meet your eyes. He brushed your jawline with his thumb.

He knew what you wanted. You knew your eyes were begging him to touch you.

“Say it for me, beautiful.” He said with a strained voice and dark, hungry eyes. The need in his voice took you by surprise. He gripped your hips and ground his crotch against you. “I can’t do it unless you beg, remember?” he panted. He was basically begging you to beg him, and you knew he was on the verge of giving in.

“Beg me to be your plaything, Minho” you cooed in response.

Minho snickered. “That’s not how this works.” He hissed, and leaned up to nibble your ear. “But you are making it so very hard.” He sighed.

You reached down to palm his trousers. “I know I am.” You smiled devilishly.

Minho, with what looked like all his self control, pulled right back and stopped touching you completely. It seemed he hoped this move would make you cave. And you nearly did. But you decided to take a gamble.

“Fine, Minho.” You huffed. “I said from the start I wouldn’t beg. And, I said if you begged me to, I would be your plaything. But if you’re not going to…” You slid off Minho’s lap and covered yourself with the blanket.

Minho winced at the sudden loss of being able to see and feel your body that was literally in his lap a moment ago.

You picked up your crumpled dress and panties and turned your back to Minho so you could get dressed.

The blanket pooled around you feet as it dropped to the floor and you struggled to untangle the dress from the mess Changbin made when he took it off you. How the fuck did he manage to get it half inside out?

You almost had the dress back the right way, and was about to step into it when you felt Minho’s arms wrap around your waist.

“Please stay,” he whispered into your ear and holding you close against his bare chest. “Please be mine tonight.”

You felt his hot breath on your neck and it sent your head in a spin.

“I need you.” His hands slid down your sides, your head fell back against his shoulder. “I have to be inside you.” He licked a trail from your shoulder up to your ear and then took the lobe in his mouth.

“How badly do you want it.” Your voice was barely a whisper. You were enjoying what his words were doing to you. He was fucking seducing you. And it was working.

“I’m fucking begging you to let me taste you. And feel you. And. Fuck. You.”

Every single part of your body was begging for him to own you, yet he was the one who said it first. It didn’t make you feel like you’d won. It made you feel wanted.

Minho spun you around to face him and stared straight into your eyes, waiting for your answer.

“I wanna be your plaything, Minho,” you said. “Fuck me however you want, as long as you want and as hard as you want. I wanna feel what you can do to me.” You said silkily and undid his trousers and dropped them to the floor, allowing Minho to step out of them. He looked God-like. “I need you to-”

Minho kissed you slow and deep and you wrapped your legs around him as he lifted you up and placed you lengthwise on the couch.

He was on top of you, pinning you down and devouring you in the most tender way possible. You thought he’d just throw you down and fuck you stupid.

His kisses were firm but careful and the pace slow and steady. It was like he was making love to you with just his mouth and it sent tingles down your spine. His hard cock pressed against you but he didn’t attempt to penetrate you. You wanted him to though.

As the kiss continued, little moans escaped both of you and your bodies began to react by writhing against one another.

Minho smiled against your mouth and peeled his lips away from yours “I’m gonna kiss your pussy like this now.”

He kissed his way down your body, slowing down when he reached your pubic bone so he could pay extra attention there. He kissed the crease where your thigh joined your body and he nibbled your inner thigh.

You whimpered when his precious lips made contact with your labia and clitoris. He kissed you in exactly the same way he kissed your mouth. Soft. Tender. Slow. Intentional. His tongue gently dipped in to caress your clit while his lips pressed against your swollen labia. Every now and then he’d gently suck or flick your clit with the tip of his tongue.

You propped yourself up on your elbows so you could watch this mysterious man do these wickedly sensual things to you.

He looked up at you with smiling eyes and you were certain he was actually smiling. You were melting into the couch, you’d never been given this type of attention from any of your previous lovers. It was heavenly.

You watched as Minho moved his kisses down to your entrance, where they became hungrier and more urgent. But still so gentle. You must have been dripping wet by now. And you absolutely ached for him to be inside you.

“Minho… you’re so soft…and careful…” you could barely speak.

“And…is that a problem?” he teased playfully.

“I…just… don’t… understand..” Why couldn’t you talk properly?

Minho licked a stripe up through your lips and lifted his head. But he didn’t take his eyes off your pussy.

“You see… If I go softly and give your sweet pussy proper attention,” he dipped his head and kissed you. His voice was low and husky and his eyes became so dark you thought they’d turned black. “You’ll be able to take more of what I’m going to give you,” he sucked on your clit. “you’ll be able to stretch wider…” He slid a finger through your dripping folds and brought it to his mouth to suck it clean.

You thought you were going to come on the spot.

“You’ll be able to take it deeper…” he brought his finger back down to tease your entrance. “And…” he paused. “it’ll make the pain feel more….exquisite when I hurt you.” And he slid his finger into you and pressed against your g-spot bringing you almost to -

He removed his fingers just as you were about to come. You clenched your fists and squeezed you vagina hoping to bring on the release. But you’d lost it. Fucking bastard!

He knew exactly what he’d done. The satisfaction on his face was as plain as day.

“Now beautiful,” he blew cold air on your lips to deliberately make you squirm. “You’re gonna take four fingers for me, okay?”

Your eyes bulged. You’d never take four fingers before. Minho saw your horrified expression. “You’ve never had anyone stretch you open like that, hmm?” he lifted an eyebrow.

You shook your head quickly.

Minho reached down to the floor and picked up the blanket and placed it under you body. Then he found a stray cushion and placed in under your head, kissing your mouth then shimmying his way back down to get to work.

He brought two fingers to your entrance, as his mouth found your clit again. You moaned as he slipped his digits inside of you.

“Trust me beautiful. Your body can take it, I promise. You want to be a good plaything don’t you?” He purposefully avoided your g-spot as he slowly fucked you with his two fingers. You began to move your hips against him. Two fingers wasn’t enough.

Minho removed his fingers only to find you again with three. You sucked in your breath as he squeezed into you. This was the kind of stretch you loved and you mewled as he started to slowly pump you with them.

