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bananami · 3 months

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STFUATTDLAGG

character/s: choso kamo x afab!reader

SYNOPSIS: meangirl!reader x loser!choso is a pairing that lives in my head rent free so when you all voted for choso to be the next hot man i wrote for i knew this was what would come out of it so let’s get into it whores

WARNINGS: this is college based bc u know why. 18+, nsfw, mdni, the whole shebang, kiddos avert ur eyes IT'S ALL SMUT / also just be aware i did use fem language for reader. as always, i did not proof read xxx

A/N: delusion is like drugs for simps, and i am the crackhead

Choso isn't like a nerdy loser, more like he’s just an emo boy, he’s got that alternative look going on and in a school full of preppy rich kids he stands out like a sore thumb. Of course this leads to some not so nice kids being not so nice to him, to which like he literally could not care less. He pays no mind to what anyone thinks of him beyond of course what his brothers think of him.

And as much as people aren’t nice to him, they do not fuck with him directly, lowkey scared of his reactions. Especially following a specfic incident in which someone tried to pick a fight with him. At first he was going to just let it slide but then they said something rude about Yuuji and this man laid them out. People were sent to urgent care and everything. Choso was put on suspension and almost kicked out, but their family friend is a lawyer and threatened to sue the school and anyways (if you know who you know who) so he was allowed back at school and everyone’s a little weary of him. This doesn’t stop the mean comments from coming.

And you. You’re no exception. You made fun of him every chance you got. The way he always did his hair in that weird double bun updo, or how he had his nails painted black, his various piercings and tattoos, the way he dressed so much different, was so much different, than any of the other guys you knew at school.

And you were so disgustingly attracted to him. While everyone would sneer and make fun of him and you played along, in reality you were internally berating yourself.

Choso did his best to ignore you but to be honest in the end you were just too fun to mess with. He thought it was cute how you thought you could hurt his feelings, how you really tried, and didn’t realize that he had a thing for brats and that’s just what you were. Everyone else was too afraid to say it straight to his face ever since the fight except for you.

One time he caught you staring at him and he couldn’t help himself, leaning over with a careless smirk. "If you spent less time staring at me and more time paying attention to the lecture maybe you wouldn’t be failing the class."

"Fuck you, Choso.”

"You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You hoped he’d mistake your embarrassment for anger. He didn’t. You snapped back, as usual. "Maybe if you didn’t dress like such a freak, you’d actually have some friends.”

"Maybe if you weren’t such a bitch your boyfriends would actually stick around for longer than a few months."

The one stung, and you tried not to let it show. Thrown off your game, all you could bring yourself to reply back was: “don’t call me a bitch.”

He shrugged, as though he were bored with the conversation already. "I never said it was a bad thing, just that you keep dating dudes who can’t handle you."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He doesn't answer though, and you spend way too much time thinking about what he could've meant. Was he implying that he could handle you? Was that why he constantly found ways to poke at you? Did he like when you were a brat? Did it matter if he liked it? It led your fantasies down a deep and dark rabbit hole that you spent weeks harping on.

Things get even worse after you realize that Choso might’ve been right about your grades slipping and staring at him in class and whatnot. And (for plot reasons of course) that would mean your professor paired you up with him for the final project so that you’d stand a better chance at passing the class.

Which is how you find yourself standing outside of his apartment door, debating how much you need to actually pass the course for your degree. You kept coming to the same conclusion. You definitely needed to.

"You just gonna stand at my door like a creep or can you move so i can let you inside?” He stood at the top of the staircase up to his apartment, watching you with another bored expression.

You're reaction is second nature. "I’m the creep? How long were you just standing there watching me? Maybe I’d already knocked and you didn’t answer so I was waiting. Let’s get on with it, I don’t need anyone seeing me hanging around-”

"Alright relax, princess. No one’s around to hear you act like you hate me. Come inside and I’ll grab us something to drink.” He opened the door to let you both inside, holding it open for you to enter first.

"First off, I do hate you. And second, how do I know you’re not going to poison me?”

"Don’t worry, I wouldn’t poison you. The plan was going more in the direction of choking.”

"Choked to death? Good to know.”

"You implied killing. All i said was choking.”

"Oh, gross.” You groaned. You pushed away the images that were brought to your mind. Choso's hand around your throat, fingers in your mouth, his breathy whispers telling you what else he'd have you choking on by the end of the night.

It's not too bad for the first few hours. You start out working on the project in the living room, but Choso’s neighbors are loud as all hell and you eventually ask if you guys can move into a room away from that shared wall. And (of course for plot purposes) that would be his bedroom.

"Your bedroom is exactly as I pictured it would be."

"This is the part where I make fun of you for picturing what my bedroom looks like."

"Yeah weird and creepy, just like you.”

"Your insults are getting less and less creative.”

"Yeah well….shut up.”

He’s surprised at that, usually you’d come back at him with something witty and clever and he actually enjoyed it.

It’s quiet and he’s sitting at his desk while you lay casually on his bed when he decides now’s as good a time as ever, and he might never actually get you alone again to say it.

"You ever gonna admit that you find me attractive or keep lying to the both of us?"

You wince. "I don't find you attractive. Stop flattering yourself."

"You flatter me enough with all the staring and drooling you do over me in class."

"You're obsessive," you snap at him.

"At least i can admit it."

You're caught off guard, stuck between wanting to ask what he means and not wanting to give in to the obvious baiting he's doing. When he throws the study material down on to his desk and plops down in front of you on his bed, it seems like he's resigned to not giving you that choice.

"Tell you what, I'll tell you all of the dirty and depraved things I think about on a daily basis, and you can decide after whether you'd like to share those same thoughts of yours with me or not."

"Why would I want to hear any of the thoughts in your head?"

"Because a lot of them revolve directly around you." He's leaned so close you're almost touching one another. Your silence is enough to spur him on. "I think you've never been fucked properly before."

You can't contain the look that falls on your face. "Seriously? This what you think about? My sex life is none of your business, but I'm doing just fine in that department, thank you very much."

He ignores you. "I don't think you've ever been told to shut the fuck up and take it like the good girl I know you can be." That shut you up real quick. Choso is on his knees in front of you, hands cupping around your neck, his thumbs running across your cheeks. "You're whiney little fucking attitude not do it for your boyfriends?" He teased. "They not know how to deal with you when you're being a brat, huh?"

You're head moves without conscious effort, nodding to agree with him.

"You just want some attention, don't you?"

Another nod.

"You want my attention, don't you?"

Hesitation. But you can't help yourself, his presence looming heavy over you, pushing you to admit what you'd kept in the dark for so long.

One of his hands slithers from your throat, down your chest, under the sweats you threw on in a rush to get to his apartment. You're so distracted by his fingers that you don't notice his face moving closer until his mouth is prying yours open. That's all it takes from him to have you stroking your fingers through his hair, pulling it out of the buns they typically are held in.

"Such a little brat." He's hovering over you, pushing your hips into the soft cushion of his bed with his. "Feel how hard it makes me?" He teases as he grinds his hips down, his clothed cock sliding against your center. Your eyes flutter and he grips onto your face with one hand, squeezing firmly. "You're gonna fuck me tonight. Nod if you understand."

You can't believe how quick your head moves up and down. "You're gonna take off those pretty little panties you wore hoping I'd get to see and slide up and down my dick until I tell you to stop. I don't want you cumming until I feel you've begged enough."

It takes no time at all for him to flip the two of you and prop himself up on his forearms. His pants are shimmied off and thrown to his bedroom floor alongside yours.

Your hands are desperate to line him up, anticipation building to have him deep inside of you, but his shoot out to pull them up and place them against his chest. "No, no, no. You don't get me inside you yet, not until you prove to me you deserve it." He urges you along his shaft, flat against his stomach. "That's right, be a good little slut for me and let me feel that pussy slide against my dick."

You watch him from above, his face contorting from concentration to pleasure to near desperation. You've never felt as powerful as you did riding him. Not a single one of your boyfriends ever turning you on as much as Choso was right now. He made you work for it, praising you when you did what he asked, and you chased that praise.

"Shit, look at that baby," he grabbed your hair and yanked your face down to watch yourself slide against him. "Need to feel you squeeze that pussy around me. Fuck, slide me in, slide me in-" his loud groans matched your high pitched sound of relief at having him seated inside you. "Fuck this."

He flipped the two of you back over, gripping each of your legs and forcing them up. "Hold right under your knees for me. Good girl, keep yourself open for me, let me just use you." He fell to his forearms as he plowed into you, giving you no time to get used to any sort of pace.

You tried your best to hold your legs, but you wanted so badly to touch him. One of your hands wandered back up into his lose hair.

He could barely keep his eyes open, mumbling all kinds of truths you were sure he would've kept locked inside had he not been so drunk on the feel of being inside you. "So fucking pretty," he kissed you sloppily, "such a stupid fucking brat, just needed my cock inside you. Feel like heaven, baby. Gonna let me cum inside your little cunt, right? Made me wait so fucking long to have you, I deserve it. Don't I deserve it?"

You can barely form any coherent words, setting for nodding and breathy uh huhs.

"So fucking mean to me, and look how good I'm being to you, huh?" You feel the light slap of his head against your cheek. "Say your sorry, beg me to cum inside your pussy."

You do beg, your apology comes out in between the stuttering and slurring of your words, but you beg and plead with him until he concedes. It his own orgasm that pushes you over, his groans and relentlessness that follow, pushing himself passed the point of no return. You can see the beginning of what looks like tears in his eyes, and he has to force himself to stop, his hips jerking from the overstimulation.

He kisses you ruthlessly, letting his tongue claim your mouth in a manner more harsh than it is anything else. And when he pulls away and his eyes settle back on yours they're equally as harsh.

"No more shitty little boyfriends that can't handle you. I'll handle you. You want my cock, you ask nicely. Understand?"

"Yes," you let your lips peck his, surprising him, "what if I don't wanna be nice about it?"

He smirks, "try it and find out. Now get on your knees and suck my cock like the good girl I know you can be."

#choso x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #choso smut #jjk choso #choso x you #choso x female reader #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo #jujutsu kaisen choso

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cherrysnip · 4 days

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i hate you (affectionately) — jeon wonwoo

pairing: wonwoo x reader

content: fluff, college au, tutor!won, junhui is your twin brother

wc: 770

"Hey Y/n? Are you okay? Why do you look so glum?" Your older brother Junhui pinched your cheeks waking you up from your reverie. You just sighed and removed his hand from your face.

"Maybe I really did something bad on my past life to deserve this punishment," you shook your head in dismay. "Why do you even have to suck all the genius blood in our mother's womb and then left nothing for me? What a twin brother you are."

Junhui let out a hearty laugh. He's obviously enjoying this. "So you're being like this because Wonwoo is tutoring you?"

"Do you really have to ask?" you hissed at him. "You could've at least convinced Mom that you'll just be the one to tutor me. You're one of the top students, for God's sake!"

"Yes, but I'd rather not do that because one,” he held up his hand before you and folded a finger. “You're unbearable and you always have a lot of things to complain when I'm teaching you. Two, I have better things to do and three, I'm helping my bestfriend earn his voluntary work hours."

"Just say you love your bestfriend than your own sister."

"I don't. I still love you more. But this might prove beneficial to you in the long run, just give it a shot."

"And how would it benefit me? I would have to spend an hour a day with your prick of a bestfriend! Do you know how torturous that is for me?"

"Well, I think not as torturous as me having to put up with all your unreasonable whining," said a familar voice which was obviously not Junhui's. You turned around only to find the person you have been badmouthing right now. He's still wearing his university uniform with his spectacles on.

Okay. It's hard not to notice that he looks so handsome with it but of course, you're not gonna admit that out loud.

"Bro, you're finally here!" Your brother greeted him and they did this fistbump thingy they always do when they meet each other. "Just please pretend you didn't hear what she said. She didn't have her daily fill of coffee so she's a little dramatic right now."

"She's always dramatic," Wonwoo shrugged. "I'm used to it by now."

You automatically groaned in annoyance, "Don't talk that way about me like I'm not here!"

They both stared at you for a second until Junhui tapped Wonwoo's shoulder. "I'm gonna leave her to you now. I know you can handle her."

Wonwoo nodded, "I guess I have to try my best."

Before you could hear any more of their snide remarks, you already turned around and marched your way to the study room where you will be doing the tutoring session.

It didn't take long until Wonwoo finally followed you. He put down his things first on the table before looking at you.

"Y/n," he calmly called and you swear you could feel his stare digging to the deepest part of your soul. "Won't you give me a hug?"

Your lips broke into a wide smile as you rushed over to him and encircled your arms around his neck. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, babe. Haven't seen you in school the whole day and when I finally came here, I had to hear you call me prick," a hint of sulking was etched on Wonwoo's voice.

"You know I didn't mean that," you said and cupped his face using both of your hands. "I just had to put up a show to my brother. I had to hide my excitement or else he'll know."

"Truth is, he already knows Y/n..."

"What?"

"Jun already knows were together," Wonwoo chuckled upon seeing your shock-stricken face. "He actually set up this whole thing. You know he could tutor you himself but he convinced your Mom that I should do it."

"I bet that's why he was laughing at me earlier. I might've looked so stupid. He's really a menace! He should've just told me the truth," you buried your face in his chest while he tightened his hold on your waist. "And you even agreed with him on calling me dramatic!"

"Because it's true?" he teased which earned him a slap on the back from you. "Nonetheless, it's still one of the many things I love about you, Y/n. It's part of your charm."

You giggled upon hearing what he said, "Should we just go on a date?"

"No," he replied. "We should get some tutoring done today or your brother would wring my neck."

--♡--

#seventeen #svt scenarios #svt au #svt #svt reader #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x you #wonwoo x y/n #seventeen imagines #fluff

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torukmaktoskxawng · 8 months

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tsamsiyu ta'em - strangers like me

Masterlist - part ten

Summary: Kayla continues to learn about island life with the Metkayina and also learns a bit more about her teachers along the way. Tonowari and Ronal find their student strange and intriguing.

Pairing: Ronal/Tonowari/Original Female Character

Tag: #tsamsiyu ta'em fic

posted on ao3

Word Count: 6k+

Taglist (bold indicates "could not tag"): @motheroffae @undeniableadrenaline @mooniequeen @shit-i-say-shit-i-think @heart-an0n @amiets2 @slutforsmut4ever @yeosxxx @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @sucker4angstt @inolaphoenix @ilovechickenwings tojisleftarm andyfromku @ivysully

A/N: I am so sorry for my absence! I wish I have a good excuse for being absent, but the truth is I'm not doing so hot in the real world rn. My job is cutting back hours and I barely have enough for rent. I'm getting a second job next month so hopefully, things smoothen out.

Here is the long-awaited update that I will kick myself for delaying in exchange for obsessively crying over Good Omens Season 2. Let the montage of Awa'atlu life commence! Again, thank you for your patience and I hope you enjoy!

Note: The title is named after the Phil Collins song "Strangers Like Me" because Tarzan and Avatar just go together XD

To avoid having Ronal hunt her down again, Kayla got up earlier the next morning and made her way back to the village to join her brother's family for breakfast before her lessons. Kiri was definitely doing better and Tuk was excited that her aunt had decided to see them off before their busy days. After pleasant conversations and the promise to meet before their midday meal, the kids took off to pursue whatever they planned for the day. Kayla stood up with the intention of going to find either the tsahik or the olo'eyktan and so Jake walked her out of the marui as they talked.

"So Neteyam mentioned that you guys talked about what happened between Lo'ak and Ao'nung," Jake started off.

'Oh, boy, here we go,' Kayla thought as she tilted her head to glance back at him, feigning partial innocence, "Yes? What about it?"

"Nothing, I just wanted to let you know that it's already been handled, and it sounds like the boys are actually getting along now. Neteyam also mentioned that you didn't get to meet Ao'nung yesterday so I wanted to make sure you knew this before you went looking for a fight with the kid."

"Jake, how young do you think I am?" When his face twisted with hesitance, she rolled her eyes, "Don't answer that. What I'm trying to say is that I'm not a child, I'm older than I look, and believe it or not, I do realize this. You don't have to worry about me... but you could've been a little nicer to Lo'ak."

Jake refrained from also rolling his eyes, knowing his sister would say this. He wasn't blind. He was well aware that Kayla would always be quick to defend his youngest son, no matter what he did. Jake was half-convinced that Lo'ak could get away with murder as far as his aunt was concerned, "He knew he wasn't allowed to go beyond the reef but he went anyway. He was at fault as much as Ao'nung."

"I get that, but it feels as though Lo'ak received more punishment than the boys who actually put him in danger, and for what?"

"For picking fights."

"No, for defending his sister," her eyes narrowed, "Not that you would know what that means."

Jake took the verbal lashing in stride, internally sighing, "I can't punish the chief's son for what he does against my kids, Kayla."

At first, Kayla had every intention of cursing her brother out, but instead paused and tried rephrasing her response. Her eyes drifted to the reef while she recalled far-off memories, "I remember Mom and Dad were allowed to punish the neighbor kids if they misbehaved with us and no one would bat an eye."

