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lucrativesoul · 9 months

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Welcome Home

summary: you finally graduated college and are home free for the summer, planning to spend as much time as possible with your best friend. what you weren't planning for, however, was the incredible sight of her older brother, Leon, who had drastically changed after all those years. you had never thought you would fall for your best friend's brother.

pairing: leon kennedy (re2) x fem! reader

word count: 9.3k

warnings: smut, bathroom sex, public sex, fingering, dom(ish) leon

a/n: guys, thank you endlessly for 300+ followers, 250+ reblogs and all those likes! i'd like you all to take a moment to read this, apologies... i absolutely love writing. I've been writing for ten years! crazy. i do it for fun, and because i want to put out the content that i want to consume and i want to be that outlet for people who don't write but want to consume, that is just as fair! a while ago, while writing this, my laptop gave me a scare. i'm realizing now that its a 5 year old macbook, which, in apple timeline, means it might be on the way out at the blink of an eye. if you are feeling generous at all, i have created a ko-fi. it is absolutely not necessary, because i'm not doing this blog for money, but if you really love my work and want other ways to support me, it's there. i will never be upset at no donations, but i made it in hopes that i'm on this blog for a long time. so sorry for the rambling, i really hope you guys enjoy this one, and i will be back soon for a fifth fic. love u!

No matter how many young adult fiction books you read, how many love story tropes you think you have seen, there was just one that seemed so unreasonable, it was almost laughable. Because, after all, you spent way too much time with this person to ever even see him as attractive, it had never even crossed your mind. Come on, your best friend’s brother? The boy who was so ungracious, messy, impolite, and had a crude, childish sense of humor? It was just unrealistic.

Until… It was realistic.

For all your life, you looked at Leon Kennedy as the young, bumbling boy who tripped over his own two feet at any given opportunity, ready to make jokes at inappropriate times and constantly worked overtime to barge in when you and your best friend were hanging out. He was only two years older than you, but his personality read the same age, if not, younger. Boys will be boys…

You always knew that college would change a person, and you can’t deny that about yourself, but it was so hard to look at the people you were closest to and imagine that they, too, changed with college. Your best friend was still the same person you knew since middle school, and all those years that you knew Leon, he had never changed, until he left for college himself. You were confident in knowing that when he came back, he would be the same exact person, just… older.

You could not have been more wrong.

“These days could not go by any faster.” Your best friend whined to you over the phone, a daily routine between the two of you. “I need you home ASAP, Leon is driving me crazy. He’s being so loud.”

Yep, that sounded pretty in character for him. “I know, just five more days, and I’m home free, forever. I wish commencement wasn’t even happening at this rate, I’m wasting away here.”

You were finishing up your last days as a college senior at a school that was a thousand miles away from home. The scholarship opportunity was incredible, and you could not say no to this offer. Your best friend chose to stay local, which you inwardly criticized, but would never say to her. You knew her parents could have afforded to send her here, who needs that big of a house for a family of four anyway?!

Commencement was set to happen on Thursday, and it was currently Sunday. Your own parents had flown in to watch you walk the stage, and while you knew your best friend would have dropped everything to come as well, her school chose to hold theirs on the same exact day. Figures.

“I miss you guys. The summers I came home just weren't enough. I have to say, I’m so glad this internship bullshit is over. It feels like I haven’t ever even lived with you.”

You heard her groan on the other line. “I know! It’s so stupid. Why would a program even make it so you could only intern in the summer? Don't they know you are only in your twenties once?!”

You laughed at her remark, gazing off as you continued the conversation. Classes were over and exams were concluded, at least you had a healthy pile of books to go through to pass the time. You decided to worry about the logistics of taking them home at a later date.

There’s something so innocent about getting lost in the world of young adult romance. Some would say it makes their own lives dreary, coming to the conclusion that they could never live out these fantasies in the real world, but to you, it felt real anyways. It only made you happier. It puts some optimism in your life.

The comfy plane read you chose was about a high school girl, absolutely smitten over the five-years-older brother of her best friend. This type of thing, you thought, just seemed too… fairytale, to be real. In no world where you knew someone as a child could you grow up and think they were an object of fantasy. You tried picturing you and Leon in this situation. Never!

Admittedly, you haven’t seen Leon in like 4 years. The last time you saw him, it was right before you left for college, and your major requires summer internships which leave a very small window for home visits. You never crossed paths during those times. From what your friend tells you, he’s rarely home now, he must have migrated to a new group of friends in college and found other passions. Good for him, you thought, you wish you could say the same, but you needed the income from whatever job you landed from your internship.

He was never really a tiny boy in high school, he was of a pretty average build and rivaled some of the football players, but he was not an athletic kid. You can’t imagine him changing that much more, your best friend never talked about him like that, obviously, so, you only had to imagine after the last time you saw him.

From your own personal standpoint, it was just impossible to believe in this best friend’s brother trope. You shut the book and closed your eyes, willing the plane to start moving faster.

As soon as your plane touched down, you whipped your phone out to send a text: As soon as all this shit is put away, I’m coming straight over.

Predictably, less than three minutes later: YES!! All nighter, we’re 14 again. I have drinks in the fridge.

Willing yourself through all the pleasantries of coming home, promising other relatives you would be by in a few days when you are settled, you merely threw your suitcase down into your room before dashing out to your car, knowing the route to your best friend’s house even with your eyes closed.

A tight, running start hug was the intro you both needed as a fresh start to the summer.

“Please tell me you are home for good now, they aren't making you do any more summer internships?”

You laughed as you followed her into the house. It felt like it’s been forever since you’ve been in this large house’s lived-in walls. “No, thank god. I’m officially done. Except for job hunting, but I’m putting that off for as long as I can get away with it.”

“Agreed.”

As you followed her up the steps to her room, snacks and drinks spilling over your arms, a loud cacophony rang out through the house, coming from the garage. “What the hell is that?” You stopped short, listening to it through the closed door.

“Wow, that’s how I really know it’s been forever since you’ve been here. I’m so used to it now. It’s a band that Leon is a part of. The ‘rents loaned out a car space in the garage.”

Wow, you thought, multiple things to dissect here. One: this has been going on for some time now, and you never knew. You didn’t blame your friend for not bringing it up, it wasn’t weird to not mention a new hobby of her brother’s. Two: Leon apparently knew how to play an instrument. You couldn’t recall anytime seeing him play anything, and he had never expressed an interest in singing, so that was difficult to digest. Three: their parents would give up a car space just for them to do this. They still had two car spaces left in there.

“God, it’s really been that long, huh? I’ll have to get him to spill all about this whenever he comes out.”

You heard a groan from in front of you on the stairs, and you hopped up to be beside her, headed to her bedroom. “If you can even catch him. He’s like a slippery snake. Plus, he’s so private, I don't know what happened to him. Anyway, you should come over tomorrow night and pregame with me and the girls, cause…”

She droned on, and while you still had half of your brain paying attention to her, you couldn’t help but think about that sentence she just said. Leon’s different now? The slippery snake part didn’t make many waves, you weren’t surprised that a man in his mid twenties didn’t want to be bothered, but you didn’t expect a whole new personality to come out of him. What happened while he was gone? Or, what kind of epiphany did he have?

“Oh, my god, look at this, too. I totally forgot to send you this. I’m so mad you missed it!”

Your best friend shoved a phone in your face, and you took it, grateful for the mental topic switch. It was a group of four girls and five boys, your old friends, standing along a cliffside in bathing suits. You assumed this was the cliff jumping extravaganza you heard about over the phone a couple weeks ago. And, yes, you were also mad you missed it.

“This looked like so much fun, I haven't seen all of them in forever. Maybe we can convince everyone to do it again soon.” You looked up and smiled as your friend laughed. You looked back down to the photo. “Who is this?”

She leaned over you as you zoomed in on a man in the top right, his lower half covered by a girl bending forward for a photo, but you could tell he was incredibly toned. His hair was pushed back with water from the lake below, and a broad smile graced his features. You sensed familiarity, but you had never met this person before.

Your friend scoffs. “Girl, what? That’s Leon.”

“What?!” Has it really been that long since you’ve seen Leon in person? Now that you look at it again, yep, that’s definitely him, but why does he look so different? Thinking back, it wasn’t often you spent time with him around after he graduated high school and went to college. You saw him probably even less than you visited home during your college career, and honestly, it has probably been years since you’ve seen him at all. “He looks so… different.”

“Like I said, I don’t know what happened. Maybe he won’t recognize you either.” You handed her phone back to her. Maybe, you wondered, but you doubted it. Nothing about you changed at all. You woke up every day waiting for a magical overnight nose job and five month glute progress from the gym that you didn’t go to, but it never happened.

The night carried on, the strange questions about Leon’s college whereabouts pushed to the back of your mind. It felt so good to be back home. The summer was only just getting started, and with the buzz running through your system, you couldn't feel anything except excitement.

“I’m out of water, fuckkk,” You moaned. Your friend giggled at you.

“Go get some. And don’t fall.” If you were any more sober you would have glared at her for this, reminding you of the time you drunkenly took a tumble down her stairs, but right now, it was only a funny memory as you totally didn’t have an iron grip on the railing as you walked down.

The rest of the house was dark and quiet now. You remembered her saying her parents were somewhere else, so you hadn’t seen them at all tonight, and there was no longer heavy music coming from the garage. You instinctively turned your head that way, like it would magically start up again.

You stumbled over to the refrigerator, yanking it open and hearing all the bottles clink around on the door. It took you a second to collect your bearings, but after a few more seconds, water was located, and you let your eyes readjust to the darkness as you shut the door. A figure in the darkness made you yelp.

“Goddamnit, you scared me!” You placed a hand over your beating heart.

A deep laugh floated through the air at this, but you were still partially blinded. “Hey, you. I’m sorry, I thought you were my sister.”

Leon.

You blinked hard a few times, willing the night vision to return, and a little bit of your drunkenness away. You took a hard look at the man in front of you, as good of a look as you could. You only saw a silhouette, a dark shirt, hair over his forehead, and he was taller than you, wider, stronger. This was not the Leon you remember from high school.

“Leon. It’s so nice to see you.” You tried your hardest to sound normal, but surely he already knew what the two of you were up to.

“Yeah, it’s been a while.” Slowly, your vision was returning, and his facial features were becoming prominent. Eyes. Mouth. Smile. “Congratulations on graduating, back home for good now?”

“Yeah, yes. Thank god. Thank you.” You could now tell you were fumbling over your words, and suddenly wanting nothing more than to go back upstairs. “I’ll be here a lot more often now, so get used to me.” You walked around him back to the stairs, listening to that low chuckle that you got out of him. God, you really needed another drink.

The night and next day bore on with nothing too important left to remember about it, as long as you were in the confort of your home town again getting fucked up with nowhere to be, it was a great time as far as you were concerned.

Though, despite continuing to drink that night and waking up a little unsteady the next morning, you couldn’t shake that brief encounter you had with Leon. You could barely see him in the dark, but you could already tell he looked different. His build was wider than the last time you saw it, he even looked a little taller. He had only ever been maybe an inch above you, but since he disappeared to college, it looked like he went up at least five. Or maybe you were shrinking.

You were mad it was so dark and you were on the edge of tipsy and drunk to be able to clearly see him. You saw him in the photo of the outing at the cliffside, but you really didn't want to believe that was him. He was almost… sexy.

Which was crazy. You had never thought of Leon like that. Yes, there was some sort of novelty to having a crush on the only consistent older man in your life whom you weren’t related to, but whenever you came face to face with him, it was just normal. You felt nothing, he was just there.

But this… this could change everything. Was he actually attractive now? God knows you weren’t the best at being normal around people who you thought were attractive, and that could make things infinitely awkward with being around your best friend so often. And your best friend, what would she even think? You can’t confide in her to tell her you might think her older brother is hot. This was all messed up. This is not how you wanted summer to start.

–

A few days had passed with no rift, and your momentary crisis left with no memory. You discovered, though, as much as you couldn’t wait for summer to roll around so you could be free of your duties, your days were much more boring than you had anticipated. With your past summer internships, you were always busy, and had one or two days a week to rest at most. But now, with the summer sun high in the sky and no requirements of you anymore, you were at a loss of anything to do other than sit by your best friend’s pool, baking in the heat.

“They’re having some start-of-summer party going on in one of the campus houses tonight, are we down?”

You didn’t move your head nor open your eyes as your friend spoke to you. “Yeah, sure. It will be more of a time than drinking with just us.”

She sighed. “You can say that again.”

You pushed yourself up off the chair. “I’ll be back, don’t drown.”

You listened to her sarcastic response as you went inside the house, needing a moment to cool down, and to refill your drink. As you slid the glass door shut, you were greeted with the sound of loud instruments, reminding you of the first night you came here once returning from school. Leon must have had his bandmates come over some time while the both of you were outside, as you don’t remember hearing this, or seeing anyone else. You ignored it, and stalked past the door, headed upstairs to the kitchen.

The music stopped, a door opened, and chatter became clearer without the barrier. You didn’t know who else Leon could have here, you didn’t know his friends, and you were suddenly too aware of the bikini you had on. Whatever, you soothed your anxiety, I look good.

“Oh, hey.” You turned around at the strange voice, not recognizing the person standing at the stairway, headed towards the kitchen. “Now it’s a party.”

“Dude, gross.” A more familiar voice followed quickly behind the quip, and Leon’s head became visible as he climbed the stairs. “Sorry.” He spoke now to you, visibly doing his best to keep eye contact with you. Now you could really feel your half-nakedness.

“Doesn’t sound like you guys are making much progress out there.” You joked, turning your head back to where you were filling your water bottle. You heard Leon’s friend laugh, making a remark along the lines of blaming other people in the band, but you unintentionally tuned him out.

“We’re trying.” Leon was closer to you now, and when you turned, his friend had disappeared, probably into the bathroom. Leon was grabbing drinks from the fridge, and the two of you were separated by the kitchen island, sunlight illuminating both of you.

His hair was a shade darker than you remembered it being, still blonde, but almost brown. It came down to touch his ears, and the pieces of bangs on his forehead were clumped together with sweat. He had on a gray tank, the ones with the arm holes that go down to your ribcage. His arms, god, those arms–

“Doing anything fun out there?” He walked around the island, even closer to you now, getting cups from the cabinets.

You shook your head. “Just trying to become a leather couch while I’m still young.” You fixed the top of your water bottle back on, but didn’t move from your spot, taking the chance to talk to Leon.

“That’s the spirit.” He placed the cups down on the counter and leaned on it, clearly standing around to talk to you, too. You noticed a bandage wrapped around his right hand as he crossed his arms.

“What happened there? Start scrapping with the wrong people?”

He lifted it and looked at it, like he just realized it was there. He laughed softly. “This might sound gross, but it's just a callus that burst open the other day. Right when I was used to holding drumsticks all the time.”

You sighed a gentle laugh. “Doesn’t that hurt, still using it?”

He shook his head. “Nah, I just didn’t want to start touching shit and get it all gross again.” He set his hand back down. You took the silence to ask another question.

“When did the drums start? That was never a thing as far as I can remember.” He looked down, slowly nodding his head, as if trying to piece together memories of what his life was like the last time he saw you.

He sighed. “I kind of picked it up during college. I thought it was a lot of fun. I knew a lot of guys at the time who were in a bunch of different bands, so they had access to all these instruments, and I tried a bunch, but the only one that stuck was drums. I guess it’s easy and I like it only because I still can’t read sheet music for the life of me.”

You smiled softly at his explanation. Looking at him in the daylight, now, you can see the old him in his features. He grew into his face, his cheekbones slightly more pronounced, and his dimpled chin fitting perfectly into his jawline. His eyes were soft, yet tired. Still the bright blue you remember them being.

“Are you any good?”

He smiled fully at this, looking back up to you. “Of course. I know it sounds like ass right now, but we’re trying out some new stuff. But, and maybe I’m just biased, I think we have some really solid potential.”

You shrugged, a grin still present on your face. “I’ll have to see it to believe it.”

Leon stood up now, grabbing the cups and the still tied together 6-pack. “I agree. We’re doing a local show next Wednesday night. I’m always inviting my sister, but she doesn’t like going alone, and the rest of your friends don’t like that bar.” You smiled at this. Sounds typical of your friends. “Maybe she will come if you will. And, uh, if you’re still with that guy, he can come, too.”

Your brow furrowed at this. “Guy?”

Leon shrugged. “Oh, well, she told me in passing that you were with some guy last summer. From around here.”

You paused to think about this, nearly forgetting your whole past trying to rake your brain for a memory. It then hit you. “Oh, shit, yeah, that was definitely just a summer thing. He was…” A douche, conceited, horrible at sex. “Not the best. I’m not seeing anybody. And definitely not while school was in. I was way too busy for that.”

He nodded, standing up a little straighter. “Well, that’s good. And fuck that guy.” You giggled at his support. “I think you should come. I’d be happy to see you there.”

And, oddly, for the first time ever speaking with Leon, your stomach did a flip that only ever happened when you were talking to someone whom you liked. It caught you off guard, and your words caught on your throat.

You nodded quickly, using the opportunity to take a deep breath in. “Yeah, I’ll be there. I’ve got the time to, now.”

“Cool. I won’t disappoint, I promise.” With that, Leon bounded back across the room and down the stairs, opening and shutting the door to the garage. You sighed deeply. You didn’t like the feeling that was creeping up inside of you.

Putting your newfound conundrum aside for the night, you resolved to let loose and get back to enjoying the summer the way you had intended to. You were almost tempted to stick around and listen once his band got started with the music again as you were on your way outside, but decided against it, as your friend would surely be asking what took so long.

Part of you wished Leon had gone to this little party tonight, considering he knew all of your mutual friends, but he was never the party type before this, and it seemed that college did not change that much either. It would make sense if he had a gig coming up, they must be preparing, but you didn’t picture him to be much of a perfectionist. Maybe that changed as well.

–

“Why are we going to this again?” Your friend asked as she followed you out of her house, locking the door behind her. She seemed awfully quick to keep up with you for complaining about doing something she doesn't want to.

“I don’t know, it gives us something to do. Leon asked me to come. Now you’re coming with me.”

“What? Why did Leon ask you to come? He doesn't ask me.” The two of you slid into her sleek black coupe.

You shrugged as you fastened the belt. “I saw him the other day when I was here, I came in while we were out by the pool. We were just talking. And he said he does invite you, by the way, but you never go.”

She was the one to shrug this time. “Maybe he does. You think there will be hot men here?”

“We’re both hoping.” You half-assed the response, but you already knew the answer was yes. You could never tell her you think Leon is attractive now. You had been mulling it over the past few days, ever since you spoke to him, and you had no choice but to confirm it. He really, really grew into his body. You could even push the curiosity aside to wonder what it was about college that changed him like that, you were just thankful it happened.

Your local bar looked just as you remembered, dark and looming from the outside, people filing in and out simultaneously. It was much busier than you had ever seen it, but the show was most likely the reason for the sudden influx in customers.

The crowd was a thick mass, and you had trouble even spotting the stage when you walked in, but once you and your friend had found a nice little corner, vacant of bodies, and conveniently found a third mutual friend to stand by, the room seemed a little less stuffy.

You absentmindedly scanned the crowd, people hoarding in front of the stage, waiting to be the first to break open the mosh pit, presumably, people in the back drinking idly and chatting, almost like they don't even know a show is happening this night. You found yourself looking for Leon. He was in the building somewhere. You wished you could have told him you were there, but what good would that have done? He wouldn’t have come out to say hello, there were preparations to be had back there.

God, shut up already, you willed at yourself, annoyed at the mere fact that you couldn’t stop thinking of Leon.

Admittedly, you thought of that first scene more often than not recently. The muscle shirt, ribcage exposed, thick arms, sweet smile and bouncy cheeks with a strong jawline, the vision came to you during the day, at breakfast, while you were scrolling your phone, late at night, when the moon was your only company.

You wondered what he would look like tonight. You were so anxious for him to step out on stage. Would he see you?

Your friend stumbled sideways into you, knocking you out of your monetary stupor. People were now starting to crowd in, hence the bump, and you were assuming the start of the set was about to happen.

On cue, the lights went darker, the roar of the crowd exploded, and people rushed on stage and took their places. Your eyes were instantly drawn to Leon, who, from what you could only see from the backlight so far, had on another muscle shirt. It made your legs feel like jelly.

The lights went on, and after a brief introduction from the front man who was holding a guitar, they started. Leon was right, they were pretty good when they weren’t rehearsing new material. You knew this wasn’t the type of music your best friend was into, but to your surprise, she was bopping away with your other mutual friend, both of them holding drinks. That’s probably why.

Turning back, you could see Leon clearly under the lights now, which were strobing in and out, flashing different colors and patterns. His hair was pushed back this time, exposing his forehead, and looking brand new. You liked the way it looked on him, it made him almost look older. Everytime a strong beam of light would shine down on him, you could see the glistening sweat on his skin, his face. He was so focused on hitting the beats, and succeeded everytime, and you were so enticed by it.

This was a side of Leon you never thought you would see. It was so clear, standing in the crowd watching, how much he belonged up there. He looked so confident, every move was made with ease, no hesitation, and you could feel yourself melting.

It was like a headrush, you didn’t think you would enjoy it this much, but clearly, every moment took your breath away. Yes, you were looking at Leon the whole time, but who could really tell?

Soon enough, the show ended, and the crowd was applauding for what felt like ten minutes as the individual members left the stage, thanked everyone, hopped down to talk to others. You were interrupted with your people-watching when your friend grabbed you by the elbow to let you know she was headed back to the bar for more drinks, and you absentmindedly nodded while you turned back.

You caught the back of Leon, dipping behind the stage into the back of the bar. The tips of your fingers tingled with… something, some emotion you couldn’t read… and you let your body take over as you weaved through the crowd, headed to the back.

People bumped you and yelled in your ears as you squeezed in between them, paying them no mind, on a mission of your own.

After a few seconds, you reached a hallway, a few people lingering by the bathrooms, and you spotted someone, you recognized him as the frontman, dipping behind another doorway, chattering loudly to people behind the wall. Times like this, you wished you had decided to down some liquid courage.

You stalked slowly over to the doorway, seeing flashes of shadow as people walked by, unsure if you should hang out or go in. Most likely, you weren’t welcome, it was probably for performers only, but you couldn’t help it, you continued inching closer, drawn in by an unseen force.

As you took another step inward, a figure rushed out and crashed right into you.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry, bathrooms are that way if you’re looking for them, this is restricted access.” You looked up at the man you walked into, you didn’t know who it was.

“Oh, um…” You backed up a step, and though he was making moves to walk around you, he was waiting for a response. “I was actually waiting for Leon… the drummer.” You added in the title, just in case this was a man who worked at the bar with no affiliation to the band. But, to your relief, he nodded.

“I’ll get him, just chill over there, ‘kay?”

You dumbly nodded and backed up again. The hallway was lit with fluorescents, the bright white kind, but it was still dark, with the walls and floors looking slick with condensation. You opted not to lean up against them.

“Hey, you’re still here?” A voice snapped your head back over to your left, and you saw Leon walking towards you. “You didn’t leave with the rest of them?” He must have seen your other friend there as well.

You shook your head. “They’re still here, I think. Just getting drinks.” He nodded. “I told you I would come.” You held your arms out in a here I am gesture. He laughed.

“I’m so glad. I didn’t see you while I was up there, but… I do tend to just tune everything else out when I play.”

“You did great. You were really good.” You spoke, almost breathless for no apparent reason.

He smiled softly, his eyes holding contact with yours. “Thank you.” His hair was now starting to fall back into place on his forehead, his face was still red with exerted energy. Your eyes wandered, without your permission, his arms were shining under the hallway lights, still sweaty. You looked away, but he saw. “You look great tonight.” His voice was low, and a twist went straight down your abdomen.

You smiled back. You briefly looked down at your outfit, simply a short skirt and loose band tee. “Thank you. It’s nothing.”

“I like it.” He looked back into your eyes, and you found yourself lost for words. He broke eye contact for a second, turned around and looked into the back room where, presumably, the rest of his bandmates were. He turned back to you. “You know,” He looked down, and took a step forward towards you, slowly, as if to test the waters. You stayed put. “It’s been so long since I saw you last. I almost didn’t recognize you the first night you were at the house.” You grinned at the memory. You were also equally stunned to not know Leon had changed so much. “Not that you weren’t before but… You’re beautiful, now.”

Your stomach sank at his words, and with his new proximity to you, it caused you to have to look up at him. You felt a strong shiver course up your body.

“I really… I didn’t recognize you. You look so different, too.” You whispered, knowing he was close enough to hear you. “I didn’t even think it was you at first.”

He simply stared at you for a few more moments, taking in your words, and the way you looked in front of him right now. You were suddenly self conscious, but his gaze seemed to tell you that he liked whatever he saw.

“I… don’t want to back you into any corners here…” He looked down, still not meeting your eyes. “But you’re giving me a… vibe. And I’d rather fuck around and find out than never know if I don’t try.”

You stood up straighter, coming closer to meet his face, his eyes finally touching back onto yours. “What kind of vibe?” You had to say something, anything, because you could barely comprehend this situation right now. Leon was catching a vibe from you? Could he tell that you were looking at his body? Could he tell that you thought he became very sexy?

He tilted his head a little further, and his brow bone cast a shadow over his eyes, darkening them. Another shiver down your body. He shrugged. “I think I just… think you are incredibly attractive, now.” His eyes darted down your body for a quick second before resuming their previous place. “And I want to know if you want to just try it out. Just once.”