“Baby, shhh… slow your breathing…I need you to relax. Can you do that for me beautiful.” He slowed down his thrusts even further and kissed your stomach before looking up at you.

“Are you ready to take the last one? Can you be a good plaything and take it for me?”

“Mm-hmm… please.” You wanted to feel whatever he was willing to give you. Even if that scared you a little.

Minho pushed one of your legs to hang off the side of the couch, the other he pushed up towards your chest, and brought all four fingers to your entrance. “You’re such a good girl. Trust me, your body knows what to do.” And he edged the tips of his fingers into you.

You cried out at the stretch. It was like nothing you’d ever felt. You had friends who talked of doing this easily, but it was new for you, and you weren't one hundred percent sure you could manage it.

Your threw your hands above your head and gripped the top edge of the cushion your head was laying on. You felt like you were going to suffocate, and your pussy felt like it was going to split in two.

Minho moved slowly. He wasn’t in a rush. “Fuck you are taking me so fucking well.”

Were you? You dared to steal a glance at his face. His mouth hung open and his hazy, dark eyes were fixated on what his hand was doing to you. You could see how aroused this was making him, and it made you want to take every inch of him.

Laying your head back down on the cushion you immersed yourself in the feeling of him stretching you further as his fingers buried deeper. It was overwhelming, but addictive. You allowed yourself to moan loudly and cry out as the sensations intensified. You thought he was buried all the way in, but somehow he inched in even further.

“Fuck! Oh…uh…shit…” you cried out louder than ever.

You had lost any sense of your surroundings, the only thing you could focus on was the sensations in your body. You felt drunk and light headed as all the blood flow was down the other end. You felt like you were swimming in euphoria.

“That’s it… you look so fucking beautiful taking this. But I think you can take more.” Said Minho.

Then you registered his fingers on your other entrance. Jesus Christ, what was he going to do?

“Your pretty little hole is begging me to stretch it too.” He said smoothly, and he pushed his finger past the rim.

It seemed it really was begging to be stretched because you moaned with such relief that you were almost about to cry tears.

Satisfied, Minho moved up to two fingers. It burned, but it felt incredible.

“I told you the pain would feel exquisite, didn’t I?” He cooed.

“Yes!” you practically screamed. In fact you were sure that the party downstairs could hear your cries of pleasure.

You squeezed your eyes tight and gripped the cushion, and now that he was fully inside of you, your hips started to rock for more friction.

“Hmm you’re ready for me to really finger fuck you now?”

God. Yes.

You expected him to start thrusting his hand in and out of you, instead it was more of a grind, aiming and digging his fingers forcefully into your sensitive g-spot.

He removed his fingers from your ass and you whined, but he was back with more, you weren’t sure how many, and you didn’t dare to look. Instead you lost yourself to Minho, surrendering to him as he played with you.

His mouth somehow found your clitoris, his mouth hot and hungry. You were writhing and bucking up into his face and hands. You felt like you were going to choke because your could hardly breath. Your back arched and your cries became screams as your body stiffened then convulsed around the man between your legs.

You felt a sudden, forceful release on top of your orgasm. Shit! You thought you’d peed yourself. Your eyes shot open and you looked down to find Minho who was lapping up all of your juices. You were horrified.

Minho looked up pleased with himself. “Fuck, I’d never seen a woman squirt before!”.

Holy fuck. You ejaculated?

Before you had a chance to process what had just happened, Minho removed his fingers from you and crawled up to you face and hovered above you.

“Taste yourself.” He whispered and crashed his lips on yours. This was the first ravenous and messy kiss you’d shared.

“Lick these clean for me, little plaything.” He said and pushed all four fingers that had just been buried in your pussy into your mouth. You eagerly took them, greedily sucking your wetness off of his perfect fingers.

“Minho?” you held his face in your hands.

“Yeah, beautiful?” he smiled and kissed your neck.

“I need you to fuck me. I…just…just can’t get enough of you.” You couldn’t help admitting how you felt. It wasn’t like you to be this vulnerable, but Minho had literally and figuratively opened you up, exposing you and there were no more walls to hide behind.

Minho’s smile turned into a smirk.

“Okay,” he kissed your cheek. “But I fuck rough.” He said stroking your face.

“I can take it.” You pant.

Minho raised an eyebrow “Of course you will, beautiful. I’ll make you take it.” He said low.

With one hand Minho gripped your wrists and pinned them above your head. You looked down as he grasped his cock in his other hand, giving it a few good pumps, not that he needed to. His cock was throbbing and so hard it looked painful.

He was probably around the same length as Hyunjin, but a with a little more girth. You remembered how hard it was to take him, and you swore you felt your cervix beg you to stop this instant.

But you didn’t want to stop. For some reason you trusted Minho with your body. You knew that he’d know how to fuck you properly.

Both you and Minho watched his cock slam into your vagina in one thrust. He cried out a low groan and closed his eyes. He absolutely ravished your neck, your breasts, your mouth, sucking and biting you as he slammed into you at a brutal pace. You tasted blood on his mouth as he kissed you. He must have broken some skin, but you weren’t sure where. You didn’t care. The pain felt good. The pain did feel… exquisite.

Minho hovered above you, your hands were still pinned above your head as he stroked your cheek with the other. He locked his eyes on yours as he slid his hand down to your neck and loosely gripping it.

His mouth was hung open again, and you could see a tiny smear of blood on the corner of his lip. His cheeks were flushed pink like he was drunk, and his eyes… they weren’t evil or malicious, but they were deadly.

You weren’t frightened, you were excited. Having this man’s hand around your neck while he was pinning you down and fucking you was the most erotic and thrilling thing you’ve ever experienced. How would you ever go back to vanilla sex?

“Choke me, Minho.” You didn’t recognise your voice. It didn’t sound like it came from you. But every fibre of being wanted him to completely own you. Every part of you wanted to be his plaything.