The mention of his old life irked him, and he wasn't afraid to show that in his deep snarl, "Well, Mom and Dad aren't here and we're not on Earth," her posture visibly stiffens but doesn't interrupt. Jake's wave of anger is immediately replaced with guilt, so he opts in taking a breath before he could say anything else he might come to regret, "Things are different here. So be civil and keep the peace. Don't go picking fights with teenagers."

"I won't," she mutters darkly, the coldness in her eyes returning as she side-eyes him, reminding Jake that he still wasn't out of the storm regarding her, "That's what you're here for."

She doesn't stay long enough to hear whatever rebuttal he might have in mind. Instead, she walks down the pathways leading further into the village before calling back, "I'll see you later."

Tail lowered in distress and possibly shame, Jake could only turn back to the marui and try to go about his day as he normally would. He knew he deserved the petty insults and his sister's aggression toward him, especially after all the radio silence she had endured for months while he was here experiencing a new way of life, on top of everything else. He just wished Kayla could manage to let go of all the pain and anger like he did when he first began to learn the ways of the Omatikaya. Physically, Kayla's avatar hasn't changed apart from the new Na'vi trinkets she had added to her standard-issued cargo shorts and crop top. However, Jake had hoped her mentality toward him would change the more she learned how to be Na'vi.

He knew he was a fool to get his hopes up so soon.

Walking through the village, Kayla went down the same route Ronal had brought her yesterday, hoping she would catch sight of the tsahik. Again, there were some stares from the Metkayina, but they didn't last as long as the day before and the reef people didn't look as bothered by her appearance. The Na'vi go about their day without much acknowledgment to Kayla, and before she knew it, she had made it to her destination, the craft huts she had met Tsireya just the other day.

It wasn't hard to find Ronal among the crowd of mottled skin patterns. Her accessories, tattoos, and rounded stomach are a dead giveaway, and the tsahik easily found Kayla in the crowd in turn, though it wasn't as hard, given the circumstances. Ronal's eyes visibly squint when her gaze lands on Kayla, then the Na'vi woman pulls away from her task to rise and meet the avatar. Another Na'vi stands to join her, a teenage boy and Kayla had an inkling who it was.

When Ronal approached Kayla, she motioned to the boy behind her, "My son, Ao'nung."

Smiling timidly, Kayla greets Ao'nung as respectfully as possible, though even she could admit her smile was tighter than usual. Ao'nung didn't say a word back, instead deciding to simply nod and avoid eye contact. His ears drooped and his head lowered like this was torture for him. Clearly, he was being coerced into being here with Kayla, but she decided not to fault him for it. Perhaps he's already being punished enough for his wrongdoings that he didn't need Kayla to torture him further about it.

Ronal doesn't appear to notice nor care for Ao'nung's discomfort and sternly stated to Kayla, "We will be teaching you how to communicate underwater. Do not fall behind or you will be left behind."

Kayla refrains from the small smile that threatened to escape her. Ronal's words vaguely reminded her of Neytiri's way of teaching Jake both from the stories she heard and the video log Jake had recorded. As Jake had once phrased it, 'Learn fast or die.'

With that in mind, Kayla doesn't complain and silently follows Ronal and Ao'nung away from the craft huts and further down the pathways. It didn't take long before they brought their guest to a large marui. It wasn't as big as the communal pod for the feasts, but it was significantly taller and wider than the normal ones Kayla has seen, including the Sullys' marui. She took note of the different colors of weaving and decorations adorning the home, such as the totem and skimwing skull hanging over the front entrance in greeting, a small windchime of shells softly dancing in the warm breeze. If Kayla had to guess, this was the olo'eyktan and tsahik's pod. Soon after stepping inside, both Ronal and Ao'nung lower to the ground, sitting back on their legs and Kayla does the same, proceeding to listen as Ronal starts off the lesson.

Nothing eventful happened as Kayla learned the Metkayina equivalent of sign language. Ao'nung never said a word regarding Lo'ak or any incident that happened with Kayla's nieces and nephews prior to her arrival. In fact, Ao'nung didn't say a whole lot other than chiming in a time or two to help Kayla with the lesson. Perhaps he never said a word outside of the subject of his people's sign language because his mother had been giving him sharp looks throughout the whole lesson. It was hard to miss. Ronal wasn't exactly a subtle creature. She openly expressed whatever she was feeling, unafraid of hurting someone's feelings, not even her son's, it would seem.

It was amusing to find all the similarities between the mother and son, both physically and spiritually. Their glare, eyes, and even their pout were the same. Kayla even dared herself to look a little closer without getting caught and noticed that Ao'nung inherited the same mole as his mother's, both spots found above their lip, on the top right side.

She must have lost track in time as the suns rose higher in the sky. Before she knew it, her next teacher had shown up to take her to her next destination. Tonowari stepped up into the marui, his large frame blocking the majority of the light coming in through the entryway. His gaze brushes over Kayla and Ao'nung before his eyes land on the tsahik, "Ma Ronal. Is this a good time?"

One of Kayla's ear flick to the side at the term of endearment, glancing over to the woman in question who only firmly nods and stares back at Kayla, "Go on. My mate will continue your riding lessons from yesterday."

Kayla mutters her thanks and stands up to join Tonowari. As they turn toward the exit, the olo'eyktan points back to his son, "Ao'nung. Remain with your mother."

"But, Father--"

"Do not question me, boy," the tone in Tonowari's voice was a little louder and stronger than normal, and even Kayla could feel her spine straightening up, despite not being under his scrutiny. Kayla briefly glances back at Ao'nung and notes the way he shrinks in on himself, still unable to look her in the eye, clearly embarrassed. Kayla looks away and follows Tonowari out of the marui, shadowing his footsteps as he addresses her, "I apologize for my son."

For the moment, Kayla had the empathy to pity the teenager and decided to soften the blow against Ao'nung, "There's nothing to apologize for. He was a pleasant enough teacher."

His voice had reverted back to its normal tone, significantly smoother and kinder on the ears, "Did you learn well?"

"I think so. It's not that different compared to what the Sky People have," when he flashed a questioning glance over his shoulder at her, she further explained, "They have a language that requires hand motions, too."

He doesn't question it further, instead looking back ahead and leading Kayla down to the docks. The ilu anxiously await their arrival in the water below, clicking and calling excitedly as Tonowari pulls a harness over one of their heads. The two adults get into the water and stand beside the earnest ilu, Tonowari trying to calm the creature whilst Kayla makes tsaheylu. She mounts the creature with ease, remembering yesterday's lesson and dreading the idea of falling off again as Tonowari begins reassuring her, "You need to exude confidence. Tell the ilu that you will command them and you will be respected by them. Do not give them space to come up with their own ideas."

She takes a few deep breaths to calm her nerves and nodded, waiting until Tonowari steps away before commanding the ilu to move forward using only the bond connecting them to each other's thoughts. The creature obliges and all appears to be going smoothly. Kayla manages to instruct the ilu to swim faster before eventually sinking underneath the water's surface. The ilu picks up speed and even as she clings on for dear life, Kayla could already feel her grip loosening. Angry and determined, Kayla tightens her thighs around the saddle of the creature and demands her bonded steed to leap out of the water and let her breathe, no room for nonsense.

To her shock and delight, the ilu chirped happily and sprung out of the water like a bullet, briefly flying through the air and allowing Kayla to take a breath before diving back in. She was so shocked that she almost lost her grip before regaining composure and asking the ilu to do it again, in case she had only imagined her success. The ilu was ecstatic to leap out of the water again and did so without a fuss, and this time, Kayla laughed as the shock wore off.

On the surface, the woman is met with a small audience. Lo'ak, Neteyam, and Tsireya were out riding their own respective ilu that afternoon before briefly pausing to watch a school of fish swim all around them, tickling their feet. Just as Kayla appeared to finally be getting the hang of riding an ilu, the teenagers caught notice of her as well. Lo'ak is the first to spot her, cupping his hands over his mouth as he crows in encouragement, "Go, Auntie! Woo-hoo! Yeah! You got it!"

Kayla laughs as Neteyam and Tesireya begin to cheer her on as well, their voices carried by the winds as Kayla and her ilu dive into the water and back out again. By the time Kayla remembered herself and returned to her teacher, Tonowari had his arms crossed but otherwise appeared pleased by her improvement, tail leisurely swaying behind him with curiosity.

~~~~~~~~~

Weeks go by since Kayla first arrived in Awa'atlu, and despite having to adapt to yet another completely different culture, Kayla had to admit that it was getting easier as time went on. She originally thought the ways of the Metkayina were a cakewalk compared to the Omatikaya, but maybe it was because she learned from the Forest People first that made learning from the Reef People easier than she originally thought it would.

She makes sure to reiterate this to Norm and the other humans every time she sees them. When everyone in Awa'atlu is meant to be resting, Kayla retreats to her campsite and secures her avatar form before closing her eyes and breaking the neural link. The next time she opens her eyes, it's within the link gurney back at High Camp. Norm and Max are always there to greet her, asking about her headaches and other health problems. There were days even Kayla had to admit were rough. After spending so much time in her avatar form, it's starting to strain the link connecting herself to her human form and it causes massive headaches every time she breaks a new record of not reporting back for days on end. To distract her friends from lecturing her, Kayla just updates everyone on Kiri's condition and relays any messages Jake or the rest of the Sully family wanted her to bring. In return, the scientists or even the Na'vi, such as Txe'la and Meui, would update her on any information regarding Ardmore or any Sky People activity.

She's always left disappointed when they say the same thing. No one has seen Spider.

Trying not to let the news discourage her, Kayla always wakes back up in her avatar form in better spirits so as not to worry Jake and his family. Kayla continues to treat the days as normal, continuing her lessons and helping out in any way she can so as not to overstay her welcome. When she wasn't following Tonowari or Ronal around, Kayla was usually in the company of her nieces, nephews, and their new friends.

Tsireya was one of those friends, and she was such a sweet girl who would happily entertain Kayla in any endeavor. When she wasn't busy, one of Kayla's favorite pastimes was helping Tuk and Tsireya find seashells for their hair and any jewelry idea they had in mind. Tsireya, as Tuk said, knew all the best spots where the shells were always fully intact and not crushed into pieces by the harsh tides. During these little adventures, Kayla, Tuk, and Tsireya would learn more about each other, bonding over the fact that they were all their families' younger sisters.

The sign language was easier than the verbal language, but Kayla felt as though she had a rug pulled from beneath her feet when Ronal knowingly stated that she was going to be teaching her student a third language. The tsahik, with the help of other Metkayina, began to teach Kayla the language of the tulkun, the sea creature Kayla learned to be the spiritual animal and companion to the Reef People, as the ikran is to Forest People. Apparently, not even Kayla's nieces and nephews have progressed as far as learning the tulkun language yet, and they became ecstatic to realize that they would be learning this alongside their aunt. Joining Ronal in these lessons with Kayla and the Sully kids would also be Tsireya and Rotxo, which only excited the forest kids more. Ronal wasn't as pleased with her own student when she caught Kayla fondly watching the children interact more than once.

Kayla had to learn this extra language on top of her breathing lessons, the latter of which was taught by both Tonowari and Ronal. Sometimes they would teach her separately, and other times they would do so together, but whatever the case may be, it didn't matter to Kayla. She would carefully listen to whoever was teaching her, and sometimes she listened so intently that she caught herself observing her teachers a little too closely.

Like Tonowari's eyes for example. Kayla noted they were a light blue at first as she sat cross-legged across from him while they practiced breathing exercises. But upon closer inspection, Kayla noticed specks of green engulfed by those blue orbs, like clumps of islands surrounded by warm sparkling oceans.

He was a clenched fist with a gentle touch. Kayla greatly admired him for being someone who could easily take advantage of his strength and position above his people but chooses to be kind and soft-spoken instead.

It was fascinating for Kayla to see just how different the Metkayinas' eyes were compared to the Omatikayas'. Whereas every Na'vi of the Forest had orange or yellow cat-like eyes, the ones who live off of the reef had rounder and bigger eyes, not to mention they had a variety of different shapes, sizes, and colors.

Like Ronal's eyes. The opposite of her mate's, Kayla noted that Ronal's eyes were more green than blue, with specks of a warm, gold color, like a sunset reflecting off the ocean surface.

She was orphic, but that's as far as Kayla allowed herself to describe the tsahik.

There was plenty to say about Ronal, but Kayla thought it best not to linger on any of the words bouncing around in her head. It was clear to her that the tsahik will always disapprove of Kayla and her presence among the Metkayina, so Kayla didn't want to compliment the Na'vi woman too much, especially since she doesn't intend on staying for very long.

Her stay was still very much temporary, at least in Kayla's eyes, as she still intends on going back to the forest to find Spider. For now, however, she was content with her small campsite just inside the treeline of the Metkayina island, a campsite that Ronal appears to disapprove of along with everything else about Kayla. The tsahik still has to occasionally venture out and find Kayla among the trees if she is in need of the avatar woman, like today when Ronal had the mind to take the time to find Kayla. It wasn't hard since the demon had kept her promise and never moved her campsite so she would be right where Ronal could find her. Still, Kayla was apologetic when Ronal found her and the tsahik begrudgingly told the foreigner to follow her back to the village.

Ronal brings her to the shoreline and recruits her to help fix an ilu pen that had begun to wither with age. Tonowari was already hard at work on it and briefly looked up to greet the two women when they sat down on the edge of the pathway and gracefully slipped into the water with him. After a brief instruction from him, Kayla gets to work in silence, and Ronal isn't opposed to doing the same. The silence wasn't as awkward as they were in the past, but out of the corner of her eye, Kayla could clearly see that something was bothering the tsahik, as Ronal wasn't ashamed of openly frowning while watching Kayla work. She didn't appear to be glaring in disapproval, but she looked... frustrated. It was as if she was trying to figure out a complicated puzzle. Kayla briefly glanced at the Na'vi positioned on the other side of her and noticed that Tonowari was much more subtle than his mate. Unlike Ronal, he only snuck glances at Kayla and her work here and there and did his best to hide whatever expression was on his face.

"Am I doing it wrong?"

"No. You're doing well," a compliment was not what she was expecting and it shows as Kayla's ears perk up and her eyes briefly widen. Ronal pointedly ignores the reaction and blatantly asks, "Why do you not stay with your brother's family at night?"

Kayla looked at Ronal, nose scrunched slightly in confusion, all the while completely unaware of the stare Tonowari sent to his mate from above Kayla's head, "Why would I?"

"Group sleep is also customary in the Metkayina."

"What's a group sleep?"

By Eywa, did the Omatikaya teach this alien woman anything? Ronal huffs out an irritated sigh, "Families sleep in large groups, usually in their swaynivi. Some clan members will sleep alone or with their mate just as long as they return to their family's nivi in a short period of time. Otherwise, they're deemed spiritually unhealthy. It is unsafe for one to sleep alone."

"I see," Kayla's ears pin back and her posture straightens, understanding the question now while pointedly staring down at her work on weaving the ilu pen together instead of addressing Ronal, "Well, where I'm from, that's called an invasion of privacy. I would assume that the families who sleep in large groups mostly contain parents and their children, correct?"

She doesn't wait for a response as she further explains with a small distaste in her mouth, "Since I'm neither of those, I don't want to invade my brother's and his children's privacy. Thank you for your concern, but I've been alone for a very long time. I can assure you that I am just fine with the sleeping arrangements I have now."

Even Ronal can sense a dismissal when she hears it in Kayla's voice. It was clear that the alien woman didn't want to further discuss this topic and so the tsahik didn't push it. Returning to her work, Ronal now briefly shared a glance with Tonowari but he pointedly kept his mouth closed during the whole conversation and after.

Luckily, the silence is saved by Neteyam as the teenager arrives with a purpose, slightly bouncing over the pathways above the adults' heads, "Auntie. My father is looking for you."

Kayla's discomfort visibly melts before Tonowari and Ronal's eyes. She looks up and smiles at the Na'vi boy, "Tell your father he can come and get me himself next time instead of sending you out. You should be elsewhere, enjoying the reefs and hunting with your friends."

She briefly turned back to the clan leaders, silently asking for approval to leave with her eyes flicking between the two Metkayina. Both nodded and openly watch as Kayla turns back to Neteyam, smiling up at her nephew as she rises up onto the pathway and follows him out, gently shoving him once to get him to pick up the pace so she didn't trip on his heels.

Neteyam huffed a small laugh as they walked, but the sound falls in replace of shame. He was visibly acting a little shy as he avoided eye contact, "I am sorry that I told my father about our conversation. I should have asked for your permission."

"Hey, no harm," she nudged him, "It's not like our talks are meant to be a secret or anything. It's nice that you can trust your father with everything; trust him enough to talk about whatever you want. As long as you're comfortable, kiddo."

"Was your father not like that?"

Kayla bit her tongue to refrain from visibly wincing, staring directly ahead instead of at her nephew, "No. I don't think he was. Not from what I can remember. Mostly I relied on Tommy and your dad growing up."

"What was my father like as an older brother? Am I like him?"

Kayla briefly grew quiet as they walked, pondering about how she could best word this to her oldest nephew. She tried seeing Jake in Neteyam, she really did, but whenever she tried comparing the teenager's best traits, they only remind her of Neytiri. And when Kayla thinks about Jake, all the pain and other torture he had put her through both intentionally and by accident, she couldn't even fathom Neteyam doing the same thing to his own siblings. Physically and mentally, deep down she knew that Neteyam was nothing like his father, and she was secretly grateful for that.

So instead of agreeing, Kayla simply smiled while staring the teenager in the eyes so he could see her sincerity, "No, 'Teyam. You're like Tommy. He was the older brother. When it comes to how you treat your siblings, you remind me of him, and I think your father sees it, too."