You took a quick, silent breath in. He must have been picking up your messages, even though you said nothing and only spoke to him once. Was that one conversation that powerful? Was it the hint you dropped about not being with that guy anymore? Was this something he just knew he was going to attempt as soon as he saw you? You didn’t know, and you really didn’t have the time to think it over.

You reached up and placed a hand on his chest, slowly taking the shirt on his body in your hands, pulling him closer, but with no force. His eyes darted up behind you, and he turned his head quickly one more time. He saved you the trouble, and dipped his head down and kissed you hard.

You sighed instantly, fully gripping his shirt and dragging him in closer to you, pushing your body against his as you could feel him move towards you at the same time. You were exploding, you didn’t know what to do with the rest of your body, and could only bring your other hand up to his bicep, where he then palmed your waist. He pulled back after a few seconds.

“Follow me,” His face was flushed, and when he turned around, you were very quick to follow. He maneuvered the two of you through the back room, where people still were congregating, but none of them paid much attention to the two of you. You passed by his other bandmates, and when he turned the corner, he pushed open a door, and ushered you inside. It was a bathroom. “This is the best I can do right now.”

Instead of replying, you simply grabbed his face in both hands and pulled him in. The room was dark, you could tell from under your eyelids as you felt the heat of his face on yours again, and you were at least happy for that, you weren’t too sure you wanted to see the state of the bar’s bathroom at this moment.

His hands found solace again on your waist, thumbs rubbing circles, and fingers teasing along the waistband of your skirt. Leon pressed himself further into you, sandwiching you in between him and the wall, and the stark difference in temperature between the two caused another series of shivers to run up your body.

Leon’s mouth left your lips, now wet and slick with his saliva and yours, and traced them down the length of your jaw, along your neck, nipping at the tender skin, making you sigh and arch your back, increasing the contact of your bodies. Your hands dragged along his sturdy shoulders, reaching around and locking your arms behind his neck, holding him in as he worked your neck, and as his hands started to move. You kept breathily gasping as he bit underneath your jawline, fingertips caressing your jutting hip bone, dipping lower, causing ripples to erupt in your core.

He had positioned his hands now to take purchase on the hem of your skirt, full intentions of pulling it up, when he released his lips from your neck and his face was back in front of yours.

“Sorry that this is all we have.” His voice was low, and you almost didn't hear it over the static of the bar music softly coming in through the speakers. “We can wait if you want.”

His hand was still positioned on your clothing, and you didn’t let go of him even a little bit. You could only look up, your head already touching the wall behind you. “Where’s the thrill in that?”

Under his shadow, you saw his lips quirk up slightly, he breathed a laugh, and dove back in to kiss you. You threaded your fingers through his hair, slightly tugging, hearing him groan at the sensation. The hand that was ready to hike your skirt up did just that, and his other was gripping your thigh, lifting it higher so he could slide himself right in between.

He made himself comfortable pressed against you, and you could feel his erection growing through his jeans, giving himself some sort of friction, and you pushed back, earning another groan through your still connected lips. You dropped one of your hands from his hair and traced down his bicep, and into the large hole of his shirt, relishing in every ridge that his ribcage and abdomen had to offer. His skin was so smooth, you knew you would never be able to get enough.

He backed away from the kiss briefly for another moment. “If I never saw you that day you came inside, half naked… in my house looking like that…” He continued to grind himself into you as he spoke, earning noises from the both of you. “Who knows how long I would have to wait?” The hand on your thigh crept upward, leaving a wake of shivers in its path. His palm was flush to your bare skin, reaching the joint of your thigh and hip, and he squeezed the flesh of your hip, digging his thumb into the sweet spot, making you squirm. You clawed at his back, you didn’t even care if it hurt him. You were sure it didn’t.

Leon hovered his mouth over yours, not connecting, but enticing you, and you could only look up at him through a foggy gaze. His hair had now fallen back over his forehead, streaked with sweat, but you hardly minded the way it was touching yours, you wanted him closer. It was impossible how, through the shadow he cast from the light behind him, you could see his blue eyes so clearly, pupils blown, the way he was looking at you made you want to drop dead.

You couldn’t wait any longer, you didn’t even have words to say back to him, you just needed to show him what you thought, how you felt, you just needed him. Your hands came around the front of his body again, not losing contact the entire way, and grasped desperately at his belt, needing to pull out his girth, needing to have his cock in your hands, mouth, in you.

You gasped, trying to form words, but his presence was so dominating, you almost couldn’t. “Leon…” You breathed, and your fingers couldn’t work the clasp fast enough. “Let me…” Finally, it slid open, you pulled the two ends of the belt apart, and made quick work to free his dick from its constraints. Your knees buckled, and you started sliding down the wall.

As you were about to hit the ground, his hands hoisted you back up from under your arms, and you could have whined, the frustration growing, the time only growing in between you getting to have him in your mouth.

“No, I’m sorry,” He grunted as he pulled you up. He put both hands under your thighs, and you gasped as he suddenly picked you up, you wrapped your arms around his neck for balance. “You’re not getting on this floor for me, we’ll save that for another time.”

Another time. Fuck, just those words alone had you melting in his grasp, his strong hands and arms holding you up, walking you around the corner of the bathroom and shutting the two of you in a stall.

“But, you already started this for me, so,” He had you pressed in between himself and the wall once again, one of his arms was still holding you up in the air, legs wrapped around his torso. He tried to separate himself as much as he could to pull his cock out, you reached down in between the two of you to help him, pulling the waistband forward so he could pull them down.

Your breath caught as he pulled it out, a solid, thick length, rock hard, and you were suddenly so mad he wouldn’t let you suck it, because, fuck you would have sucked the life out of him at just the sight of his dick.

Once he was free, he stroked himself a couple of times, causing himself to moan, and shit, you almost did, too, and he went back to the hem of your skirt, pushing it up over your hips, exposing your small underwear. He eyed them for a moment, humming in acceptance, before sliding them sideways and exposing your aching pussy to the cool air. You, in contrast, were overheating in this bathroom, but now that you were free, it felt so nice, and it felt even better when he ran his fingers along the length, in between your folds, pressing into your clit to watch you squirm again under him.

You sighed loudly, moans slipping out with your breathing as his contact with your heat felt like heaven, your head leaned back and hit the wall, but you didn’t care, you couldn’t feel it, you felt nothing but Leon’s fingers right now.

“Fuck, you’re so wet already,” He was breathing heavily, and you choked out a whimper when he slid one of his fingers in, and it wasn’t stopped with any friction. You also couldn’t believe how wet you were, but then again, you would jump hurdles to be able to suck his dick right here and now, so it must have gotten you worked up. “You feel so good around me.” He mumbled, practically groaned out, sliding in a second finger with ease, the slick sounds becoming louder as he worked you open, and while it felt so good, you just needed him to fuck you already.

“Leon…” You kept whining, unable to say anything else, mind fading, only wrapped around the feeling of him pleasuring you, fingering you, loosening you up for him. “Please, Leon…” You moved your hips, trying to signal to him to pull his fingers out, but he resisted, his hand following the movements of your hips, only going deeper, causing you to squeal when he went as far in as he could.

“Stay still, take it…” Now he pushed himself back against you, finding your lips again and kissing passionately, trapping his fingers inside you, and when you felt them move inside of you, you couldn’t help but squirm against him. His tongue caressed your lips, the inside of your mouth, and your tongue as he was so entwined in kissing you and in fingering you to the edge, his other hand gripping relentlessly at your ass.

After what felt like forever, he backed away, strings of saliva connecting your mouths, his eyes darker than ever, and you, breathing heavily, working to regain composure. He slid his fingers out, a small hiss escaping your lips with the emptiness.

“Fuck,” He sighed, and he looked back down in between you two. He adjusted his grip on your thigh and ass as he used his now free hand to line the tip of his cock up with your entrance, you felt a throb hit the core of your pussy at the mere sight, and you instinctively tightened when he teasingly dragged the tip along your lips, not giving you what he knew you wanted.

You sighed frustratingly, and couldn’t help it but to reach down and wrap your own hand around his dick. The sudden contact made him gasp, but he caught your hand and prevented you from piloting the moment.

“Just relax…” You didn’t need to look up to hear the smile painting his face, and as much as you wanted to protest, you knew he had the upper hand. This time. “You’ll get it, just be patient.” He drew a couple more lines into you, with your hand still trapped under his on his cock, which you could feel it throb every few seconds, and he finally pushed the tip into you.

You whimpered, whole body going slack, and you drew your hand back from his dick to find closure on his shoulder, steadying yourself as he slowly pushed himself all the way in. He had to stop every other second to collect himself as well, jaw tightened, hands gripping bruises into your hips and legs, a long, deep sigh once he was bottomed out.

He brought himself closer to you, relishing in the feeling of you being wrapped around him, unmoving, and he had his face in the crook of your neck, as if to ground himself from the feeling. Your body was shaking slightly, and you could barely breathe with his weight on top of you, but it all felt so good. His skin was slick, sweat coating anywhere that wasn’t exposed to the air, and your hands drawing deep scratches into his shoulder blades.

“Fuck, fuck…” You felt Leon’s lips moving against your throat, and his breath was hot, you could tell he was desperate to move inside of you, but he was still. “You’re so tight, god…” His lips moved up to place gentle kisses along your jawline, and your head rolled to the side to give him more access. He stayed there for a second, teeth grazing your skin, and after a while you were ready for him to start moving.

You picked your head up and turned sideways, forcing him to look directly at you, wasting no time in reconnecting your lips, and, while continuing to kiss you, he slowly slid out, and pushed himself back in.

The both of you were glued to each other as he continued to thrust in and out, your hands gripping impossibly hard on his shoulders, thighs shaking, breaths choppy. His eyes never left your face, he was watching your expressions so closely, you had no control over whatever was happening to you, you could barely breathe, you were so focused on the feeling that Leon was delivering, you simply ceased to acknowledge the setting you both were in.

“God, Leon…” You choked out in between gasps, head hitting the wall over and over, trying to helplessly grind your hips into his when he thrust up, but you had no energy to move against him. He took the initiative, and every time he would plunge into you, he would stay there for a beat longer, and make sure your previously ignored clit was getting the friction it needed, which made you whine even louder.

His breaths were so heavy, spitting out ‘Fuck’, and ‘Oh, shit’, and ‘So good’ every few seconds, letting his train of thought loose as he let himself go, and lost control of the pace.

One of his hands let go of your thigh, and it landed along your chin, forcing your head down to look into his eyes. “How does that feel, hm? So hard to move in you, so tight.” His voice was a broken mess, just breaths, essentially, but it was all you needed to spur you on.

You simply nodded, knowing the words were nowhere close to coming out right now. Even if you tried, it would be a mess of moans and gasps. You could feel him so deep inside of you, hitting that point to split you open, your pussy was endlessly wet, enough to fuel a whole round or two, and he let you know.

On another thrust, he pushed himself in and sat there for a moment, your moans spilling out without reserve, you both tensed as the unmistakable sound of the creaking door was heard.

Leon took his right hand, free from holding you up, and laced it over your mouth, silencing any sounds of pleasure that you had left in you.

You were both stiff, eyes wide, and he had his head swung in the direction of the noise. The footsteps approached the counter and turned the sink on. If they were to walk around the corner, they would see Leon’s legs under the door, and could have easily walked in, considering he didn’t shut it all the way, it was just stopped by his body behind it.

He slowly turned his head back to face you, you couldn’t move due to the weight of his hand, and you wanted to writhe under him so bad, feeling his cock throb still deep inside of you while you both were still. Tears were practically forming in your eyes.

He locked eyes with you, and without a sound, mouthed the words Be quiet.

He kept his hand clamped over your mouth, but he slowly adjusted your position so he could slide out of you at a snail’s pace. Your eyes widened in surprise, not expecting him to move, and you used all of your remaining energy to hold yourself together, being overcome by the pleasure while also staying conscious of the person who was still at the bathroom sink. You were glad there was still music playing outside in the bar, and the sink was still running, because if it were dead silent, they definitely would have been able to hear the wet sound of Leon pulling out, and fucking back in.

He held eye contact with you while he continued to do this, holding you so tightly to make sure nothing made any noise,and a devilish grin broke out onto his face. He was enjoying every second of this.

He was basically getting off on the idea of pushing you to your limit, forcing you to obey what he asked you to, even if it would benefit the both of you rather than just one. If Leon were shameless enough, he could have told them to fuck off, but instead, he held you here, silenced you, yet drove you to the fucking brink just to watch you fall apart. It made you want to cum right then and there.

After what felt like ten, twenty, thirty minutes (fifteen seconds), the sink shut off, a moment of silence, and the door creaked open again. Leon took his hand off your mouth and you both sighed deeply. While holding you still, Leon leaned back to look through the door to confirm you were alone once again.

“You were barely holding it together, I thought we were going to get caught.” He said on another thrust into you, bringing your faces closer once again. You swallowed hard, instinctively choking back moans now.

“Y-you… you were making it hard…” Gasps, again, as Leon was determined to make everything he asked of you difficult.

He brought himself closer into you, and spoke lowly. “Good,” With swift moves, his free hand was around your throat, holding your head back, and he was relentlessly bouncing you up and down on his cock.

The pressure around your throat and the pressure building in your core at his movements was all overwhelming, your hands were cutting crescents into his bicep from your nails, but he hardly took notice, he was so busy moving the both of you as well as keeping an eye on your face to watch how you were responding to his movements, he was too preoccupied.

The slick sounds coming from your pussy were evidence that the situation was much more of a stimulant than you ever expected, and the sound alone brought you so close to the edge.

“I bet you loved almost getting caught.” He groaned out, his movements stuttering, and you knew he must be close as well. “I bet it was driving you crazy, having to shut up while I gave it to you. You took it so well.” Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head, mouth open, you wouldn’t even be surprised if you were drooling at this point, Leon had all the power now.

“Leon,” You whispered, no energy for your full voice anymore. He understood.

“Take it, baby.” He thrust harder and harder, pressing you flat against the wall, the tip of his cock hitting all the deepest points. “I’m almost there, you feel so good.”

“Fuck, Leon,” If you could grasp any harder against his arms, you just did. “Fuck, I’m so close.”

“You got it, come on, cum for me.” He pressed his forehead into yours, grinding into you on the inward thrusts, making you fall apart in his arms. A few more thrusts, grinding a few more times, and a squeeze to your throat had you gasping in a silent scream around him, panting wildly letting your orgasm loose.

He fucked you all the way through it. “Shit, that felt so good, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” You watched him as he chased his own, sweat beads dripping down his face, his hair coated in it. His hips stuttered one more time, and as he released his seed into you, he buried his face into your neck, whimpering and biting again.

He pulled out of you, and it wasn’t missed by either of you the way his cum dripped out of you and onto the floor. You cracked a small smile when you heard him breathe a laugh.

“I’m sure that’s not the first time this bathroom has seen that.” He looked back up at you, breathing heavily, arms shaking from holding you up. You tapped his arms, hoping your legs were strong enough to stand on your own. He lowered you slowly, making sure you were stable before letting you go.

“I hope that’s what you wanted. I might have gotten ahead of myself.” He was still standing in front of you, neither of you made moves to leave the stall. You leaned against the wall for support.

“I would have stopped you a long time ago if it wasn’t, Leon.” He smiled down at you, breaths steadying out. He nodded his head.

“Coming to the house any time soon?”

You laughed out loud this time. “I’m sleeping over this weekend.”

He smiled wider at the sound of your laugh. He leaned in and kissed you again. “Can’t wait.”

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy fanfiction #resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #fanfiction #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil 4 #leon s kennedy #resident evil 2 #leon kennedy x reader smut #female reader

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bloodyserratus · 6 months

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intrusive thoughts

pairing: choso x fem!reader word count: 5.8k synopsis: yuji's getting married and you and choso are best man and woman. it's not your wedding though, so why do your hands keep ending up on each other? themes/warnings: SMUT! mdni, plot tho i was a smidge lazy about it, masturbation, piv intercourse, nipple play, nipple piercings!choso, sub-ish!choso, switchy reader, friends to lovers.

a/n: oof. i feel like this is a bit rushed, but he caught me on an ovulation week ig. would love to know what you think!

“YN!!”

Yuji’s familiar voice shouts your name before you can even reach the host stand. You smiled apologetically to the hostess before making your way towards him.

“Yu-ji, Yu-ji!” you hop excitedly towards the young man until you can wrap him up in a tight hug. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you! Thank you for inviting me to dinner.”

“Of course!” Yuji beamed back at you.

You glanced at the table and were surprised to see how many place settings there were. You seemed to have been the first to arrive and you wondered who all he had invited. The seats filled with Yuji’s friends one by one. Megumi and Nobara were familiar names and it was nice to finally match a face to them. You watched Yuji with curiosity, noticing that he seemed to be buzzing with a sort of unusual energy. Nerves, maybe, but you’d never known Yuji to be a particularly nervous person.

A shadow fell over you as you watched Yuji converse excitedly with his coworkers. You glanced up and did a double take when you realized it was Yuji’s older brother, Choso, standing over you.

“Oh shit,” you chuckled, squinting up at him. “Something big’s going on, huh?”

It had been many a year since Yuji had summoned both you and Choso together. Not because you didn’t get along or anything, but because your lives had simply taken you in different paths. Your work had moved you an hour from the city and so occasions where all three of you were together had grown increasingly rare.

Choso took the empty seat across from you and watched as your eyes flitted to his younger brother with suspicion. He was surprised at the sense of familiarity and comfort he felt seeing you, despite it having been probably two to three years.

Choso wondered how your parents were. You’d grown up as neighbors and your parents had welcomed Choso and Yuji as practically their own. While other adults whispered nasty things about their absentee parents, yours had shared nothing but care and kindness.

“Ay ay!” Yuji stood up suddenly, lifting a glass ceremoniously. “Thank you everyone for coming! I know it’s tough to get a big group like this together typically, so I appreciate you all making the time today.”

“As you can probably guess…I have an announcement to make,” Yuji continued, “So let's just get that out of the way.”

The woman next to him stood up and placed her hand in his.

“Yuko and I are engaged!” Yuji announced loudly.

You gasped, jaw dropping. Your eyes darted to Choso, filled with excitement. You'd met Yuko once when she and Yuji had first started dating. Granted it had been years, but time really flies! You looked on happily as the group tittered and got their questions answered.

When had this happened? Had they set a date? Would it be destination or local?

“Did you know?” you kicked Choso under the table.

“I knew he'd been planning,” he answered calmly.

“I can't believe it,” you pressed your palms to your cheeks. “I remember when they just started dating.”

“You don't get back here nearly enough,” Choso commented behind a sip of water.

“I know,” your face creased with guilt and your cheeks heated up.

Choso smiled. You still couldn't seem to tell when he was just teasing you.

“What do you think? This is a big deal,” you asked.

“Yuko’s a great girl. I think they make a lot of sense together.”

“That's great. If Yuji’s happy, I'm happy,” you grinned.

Choso nodded. He couldn't agree more. His eyes softened at the corners as he watched you. You were watching Yuji with such a fond expression.

You looked on as Yuko, Yuji, and his friends chatted excitedly. You were older and not quite a part of the friend group, so it was easy to sit back and observe. It was sweet to see the way that Yuji folded Yuko seamlessly in with his friends. They were clearly a tight knit group.

“What’s up with you these days?” Choso interrupted your quiet observations.

“Not too much, to be honest. Working at the same company. Switched roles, but mostly things are the same. You?”

“You know me. Sucking blood from kids,” he shrugged.

“Can you-?” you rolled your eyes so far back into your head that all he saw were the whites. “Must you say it like that?”

Choso was a phlebotomist at the children’s hospital. A perfect respectable career, but the way he chose to describe it was still the weirdest ever. Still it paid well and the schedule was reasonable. Choso was still giggling to himself when Yuko and Yuji appeared at your side.

“YN?” Yuji approached.

“Yeah?” you turned to the two with a smile.

“I-I…I have a favor to ask,” Yuko looked at you nervously.

“What is it?”

“Um…I don’t have much family left. I-, um. Would you be willing to help me with the wedding planning?”

“Oh!” your eyes widened as you processed the ask. “Yuko, of course! I’m so honored you asked! Thank you!”

“Thank you so much!” Yuko grabbed your hands excitedly and Yuji let out a sigh of relief.

Choso watched as you and Yuko exchanged phone numbers and made plans to meet up. He wondered if you still had the same phone number.

Your phone lit up with a message as you pulled into your apartment’s parking lot. The contact was saved as a string of emojis, so you didn’t immediately recall who it was.

[⛓️👿♟️]: ‘is this still your #?”

[yn]: ‘who is this?’

[⛓️👿♟️]: ‘...rude’

[yn]: ‘????’

[⛓️👿♟️]: ‘it’s choso’

[yn]: ‘ohhhhhhhhhh! i must’ve saved you as these emojis ages ago. my bad!’

[⛓️👿♟️]: ‘what are my emojis?? 👀’

[yn]: ‘⛓️👿♟️’

[⛓️👿♟️]: ‘plz change those. 😑’

[yn]: ‘LOL don’t judge! those are from high school’

[yn:] ‘updated!’

[💉🩸]: ‘👀’

[yn]: ‘💉🩸’

[💉🩸]: ‘🥹 please’

[yn]: ‘not taking constructive criticism. good night’

[💉🩸]: ‘so mean’

You laughed, slipping your phone back into your pocket and gathering your things. You thought as you took the elevator upstairs. Once upon a time, you, Choso, and Yuji had been much closer. You’d been neighbors since you’d been born, but you hadn’t grown close until late middle school. Choso’s mother had fallen ill and then after her passing, their father, Ken, faded into absenteeism. Your parents had been unable to do anything other than welcome them in as their own. Afternoon’s and evenings were quickly filled with Choso and Yuji and the three of you became a reliable trio.

It was nice to see Choso. He had a few more years on him and it suited him.

…

You might have regretted saying yes to Yuko’s favor.

Not that you would've made a different decision, but more like you would've bought a wheelchair so that you could make Choso and Yuji push you around. Because of your limited availability, weekends had been packed with venue tours, dress fittings, and even a color analysis appointment for the four of you to help Yuko and Yuji decide on a color scheme. Nearly four hours just to learn that dark jewel tones suited you and Choso best.

You exhaled sharply, trying to keep up with Choso’s long strides. Today was maid of honor’s dress and best man’s tux trying day.

“Wait up. I got little legs!” you joked, tugging on Choso’s sweatshirt.

“Oh, sorry,” he chuckled goodnaturedly. “Was lost in thought.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” you teased, reaching up to tap him gently on the forehead.

Choso’s brow furrowed imperceptibly and he blinked down at you. He felt somehow flustered at your teasing.

“Come on!” you grabbed his hand absentmindedly and tugged him into the dress store.

“Hello!” the front desk attendant greeted you. “YN?”

“Yes! We made an appointment for nine thirty?”

“Welcome welcome! My name is May, let me show you to the fitting room,” she gestured to follow her. “We already received some notes from Yuko that we are going for jewel tones, so we’ve pulled out a handful of styles and colors to try and point us in viable directions.”

“Great!” you smiled, dropping your bag onto the couch before moving to the fitting room.

“And mister boyfriend or husband?” May turned to address Choso, “May I get you anything to drink?”

“Who?” Choso looked around. “Me?”

“Yes,” May smiled patiently.

“Water would be fine,” he answered. He must’ve misheard her.

“I’ll be right back!” she clapped her hands together sharply.

“Ooh, I love this color, but not the style,” you thought aloud as you emerged from the fitting room.

Choso agreed. As he had learned from the color analysis class, this color brought out a certain glow in your face.

You did a quick 360 for him before retreating back into the fitting room. May returned with water before you came back out with the second dress on. This one was much more suited to your shape, but the sleeves left something to be desired. A series of dresses were tried and shown to May and Choso before you tried one on that really dropped your jaw.

“You okay in there?” Choso’s deep voice checked in on you as you admired yourself.

“Yeah, I’ll be right out!” you called back, checking out the back one more time before opening the door.

“Wow…,” May’s hands came to cover her mouth with delight.

Shit. Choso sat up straight.

“I love this one,” you smiled at both May and Choso.

He nodded.

“That’s the one?” May asked kindly. “There’s absolutely no rush, so don’t feel shy about trying more on.”

“Ah, I suppose I should try a few more on, huh?” you nodded before spinning one more time in front of the trifold mirrors. This one would be hard to beat.

“Oh! I forgot! Are we taking pictures to send to the bride and groom? Or do we have full creative control today?”

“Ah shit!” you burst back out of the fitting room, holding the unzipped dress up to your chest. “We do need to take photos for Yuko. Choso, can you?” you looked toward him.

“Oh, yes, hold on,” Choso stood.

May helped to zip you back up while he searched through his pockets for his phone. He crouched back down a bit to center you in the frame and you gave him a bright smile, posing slightly. He gave you a curt nod when he was satisfied. This process repeated itself several times until you had about seven viable dress options and Choso had a veritable deck of photos in his phone for Yuko.

Then it was Choso’s turn.

“Phew! I’m glad to be back in my leggings,” you chuckled, flopping down on the couch.

“Wow, you are broad!” May remarked as she took Choso’s shoulder measurements.

Choso flushed at her comment as she moved expeditiously to his waist and then inseam.

“Are you even real?” she joked noting his shoulder to waist ratio. “Built like a Dorito chip.”

You snorted at this comment. May was kind of out of pocket and you loved it. You covered your mouth to try and hide your giggles. Choso had always been easy to fluster and apparently that hadn’t changed. Pink spread across the scrunch in his nose and crept up the tips of his ears. Despite his somewhat intimidating appearance, he was honestly adorable.