A flash of doubt crossed Minho’s face, but it was only for a second. The deadly expression returning as his fingers squeezed around your neck. He let go of your hands to prop himself up on his elbow so he could focus on your face properly. You felt lightheaded, but you could still breath, you just couldn’t get a full breath in. Minho didn’t take his eyes off yours, and when he was satisfied that he wasn’t squeezing too hard, he began to fuck you again. Brutally. Relentlessly. Unforgivingly.

He slammed into your cervix and forced his entire length inside of you on each thrust. But it didn’t feel like when Hyunjin was bruising your cervix, you wanted this, you welcomed it. It felt good.

Your hands explored Minho’s sweaty body, his muscles flexing and moving underneath your fingertips. The man was strong but also flexible, and he moved like a dancer above you, while he grunted like a wild animal on every thrust. And you mewled every time he punched into your cervix.

Minho experimented with his grip on your neck. He’d squeeze a little tighter and watch you reaction, or he’d loosen it and caress you tenderly. You felt yourself go tingly and thought you were going to float away. Other times you thought you were going to pass out. But you never did. Minho somehow knew your limits, and would only dance on the edge of them, never taking you beyond what you could manage.

“Come for me.” He commanded softly, and you fucking did, pulsing around his cock and shaking uncontrollably. It was like you really were his plaything, responding to his every whim.

Suddenly, Minho growled like a beast, and leaned back on his knees, letting go of your neck. He hooked your legs over his shoulder and lifted your hips up to meet his.

You thought he was fucking you rough before, but he kicked it up to another level as he chased his orgasm. Just the sight of him losing control brought on another one for you and then you felt him. His hot pulsing release, marking you, owning you. Ruining you.

He slumped back down on you, laying there wordless for a full five minutes.

Eventually, he propped himself up above you and kissed you just like he did earlier. A slow, careful, meaningful kiss. He peeled away and smiled like he was the luckiest man alive, and you grinned back at him. He looked happy. You were happy.

“That was pretty incredible.” He said kissing you again. “I’m not sure I could ever have someone else after that. I think you might have wrecked me” He added.

You felt your heart race, even though you knew he was just saying that because he'd just had sex with you.

“Well… it was the most incredible sex I’ve ever had!” you laughed.

“Aren’t you glad I let you be my plaything then?” he teased.

“Aren’t you glad you begged me?” you challenged.

Minho pulled out of you and got up to get his phone, the sat himself back on the couch, pulling your legs across his lap.

He dialed a number and put the phone to his ear. “Hey! Yeah, can you bring some food and drinks up to me? Yeah anything’s fine..” He said, then hung up.

“You’re probably starving after that. I know I am.”

Now that you thought about it, you were hungry, and thirsty. You sat up and made for your clothes, but Minho caught your arm. “Hey, we’re far from finished you know?” he said.

Oh. “But I thought… with the food coming…”

Minho chuckled softly and shook his head.

“We’re gonna eat, catch our breath…” he leaned in close. “And then you’re going to do to me exactly what you did to Hyunjin and Changbin.”

@channieandhisgoonsquad @itshannjisung @noellllslut @kangnina @weareapackofstrays @newhope8 @sunshinesquokka @queenmea604

#lee know smut #minho x reader #skz fic #lee know au #lee know x reader #changbin smut #hyunjin smut #sorshas fic

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bird-inacage · 9 months

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Love in the Air: The Significance of Security to Sky

This moment folks. I need to talk about it. I already gave it an honourable mention, but I want to dissect why Sky's reaction here spoke volumes - and how the significance of security (aka marriage) is so important as a conclusion to the Prapaisky story.

When we first meet Sky, he's still wading through the shadow of his abuse. The prolonged aftereffects which could potentially continue for the foreseeable future, affecting his overall happiness and ability to love again.

Now fast forward to this expression we see on Sky's face during the wedding. Despite all the trials and tribulations, despite thinking he might never overcome those demons - I saw in his expression - an echo of the 'young Sky' again. The innocence in his smile. The giddy wholesomeness which is often found in young 'puppy' love. Eagerness and anticipation for things to come. Hopeful excitement which isn't marred or jaded by the toil of hardship. An expression that contained an immense degree of appreciation and relief, a 'thank god you found me' relief. A 'close-to-tears' relief that comes with finally being seen and/or valued. The point is, that expression is very similar to the way he'd looked at Gun before everything that followed.

That's the expression of a boy who has fully and willingly opened their heart to another. And here it is again. On his wedding day. Sky has somehow managed to restore some of that innocence in love he lost.

Most of Sky's anxieties can be attributed to a lack of safety (such as difficulty with trust, doubt in stability, worry of being taken advantage of, insecurity in his self-worth). This all manifests from a very simple and basic human instinct we all possess - and that is to feel safe. When someone so intimately close to you betrays you in the worst way imaginable, they've effectively stripped any sense of safety away from you by force. This is the state in which Prapai finds Sky in at the start of the series.

I've talked many times before about how Prapai fulfils a 'protector' role incredibly well. But in fact his way of handling Sky goes beyond protection. He's very adept at creating a safe space around Sky, as well as allowing Sky to feel safe when he's with him. And that's not only by loving Sky, but truly caring for Sky's wellbeing and his basic needs. Whether that's ensuring he eats, making sure he rests, or reminding Sky he doesn't need to suffer alone. This is achieved by listening, by not overstepping, by holding back, by being patient, by being gentle. And eventually escalates to Prapai 'removing' Gun as a threat. The very genesis of Sky's suffering and the very person who robbed Sky of his safety, which Prapai had been working so hard to rebuild.

Safety comes first before all else, due to safety being intrinsically linked to survival. It's only once you've established safety, that you can add security - further measures to 'ensure' this safety lasts as long as possible.

This is where Prapai's intentions for marrying Sky (other than the most obvious) are really worth considering. By his very character, our boy Prapai famously never half-asses anything. He's all in, all the time. He wants to provide everything humanly possible to the person he loves, and that involves giving Sky the highest form of security he can offer, which is by marrying him. Binding them in name, on paper, as well as on all remaining principles.