~~~~~~~~~

When Ronal isn't busy with her duties as tsahik or teaching Kayla, she is making sure Neytiri also adapts to their way of life. Although the former tsakarem had been comfortably accustomed to island life by the time her sister-in-law joined her family, Ronal still takes Neytiri into the jungle for a second pair of hands to gather the needed plants and herbs for her stock. Today was no different as the two women stumbled across a large jungle tree, larger than any of the others around them. Instead of following Ronal's suggestion to skip this tree and its healing fruits in exchange for a shorter one, Neytiri stops and shakes her head. Ronal was adamant about moving on since she was in no condition to climb and wasn't built to climb trees even if she wasn't currently pregnant.

Neytiri still shook her head in defiance and simply said, "You need Forest People."

The Forest woman opens her mouth and calls out at the top of her lungs, causing Ronal's ears to twitch in response to her whooping and cawing. Notifying her family about her location, it didn't take long for Jake, Kayla, and all the Sully children to come running to Neytiri's call.

Neytiri proudly smiles at her family while explaining why they had been summoned, "Our tsahik needs the fruit from the top of this tree and the ones surrounding it."

The others take a moment to look at one another before Kayla breaks the silence, briefly tapping Tuk's shoulder before running off, "'Last one to the top is a rotten egg!"

Tuk squeals and immediately chases after her aunt. The older Sully kids smile and break into fits of laughter, following suit and running after Kayla and their little sister. They all leap up, grabbing onto the lower branches before lifting themselves up, climbing expertly higher without their arms protesting the weight of their bodies. Ronal watched them climb higher and higher, keeping her expression stoic while observing the way Kayla makes the collecting and scavenging into a game for her nieces and nephews, challenging them to see who can gather the most fruit. In the corner of her eye, Ronal could still see Neytiri standing beside her, also watching the trees and smiling fondly up at her family. Jake soon stands beside his wife, hands on his hips while watching his sister and his children with a careful eye.

It was then did Ronal address Toruk Makto directly, flashing a face of disapproval, "Does your sister always act so childish?"

Jake's posture stiffens and he struggles to find the right words under the tsahik's watchful eye, "Well-! Uh..."

"No, only with the children," Neytiri answers for him, eyes hardened when they meet Ronal's as if daring her to speak again, "She plays with them because she wants to remind them that they are still just that. Children."

~~~~~~~~~

Kiri woke up bothered about something and everyone could tell. That girl didn't know how to hide her feelings no matter how badly she wanted to, the definition of an open book. Even though no one knew why she was upset, they could clearly tell that whatever it was, it had something to do with her aunt. Kiri wasn't necessarily cold to Kayla, but the teenager would go quiet and only speak in one-word responses whenever the older woman spoke directly to her.

Kayla decided that she needed to fix whatever was going on between herself and her oldest niece, so she offered to take the children out as the afternoon slipped into the evening. Neytiri suggested bringing them swimming through the reefs to collect barnacles and other underwater plants for tonight's supper, a passing time a lot of the villagers tend to do. Kayla takes up the idea and presents it to the Sully kids, who all agree to go, some more enthusiastic than others.

Tuk immediately splashes into the water and her brothers chase after her. Meanwhile, Kayla and Kiri linger on the beach, watching them disappear into the ocean. Kayla had tried breaking the tension with a small smile, "So when are you gonna show me how to use those underwater fairy wings?"

She was hoping for a small laugh or even a smile, but Kiri does neither. Instead, she looks sad and distracted, looking out over the horizon where the sky meets the sea, daydreaming of other lands... of home. Kayla bravely touches the girl's shoulder, and when Kiri looks up, her aunt could see the concern plain on her face. The avatar woman squeezes Kiri's shoulder, "What is it?"

Kiri bites the inside of her cheek before giving in, letting out a small sigh, "When are you going back to the forest?" She quickly understands how that could easily be misinterpreted and corrects herself, "It's just that-- you promised you'd look for Spider. And yet, you're here and he still hasn't been found yet."

Kayla relaxes both in posture and touch, removing her hand from Kiri's shoulder and instead letting it fall to her side, "I'll likely be gone by the end of the week, but for Norm's peace of mind, I'm going to be running a few tests on you so he and I both know you'll be okay," silence follows and Kayla reaches out once more, letting her hand gently grasp Kiri's arm, "Kiri, look at me."

The teen does so, a little belligerent at first. Upon staring up at her aunt, Kiri could see the determination in her eyes that closely matched Kiri's father's. Kayla tilts her head down to try and stand more at Kiri's height before softly explaining, "I haven't given up. And you might find it pointless to keep an eye on you after what happened, but I don't, and I don't think Spider would either. Think about it, kiddo. Spider would want us to make sure you're alright before we ever went looking for him."

Kiri ducks her head and watches her toe make shapes in the sand beneath her feet, "I know... but that doesn't mean I have to like it. He deserves to be put first for once."

Silence lingers between the two of them before Kayla simply says, "You're right."

Kiri doesn't wanna look up to see whatever expression was on her aunt's face. Instead, Kiri takes her arm and drags her to the water, "Come."

"'Where we going?"

"You said you wanted to learn how to use a txampaysye."

Kayla's nose scrunched up, testing the word on her tongue with bitterness, "How do you even spell that??"

Kiri manages to loosen up and laugh before they both held their breath and sank down into the water, sinking until they joined the rest of the Sully children. They introduce Kayla to txampaysye -gill mantle- and instruct her on how to use it in order to breathe underwater. Kayla wasn't far off. The gill mantles really did look like fairy wings, but other than maybe a few comments or stories, none of the Na'vi children would know what exactly a fairy was. The children and their aunt spend the evening doing as Neytiri suggested, gathering underwater plants and barnacles alongside other Metkayina, most of whom all wore the txampaysye. By the time the communal dinner rolled around, the Sully family was exhausted, but content all the same.

~~~~~~~~~

A peaceful morning where the Sullys invite Kayla over for breakfast goes uneventful until they're rolling up their nivi after a good night's rest. Their peace is interrupted by a horn, followed by whoops and hollers of celebration coming from outside. Confused and on edge, Jake and the kids emerge from the marui, looking around as the Metkayina jump around and dive into the water, making the newcomers curious as to what was going on.

Their answer came in the form of Tsireya, astride an ilu as she waved down her people from the water below their homes, "The tulkun have returned! Everybody! Our Brothers and Sisters have returned!"

Kayla looked up toward the atoll wall protecting the village from less docile nature. Emerging from the tunnels and pathways underneath the wall were rolling waves indicating something large below the water. Spurts of seaspray spring out like geysers from beneath the ocean's surface. It was a large pod of whale-like creatures, massive and slow. Their descent onto the village was graceful and one that brought much joy to the Metkayina as they couldn't get in the water fast enough.

The Sully kids couldn't wait either, jumping from the walkway around their home and into the water below. They scatter, exploring the new creatures one way or another. Tsireya had grabbed Lo'ak when she spotted him and pulled him onto her ilu, swimming away to introduce him to her Spirit Sister. Jake summoned his tsurak and both he and Neytiri take off to observe the sacred animals themselves. Rotxo had come around and pulled Kiri and Tuk away too, leaving Neteyam and Kayla to wander. Ao'nung was not far behind his friend, however, and invited Neteyam to come along with him to find his own Spirit Brother. Earning a small reassurance from his aunt, Neteyam doesn't hesitate to jump in and both teenagers each grab an ilu and take off, making a game of chase with Ao'nung in the lead.

Neteyam kept close to Ao'nung the entire time. The chief's son leads Neteyam through the chaos expertly, the two of them swimming quickly around a particular tulkun. Kiri, Tuk, and Rotxo were hanging onto the bull's fin and gliding peacefully through the water, the tulkun likely the reef boy's Spirit Brother. Neteyam was only able to catch a glimpse of this as they swim by, keeping close to Ao'nung's tail and playfully chasing him.

Jake had been leisurely swimming his skimwing through the maze of tulkun and Metkayina before glancing off to the side and perking up. Reaching back and tapping Neytiri's thigh to grab her attention, he waits until her eyes are on him before pointing out the sight he stumbled across. Following her husband's gaze and finger, Neytiri spots a mother tulkun and her calf, the smaller whale-like creature keeping close, mostly under its mother's fin or belly. Neytiri smiled with delight, her heart melting at the picture.

Kayla had been floating above the surface, watching the vast sight of tulkun from up top the back of an ilu she had successfully summoned. She didn't venture very far until the olo'eyktan sought her out. She noticed his tsurak first, flying above her head before gracefully sinking into the water, folding in its webbed fins. Tonowari brings it back around and swims up to Kayla's side, a determined smile on his lips, "We must put all that you learned to the test. Come meet my Spirit Brother and see how well you can understand and communicate with him."

She nods and dutifully follows him into the water after taking a deep breath. They submerge and take off, weaving through and around the large bodies of tulkun, dodging other ilu and Na'vi while Tonowari keeps his pace slow for Kayla's ilu to catch up. Underwater, Kayla can get a better look at the tulkun, and to her amazement, she realized that most of them were tattooed like their respective Na'vi. Eventually, they come across a large bull and Tonowari slows to a complete stop, disengaging from his tsurak and openly swimming the rest of the way to the heavily tattooed tulkun male. Kayla disengages from her ilu and watches it swim away before swimming in the same direction as the olo'eyktan, keeping a small bit of distance while he approaches the tulkun, greeting it like an old friend with a wide smile before gesturing Kayla to come closer.

When Kayla swims close enough to float near the large eye of the creature, Tonowari motions to the bull and makes rapid hand movements, "This Makayla te Suli tsmuke te Toruk Makto. She is of the Forest People and has come to learn our ways."

"Greetings, Makayla te Suli." The tulkun sings, and Kayla is delighted that she can understand him.

She quickly signs back, just as she had practiced, "I See you, great and mighty tulkun."

"Have you learned much since your arrival?"

"Yes, many things. I have excellent teachers in the olo'eyktan and the tsahik."

"Indeed. You are in good hands with my Brother and his mate. Ro'a speaks highly of her."

Curious, Kayla turns to the olo'eyktan in question, hands slowed by the water as she asks through the Metkayina sign language, "Is Ro'a Ronal's Spirit Sister?"

Tonowari nods while further explaining with his hands, "Yes, and I believe Ro'a has just given birth to her first calf."

"Indeed." The tulkun calls softly, the beautiful sound muffled in Kayla's ears like a song trying to pierce through cotton, "We are very proud and happy for our sister. What of Ronal's child?"

Tonowari beams, "Growing fast. Halfway there."

Kayla faintly smiles as her lungs begin to faintly burn, then quickly makes the appropriate hand motions to signal, "Forgive me. I need air."

She tilts her head upward and kicks her arms and legs to plunge up to the surface. Kayla immediately gasps for air the moment her head broke through the ocean waves, taking deep and calm breaths while looking around at all the joyous reunions going on around her. Laughter and cheers are still clinging to the approaching afternoon air, not a single Metkayina worried about the day's chores as they are too busy reacquainting themselves with their Spirit Brothers and Sisters. Kayla fondly watched these interactions, her heart warm and yet... sad as she watched the Na'vi swim around her without a care in the world. It's not as though she expected anyone to notice her, but it was a brief realization that today she was invisible and an outcast compared to these beautiful tulkun creatures. It was just another reminder that she didn't belong here and she had no Spirit Sister of her own, feeling out of place among an entire lagoon full of tulkun, Na'vi, tsurak, ilu, and other aquatic creatures.

Once she caught her breath, Kayla inhaled deeply and stuck her face back into the water to check out the activity going on beneath her treading feet. Looking around, she managed to catch a glimpse of a familiar Na'vi, a woman, adamantly communicating with her hands toward another tulkun, a female and her calf. Kayla recognized Ronal's ornaments that expressed her importance among the other Metkayina, along with her rounded belly. Without those traits, however, Kayla wouldn't have recognized her because the tsahik was smiling, broadly, unbothered by anything going on around her as she spoke to what had to be her Spirit Sister, Ro'a.

In all the weeks Kayla had been living here, she had never seen Ronal smile, let alone smile like that.

A/N: Please remember that I can't reply to any comments below every chapter because I'm using a secondary account. So if you have questions about the series you would like answers to, please put it in the ask box, thank you!

If you have a request, check the rules first! Much love!

Buy me ko-fi <3

Just a brief notice that updates are gonna be spotty from here on out as summer is coming to a close and I'll be working two jobs next month (Sept). Keep the love and support coming and I hope to update for y'all soon!

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thatwasntverycashmoneyofme · 1 year

Text

𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾

❥𝗌𝗇𝗂𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗍 : 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗌 (𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍)

{ 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 — 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖼𝗈𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝗉𝗐𝗉, 𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗇, 𝖺𝖺𝗏𝖾, 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗃𝗈𝖻, 𝖽𝗈𝗀𝗀𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝗒𝗅𝖾, 𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗂𝗑 𝗁𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀. }

"Alright y'all this is a practice match no need to waste energy recklessly. Atsumu if you keep arguing you'll be warming the bench." You sigh walking over to Karasuno's managers.

You introduced yourself. "Hey I'm (y/n), the manager." The brunette smiled slightly. "Hello I'm Kiyoko and this is Yachi." The smaller girl waved, you returned the gesture. "Having to handle a team of rowdy teenage boys is tough; that's why I got myself an assistant."

You sigh dramatically. "Yeah but I couldn't do that to someone else." You both laugh as she takes in your appearance. "I like your outfit." You thank her, it wasn't nothing much just a white tank and some gray biker shorts.

You expected to be moving around a lot, critiquing the boys and helping them get the balls; and no offense to the pretty girl but it was too hot to be wearing a damn tracksuit. You excused yourself heading almost across the court to get some water from the sports cooler.

"I'm Daichi, the captain." A voice interrupts your sip holding a hand out. You shook his hand, the firmness of his grip had you thinking of other things as you stared at it. "I'm (y/n), the manager of Inarizaki." You look up catching him smile.

"Ah I don't recall seeing you at the tournament; I think I'd remember a pretty face like yours." His smile so smooth and voice so deep you almost forgot you were 'working.' You giggled playing with the end of your twist.

"Oh nah, I couldn't come I had some business to attend." He looks you up and down. "Aw that's a shame I would've loved to see you watching me win." You nudge his peck slyly trying to get a feel of his muscle, which he caught on.

"You don't even know me." He smirks. "You could've been my good luck charm; I would've pinpointed you out." You laugh, face heating up as you tsked. "Stop playin." He looked at you pulling out his phone asking for your insta which you obliged.

"Ayoo manager practice is over!" Kita yells out from somewhere in the gym. Daichi waves you off with a "I'll text you later." You grin waving back.

"Soo manager what were you talking about with Karasuno's captain?" Atsumu poked. You sigh looking over him. "Nunya business." "They were flirting, laughing. She probably gave him her number." Another person giggled.

"Suna how many girls are you cheating on? How many baby mamas? Ohh thought so with yo toxic ass, mind ya business stay on that phone." He hissed raising his hands in surrender. "Yo Aran you better get yo girl, she acting out."

The bus laughs as you both tsk; You telling the boys to shut up and Aran looking out the window, face indifferent.

—

"So you tryna make me look dumb now?" You were questioned as you set your shoes by the door and your bag on the couch. "Excuse me?" You continue down the hall until you're grabbed by the hand. "You excused."

You snatch your hand from the boys hold. "Aran...boy don't play." He sneered at you. "Little girl don't play with me right now. The fuck you doing flirting with our rival team, making me look mad dumb earlier."

Scoffing, you continue to your bedroom. "Boy…first of all don't little girl me, second i wasn't flirting, and third ain't nobody making you look dumb." He followed right behind you. "How the fuck does it look when my girl is fucking touching another nigga chest?"

"As far as I'm concerned im single... You made it very clear this was a situationship, so I can do whatever I want." You shrug. His brows knit up as he jerks you back, pressing you up against a wall, hand pinned to your throat.

"(Y/n), bruh, you gon learn to stop fuckin with me." You push at him, he didn't budge so you suck your teeth. "Don't bruh me, I ain't your brother or one of your little friends."

"You stay trying me. Bet." He let you go before pulling his shirt over his head. "Undress. Get in the bed." You did what he said not wanting him to throw a fit.

You couldn't lie to yourself you was getting hot, and you loved making Aran mad but his ass was gonna have to learn to be direct with you or you'd bust it open for whomever you wanted...and Daichi was kinda fine.

He sat at the head of your bed only in his briefs as he stared at you, stroking his dick from the outside. You bit your lip, he was trying to bait you but it wasn't gonna work today, you were too stubborn.