“Stop,” he whined while May pulled suits for him.

“Sorry, but that was funny,” you smiled apologetically at him, straightening your face.

“I’m not built like a Dorito!” he insisted.

“You kind of are though,” your eyes roved over him.

“You really are,” May echoed as she came back into the room with a handful of suits. “I’m gonna tell you now, we’ll need to tailor these. So I fitted to your shoulders and then we’ll pin the waist to get a sense of things now.”

Choso nodded, accepting the stack from May and retreating into the fitting room.

“So how long have you two been together?” May asked as you waited for him to emerge.

“Hm?” you looked up from your phone, “How long have we known each other? Since forever, I guess. We were neighbors growing up.”

“Ah, so you started dating more recently?”

You spat out your water.

“What?!” you looked at her with alarm. “We’re not-, what gave you that idea?”

“No?” May raised an eyebrow, giving it more serious thought. “You two look good together. It’s a vibe, I don’t know!”

Choso stepped out of the dressing room at this moment, eyebrows raised at the conversation he’d walked into.

“Oh!” your eyes widened, giving him a once over. He’d stepped out in a black suit with a deep purple dress shirt and black bow tie.

“What do you think?” he looked at you expectantly.

“You look good, man,” you nodded. “That color lady was right. Amethysty purple looks good on you too.”

“How’s the fit?” May asked, stepping towards him. “Do you have a comfortable range of motion in the arms? That’s usually the key point for suits.”

Choso moved his arms around, rotating fully above his head a few times and swinging his arms forward and backwards a few times. You couldn’t help but notice the way the shirt strained at his chest as he did so, buttons looking as if they might pop at any moment.

“It looks tight,” you couldn’t help but comment.

“It is a little,” Choso nodded, “Can we go up one size, May?”

“Sure thing!” May nodded, leaving again to grab more options.

“What do you think?” you asked behind him, watching his reflection in the mirror. “Do you want to go black suit and color dress shirt? Or do want to go color suit and black dress shirt?”

“I don’t know,” Choso shrugged, meeting your gaze in the mirror as he started to undo buttons. “I’ll try both, but I don’t really care either way. You tell me if you have a strong preference.”

“Okay,” you nodded, eyes glued to his fingers making quick work of the row of buttons.

“Whoo! Free show!” May remarked when she walked back in, quickly noting Choso’s now half exposed chest. “Here’s round two.”

“Thanks,” Choso chuckled bashfully. He was getting more accustomed to May’s bright personality.

May made a show of fanning herself as he stepped back into the fitting room. You laughed.

“I’m gonna try on the purple suit this time,” Choso called over the door.

“Sure!” you nodded.

“Okay, definitely not this,” he shook his head as he stepped out.

You had to agree. The large swath of purple was somehow…Wonkian. With a quick nod from May, Choso retreated once again, this time emerging with the black suit and purple shirt again.

“How’s that feel for sizing?”

“Good, but loose around the waist.”

“Ah yes, but that’s easily addressed,” May nodded, stepping behind him to pull darts into the shirt expertly. Like magic, the silhouette of the shirt tucked into a neat V.

“Come hold this please, YN?” she jerked her head at you. “I need to grab my safety pins.”

You nodded and grabbed the sections of fabric from May.

“This looks good,” you popped your head out from around him to remark.

Choso nodded. Your knuckles rested against the small of his back as you looked up at him. His skin prickled in a way that wasn't totally unpleasant.

“How was work this week?” you asked with a smile.

“Good,” he nodded. “Pretty busy but we were actually fully staffed, for once. You?”

“Not too bad! I'm between projects right now, so it was a fairly quiet week.”

“How is Yuji feeling about the wedding? Overwhelmed at all?”

“He seems fine,” Choso smiled.

You chuckled. That was typical, you supposed.

“Yuko seems a little overwhelmed sometimes.”

“I think so,” you nodded. “I get a panic text from her every so often. It's not too bad, just a lot of things to think about.”

Choso’s eyebrows furrowed.

“I'll talk to Yuji. If Yuko is feeling overwhelmed, he should step in and help.”

You looked at Choso with interest. Characteristically reliable.

“Found the pins!” May burst back in. “Sorry it took so long!”

“No problem,” you and Choso answered in unison.

You allowed May to pin the fabric of his shirt and Choso found himself missing your closeness when you stepped back.

“What do we think?”

“Good,” Choso nodded, tugging the suit jacket into place. “Is this color close enough to your dress?” he glanced at you.

“Oh yes, I think so,” May nodded, pulling the final dress selection out to compare.

“Then I think I'm all good,” he nodded surely.

You sent the pictures of Choso’s suit to Yuko as he changed back into his crew neck sweater and cargo pants. That was the Choso you were used to.

“Should we eat?” he smiled crookedly at you, reaching a hand out to pull you up.

“Sure!”

“I know a place,” he nodded, so you followed his lead.

…

You beamed at Choso excitedly. Cake tasting day!

“Excited?” he crossed his arms and cocked his head at you.

“Very! It's cake day!” you grinned goofily up at him.

“That it is,” he chuckled, glancing around for Yuji and Yuko. “I wonder where they are.”

“Will you call them? I'll go check in for the appointment at least.”

Choso nodded and you split up.

“Hello!” you greeted the front desk as you stepped in the door. “We have a ten-thirty appointment, but our bride and groom seem to be running a bit late.”

“Not to worry,” the receptionist smiled kindly at you.

“What's the word?” you asked Choso when he stepped inside.

“How do I, uh,” Choso flushed across the cheeks. “They're young and in love…and lost track of time. So they are going to be quite late. They think thirty minutes.”

“Oh dear,” your eyes widened and you looked towards the receptionist apologetically. “What should we do? I assume you're booked out quite a ways.”

“Yes,” she nodded regretfully. “If the two of you would like to proceed with the tasting and take notes for the bride and groom, I would recommend that as the best way to proceed.”

“Yes, that makes sense,” Choso nodded, “I am terribly sorry about this.”

“That's quite alright!” she smiled generously, “You’d be surprised that that's not the first time that's happened.”

You exchanged a surprised glance with Choso.

“Personally I’d love to be late because I was getting my back blown out instead of my usual reason, which is just poor planning.”

“Hah!” you let out a loud laugh at her remark, “Same, friend. While I am very happy for the bride and groom, all this wedding stuff is making me feel so single.”

Choso’s eyebrows raised with surprise.

“Hello my beautiful bride and groom!” a chef entered the room enthusiastically.

“Oh no, we're not,” you waved your hands at him.

“The bride and groom are running late so we will be taking notes for them,” Choso added.

“Ah, I see. Well when you are ready for your own wedding I hope you come back to see us!”

You and Choso both nodded goodnaturedly which seemed to satisfy the man, so he proceeded with cake samples. Yuko and Yuji had already decided on shape and tiers, so all you needed to do was provide input on flavors. You were grateful that the bakery had provided templates to take notes on because there seemed to be no end to the flavors you were shown.

“I think I hate cake now,” you mumbled to Choso at the end of it.

“Agreed. If I don't eat cake again until the wedding, I'd be just fine.”

You smiled at him.

“Oh you have some cake,” he gestured to his own mouth.

“Oh!” you licked your lips again and reached for a napkin.

“Here, let me,” Choso moved to brush the smudge off himself.

You didn't know what happened and neither did he, but at the end of the day Choso’s thumb slid into your mouth and your tongue had wrapped itself readily around it. Wide eyes met and you made a noise of confusion. Muffled by his large thumb, it sounded more akin to a moan.

Choso’s heart stopped for a moment. He was panicking but also frozen, staring at your lips pursed around his digit. Your mouth was wet and warm and he felt strongly that this was something that should have remained unknown to him. Then the friction of your tongue against the pad of his fingertip sent a jolt of adrenaline through him.

“Shit, I-,” he finally unfroze and pulled his hand back. “I didn't mean-.”

“Me neither,” you shook your head furiously. You were still hot with embarrassment when the receptionist came in to tie things up with you.

Awkward silence lingered over you when you and Choso left. Your goodbye was short and thoughts of his fingers plagued your mind as you drove back home.

…

Choso turned onto his stomach again. He couldn't sleep. Couldn't do much after what had happened today. Not because it was something he felt you couldn't recover from.

No, it was the want. It had settled in the pit of his stomach like a heavy weight and ignoring it wasn't helping at all.

“Fuck,” he huffed, hips grinding into the mattress. The friction was a welcome relief from the pulsating throb he’d been doing his best to ignore.

“Oh,” he exhaled sharply as he picked up the pace. He dragged his length across the soft, microfiber sheets and pictured your cheeks hollowing as you sucked around him.

He let out a ragged whine and flipped onto his back again. It wasn't enough. He propped himself up on his pillows and reached into his waistband. He cupped himself and reached for his phone. He flipped to the pictures of you saved there and zoomed in on your face. Whatever guilt he had was quickly pushed away to make room for his wild arousal. He wrapped his long fingers around himself and pumped his hips up into his fist

“YN,” your name fell from his lips repeatedly as he thrust up into his fist. His brow knotted and sweat beaded on his nose as he sought some form of relief.

…

You stared into the dark void of your room as you traced the shape of your lips. Memories of earlier replayed in your mind. The sensation of Choso’s thumb sliding across your lower lip. The friction of the pad pressing against your tongue. The wet ‘pop’ that sounded when he’d pulled back, panicked. You groaned, turning on your side and pressing your thighs together. Sadly it did not settle the throbbing, but it did offer some minor relief.

“Ah fuck it,” you sighed, reaching into the top draw of your nightstand. You fished around for your trusty, purple vibrator and settled into the pillows so you could get this out of your system.

You did your best not to think of Choso. Well…you made an attempt.

But as soon as you closed your eyes, your mind flooded with images of Choso. Over you, supporting himself with his muscular arms as his eyes bored into. Under you, whimpering and moaning prettily, his face flushed from sensation. Kissing your neck from behind as his hands squeezed your hips.

You squeaked as the vibrator buzzed to live and you trailed it along your inner thighs. You wondered briefly how Choso might react to it being used on him and you gushed at the thought. He was so expressive…it would be so fun to just ruin him.

“Shit!?” you gasped, eyes opening as an orgasm rolled through you unexpectedly. You blinked in surprise. It usually took you much longer than that.

You contemplated for a moment while you still had post-orgasmic clarity. As someone who didn’t tend towards topping, it was surprising to feel so attracted and aroused by the idea of doing so to Choso. The idea of pressing your fingers in his mouth quickly pushed the clarity away. Imagining his soft, wet pants through your wet, slick fingers instead sent you straight down the path of unbridled madness instead.

…

“Hey!” you smiled when you saw Choso’s tall figure round the corner.

“Hey,” he smiled lazily. “Ready?”

“Yep,” you nodded, pretending as if you hadn’t spent several nights out of the last week fantasizing about this man.

You stepped into the bridal store with him. It was time for the tailored fittings. May handed you your respective garments and you both stepped into separate fitting rooms. The tailored dress fit like a glove. You smiled with delight as you spun around, getting a sense of the back.

“I love it!” you grinned at May when you stepped out. Her face lit up with delight, giving you a once over.

“You look amazing, holy shit!” she remarked.

Choso’s ears pricked, listening to you and May titter excitedly about the dress. He couldn’t wait to see you. He hurried about tucking the dress shirt into his pants and then tugging on the jacket before he stepped out to join you.

“Oh,” you breathed softly when you saw him.

He looked incredible. The suit really emphasized his broad shoulders and narrow waist. The dark purple color contrasted nicely against his skin and emphasized his eyes.

“This looks great,” you murmured, stepping forward to run your hands over the lapels. The material looked so soft.

“Ssh!” Choso jerked as if he’d been hit and you pulled back quickly.

“What?” you asked, eyebrows creased with worry.

“No, sorry,” he smiled apologetically at you. “It just took me by surprise. You grazed my piercings.”

“Piercings?” you cocked your head, staring at his chest with confusion. Heat crept up your neck and cheeks as you realized…where the piercings were.

Choso looked away, blushing too, at your realization.

“Sorry, I didn’t know,” you blinked up at him. “Can I-, um,” your hands reached out of their own accord. What the fuck were you even asking?!

“Oh, uh…,” Choso blinked. His brain wasn’t fully functioning but he knew he wanted your hands on him again. “Yeah,” he swallowed loudly.

You stepped towards him, unable to meet his eyes. You slipped your hands under his lapels and slid them across his chest. Your fingers splayed and traced over his ribcage, his toned torso, and up to his pecs. You could feel the way his chest expanded and contracted with each breath.

Choso watched you as your hands roamed. You wouldn’t look at him, but your hands explored him greedily. His breaths were shallow as your fingertips searched out his piercings. An exhale hitched in his throat when they finally met. Your fingertips were gentle as they traced the beads. He bit back a moan as your fingertips brushed against his nipples, feeling the flesh around the bar, through the fabric of his shirt. It was difficult to ignore the way he was straining against his slacks.

“Choso,” you exhaled breathlessly and looked up at him. His face was red and his brow was scrunched up.

“I-, oh?” May walked in, pausing suddenly at your proximity.

“Ah, hi May!” you turned quickly to face her.

“Hello! How are we doing in here?” she asked, eyes flitting between you and Choso slowly.

“Good,” you nodded.

“Everything fits well?”

“Yes,” Choso nodded. He was eager to wrap this up so that he could discuss what had just occurred with you.

“Wonderful!” May smiled. “Well then you can get changed back into your street clothes. Yuko requested that we hold onto the entire party’s dresses and suits until the day of the event, so they will be here.”

“Sounds good,” you nodded.

You ducked back into the dressing room and tried to get a grip. What the hell had you been thinking? You needed to eat some grass. You shook your head as you changed back into your casual clothes. You waited for a moment or two, but then wondered if he had left already. Shrugging, you supposed that you didn’t need to wait for him and so stepped outside.

“Hey,” he scared the living daylights out of you as you walked by, checking messages on your phone.

“Shit, hey,” you hissed at him with surprise.

“Should we talk?” he looked down at you, arms crossed over his broad chest.

“We should,” you nodded, “But I’m nervous.”

“What for?” he asked with a soft smile.

You supposed that was a good question. This was Choso after all.

“I just,” you huffed, “Not sure I have an explanation.”

Choso stepped forward, bringing himself toe to toe with you. He lowered his face to yours before he spoke again.

“You like me?”

You contemplated for a moment before relenting. Of course you did.

“Yes,” you met his gaze, lips nearly grazing his now.

“Would you like to act on it?”

You didn’t have to think too hard about this one.

“Yes,” you nodded.

Choso grinned and placed his hands around your waist, pulling you flush against him. He lowered his lips against yours and kissed you enthusiastically.

“I’ll be honest. You got me fired up in there,” he chuckled against your lips. “But I don’t need to go fast if you’re not ready.”

“It’s okay,” you smiled against his lips. Choso was so respectful. “You got me bad.”

“Did you drive?” he asked.

You shook your head.

“Want to come to mine?” he suggested.

You nodded and he led you to his car.

Your bodies were a jumble after he managed to unlock his door. You kissed along his jaw, down his neck, and nipped at his collarbone as he backed you towards his bedroom. You let your hands roam freely this time, tracing the flexing lines of his muscles eagerly. What the hell was he hiding under there?

As if he’d read your mind, Choso leaned back for a moment and pulled his shirt off over his head. Your mouth fell open with surprise. Your eyes traced from his face, over his shoulders, down the sides of his torso, and landed on the dusting of hair below his belly button.

“What the fuck?” you brought your hands to your mouth. “You look like that?!” you nearly shouted at him.

“What?” he shrugged, having the audacity to be shy.

“Lay down, please,” you insisted, grabbing him and pushing him onto the bed. A body like that really did deserve to be worshiped.

You held yourself up over him and pressed a soft kiss against his chest. Choso beamed at you before you blazed a trail down his torso. You placed kisses across his jaw, down his neck, and into his collarbone. You bit gently on his full pec and paused just before his nipple.

“Is it okay?” you looked pointedly at him.

“Yes!” he nodded furiously. He was aching for you.

“Hm!” you hummed with delight and lowered your mouth to him. Your tongue rolled over the piercing, savoring the new sensation.

Choso squeezed his eyes shut as you tongued his sensitive nipple. Sweat was beading up on his nose and brow as you, knowingly or not, tortured him, pulling loud and strangled moans out of him. His large hands found purchase on your hips where you straddled him and he bucked up desperately against you, needing some sort of friction or relief.

You shivered slightly when you unlatched your mouth. It was surprising how much the sounds of Choso’s moans spurred you on.

“You. Are. So. Gorgeous.” you spoke as you placed more kisses against his serratus, lats, and abs. You nuzzled your nose against his happy trail as you pulled his sweatpants down over his hips.

Choso groaned when you grasped him at the base. You kissed your way up the underside before swallowing him into your wet, warm mouth. He was big. Your lips stretched around his girth as you sucked up and down his veiny length.

“Enough,” you were surprised when he pulled you off of him. “I need to be inside of you,” he explained.

You nodded, making quick work of your clothes. You climbed back on top of him and he positioned himself against your wet lips, spreading you apart with his fat head. You rested your forearms on his shoulders as you worked your hips, coating the dark head of his cock with your juices.

“Shitttt,” Choso groaned, deep and throaty as you teased him. “Please, I need more,” he begged.

“Yes,” you answered him simply and lowered yourself onto him completely. You moaned contentedly as he stretched you out.

Choso gripped your hips, helping as you bounced up and down his shaft. His eyes glazed over watching his cock disappear repeatedly into your juicy cunt and his hands gripped you so hard that they might bruise. He tugged you down over and over again, ramming himself into you deep and hard.

“Choso, baby,” you gasped, hands in his hair now for support as he fucked you. “I’m close. I’m so close, baby.”

Choso grinned at 'baby' and nodded, keeping the pace as your orgasm crashed through you. He found himself marveling at how gorgeous you looked as you came apart, bouncing on his cock for him.

“You good?” he asked as you recovered, still lodged deep inside of you.

“Really good,” you smiled at him, skin glowing with sweat. An idea popped into your head suddenly. “What are the chances you have a vibrator?” you asked coyly.

“Why?” he regarded you with suspicion.

“No reason,” you giggled, tracing his nipples with your fingertips gently. You were rewarded by a twitch of his cock, which was all the confirmation you needed.

“I don’t have one, sadly,” he shook his head, shuddering as you continued in little semicircles over his nipples. Your hips followed shortly, grinding against him and Choso’s breathing developed into ragged whimpers and moans.

“That’s okay,” you lapped at his other nipple with your tongue as his face got redder and redder.

“Fuckkk,” he cursed, high pitched and desperate as he grew somehow harder inside of you.

You increased speed slightly, circles tighter and faster against his pert nipples as you bounced on top of him. Choso buried his face into your neck before letting out a loud groan. He held you down on him, releasing deep inside with a few heavy twitches.

“Next time, come to mine,” you smiled mischievously at him. “I do have a vibrator.”

Choso let out a genuine chuckle before pulling you into his chest in a warm hug.

“Deal.”

#choso smut #choso x reader #choso fanfic #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfic #choso imagine #jjk imagine #choso fluff #serrated writing

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caligvlasaqvarivm · 4 months

Note

Wanted to ask, is Eridan's relationship with his dad ok? Like when Eridan was learning how to use his harpoon gun he seemed very much distressed and not enjoying any of it

The only real canon characterization we have of seahorsedad is that the version of him that's Cronus's lusus is "stern, fatherly" and that he ditches Cronus for Hussie, although that last one is mostly just a Bit so I don't really count it as characterization. He's also willing to go along with Eridan "doing something ridiculous," though, again, that's kind of a Bit and it's unclear how canon that is.

((cw for abuse and stuff beneath the readmore))

As such, pretty much anything I say is going to be pure extrapolation that serves my characterization of Eridan, and I can't really back it up with hard textual evidence. But, personally, I think Eridan believes his relationship with his lusus is "good" in the way that many children growing up beneath strict, emotionally neglectful, and even outright abusive parents do.

We know that Eridan has very few friends. He doesn't even really talk to half the people in their group chat, and according to Feferi, he's never spent more than a few days underwater, total, in his whole life. Add onto that that lusus murder (and, by extension, the culling of the orphaned troll) has been his duty long enough that he describes it is "the only thing i evver did," I think it's a reasonable assumption to make that he also has no IRL friends, aside from Feferi.

And to give an idea of how old Eridan was when he started having to murder lusii, here's how old Vriska was when she was expected to start feeding spidermom:

This, and the fact that Dualscar was called "Orphaner" because the job of feeding Gl'bgolyb was his even into adulthood (as he lived before the Summoner's rebellion and the removal of adult trolls from Alternia), and the fact that no one, including Feferi, ever shows any gratitude towards Eridan for performing the job, supports the idea that feeding Gl'bgolyb has always been a violet blood's responsibility. After all, Feferi makes overtures about not being better than other trolls, but she sure does revel in being royalty when she can get away with it. It'd be in character for her to not be particularly grateful to Eridan because she sees lusus murder as fundamentally being his responsibility, especially if he started when they were both REALLY young.

In other words, Eridan was expected to start murdering lusii (and by extension, other trolls) from the moment he was old enough to do so, which, judging by how old Vriska was when she started killing trolls for Spidermom, is not very old at all.

Also, given the lifespan of violet bloods, it's entirely possible - and my personal belief - that Seahorsedad was Dualscar's lusus as well as Eridan's. Even without that being the case, since it was always Eridan's job to hunt and kill lusii, the biggest possible culprit for inducting him into his role would be his lusus.

And let's be clear, I think the fact that having to murder lusii/trolls is the biggest culprit for what's fucked Eridan up the most. The pressure of having the safety of the entire race on his shoulders, the fear of Gl'bgolyb and what happens if he ever fails, and the guilt of taking lives (which we do know Eridan thinks about) have left him with genuine struggles caring about other people, a nasty martyr complex (which isn't unjustified), extremely unstable and negative emotions, shattered interpersonal relationships, and a deep, nihilistic sense of resignation towards his place in society. The latter has directly led to him attempting to embrace that place by tricking himself into thinking he believes in hemocasteist, sea dweller supremacy rhetoric - which his actions contradict - because, without the game's intervention, he had no other options available for him but to become a key figure in the imperial army, continue murdering other sapient creatures until he died, and watch all his few friends die before him, either when they got culled, killed on the battlefield, or purely dropped dead of old age.

And, like... a parent who does that to their child, even if we assume the absolute best (that Seahorsedad does genuinely care about Eridan), can't possibly have a fully healthy relationship with said child. And I think it's not unreasonable to assume that the best is not what's happening between Eridan and Seahorsedad, because Eridan's psychological profile is so fucked up that I highly doubt he was receiving much, if any, actual affection or support from his lusus. Personally, I think his lusus was "stern and fatherly" in the worst possible way - high expectations, no emotional warmth, and complete disregard for Eridan's psychological well-being, as long as he was producing adequate results.

Because Eridan craves attention, and has very little distinction between good and bad attention. He's naive and trusting to a fault, hardly ever suspects anybody of lying to him, and has basically no social skills. These all say to me that Seahorsedad is just, like... not giving him any emotional attention at ALL.

And poor Eridan is just 13 years old - still too young to fully realize how poorly he's being treated by people who are supposed to care about him. Like, yeah, he's completely obnoxious and exhausting to talk to, and you can't really blame Feferi or Kanaya for being sick of listening to him, but at the same time, some of the shit they do to him as a result is honestly just mean. Like Kanaya is just actually bullying him- training him up to be a wizard as a joke, shitting on him behind his back with Rose, making fun of him to his face - and yet:

He's just that fucking desperate for people to care about him and support him; I can't help but think he's just not getting that at home, you know?

So I think if you asked Eridan, he'd say that his relationship with his lusus was good, and that his lusus was proud and noble and stoic, and absolutely a great custodian, and there were no problems at all.

But I think if you were to dig deeper into their relationship, you'd start to hear worrying things like that Eridan never got to celebrate Twelfth Perigrees, and was instead dragged out to go lusus hunting because it was particularly easy to do so on that day. Or that his lusus had to pull the trigger FOR him the first time they ever went hunting, because his own hands were shaking too hard. Or that he'd be locked out of the hive every time he cried, until he stopped crying altogether. Or that he thinks he's never been sick a day in his life because he was never allowed to have an off day and not go hunting and now he's just used to ignoring any and all symptoms. So on and so forth.

He reacts EXTREMELY POORLY to Feferi saying she feels like she needed to look after him - more poorly than to the initial news that she was trying to break up with him:

And I think that's because weakness was punished in his household growing up. He wasn't allowed to be weak - he was nobility, royalty. He had duties, responsibilities. If he faltered, their whole race died. And when you consider the fact that "you have to kill things for the good of everyone you care about, all the time, constantly," is the abject lesson that's been hammered into him since he was old enough to walk and talk, the fact that he's so incredibly fucking adamant about murdering angels starts to be a little... sad. He's just stuck in that mindset. He doesn't know how to escape it.

So... yeah. In summary: his relationship with his dad is great!

#homestuck #eridan ampora

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pinguwrites · 6 months

Note

more dark!reader with dilf!cillian who slowly accepts reader's tendencies🥹 it made me feel things

right away

Sweet, Little Girl | Cillian Murphy

Pairing -> cillian murphy x dark!reader

Summary -> You're Cillian Murphy's next door neighbor. You're young and innocent, and he's an attractive older man—surely he must be the one taking advantage of you . . . right?