For most people, the fine print and diplomacy of marriage is not particularly romantic. But in this case it's exactly the functionality and formality of marriage that will provide Sky with the security Prapai seeks. Prapai possesses privilege. And that privilege allows him access to means he can extend to Sky. So marrying Sky means: 'I will be responsible for you. What's mine is now yours'. 'If anything happens to me, you have everything I have.' 'I now legally have the permission and the right to fully take care of you.'

This isn't essential to Sky. He already has Prapai by his side, which is plenty as far as he's concerned. He doesn't need or desire anything else. But Prapai wants to. Because Prapai is thinking about the future - their future. He is always anticipating what Sky needs or may need before Sky does for himself. Sky's perspective has always been 'you've done enough, this is enough', whereas Prapai's perspective is 'what else can I do?' At first Prapai was just trying to ensure Sky's basic needs were met and now that he's achieved that, what's next? All of this is an attempt to safeguard the person he loves and their future together. It's the devotion in such an act, the restless pursuit of such a cause that means so very much to Sky. Because he knows (as do we) - that Prapai would do anything for him.

And that - that is what we call marriage material folks.

#LITA #love in the air #love in the air series #LITA meta #wedding plan #prapaisky #paisky #prapai x sky #sky x prapai #fortpeat #ive missed dissecting them #its meta time baby #just spending my friday night thinking about them

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jamiedc-they-them · 8 months

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Family (Platonic)

This one is a bit long!!! Nimona was so good, and meant so much to me! Wanted to do this as soon as I saw the film and have finally completed it! Just a quick warning, story contains some mentions of self doubt over lgbt identity, some mentions of Suicidal Ideation, and I think that is all (if I have forgotten anything, please let me know!!!). All my love to my lgbt siblings with everything going on right now <333 you matter so damn much! And this film coming at a time like this (and even more so after I learnt about the author of the graphic novel!) is everything!

Also, all my love to the WGA and SAG-AFTRA, keep fighting the good fight!!! I wouldn’t be here writing this (or really any fanfic) without your incredible writing and work! <333

Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Nimona and Y/N are not siblings by blood, but choice, friendship, and loyalty. They find that support and acceptance in each other; but, when they catch wind of a knight who is just has hated as them, they see an opportunity to find someone else to add to their family.

If you had parents, you didn’t know them.

You just remembered always being out in the streets, just about standing by.

You never stole, you just took whatever left others you either found, or were given out of sympathy.

Pity did get you a long way, you had to admit.

People felt sorry for you, but then did nothing else to help you.

While it hurt, it never really put a chip on your shoulder. There was nothing anything you could do anyway. You couldn’t fight. You didn’t have a lot of strength in you.

One time, a group of people decided to leverage that. People like you; left behind and given nothing but scraps. Instead of coming together, however, they saw you as a weak link; something to blame for their issues and lot in life.

Just when you thought that would be it for you, someone called out. The pain stopped, but even if it lingered. You weren’t hit again. Your hearing was fuzzy, eyesight blurry.

You blacked in and out a few times.

When you came to, you are on a couch. You hear someone humming. You sit up, slowly, and see a girl around your age cooking.

“Oh, hey!” She says, turning back to you with a smile on her face, “don’t worry about those guys,” she assures you, “I took care of them.”

She seems almost proud.

Still, you just feel good that they’re gone now.

“You can have some of this, if you want,” she says, gesturing to her food.

“I don’t…I don’t want to be a burden,” you say.

You hear a growl, and see a red tiger in front of you, baring it’s teeth, “who said that?” She demands.

“No one really. Just…just the vibe, I guess?”

You look down, subconsciously; the girl seems to notice this, only watching you as you scramble to find the words you need. Then —

“I’m sorry…for not – for not knowing anymore. Could use someone like you out there.”

You feel something on your leg. Looking down, you see a red cat, rubbing itself on your leg. It looks up at you, before jumping on the couch.

“It’s not your fault, kid,” the cat says, “we’ll find them.”

You stroke the cat again. You feel safe. Sure, it’s a talking cat, but the cat was a girl a minute ago. You’ve seen what the world can hold magic wise. You know different things exist. Some people thrown out for all sorts of things they can’t control; this is that for her.

“‘We’?” You echo back to her, as she changes back to her redheaded form, arms crossed with a smirk on her face.

“Hell yeah, us!” She says, arms now up in the air, “we can watch each others back! Like a –“ her eyes light up, “like a sidekick!”

Something in your eyes brighten; something in hers soften, slightly.

They both do that a bit more as your smile widens, “ok then, where do we start?”

“Well, how about names?” She says, but there’s excitement in her eyes, “I’m Nimona!” She says, holding her hand out.

“I’m…” you say, holding out your hand and then pausing, “oh…”

She seems to catch onto what you mean, “I have a bunch of lists of names if you want to look?” She offers.

You nod, eagerly, and she fetches it – throwing some other items over her shoulder while she looks. She presents it to you. It’s a massive scroll that unfurls, “take your pick!” She says, arms outstretched to it like a ‘ta-da’ like pose. She’s proud of it.

You do pick one, even if it takes a bit of time. Still, you find one that works for you:

Y/N.

“Had a feeling you’d like that one,” she says, “I like it!”

You smile again. She does too, even if hers looks a bit like a snarl in a way; seems she’s already thinking of the damage you’ll do together. For you though, it’s about not being alone anymore.

You do get up to trouble. A lot of trouble. You paint art on walls; you play pranks on the guards so you can get somewhere – or sometimes just for fun.

Nimona’s ability to shapeshift is so damn cool. Internally, she feels a spark of happiness she hasn’t felt in a long time at your genuine acceptance and awe of her ability.

She, in turn, helps you find yourself as well. Your style, clothing wise. She notes things that make you uncomfortable as well. Sometimes that leads to deep chats; like the one you have about your lack of care for anything to do with sex or romance, or gender norms.

All she has to say to that is, “metal. Norms are for losers, anyway. I mean, end of the day, you’re Y/N, and I’m Nimona. That’s all that matters.”