"Whatchu at my crib for anyways? Ain't you got stuff to do? Girls to play with?" You study him, arms crossed making your boobs press together, he licked his lips slowly eyeing you. You almost creamed.

He sucked his teeth. "Man (y/n) why you gotta play so much?" He pulled you forward onto his lap as you retaliate, pressing your finger to the side of his temple. "I don't be playin with you Aran, in fact you be testing me." He smirk, hands resting on your hips.

"So that's why you tryna make me jealous?" "I ain—" you’re interrupted by your phone notifications going off and Aran is quick to grab it before you, reading the message aloud.

"You got niggas texting you now?...'So wassup do you want a relationship or a fwb cuz I'm down for whatever'...?" He paused staring at your phone then at you before putting it back on the nightstand.

"So wassup with you? You ain't tell this man we together?" You shrug. "Cuz we not." His eyebrows are furrowed as his hand is once again on your neck. "Yo lips so pretty but all you do is talk shit. Suck my dick, do something useful."

You pull his briefs down lowkey marveling in it. His dick was a pretty two tone brown his tip the lighter shade as it stood at 8 inches, fat and heavy. Your thumb ran across his tip spreading the pre so his dick looked like it had a nice glaze.

You kitten lick the tip hearing him hiss. "Cmon now suck this dick like you mean it." He watch your tongue curl around his tip before going down getting his whole dick wet as you fondled his balls.

Y'all maintained eye contact when you lifted off of him, rubbing his tip against your puffy lips before spitting. It ran down his length, you rubbed it in twisting your fist around him. His eyes rolled back, letting out loud groan, you plunge down taking him all in.

"S-shit that's what 'm talkin bout." He looked at you observing how your lips puckered around his dick, biting his lip. You moaned the sound rumbling through Aran's core. He pulled you off of him kissing you deeply, his tongue dominating yours.

You pull away, getting air, a string of saliva connecting you both. He drags you onto his lap, hand going to your soaked pussy as he placed hickeys on your neck and shoulders. "Why you do this to me girl? You like how I fuck you when I'm mad?"

Letting out a heavy sigh you bit your lip, his fingers rubbing in between your folds, circling your clit. "Yea but you gon have to start claiming me or I'll find someone who will." He stared you in the eyes nodding his head a soft "Bet." leaving his plump lips.

It happened so fast, you arched your stomach on the bed, Aran behind you. You could feel his print in between your cheeks as he plays with the globes of your ass. He moved his dick rubbing it against your pussy teasing you.

His tip repeatedly bumped your clit, you were beyond horny but you couldn't give in so quickly, especially when his tip caught your hole almost going in. "Fuck Aran if you don't fuck me right now imma call over Daichi. I ain—"

The air is knocked out of your lungs, his dick sat inside of you uncomfortably, his tip pressing your cervix. Your back is arched deeper from the pain. He bent over your form, hand snaking your throat, biting your shoulder before he growled out.

"Yo (y/n) fuck allat shit. Must think it's fun to play with me or something, speaking another nigga name while my dick in you." You finally caught your breathe one of your hands reached back to push him away a little as you cried out.

"Fuck you hittin my cervix Daddy~ 'm sorry, 'm sorry." He chuckled sarcastically, gyrating his hips making you inhale sharply. "Ohh you sorry now? Gon stop fuckin around?" You mutter yes's and sorry's. He pulled out a bit, you could breathe now, he kissed your cheek then your mouth sloppily.

He slowly circled his hips, the wet slapping sounds made you heat up, you moaned as the pain that once stifled your lower stomach turned into pleasure. He kissed the few tears that fell down your soft face. "That's what I thought."

Your pride rolled its eyes internally as you whine. "It's not fair you can talk to other people but I can't." You hear him suck his teeth, feeling a particularly sharp thrust. "I ain't entertaining nobody."

You didn't say anything but it's like he could hear your inner thoughts. He sat up hands gripping your waist ramming into you making you lurch forwards gripping your sheets as you moan.

"This all yo dick baby, you don't gotta trip." He felt you tighten around him. "You like hearing me say that baby? This yo dick. All of it." You continue to moan, you tried not to release so quickly, feeling that familiar pressure building up.

"M yours too Daddy~ 'm sorry f-for talking to him." Your eyes roll, so close to the edge, Aran could feel the sporadic clenching of your pussy making him grin, slowing a little to precisely hit your sweet spot.

"Yea baby I know. And when I tell you don't talk to another nigga unless I let you—" You trembled, your orgasm was gonna hit you hard, you both knew that as Aran continued hitting your spot with precision. "I! Mean! That! Shit!"

"A-aran~ fuck fuck fuck!" You buckled, pussy squeezing Aran's dick tightly, your body flopped forward, trembling, ass in the air still. Aran pulled out jerking his dick off, three pumps later You hear him groan, feeling warm splotches fall on your ass. "Ahhh~ fuucck!"

Your eyes felt heavy, hearing movement in the back before soon feeling a cool sensation, Aran was wiping you down from your slick in between your thighs to his cum on your backside. When the rag left your body you fully laid in the bed, Aran coming to lay behind you, throwing the cover over y’all in the now cold room.

He pressed his head into your shoulder. "We been together together. I just didn't know you wanted labels 'n shit." You sigh. "Aran you are a fine ass black athlete bitches are gonna throw themselves at you regardless.”

You continue. “It may be my insecurity talkin but I would feel comfortable knowing that some would back off if they knew we was official; to know I’m the only person you messin’ with."

"Bet." He pulled out his phone snapping a picture.

Liked by 219 others

datboyaran: she's mine im hers and we'll beat someone tf up. @you

—

He turned to face you kissing you softly. "We official now. So drop that fuck nigga from earlier." You smile wrapping your arms around his waist.

"I wasn't gon text him back anyways."

𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗆 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌, 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌. 𝖣𝖮𝖭𝖳 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅, 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗒 𝗈𝗋 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾. ©𝖼𝗂𝗍𝗒𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖺𝗅

#city.writes #black reader #black writers #black yn #x black reader #black fem reader #x black fem reader #aran ojiro smut #aka one of the finest mf in haikyuu #haikyu smut #aran x black!reader

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theconstantsidekick · 9 months

Text

Captain America: Civil War ft. Static (7) | s.r

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader, Tony Stark x Stark!Reader (siblings), Bucky Barnes x Stark!Reader (future)

Genre: Angsty city babyy!

Summary: The Avengers have a reunion... in Germany... at the airport... with a few new members.

(These scenes incorporate y/n, codename—Static, into the pre-existing story as a character without making drastic changes to the plot or mythos. All the major plot points from the MCU remain in place with the addition of the reader as Static, who is not only a Stark but also enhanced. Whatever events from the canon aren’t mentioned, take place without much change.)

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Past Trauma, Canon Typical Violence

a/n: this was so hard to write wtf?

As soon as she and Steve have the grounded chopper in sight, An electro-disabler slams onto the chopper, frying the systems and rendering it useless. Steve and Y/n look up.

She watches with burning annoyance as Tony and Rhodey descend.

“Wow!” Tony fakes surprise looking at Rhodey, “It's so weird how you run into people at the airport. Don't you think that's weird?”

“Definitely weird,” Rhodey answers.

“Hear me out, Tony,” Steve pleads. It almost seems genuine. “That doctor, the psychiatrist, he's behind all of this.”

T'Challa leaps over a truck, “Captain.”

“Your Highness,” Steve replies.

“Anyway” Tony begins, as he walks around, “Ross gave me 36 hours to bring you in. That was 24 hours ago. Can you help a brother out?”

“You're after the wrong guy.”

“Your judgment is askew.” She’s seldom seen her brother this fucking furious, but then again, maybe it’s cause it’s Steve. “Your old war buddy killed innocent people yesterday.”

“And there are five more super soldiers just like him,” Steve argues. “I can't let the doctor find them first, Tony. I can't.”

And then,

“Steve—you know what's about to happen,” Natasha chimes in joining the growing confrontation. “Do you really wanna punch your way out of this one?”

No one’s addressed her since this entire thing—

“Why are you being so uncharacteristically fucking quiet!?” Tony screams at her.

Taken aback a bit, she straightens up. “What’s left to say?”

“Are you seriously going along with this? You know how this ends, way better than him,” Natasha tries to reason with her.

She shrugs. “I don’t—Frankly, I don’t care about any of this. I just want to go home.” She says it simple and sweet. Because it’s true. She understands that there is a threat looming but she’s sure Steve can handle it. If you asked her two weeks ago, she would have been enthusiastic about the whole thing, a mission to take down the last vestiges of HYDRA, of her nightmare—what’s not to love?

But that was then and this is now, and now she has to fight her way through her friends to fight with some villain and that just—call her selfish but that just seems unnecessarily tedious. She just wants this all to be over. Part of her wishes things could just go back to that party at the Tower before Ultron attacked. Everything was… It was all so easy then. She misses it.

“Then let’s go home!” Tony urges.

And all she can do is let out a laugh in disbelief. “I said I wanna go home… Not a fucking prison cell.”

Tony clenches his jaw. “ All right, I've run out of patience.” He cups his hands around his mouth and yells out, “Underoos!”

And suddenly, there is liquid spilling out onto tying up her and Steve’s hands. A person in tight fitted red and blue suit flips over and snatches the shield. He lands on top of a truck, joining the ensemble.

FUCK TONY! She thinks. What did you do?

“Nice job, kid,” Tony compliments with a smile.

“Thanks. Well, I could've stuck the landing a little better. It's just the new suit—Wait! It's nothing, Mr. Stark. It's--it's perfect. Thank you.”

“Yeah, we don't really need to start a conversation,” Tony comments.

“Okay. Cap… Captain,” Spider-Man nods. “Big fan, I'm Spider-Man.” If he weren’t wearing a mask, Y/n is sure he’d be smiling.

“Yeah, we'll talk about it later. Just—” He waves his hands dismissively. “—Good job.”

“Hey, everyone,” Spider-Man greets.

“You've been busy.” Steve notes, there is a blatant hint of disapproval in his words.

“And you’ve been a complete idiot!” Tony counters, pissed. “Dragging in Clint. ‘Rescuing’ Wanda from a place she doesn’t even want to leave—a safe space.”

“How are you any fucking different, Stark?!” Y/n bites back. She’s pissed too. If she hasn’t made it clear yet, she would like for it to be put on record that she is outraged, beyond outraged that she has to fight the tiny little family she has been able to piece together over something as heinous as her fear of being imprisoned again. She hates every second of it but this?

This is a new level of stupid on Tony’s part.

“What the fuck were you thinking? Why would you bring him here?” She asks, pointing at Spider-Man. She’s well aware of who he is. It is her job to know. Which means she knows, that he’s just a fucking kid!

Y/n is about to blow a fucking gasket.

Tony just runs a hand over his face, looking exhausted. “I did what I had to do. You’re not giving me a lot of options here.”

“Fuck off, Tony!” She throws back because that is nowhere near a valid excuse to bring the kid into this.

“I'm trying to keep—” He sighs. “I'm trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart,” Tony urges.

“You did that when you signed,” Steve answers.

That might be the only thing that she and Steve agree on.

“Alright, We're done,” Tony announces. “You're gonna turn Barnes over, you're gonna come with us. NOW! Because it's us! Or a squad of J-SOC guys—with no compunction about being impolite.” He pauses for a second, and then a final plea, “Come on.”.

Sam’s voice rings out over the comms, “We found it. Their Quinjet’s in hanger five, north runway.”

Instantly both she and Steve hold their hands up and Clint shoots the web off.

Tony’s helmet goes up as he turns to look at the source of the arrow.

“Alright, Lang,” Steve signals Lang to get to it.

And Lang does not disappoint.

“Hey, guys, something—” Spider-Man is cut off by Lang sizing back up from Cap’s shield and retrieving it.

“Whoa. What--what the hell was that?” Rhodey asks aloud, confused as fuck.

Lang hands the shield back to Steve, “I believe this is yours, Captain America.”

“Oh, great. Alright, there's two on the parking deck. One of them's Maximoff, I'm gonna grab her.” Tony announces all their locations. “Rhodey, you want to take Cap?” He asks before flying off.

“Got two in the terminal, Wilson and Barnes,” Rhodey calls out, as he begins to take flight.

Steve launches his shield, aiming for the chest of Rhodey’s suit, temporarily incapacitating him.

“Barnes is mine!” T’Challa runs off and Steve swiftly follows behind.

Spider-Man swings away upon receiving whatever order he receives from Tony.

“I’m gonna—” Lang points over to Rhodey, to which Y/n just nods in response.

“Guess that just leaves you and me,” Natasha notes.

Y/n smiles a little, “In any other circumstance I would’ve enjoyed that more.”

Natasha smiles too, before she lunges at her.

Y/n easily dodges every attack that Natasha throws at her. Nat’s trained. She’s amazing, agile and utterly formidable… But Y/n is better. Looking at her, it’s easy to forget that while she’s damn near ancient at this point. But she is. She has done this a lot longer than any other member of her team.

“You’re not fighting me,” Natasha notes.

Dodging another punch, “I don’t want to,” Y/n answers.

“How do you plan on fixing this?” She asks.

Taking a step back, with furrowed brows, “Why am I supposed to solve it?”

“Well, it was supposed to be us—you and I, together. But then you decided to leave with Steve.” Natasha counters. Her attacks are getting more intrusive, it’s taking a lot more work to dodge them.

“I left cause of Sergant Barnes, Steve cannot handle him alone and you know it,” Y/n reasoned.

“And you can?”

“I’m not alone, am I?” Y/n’s getting a little annoyed.

“That doesn’t feel like a betrayal at all,” Natasha bites back, kicking her hard in the side.

“Fuck!” Y/n curses. Clicking her tongue, she swallows a groan while holding her side. “Yeah, like you didn’t fucking betray me signing that goddamn document.”

“These boys are demarcating the playground, claiming a side of their own.” Natasha lands another blow on her chest, making her stumble back sputtering. “They can’t clean up after themselves. They are too headstrong, too naive to see sense. We have to fix this!”

Y/n has had enough. When Natasha carges at her again, she stops her. Blocking with one hand, she knees Nat in the side. “It’s not my fucking responsibility!” Pushing her back, she counters Nat’s attacks easily. “I never wanted to be a part of this shit show. I didn’t want it then, I don’t want it now. This is not my fucking mess!” Y/n throws a punch. ”I just want to go home.”

Natasha blocks her. And then… then she fucking smiles.

It’s not a cunning one. It’s not mocking either. It’s something like sympathy.

“You’re fighting me,” Natasha notes. And belatedly, Y/n realises, that yeah… yeah she is. “You’re always going to be a better fighter than me, Y/n. But this,” she taps at Y/n’s chest, right above her heart, “you let this loose way too easily. You make it too damn easy for me to do this.” Natasha manouvers herself around Y/n and pins her to the floor, trapped between fucking her legs. Fuck me, Y/n thinks. With a crippling elbow punch to the gut, Natasha gets up on her feet, leaving Y/n coughing on the floor.

“Just say what you want to say,” Y/n asks from where she’s lying flat on her ass.

“You cannot keep claiming Switzerland. You don’t want to pick a side? Don’t. Be on your own side, but don’t keep pretending to be uninvolved. Look around you, Y/n… you already are involved.”

With that, Natasha is off too, leaving Y/n to gather up her leftover dignity.

The fight, or well should she call it the fights—cause there are multiple—the fights continue. Vision enters the arena and draws a literal line in the sand.

“Captain Rogers,” he says, levitating above them, “I know you believe what you're doing is right. But for the collective good you must surrender now.”

As politely as it’s worded, it still remains a warning. Warning Steve to stop, but come on. Has that ever fucking worked with Steve ‘Bullheaded’ Rogers?

Both teams charge at each other and Y/n just hates all of it. It feels absurd to fight against the people she has fought shoulder to shoulder, but in the moment, it feels like she just doesn’t have a choice… Does she?

She loses track of everyone she faces off, but rest assured it’s everyone but the Spider-Man. She tries her best to avoid using her powers, bringing up her armour only as defence. The powers—her attacks are meant to harm. These aren’t the people she would ever wish harm upon.

Eventually she stumbles upon Spider-Man, barely holding up what once must have been a gangway. Manifesting the armour onto her arms and then curling her hand around the hilt of her sword as it’s forming into existence from her dimension, she glitches in just above him and free falls to the ground, cutting the whole thing down.

She lands on her knee.

“Miss Stark!” Spider-Man yells out in excitement, dropping the halved gangway with ease. “It is so great to meet you! I am a huge fan, especially of your—”

She cuts him off, her sword disassembling out of existence, “Who did that?” she asks, pointing at the completely unrecognizable gangway.

“Captain America,” he answers easily. “Aren’t you on his team?”

“I don’t know which fucking team I’m on!” Y/n answers, throwing her arms up in utter frustration.

The kid for his part remains calm, giving her a moment to compose herself again.

Sighing, she looks up at him, “Do you make it a habit of willing following men dressed like stop signs to Germany, or is this one off thing?”

“Mr. Stark said he needed help… How could I say no?”