Word count: 1k

Warnings: sexual content, DARK!!, MENTION OF DRUGGING AND RAPE, sub!cillian & dom!reader undertones, age-gap (reader's early twenties, cillian's early forties, cillian knew reader when she was underage but relationship started way after), use little girl/sir nickname, mention of daddy nickname, mention of marriage, reader's manipulative, pregnancy, mention of breeding

Disclaimer: This is not a reflection of Cillian Murphy's actual life. This is completely separate and is not intended to harm him or his family in any way. DNI if you're a Yvonne hater. This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

A/N: This is basically a part two to that first cillian fic

Cillian Murphy loved you, that much he knew. It didn’t matter what you did to him, how possessive you behaved, how cruel your love was, how wrong the things you did were; he loved you till he couldn’t, as strong as waves in a storm at sea, as bright and passionate as the sun’s unrelenting gaze. You were like a rose with thorns. As long as he had you, it was okay if he bled. After all, you would be there to patch him up — you always were.

“You won’t ever leave me, right?” you asked, curling up beside him in bed. Your face was illuminated by the moonlight, streaming in through the window, and he couldn’t help but admire you. Beautiful, beautiful thing.

“Never,” he murmured. “I don’t even want to think about that. I’m yours. And you’re mine.”

Cillian knew your relationship was unacceptable. He'd known you since you were a teenager. You were that darling sweetheart who lived next door, mature and thoughtful, the type that would listen to him monologue about his passion for acting, the one who would in turn trust him with her deepest, darkest secrets.

But you were an adult now. You were capable of making your own decisions, and you choose to be with him. Was it so wrong then?

"That's what I like to hear," you said, taking in a whiff of his scent, like you always did. Something about his cologne, you had explained. "And you're still okay with marriage, yeah?"

"Of course." Cillian leaned over and gave you a kiss on the nose. "I'll get to call you my wife." He lips trailed down to your own, his tongue sweeping over your skin. He wanted to touch you, to feel you, to have your body against his and show you how much you meant to him.

His breathing hitched when you hand reached down under the blanket to squeeze his cock. Only briefly, before you let go, like you hadn't done it at all.

"I'm glad you came to your senses," you said. "You were crying the first time we had sex."

The memory came back to him. He hadn't wanted to make you upset, but it was all just too much for him. You were milking him to the point where he wasn't sure if he had anything left to give, and he just couldn't handle it, his mind still hazed from the drugs. He wasn't sure if it was a dream or not, but when he woke up the next morning and got you a pregnancy test, he knew it wasn't.

The baby bump hadn't shown yet, but he knew it was going to soon. Cillian couldn't wait to place his ears to your belly, listening to the sounds of your future child. You had hurt him that day, but he didn't regret a single thing. It got him closer to you.

"You should have given me a warning. I was scared," he admitted, averting his gaze. "You scared me."

"I didn't mean to. I always thought you wouldn’t notice me. Well, you never did notice me." You gave a dry chuckle. “That’s why I had to be so forceful. I mean, you see me now, don’t you?”

“I always saw you,” Cillian replied softly. “But you know I couldn’t do anything. I couldn't risk loosing you. What if you didn't feel the same way?"

"You're so silly. Remember when I used to come to your house, dressed in nothing but a bathing suit? I would beg you to take me to the pool. Then I'd get you all alone in the hot tub . . . "

Cillian did remember. He always got so nervous when you came close to him, drifting through the water. You would place your hands up against his chest and flutter your eyelashes, claiming all you wanted was his comfort.

At the time, he had shrugged it off as a want for fatherly affection. Now he saw it for what it was.

"And I'd call you up in the middle of the night," you continued, running your fingers alone his collarbone. "'Oh, I can't sleep, Cilly. Can we talk?' And then we'd end up in your car, driving down lone roads in the cover of the night. We found that place, by the lake. I loved it there," you said wistfully. "We'd just sit for hours, with the sunroof open, gazing at the stars, listening to crickets and hooting owls . . . We should do that more often. I'll drive this time."

"No," he said sternly. "You shouldn't have to worry about that kind of stuff. I can handle it."

You giggled at his words and cuddled closer to him, draping your leg over his. "Whatever you say, sir."

You knew how worked up he got when you called him that. Of course, you were in charge. You never had to say it, it was just something you both accepted, but you still liked pretending he was the one in power. You'd call him 'sir' or 'daddy' — all in a playful manner, but you'd still say it nonetheless.

"Little girl," he cooed. "You're just the sweetest thing, aren't you?"

"Only for you," you flirted, letting your guard down. "You're the only one I'd do this with."

Cillian's heart warmed. "I know."

His eyes glanced to the clock on the wall. It was late, nearing midnight, and you had to get up early for college tomorrow. He had work as well. He had taken far too many sick days staying at home with you, talking about wedding plans, baby names, hell, even the most random things that could come to one's mind.

"Feeling tired?" he asked, caressing your cheek with a stroke of his finger.

"Kinda. Can we go to sleep now?"

It wasn't really a question. Cillian would say yes to whatever you wanted.

"Yeah. Goodnight," he breathed out, "I love you."

You smiled, a genuine smile, one filled with pure happiness. "Goodnight," you said back, your tone low. "I love you, too. More than you can ever imagine."

Taglist:

@henrywintersdearestgirl

@shroombloom-rry

@meetmeatyourworst

@mrkdvidal1989

@nela-cutie

@obsessionandmadness

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n #fanfiction #pinguwrites

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janaispunk · 5 months

Text

are you ever dreaming of me?

series masterlist • this is part IV

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

a/n: This got very dark very quickly, but it had to be done. It’s basically just one big love letter from me to Dave and his character. I know Dave’s behavior in the last chapter has been a little frustrating but I hope it’ll make more sense now (it’s still frustrating though ngl). I also know this is not as smut-heavy as the other chapters, which might come as a disappointment to some. Stay with me here, more filth is coming soon, I just had to get emotional for a second. <3 (also, please be nice because I lowkey hate this, actually)

word count: ~3.1k

summary: Dave’s side of the story.

warnings: ANGST, bits of fluff if you squint, age-gap, mentions of killing people, mentions of death, mentions of rough sex, power imbalance, able-bodied reader, somewhat unhealthy relationship dynamics, dubios morals (Dave is cheating on his wife… kinda), idiots in love, this whole serious is still very much 18+ only, mdni… did I mention angst? (As always, please tell if if I forgot something!)

dividers by @/saradika <3

find my full masterlist here!

Dave York isn’t a good man.

He isn’t a good man and he hasn’t been in a long time. He probably had been, once, when he first joined the military, when he still thought that he was doing the good thing, the right thing. Before he killed his first man. Now he’s living in shades of gray, where nothing is as simple as right or wrong.

He knows that what he’s doing is not right, but then again, the people that he’s killing aren’t good men either. He’s doing what he’s good at, what he has been trained to do for years. He doesn’t really know what else he’s good at. If there even is anything else.

He makes enough money to provide well for his daughters, the only thing in his life that he really cares about, the two girls that he loves more than anything. He loved their mother too, once, when they were both young. They were high school sweethearts, got married quickly simply because that was the thing that you did, only to realize later that adult life with each other wasn’t what either of them had imagined.

He’s never told Carol what exactly it is that he does, trying to protect her, which then led to her not understanding what was going on when he came home feeling cold and empty, a void inside of him that nothing could fill. They both grew distant from each other, not sharing any real connection anymore, just living aside one another. It works for him; their daughters are still the top priority for both of them, and they’re going to do everything in their power to give them the best possible childhood.

He suspects that Carol is seeing someone else, with the way she’s sometimes working late for no good reason, sliding out of the room to answer her phone at odd hours, the way he occasionally finds a position on their shared credit card bill that he doesn’t have an explanation for.

Dave knows that if he cared, he could easily find out every little detail about it. If he cared, he would probably be angry at how she’s not even making an effort to hide it. But the thing is - he just can’t bring himself to care. Has never done the same thing either, neither out of spite, nor because he had any desire for it.

Until he met her.

Sitting in a hotel bar, two seats over from him, when he’d just gotten a job done and figured that a quick drink might help him fall asleep easier. The whiskey’s burn in his throat didn’t ease the coldness that felt like it had permanently settled into his chest, not that he’d expected it to.

He had just decided to retreat to his room and get out of the city first thing in the morning when she sighed loudly and downed her own drink abruptly. He had noticed her when he walked in, the way he always clocked every person in any room he entered, and every possible exit route. He had absentmindedly noted that she was attractive, then dismissed the thought immediately. Probably here for a date, much younger than him, not paying him any mind. Not a threat, and therefore not important.

Not important at all, until he found himself turning to her and offering to buy her another drink before his mind had even caught up to his actions, learning that she had just been stood up for what would indeed have been a date, noticing the glint of interest in her gaze as she eyed him up and down, feeling a kind of longing that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Getting her to go up to his room with him had been easy. A mutual understanding of wanting each other, the desire to turn a shitty evening into something else, something that he doesn’t think either of them understood at the time.

Kissing her for the first time had been easy, too. Touching her, feeling her hot skin under his fingertips, her entire being so much softer, lighter than he was, felt easy. It felt right, like something that he hadn’t known he was missing right until that moment. He wanted to devour her, make her his, get her as close as he possibly could, before he inevitably had to give up this fleeting moment of something that suspiciously felt like happiness, and happiness never stayed within his reach for too long.

Sinking into her for the first time, hearing her gasp, her breath hot against his neck, felt even better. This was never gonna last, things this good never did. The way she clenched around him when he first slapped her ass and her whimper of “harder, please” turned him feral in a way that he hadn’t known before. How she gave up all control to him so willingly when his entire life had felt out of control for so long - it was addicting. He had known that he would come back for more again and again before he had even spilled himself into her for the first time.

He hadn’t planned for her to stay the night. Hadn’t planned for the way she kissed his lips in the morning, acting a little shy, like she was worried that he might send her away, but so clearly showing him that she wanted more of him, if that was what he wanted. And god damn, did he want to give her more, give her all that he had to offer, if only it wasn’t for the fact that any more of him would be enough to scare her away for good.

So, he didn’t give her more. Made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t looking for an emotional attachment, told her about his marriage, told her that they couldn’t be a thing. She was quick to hide her disappointment, but not quick enough for him not to notice. He half expected her to walk out then, that this wasn’t something she wanted, but instead she scribbled down her phone number, gave him a flirty smile and told him to call her “whenever”.

He knew he was being greedy, that he should have kept it a one time thing that he could keep a fond memory of, but of course he called her. Kept making stops in her town before flying back home, started spending weekends with her, the feeling of being around her too good to let go of.

He knows that it’s not right, that he’s probably taking advantage of her in some way. Of course he sees how badly she wants to please him, how she looks at him like he’s hung the moon for her. She has never denied him anything, no matter what kinds of depraved things he’s wanted to do with her. Hesitated, yes, but she has never said no. Never called red, never asked him to stop. Not when he first told her to call him “sir”, not when he spanked her for the first time, not when he’s edging her until she’s barely coherent, not when his fingers tightened around her throat for the first time. He could leave her a crying, shaking mess on the floor, and by the end of the night she’d still look up at him with those wide eyes and thank him.

It’s addictive and he can’t stop, always comes back for more when it feels like his whole life is spiraling out of his control again, when the darkness around him is threatening to swallow him whole. She’ll let him grab at her with rough hands, mold her body into any shape he wants, let him spit filth at her and let lose until he feels grounded again, until some of the darkness around him has dissipated.

Lately, work has been weighing on him even harder. Maybe he’s just getting older, maybe he has finally reached his limit, he’s not sure. With the whole week off, an incredibly rare occurrence, he knew who he wanted to spend it with. She had seemed stressed lately, like she needed a break too, so it was easy to convince himself that he was doing this for her. That it wasn’t just a selfish plan of his to spend more time with her.

Because somewhere along the way he has come to enjoy the time with her way too much. He enjoys lying in bed together, both of them catching their breaths, laughing about a stupid joke, the little tidbits from her life that she shares with him, the rare occasions when they’re walking around her neighborhood. The way she shyly grabbed his hand the first time, like she was scared that he would pull it away. The smile that she tried to but couldn’t hide when he didn’t.

This isn’t right and it’s not going to last, he’s well aware of that. As clear as he has been about his intentions, he still feels like he’s leading her on sometimes. But it feels too good to stop, to let go of one of the few comforts that he has in life.

The past few days with her have been heaven. He hadn’t anticipated how much he would enjoy spending so much uninterrupted time with her, how good it would feel to be around her the entire day, just watching her be herself and listening to her talking. And he has been talking as well, the feeling of speaking to someone without an ulterior motive, of someone listening to him just because they wanted to, more meaningful to him than he could put into words.

And all throughout, she had so willingly bent to his every wish, put all her trust into him, secure in the knowledge that in the end, he would take care of her.

So, Dave had let his guard down. Relaxed. Then the dream happened.

Last night, he had come home to find the girls slaughtered in their house, their small bodies soaked in blood. It’s a recurring nightmare, a fear that he can never entirely shake off, that haunts his subconscious every couple of weeks. He’s being thorough in his work, never leaving loose ends, keeping his private life concealed from the world that he moves in. The risk that anything could happen to them is as low as he can push it, but it’s not zero. Never zero, and it’s eating at him. Usually, he wakes up alone, gasping for breath, the sheets soaked with sweat. Him and Carol haven’t slept in the same bed for a long time.

Last night, it had been different. It had been different because she had been there beside him, shaking him awake and holding him in her arms until he calmed back down. It had also been different because she had been part of the dream. Just as dead, just as blood-soaked as his daughters.

She had been so sweet when he woke up, and it broke his heart. He wasn’t a good person. He was endangering everyone around him, he was endangering her by not being able to end this thing with her, and yet here she was, oblivious, comforting him.

He had always thought that eventually, he would be the one to break things off. But what if it was her? What if she figured out what a pathetic excuse of a man he was, that he couldn’t give her anything? Not a real relationship, and no future. He couldn’t let her in, couldn’t let her see who he was. What he did, what he was afraid of - and just how realistic those fears were.

He couldn’t even bear to picture the look on her face if he ever told her. The betrayal, the disgust, and eventually the fear. He couldn’t tell her. He wouldn’t. But how could he go on with this, knowing that every minute that he spends with her, he puts her in danger? Someone could find out. Someone could find her.

So does what he does best. Makes a plan. Suppresses his emotions until he’s sure of what to do. How to keep her safe. The logical part of his mind arrives at a solution pretty quickly: She’ll be safest if she stays away from him.

The emotional part of him, the part that he tries to keep shut down, doesn’t approve of this idea.

He has to tell her. Sooner rather than later, while the dream is still fresh in his memory, while he can still see her dead body when he closes his eyes.

Because he obviously knew about the dangers of being with him when he first laid eyes on her. When he kissed her for the first time, texted her for the first time, walked up to her apartment for the first time, when he booked this damn vacation because he’s unable to stay away from her. Unable to think straight when it comes to her. There’s a million reasons why he shouldn’t be with her and yet, he always finds a reason not to quit.

He tells himself that he’ll speak to her as soon as she gets up. Then once he’s done with his phone call. Maybe after they’ve had breakfast. At the end of the day, when they’re back in the room. He never does. He can’t.

The tension has become unbearable at that point. He knows that she’s confused, that she has questions that he doesn’t have answers for. His life feels out of control once again, so he tries gaining it back in the only way that he knows.

He half expected her to refuse him, but she seems just as relieved as he feels when he tells her to get down on her knees. Afterwards, he doesn’t feel better. Possibly hates himself even more.

He can tell that she’s off afterwards, and he’s battling himself to comfort her. This is not what he should be doing. None of this is what he should be doing.

Usually, she tucks herself into the space between his shoulder and his chest before he can even say a word. Not tonight. Tonight, she had her back turned to him before he had even switched off the lights, the “good night” that she normally breathes against his neck nothing more than a murmur from her side of the bed.

He stares at her backside in the darkness of the room, the way she seems to be curling in on herself, and he has no idea what to do. What they just did seemed like what she wanted, she had appeared eager, enthusiastic even, but maybe he read her wrong. Shit, he hadn’t even asked for her color once.

It’s quiet for a long time. He finally feels himself slowly drifting off to sleep, when her hears her sniffle. His eyes fly open again. It’s only minimal movements, but he can see her tremble ever so slightly. Fuck it, he thinks to himself as he reaches out towards her.

“Sweetheart? What’s wrong?”

You tense at his words, at the fact that he’s apparently awake. Has probably been the whole time. You try your hardest to make your voice sound normal, even though you know that it’s pointless.

“Nothing.”

It comes out even weaker than you had anticipated. You keep your back to him and feel him shuffling closer, his hand gently pulling at your shoulder to turn you towards him. “Baby. Talk to me.” His voice is soft in your ear and your heart is beating painfully in your chest. Baby. He has never called you Baby before. You feel a fresh wave of tears welling up in your eyes and shake your head but let him turn you around until you’re facing him.

His eyes search your face in the faint moonlight that’s filtering into the room and his hands cup your damp cheeks, his thumbs gently running over the skin under your eyes. The worry that’s so evident in his expression right now makes you want to break down. You’re exhausted, and confused, and you don’t understand the man in front of you and his contradictory behavior at all. So far you’ve been crying silently, but you can feel your bottom lip trembling as you try to suppress the sobs that are threatening to crawl up your throat.

“Did I- shit, was I too rough, did I hurt you? You didn’t say anything, but I never asked- I should’ve checked, I’m sorry, I-“

“You didn’t hurt me,” you whisper, cutting off his frantic rambling. He didn’t, not in the way that he’s referring to, anyway.

“Then what’s wrong?” he pleads, his hands still on your face, “Talk to me.” You inhale deeply. You really don’t want to have this conversation, but maybe it’s best like this. Rip the bandaid off, make it quick.

“Do you want to leave?”

Your voice breaks on the last word. He stares at you for a beat, his eyes wide. “Do I- What?” You shrug, unable to bring yourself to ask a second time. One of his hands slides down to your shoulder, holding you there. He doesn’t speak, his eyes boring into you.

You can’t hold his gaze any longer, your eyes dropping down to his chest instead. “You’ve been… weird. Today. I thought- I don’t fucking know, that I had done something or that you’ve-“ a sob breaks free and interrupts you, “that you’ve had enough of me. That you don’t want to go on with… this.” You gesture helplessly between the two of you.

You’re certain that now you’ve said too much, that if he hadn’t had enough before, he definitely has now. You’re supposed to be fun, a distraction, not someone who’s clinging to him, but you’re feeling too exhausted, too raw to keep pretending like this thing between you doesn’t mean something. To you, at least.

“Fuck,” Dave mumbles, and you gaze up to see the anguish in his eyes before his arms envelop you and he presses you against his chest, speaking into your hair. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise.”

It’s quiet for a minute as you’re inhaling his scent, trying to calm yourself down, when something occurs to you. “You didn’t say no,” you whisper into his chest, “you said that I didn’t do anything, but… you didn’t say that you don’t want to leave.” Dave freezes for just a second, searching your face, then he sighs heavily. He sounds defeated, you think.

“No, I don’t want to leave.”

taglist/people who have expressed interest in this: @joelscurls @reddedmiller @iamasaddie @guelyury @theywhowriteandknowthings @amanitacowboy @corazondebeskar @vabeachazn @mellymbee @bbyanarchist @untamedheart81 @missladym1981 @no1-nosesitter

let me know if you wanna be added, also no hard feelings if you wanna be removed! 🫶🏻

if you enjoyed this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging <3

series masterlist

#janas fics #the dress series #dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader #dave york fanfiction #dave york fic #the equalizer 2 #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedrostories

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manias-wordcount · 1 year

Note

hello! Could you do a small scenario with loid were anya runs up to him and is s/o and asks for a babysitter or brother ? Thabk you and have a wonderful day!! D Stay warm!!

A Simple Request (Loid Forger x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗴𝗼 !! 𝗶 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗶𝘁 :)

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚 !! 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝘂𝗴𝗴𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺𝗲𝘀 𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝗻𝗱

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

Sometimes you swear…

“Mommy! Daddy! I want a little brother or little sister!”

…children have an innate sense of horrible timing.

At her words, everyone in the room freezes. Loid sits stiffly in his position on the couch- his hand still outstretched to reach the mug of half-finished, after-dinner coffee sitting comfortably on the coaster in front of him. You stand over the sink completely frozen in motion. Even as the warm water continues running over your hands that had stopped cleaning your share of the dishes today in favor of letting your mind process everything you just heard. And Franky. Franky, who just couldn’t help but let his eyes rapidly shift between your expression and Loid’s as he gapes like the piece of fish Loid had prepared for dinner only mere hours ago.

Even Bond, who was laying on his side due to being tuckered out from a good long walk and a nice delicious meal in his stomach hadn’t even moved an inch- not even to greet his very best friend.

When your mind finally catches up with your ears, you pause for just a second longer. You take a deep breath in and close your eyes. You count to ten before letting your breath go. Your exhale is quiet and slow and it brings just the right amount of calming energy you need to face the situation at hand. Or at the very least, make the next decision and respond to Anya before she asks another difficult-to-answer question. So with that, you let the rest of your air go and you allow your eyes to flutter open. You look at your sweet, innocent, lovable handful of a daughter in her big green eyes and you ask her:

“Umm, Anya? What did you say, sweetheart?”

Admittedly, it might not have been the best approach. But you’re young and you’re new to parenting and being a couple so you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t help but search for a type of way to clear the obstacle ahead of you without issue. You couldn’t help but hope that there was no obstacle to be cleared in your first place. In fact, what was wrong with hoping that it was all just your ears playing tricks on you in the first place? Nothing! And judging by the way Loid’s own wide eyes slide over to yours with a grateful expression, you have a feeling that the two of you were already on the same page for taking the first step.

“I said I want a little brother or little sister! Please~!”

And…you’re back to square one.

Immediately, your hands drop the sponge you were holding and you lock eyes with Loid once again. Despite the fact that he looks just about as red as you feel in this moment, he looks virtually the same. Only this time, it’s pretty obvious that you’re not looking at Twilight playing a role- you’re looking at a man rather than a machine. A person confronted with the seemingly impossible task of responding to a small child’s request. A request that deals entirely with adult conversations that not even normal parents are able to respond to with ease.

So what does that mean for the two of you?!

Your mind runs wild with thoughts about what you should say or what you should do. Though each idea you come up with feels even more complicated than the last. Should you try this approach? Should you say this instead? How much should you hint around it? Is it better that she at least knows enough to think it’s gross? How much would you have to say to get to that point? Are you even prepared to say all of that? What would the Handler say?!

In the process of thinking, your expression must have taken a turn for the worse because now? It seemed like all eyes were on you. And all of those looks of concern were starting to make you feel nauseous. As if all the pressure were suddenly being thrusted into your inexperienced hands. Though luckily for you, that feeling doesn’t last for long.

Because all of the eyes on you was somehow enough for Franky to bolt.

“UHITWASNICEOFYOUTOINVITEMETOHAVEDINNERWITHYOURFAMILYTWILIGHTBUTIJUSTREMEMBEREDIHAVESOMETHINGIHAVETODOSTILLSOOO…BYE!”

This time, your mind really doesn’t process a single word you just heard. Neither does anyone else’s mind judging by the looks on their faces. But how could you when everything came out as a jumble while the man was in the process of sprinting out the front door of your apartment? And for the umpteenth time today, the entire room is left in a surprised, unsure silence with nothing more to do than exchange looks and hope that someone, anyone even, makes the next move. And this time, you’re not left waiting. You’re not left thinking, scheming, and coming up with all sorts of ideas.

And it’s because this time- Loid takes over.

“Well Anya, you know we just got Bond.” Loid begins firmly, as he gestured to the big, fluffy white dog on the ground who has yet to move more than an inch at the moment. With that, Loid then moved to place both his hands on either side of his legs on the couch. He pushes himself off and stands up to his full height before walking over to her to speak to her directly. For a second, your eyes meet his once again, and he offers up the subtlest nod he could muster before looking back. “Perhaps when we’re more familiar with Bond, we could talk about having a baby.”

“That’s right!” You agree instantly, jumping on his train of thought easily. You pull your hands out of the sink and grab a dry towel only a couple of inches away before taking it with you as you go to stand at Loid’s side for moral support. You bump shoulders with him very briefly to play up the image of a normal, affectionate couple before looking down to offer your daughter an easygoing smile as if to make all that you were saying sound more believable. All the panic you were feeling early seemed to disappear now that it was just you and Loid backing each other up like old times’ sake. “Having a new baby and a new doggy around would be a bit difficult to manage, don’t you think?”

“Besides, the stork won’t deliver a baby unless the whole family agrees to have one.” Loid continues easily, completely ignoring the way your eyes are burning holes into the side of his head now that he’s backed the two of you into the Stork conversation. “And you never know. Bond might prefer things the way they are. And if that’s the case, he might just ask the stork not to bring you a little brother or sister.”

Anya gives him a look as soon as he finished his explanation. And then her eyes fall onto yours, and she spares you the same exact glance before looking back at him. It’s a look you’ve seen on her face a few times before. A look that reminds you of someone when they know too much. When they’re about to call your bluff. When they think you’re a liar, even. And given the way her eyes narrows and her mouth tugs downwards in the smallest of frowns after hearing Loid’s practically empty answer, you would have sworn she’s too smart for her own good. Despite what her test scores may say.

“Hmm…”

And finally…

“Okay!

…she settles.

After that, her attention is quickly captured by now, more lively Bond who comes to her side and follows her back to her room after being called by name. As she turns her back towards the two of you and disappears down the hallway, you can hear her speaking to Bond animately- talking about how much fun a baby would be and how much he would enjoy a new friend. Almost as if she was really was trying to convince your new dog to change his mind so a stork could drop off a child at your doorstep. Oh, to be young again.