It doesn’t matter if it’s something small or major that changes identity wise, her words are always the same and always true.

Her loyalty to you is the same as yours is to hers. You’re always defending her – despite her not always needing it – and backing her up in fights.

You always assure her she has you. You see her moments of vulnerability. Where the mask sort of drops. She always appreciates it. As while she’s not like you in the way of comforting people, she tries to learn from your softness and comforting manners.

You’re all each other have. At least, for a while anyway. You see the news of the manhunt for a man who killed the queen. Someone almost as hated as you are.

Nimona looks to you, and you know what your best friend is thinking.

So, you track him down. She does the talking; though at one point Ballister does look at you and seem to start implying you’re a monster to, and says, “hey, don’t look at them. Look at me,” he complies as he sees you looking around his room. You’re a curious thing.

“What — um, who are…?”

She raises an eyebrow, “they,” she starts, “are Y/N. My best friend and partner in crime and all things evil,” she then leans forward, “and I’m Nimona.”

“Yes…but, what does that mean?” He asks, trying not to piss her off. In his mind, scared he’ll become one of her – he’s sure – many victims.

A smirk appears on her face as she answers, “whatever we want it to mean.”

“Right. Yes. Ok,” he says, “that’s understandable.”

He sees you fiddling with one of his spare arms, “please be careful with that!” He says in fear. You put it back carefully, backing away from it. Nimona raises an eyebrow, letting you handle this. She knows you’re tougher than you look. Don’t get her wrong, you look better now; both a bit more comfortable in your own skin, but also decently fed.

“What is that?” You ask.

“Oh…it’s one of my spares. Just an old prototype I guess, for this,” he says, gesturing to his arm.

“Hm,” you say, looking at it and then the old version, “it’s always nice to have a spare.”

“Like a sidekick!” Nimona says, adding it one to try and persuade the knight – or ex-knight you guessed.

“No, no! Those things do not match!”

“Oh, come on!” Nimona snaps at Ballister. You just watch the interaction go on. She’s always been a stubborn one.

Still, he leaves on his own. You sigh, looking to your friend, “come on,” you say, opening the door to go to where he will end up.

“Ok, kid. You ok with a quick flight?” Nimona asks you as you look at the scale of the building. It’s intimidating; that, and heights were never your thing.

You gulp, “y-yeah.”

“Alright!” She says, happy you’re trying to put yourself out there more.

So, up you go. Despite the fact that she can shapeshift, she keeps you in mind as well as you sneak into the cells section. You do, however, keep watch, letting her go into the cell and break Ballister out the old fashion way – and the way she more enjoys, violently punching the release.

In the closet, you help keep it closed, finding more items. Out of the two, you’ve always been the more resourceful one.

She gives you a single look after Ballister makes his promise. You know what she’s going to do, so you just pull Ballister back a bit as Nimona shifts once again.

Having had some close calls and only gotten away via her shifting, you’re able to stay on better than Ballister, though you do help him when you can reach him. As for you and Nimona, however, you’re pretty much in synch with each other.

However, then comes the need for an exit. You know Nimona can fly, but she can’t hold both of you. So —

“I’ll lead them away,” you say, not allowing anyone to stop you as you take off in the opposite direction.

“Y/N, no! Come back!” Nimona calls out to you. She knows you are quick on your feet, but this is a bad place to try to be. Don’t get her wrong, she’s having fun causing havoc, but now what she might gain in a boss, she may lose a friend. She won’t do that.

Still, nothing she can do. Boss comes first.

So, off she goes, getting them both to the floor.

“Do you see them?” Nimona asks; and he hears the concern in her voice. She’s violent, but cares a lot. He respects that. Despite being surround and fighting, he tries as much as he can to keep an eye out for you.

“There!” He shouts, pointing up before dodging another strike.

Nimona turns as well, smirking, but concern still in her eyes as she sees you near a ledge. You don’t even think about it, you just jump.

So, with the wings once again, she flies upwards, dodging any attacks, before catching you and bring you down to the ground.

You both roll, before joining the Frey once again. You’ve never been as good in fights as her, but your agility and quick thinking does help. Nimona goes more aggressive once she sees Ballister in trouble. You go around some of the guards to help, but you’re taken down too.

That’s only enrages her further.

After you escape, you both start to bond with him. And, he seems a bit more at ease with you both now. You did break him out after all. So, he lets you help. Being a bit more open to ideas.

You all get down to the subway, seeing your wanted images. Somehow, you had never been photographed, so you were just a question mark. Seemed fitting, in a way, you guessed.

“Hm, no,” your best friend says, looking from you to the question mark you, “I don’t see the semblance.”

You roll your eyes, and she just giggles to herself. Ballister watches you both, eyes softening slightly at your genuine friendship and connection.

On the subway, he asks you guys, “so, how long have you both known each other?”

You share a look; her’s is asking if you want to say it, and also asking if you are ok with it being said; yours is the same.

You both shrug. She goes first with her tale, using it to make fun of Ballister.

He still seems a little disturbed by her ability to shift, even asking her to go back a to the ‘normal’ version of her. You both raise eyebrows at him. Sure, he tries to cover up by saying that it’s for other people, and not him, but you don’t exactly buy it.

“Are some of your best friends, ‘normal’?” You say, having heard that before with some people trying to cover up their hatred for you by saying that they know others. It’s bullshit.

“What? I — I, no… No, that’s not what I meant —“ he says, trying to correct his error.

“Too late,” you say, folding your arms, looking away.

Nimona changes back to her human self, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“I, uh, I’m sorry,” Ballister says. You keep looking away.

“Boss means it, Y/NN,” Nimona says, squeezing your shoulder a bit.

Ballister goes to say something else, but Nimona only holds up a hand. He nods, knowing that this is your moment. You need your own breather.

After a moment, you look up at him, seeing his eyes holding a genuine guilt to it. And a plead to make this all better. It’s the first time someone other than Nimona has looked at you. Like a person. A friend, maybe even.