There so much fucking ernestness in his words it burns Y/n from within.

“Go home, kid,” she tells him. “Tony—he…” She shakes her head. “All this is way too bigger than you…”

“I can handle it,” he replies, sounding almost desperate.

“I don’t doubt it,” She answers, because she doesn’t. “But you’re better at being the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man.” With that she begins to walk away.

The kid, however, has other ideas. He shoots a web at her and instantly her sword manifests once again, cutting it down before it can stick to her. “Don’t be dumb, kid,” she scolds gently, glitching a few meters away. “Go home!” She yells out and glitches out of his sight.

As it goes on, at some point, a realization strikes them all.

“We gotta go,” Barnes’ voice rings out over the comms. She’s not sure she’ll ever get used to having that voice in her ear speaking anything but crude monosyllabic words in German. “That guy's probably in Siberia by now.”

“We gotta draw out the flyers. I'll take Tony. You get to the jet,” Steve replies. “Y/n, think you can take on Vision?”

“You bet you star-spangled ass—” She’s cut off before she can verbally assault Steve for questioning her at all.

“No, you get to the jet! All three of you!” Sam reasons, sounding a little strained. When she spots him in the air, Rhodey hot on his trail. “The rest of us aren't getting out of here.”

She wants to cut in, but before she gets the chance to, T’Challa throat punches her, pissing her off. Her focus shifts to handling the King of Wakanda.”

“As much as I hate to admit it, if we're gonna win this one, some of us might have to lose it,” Clint chimes in.

“This isn't the real fight, Steve,” Sam urges softly.

“Alright, Sam,” Steve acquieces. “What's the play?”

“We need a diversion, something big,” Sam says.

“I got something kind of big, but I can't hold it very long,” Scott answers instantly over the comms. “On my signal, run like hell. And if I tear myself in half—don't come back for me.”

“He's gonna tear himself in half?” Barnes questions, sounding just as confused as she feels.

“You're sure about this, Scott?” Steve asks him.

“I do it all the time. I mean once…in a lab,” Scott answers.

“And then what happened?” Y/n asks, finally being able to find her voice, having pinned T’Challa on the ground with her thighs roped around his neck.

“Then I passed out,” Scott answers.

“Awesome,” Y/n remarks before, T’Challa lands a blow on her side, making her losen her grip. Both are quickly on their feet again.

“You’ve gotten better, your majesty,” She tells him. T’Challa has always been a great fighter—trained by the Dora Malaje, of course she expects no less. “It feels like it was yesterday when I saw your father teaching you how to wield a staff.”

He charges at her with so much anger. “How dare you talk about my father when you choose to protect his murder!”

“T’Challa—” She tries but he’s not in a listening mood. He’s in an attacking mood; he keeps coming at her relentlessly. She dodges every strike.

“After all the kindness he showed you, you protect Barnes!? You are a traitor!”

“He didn’t kill your father, T’Challa! You have to know that,” Y/n tries to reason but clearly it has no affect. In the end she realizes she is not left with much of a choice.

Before she can react on her realization, however, Scott fucking Lang decides to grow to the size of fucking building.

“Mother of whore-loving motherfucker,” Y/n is damn near astounded.

“I guess that’s the signal,” Sam’s voice comes in from the comms.

As soon as the shock fades, T’Challa charges at her again and she does the same. Running at him, she uses the momentum kneeing him in the chest. He stumbles back a little, she takes that moment to kick him in the back of calve, disbalancing him to make him fall and as he falls, she strikes him in the chest.

With that, she glitches away.

“Y/n, you coming?” Steve asks over the comms.

“I don’t know,” she answers honestly, spotting Vision who’s eyes are set on Steve and Bucky who are running towards the quinjet.

She’s glitching in and out. Popping out of her dimension to attack Vision and then popping back in to stop herself from falling. It’s a fucking taxing thing, fighting an super-enhanced android with weird magic powers in the air, especially when you can’t fly.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Sam asks her on the radio.

“It means I’m fucking thinking about it!” She bites back.

“What’s there to think about?” Clink asks.

“I don’t know!” She glitches into her dimension. “Fuck” She says to herself, then glitches out. “Something about my responsibility in all this—I don’t fucking know!”

And then Vision decides to shoot a beam at her with the mindstone. Her armour deflects but the force throws her to the ground.

The fall hurts, it aches. It makes her ache in places she hasn’t ached since HYDRA had her. It’s all very fucking meloncholy if you ask her. So, you cannot blame her when she lies on her ass for a couple seconds, trying to recuperate.

Meanwhile, Vision uses his beam to cut the control tower in half. It begins to collapse over the entrance to the hanger the quinjet is in. Wanda tries to hold off the debris from crumbling to the ground, keeping the way clear for Steve and Barnes who are fast approaching on foot. However, Rhodey intervenes, blasting her with a sonic boom, making her loose control.

All of that is for naught, though, because Steve and Bucky do make it in.

“Need a hand?” A gold-titanium allow hand, painted bright red is extended to her.

She takes the hand, letting it help her stand on her feet. “Thanks,” she tells him. “Shouldn’t you be spending this time stopping them?” She asks, pointing at the scene unfolding behind them.

“I’m trying to stop you,” Tony says evenly. And then, before she can even tell him she’s not sure if he needs to, if what she really wants to do is stick around and fix it—she doesn’t know how exactly but she wants to try, if any of this is necessary, she hears a sound. It’s a sound that has become almost ambient to her, a sound that used to bring her comfort, a sound that used to mean there was someone watching her back—the sound of Tony’s repulsors being activated.

She feels the hit before he even aims for it.

“Don’t make me stop you, Stark,” Tony says sofly, his eyes are welling up but so are hers. She has categorically avoided him the entire time, knowing full well that faced with him, she’d just surrender and find a way to escape at a later point. But this… This fucking hurts.

It burns her. It burns her from within.

The man doesn’t even have to take the shot to make her bleed.

But his arms come up to aim the repulsors at her anyway.

“Really?” She asks him.

“I don’t want to do this,” he begs.

It doesn’t matter though, it doesn’t fucking matter because he is doing it. He’s aiming at her. Her baby brother is aiming his weapons at her, hesitantly but he’s aiming nonetheless. It fucking breaks her her.

Her hands clench into fists. A tear escapes her eyes. And a single word slips out of her lips “Traitor.”

She glitches away.

When she glitches out, she’s facing Natasha.

As their eyes meet, Natasha fires a widow bite from her wrist. Y/n waits for the hit but it never comes, turning back she met with T’Challa, who’s being incapacitated by the low voltage shocks from the widow bite.

“Oh,” Y/n notes, turning back at Natasha.

Her brows forrow at that reaction. “What?” When all Y/n does is point at T’Challa behind him, Nat continues, “What are you waiting for? Go!”

“I—I’m not going…” she answers, dumbly. “I came here to stop you from stopping—” her eyes fly to Barnes and Steve who are already inside the jet. “—them…”

“Not going?” Natasha asks, with a smile.

Clenching her jaw, Y/n replies, “Not yet.”

Natasha just nods at her.

As the two super soldiers take off, T’Challa frees himself and tries to grab onto the jet but fails inevitably, landing easily on the ground.

He comes to face Natasha and even with the mask on Y/n can practically see how pissed off he is.

“I said I'd help you find him, not catch him. There's a difference,” Natasha tells him with a somewhat false sense of confidence, knowing very well herself that she’s lying.

This is awkward, is all Y/n can think as she stands between the two of them.

As the three of them make their way out, she watches as Lang is going down in all his (Gi)Ant-Man might, Spider-Man’s webbing tied around his legs. Tony and Rhodey punch him out of the sky and Y/n can see the last vestiges of her ‘side’ crumbling.

In front of her, a few meters ahead, Vision has Wanda in her grasp, holding onto her and protecting her gently.

While the jet flies off, Rhodey and Tony both take off after it, Sam is hot on their trails. Either of the two iron-men must call out an order because then Vision looks up at them in the sky. He uses the mind stone again, shooting off a beam. She’s sure it’s meant for Sam, but he folds away his wings, dropping altitude so the beam misses him entire, hitting Rhodey instead.

For the next minute or so, everything happens in slow-motion.

Rhodey begins to fall. He begins falling from the sky.

Her confusion over his inaction only lasts a second but the moment its clear that the beam hit Rhodey’s core, shutting the suit down, Y/n runs into action.

She begins glitching in and out, trying to get higher and closer to Rhodey, coming out only to calculate how much farther he is from her reach.

Glitch, need to be higher.

Glitch, need to be closer.

Glitch, need to be further.

Glitch, need to be faster.

She can reach him. She’s sure.

But…

But the ground is creeping in and Rhodey’s been falling for way too long.

She needs to slow his speed or he’ll—

No time to think.

No time for anything but action.

The next time she glitches out, she grabs Rhodey.

“Y/n!” He yells out, afraid and lost.

“I got you,” she tells him. “I got you, Rhodey.”

She glitches him into her dimension, trying to decrease his speed.

“FUCK!”

It’s not easy.

Fuck it’s damn near impossible for her.

She’s not good enough.

Especially not good enough at controlling her dimension when he’s been freefalling from the sky, in an impeccably heavy suit of weapons, and machine and metal. He’d been falling too long, with too much weight.

She holds onto him, making her dimension denser, not enough but still, denser.

Manouvering herself under him, she extends her armour from her arms to span across her back. If she can’t slow him to a halt, she can cushion his fall.

When they glitch out of the dimension, the change in force hits them hard, slowing them down a little bit more. But the wind does not cooperate. The wind is a fucking bitch. Y/n cannot completely sustain the suits weight on her, but she tries her best.

As they brace themselves for what will undoubtedly be a rough fucking landing, the last thing she sees is Tony flying towards them.

They crash.

The impact creates a fucking pit in the ground.

Before she can try helpless to move Rhodey off of her to check on him, Tony lands next to them and does it.

He pulls off Rhodey’s face plate, and asks F.R.I.D.A.Y. to check his vitals.

“Heartbeat detected. Emergency medical is on its way,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. replies.

His eyes fly over to Y/n then. Hand on her chest in an instant, He says, “ F.R.I.D.A.Y. assess damage.”

“I’m fine,” Y/n tries, pushing him off of her but the blood she coughs out makes it seem like an act.

“Six broken ribs and heavy internal bleeding, sir. But her hearbeat holding steady. Miss Stark will be fine till the emergency medical arrives.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. tells him.

Y/n doesn’t care, she tries to get up but struggles somewhat hopelessly. Tony’s hands come to help her and she manages to get onto her knees to look at Rhodey.

He’s bleeding, she notes, from his nose.

Her jaw clenches, eyes watering up.

Somewhere behind them, Sam lands on his feet and apologizes. Tony blasts him with his repulsors but Y/n can’t bring herself to give a damn.

Both siblings wait there—lost and scared, each with a hand on the chest of their best friend, and prayers on their lips to a God they stopped believing in, waiting for help to arrive.

Find the next part here. Find the series masterlist here. Find other Static Verse works here.

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caseylicious · 10 months

Note

Hey! I have no clue if youre taking requests or not but. i love your writing and I was wondering If we could get a ROTTMNT Donnie x Reader who has hanahaki? It can be as angsty or as fluffy as you want it to be! i love your writing!! and I cant wait to read more!🐢✨

The One.

Summary: How does Donnie react to the reader with hanahaki?

Character: Donnie.

Reader: GENDER NEUTRAL

Relationship: CRUSH

Warnings: Mentions of puke/vomit, Development of depression(?), Negative comments towards oneself, Death.

A/N: I am so sorry for the long wait dearest. Hanahaki.. a disease that I find so beautiful yet so tragic. My favorites of everything. Though if we were to think realistically? I'm sure half of our generation's population would perish to such a thing. Also, I'd like for you as the reader to choose your own flower which you sadly cough out. Since I'm unsure to what flowers represents unrequited love and heartbreak. So sorry if it isn't long enough </3 sorry if the plot is kinda wacky, especially with the ending,, sorry if it seems lazy </3 Now wondering if people still read this stuff. Now with that out of the way, please as always do enjoy.

As always! Please, Enjoy 💐

[ If you have any constructive criticism or corrections for any of my English do let me know! :) ]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - 💐

Hanahaki Disease is a fictional disease where someone begins coughing up flower petals because they have unrequited feelings for someone. The flowers can grow in the stomach, lungs, or heart, though it is traditionally in the lungs. Hanahaki Disease is a painful, slow disease that often develops over months, if not years, and begins with coughing up a few petals, and grows in intensity and pain until the victim is coughing up entire flowers, at which point the disease has reached its final stages. If not treated, the disease is fatal.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - 💐

You've had a crush on Donnie for long time. It honestly.. was quite shocking when you found yourself falling for a turtle out of all things, but hey. We don't judge here. April introduced you to the brothers and wow. It's not everyday you can tell someone "I'm going to go hang out with four giant turtles! Later!" It was a strange thought, Donatello? What about him was so interesting for you to feel like this? but you chose to embrace this warmth.

Recently, Donnie has been working on something big. Or at least, that's what he claims his amazing project to be. Nobody had any idea what it possibly could've been due to either disinterest or for how secrecy about this operation. Only you knew about it, which made you feel special.

"Y/N, I need your opinion on my excellence." Donnie spoke aloud for you to hear, snapping you out of your trance. You were on top of one of the spare chairs in his little laboratory. Which in your opinion was the most calmest out of places. The other brothers were just.. too much. No offense to them, just.. sometimes it was too much for you to handle. You could let yourself relax in this purple tinted room. You glanced from your hands then to the purple-coded mutant. "H.. huh? What?" Quickly taking notice of your lack of focus, he smirks. As a iron claw from his shell reaches out to pull your spinny-chair closer to him. "I just need your opinion on something. Nothing too big, could you do that?" You nodded, giving him a little smirk. "Is this about your spectacular project Don?" He rolled his eyes, "Of course it is Y/N. This has to be my biggest project yet." "Even bigger than Shelldon?" You nudged his shoulder gently as he was rummaging for what he wanted to show you. "Well.. obviously not, but it's up there." He then turned toward your direction as he pulled out two metallic boxes. One in a dark magenta and one in his brand of purple. One of them was more shinier, due to the hue. However the other seemed more aesthetically pleasing. With carved pictures of lavender on the cover. What did Donnie want to ask? "Which box looks better? The Magenta one or.. the purple one?"

You tilted your head a little, "This is your big project?" "I can kick you out of my lab y'know." You chuckled, mumbling a short apology before looking between the two.. thinking just for a second or two before pointing at the purple one. "That one. That's definitely the one." Donnie snickered quietly, rolled his eyes placing the boxes away. "Alright then, the purple one. Why that one necessarily? Why is that one.. The One?" He watched as you stretched and adjusted to put one leg on top of the other. He opened his mouth about to say something, assumedly to catch your attention, before you interrupted him. "Well.. purple is your color. It's special. It represents royalty, nobility, luxury, and power! Almost everything you are..." .. "But.. well y'know, because I like flowers.." For a moment there was silence, before he smiled out of satisfaction. His smile in a way made your chest feel warm... "Well, I'm flattered you feel that way. And yes, of course I'm luxurious in my craft. My creations powerful and mighty as I design them to be..." He leaned a little closer to you unknowingly. You felt your cheeks feel warm as you quickly looked between him and the floor. "Can I at least know what's this whole project is about?" He shrugged, "Wish I could, but I have to wait for the right time to take action..." You watched as he trailed off. Your hand slowly grabbed ahold of a simple wooden pencil, tapping the metal table one. "Don? What's up?"

His eyes trailed up, to make eye contact with you. ".. If I were to give this to somebody, what color do you think they'd like?" You blinked quietly, looking up at him "Well.. it really depends on the person..." He chuckled for a moment, glancing away from you. Bringing up a hand to scratch the back of his neck. "Well that's why I a-" He was quickly interrupted with Leo running throughout his room, "Don- Say- what do I do if I somehow broke.. shelldon?" ... "Again-?" Donnie quickly got up frantically, "How did you manage to break him again?!" "More or so malfunction- Not my fault-!!" "Leo!!" And off he went, running out of his lab to go fix his creation with Leo. You were left by yourself, as you quickly shoved your head into your hands. Why did you word your reason like that..?! God, that was so embarrassing. You bit the inside of your cheek suffering for a couple of minutes. Before the thought appeared in your head, ... What was he going to say?

That was only a couple months ago, you decided to ignore it. But it just kept bothering you... alongside the burning flame inside of you for one person, Donnie. What started as a small thought then slowly developed into something bigger throughout your mind; almost like wildfire. Your feelings somehow just came at once when you were around him. When you felt his fingers rub against yours when he reached for his toolbox, when he spoke to you, when he gave you the littlest of attention, his smile. The thought of Donnie alone danced through your mind, a duet just for the both of you.. oh how sweet that was...

That was until you've noticed how he acted around April. At first you ignored it, April and Donnie were strictly friends. If not at least platonic... right? You weren't insecure of yourself that much. You felt that you and Donnie were at a good point in your friendship to consider the both of you as close. But watching them laugh together made you upset. This was normal, there was no need for you to feel like this... but April was closer to him more than you were with Donnie, you don't really know how they met. They could've known each other since they were kids, they could've been secretly together without you knowing- now that was just foolish.