“Phew…crisis averted! I’m glad that’s over with!” You cheered quietly with a soft sigh of relief. Your shoulders sagged as if you were finally relinquishing the weight of the world from your hands. In a way, you almost dare say you did. With your smile still on your face, you turned to face your partner in everything you do so you could offer him your gratitude. “Thank you so much for covering for me, Loid! I don’t know what I would have said if she kept…”

The words die almost instantly on your lips.

Once again, you’re left completely frozen where you stood. But this time, it’s not because of something your daughter said or something your house guest did. It’s because this time, Loid is giving you a look of his own. One that wasn’t the warm, relieved smile that you thought you were going to see from him. One that wasn’t the red-faced, look of embarrassment that you figured would be next on the list. But one that you could only describe as dangerous.

Almost as dangerous as the way he’s now suddenly behind you. With his hands resting on your waist. And his fingers brushing against the skin hidden underneath your shirt.

And his lips a too little too close for you to say anything to.

“You know…no one would ever suspect a family was fake if there was a little one on the way…”

Anything but no.

“Loid? Are you asking to…?”

His eyes darken and the side of his lip tugs upwards. It’s as if you’re his latest hunt. His latest hunt. And with that hand that’s now sliding over your stomach with all the boldness in the world? You can’t help but wish. You can’t help but hope.

“Well…want to give it a try?”

That Anya’s little poorly timed request magically ends up coming true.

#loid forger x reader #loid forger #loid forger fanfic #loid forger fanfiction #spy x family #spy x family x reader #spy x family fanfic #spy x family fanfiction #x reader #xreader #fanfic #fanfiction

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southangel · 2 months

Note

Heyo!

I don't know if you write about familiar stuff (I guess it counts as a platonic topic), but if you do, can I request the Broship as single fathers and what it would be like to be their kid? How would each of them handle being a single parent?

Cheers!

Main 4 Being their kid

Warnings: mentions of drinking/drugs

Notes: No gender mentioned, so gender-neutral by default. This was a little time-consuming to write, luckily I had a lot of free time today! Ran out of ideas for Cartman though.

Stan Marsh

As we’ve already seen from Post Covid, Stan is in some ways similar and different from his childlike self.

Having a child is stressful enough, but being a single parent on top of it just adds more to the cake.

As much as he cares and wants to raise you correctly, he’s terrified of becoming like his father.

Randy was never a good dad, and it affected Stan mentally where he almost considered never wanting children.

I see Stan as more protective than he was as a kid. He doesn’t want anything harmful to happen to you like what happened to him, so he tries to shield you from it in a way that isn’t incredibly overbearing.

He wants the best for you, and he wants you to be happy in life. Stan often tries to keep a balance when taking care of you, trying to raise you to be respectful and have the best personality in all the right areas.

Stan would be the kind of father to play his guitar for you until you fall asleep, or even introduce and influence you to pick up your own instrument.

Sometimes the stress and negative thoughts catch up with him, he doesn’t feel like he’s a good father and he feels as if he’s slowly becoming Randy.

He turns to his old childlike habits, drinking and mentally losing himself without even noticing, it’s by instinct.

Stan doesn’t want to be like this, and he doesn’t want to you to see him like this, especially when you’re still young.

Once you get older, it’s when you see Stan like this that you realize maybe he’s the one needing comfort.

Stan doesn’t necessarily ever want you to meet his friends, Kyle is an exception.

He thinks their bad influences, and he only wants the best for you! Besides, if Kyle has a kid as well, then maybe you could both hangout together.

He tries to let you be as carefree as possible, letting you do as you wish as you grow older.

Stan doesn’t want to seem like a typical adult once you start considering love interests, but he just doesn’t want you to get your heart broken.

It’s happened to him, multiple times.

He just wants to prepare you and make sure that you’re absolutely sure on what you’re doing in this stage of your life.

You’re the reason Stan keeps going, and he wants to be the best dad he ever can.

“Oh, what happened to your Grandpa? Let’s talk about something else..”

Kyle Broflovski

Kyle is definitely a hot topic, as I personally see him as the best dad out of the Main 4, single or not.

I see him as very fatherly, or more family oriented than the rest. It makes sense when you see how he takes care of Ike.

Kyle has never really been one with romantic luck, and I guess it carried on in his adulthood since now he’s a single father with you as his child.

The first thing that i’ll say is that Kyle wants the best for you. His parents wanted the best for him, and look where he is now.

He wants you to be the best, getting top scores and grades on all your assignments and work.

At some point it feels overbearing even.. Constant pushing and pressuring to be the best, how long until you can’t handle it.

Eventually Kyle tries to let you be, but reassures you that he’s only like this because he wants the best for you, you’re his kid!

You know he wants the best for you, and that he only means well..

I see Kyle as the most protective out of the Main 4, but that doesn’t mean he’s intense with it.

He just wants to make sure you aren’t in any trouble or harm, and he wants to help you if you are.

Kyle wants to support you in all of your hobbies and dreams, no matter what they are.

Even after countless years, Kyle still has dreams or thoughts of Cartman coming back to somehow screw with him again, this time being with you.

Part of this is why he never wants to introduce you to his friends just like Stan, but he is partially open to Stan..

Since it was confirmed in Post Covid that Kyle became a counselor, I believe that he would be perfect at comforting you with any troubles or worries you could have ever had.

If you ever have problems or troubles, who else can you really tell other than him? He’s your dad after all, he understands.

Once you start exploring and finding love interests, he wants to support you with it as much as he possibly can.

Kyle never had much luck in romance his entire life, so he wants you to have a different fate.

He hopes you can be happy in life, all he wants is to satisfy you in this lifetime.

Even with all this, Kyle genuinely really cares about you, and he’ll always love you no matter what you decide to do with your life.

“What’s wrong? You know you can always talk to me.”

Kenny Mccormick

Personally, I also see Kenny as a good dad as well.

Kenny as really been through a lot, and he doesn’t want you to experience what he did as a child.

His childhood was incredibly rough, poor lifestyle in an abusive and unstable household that was the worst combination for him.

Even though Kenny has been through so much, he still manages to attempt and cheer up his family like Karen, and I see the same for you.

Even though now as an adult he’s doing much better, he still carries on to the caring and compassionate traits.

Kenny wants to spoil and get you all the things he could never have as a kid, but still wants to make sure you aren’t spoilt.

I think he would be okay with you meeting his friends, not Cartman though.

Kenny has been shown to do numerous things for money in the past, and I feel like he would do the same for you.

Instead of money as a reward, his reward would be having you happy and content.

He’s used to amounts of crying in his childhood, but it still hurts when he sees you cry.

Kenny feels as if he’s done something wrong, and similar to Stan, he doesn’t know what to do and feels lost.

He is more mentally stable than Stan though, he pushed through it and still takes care of you as best as he ever will.

Kenny has had multiple love interests throughout his lifetime, but never really found that perfect one.

Once you start growing up and gaining crushes, he would support you in finding love like Kyle, but he would be more weary about it.

He just wants to make sure that you’re okay and safe when finding the right person, your safety and happiness means the most to him.

Let’s not forget about his death curse..

Unfortunately, Kenny’s curse of always dying as a kid carries on to his adulthood, constantly killing him.

He remembers how you would cry every time and get traumatized by his death, but then suddenly forgetting about it the next morning.

Kenny eventually discovered that he had a less chance of dying once wearing less of the color orange.

He wants you to make the most of your life, exploring and experimenting with possibilities.

Kenny would be the type of dad to try finding hobbies that you like. One time he tried baking with you, it was pretty fun for the most part! The house almost burnt down.

With all this, Kenny would be a pretty good father, single or not. He cares about you with his life, and that’s all that matters.

“What do you think about pets? A cat maybe?”

Eric Cartman

Cartman is a huge handful, and he can be difficult in so many ways.

It’s not a surprise that he’s the worst dad here, but makes you the worst kid as well.

I genuinely don’t see him as a good dad, unless we’re talking about Post Covid before that future was replaced.

Cartman might make some effort to care, but it definitely won’t be a lot. He either does nothing or something, no in between.

He is not the protective type, possibly the exact opposite on the scale when he feels like it. Though there are times he shows care for you, it’s rare though.

Cartman is known to be manipulative, and he will guilt trip you in any way once you’ve gotten on his nerves, mostly talking about how hard it is being a dad and trying to connect with you.

When you were a child, you accidentally crashed into Kyle’s car with Cartman’s, he was actually proud of you.

I see Cartman as the type of dad to ask you to pass the remote while he’s sitting arm length away from it, purposely knowing you’re in the other room.

He wouldn’t necessarily care to have you meet his friends, the only benefit he really sees is rubbing it in Kyle’s face that he has a kid while he doesn’t.

Even thought Cartman isn’t a good father or person in general, there are times where he genuinely feels a want to take his role seriously and raise you properly.

It’s not like he neglects you, it’s just that he doesn’t really care or feel the need to always associate you with him.

Maybe if you could take after him, he would like you more, or maybe he would just dislike you even more..

Part of you wants to have a good relationship with your own parent, but Cartman doesn’t seem to really care much.

There are times where he might actually start taking care of you, but it’s slim.

Once you start getting crushes and falling in love, Cartman tells you about his old relationship with Heidi, and obviously twists the story..

He doesn’t care about who you date much, but you don’t understand the reason why he’s adamant and strict about who you can and can’t go for.

“Don’t you understand how hard it is taking care of you? Give me some space..”

#stan marsh x reader #eric cartman x reader #kyle broflovski x reader #kenny x reader #south park x y/n #south park #south park x reader #kenny mccormick #stan x reader #kyle x reader #south park kyle #stan marsh #eric cartman #eric

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Text

"To Know You Again" Chapter 5 - Doubt No More

Pairing: Neteyam x fem!Omatikaya OC

Summary: “Do you remember our last night here? The night before my family left?” The warm, rumbling timbre of Neteyam’s voice washed over her. “Yes,” Naia whispered. How could she forget?... She had replayed the memory of his lips over and over numerous times. One corner of Neteyam’s mouth lifted in a small smile as his eyes tracked over the delicate bridge of her nose and over her steadily flushing cheeks. His gaze stopped to rest on her lips, “You gave me something that night. I think it's time I returned it."

An exploration of what if Neteyam had to leave a girl he was close to behind when his family fled to the reefs to seek refuge. AU - Set 7 years after TWoW, exploring the many emotions and the eventual romantic reunion between Neteyam and his love.

Warnings: Adult content 18+, MDNI Content: Romance, drama, angst, fluff, sexual content, smut, soulmates, bonding. Word Count: 8.9k

Previous Chapter 4 - The Great Mother's Blessing

Leylani watched, alarmed, as Naia disappeared out through the entry flaps of the tsahìk’s hut again, tearing away through the stronghold. The basket of clean linen lay haphazardly on its side on the floor, some of its contents spilling out of its tilted form. She called out in a half-shout, very mindful of the newborn asleep in her arms, “Manaia! What’s wrong? Manaia!”

Her friend had looked a fright. Naia’s eyes had been wide and frantic, as though she had just witnessed something terrible. Her expression had turned even more stricken when she had met Leylani’s gaze, and her face had crumpled before she had snatched her belongings and fled. Something was wrong.

Lithely pushing off the backs of her feet to stand up, Leylani quickly padded back around the wooden partition to return Amiria to her napping mother with a hurried apology. Gathering her long tresses and winding it all atop her head in a knot, she lanced a couple of long hairpins through the updo to make it stay and prepared to run after Naia. Leylani strapped her hunting knife to her hip and was about to step out of the hut when the flaps parted to admit an apprehensive looking Kikuna.

“Did Manaia come back this way?” Kikuna asked, her forehead creased with worry.

Immediately connecting the appearance of this young woman with the disappearance of the other, Leylani remarked in return, “Yes, why?”

Kikuna shifted anxiously on her feet and wrung her hands, “A few of us were chatting by the washing grove. She overheard and looked upset when she left us.”

Clearing her throat and folding her arms impatiently across her bosom, Leylani eyed the young woman acutely, foot tapping tetchily on the floormats, “Well? What happened?”

Kikuna and her gaggle of friends were insipid and notorious gossips. Leylani did not even want to guess what unpleasant comments had been said that had not been meant for Naia’s ears. Likely some distasteful comment about Naia’s plain appearance… or her bland fashion sense… The former of which was untrue, and the latter meant nothing at all in the grand scheme of things, when you considered what a generous and beautiful soul Naia was, even if her tongue was sharp.

“Tupou told me this morning that Neteyam has reclaimed his role as successor.” Kikuna began carefully, “I’m sorry Leylani, I know it’s meant to be all hush-hush still, but everyone is already talking about it. We were just talking amongst ourselves about it. You’d make a strong pair, you and Neteyam.”

Kikuna’s last sentence was delivered with a beseeching smile towards Leylani, as if the compliment would somehow atone for the inappropriate nattering she and her friends had engaged in. The realisation of what Naia had overheard and what she would have surmised was like a dowsing of frigid water over Leylani. Naia would have assumed the worst and worse still, her assumption would have been incorrect based off the gossip.

This was not at all how events were supposed to unfold… Naia was not supposed to find out until Neteyam spoke to her tonight… By Eywa, no one in the wider clan was supposed to know anything yet.

*** FLASHBACK TO EARLIER THAT MORNING ***

“Neteyam, wait!” Leylani speared through the draping flaps of the council shelter, hastening after Neteyam as he strode away. Reaching out, she grasped hold of his wrist and he turned to face her. The disappointment was plain on his face, but the unwavering resolution that reinforced his decision still remained.

“You can’t convince me to change my mind, Leylani. My decision is made.”

“I know, brother. But-” Leylani breathed with an exhalation. However, Neteyam interrupted her before she could continue.

“Then there’s nothing to talk about.” He was about to turn on heel and leave when Leylani firmly took hold of both his hands.

“Hear me out, you didn’t let me speak.” Leylani chided. She squeezed his hands hearteningly, “You would rescind your decision to decline and accept if you could mate Manaia, right? What if she was your tsakarem again?”

Neteyam’s lips parted and his brows furrowed low, reading between the lines of what she was implying, “What are you saying?”

Warmth unfolded in her heart as Leylani licked her lips and prepared to give voice to her own decision. She felt no disappointment, no resentment, because she knew this was her path and was at peace with it, “I’ll step down.”

Astonishment coloured Neteyam’s face and he blinked at her, shaking his head, “I can’t ask this of you.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.” Leylani pressed firmly. She graced him with a noble smile then and released one of his hands to press her palm over his heart, “This is right. It is what I must do for my people and for both of you. We’ll make things as they used to be, reinstate the original order of things.”

It appeared her words were still sinking in and Leylani could see him mulling over what they meant. Neteyam murmured, almost to himself, “That’s assuming Naia wants to be tsakarem again. She did give up the role after all.”

With a snort and an eyeroll that even Naia would have been proud of, Leylani retorted, “She gave up the role because she didn’t want to mate Tupou, because Tupou isn’t you. She is still the ideal tsakarem for this clan just as you are the ideal successor. She will go where you go. Manaia will stand by your side, trust me.”

Neteyam huffed out a laugh of delight and he pulled her into a firm embrace. No words were said, but Leylani did not need them to feel his relief and his gladness.

“Come! We must tell them. Before they dismiss for the morning.” Leylani said, tugging on his wrist again and pulling him eagerly back into the meeting shelter.

*** FLASHBACK END ***

The curse that rustled past Leylani’s lips was stifled, but still vulgar enough that Kikuna flinched in surprise. Leylani knew it was unlike herself to use expletives, but sometimes the situation warranted it.

“Tupou should never have told you, and you shouldn’t have gone and told other people!” Leylani moved to take Kikuna’s elbow, leaning closer so she could mutter by the other woman’s ear through gritted teeth.

Kikuna pouted and hissed huffily, “It wasn’t just me Tupou told. He told a few of the other warriors too. And how is it that Manaia doesn’t know? I thought she and Neteyam were close.”

“That is beside the point! Your gossiping has unnecessarily and incorrectly upset Manaia.” Leylani rebuked with pinned ears, her tail swishing crossly from side to side. There was not any way to correct Kikuna’s understanding of the situation without telling her the full truth. Considering what a chatterer Kikuna was, Leylani decided it better to give her the truth rather than leave her to potentially spread more assumptions and lies, “Neteyam’s decision isn’t final yet! He needed tonight to speak to Manaia first before the council formally made their announcement, because he won’t reclaim his position unless Manaia agrees to reclaim hers as tsakarem.”

Kikuna blinked several times as the facts settled in and then she turned to Leylani in shock, “So y-you’re not going to be mated to Neteyam?”

“No! He loves Manaia! But no thanks to you, you’ve now made it seem like he’s abandoned her behind her back!”

Kikuna paled to a lighter shade of blue and she bit her lip, realising the error and the consequence it had wrought upon Manaia. She could only squeak in response, “Oh.”

With an exasperated snarl of frustration, Leylani swept out of the hut in search of Naia. She did not regret how harsh she had been with Kikuna, but another part of her reminded her that the root cause of this situation was not, in fact, Kikuna. Another muted curse left her and she muttered under her breath to herself, “You wait until I get my hands on you, Tupou.”

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

Was it possible to go from the happiest you had ever been to the saddest in the space of one day?...

Night had fallen and it was well and truly the heart of eclipse now. Naia knelt at the foot of the Tree of Souls her hands braced against the peeling bark of the trunk as she wept. Even the unbroken flow of the ancestors’ voices through her bond with the Great Mother’s tree did nothing to soothe the upheaval in her heart.

She was well-versed with the symptoms of a panic attack. The revelation of Neteyam’s supposed re-acceptance of his birthright, and betrothal to Leylani by default, had sent Naia into a tailspin of irrational thinking. Her deepest, darkest fears had risen to the surface like a monstrous creature with sharp claws and gnashing teeth, seizing hold of her heart in its unforgiving jaws and terrorising her with her insecurities. Yet, try as she might to combat the crushing senselessness that came with the spell, Naia’s thoughts still swung from pole to pole; idyllic memories of the last few weeks warring with the ugly insecurities dredged up by her panic.

Why didn’t Neteyam say anything about the proposition?... Was that his intention all along? To return to the clan to reclaim his birthright?... But he told you he loved you; he came back for you… Then why did he keep this from you?...

Naia had fled the stronghold earlier that afternoon and her legs had automatically carried her towards the ikran rookery, intent on flying wherever her panicked mind sought to take her. She had reached the flat crag of the rookery before realising that Lortirea would still be weak from laying, so flying was immediately thrown out of the equation. Foolishly, she had let her legs carry her mindlessly and aimlessly down from the floating mountains to the forest floor, where she had continued to run herself to exhaustion.

The acute shaking of her limbs had ceased now at least, as had the painful tingling in her fingers. All that was left now were her sore muscles and scraped palms and knees where she had fallen earlier. Where her mind had reeled with irrational panic before, now it drowned in the unrelenting depths of her despair.

She could not lose Neteyam again… A woeful sob forced its way from her throat. Naia had healed the wound as best she could when his family had first left all those years ago. She had made a reluctant peace with his departure from her life, and convinced herself to be content with her memories and her girlish fantasies. But then he had miraculously returned and he had swept her off her feet with his promise of forever. So, why now had he agreed to mate another woman?...

An image of Leylani swirled into Naia’s mind, all lissom grace and stunning beauty beyond compare… The thought turned into a knife-sharp clench in her chest. Perhaps it’s obvious why, Naia… How could he resist her?... They would make a strikingly attractive pair… you would look mismatched next to Neteyam with your uninspiring plainness…

By Eywa, Naia knew she could not bear to go through life watching them together. Not after sharing what she had with Neteyam these last few weeks. Naia knew the separation would be so much worse this time, knowing what she would be losing; watching him wed Leylani; watching him start a soaia (family) with her; living with them as olo’eyktan and tsahìk... Naia felt sick and she swallowed another painful sob.

Better than Tupou being clan chief, at least… Neteyam had always been a natural leader and the Omatikaya would flourish under his leadership. However, the positive thought was of little consolation to Naia in the present moment. Her heart was selfish and it wanted to wallow in its hurt.

One of Naia’s hands flew to clutch the pendant at her throat, the only physical reminder she had that she had not dreamt up the bliss of the last while. Neteyam had given it to her, called her the most beautiful thing in his eyes… Had he lied?... Perhaps you were just a convenient roll-around in the moss while he awaited the council’s decision to reinstate him… She did not want to believe the horrid thought, but her insecurity reared its ugly head once more.

Naia knew that Neteyam had had other women. He was her first, but she was not his by any means. They had not spoken about this specifically, but there was a familiarity and a confidence in the way he touched her that spoke to his sexual experience. The idea had not bothered her before. After all, it had been her own personal preference not to explore intimacy with others. She would not begrudge him the freedom of not doing the same. But maybe she was not as special as he had led her to believe…

Naia sagged on her next sobbing exhale, uncaring that it hurt the scrapes on her palms to trail her hands forlornly down the harsh bark of the tree. Palms flat on the glowing moss, she bent forward to press her forehead against the backs of her hands, her entire form prostrate on the ground. Great Mother, please let this all be a nightmare… let me wake up and realise that none of this is true…

She was shattered both physically and emotionally. She was so tired. There was no way she would make it back to High Camp tonight. Scaling down the mountains and trekking to the Tree of Souls on foot had been a rash endeavour. There was a reason that those who wanted to visit the sacred site made the journey down on the backs of their ikran. Naia would have to spend the night here, and may Eywa protect her, lest any predators decide to make a midnight snack of her.

The pendant around her neck reminded her of its presence again as it clinked gently against the moss with her lurching breaths. She encircled the piece of jewellery in her palm, feeling the smooth texture of its looping pattern against her fingertips.

Lifting her head from the ground to sit upright, Naia unsheathed the dagger at her hip. It did not belong around her neck.

Neteyam had broken his promise, if he had ever meant it at all.

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

Leylani had been pacing at the edge of the stronghold overlooking the horizon for the better part of the evening, anxiously awaiting Neteyam’s return. No one had seen Naia since she had bolted earlier that afternoon and the small scout party that Tarsem had deployed just before eclipse had not located her anywhere in the stronghold or in the surrounding forest grounds below the mountains.

Naia’s mother had been disappointed and unimpressed to learn of the misunderstanding, but Ayepni knew her daughter and she knew Naia would not return until she was ready to. Naia had always been very independent and obstinate; she would not be found if she did not want to be. Ayepni had tried to reassure Leylani that Naia would return home when she was ready to, but this did not sit well with Leylani and it was well into the night now.

Leylani chewed on her bottom lip and wrung her hands. She had grown and learned the ways of healing and spiritual leadership alongside Naia since they were children. Naia was as close as a sister to her, and the thought of Naia thinking she had betrayed her trust too was a thorn in her side. Kicking some loose scree about with her foot, Leylani groused to herself again and wished the warriors would hurry up.

The warriors’ patrol party was late returning to base, although Tarsem had indicated this possibility to her. Their assignment today had been to patrol out to the farthest outskirts of Omatikaya territory and it was a decent journey there and back. This was a mission that was routinely done once every moon cycle to survey the land for any unusual activity or threat from neighbouring clans. The danger of the Sky People had been vanquished, but Na’vi were still territorial, and inter-clan relations were not always friendly.

Finally though, the caws and skreiches of returning ikran reverberated through the rocky cavern of the stronghold as the warriors swooped in and up to land. Leylani’s eyes zeroed in on her two targets dismounting from their beasts to her far right. She felt a dichotomy of emotions as she marched up to the pair, her relief at the sight of Neteyam sparring with her quickly firing frustration at the sight of Tupou.

“That frown isn’t a good look on you, Leylani.” Tupou jeered, though his heckle was short-lived when it became apparent in the next instant that the focal point of her frustration was him.

Jabbing him with a finger above the just-healed scar on his pectorals, Leylani spat at Tupou, “You!” She felt no remorse at Tupou’s hiss of pain and continued, “You big-mouthed bastard. If anything untoward has happened to Manaia, it will be on your head!”

The mention of Naia’s name instantly caught Neteyam’s attention and he swivelled away from his ikran to face them, “What’s going on?”

“Tupou has broken the confidence he promised you this morning! He told Kikuna and a few others that you’d accepted the proposition, except he omitted the one crucial detail that your acceptance was still dependent on Manaia’s own reclamation of her own role as tsakarem.” Leylani outed Tupou’s misdemeanour without an ounce of hesitation, and it was the maddest Neteyam had ever seen her, “And now, the entire clan is talking about it and Manaia thinks you have agreed to be betrothed to me!”

Vexed at Leylani’s attack, Tupou griped in return, “So tell her that’s not the case? I don’t see the big deal!”

“I would! Except she heard through the grapevine from Kikuna and her gossip gang and ran off upset! She hasn’t come back since!”

The news sunk in a weight of cold, stony dread into the pit of Neteyam’s stomach. It was a misunderstanding of significant proportions and he turned to glower at Tupou, “You couldn’t wait just one more day for me to discuss this with Naia first? I haven’t technically accepted yet.”

Tupou flung his arms up impatiently and emitted a harsh groan, “It’s as good as done anyway! Manaia will re-accept her old position, we know that! Why didn’t you tell her about the proposition in the first place? If she is your intended, then why did you keep this from her?”

Neteyam’s lips pressed into a thin line and his tail weaved in a low arc behind him. It was a valid point that he could not refute. He should have told her. It would have been the honest thing to do. He had known that keeping this a secret from her was not ideal, but he never envisaged his decision to do so would unravel and come back to bite him in the form of the messy misunderstanding they now found themselves in.