You look at your best friend, the only person you’ve ever been able to call family, and she gives you a smile. You mirror it, putting your hand on top of hers.

“Thanks, Nim,” you say softly.

She removes her hand, before nudging you with her arm, “course, squirt. You and me, right?” She says, holding out her pinky finger. You link yours to hers.

“You and me. Nimona and Y/N.”

“And that’s all that matters.”

Ballister smiles. Then a thought comes to him about the question he asked but didn’t get answers to.

“Are you guys siblings?”

You look at each other again, and nod in sync.

“Closest we’ll ever get to it.”

“That’s cool,” he says, “seriously. Having a friend is…it must be nice.”

Again, you share a look; your journeys have been rough, and you’ve saved each other more times than you can count, but he’s right.

Nimona changes to a small boy, and you smile at her comment of “I am today,” before she goes off to do her part of this hastily cobbled together plan.

Ballister notices your look, “what’s wrong?”

“Just…it’s weird.”

Ballister chuckles, but not in a mean why; more surprise than anything else, “can’t be, especially not compared to my day so far.”

You nod, only really half listening. But, the words come out of your mouth before you can stop them, “I don’t…I don’t feel a fit in with…all this,” you say, pointing to him and then a random woman across the road, “and Nim…she’s fluid with it, you know? Labels don’t really matter to her. I like them. But…I can’t find the right ones. We do our names, and it works and it…I mean, it’s a statement and I love that, really. I just — I don’t know.”

“We’ll find it,” he says, not catching himself on the first word, “trust me, from what I’ve seen of Nimona, she’d burn it all down for you to find it.”

“We’ve taken up too much time,” you say, clearing your throat, gesturing for him to follow you, as you watch the man Nimona was – well, once distracting, but now chasing, went around the corner, “sorry.”

You don’t give him time to say anything back in return, you just take his hand and lead him out into the street once again, trying to find a getaway.

He recognises someone; the one with the punchable face? Maybe, you can’t quite remember. Either way, Ballister is terrified.

He hastily gets you into the vehicle with him, but you do see Nimona with a giddy smile as she shuts the boot.

Then, off you go, though Nimona does call out to you to get down.

With nothing but blind luck, you make it to an alley way. Ballister freaks out at Nimona being hurt, but she doesn’t show it hurts that much. You’re sure it does, but not as much as what is going on inside of her. You sit on the boot of the vehicle as they talk, though they do make their conversation loud enough to make you feel included.

You watch with soft eyes at the interaction, and how Nimona describes it all. When she jumps down when saying “I just wouldn’t be me,” she puts a hand on your leg too, “just like they wouldn’t be them.”

She then nudges you, “go on, bud,” she says softly, gesturing over to the bench, “go have your lil session. I’ll stay with this guy,” she says, jumping up on the boot, legs swinging.

Silently, you go over to Ballister. He looks at a cut on your arm. You aren’t entirely sure when you got it, but he does what he can to clean it.

“May I try ask again how you met?”

“Sure,” you say, looking to Nimona, she nods, encouraging smile in tow, “not the greatest of origin stories. I was always a street rat,” a crumbled up piece of paper hits your head, thrown by your best friend, “Was just always out on the streets. Never remembered anything from before. Guess either I was abandoned by parents dying, or they just left me.”

Ballister pauses, looking at you with sympathy. Nimona’s eyes are casted down to the floor. Like noted before, your lives weren’t easy, even if you had each other. The chaos was always fun, when you guys controlled it. Rebellion was something you both loved, but you were always focused more on survival than rebellion; even though you tried.

“I’m so sorry.”

You give him a sad smile, “I have my moments where…” you drift off. Nimona’s eyes shoot right up to your figure. She knows where your thoughts are going.

“Your parents were either unlucky, or bad people,” she says, “if it’s the latter, then they lost out on someone awesome.”

“Thanks, Nim.”

“No, she’s right,” Ballister says in support, “you’re a sweet, kid. You’re loyal, and kind.”

“But I don’t know who I am.”

“Well, if it helps, I thought I liked girls when I was around your age,” you chuckle softly at that after he does.

“I don’t think I want that from anyone,” you admit. Nimona smiles, glad you feel safe enough to say it. It’s your own small rebellion; she can’t be prouder of you, even muttering out a small ‘hell yeah’ under her breath.

“That’s cool,” Ballister says; you scrunch your eyes brows up slightly, not expecting him to say that, “we want what we want from life. And…if I may ask, about the other thing?”

“…I – I don’t…I don’t think ‘he’ or ‘she’ fit me. I mean,” you look to Nimona in self consciousness, “I know that’s swapping one label for another, but —”

“Labels can help us find a home in ourselves,” she says, wisely. Ballister looks to her, seeing her gaze soft as she continues, “sometimes they change. But, as long as it’s your choice on it changing, then it’s all cool with me.”

You nod, but Nimona catches the slight guilt in your eyes. She hops off the boot, approaching you as Ballister finishes his work on the cut – having only resumed it after your addition, “I always said I’ll tell ya as many times as you need. And I don’t mind, really,” she says, putting an arm on your good shoulder, “you’re my little buddy. My best friend. You’re Y/N, and who that is may shift and change, but you’re still you at the core of that.”

Emboldened by your friends and the feeling of safety to be honest, you look to the man in the boot, “shall we?”

The two look to the man, who then speaks. Saying he’s happy for you all, but now really just wants to be let go.

“Oh, yeah,” your best friend says, cracking her knuckles.

You get the video evidence that’s you need. This is it, your boss – and maybe even friend at this point – can be free. Sure, it pisses you both off at his want to still believe in this system – this system that is built to hate people like you – but you still go with him. Nimona says she’s in it because everyone hate’s Ballister too; and yes, that is part of your reasoning too – you guys aren’t alone anymore. But…if you’re honest with yourself, it’s mainly the latter part to that. To find your crew, you go by your labels and accept you fully.

The plan goes well, and you all escape together this time. Ballister holding you as you fly away.