At first when you saw April around Donnie, you felt a small nab at your gut. At first it was simple jealousy. The jealousy you feel when your crush shows more interest in another person. You though that, surely this feeling would pass. It wasn't important, this was something you could most definitely overcome.. but as each week passed, you felt something building up in your gut. Until you saw Donnie showing off that special little box infront of April.. Wasn't that your special secret? Why is he showing her? No- Stop it. They're just friends. That didn't mean anything- your train of thought came to an abrupt stop when you suddenly felt the urge to puke.

You pushed yourself into your bathroom, quickly slamming the door shut. You frantically made your way to the sink, which was alone a whole struggle. Your vision was hazy, you were warm, everything just hurt. The stabbing that once was tolerable became a distraction, which soon became a jab into your throat. You couldn't breathe. Were you choking? You didn't know, you just desperately held onto the sides of the sink and coughed out whatever you could... You already felt like you were fighting for your life. What the hell was stuck in your throat? And finally, something came out. You gasped for a breath of fresh air. You could breathe.. it was only when you looked down you saw something truly horrific. "..O.. oh my god..."

Petals. You stared in horror to the petal and blood mixed vomit in the sink. How? How was this possible? There was no way that actually existed... You went to your local pharmacist to get a diagnosis just to be sure and you were right. You were diagnosed with the Hanahaki disease. They said that you were already so deep in this sickness. The only way to get rid of this disgraceful disease was to have a surgery performed on you, but that would mean to risk losing all your feelings for Donnie. You couldn't possibly do that, you'd rather sit in your own suffering than to forget how you felt for Donnie. So that's what you did. You tried to keep your distance, but April just kept bringing you to the lair. You could've said no, you could've avoided this whole mess together. Yet something inside of you kept telling you to go. Maybe it was the thought of Donnie or to avoid suspicion, you didn't really have a clue what it was. Nonetheless you kept going down, and seeing Donnie. You tried to look okay, but you struggled. Donnie was sure to notice, especially with the fact the pain that was in your lungs soon changed how you acted around them.

You always were somehow able to excuse yourself when it got bad though. It was a simple system of running to the Hamato bathroom when nobody was noticing. You felt ashamed of doing this without nobody knowing.. but what would Donnie think? You had nightmares of him becoming scared of you. You didn't want him to force himself to feel anything just for you to become better. You didn't want to act out on them any of them, but how could you not? You were in pain... Sooner or later this disease would win the fight and destroy you. You feared death, but.. Donnie... You just wanted was best for him. Even if he didn't ask for it, your insecurity clouded your line of thought. It clouded any consideration that maybe April, Donnie, anybody was worried for your mental being. How you felt. But that didn't matter. Soon your sickness took over your ability to move your arms, your legs, it hurt to even get up.

Your dear friend April stood outside your bedroom door. She had a spare key to your house, you just trusted her that much. Before this whole mess you two were inseparable in school... she was a kind girl, determined, perhaps had more in common with Donnie... No wonder he gave her his attention. "Y/N! Ready to go see the guys?" You quickly turned your head to the door, .. right. You were going to go see them. "C- coming..! Just have to put on my.. uhh.. shirt." "Well hurry up, don't want to keep them waiting!" Grabbing the graphic tee, you gulped. There were thorns blistering through your forearm, flowers dangerously close to blooming. You couldn't wear a shirt. You swiftly grabbed a sweatshirt, forcing it on. It stung to even rest properly in it as tears swelled in your eyes as you let out a sniffle. "Y/N? Are you cryng-?" It hurt to do anything... You lip quivered. This was pathetic; embarrassing. You couldn't do anything! April knocked on the side of your door, why was she even here? Was she mocking you? "Y/N, are you oka-" "Why are you even here?! Just leave! Get out-!" You quickly fell to your knees, covering your mouth one hand. As the other held tight to your stomach. You stayed like that for about a minute or so before you heard the door close. Once you've confirmed it was actually closed and locked, you immediately dropped to your knees and coughed out blood. Flower petals dropping from your mouth, mixed with blood. A burning agonizing sting filling your throat as you cried. She was gone. You pushed her away.. over what? Some stupid crush you have on a turtle?

A couple weeks passed as you chose to isolate yourself from the outside world. You just laid in bed, feeling vines grow inside of you. As the vines creeped through your bones. It was agonizing... was this how you were going to die? Laying in bed? Perhaps this was more preferred. Nobody needed to see what you have become. You felt like a monstrosity.. vines and leaves growing through your skin. Mixed-in with blood.. And besides, you were in the comfort of something familiar, your bedroom. God... how pathetic you were. At least Donnie wouldn't have to see you like this.. right?

... April knocked on the side of Donnie's lab door, watching Donnie turn to her. "Yo Don, could I talk to you?" He nodded, turning away from her to focus on his project. Letting her sit in the spare chair as she quickly spoke. "Do you know what's up with Y/N? They've been acting off lately." Donnie came to a pause, slowly glancing towards April. "No, I don't know what's wrong with them. Do you know?" April shook her head with a frown. "Last time I saw them, they seemed upset. I tried to leave them alone for a week.. but I don't know. I'm just worried." as they both sighed. Donnie crossed his arms letting the little claws from his battle shell continue on with his project for him. "I.. see. Have you tried calling them? They usually answer right?" April nodded, pulling out her phone to look at. Scrolling through her contacts before pressing on one with your name. "I've called them recently, they didn't answer. They always answer.." Donnie hummed, soon getting off his chair. "Well.. I have no clue what could possibly be keeping them away from the phone. I could try going out myself to see them. Though I can't guarantee they'll answer me." "Wait, before you go? Take this." She quickly walked over to Donnie, dropping a key into his hands. "It's their keys.. uhm, how do you plan on getting them to talk?" and Donnie sighs, pulling out the same box shown months ago. "I think now would be a good time to show them this." April quickly noticed what it was before nodding firmly, before she watched his battle shell become a jetpack. Flying him out of the sewers and towards your apartment.

You laid in your bed, feeling the moonlight hit your skin. You felt yourself fade away so very slowly. To see Donnie would be a curse.. or would it be a blessing? You didn't really have a clue how you'd feel anymore. It hurts to think about him. You sort of accepted your fate to end like this. Wherever you stepped, there was a loud crunch. Whenever you spoke, there was a tight squeeze around your neck. The petals always became more horrific, covered in blood and bone. You were fine dying like this though. Feeling yourself break down into nothing but flora. You could feel your last breathe coming, god this hurt-

"Y/N! Are you home!"

You heard a loud banging against your window. Your eyes widened in horror begging to any existing force that it wasn't who you thought it was.

"It's Donnie, my brothers and April were worried about you." ... "I was worried about you, can you please come out and talk?"

As you opened your mouth trying to get a word out, you suddenly felt your body burn. This may have been the worst pain you've ever felt throughout your whole illness. You couldn't even say anything, no matter how hard you tried. As your heart ached, the vines and thorns only became tighter. Stabbing into your muscle and popping veins. You choked on your blood and the thorns stabbing into your throat. Donnie panicked when he heard you whimper as he quickly attempted to break through your window. You shut your eyes tightly, wishing for this pain to go away. The last thing you hearing was the window shatter and fall to the floor. Donnie fell to the floor, quickly getting up. Only to be horrified to what he saw. It was your body, flowers bloomed out of your skin. He watched as another flower bloom out of your mouth. "Y/N..? Oh my god-"

He rushed to your side, looking at your pale skin.. He knew immediately what this was. This was Hanahaki, the deadly love disease those who were unfortunate enough suffered from. The realization itself was horrifying, alongside with your dead body. It was unsettling how a few seconds ago, he heard you choke on your blood and whimper, just to only then see your peaceful body. In your bedroom out of all places, you looked like you were asleep. He almost mistaken this to only be a bad dream, but he knew it wasn't. He felt a tear roll down his cheek as his breath stuttered. Donnie gently took out the box he had in his shell. Slowly looking down at it, the purple box had flowers engraved on the sides. A painful match to the flowers wrapped around your body, he slowly opened it as a butterfly flew out. Specifically in your favorite color, watching it glow and fly around before landing on the flower coming out of your mouth. As he fell to his knees, holding onto your frail delicate hand tightly. As he sobbed your name, mourning you. For never being to tell you how he felt. For how he loved you, and how you were The One so dear to his heart.

#morilicious #rottmnt x reader #tmnt x reader #rottmnt #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt donnie x reader #rottmnt x y/n

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thomasisaslut · 4 months

Text

Spring Traditions

1/2 — Calanmai

3.2k WC — Tamcien + Minor Azris

—

On Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52364410

On Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1406475814-𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐑-𝐎𝐧𝐞-𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬-𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠-𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬-𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧-𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐚

—

With the rebuilding of the Spring Court, Tamlin has decided to start celebrating Calanmai once again, restoring the lost magic of his Court, but, he knew what would happen with the magic in his system...

"Tamlin!" A voice greets, the High Lord of the Spring Court looks over to see his friend and helper of his home, Eris Vanserra.

"Eris," Tamlin smiles at his friend before looking to see the male beside the other High Lord. "Azriel." He hums.

The spymaster only nods, his wing coming around Eris in a protective manner, shadows swarming around the Autumn Fae's wrists.

"It's good to see you." The blond male adds. "And, thank you so much for the help, Eris." He grabs his friends hands when Azriel steps closer, a warning look on his face.

Eris sends his lover a warning glance of his own before taking Tamlin's hands into his own. "It's the least I could do, Tam." He smiles back. "Have Lucien, Jurian, and Vassa arrived yet? Do you need anymore help setting anything up?"

"A little help would be nice..." Tamlin admits, a light tint of pink brushing his cheeks from embarrassment "And no, they're not here yet." He confirms.

The first High Lord of the Autumn Court nods, "What do you need help with?" Eris hums.

"Some decorations, could you light the bonfires?" The blond asks.

"Of course." Eris smiles and intertwines his fingers with Azriel's before pulling the Shadowsinger to one of the large stacks of wood.

Once they have arrived by the logs, Eris places his hands on it and watches it set, Azriel pulls back from the crackling.

"Are you sure you'll be alright here, Az?" Eris' features shift into a worried expression. "There will be a lot of fire."

The spymaster steps closer, cupping one of his mates cheeks. "I'll be fine."

The first Autumn Fae's face deadpans. "Are you certain?"

"I am second High Lord of the Autumn Court with you, princess, I can handle a little fire." Azriel teases before pecking his mates temple.

"High Lord?" A voice speaks, both heads turn to see the Band of Exiles, Jurian continues. "Two in the same Court?"

"The Night can have a High Lady, I want another High Lord." Eris retorts, a small smirk on his face now.

"And what do your people think about this?" The resurrected man raises his eyebrow.

"I don't care what they think of it, they will answer to their other High Lord." The Autumn Fae then looks to Azriel, he remains silent. "Plus, he's stronger than them."

"Eris." Azriel says.

"Hm?" He hums, looking over his shoulder, Azriel motions him away. "Fine, brute." Eris groans, looking at his brother. "Have fun." He smirks, teasingly before disappearing into the shadows with the spymaster.

Lucien watches them vanish before looking back to Vassa and Jurian. "Where is Tamlin?"

"Somewhere." Vassa shrugs. "Well you find him," She smirks. "We are going to find food, you know how much better faerie stuff is." The cursed woman grabs Jurian's hand before scurrying away with him, reaching the food table.

The Day Court's Heir groans before looking around, the Spring Court was rebuilding well, new blooming flowers scattered everywhere. He looks over to the manor, Lucien wonders if the inside has been repaired yet, though, he doubts it.

Out of the corner of his eye, a blond color is seen, Lucien turns to meet Tamlin's gaze.

"Tamlin." Lucien says, he could've swore he saw the High Lord frown.

"Lucien..." He replies, saying the name slowly as if he isn't use to it.

"Thank you for inviting us." The half Autumn Fae states.

"Of course." Tamlin replied before stepping closer, he looks down at Lucien, their height different slight but still noticeable. "How have you been?"

Lucien looks up. "Fine, how did you rebuild all of this... I was here weeks ago and it was..."

"Trashy, rotting, dead?" Tamlin suggests, Lucien grimaces but nods nonetheless. "Your brother assisted me."

The fox raises his eyebrow. "Eris? How?"

"Well, he does have the ability to burn the dead plants without scorching my Court." Tamlin chuckles dryly.

"I mean," Lucien shakes his head. "Why? Why did he help you?"

Tamlin halts. "He is my friend."

"Eris is your friend?" The Day Court's heir crosses his arms, skeptical. "There was no deal, a bargain?"

"He owed me a favor." Tamlin states. "Enough talk about him."

Lucien nods. "How... how have you been?" He asks slowly.

"Depends, do you want the truth or a lie?" The blond High Lord raises his eyebrow.

"Whichever you're more comfortable with, I suppose." The red-head shrugs.

"Then I am fine."

Lucien frowns, clearly detecting that was the lie. "Are you certain?"

"Enjoy yourself." Tamlin states before walking off into the crowd of Autumn, Spring, and even some Dawn Court faeries.

"Wait." Lucien says firmly, The High Lord of the Spring Court stops in his tracks, he turns back around and looks at Lucien.

"What?"

"Talk to me." Tamlin instantly walks back over to him, now in front of him.

"About what?" He raises his eyebrow.

"Tell me what is wrong." Lucien demands.

Tamlin can't refuse. "I will... afterwards." The blond promises.

"No. Tell me now." Lucien snaps.

"I said after." Tamlin grabs the Day Court's heirs hand. "I promise."

Lucien halts before nodding.

—

The official ceremony soon begins, however this Calanmai only had three of seven High Lord participating, Eris, Thesan, and Tamlin. While Azriel did count, the magic cannot affect him due to his lack of High fae blood.

Thesan was the first to allow the magic in, waves of Dawn magic flood Lucien's sends, the mix of power and arousal.

The High Lord of the Dawn Court looks over to his lover, instantly pouncing on them before winnowing to somewhere else in the Spring Court, making sure the magic remained here to spread.

Lucien looks over to Azriel who was standing beside him. "Good luck." The Day Court's heir smirks, they have had a small friendship since Lucien was working with the Night Court, but, since Azriel moved to the Autumn he hasn't seen him as much, even if the spymaster was his brothers mate.

"I could say the same to you." Azriel retorts, leaving the fox confused, before Lucien had a chance to ask what he meant the second High Lord of the Autumn Court was gone, over to see his mate who seeped of arousal.

Lucien groans and looks to where Tamlin stood, magic swarming around him, sure, he has seen the sight so many times, his nude chest covered in the paint as usual, but something seemed so much more... enticing this Calanmai.

Soon, the last High Leora finished, Tamlin's scent was all the rest of the High Fae needed before moving, finding their own respective person to mate with.

Including one who came over to Lucien.

"Vanserra," The man greets, he had slick black hair, bright yellow-white eyes, the man was clearly of the Dawn Court by his appearance and clothing preference. "Yes?"

"That is correct..." Lucien says for slowly, his eyes not leaving Tamlin as the High Lord scans the crowd, the fox studies the Spring Fae's toned back.

"Care to look my way, sweetheart?" The male hums, but, he didn't have a chance to say another word.

"He does not care." Tamlin grumbles, storming over and placing his hand firmly on Lucien's hip.

Lucien's cheeks flush a deep red. "Tam." He warns.

Tamlin only sends a glare to the man. "Lay off." He practically growls, the Dawn Court fae backs away, Lucien looks up.

"What was that for?" He cocks his head.

"You were clearly uninterested." The blond states.

"And how do you know that?" Lucien retorts.

Tamlin doesn't reply, but, Lucien feels a deep tug, a golden power he has only felt with one other fae, but, he knew this flower was different. The Day Court's heir quickly meets the High Lord's gaze, he speaks slowly.

"Tamlin?"

The High Lord of the Spring Court only looks at him, his eyes filled with a mix of lust and sympathy, he finally speaks. "I am sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

"This... this is just Calanmai magic." Lucien chuckles nervously.

"No." Tamlin cups Lucien's cheek with one hand. "I have know you were my mate the second Eris begged me to take you into my court." The blonde pauses. "I have wanted to tell you every second since then, but, I wasn't able too, every time I tried there was something blocking me."

"That was over two hundred years ago." Lucien tenses, but, doesn't pull away, in fact he sinks into the males touch.

"When you first got here you were still being affected by the Autumn Court, that beast." Tamlin looks furious as he speaks of Beron. "Then, afterwards, I tried to get you happy by doing that fucking masquerade with Amarantha, you know how that turned out." Lucien nods. "After that, when we returned home, Andras happened, then I saw Feyre... a chance to forget." Tamlin frowns. "I never really wanted her, but, I tricked myself... I forced myself to love her." Lucien looks shocked by the revelation.

"And you tricked yourself to love her to forget... me?" Lucien asks.