The simmer of unease in Neteyam’s gut began to bubble and froth with more intensity while he absorbed the full consequence of how Naia would have interpreted the situation. Eywa, she probably thought he had deserted her for Leylani…

Leylani shook her head at the misfortune of it all. She took hold of Neteyam’s elbow and gave it a pressing squeeze, “Do you know where she might have gone? She looked distraught. I hate that she has the wrong idea about all this.”

Thinking immediately of the grotto, Neteyam nodded, hoping that he was right, “I think so.”

“Tarsem said that if you don’t find her soon then he will dispatch another round of scouts. He wants to know she is safe.”

“Got it. I’ll come find you at your family’s shelter if we need to keep looking, but if you don’t hear from me then everything is alright.”

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

Hindsight was always 20/20 and regret almost always came hand in hand with it.

The night-time winds during the darkest part of eclipse were bitterly cold and Neteyam wished he had brought his flying shawl with him. In his haste to find Naia, the thought had not even occurred to him. He squinted down at the forest floor below through the whipping airstreams, searching for any sign of her. He was weary after his day’s work and even Tompa’s own fatigue was palpable through their bond as they flew. However, Neteyam’s concern for her safety far outweighed his tiredness.

None of this would have happened if he had been honest and open with Naia from the beginning.

The commlink in his ear beeped as yet another one of the other scouts reported they had searched and cleared their assigned area with no sighting of Naia. They had cleared High Camp, cleared the surrounding floating mountaintops and were now searching the forest floor in a gradually widening radius as Naia’s whereabouts continued to elude them.

Neteyam cursed under his breath. Where are you, Naia?... He would not rest until he found her. By Leylani’s accounts, Naia had been missing for hours now and though she had never been the reckless sort, part of him worried she might have done something rash in her upset.

To say that Neteyam’s heart had plummeted earlier when he had gone first to their grotto was an understatement. He had expected to find Naia there, but he had arrived to find the space vacant and cold. The rumpled nest of blankets had been as they had left it the previous night and not even a single ember glowed in the makeshift hearth. He had not been able to scent her in the vicinity and it was evident that she had not even set foot in the place that evening.

He had scurried to her family’s shelter next, in case he had missed her on her return home. However, he had been greeted by the apprehensive eyes of Naia’s parents, Ayepni and Tulut, their anxious expressions confirmation enough that Naia was not there either.

“Manaia has never missed last meal.” Ayepni had declared, and her worry had been tangible then, “No matter how angry or upset she is, Naia always comes home to eat. And then she might disappear again to go sulk wherever she goes, but she has never missed a meal like this.”

If it had not been for the dismal circumstances, Neteyam would have laughed. Naia did like her food. But this uncharacteristic departure from her routine was yet another stone on the already weighty pile of stones in the pit of his belly. Where was she?

The commlink beeped in his ear again followed by the rustle of static. The line connected and then disconnected several times, punctuated by harsh crackles and scratches like the person using it was fumbling around, inexperienced with the commlink device around their neck.

“Ah, hello? Can anyone hear me?” The voice was awkward, feminine and hesitant.

Neteyam’s fingers flew to the link at his throat, pressing the button to speak, “Leylani, go ahead. What is it?”

“I’ve found her! She’s at Vitrautral! I haven’t landed, but she appears alright, just praying.”

Balmy relief washed over Neteyam at Leylani’s words and he took a deep inhale before letting his breath rush out of him in a gust. He responded, “Copy that. I’m on my way there now.” The Tree of Souls was not far from where he was currently, it was just a bit farther out west.

Urging Tompa to bank left toward their targeted destination, Neteyam spotted Leylani departing on her own ikran in the distance. He let out an echoing ululation and returned her wave as she turned to depart for home. Leylani had insisted on joining the scout party and after Naia’s parents and himself, she was probably the next most concerned person. Neteyam had always held Leylani in high regard, both as a healer as well as a friend, but he had a newfound level of respect for her after what she had done today. Her unselfishness was truly admirable.

The dazzling vision of the sacred tree illuminated the luxuriant forest around it and Neteyam slowed on Tompa to circle the site. He spotted Naia within moments, knelt on one side of the tree’s mammoth trunk. The hallowed tree was positioned in the centre of a series of rocky escarpments which surrounded it on all sides, making it look as if it was situated within a natural geological bowl of glowing flora.

Making his descent, Tompa alighted elegantly on one of the scarps and the beast let out a low whine at the sight of Naia, who turned her head briefly in acknowledgement but remained stooped over where she was knelt. Patting Tompa’s neck in gratitude and murmuring his appreciation, Neteyam slid off his familiar’s back and carefully made his way down the steep scarp towards Naia.

Breaking into a jog once he reached flat ground, his eyes automatically scanned Naia for any sign of injury as he approached. She turned her head to face him and Neteyam’s heart squeezed in his chest.

Physically she was unharmed, but emotionally she looked broken.

Neteyam could smell the anguish pouring off her in the scent of her dried perspiration. The usually neat braids of her hair were windswept and little tendrils stuck out around her forehead and ears. Her nose was wet, her cheeks tracked with tears and her eyes were red-rimmed. Even the usually bright glimmer of the tanhì that freckled her all over were dimmed, the bioluminescent spots all flickering weakly like dying stars against the rich sapphire of her skin.

Naia did not rise to greet him and she held his gaze only for a few moments before her chin dropped to her chest again. The points of her ears turned down and her tail lay limp by her side. “Congratulations,” She croaked bitterly, her gaze still trained on her folded hands in her lap.

Shaking his head and feeling the sharp edge of regret cutting into his soul again, Neteyam’s voice was measured when he spoke to begin his explanation, “Naia, there’s been a huge misunderstanding-”

“About us? Yes, there has. One of us has made a grave misjudgement of the other.” Naia interrupted with a snap, immediately defensive.

“I’ve made a huge error in judgement, and I’m sorry. I should’ve told you so you wouldn’t get the wrong idea, so that you knew where I stood about us.” Neteyam continued, calmy disregarding her interruption.

Naia had spent hours in solitude now, stewing away with only her tumultuous emotions for company. She had alternated between praying to the Great Mother for guidance in the despairing situation she found herself in and begging her to take the pain in her soul away. Her hurt and her anger had warred, battling each other for control, swinging back and forth between bouts of tears and bouts of resentment.

However, now that Neteyam stood in her presence her ire was winning and dominating. She did not need to hear his apology for what he had done; for the woman he had chosen over her. She did not want to hear it. Her ire flared and it mixed with her burning shame. To think that she had pledged her everything to this man, let him fill her with dreamy promises, and he had so easily cast it all aside.

“I don’t want to hear it.” Naia’s tone was harsh and her big eyes were full of accusation as she glared up at him. Her face twisted into a grimace and a spurt of rage pushed her to her feet before him, “I trusted you. I let you in and let you cajole me with your sweet words, and all for nothing!”

Neteyam blinked and he took an involuntary step backward in bewilderment. Confusion bloomed within him as he regarded Naia who stood there with wild eyes and clenched fists. What was she talking about? Her chest was heaving with her breaths and tears were pooling in her eyes. She looked on the brink of a breakdown.

“Naia, what are you talking about?”

Neteyam reached for her arm and Naia exploded in a violent hiss, twisting out of his reach, “Don’t touch me! You lied! You didn’t have to say all those things! You didn’t have to make me feel special if you didn’t mean any of it!” Naia’s words rushed from her in a torrential stream, her emotions running high on the fuel of insecurity she had stoked to a fever pitch in the hours leading up to this moment. Feeling vulnerable, she wrapped her arms around her shoulders, her screams fizzling to whimpers now as she began to cry, “You told me you loved me. I let you touch me.”

Horror dawned upon Neteyam when he realised that they were not at all on the same page about the grave error of judgement they were speaking about. They were not even heading in the same direction. He was referring to his own misjudgement of keeping her in the dark about the proposition. She was apparently referring to her own error of judgement and that error was loving him. She was still rooted firmly in her belief that he had betrayed her.

Neteyam watched, momentarily dumbfounded, as Naia wept openly now. His nose twitched and he detected hints of her various emotions, all eddying around in a negative mixture that tainted her unique and sweet scent with a sour tinge. By Eywa, he understood then that she had spent most of the day and night steeping in the unbalanced state he now found her in. She was distraught and she was not thinking rationally.

His arms ached to reach out to her, but he had to be careful. He did not want to distress her further. He needed her to hear him out, “Yawntu (beloved), listen to me, please. It’s not what you think-”

But Neteyam’s words ground to a sudden halt when Naia’s arms shifted, lowering to hug herself about her waist and leaving her bare neck open to his view. His soul-gift was no longer around her neck.

A spear of panic shot through Neteyam and he gasped, “Naia, where’s the necklet I gave you?”

With a petulant sniff, Naia murmured, “Probably at the bottom the river I threw it into.”

The words were a dagger in Neteyam’s heart and his expression turned pained. His pain was followed by an unbidden surge of anger that flashed hotly through him and it manifested itself as a rancorous snarl.

Naia’s wrath spiked and she hissed in return. How dare he be upset with her?

In truth, she knew her words were a lie. The necklet lay tucked in the safety of her sling bag, but she had lied to spite him. She wanted him to hurt too. She had sliced the cord of the necklet from her neck with her dagger earlier amid her sadness, but she had not been able to fling it away. The soft part of her heart that would always yearn for him had convinced her to keep it; it was the only reminder she possessed of her time with him.

But as always, Naia’s wrath made her tongue sharp and she hurled yet another pointed barb at Neteyam, “Why? Were you hoping I’d return it to you so you can give it to Leylani now?”

The roar that tore from Neteyam’s throat was full of raw emotion; a potent fusion of his pain, frustration and regret, and Naia flinched violently at the sound.

Neteyam could see how the misunderstanding had occurred, and he acknowledged that his decision to hide the proposition from Naia had contributed to it. But what hurt him the most was the fact that she had been so quick to condemn him. She had not even waited to speak to him, to clarify, before jumping to the worst possible conclusion of his character. After everything they had shared in recent weeks, she still doubted his love for her.

“Woman! I swore my love to you not even two days ago!” Neteyam boomed, “Why do you-”

Naia interrupted once more and her voice rose to meet his, “Then why did you accept the council’s proposition and agree to mate Leylani? You didn’t even tell me about the proposition and you’ve known for weeks!”

“I know and I should’ve told you-”

“How can you expect me to believe you and trust you-”

“Naia, let me explain myself!”

“-when you kept this from me-”

“MANAIA, BE QUIET! STOP INTERRUPTING ME!”

Naia recoiled at his bellow and her mouth snapped shut in fright. Neteyam had never raised his voice like that with her. Ever. She could not recall a single incident even when they were younger of him losing his temper. She knew she could be argumentative and sarcastic, but he had always been calm and collected with her. At most he had become a little snippy, but he had never shouted at her like that.

Neteyam saw Naia wince and knew he had scared her. Her wide eyes were wary as she watched him. His first instinct was to apologise for his outburst and the words were poised on his lips, but he withheld them, and the frustrated part of him quipped that she deserved it. Interrupting was a bad habit of Naia’s; always had been for as long as he could remember.

Breathing deeply, Neteyam squared his shoulders and fixed Naia with a firm look, “You always do this, interrupt people when they’re trying to speak. Stop it. I’m going to speak now and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t interrupt me until I say I’m finished.”

Still stunned, Naia gave a meek nod in agreement.

Neteyam trusted her answer, but to be safe, he decided he get the short and sharp facts out of the way first, “I’m not betrothed to Leylani. I haven’t fully accepted the council’s proposition to reclaim my birthright. Tupou is over-eager to step down and he should never have said anything to Kikuna or anyone else this morning. He only gave her half the story.”

He paused and raised a cautionary brow when Naia’s lips parted to say something, but she kept her word and she pressed her mouth closed again.

“Tarsem came to me with the proposition three weeks ago, soon after I returned to the clan.” Neteyam continued in an even tone, starting his explanation from the beginning, “I declined outright, because even back then I knew it was you I wanted.”

Naia’s ears perked up at his words and a green shoot of tenderness sprouted through the black anxiety that blanketed her heart. Although the urge to ask questions was strong, Naia made a conscious effort to just listen to Neteyam as he explained the council events of the last few weeks to her. He described how his grandmother had convinced him to make a counter-proposal to the clan council, that he would reclaim his birthright if he was not obligated to mate Leylani. He explained how the council had taken the last two weeks to deliberate and had ruled this morning to deny him his request because they wanted tradition upheld.

“I didn’t tell you about the proposition because I was afraid.” Neteyam admitted, and his gaze was sincere, “I was afraid, at first, of scaring you away with how deeply I felt for you if you knew I was banking the entire situation on being able to be with you. And then after we became close, I was afraid you’d pull away and push me to accept for the greater good of the clan.”

Naia looked dubious, but remained silent like she had promised. She briefly mused to herself that Neteyam clearly thought her much more altruistic than she actually was. She would not have pushed him away romantically to force him to reclaim his position for the greater good. After so many years of pining and after the bliss of loving him for real, she knew she would have been selfish.

It was a bold move considering the taut situation, but Neteyam had seen Naia’s eyes softening as she listened and he reached out gently to pry her wrists from around her waist. He was met with little resistance from her and he pulled her towards him to wind her arms around his narrow waist, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I should’ve been open about it and none of this would’ve happened. And maybe if Tupou had shut up like he was supposed to too.”

“So why did Tupou tell Kikuna you accepted?” The words were out of Naia’s mouth before she could stop them, but it was because she sensed a lull in Neteyam’s flow of words as he was getting distracted running the knuckles of one hand over her cheek, and Naia wanted to know the rest of the story.

“Because Leylani stepped down this morning.” Neteyam breathed and Naia gave a sharp intake of breath at his words. He leaned down to kiss one corner of her mouth and then tilted his head the opposite way to kiss the other corner, “I told the council I would reclaim my birthright subject to the condition that you reclaimed your position as tsakarem.”

Naia pulled back a little to better regard him. Reclaim her position as tsakarem? The sentiment shocked her. She looked up into the face of the man she knew she would follow anywhere and give anything for. Her words eluded her though and she did not know what to say.

Neteyam filled the silence, “Only if you wish to. I’ll only reclaim my birthright if you will be the tsahìk at my side when I become olo’eyktan. But if you don’t wish to take that path then that’s fine too. I’m yours either way. You are what I came home for.”

A sudden and overwhelming shame overcame Naia and she felt rotten. With the actual truth of the situation now laid out before her, she perceived her irrationality and recognised how her inner demons had caused her to spiral into overreaction. She had assumed the absolute worst without giving him a chance to speak for himself.

Neteyam had apologised for his lapse in judgement. It was her turn now.

Pulling her hands away from his hips to cover her face when the burn of her shame forced fresh tears from her eyes, Naia whispered wetly, “Oh Great Mother, I’ve been so stupid today. I should’ve known better. I know you better. I’m so sorry, Neteyam.”

Hushing her softly, Neteyam enveloped her smaller frame in his strong arms and rubbed his cheek soothingly against her hair while she cried noisily into the crook of his neck. He felt her arms snake out from between their bodies to clutch at his back, her fingers digging with pressure into his skin, as if she was trying to press herself even closer to him. He noticed her body trembling slightly and he murmured by her ear, “Are you cold?”

Naia fought to control her hitching sobs and she shook her head, stuttering, “N-No. My muscles are j-just fatigued.”

Yet another realisation dawned on Neteyam and he remembered Naia’s ikran was out of action currently. Eyes widening in disbelief, he queried, “Did you make your way here on foot?”

“Yes.” Her response was barely a whisper.

Prying her gently away from his torso and stepping back to inspect Naia again from head to toe, Neteyam discovered her scraped palms and grazed knees. Her shins and calves were also littered with scratches and thin cuts from where, he presumed, the surrounding vegetation had whipped and snagged against her legs as she ran.

Neteyam cursed low under his breath, crushing her to his chest again and berating her softly by her ear, “You’re so stupid sometimes, Naia. It’s dangerous coming all this way on foot! You’ve hurt yourself.”

The gentle scolding only caused Naia to cry harder, “I thought I’d lost you again. I just needed to get away! I don’t know what I’d do if I had to live the rest of my life seeing you with Leylani!”

One of Neteyam’s hands cupped the back of Naia’s head against his shoulder and his other hand ran in warm strokes up and down her back, “How many times have I told you I love you? Why did you automatically think the worst of me, and Leylani too, huh?”

Naia winced a little at the recognition that she had also wronged Leylani. Sweet, sincere Leylani who was like a sister to her. By Eywa, she had been such a fool today. She did not know what to say. All she could do was repeatedly murmur wet apologies against Neteyam’s skin while she sobbed.

They stood together for a period and they remained enfolded in their standing embrace. Naia’s hitching sobs soon petered out and her breaths gradually steadied to the calming rhythm of Neteyam’s heartbeat. All the while Neteyam pacified her with whispered reassurances and gentle kisses pressed to the crown of her head.

Sniffling, Naia thought to herself that he was being too good to her. She felt undeserving of every hushed phrase and every small kiss he graced her with. Feeling much calmer now than she had since the afternoon, she snorted cynically, “You should be scolding me more. This feels like you’re rewarding my bad behaviour.”

A deep breath was pulled into Neteyam’s lungs, his muscular chest expanding beneath Naia’s cheek before it deflated again in a long sigh. Neteyam’s voice was hurt when he spoke, “I can’t believe you threw away the necklet.”

Biting her lip hard, Naia mentally smacked herself. With a grimace, she lifted her head to meet Neteyam’s pained eyes and squeaked, “I lied.”

“What?”

“I lied. I didn’t throw it away.” Naia admitted in a clearer voice, “I cut it off but I couldn’t bear to get rid of it, so I kept it. It’s in my bag.” She gingerly stepped away and moved to her bag, making a face when her thigh muscles screamed in protest as she crouched to fish the necklet out.

Cupping it preciously in her palms, she stood and presented it to Neteyam, shamefaced. The looping pendant and pearlescent beads were all intact and only the woven cord of it had been defiled where Naia had sliced it free of her neck.

Neteyam shook his head and rolled his eyes. He wanted to be angry with her, but he had never been the sort to hold a grudge and he forgave easily. Especially when it came to Naia. One look at her tear-stained face and beseeching gold eyes and his annoyance just fizzled out of him. He sighed once more, “I can make a new cord for it. And when I do put it round your neck again, it’s never coming off. Ever.”

“Sorry,” Naia peeped, her lower lip wobbling a little, “I’m sorry for overreacting and being stupid today.” Enclosing the necklet in her hands, she pressed a kiss to her closed fists. She returned to nestle it safely inside her bag again, not wanting to drop any of the beads or lose any.

“We don’t have this tradition in the Omatikaya, but the Metkayina have a ritual where everyone creates a gift for their intended mate. A gift from the soul that you present to the person you want to spend eternity with.” Neteyam said, watching as Naia’s face flushed deeply and her expression turned hangdog when she approached him again, “The necklet is my soul-gift to you. I don’t want you doubting what I feel for you anymore.”

Swallowing through an uncomfortably dry throat, Naia nodded, “I know, I just- I believe you, I do- but you can have anyone you want, so why-”

Neteyam heard and saw Naia struggle to express herself. It was unlike her in that she had always been quick-witted and well-spoken, but her self-doubt was plain as she stumbled over her words. No, he was not having anymore of this. If she could not truly comprehend through his words and actions how much he loved her, then he was going to have to show her that there was no doubt in his mind.

Closing the space between them, Neteyam silenced her stammering lips with a quick but fervent kiss before pulling away to declare, “I see you and I love you, Manaia te Txewì Ayepni’ite. Say you’ll be mine?”

The word ‘yes’ was just about to fall from Naia’s lips, but it was impeded by an abrupt gasp when she realised Neteyam had reached behind him to bring his neural queue forward from over his shoulder. The well of emotion inside Naia swelled almost to bursting point when perceived the true significance of what he was asking.

He was not simply asking her to commit to him exclusively. He wanted to bond with her, to mate her for life and beyond…

Neteyam added, “I’m sure of this. I want nothing more in this world. Your decision around whether you want to reclaim the role of tsakarem is irrelevant. Be mine, Naia, now and always?”

Naia’s heart sang for joy, the explosion of love in its depths a welcome reprieve from the icy ache that had besieged it for most of the past day. She felt the involuntary sting of tears in her eyes as her elation overwhelmed her. Thank you for this blessing, Great Mother…

Naia was unable to suppress the choked sob that slipped from her and she forced her vocal chords to work past the lump in her throat, “Yes, I love you. Of course I’ll be yours.” The dazzling smile she received in return was an image of him that would be forever imprinted into the core of her memories.

Reaching back to trail her hand down the thick braid of her own queue, Naia brought it between them to mirror his previous action. She felt Neteyam’s free hand come up to cradle her jaw, his warm fingers caressing her cheek. She placed one of her hands over the back of his and leant into the warmth of his palm. He leaned downward and she instinctively tilted her head up to his face, but it was not their lips that met this time.

Neteyam gently stopped to rest his forehead against Naia’s. They were so close that the swell of her breasts pressed against his ribs and their thighs brushed where he had one of his legs positioned between hers. Nothing existed but him and Naia in that moment, just the beautiful stillness of two souls about to be united in the presence of Eywa.

Slowly but surely, the knuckles of their hands met, bringing their neural queues together. The delicately curling tendrils of their queues interlaced with each other’s, twining into a radiant rope of blessed union. Tsaheylu.

The profound strength of their bond rocked them, their eyelids clamping shut and their mouths going slack for several moments while their hearts, minds and souls aligned. It was ecstasy like neither of them had ever known. Their hearts began to beat in time in their chests and a rush of emotion and sensation forged between them in a neural bridge.

Blinking several times, Naia’s eyes refocused on the physical image of Neteyam before her and she pulled her eyeline up to meet his. His eyes were a little watery, but a beaming smile was stretched across his face and Naia felt a surge of adoration reach her through their bond. Then, even though his lips did not move, she heard him clear as a bell in her mind. You’re so beautiful, my Naia.

An image of herself flowed through to her and it was surreal how she was looking at Neteyam with her eyes, but she also saw herself through his eyes. There were no words used to describe her, just his emotions and fragments of bright things and happy memories that he associated with her. She saw herself as he saw her and she was beautiful. Naia laughed, the sound pealing through the gently blowing leaf-strands of the Tree of Souls and Neteyam took her in his arms to kiss her passionately.

The neural bond between them was pure and harmonious, but there was another rising urge beneath their mutual flow of emotion that was beginning to engulf them. They were united mind and soul, and all that was left now to seal their bond for life was the simultaneous joining of their bodies.

Naia’s cool hands clutched at Neteyam’s shoulders and she pressed her torso tight against his, uncaring if the position meant her head and neck were craned almost all the way back to reach his face. She needed to be as close to him as possible, wanted him to be one with her body and soul. Neteyam had one arm looped firmly around her waist and its twin supported the back of her head while they lost themselves in the heat of their kiss.

It was as if they were entranced in a pleasurable daze, each fully aware of their own actions but also equally aware of the other’s. Time had ceased to pass, both entirely spellbound by the present moment they were sharing. There was no hesitation as they curled around each other on the mossy ground, arms and limbs tangling tight when they finally coupled their bodies in an intimate embrace.

The erotic pleasure was immense.

Their bond had forged between them an endless feedback loop. Naia experienced every single pulse and stroke of Neteyam’s pleasure as he moved within her, and likewise, Neteyam’s own rapture was heightened by the gratifying fullness and deep pleasure that Naia felt of him filling her. Every gasp and every moan; every kiss, every lick and stroke of hands and tongues was amplified, and all the while the depth their love was an over-arching certitude within their bond. When the crest of their pleasure eventually consumed them, it was overwhelming and experienced together at the same time.

Neteyam’s breaths were ragged by Naia’s ear, his body shuddering still through the aftershocks of their climax. He shifted and was about to raise his upper body onto his palms to roll away when Naia whimpered and clutched him to her. She looped her arms around his shoulders and hooked her ankles behind his lower back. He sensed her thoughts; she wanted to keep them joined.

I’m crushing you. Neteyam protested through their bond.

Roll us over. Came Naia’s drowsy response.

Neteyam carefully and gently rolled them onto his back and the manoeuvre was a success. They remained pleasurably fused and Naia grinned in carnal satisfaction where her cheek was pressed to his chest.

Physically, Neteyam chuckled and he sent a thought to her. We have eternity to do this now, yawntu.

Pressing a small kiss to his pectoral, Naia snuggled down against him. She had an answer for him now, had made her decision. Inhaling the musky scent of him through her nose, she sent him her answer. Yes.

Lethargic now after their coupling, Neteyam did not catch on and Naia giggled as his somnolence fed through to her through their connection. Cheekily, she poked him in the ribs, which earned her a jump and the sensation of sudden alertness at her action. She clarified this time. Yes I’ll be your tsakarem.

Naia felt a burst of approval from him and she felt him smooth his hot hands down her naked back, down until he cupped her bottom on both sides. He squeezed the soft flesh there and swivelled his hips, eliciting a sensual gasp from Naia when she discovered he was hardening inside her again. Evidently Neteyam was very pleased by her decision.

Pushing off his chest to sit upright, Naia let her weight sink down to take his entire length within her and a carnal moan purred from the man beneath her. She shot him a coquettish grin and raked her gaze slowly over the musculature of his torso, appreciating every solid line and ridge.