“Why didn’t we think of this the first time?” You shout over the wind.

“We’re not very smart!” Nimona says with a chuckle.

“You have your moments, though?” Ballister asks, cheekily.

You both laugh this time, “seems so!” You say in sync.

Back at Ballister’s, the events of everything, including another brawl - this time you were more successful - though Ballister was almost taken in but you guys won, and feeling of safety, allows you to sleep soundly for once. Nimona runs a hand through your hair, head in her lap. Ballister puts a blanket over her.

“Don’t wake them, Boss,” is all Nimona says, quietly.

Ballister chuckles quietly, “I won’t, don’t worry,” he assures, before going to his computer.

Nimona soon falls asleep herself.

When Ballister meets with Ambrosius, nothing on your past comes up. Ambrosius is question on it, and says, “I’m sorry, Bal. I really am. I think that (he/she) —“

“They,” he interjects.

“Ok, sorry, yes,” Ambrosius says, correcting himself, “I think they may of met Nimona and been taken down a path. But,” he reaches out and takes Ballister’s hands in his own, “you can stop this. You can save them. We can.”

When Ballister comes back, Nimona seemingly has a sixth sense about this. She wakes up, happy, but slightly on edge when she sees the look on his face. Carefully, she removes herself from you.

“What are you?” Ballister seethes.

“We aren’t doing this here,” Nimona says, moving to the back of the couch, as if a shield.

“Answer me.”

“You aren’t dragging them into this,” she says, a fiery protectiveness in her gaze, “do you know how much they’ve been –“

“How much as done because of you?” That stings, she won’t lie, “you drag them around with you into your schemes. They’re an innocent pers-“

“Exactly,” Nimona says, keeping her voice quiet, but letting the anger still roll through her words, “so, if you wanna blame someone, which you oh so apparently do, then blame me, ok?”

“What’s going on?” You say, slurred as you still adjust to the world. You blink a few times, before slowly sit up on the sofa. You turn to your friends, and both have angry looks on their faces, “what’s wrong?”

“Gloreth,” Ballister says, “the darkness she was fighting to keep out? It was her,” he says, ripping the bandaid off instantly.

You look to Nimona, eyes wide, but not filled with fear, just shock.

“Y/N…” Nimona says, seemingly only seeing what she wants to.

“Nim,” you say, taking her hands in your own, “it doesn’t matter,” despite the reassurances, her mind is already made up. Those voices that she’s kept at bay for herself, and help you fight – and you have returned the favour in both small and large ways – are back in full force. You can see it on your friend…on your sister’s face. It pains you to no end.

“Get away from her, Y/N,” Ballister advices.

“No,” you say, firmly.

“Y/N, please…” you hate how her voice cracks a bit, looking at you.

“Hey, what was it you always said? We’re all we’ve got. You and me, yeah?”

“Don’t you understand what she is. She’s a —”

“No,” you spit, looking to Ballister, who is a bit taken aback, “it doesn’t matter. It matters who she really is. She’s Nimona. Just like I’m Y/N, and you’re Ballister. You’re the ex-knight. I’m the street rat, and Nimona is the reason this broken system was made in the first place.”

“It’s not broken,” Ballister says, running a hand through his hair.

“It always has been!” You shout, he jumps, “don’t you get that? Someone framed you for power. That power is used to make people like me hate themselves. It turns people against each other. It tears people apart, and you still support it!”

“Because it keeps us safe from monsters who want to destroy it!” He can’t stop the words as they tumble out. But, as soon as he sees you both flinch, he wants to take it back.

Nimona runs first, and as you go to follow, you pause at Ballister’s door, “you know, I really thought you’d be different,” the words strike him just like Ambrosius’ sword did. Then, you’re gone.

He slams his hand onto the table, swiping objects away. One gets his attention, that old arm he’d made. The spare. The useful spare. The one that got him through a lot before this better one.

Sure, he knew the metaphor didn’t completely work, but you were curious being. You just wanted to find safety, and Nimona just wanted to find that as well. You were both just looking for love in a world that hid it from you because of who you were.

He remembered when he first came out, how it was rocky. You were both young (sure, Nimona was old in terms of this story of her, but she was a young girl in physical form) and your lives had been several levels below rocky.

You and Nimona were all you had. He…god he realises, he was part of that too. For a moment, they let someone else in. Let someone else be a lifeline.

The words he’d said…he could see on Nimona’s face when she looked at you that something had changed in your dynamic as soon as he said it. She looked at you like she was a poison, and there was no antidote. He always remembered your words, about how at the beginning you would…oh, oh he knows what you mean now by what you wanted to do.

That pain because you couldn’t be free; you couldn’t completely be you. Oh no. Oh god.

He finds his sword. The thing that started him on this path. A path that led him to you both. Two spirited, loyal people.

He then feels the ground shake. He looks to the tv. He knows who that is. He knows who is on one last run.

“Good Gloreth,” he says, before running out of the door, just hoping that he isn’t too late. That he can make this right. As right as he can, anyway.

As for you, you try all you can to get Nimona’s attention, and she only flies away. God, you hate it; you’ve never really been out to this part of the walled off city before. You don’t know where she would go. You go to the town. There’s an abandoned building you went to one time when at a low. Nimona saved you that day, flying up to you and sitting with you. It must’ve been hours, but she managed to get you down and home. Sure, that location changed. But Nimona was a constant. She was family. She was home. She was security; always there for a pep talk or defence. You were always there with a plan or a way out. She’d always follow them, executing them to a T. You just worked.

You affirmed each other. Any doubts you’d talk about. You’d clean swap clothes, steal some if they didn’t fit or felt wrong. Tag areas with different names, but the same style so everyone knew it’s was you.

You feel a rumble as you reach the top of the building. A dark, shadowy creature, makes its way into town. Stomping over things, but not hitting anything. The only time it does is when it’s shot, screeching out in pain as it falls down.

You know who it is. You recognise a part of the scream.

It’s Nimona.