"To hide the bond. If I loved someone else... maybe it would go away, I thought." Tamlin shrugs before continuing. "After that, she went to break the curse, I couldn't do anything... to help either of you. When I saw you down there..." Tamlin pauses, Lucien feels waves of anger and guilt through the bond they share. "I was paralyzed. Two people I loved were about to die, had it not been for the Night Bat..." Tamlin moves his free hand to Lucien's waist, tugging him into a hug. "I don't want to think about that outcome, I may've not loved Feyre romantically, but, I did love her."

Lucien hugs him back, tightly. "Continue."

Tamlin does. "She soon left our court, I went... rather insane, as you saw." He grimaces. "When she came back and destroyed my Court I was hurt, that's why the High Lord meeting was the way it was... and with Hybern... I wanted revenge." Tamlin frowns. "I didn't want her dead, nor anyone else." Lucien nods, motioning for him to continue. "When I saw her happy with Rhysand, I wished her to be happy, I helped heal him. But... when I saw Elain out of the Cauldron I felt our bond... falter, so, I kept quiet."

Lucien brings his own hands to Tamlin's cheeks, wiping away the tears that have begun to fall.

"Then, Eris told me you wanted to try to... romance her, I gave up all together." Tamlin says. "I... I wanted you to be happy after everything you've gone through, Lu."

The use of his nickname made Lucien's heart flutter, he buries his head into Tamlin's nude chest. "Finish."

"I never planned to tell you, but, I saw the opportunity... with you here... I thought, maybe, just maybe, you would... see me in a better light, at least." Tamlin concludes.

Lucien remains silent before leaning up and gently pressing a kiss to Tamlin's cheek. "What about Elain?"

"Accept it, reject it, it is your choice, Lu." Tamlin sighs. "The same goes with ours."

The heir ponders before tugging Tamlin into a tighter hug. "You."

"Me?" Tamlin looks confused.

"You're confession... I... I'm sorry, I wished you would've told me sooner." Lucien cups Tamlin's cheeks once more before kissing him, the High Lord instantly kisses back.

"Careful, I won't be able to hold myself back, Lu." Tamlin warns.

"Then don't, Tamlin, I love you, I have for a long time... to hear you say all of these things..." Lucien's eye becomes watery. "I saw my own Archeon sister as a chance to forget, I don't want that anymore."

Tamlin's eyes widen, he brings his forehead to rest upon Lucien's own. "Are you certain you want this? Me?" The blond asks carefully.

"More than anything." Lucien smiles softly. "Now..." A smirk forms on his face, his hand trailing down to the High Lord's very thin, baggy, tan pants, teasing his hardened length. "I suppose we should do something about that little issue, hm?"

"Oh, Lu." Tamlin groans. "I assure you, it is not little." Lucien's cheeks burn a deep red.

Within a second, the pair vanishes in a puff of flowers, Tamlin winnowing them to his bedroom, swiftly, the High Lord pushes Lucien onto the bed, spreading his legs before crawling between them, slinging his right leg over his already bare shoulders.

"Are you absolutely certain you want this, Lu?" Tamlin asks again, his cock straining against his pants and rubbing against Lucien's own hardened length.

"Please." The smaller of the two begs. "I've wanted you for so long, Tam, let me have you."

"Of course." The High Lord purrs, using his magic, Tamlin strips off both of their clothes, now both lay nude.

Lucien whimpers from the sudden breeze of coldness, he spreads his left leg wider while his right remains slung over Tamlin's shoulder.

"Do you have lubricant?" The Day Court's heir asks.

"No." Tamlin brings his fingers to Lucien's mouth. "Suck, little fox." The red-head instantly complies, bringing his mates index and middle into his mouth, licking, sucking, and lubricating his fingers with his saliva.

Once his hand is fully wet, the High Lord trails them down to the others rear, slowly sliding in his pointer. A small gasp escapes Lucien's lips.

"You can... use two." He pants out, on of his clutching the sheets whilst his other was holding tightly onto the long, blond locks of his mate.

Tamlin smirks and complies, he slides in his middle finger and begins to move them, curling the digits inside of Lucien before pulling out and slamming back in, repeating his motion in a cycle.

"Oh! There, Tam!" He moans, his grip tightening on his lovers hair. Tamlin complies, not daring to hold back, they've missed enough time together as it is.

"Tell me when you're ready for me, little fox." He hums, inserting a third finger into Lucien's arse, pounding and thrusting them inside of him, massaging his prostate with every movement.

Lucien nods. "Now... fuck! Please." He moans.

Tamlin's smirk grows, he grabs Lucien's left leg and moves it over his other shoulder before withdrawing his fingers, the fox whining at the loss, the High Lord uses his hand to lubricate his cock before aligning the pink tip with his hole.

"Are-"

"Fuck me, Tamlin!" Lucien cuts him off with a plea.

Tamlin chuckles. "Of course, Lu." He slowly slides in, letting his mate stretch around the head of his length before pushing in another inch, the closer he gets to the hilt the more Lucien bends.

By the time the High Lord was fully sheathed, Lucien was a moaning mess beneath him, his legs by his chest in a mating press position.

"Move... you can move." He pants out.

The blond nods. "Hold on tight, little fox." He purrs before begins to thrust his cock in and out, squelching noises fill the room, mixing in with the sweet, erotic moans of both the men.

With every movement Tamlin's cock makes sure to hit Lucien's sweet spot, the High Lord grasps his hips, pulling his lover even further down his cock, his balls slapping against the back of his arse.

"Fuck your hand, Lucien." The red-head instantly complies, his scent of arousal smelling more than any other person in the Calanmai, he radiated the pure essence sex.

Lucien brought his hand to his cock, stroking his shaft, attempting to buck up his hips only to be stopped by Tamlin's own hands. He sends his mate a pleading look, tugging on the bond.

"Beg." He smirks.

Lucien whines. "Let me move, Tam... please, please, I need to cum."

Tamlin hums, his grip loosens, moving to Lucien's thighs, gripping them before pounding himself harder, abusing his lovers prostate.

"Ah... T-Tam!" Lucien quickened his hand, tugging and thrusting, tightening and pinching. "Let... can... cum?" He pants.

"Yes, Lu." He leans down, spreading Lucien's legs wider before pressing a kiss to his lips. "Cum for me, little fox." Tamlin kisses him again.

Lucien moans into his mates mouth before his cock spurts out his release, covering their lower stomach in a thick, white liquid. Tamlin looks down, Lucien's follows his gaze, watching as his lovers cock thrusts in and out of him.

"Lucien!" He shouts before his own release shoots inside of his mates rear, filling his arse with cum. Tamlin pants, falling a top of Lucien.

The red-head carefully wraps his arms around Tamlin, grabbing his jaw to make him look up at him. "Tam?" He hums.

The High Lord looks up at him, his eyes dazed and still lustful. He then places his hands on either side of his mates head. "Yes, my heart?"

Lucien beams at the nickname, his body, literally, illuminating with Day Court light, he wraps his legs around his mates waist. "You're still in me."

"You're still aroused." Tamlin retorts with a smirk.

"I would suggest we do something about that yet, yes?" He smirks back.

The High Lord slides out, watching his cum dribble out of his mates rear, the white-clear liquid leaking down the back of his thighs before he grabs Lucien's hips, flipping him onto his stomach, when Lucien looks forward he sees a mirror.

Tamlin moves his knees onto the bed, moving Lucien's pelvic region up, now in a downward dog position. "Watch as I fuck you, Lu. Look away and I stop."

Then, he begins again, the Spring Fae aligns his cock again, thrusting back into his already stuffed lover, his eyes don't leave Lucien's own as he fucks him, Lucien stares back.

Moans pour out of both of their mouths, but, the red-head still doesn't look away, his pride long gone.

"More." He demands, Tamlin moves his left hand, hooking it under Lucien's waist, freeing his right, before using that free hand to toy with his lovers cock, stroking his hardened length.

"Cum for me again, little fox." He purrs, leaning down so his head is beside Lucien's own. "Do it while looking at me."

The Day Court's heir moans loudly, bucking his hips, fucking his cock into his mates hand before a second load shoots from his length, staining the white sheets beneath him. But, Lucien doesn't stop there, he grinds his rear against his mate, clenching and milking the High Lord's cock.

Tamlin moans into his ear before his own second orgasm releases into Lucien's arse. Slowly, The High Lord of the Spring Court pulls out, falling onto his back before tugging Lucien down beside him, his chest against his mates own, face to face.

"Tam..." He pants out, his leg slings over Tamlin's waist, now snuggling against him. "I... I love you."

Tamlin tugs on the bond. "I love you too, little fox." He kisses Lucien's forehead.

The Day Court's heir's light doesn't go out, the yellow-white glow illuminates the room. "I will accept tomorrow."

"Y-You will?" Tamlin's cheek flush. "I don't want to rush-"

"I've loved you for years, centuries, dumbass." Lucien chuckles, his head in the crook of Tamlin's neck. "Don't make me wait any longer."

Tamlin grins and wraps his arms around Lucien tightly, holding him even closer to his own body, the Calanmai magic fading from his system.

"I won't. I promise."

#tamlin x lucien #tamcien #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #acotar #a court of silver flames #acofas #acomaf #acosf #acowar #eris my beloved #high lord eris #azriel x eris #eris vanserra x reader #azris

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acknowledge-reigns · 6 months

Text

Apologies (Roman Reigns x OC)

Angst/Fluff.

Description: Roman wants to apologize to Jey for the way he treated him in the bloodline but struggles with expressing his feelings of remorse.

Kayfabe compliant, this is story about Roman not Joe.

You can find my other stories here.

And you can read more of Roman and Lilith specifically here.

Exhausted. He was emotionally exhausted. Lilith gave Roman an encouraging smile as she offered him the glass of Bourbon she'd just poured up for him. Roman's gaze barely leaves the the notebook in his lap. He could do many things. He could spear men twice his size, he could lock in a guillotine in a manner that's practically inescapable, he could break record after record - But to apologize? No. That's different.

"Let me hear it again." Lilith prompted supportively.

Roman sighs and begins to read from his notes, "Jey, I really could've handled things differently and I see how I treated you was unfair..." Roman trailed off, "I can't say this, Lil. I did everything I did for HIM. To elevate him. For our family. Our bloodline. Life isn't fair." Roman said.

"Ro, do you want to fix your relationship with your little cousin or not?' Lilith questioned.

"Of course I do, but I need him to see my side of things too." Roman said.

"Do you think you're struggling to verbalize your emotions because you're afraid of being perceived as weak?" Lilith asked.

Roman thought for a moment, unsure what to say. "I guess that's possible." he shifted uncomfortably. Putting his pride aside wasn't easy. Admitting he could have been a better Tribal Chief at times wasn't easy.

He went through years and years of harassment, of borderline abuse from the WWE Universe before he finally snapped and took what he and his family deserved. Last time he was this vulnerable, the people who were supposed to cheer him on kicked him while he was down.

Seth betrayed him. Hit him in the back with a chair and busted up the shield. He lost his brother that day. Not his friend. His brother. Dean left not long after. Another brother gone. Years pass, he grows fond of Sami Zayn and what does he do? the same thing Seth did. Not just that but in Roman's mind, he successfully turned his cousins against him.

Everybody leaves. No matter how hard he tries. No matter if he's the good guy or the bad guy. That's why he's chosen to simply be THE guy.

The only person he trusts with his heart is Lilith, and even so he's been known to lose sleep wondering if it's a matter of time before he decides she isn't good enough. If he loses the title will she leave? if he's knocked off of the top of the mountain will she still be there?

That's part of why he's so dedicated to extending an olive branch to Jey, even if he feels he's making an absolute fool of himself. He has to be a better man. For Lilith.

"What if you write him an apology letter instead?" Lilith asked.

With that, Roman spent the afternoon penning a letter to his cousin with Lilith by his side soothingly rubbing his broad shoulders for moral support, He sits down at their dining table, a pen in hand and a blank sheet of paper before him. The room is dimly lit, with the soft glow of a candle casting flickering shadows on the walls. Roman begins to pour his emotions onto the paper. He takes a deep breath, his gaze fixed on the flickering flame of the candle, and begins to write his apology.

"Dear Jey,

I hope this letter finds you well. I've been wrestling with my feelings and regrets, and I find myself needing to express them to you. First and foremost, I want to apologize for my actions and the pain they may have caused you. I may not fully understand your decision to team up with Cody Rhodes, but I realize now why you've decided to leave the bloodline.

I want you to know that my love for our family, our bloodline, has always been at the forefront of my decisions. Every step I took, every move I made, was with the intention of protecting and upholding our legacy. But in doing so, I failed to see the impact it had on you, my cousin, my brother.

I am hurt, Jey. Hurt that you chose to align yourself with Cody Rhodes, someone who I perceive as a threat to our bloodline. It felt like a betrayal. I am hurt that you attempted to take my position as tribal chief. I'm hurt that at every turn whether is be with Sami or with Jimmy or even with Cody you failed to choose my side. But looking back, I realize that family is more important than any rivalry or personal agenda.

I want to mend our relationship, to rebuild the bond we once had. We've faced countless challenges together, and I believe we can overcome this as well. Let's set aside our differences and find a way to heal the wounds that have come between us.

I am committed to making amends, to listening to your side of the story, and to understanding your perspective. I value you, Jey, and I want nothing more than to have you back by my side, fighting alongside me in the ring and in life as my right hand man.

Please know that I am here, ready to talk and listen whenever you are. Let's find a way to move forward together, for the sake of our bloodline.

With love and remorse

- Your Tribal Chief, the head of the table, your cousin.

Roman Reigns"

Roman finishes writing and reads the letter aloud, feeling the weight of his words as he fights back tears. He refused to cry. Lilith reaches out and places a comforting hand on his, offering support and reassurance. She believes that this heartfelt letter will serve as a catalyst for their reconciliation, hoping that Jey will see the sincerity in Roman's words. She knew this was far from easy for him.

Roman takes a deep breath, feeling a mix of vulnerability and determination. He knows that this letter is his best chance to convey his true emotions to Jey, to show him how much he values their bond as family. With Lilith's guidance, he revises a few sentences, ensuring that his apology is genuine and heartfelt.

Once satisfied with the final version of the letter, Roman folds it neatly and tucks it into an envelope. He seals it and places it on the kitchen counter, ready to be delivered to Jey.

"You did good, Ro. You should be proud of yourself." Lilith said.

Roman gives a small, appreciative smile. Her words bring a sense of comfort and validation to his anxious mind. He takes a moment to let her words sink in, feeling a glimmer of pride and gratitude for her unwavering support.

"Thank you, Lil," Roman replies, his voice warm with sincerity. "I couldn't have done it without you by my side."

Lilith reaches over and gently squeezes Roman's hand, her eyes reflecting a mixture of pride and affection. "You've shown true growth, Roman. It takes strength to acknowledge our mistakes and make amends. I believe in you, and I know that your heartfelt gesture will make a difference."

"The bloodline means everything to me, family means everything to me. I want nothing more than to have Jey back by my side, fighting together."

Lilith's gaze softens as she listens to Roman's heartfelt words. She understands the depth of his desire to mend his relationship with Jey, to restore the unity and strength of their family. She reaches out to gently brush her fingers against his cheek, offering him a reassuring smile.

"Your sincerity will shine through, and I believe that Jey will see it too. Trust in the bond you share, and give him the time he needs. Remember, apologies are just the beginning. It's through actions and consistent effort that true healing and forgiveness can be achieved."

Roman takes a deep breath and nods allowing Lilith's words to wash over him. Her presence and guidance have been instrumental in his journey towards growth and reconciliation. With newfound determination, he sets his sights on the future, ready to do whatever it takes to rebuild the bond with his cousin and bring their family back together. Roman gives a small smile and leans in for a kiss.

Lilith kisses him back with love and passion, "You've got this, Ro." She said.

#roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns #the tribal chief #wwe roman reigns #head of the table #the head of the table #the only one #wwe the bloodline #the bloodline #Roman Reigns angst #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns fluff

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greta-van-chaos · 2 years

Note

hiii can you do a smutty fluffy jake x reader where ur insecure about your body & ur confidence has been down a lot but jake tries to prove to u that he thinks ur actually irresistible 🫶🏼 pls make it filthy the girlies could use it i love ur writing

Right Side of My Neck

Jake Kiszka x Reader

Warnings | Explicit sexual content, cursing, angst, anxiety, body image issues, rough sex, mirror play, hair pulling

Word Count | 2.2k words

Authors Note | I keep saying that I'm gonna write and release new stuff but I have had zero motivation. I have a lot of stuff in the works that im clearing out of my drafts... then its time for me to open requests again!

The water sloshes around your body, lapping at your sternum as you make the last step into the pool. Jake is nowhere to be found and so you make your way to the edge so you can set down the two beers you retrieved. Your eyes scan the backyard and the more people you see the tighter your throat gets. So many pretty girls in tiny bikinis, prancing around looking like models.

You've never been a fan of parties but you know that dating a rockstar comes with having to attend a fair share of them. You love Jake too much to turn down an event like this and so that's how you got yourself here, standing on the sidelines rather uncomfortably in a bikini that's way too small and makes you feel ridiculous.