Neteyam was her mate now. He was hers forever. Naia could hardly believe it. All her girlish hopes and distant dreams during the years they were parted seemed so far away now in the face of the truth they would now live as one heart and one soul.

The sentiment was echoed by Neteyam and their mutual joy at being mated coursed between them in a brilliant blaze of heat. They made their vows to each other, the spirit of Eywa guiding their words as they were shared in perfect unison:

From now, you are flesh of my flesh and bone of my bone. What Eywa has made one shall never be parted; day or night, near or far, in sickness or in health. I give you my life and my love, even when the day arises and the Great Mother calls you home, I will remain yours thereafter, until such time they Eywa calls me home to be reunited with you again forevermore.

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

Author’s Note: Wheeeeee! Our two lovebirds have mated! Bring out the sugar, wine and the fluffies to celebrate!

This was supposed to be last chapter, but I’ve decided there will be a short epilogue that will be uploaded as the next chapter.

I’ve got some lovely fluffy ideas for the epilogue, but what would you all like to see? I’m happy to take requests, though I can’t guarantee I’ll use your idea(s) as it will depend on whether it fits with my vision of Neteyam and Naia. The epilogue will be set in the near future.

Share your thoughts and emotions with me, my lovelies. Throw me your epilogue requests. <3

Thank you again, as always, for all your support, comments and kudos. Writing for you all is such a JOY.

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chubs-deuce · 3 months

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I am... confused as to what age the other anon thinks Charlie is but if she was so young she wouldn't be able to canonly date Vaggie, who I'm pretty sure is in her 20s

So why wouldn't she be able to be shipped with Alastor? I think Rosie was just teasing him about bringing a girl to her, anyways. Introducing someone you're close to to someone else you're close to, I could see it as a big relationship deal and I too would probably tease my friend

Idk man :'D

Sounds to me like someone was just really jumping to the most surface level conclusions without much critical thinking, it happens.

I think the comment might've just made them think that Alastor is like. Canonically double her age or something, which is really funny considering the opposite is the case by a long shot. Rosie likely just said that bc he came in with a young looking, objecitvely very pretty girly, so it's an easy jab to make - it's just friendly banter between acquaintances. [some further thoughts I ended up having about aging in hell under the cut]

It's really hard to guess how old Alastor would actually be tbh since sinners' demon forms generally seem to hardly reflect their actual ages, so he could've honestly died in an age range that's anywhere from mid-20s to mid-50s.

(And at least based on how stubbornly driven to achieve his mysterious goals he is and how childishly petty, if not outright violent he gets when his authority, power and/or control are questioned; and the fact that he is finding himself with a bad deal at his hands now that he's struggling to escape - so I presume he accepted it recklessly, not something a wise old man would do - I'd say he likely died on the younger side of that range.)

And if he died in the 1930s and clearly managed to not get himself killed all the way into what I'm guessing is the 2020s, then that adds like 90 years of further existence in hell.

But that still only amounts to about 110-130 years total.

Charlie's 200+ years completely eclipse that lmfao.

That does make me curious though how old Vaggie actually is then, we don't know if she's a human soul that has been alive on earth before going to heaven and becoming an exorcist, or if she's a natively heaven-born kind of creation...

UItimately... these characters are all adults at the end of the day, and as such they could all do whatever they want, hypothetical age gap or not - it's honestly not like that sort of thing is even really something we can track in this "nobody ages once they're here and can only die at heaven's hands" sort of setting, so I don't see why it should matter that much ^^"

Like-

Say, hypothetically, you die at age 16 and go to hell, where you then continue to exist for an infinite amount of time. Are you now perpetually and forever a minor? Do you count the years you spend in hell on top of your human age despite not actually aging on a physical level in any capacity?

I'm gonna go on a limb here and say that bothering with age gaps in Hazbin Hotel makes little sense, since the inherent issue with those always boils down to unbalanced power dynamics and uninformed and/or coerced consent anyways - factors that are easy to define as bad and we all understand are objectively toxic.

#charlastor #not the focus but mentioned and tangentially considered in my ramblings but still #hazbin hotel spoilers #chubs answers

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escha-evenstar · 4 months

Text

Mafia AU Series

Chapter 1: Because My Heart Said So

Pairing: Mafia!Azul x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.7K

CW: brief mentions of death (unexplained cause)

A/N:

Hi hi! 🩷💜 It's been a while since I posted a story. I decided to start writing on this Mafia AU I've had in mind for some time now. There's not a lot of romance and action yet, not even an indication of being in the mafia, but I wanted to try and build up their relationship first and then.. well, we'll see how it goes! Hehe~ 💜🩷

PS: I'm not sure about my CW (content warning) but if you think there's something I need to add there (especially in the future where things get darker), please do tell me. Nicely please 🥺 Thank you!

PPS: I'm sorry I couldn't come up with a title so I'm just calling it the Mafia AU Series until I come up with something better. I apologize for being so indecisive T^T

Divider by @cafekitsune

The morning rays of sunshine passed through the windows of an elegant and beautiful mansion. The bright, golden sun enveloped the house and its surrounding garden with an ethereal glow. The place seemed to be brimming with warmth and life.

But the same could not be said for its inhabitants, especially for the young girl who lived there.

You.

Y/N. Daughter of F/N and M/N. Heiress to the L/N noble family.

It didn't used to be like this. Back then, love and happiness filled this home. Having warm meals together. Spending quality time with each other. Sharing fun stories about life. Those were your happy memories.

But ever since the untimely death of your father, things changed. Instead of being there for each other, it just brought you and your mother apart. She was always out and busy. You rarely see her and when you do, you don't even talk much. She just gives you a simple glance and a greeting before continuing what she was working on.

Gone were the days you ate with your family; it was just you, a massive array of food, and a long table with empty seats.

Gone were the days you spent quality time together; it was just you and your collection of books.

Gone were the days you shared stories about life; it was just you and your thoughts, alone and all by yourself.

And gone were the days you called this place your home. Now, it was just a big and lonely house. A house you were not allowed to leave from since the unfortunate accident of your father.

But what your mother doesn't know won't hurt, right?

Having enough of the monotonous and solitary life inside the house, you decided to sneak out when the sun has settled. You ventured out to the gardens after dinner and tried to find a way out. The moonlight was your only guide and you couldn't help but feel a bit frightened at the possible things that might come out from the dark.

Maybe I should just go back.

You were contemplating on what to do, but the light of the moon shined upon a corner space by the hedges, as if beckoning you to come closer to it.

You walked closer and realized that you could push it around to get enough space and pass through to the other side. You felt excited at the prospect of finally leaving and having a sense of adventure.

Maybe I can finally meet someone. I could make a friend! But then, not much people would be out at night. And I don't want to stumble upon any adults. They'd just take me back and my mother would find out.

You don't know what is out there exactly, but what else do you have to lose? With a huff of determination, you pushed through the hedges and dashed away from the house and into the forest. You discovered a pathway and decided to follow it, the moon serving as your light. To ease your nerves from the dark, you sang a song to yourself.

You don't know how long you've been walking and singing, but at the end of the road, you discovered a lake. It was vast, surrounded by the forest and illuminated by the white moon. It was breathtaking.

As you took in the view, you saw that there was also a small cabin right beside the lake. Curious, you decided to step closer and see if there was anyone inside. You peered at the window and saw no one. The inside seemed like someone was living there though. You could see a bed, some tableware, a pile of books, and..

Is that a coin collection? Wow.

You continued to check out the place until you heard a voice speak from behind.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?"

You turned around and came face to face with a young boy who looked about your age.

Short light-gray hair with a longer strand on his left side.

Ocean blue eyes that gleamed under the moonlight.

A beauty mark resting below his lips.

Tall. Handsome. Mysterious.

I wonder..

"Do you live here?" You blurted out.

He seemed taken aback by your question. "I was the one who asked you a question first."

"Oh, of course. I apologize. My name is Y/N, and I stumbled upon here after walking through the forest." You smiled at him. "What about you?"

He stared silently at you with a skeptical look. "It's none of your concern. I suggest you go back where you came from."

"But I don't want to go back yet. This is my first time going out of the house after years! I'm actually glad I met you here. At least I get to talk to someone. What's your name?"

The blue eyed person looked at you incredulously.

Were you.. trying to connect with him? How naive of you to trust someone you just met, he thought. One part of what you said had him curious though.

"First time?"

You nodded and explained your current situation. "My mother doesn't let me out of the house. I rarely see her since she's always busy with work, and when I do, we barely even talk. The other people at my house don't really try and connect with me so I don't really have anyone to talk to back there."

As you talked, he noticed the sad expression on your face as you looked down onto the ground. "Life has been.. pretty lonely for me. Just being by myself. No one being there for you. Feeling isolated from everyone else."

Somehow, your words stirred something within him. He resonated with you.

"I.." he said, which made you look up at him. "I can understand that. That feeling."

Your eyes slightly widen in surprise as you looked at him. "You do?"

He turns his back to you before sighing. "I do." He doesn't elaborate more on the matter, choosing to just gaze at the lake in front of him. It was quiet for a few moments, until you spoke again.

"I don't know what exactly happened, and you don't have to tell me anything. But if you don't mind me," you walked closer to his side and held his hand. "I'll be here for you," you said as you gave him a soft smile.

The silver haired boy turned to look at you, shock written on his face. "You.. you don't mean that."

"But I do."

"We just met."

"Then let's meet each other some more."

"What if I was a bad guy?"

"But you're not."

"And how do you know that?

You used your free hand and placed it on top of your chest, right where your heart was. "Because my heart said so."

He was astounded at your response before he chuckled. "Heh. You're so naive."

You giggled at him and squeezed his hand. "So, what do you say? Friends?"

Blue eyes meet your own e/c ones in a staring match, and then you felt him squeeze your hand back.

"...friends."

A big smile erupted on your face as you jumped up and wrapped your arms around him in a hug. "Yey!! Thank you, thank you! I'm so happy!" You continued to express your delight, unaware that your actions made him blush.

"Oh! That reminds me," you pulled away from him. "You never told me your name.

Your e/c eyes blinked at him expectantly, together with that bright smile of yours.

You looked cute.. wait, what?! He thought.

"Uhm.."

"Hmm?"

"It's.. Azul. My name is Azul."

"Wow! That's such a nice name. It suits you. I like it!" You beamed at him. "Azul."

"Yes?"

"Oh, sorry. I just.. wanted to say your name out loud. Hehe."

He felt the heat creep up on his face again, yet he couldn't deny that somehow, he liked hearing you call out his name.

"I should probably head back for now, but we should meet up again! I'll see you tomorrow?" You asked.

Azul nodded at you, making you smile and you bid each other goodnight. You were about to leave when you quickly turned around and gave him a quick hug.

"Thank you again for today. I'll see you tomorrow Azul!!" You said before finally walking back to where you came from.

...

The smile never left your face even as you lay down on your bed. Your mind kept replaying tonight's event over and over again. You were truly glad to have left the house and met someone. You even made a new friend!

I'm going to see him again. I can't wait for tomorrow to arrive. I can't wait to see Azul. Maybe I should bring something for tomorrow? I wonder if he likes cakes. Should I also bring some beverage? Maybe I'll get a picnic basket. We could have an after dinner snack.

You giggled to yourself as you thought of all the fun things you could do and talk about. Eventually, you fell asleep and for once, you had a smile on your face as you thought about one special person.

Azul.

...

Somewhere else, in a different manor, Azul lay awake. Normally, he would be asleep around this time, but his thoughts kept coming back to you.

He doesn't know why he just agreed to be your friend. Sure, you both felt lonely in life. But was that enough?

His mind went back to how naive you were, talking to a random stranger.

But then he also remembered how you smiled at him so sweetly.

How you held his hand and said you'd be there for him.

How you suddenly hugged him and he just felt... Safe?

Azul sighed. He said he wouldn't show himself as someone vulnerable anymore. That he would prove to them that he wasn't weak. That he was smarter and more powerful. He would prove to all those people that belittled him that he was better.

I'll show them. I'll get back at them and have my revenge.

Azul felt the anger within him start to swell, but it instantly mellowed down when you fluttered back into his thoughts.

He doesn't get it. Why did you have this effect on him? Azul sighed for the umpteenth time. He picked up a book from his bedside table and continued to read where he left off to distract himself. He soon managed to fall asleep, but a small smile graced his lips as the last thing on his mind was you.

Did you like my work? If you did, you can check out my blog for more! ^^

Masterlist here!

Thank you for reading! 🩷💜

#escha writes🩷#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader

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wayfayrr · 4 months

Note

You don’t have to do this one if it’s too much!! I just simp for twi and time so hard but I don’t wanna overwhelm you, please take breaks!! Ily :’DD

Soft fruit cake w eggnog to eat in?

I hope you'll enjoy your order this evening ~

Time is one of the links I'm less confident with writing, but he's still so much fun. He's a bit of a blushy dork in this one for you. <3

[Event masterlist]

“It's kinda comforting to know that Hyrule has the same traditions as home. Some of them anyway.”

Time isn’t focused on it, it seems off for him to be acting like this, unless he was lying to me? what reason would he have to lie about something so harmless though… it’s just gifts. Why would he ever need to lie as something as a tradition?

“You don’t actually have it as a tradition, do you?”

“What, no, we do. It’s part of the winter festival here.”

“Why do you feel the need to lie over something so small?”

Red illuminates his face at that, whatever has him so embarrassed over being called out for this? It’s so different from his usual stoic self too, not a bad change, just a sudden one. It makes me want to pry into what’s causing this even more than if he did manage to keep his cool.

“You seemed so excited when talking about it. I just wanted to do it for you.”

“But why lie, why not just be honest and just do it as a new thing?”

The red grows from his cheeks to the tips of his ears now, this new bashful side only becoming more appealing the more of it I get to see. Still though, it’s such a childish thing to get so flustered over. Like he’s a little kid rather than one of the oldest links here, not even able to make eye contact with me anymore.

“Well, never mind that. It doesn’t change the fact that we’ve both gotten each other a gift right?”

“I'd still like to know why you didn’t just admit it’s not commonly done.”

“You were so- hmph.”

He’s close to cracking on the reason why he’s lying about all all of this to begin with, if I push it a little more he’ll spill I can bet. I don’t even really mind what it is, it’s only sheer curiosity making me want to learn now. What reason is enough to lie over something so small for so long?

“Time - link please, I’m not bothered or anything, I just wanna know.”

“You just seemed so excited talking about your home and I know you’ve been homesick… So I just… Wanted to make you more comfortable.”

That’s it? I can’t deny that it’s not a sweet reason, it does feel very childish though, it really is like he’s just some love struck teen. If I were to close my eyes and focus… I could probably see his young adult self still dressed in that forest green.

“While I appreciate it, you really didn’t need to go that far for something so simple. I’m honoured though… If we’re not following strict traditions though… why not just give each other gifts now?”

“That wouldn’t bother you? I thought christmas day was what you said was important.”

“The thought of it is what counts above everything else, besides if you’re so worried about the day, I don’t know if it’s passed or not back home.”

The blush is slowly fading now, his fluster dying down till he looks more like his familiar lightly stoic self. Finally moving to sit down next to me rather than over at the opposite side avoiding looking at me but not before picking up his bag. Setting himself down with a sigh and a hand running through his hair. Hyping himself up by the look of it, it makes a lot of sense why he’s so nervous now that I know it’s his first time doing anything like this. I can probably take some of that stress away by simply giving him his first, hopefully, then he’ll feel less pressure.

“Here, I got this for you at the recent village -”

His surprise is cute, I knew it’d be worth it to hand-decorate some paper to wrap it with. Even though it’s torn in a matter of seconds, anything is worth it for him.

“I saw how you were looking at it for ages - don’t worry I brought it myself and not out of the supply fund. Do you like it?”

“You… I didn’t expect it… it was so expensive.”

So getting him a cloak and the armour polish he was staring at longingly was the right idea. Wiping my savings might not have been as good, but I can earn it back fairly quickly if the others are still as bad with bets. He’s blushing a little as he passes me two neatly wrapped parcels.

“This is for you then I hope you’ll like it as much as I did.”

My breath catches in my throat as I unwrapped the first, and I’m greeted with the most beautiful leather-bound sketchbook. A quick glance at him as he gestures for me to open the other. These art supplies must have cost him so much, watercolours here are rare, all of these charcoal pencils too.

“Time you -”

“You said you missed drawing, that you wanted your own supplies. So when I saw them I knew they would be perfect… you do like them right?”

“I love them… than you so much link.”

It’s a bit of a struggle to stop myself from tearing up from how kind it was, thankfully he seems to have taken pity on me now as he cuddles up with me next to the fire. Moving me to lay against his side as we watched it crackle late into the night.

#had to scrap the taglist cause it light shadowbanned my posts :/#I thought they got deleted when I posted em #linked universe x reader #time x reader #link x reader #oot x reader #moss✦writes #fruit✦cake

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onlycosmere · 1 year

Text

OUTSIDE by Brandon Sanderson

Snow is falling. So I look up.

The world mystifies when you stare up through falling snow. Even standing still, you can soar. Even alone, you are surrounded. Even mundane, you find magic. I’ve spent my life chasing the fantastical, yet everything I’ve ever imagined can be casually matched by someone tilting their head up. The soft. Settling. Aspiration.

Of snow on an otherwise ordinary day.

When I was eighteen, I moved from Nebraska to Utah. Here, snow is fleeting, embarrassed to be an obstruction. But in Nebraska, snow squats. It claims land, builds empires. You fight it all winter, carving pathways, reconquering your sidewalks. The cold digs inside, frosting your bones with a chill that lingers, even after you return to warmth.

I often think of those snowy days, now that I live in a desert. But each year my memories are a little less fresh. We build our lives with layer upon layers of years, like falling snow. And like the new snow, most experiences melt away. In interviews, I’ve been asked to recount my most frightening experience. I struggle to answer because it’s the lost memories that scare me—the unnerving knowledge that I’ve forgotten the majority of moments that made me who I am. Those dribbled away when I wasn’t looking and joined the spring runoff of life.

Fortunately, some experiences do remain. In one, I’m fourteen, and it’s a cold night in Nebraska. My best friend at the time was a boy we’ll call John. Though we went to different schools, he was one of the only other Mormon kids around, so our parents often had us play together. When you’re very young, it’s proximity—not shared interests—that makes friends. This often changes as you age. By fourteen, John had found his way to basketball, parties, and popularity. I had not.

On that day, after a youth activity, another friend suggested we leave to go have some fun. I don’t remember where. Strange, that I’ve lost what this was about, though the rest of the scene is etched into the glacial part of my brain. One of us was old enough to drive, so we headed out to their car.

Five seats. Six teens. They’d already counted.

Without a word to me, the others climbed in. John gave me one hesitant look, then settled into the front passenger seat and closed the door. They left me on the curb. The car vanished, taillights flaring in the night like lit cigarettes.

The memory settled in for the long winter. That night. Watching. Remembering John’s face, which was so strikingly conflicted. Half ashamed. Half resigned.

I was no stranger to being outside. It happens when you’re one of three Mormon kids in a large school. You’ll be at a birthday party, and the wine coolers will come out. Everyone stands there worrying you’ll judge them—while you just want them to stop staring. But you leave anyway, because you know they’ll enjoy themselves more if you and your unusual morals aren’t there to loom.

It should have been different that night though, watching John and the others drive away. They were in my church group—ostensibly, my tribe. They’d still left me outside.

This event shocked me in how dramatic it was, as I wasn’t generally bullied. I tended to be adept at social settings. People generally liked me. At the same time, there was something I’d begun to notice. Something distancing about me.

It happens still. It isn’t that people shun me or don’t want me around; indeed, they seem to appreciate me. When I join a group, I generally end up leading it in some way, and I never sense resentment to this fact. But I also have an air around me. Some writer friends call me the “adult in the room.” I tend to attack projects too aggressively, tend to be the one who steps in and gets things done—even when they don’t need to be done immediately, and when everyone else would rather relax.

This comes, in part, from a certain…oddity about me that started in my young teens, around the time that John drove off. As my friends grew hit puberty, they became more emotional. The opposite happened to me. Instead of experiencing the wild mood swings of adolescence, my emotions calcified. I started waking up each day feeling roughly the same as the day before. Without variation.

Around me, people felt passion, and agony, and hatred, and ecstasy. They loved, and hated, and argued, and screamed, and kissed, and seemed to explode every day with a pressurized confetti of unsettling emotions.

While I was just me. Not euphoric, not miserable. Just…normal. All the time.

Often, it genuinely seems like I exist outside of human experience. It’s not sociopathy. I’m quite empathetic—in fact, empathy is one of the ways that I can feel stronger emotions. I’m not autistic. I don’t have a single hallmark of that notable brand of neurodivergence. It’s also not what is called alexithymia, which is a condition where someone doesn’t feel emotions (or can’t describe them).

I care about people, and I feel. I’m not empty or apathetic. My emotions are simply muted and hover in a narrow band. If human experience ranges between a morose one and an ecstatic ten, I’m almost always a seven. Every day. All day. My emotional “needle” tends to be very hard to budge—and when it does move, the change is not aggressive. When others would be livid or weeping, I feel a sense of discomfort and disquiet.

My emotions do go a little further than this on occasion, maybe once a year. It takes something incredible—such as being deeply betrayed by someone I trusted.

I’m not looking for sympathy; I don’t want to be fixed. I appreciate this aspect of my makeup—and it’s part of what makes me so consistent at writing. When everyone else is in crisis, I’ll just steam along. At the same time, when everyone else is elated by some good news…I’ll just steam along, unable to feel the heights of the joy they feel.

It makes people uncomfortable sometimes. Makes them think I’m judging them. While I’m absolutely not, I do try to be careful how I talk about my condition. Not as something to fear. Something, instead, I’m proud of—not because it makes me better than anyone else, but because it’s me. I like being me.

My neurodivergence came up in a recent interview I did. The interviewer latched onto the fact that I don’t feel pain like others do. (More accurately, some mild pains don’t cause in me the same response they do others.) I asked the interviewer not to mention it in his article, as I felt the tone to our discussion was wrong. I worry about my oddity changing the way people think of me, as I don’t want to be seen as an emotionless zombie. So I try to speak of it with nuance.

As the interviewer ignored my request, I thought I’d talk about it here. Profile myself for you—because this aspect of who I am has deep ties to another happening from my teenage years. In this, I want to answer a big question for you, the one everyone wonders about. The key to understanding Brandon Sanderson.

Why do I write?

Why do I write so much?

Why do I write so much fantasy?

Let me tell you about the first day, that beautiful day, when I found myself inside.

It was when I opened a fantasy novel. I was an isolated kid whose emotions were doing something bizarre. Even John leaving had left me feeling…disturbed more than angry. Alone, and outside. Then I opened a book where I found emotion.

In that story about dragons, and wonder, and people trying impossible things, I found myself. I felt a variety of powerful emotions through the characters—emotions that I remembered from when I’d been younger.

I hadn’t tried reading fiction in a long while, so I was blindsided by this perfect book. The experience transformed me, quick as a boy tilting his head back, looking up, and finding a new world.

When I read or write from the eyes of other people, I legitimately feel what they do. There’s magic to any kind of story, yes—but for me, it is transformative. I live those lives. For a brief time, I remember exactly what passion, and agony, and hatred, and ecstasy feel like. My emotions mold to the story, and I cry sometimes. I legitimately cry. I haven’t done that outside of a story in three decades.

Stories bring me inside.

My second published novel is called Mistborn. It’s about a world where ash falls like snow, and I can linger, looking up through it via a character’s eyes. Near the beginning of Mistborn, the teenage protagonist finds herself standing outside a room. It is full of light and laughter and warmth. But she knows, she knows she doesn’t belong inside that room.

She’s wrong.

Nearer the end of the book, I linger on as similar scene—only now, she’s sitting with the others. Light and laughter. Warmth. Mistborn was the first novel I wrote after getting the call offering me a book deal. Finally—after slaving over a dozen unpublished manuscripts—I knew I was going to be a professional writer. With that knowledge, I wrote Mistborn, the book about a girl who learns to come inside.

While writing Mistborn, I changed. Now that I’d made it inside of publishing—now that I’d joined those authors I’d loved for so long—why would I keep writing? I needed a new goal, and I discovered it that year.

So let me tell you why I write. It isn’t about worldbuilding; that’s a mistake everyone makes about me. Assuming I write because of worldbuilding is like assuming someone makes cars because they love cup holders. It’s also not because I’m Mormon, as some profiles bizarrely conclude. My faith and cultural heritage are both important to me, but if I were any other religion, that aspect of me would rightly be a footnote—not a headline.

I don’t write for plot twists, or dragons, or clever turns of phrase—though I enjoy all of these. I write because stories bring people inside. And I sincerely, genuinely believe that is what the world needs.

Lately, I’ve seen a resurgence of something that genuinely disquiets me: an attempt by some members of our community to hold others outside. Science fiction and fantasy is forever gatekeeping what constitutes good or worthy stories. Like my old friend John, who sought cooler friends, we renounce anything accessible—part of our perpetual (and largely fruitless) plea for legitimacy with the literary establishment.

Thing is, I can’t really get mad when someone does this, because I’ve done it myself in the past. The unfortunate truth is that we all probably have at times. The moment a group finds cohesion—discovering the warmth and peace of being inside—we decide there aren’t enough seats, so we start muscling and pushing. Readers who came in because of the latest popular teen novel? Outside. Fans of the film version of a story, instead of the book version? Outside. People who don’t look the same as the supposedly conventional fan? I suspect they know this struggle far better than I do.