You look down the building, a hell of a drop. You see more of the flying vehicles going for her. Quickly, you do some calculations. You take a few steps back. Don’t get yourself wrong, you’re not in the healthiest of mindsets right now. If you miss, it’s a big drop, and then…well, whatever comes next. But, you have to try this. You have to try and protect your family as best you can. So, counting down quickly, you run.

You jump.

You land right on one of the vehicles. The guard is too shocked to really do anything. So, you push him with all your might, and he falls, but catches himself. You just focus on the controls of this thing. Not that many. It’s simple, but effective. It works.

So, despite some near crashes, you sort of get the hang of this thing. You use it to shoot at the attackers hurting Nimona. Some fire back at at you, others dodge and keep going at this person they decided needs to be put down for the benefit of the people.

You try your most, even get lucky, but there’s a lot of carnage going on; all their own doing.

You see, however, what Nimona is making a bee line for. The sharp end of a sword that was pointed at her so long ago.

You race forward, not even noticing your previous guard friend managing to climb back up. He wrestles with you for the controls. Once again sending you pretty much into things. However, he then pulls the breaks, but catches you before you fall. He’s not looking at you now, he’s looking at Nimona, who is stood in front of the sword, white, beating heart out.

“NO!” You cry, sending the vehicle forward once again. You get to the sword, jumping off it. The guard tries to stop you, but just misses.

“Stop —“ he calls. But, a new voice stops him.

“They’re with me!” Ballister, “they’re with me.”

He looks at you; so many apologies and silent words being sent at you at once.

You nod, “later,” you say, before running to save your sister. He follows. You both hold her back. She looks down at you.

Ballister apologises to her as well. She looks to you.

“Please don’t,” is all you can say, “I need my sister. I need my sister,” you say, repeating it as your tears finally leak.

She changes back, and you both catch her. She looks a mess, beaten to high hell, but alive.

“I love you too,” she says to you as the three of you hug. You pull back, looking at her with elation -she’d always shown it, never said it; but you did always, sort of selfishly, wanted to hear her say it – and she chuckles tiredly and brings you into a hug of just the two of you, “I need my sibling in my life too. Besides, you rebelled completely against them,” she says, having seen you on the roof and your stunt, “guess I could do something a bit different, yeah?”

You chuckle, tightening the hug. It feels right. Like pieces of a puzzle coming together. Ballister joins, and it mostly feels complete.

A hug of a family. Of people who love and accept each other.

People soon start running again, and you all see a giant cannon aimed directly at you all. You all look at the citizens, knowing it will hurt them as well.

“No –“ you say, looking to Nimona, knowing what she is planning.

She smiles, however; her mind is mind up.

She kisses you on the forehead, “I love you,” she mumbles, before giving Ballister a wink, “take care of them for me, Boss.”

“Nimona,” Ballister says, trying to stop her. To try find another way.

However, “we know I’m fast enough to stop that thing,” she says, “and we’re wasting too much time. I get to punch someone with a punchable face, like really hard,” she then looks back to you, and sees you about to break again, “hey,” she says, cupping your face in her hands, “I’ll always be here,” she puts her hand on your chest, “you’ve got this. You’re gonna build a new, better, world.”

With that, she turns into a phoenix, and flies right into the cannon. The explosion rocks the wall, creating a massive gap in it. What does it show? It shows that the outside world is beautiful, that they had anything to fear. There is danger there, but also beauty. So much beauty.

Ballister and you go down to try and find Nimona, instead you only find red specs flying around.

You curl up into a ball, letting out sobs.

Ambrosius comforts Ballister, but saw how you were with the guardsman above. Granted in glimpses, but given your friendship with Nimona, your distrust of this system that he too is now questioning is understandable. So, he lets Ballister take his time before bringing you into a hug as you both cry for your fallen friend.

Some time passes, and you are all called heroes. You move in with Ballister, and your friendship rebuilds. He becomes this role model to you of perseverance and light. Softness and love. He becomes a sort of parental figure. He supports you when you stumble, and you do the same for him.

Ambrosius respects your boundries. He’s a nice person, even if you have your many issues with the system. He listens, like actually listens to them, and does what he can to set them right. He knows it will take time, but he knows you’ll appreciate the effort.

It’s slow going with him, but he is sweet. He’s kind. So, you are warming up to him. And he’s getting to know you. And, you do have to admit, him and Bal are sweet.

One day, when you’re in home alone, Bal and Ambrosius out on a date, you hear something. It’s like the wind, but that’s not possible as it’s a peaceful day. You then turn, seeing a glare of light. It gets brighter and brighter —

And then it stops. You lower your hand, and drop your bowl of popcorn. It doesn’t break, but the effect is there.

“Hey, champ,” you hear her say.

And you barrel right into Nimona’s awaiting arms. She chuckles, spinning you around before putting you back on the ground, “oh, look at you!” She says, turning your head with her hands, noting the subtle changes to your style and your looks, “you look so good!”

You chuckle, before going in for another hug. She hugs you back just as tightly.

She shuts her eyes, hoping to hold this moment in her mind forever; just as you are as well.

She pulls back, then looks to the TV, “what you watching, squirt?” She asks. You grab her hand, and pull her to it, hopping over it, which she mirrors on the other side, before now sharing the blanket with her and handing her the bowl and filling it up with more popcorn.

You hit play, and both watch the TV.

Bal comes back, and does a double take when he sees you both. It’s like a mirror version of the last time he saw you asleep on her lap, hand going through your hair again.

“Oh, hey, Boss,” she says, “just figured I’d pop in, say ‘hi’ and all that.”

Ballister can only laugh, tears of happiness forming in his eyes.

“Hi,” he says, holding his arms open.

“Hey,” she says, hugging him.

The family is complete.

Y/N and Nimona the siblings; and Balister and Ambrosius the parental/older siblings. The label isn’t exactly exact, but sometimes labels aren’t. They fluctuate.

But the love, just as the person, is still there. Still them. Still have all that love and hope inside of them.

Some people like labels, some don’t.

Either way, you all fit together. You all know what you are.

Family. And a family who aren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

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