To use a thematic metaphor, it’s like we’re dragons on our hoard of gold, jealously keeping watch, worrying that if anyone new enters, their presence will somehow dilute our enjoyment. The irony is that there is infinite space inside, and if we open the way, we’ll find many of these newcomers are the very treasure we’re seeking.

Fantasy, out of all genres, should embrace the different, even if it doesn’t match our specific taste. This is the genre where anything can happen—and should, therefore, be the most open genre. Only fantasy offers me the full range of emotion. The wonder of exploration. The magnificent highs of epic scope and the miserable lows of cataclysmic terror. In writing it, I can learn. Monomaniacal, I hunt experiences of people different from myself, then explore them in prose until I feel—in some small part—what they do.

This is why I write. To understand. To make people feel seen. I type away, hoping some lonely reader out there, left on a curb, will pick up one of my books. And in so doing learn that even if there is no place for them elsewhere, I will make one for them between these pages.

Those who interview me seem to have trouble understanding this fundamental part of who I am: that writing for me isn’t so much about performance as it is about exploration and elevation. I love prose both literary and commercial. And I think I write great prose. I’ve slaved over my style, practicing for decades, honing it for crisp clarity. My prose is usually intended to convey ideas, theme, and character, then get out of the way—because this is how I strive to bring everyone inside.

That said, I know my goal is impossible. Occasional strolls through the outside are part of being human, and I can’t eliminate that. And even I have to admit that there are lessons to be learned on those lonely paths. For example, contrast is the only way to appraise growth. Emotional alien I may be, but that very alienation has motivated me to understand. I value the connections I’ve made so much more for that struggle.

Moreover, I find that occasionally looking in through a window at everyone else gives a person a more complete perspective. Inside, things can get messy, and a streak of color finds it hard to comprehend the painting. I’m a better writer because of my time spent looking in. I don’t know that I could have written Mistborn if I hadn’t been left on that curb.

This isn’t to discount the pain of those who have been forced outside. Nor is it an advocacy for extended periods spent in the cold. I also don’t know if I could have written Mistborn if the wonderful people of the science fiction and fantasy community (including many of the friends I now work with) hadn’t latched on to me in college and—at times—forcibly pulled me inside to be with them. Beyond that, as I’ve grown older, I’ve found people like Emily, who love me in spite of (and partially because of) my quirks. Blessedly, because of this, my times outside have been increasingly brief.

My goal here is merely to point out (as I’ve had occasion to remember recently) that beautiful moments do accompany the isolation. You can only watch the snow fall when you’re outside. Only then can you look up and experience that mystifying world, where fragments of the sky drift past and lift you toward the heavens.

I’m forty-seven now, enjoying desert snowfalls in early April. The man I am is separated by distance and time from that boy who stood on the curb, and I’ve forgotten most of the steps that led between the two. I still don’t feel strong emotions outside of stories—but I did tell an interviewer lately that I sometimes cry when writing scenes in my books. They just aren’t the scenes that I thought he’d expect.

I don’t necessarily cry when characters die, or when they marry, or even when they find victory. I cry when it works. When it all comes together, and in a beautiful shimmering burst of humanity, I feel what it is to be that character. At those times, I remember what I learned twenty years ago writing Mistborn. That there’s a reason I do this. And even if I’ve lost more memories than I retain, each of them had a point, because they collectively brought me here.

So when you find yourself in the cold, know that sometimes, there’s a purpose to it. Trust me; I’ve been there. I might be there right now. Feeling the cold on my cheeks—but these days, no longer in my bones. Knowing that this will pass, and that it might be for my good. Most of all, looking up so I can appreciate it. The still. Solemn. Perspective.

Of one who stands outside.

#brandon sanderson #cosmere #cfsbf #root #branderson #wob #kind of #long post

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legitalicat · 2 months

Text

Out of Time

Chapter 6 - "I'll Beg You Nice from my Knees"

AN: I am so sorry this took so long, I have had some medical testing done and had some health episodes so I couldn't dedicate as much time as I wanted to with this chapter. I hope you like it! This dedication has been removed. Also the title is a line from "All I Wanted" by Paramore cause that song went through my mind a lot during this chapter. In another life, reader would be with Erryk.

If you love this header go check out zaldritzosrose for more amazing work! She is tagged on the series masterlist and on my welcome post!

Please feel free to leave any thoughts below! Definitely not required but so appreciated.

Find the series masterlist here!

Summary: Three weeks. That is how long it took Y/N to get any of the men back in her company after the horrific dinner. She didn't spend the entire time angry, though. She just didn't understand what she did to make them avoid her. All she wanted was to have them.

TW: A lot of reflection on the Driftmark incident, a lot of anger, vaginal fingering, mentions of substance use, mentions of violence, angst, talks of injury, character death of sorts but in the past and not anyone major, profanity, Aemond being dirty af

Relationship: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader, talks of Jacaerys Velaryon x Twin!Reader, talks of Aegon Targaryen ii x Velaryon!Reader, Alicent Hightower x Rhaenyra Targaryen (not explicit but realized it's a thing)

Word Count: 4.8k

Mother and Alicent had come to help escort me back to my room after the dinner. Ser Erryk provided the physical support I needed while they were providing me some emotional. It was nice to be with them and not be expected to say anything about the dinner.

Time began to pass in a blur in a way that made me unable to distinguish the days from one another. I was aware of Mother and Alicent both agreeing, given how hurt I still was, that the homecoming feast should wait a few weeks. It was fine with me, as I did not want to even have a feast to begin with. The mornings were spent in the dragon pit with the children.

The five of them loved that I went with them. The keepers helped me to bring Vhaela out so that the two of us could get reacquainted while the kids learned with an adult dragon. It was always nice to spend time with her. Feeding her was one of my favorite things. She was so proud of herself when she blew fire to cook the meat provided she always looked to me for approval.

And in the evenings, I soothed my aches with a warm bath and biscuit. That part was nice too. Something about feeling the water wash over me as the fuzziness took over my brain allowed me to truly relax.

Well, as relaxed as I could be when neither of the men that declared my hand was theirs came to speak with me. At first, I would’ve only accepted them talking to me to apology for making a scene. Aemond and Jacaerys truly could not get past the stupid competition they alone create, and that had caused such a fuss so many times.

Then morning came and I just hoped one of them would at least come to check on me. Hours passed by that day and still neither came to find me. Even after sending my new handmaid, a young girl named Elayna Tyrell, to bring them to me, they did not come. Why were they avoiding me?

Though what made less sense was how Aegon avoided me. Correction. How he avoided me during my conscious hours was what didn’t make sense. I could tell by the way my pillow smelled of him that he would lay beside me as I slept. Knowing him he probably held me.

After it became several days without sight of any of them, I began to deflate. And then it became nearly three weeks. What did I do wrong?

Mother and Alicent were with me as the Maester were doing their daily examination. It was how I started most of my days. Mother and Alicent would bring breakfast to me and they sat with me until the exam was finished.

“Any pain the last few days?” he asked as he ran his fingers along my ribs.

“No. I have not needed to use the biscuits for physical pain, only at night to ease me to sleep,” I said to him. It no longer felt painful or inconvenient to move. My busted lip had healed. Finally I felt like myself.

“Any memories or visions further than what we’ve discussed?” he asked me quietly, so low that Mother and Alicent would not hear.

That was a more complicated matter. Every night I dreamt of being in complete darkness, only for the small red vial to turn up and be the only light source. I would walk towards it. Hours could pass and I would only be just approaching it, when a woman would appear just as it had.

This woman was devastatingly beautiful. Her hair and eyes looked to be made of flames, contrasting greatly against her pale skin. If one could imagine the ideal woman’s body, I believe they would imagine this woman. Full breasts yet an otherwise slender figure, the way any man preferred his whores. She constantly wore robes that matched the red of her hair and eyes. And around her neck laid a golden choker embedded with rubies.

This was not a woman I had memory of ever seeing. Believe me when I say she was so beautiful I know I would remember her. Her haunting my dreams every night was enough to make me certain of that.

None of that was new. What was, however, was her speaking. She would reach out, taking the vial in her hand, only to offer it to me while saying the words, “Gūrogon bisa skori ao jaelagon naejot sagon lenton.” It was Valyrian, and roughly translated to, “Take this when you want to go home.”

Only telling the Maester of this woman felt the best way to go about it. If Mother knew, she would tear the whole Kingdom brick from brick until she found this woman. I could not predict anyone else’s response nor did I really want to think about it.

“Nothing I am certain of,” I responded, which only garnered a nod.

He stepped away from my body and turned to Mother. “She is as healed as she can be. The damage done to her bones may always be there. You can feel an indent in the fifth and sixth ribs, where I suspect the bones ended together.”

“That will not affect her further?” Alicent asked him, speaking for Mother.

My jaw tightened. While I was not entirely sure what was going on between them, I was not a huge fan. Alicent speaking for Mother, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, as though she still had any right. How was it fair or possible that Alicent got to sit at the side of the Iron Throne for so long?

“No, Your Grace,” he said to Alicent before turning to look to me. “Though I would recommend caution. Bones once broken could be easier to break.”

“Luckily I have no plans of being further beaten or tortured,” I muttered, earning a sharp look from Mother. “Sorry.”

I thought it was hilarious. Though I always thought I was funnier than those around me. Jace found me funny.

“And what is your opinion on me flying?” I asked him. I was aware how eager I sounded.

“I see no reason to restrict you further,” he said.

Whatever else was said between Mother, Alicent, and the Maester was lost on me. Slipping behind the partition, I pulled on my riding dress.

It belonged to Mother when she was young, before the way her body changed with pregnancy. It was a simple black with grey fastenings. A slit ran up the middle of the skirt so that while standing it appeared to be a normal skirt, yet it parted when I would be mounted on Vhaela. Black scale accents adorned the shoulders and the lower quarter of the sleeves. The fabric was heavy, helping avoid any chill.

I did not do anything particularly special with my hair. The front section on either side, less than an inch, got pulled back away from my face into a small braid. With that, I was ready.

When I stepped out from behind the partition, the Maester was gone. Thank the gods.

“I do not think you should go flying yet,” Mother told me as she stood from her chair.

“You cannot stop me,” I said firmly.

“Y/N” she said, beginning to explain her reasoning.

“No. No. I have been reasonable and compliant this entire time. You two want to play house and pretend the past did not happen, and I have not spoken a word. You both prepare a grand feast that will happen in two days time and I accept it without argument despite not wanting it. Being poked and prodded by the Maester every morning before I even have finished my breakfast has been irritating to no end but still I stayed silent,” I said, feeling a fire build up inside of me. “I went eighteen years, waiting for a dragon while all my brothers’ eggs hatched! Aegon and Helaena had a dragon before I could even form a thought! Even Aemond had Vhagar by the time he was ten! And yet I only had weeks with Vhaela before five years was stolen from me!”

“Rhaenyra, she has a point,” Alicent said to her, taking her hand. The way Mother relaxed made me freeze.

That was what it was. Why Mother allowed Alicent a seat, even still. Why Mother had clung to the idea of the Alicent of their girlhood, even when Alicent was a nightmare. They were in love.

“You would need to chain me in the black cells to keep from her,” I whispered, stepping forward to take her hands in my own. “I am not leaving. I am not disappearing. But Vhaela more than anything is my birthright as a Targaryen.”

She looked between me and Alicent. I could see the thoughts brewing in her mind, trying to find a way to convince both of us to keep me here. Yet, I was my mother’s daughter, blood of the dragon. There was nothing keeping me where I did not want to be.

“Take Aemond or Jace with you,” she instructed me.

Despite not wanting to give them more opportunity to ignore me, I did not want to keep arguing with Mother. Any fight between Targaryens could turn explosive rather quickly. It is why I am grateful that there was no war for Mother’s crown. Had there been, I imagine our entire family would be gone, if not the entire kingdom.

Without another word, I left the room. Erryk was immediately by my side. His presence was comforting, as I found in recent weeks he was my greatest company. And in truth, he wasn’t a bad looking man either. If he hadn’t taken the oath preventing him from taking a wife, I may have said screw the other three and just chosen him.

“Where are we headed, Princess? I assume the Dragon Pit?” he asked as we walked. He looked me up and down, giving a small smile at my attire.

“First we need to find either Jace or Aemond,” I muttered.

“You have not desired to see them for a while now. What’s changed?” he asked me.

“I have been permitted to fly again. Mother, however, insists I take one of the two of them,” I explained. He said nothing else.

As we walked, I knew where both men would be. Aemond would most likely be in the training yard. Despite having been a very accomplished swordsman by his sixteenth nameday, he continued training just as obsessively as before. And Jace? On days like today, where the sun was hidden just enough to avoid hurting one’s eyes but glimmered through the clouds like a treasure waiting to be found, he liked to go down to the shoreline and watch the boats.

My heart pulled me in two different directions. Jace was who my head told me I should want. He truly had been my other half. There was no way I could ever exist without him. Yet still he stayed away. He was the type of person to use the silent treatment as a punishment. Whenever I had made him angry, he would go long bouts of time without saying a thing to me. The longest he went was three months.

Yet Aemond felt like who I wanted to spend time with the most. He was who I wanted to make see my side of things. These last few weeks had driven me crazy because he had refused to come to me. He had never stayed far from my side for more than a few hours if we were in the same place.

My heart decided I needed Aemond. I needed him like one needs to breathe. It felt as though without him life did not make sense.

Instead of turning right at the end of the corridor to leave through the main doors of the Keep, I turned left. It was the fastest way to the training yard. Well, actually, from my room there was a secret corridor hidden behind this dragon statue that lead directly to the training yard, with a few offshoots to get to other rooms around the Keep. But given the fact I don’t want many people knowing about it, including Erryk, it was smarter for me to take this way.

“You look well, Princess,” Erryk commented as we passed several members of Court.

Members of Court were lords and ladies who came from houses that felt they deserved to live among us, yet were evidently unimportant enough that they could abandon their holdings to play dress up with royals. In truth they disgusted me as a general rule. What bothered me was not that they were not royalty, I truthfully couldn’t care less about birth status. No, it bothered me that they would so carelessly abandon their duties at their own homes to come and live in mine.

Perhaps if they just were happy to live here it would not be so terrible. Yet, they would eat the food we had and take the benefits of being a member of court to live lavish lifestyles, all while spreading rumors of our lives. I did not like liars. I did not like people who benefit from lies they spread.

That’s not to say all members of Court were bad. When I was little I had a handmaid named Tarla Greyjoy who was absolutely lovely. She was kind to me, got along with the rest of my family without trying to insert herself into relationships. She didn’t try to get Jacaerys to marry her instead of me like some girls did. And most importantly, she was a very good secret keeper.

She had died when she was thirteen and I was fourteen. We had been sailing to Driftmark so that Jace and I could visit our grandparents, and naturally I had her with me. I didn’t know how scared she was of storms. We sailed right into one and in a panic, she slipped on the deck. To this day I don’t really understand, but she fell in such a way that her neck broke and she died instantly. I was inconsolable for days. She had been my friend for nearly ten years, stood by my side every day during that time. I missed her dearly, but if I gave her too much thought it resulted in a crippling panic attack.

When we stepped out into the training yard, it was not a surprise to see Aemond. He moved gracefully with every swing of his sword. It was like watching Caraxes do his mating dance for Syrax in a way. Which if I were honest sounds a lot dorkier than it was.

He didn’t notice me at first, I don’t think. He was solely focused on his opponent, who I vaguely recognized as another member of Court. The opponent came from a lesser house, I think House Redwyne, and those types of men always liked the chance to get close as possible to us. They also always liked to flirt with Helaena and I to try to make us fall in love and get all gooey when we see them so they can improve their station.

With a swift jab of the sword’s pommel into the shoulder from Aemond, the Redwyne lordling stumbled. In mere seconds, Aemond swept his legs out from under him then held the tip of the sword to his throat. I couldn’t help but to smirk.

Aemond hadn’t used wooden swords to train since about a year after he lost his eye. He said there was no joy for him in it if there was no danger in it. To me, it always sounded like he secretly wished to be injured again.

Mother allowed me to stay by his side for a month after the incident in Driftmark. That month was the worst time of his life, I think. He had to begin to relearn everything before he had even stopped feeling pained from his injury. His depth perception was completely off which hindered his ability to feed himself, to traverse the Keep by himself, or really do much of anything.

He was angry, too, angrier than I had ever seen him. He was angry at my brothers, my mother, his mother, even the gods could’ve feared his wrath. Yet, I was the one person spared his anger, and all he wanted was for me to stay by his side. His reasoning?

That night on Driftmark, I told the truth. That Aemond had woken me up to share with me the chance to claim Vhagar. That when he got back from his inaugural flight, Rhaena was angered by his claim on Vhagar. That her and Baela’s anger caused them to attack Aemond. That he pushed me out of the way before defending himself. Then my brothers jumped in, and eventually it became all of them beating Aemond.

I think what really sealed it that night, at least for Aemond and especially for Alicent, was that I confirmed it was Jace who had brought the knife. He was the one to introduce it.

Jace filled in the words. How Aemond was vicious and violent in his words. That Aemond had called my brothers bastards. Which Jace made sure to glare at me that night as he said that, as to remind me that meant Aemond called me a bastard. And he made sure to point out that Luke only did that to protect his family. Completely ignoring the fact that Aemond was family.

I want to be very clear that I do not believe Luke should have lost his eye as punishment. Alicent suggesting that made my stomach twist and turn back then, and still does to this day. I do, however, believe that my brothers never received punishment for anything they did.

Like why did it matter more to Mother the words that Aemond said rather than the fact her sons were among the attackers? Why did Jace continue to get to carry a knife while I returned home and was forbidden from Jace’s side for three months? When it was I who saw that the actions of those four weighed just as heavily as the words of Aemond? Why did Mother completely forget that Jace made Aemond’s life hell for not having a dragon, making him feel lesser than, while I sat there and listened to him belittle someone in the same position I was in?

And to be honest, it wasn’t as though Aemond was wrong. Yes, it was technically treasonous of him to say it out loud. But again, he wasn’t wrong. Vaemond Velaryon was not wrong. We are bastards. Our blood is Harwin Strong. Not a drop of Velaryon blood resides in our veins. Though, they could’ve said it less disgustedly.

It was doubtful anyone could understand how frustrating these thoughts are. They made me feel as though I betray Mother and my brothers by acknowledging the circumstances of our birth. But, if I denounce Aemond for speaking that, it is like I am calling him a liar, which he isn’t. Truly, it feels like no matter what I feel about that situation, I am screwed.

Aemond noticed me at that point. Given the way his head snapped up in my direction, I imagine I let out a grunt of frustration. He looked almost ashamed when he saw me.

Good.

“Prince Aemond, a word if you will,” I said loudly to him. We were about five feet apart, so I did not have to practically yell it to him. But I spoke louder than needed so that he would have no choice.

Wordlessly, he put his sword in its scabbard and walked over to me. Just having him within arms reach again was enough to make me feel my heart rate increase. Fucking Seven Hells, I love him so much.

“Princess,” he said quietly, giving me a subtle nod of his head.

“You are to accompany me in flight, as requested by Her Grace the Queen,” I told him firmly.

Sometimes, I really liked pulling rank. It was truly the only thing he would listen to at times. He was annoyingly stubborn. Not in the way that most anyone with a cock was, but in a special and overwhelming way.

“And where are you wishing to go, Princess?” he asked me.

“I think perhaps Felwood. A short flight from here, three hours tops,” I said, shrugging a bit.

He nodded and motioned for me lead the way. I tried to relax my jaw as it tightened in annoyance. He was still wanting to put a distance between us.

“Ser Erryk, you are dismissed for the time being. I shall seek you out when I return,” I said to Erryk. The sweet knight nodded and took his leave.

Now there was no buffer between Aemond and I. He could not feign interest in anyone else’s life. He could not ignore me.

We walked in silence from the training yard, though he did still give me his arm to hold. The walk from the Keep to the Dragon Pit typically talk about an hour and a half. They were about five miles apart. When I went there with the children, we always took a carriage. When I was with Aemond, though, he preferred the walk.

Passing by several shops on the streets of city, several shopkeepers and their patrons stared at us. I wasn’t entirely sure why but they had never approached us. Mother always feared they would mob me. Though they didn’t seem to care most of the time. Maybe it was because I had spent so much time among them they saw me more as a person.

“It wasn’t just us that missed you,” Aemond said quietly. I looked to him immediately, my heart speeding up as he pulled me closer. “The people of the city missed you as well.”

He was probably right. Before my disappearance, I worked hard to gain the love and respect of the citizens of King’s Landing. It wasn’t that I needed everyone in the world to like me. But I knew, more than anything, that one day these people would be my people. One day I would be their Queen. And it is easier to rule people that love you.

“You hurt me,” I told him as we kept walking.

He sighed rather loudly. “I know.”

“I’m not speaking of the dinner, Aemond. Which, by the way, was a dick move for a lot of reasons. But I’m talking about the fact that today is the first time since that you’ve spoken to me,” I said.

I was trying desperately to hold my voice steady. Every part of me wanted to scream at him. It wasn’t even necessarily anger that made me feel this way. It was just there was so much crap in my head and in my heart, and he didn’t seem to get it.

“I was embarrassed,” he admitted.

“Gods, I can’t imagine why you would be,” I muttered rather harshly.

Immediately, he went back to being quiet. I wanted to kick myself in the head. Why did I have to say that?

This was not the first time in my life I had said something that caused instant regret. Hells, it was not even the first time since I’ve returned that I’ve done it. I tended to speak before I thought at times when I really should just be quiet.

The rest of our walk was in silence. In the near hour and a half it takes to walk from the Red Keep to the Dragon Pit, he only said maybe twenty words to me. I longed for his voice, his declarations of love. Yet, because of who I am I could not receive them.

Aemond discussed with the keepers that we wish to fly. He spoke quietly with them, so quietly it was obvious he did not want me to hear, telling them they only need bring Vhaela. They had nodded in understanding near immediately before shuffling off to bring Vhaela to me.

“You do understand the rules are I have to take you with me, yes?” I asked him, raising an eyebrow.

“I shall fly on Vhaela with you,” he said simply.

My face heated up as blood rushed to my cheeks. Aemond had always told me that I needed to fly on a dragon before I had my own. So we went weekly into the skies, grateful to Vhagar that she was so good. The last time we rode on the same dragon was before I had Vhaela. It was not the feeling of flying that I remembered from that trip. No, it was the feeling of his cock buried inside me that was the only thing I could remember.

I caught him looking at me and smirking. That caused my cheeks to heat up even more. My breath caught in the space between my lungs and my throat and a fire burned inside me, nestled in the svalley between my thighs.

“You remember,” he said quietly. We were all alone in this moment.

“How could I not?” I whispered. Feeling emboldened by his obvious or perhaps just stupid, I changed our position. Now I stood chest to chest with him.

“Which part do you remember most, my love?” he whispered to me. His hands found my waist to hold me close. Though they didn’t stay there, slowly working their way back and down.

I took a deep breath. He was looking at me with such an intensity it felt like he could burn a hole in my soul. All I could think was how the ache between my thighs was becoming overwhelming. If he could hear my heart, he would hear it thudding against my chest harder with every passing second.

“Or how about you tell me your memories of it?” I whispered, smirking up at him. “After all, you’re the one who needs to make up for your behavior.”

He chuckled as his hands worked their way over my ass and around to my front. “Always been a brat, haven’t you? Can’t do as you are told?” he asked. His voice was quiet and deep.

“I listen to those who deserve it,” I said to him. My breath caught in my throat as his fingers moved past the parting of my skirt. They brushed against my clit through the thin material of the shift I wore underneath. The touch was so light one could miss it.

“And if I beg you for forgiveness?” he whispered, watching my face intently as he increased the pressure of his touch. There was no denying the pleasure of it.

“Get to begging,” I practically commanded him. I couldn’t help but to inch my hips forward.

Gods if I had any ounce of self respect I would push him away. I wouldn’t allow him to touch me like this without a proper apology. In fact, I perhaps should’ve championed for Aegon to accompany me just to prove my point to Aemond. That it was not fair of him to ignore me when I had done nothing wrong.

But as he rubbed my clit through the flimsy skirt of my shift, I couldn’t help but lean against him. My forehead was pressed against his chest, my breathing becoming ragged. I gripped his wrist tightly as I felt that all too familiar band tightening behind my navel.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered when I finally let out a breathy moan. “Should’ve been doing this for you the entire time. I promise, baby, I won’t be so stupid ever again.”

With his free hand, he lifted the shift up enough to where he could touch my clit directly. I let out a loud moan, one that caused him to chuckle. His thumb stayed firmly pressed against my clit, moving in tight little circles, as he moved his other fingers to my entrance.

“So wet for me, baby,” he whispered in my ear before pushing his fingers inside. Right off the bat he started with two. His fingers were long and slender, feeling heavenly inside me. “You deserve the world you know that?”

“Fuck, Aemond,” I moaned as he pumped his fingers in and out.

He eagerly worked my cunt as he continued to rub my clit. My grip on his wrist tightened as I began seeing stars.

“That’s it, such a good girl,” he praised me as the band behind my navel finally snapped. Orgasmic bliss washed over me. “Such a perfect girl. Do you forgive, princess?”

I only just managed to pull myself away as the Keeper surfaced with Vhaela in tow. Aemond was smirking at me. He maintained eye contact with me as he brought his fingers to his lips and licked them clean. I swear to the gods he moaned.

“Perhaps,” I told him quietly, smirking a bit before walking over to Vhaela.

#dividers by benkeibear #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader smut #aemond targaryen smut #rhaenicent #out of time

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