"Hey baby," Jake pulls you out of your thoughts when he makes his way through the water to stand at your side and take you by your hips, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You blink away any tears that had been threatening to fall, clear your throat and wrap your arms around his neck. "Hey! where'd you go?"

"Josh texted saying he needed help with something, turns out he just wanted me to mix him a drink--" Jake rolls his eyes and scoffs "I know I'm the better mixologist but he could've done it himself." You stay quiet, the tears welling up again at how stupid you feel for being insecure and letting it ruin the mood. Jake catches on immediately and places a hand on the small of your back, the other coming up to rest on your cheek. "Are you okay, baby? What's wrong?"

"I'm fine!" You say, a little to excitedly as you wipe your tears away, plastering on a fake smile and wiling your voice not to shake. Of course, Jake doesn't fall for that.

"Seriously, something is up, what's wrong? You can talk to me."

All at once the buzz of the party becomes far too overwhelming, all of the chatter now zoning into the anxiety department of your brain. "Can we go somewhere quiet please? It's so loud."

"Of course, here--" Jake slips his hand into yours and begins to wade his way through the water, weaving around the heaps of people that have flocked around his brother Sam who just waded his way into the water. Once out he leads you into the house guides you up the stairs. You can barely navigate the house you're in but Jake pulls you along as if he's lived here his whole life. You're not even sure he knows who's house this is.

"Do you know where you're going?" You keep a firm grip on his hand but something in you falters when he stops in the middle of the hallway as if contemplating where he is.

"Not really. I came up here earlier to go to the bathroom, I just can't remember what door it was."

Despite his words Jake very confidently reaches for the handle of the closest door and pushes it open to reveal a very expensive looking bathroom. He gently pulls you inside by your wrist and shuts the door, clicking the lock behind you.

"Do you want to sit?" He motions to the marble edge of the bathtub that looks like its built in to the wall. You shake your head and stay standing in front of him, arms crossed over your stomach. He tsks and moves them away, taking each of your hands in his own. "What's wrong?"

The tone of his voice makes it very hard to keep your composure. He sounds so goddamn concerned and although you love him for it, it almost makes you feel worse for the negative thoughts about your body cropping up in your brain.

"I just--" Voice cracking you pull your hands back and hide your face behind them, shielding your eyes from his concerned stare.

Jake reaches out to stroke your arm, "It's okay, this is a safe space, you can tell me anything, baby, anything."

"I know-- god-- I know! I just feel so stupid."

You dare to glance at him and his eyebrows are drawn up in worry, why do you always have to do this? Jake stays silent and bids you to continue with a nod of his head.

"Everyone here-- Everyone has such nice bodies, they all look so good in their bathing suits and-- I just--" You sigh, not really wanting to finish the sentence and hoping he can piece it together himself like the ever intuitive boyfriend he is.

"Oh, baby..." His face falls and your heart clenches in your chest.

"I'm sorry-- I don't--"

"Why are you apologizing?" He takes a step towards you, pulling your wrists into his hands and rubbing over them soothingly with his thumbs. "You never have to apologize. If anything I'm sorry. I wish you didn't have to feel like that."

"I just wish I was as beautiful as all of the other girls."

Something in his eyes changes and it's just barely noticeable. If it was anyone else with Jake right now the shift would go under the radar but you know him inside and out. The energy in the room is flipped on it's axis, thick tension seeping into the air between you.

"Are you kidding me?" He says it almost accusingly but you know him better than that, if anything he sounds... territorial.

"I don't understand why I don't look like them-- Why my body isn't--" A sob chokes you up, catching in your throat and you have to look away from Jake.

Silence overtakes the room, so potent that the only thing you can hear is you own heavy breathing. You can barely stand to sneak a glance at your boyfriend and when you do the expression on his face is chilling.

"Do you seriously not see how fucking gorgeous you look?" His voice has dropped an octave and the look on his face is one of pure lust. You want to be offended by the tone he's taken on but you can't help the warm tingling feeling that's sparked to life in your stomach. The atmosphere changed so quickly that you almost didn't notice it but nevertheless you welcome the change.

"Jake--" You breathe, stepping back and pushing yourself up against the counter.

"I'm serious, you look fucking perfect. Here--" Without warning Jake steps forward and slips his arms around your waist, turning you so you're now facing the wide mirror above the sink.

The sight your met with is not something you'd consider attractive but with Jake's wandering hands and the hot kisses he's trailing down your neck you can't seem to form a proper thought.

"You. Are. Beautiful." He mumbles against your shoulder, in-between kisses. Slowly, his hands trails down your stomach, to your bathing suit bottoms. They're tied tightly on each hip and when his fingers play over the small bows you secured earlier when getting dressed his eyes meet yours in the mirror, asking you silently for permission.

"Please, Jake." Your fingers card through his hair, pulling his mouth against your neck harder and forcing you to arch your back when his body is pulled tighter against you.

He takes his sweet ass time pulling the strings of your bottoms to loosen and eventually let them fall off of your body. From there he kicks them away and caresses your stomach, gently running his fingers over the skin.

The ripple of goosebumps that covers your skin only spurs him on further. Carefully and so incredibly slow, he drags the tips of his fingers in small patterns over your stomach, dipping just low enough to send a chill down your spine but not quite low enough to quell the heat blooming between your thighs.

"Look at yourself," He whispers. "You're a goddess."

Reluctantly your eyes scan your body and as you watch his hands move over you you feel a bit more confident. Not to mention how the way his gaze is devouring you makes you feel, just by looking in your direction he makes you feel sexy. When his hands travel to your shoulders and down your back you're already nodding, almost begging him to bare your naked body to him. The speed in which he removes your bra greatly contrasts how slowly he slipped off your bottoms, his fingers hungrily work at the ties until it falls away and he can cup your breasts, kneading the flesh. You press yourself against him and can feel the very obvious bulge in his swim trunks against your ass.

"That's what you do to me baby, you're perfect. I never want you to feel any other way because you really are perfect."

"Thank you, Jakey. Thankyouthankyouthankyou." The praise slips past your lips like a mantra and seems to be the only coherent thought you can manage. His wandering hands make it very hard for you to focus, so much so that you tip your head back and close your eyes, letting the fuzzy feeling of lust take over.

"Look at yourself. I wanna see you looking or I'll stop what I'm doing. You're so beautiful baby, just look and see."

When you reluctantly pull your gaze back to the mirror and meet your own stare you want to cringe away but then you feel Jake's hand between your legs and you watch as he circles your clit with an unmatched care.

"Wanna feel you, Jake." You whine, reaching back to thread your fingers through his hair.

Through the mirror you watch one of his hands come up to cup your breast while the other continues to work between your legs.

"You can feel me baby, i'm right here." He taps your clit lightly with his fingers before going back to his earlier motions.

"No, no, Jake, want your--" A moan rips through your chest when he sinks two fingers into you and without thinking your head tips back.

"Nuh uh baby, eyes on the mirror." He truly does completely stall any and all movement until you're looking at yourself again which makes you groan out of frustration. "So fuckin' needy, baby. Who got you all wound up like this? Hm?"

"You Jakey, please. Want you to fuck me. Pretty please, baby" Your words come out stuttered and breathy which makes him smirk.

"Well only cause you asked so nicely."

He removes his hand from between your legs to free himself of him swim trunks. His other hand still holds it's grip on your breast and in a teasing act he pinches your nipple lightly. You yelp and without warning he pushes into you, filling you up completely and pushing you down against the counter.

"Look at yourself, baby. So fucking pretty. So perfect."

You can't speak, you can only whine and moan as he fucks into you, wrapping a hand into your hair and pulling you up enough that you can still see yourself in the mirror.

"You're my pretty baby, aren't you?" He fucks you harder, his hips slamming against you and knocking your body into the cool marble top. "Say it."

Breathing wildly and barely holding onto anything as your own hips are rammed into the cabinets you meet his eyes in the mirror with a questioning look.

"You heard me. Fucking say it. Tell me you're my pretty baby."

With a high pitched moan you barely breathe "I'm your pretty baby, Jakey."

He groans and his eyes roll back into his head, hips faltering slighting. "Say it again, say that you're my pretty girl. Fuck--"

The only sound filling the bathroom is the slapping of your skin and your collective moans. Any passersby would very quickly be able to come to the conclusion of what exactly was happening behind the door.

"I'm your pretty girl, I'm your pretty baby"

"Yeah you are, baby."

You actually find it pretty easy to keep your eyes on yourself through the mirror. Although your eyes do stray behind you to view how fucked out Jake looks as he thrusts into you and holds your hair in a fist, every once and a while jerking you back a bit, you don't mind looking at your own body and face. There's something so incredibly sexy about being made to watch yourself come undone.

"You close?" He breathes, pressing a hot, sloppy kiss to your neck.

"So close." You cry, holding the faucet the keep yourself grounded.

"Touch yourself for me."

Without a second thought you slip that hand that isn't around the sink between your legs and within a few circles you can feel yourself nearing the edge of your orgasm. Your so close you can barely get the words out to warm him.

"Gonna cum, Jakey, please--"

"Go ahead, baby. Let it go for me."

When you finally are pushed into the tidal wave that is your orgasm, the last thing you see before your eyes close is Jake's blissed out face as he finds his own release in tandem with you. He can be so angelic and beautiful during even the most unholy of moments.

He continues to push into you, riding out your high as you come down as well as his own. You feel him let go inside of you and a sigh leaves your lips at the sensation.

When he finally does pull out you both wince from the overstimulation and loss of contact. Immediately he grabs some toilet paper to clean you up and helps you to sit on the counter.

"You are the most beautiful person on this earth and I never want you to doubt or forget that. Okay?"

"Thank you, Jake. I love you."

"I love you too." He whispers. In contrast to the heated affair you had both been lost in moments ago, he gently presses his lips to yours and brings his fingertips to massage over your scalp where he was holding your hair. "Was that okay?"

"Better than okay." You smile, kissing the tip of his nose.

After you both have a minute to regroup and eventually redress, he helps you off of the counter. "We should probably get back to the party, is that okay? Or do you want to just go home?"

You reach up and kiss his cheek, "We can stay."

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clotpolesonly · 3 months

Note

I'm so curious about the Declan was abused by a priest au 👀

my friend Cami and i can't help it, we just look at promiscuous characters with intense trust and intimacy issues and ask "is anybody gonna hc a history of sexual abuse here??" and then don't wait for an answer adlkjfgh

this verse -- (dubbed "the Wesleyverse", after our OC priest, Father Wesley) -- began with "and i am not gonna think about the reputation the catholic church has for sexual abuse of young boys because i have already delivered plenty of trauma and angst upon my boys and it also it feels uncouth alkdfjhadgf 😅 bUT ALSO" which was met with a resounding "I WENT THERE TOO" from Cami, and it spiraled from there

i'm just saying, a quiet self-sufficient anxious boy with an unstable home life and who has already had the importance of keeping secrets drilled into him would be very convenient for a sexual predator. socially isolated and emotionally unfulfilled. the ignored child, the overlooked, no one's favorite -- desperate for the validation and attention that he doesn't get from his parents, at least not the way he wants it. resentful of his brothers and their specialness.

Father Wesley made him feel special. like he was the important one for once, more important than all the other boys, more important than Ronan who he could've chosen instead. Father Wesley gave Declan all the attention and praise and reassurance that he craved, and all it took was playing some private games. secret and unpleasant and ever-escalating "games" that made Declan feel bad in a variety of ways, but Declan was used to that. cleaning up after dad's and Ronan's dreams were games, according to Aurora, and those made him feel bad too. those were unpleasant too. those made him afraid too. those were things he couldn't tell anyone about too.

how is a 6yo supposed to know the difference between a secret that should be kept and a secret that shouldn't be? a game he has to play behind closed doors whether he wants to or not and a game he needs to tell a trusted adult about?

(there aren't many adults he trusts anyway. who is supposed to be more trustworthy than their priest? Father Wesley speaks for god, doesn't he? he's the highest authority. right?)

so anyway. all that lasted a while, maybe from ages 6 to 8, when Father Wesley stopped wanting to play with him. it took months for Declan to realize that he wasn't coming back, that for better or for worse it was over. (relieved, yes. hurt, also yes. abandoned. unfavorite. if Father Wesley doesn't love him anymore, does it mean god doesn't either?) he put it behind him, labeled it as over and done with, and he did everything he could to bury it and pretend it never happened. he never told anyone and he never intended to.

it's been 11 years since the abuse stopped, Wesley's been retired from St Agnes for 5 or 6 years, a whole lot of shit has happened and life has been very busy for Declan (set post-TRK, more or less lol). things are finally calming down a little bit. the Gray Man has the underground shit handled for the time being, he and Matthew are back in town (because reasons, don't ask about georgetown, it's not important) and his relationship with Ronan is stabilizing. everything is fine.

and then Father Wesley gets arrested.

Gansey forwards the article to Ronan. Ronan shows it to Declan when he's stopped by monmouth for whatever reason, like holy shit, this is crazy, can you believe this??? fucked up, amirite??

doesn't notice at first that Declan has gone completely still.

it isn't until he mentions that the police are going through all the evidence to see if they can identify the victims -- indicating that it's not just, ya know, possession of materials from the internet, but actual production, records of his actual abuse -- that Declan fucking bolts. and Ronan is like UMMM?? DON'T LIKE THE IMPLICATIONS OF THAT

and here's the thing about the Lynch brothers. they may not get along. they may have a lot of water under the bridge. they may be liable to attack each other at the drop of a hat. but the second someone else attacks one of them? they close ranks. Ronan may not like his brother all that much but it's still HIS brother, thank you very much, his family, and anybody who lays a fucking hand on him is gonna suffer the consequences.

he has to chase Declan down. checks his condo, checks his work, checks the Barns, even calls Matthew to ask if he's seen him. finally finds him at the absolute LAST place he expected -- the church. it's late afternoon on a tuesday or something and there's no one else there. it's just Declan, alone in the sanctuary, with a rosary that Ronan hasn't seen him actually use in years.

Ronan doesn't remember ever having seen Declan cry before, and he's not crying now but it's obvious that he has been. that he's fighting to keep control of himself now. says he came here to be alone.

Ronan says fuck that, he's not just gonna leave.

after a minute, Declan abruptly sits up, suddenly blank and businesslike and steady, and he tells Ronan to ask his questions. which is.........disturbing, for Ronan. because he's seen this face before. he's seen it a dozen, a hundred, a thousand times. it's the cool detachment that's always rubbed Ronan the wrong way, earned Declan accusations of being an unfeeling robot, someone who just didn't care as much as Ronan did about anything or anyone.

had this face always had all this under it? could he really just pull it on over top of.........of ALL THIS and pretend that none of those feelings were there?? hide them that well?? fucking hell.

Ronan refuses to ask any questions. he has plenty, of course, but he's not here to interrogate him. (he doesn't even know how to put his questions into words anyway, fuck, he's just trying to wrap his head around it.) Declan said he wanted to be alone, obviously he doesn't wanna talk about it, so Ronan is gonna sit here with him for as long as Declan wants to be here, and later if Declan wants to talk about it then, then they can talk about it, and if not, they won't, and that's it.

it's silent for a few minutes as Ronan sits stubbornly and tries not to look, but out of the corner of his eye he can see as Declan's face crumbles bit by bit. as he fights so hard to keep his composure and, without opposition to set himself against, fails.

(he's not used to Ronan not pushing back, not being combative or accusatory. he definitely never expected support. and it's hitting him that Ronan knows. that pretty soon, everyone in town is going to know. Henrietta is a small town, it's a gossipy church community, they're only a few years off from when predatory priests were headline news all over the world, this is not staying quiet. and there's evidence. identifiable evidence and a police investigation and calls being made to victims. there is no way that his name is staying out of this no matter what he does. the situation is officially outside of his control, and that's terrifying.)

he's never cried in front of Ronan before, not since they were very small children, but even his prodigious repression skills have a failure point and he's reached it. he's curled in on himself and there are gasping, gulping sobs in the silence of the empty church, and Ronan eventually throws caution to the wind and does what he would do if it were Matthew. he puts a hand on Declan's back, just maintaining contact, proving that he's there and he's not leaving.

........

SO ANYWAY

this verse goes on and on, my anon friend, this is the set up and we just kept spinning out the thread for literally a year at this point, i think it was jan 2023 that we started talking about this concept 😂 it's not always one linear narrative, we branch off into "ooh i wanna see when X happens" in a patchwork kinda fashion, just rolling around in the sandbox and exploring the premise and also all the relationships and the way this particular trauma interacts with all the other traumas and also Ronan and Matthew's traumas and all their dynamics with each other.

Cami and i lean toward the self-indulgence of letting the Lynches actually make the occasional healthy and productive choice, because there is nothing more cathartic and satisfying to us than having them actually talk to each other, so by god these little fuckers are communicating in a semi-functional manner most of the time. they love each other, goddamn it, they're gonna fucking act like it. also about 30k in we finally got Declan into therapy 😂😂😂 good god he needs it, lmao.

.......i also accidentally got REALLY INVESTED in an OC, Jeremy, who was Father Wesley's next victim, the one he moved on to after Declan. i did not mean to start shipping Matthew and Jeremy, but here i am, a Meremy stan. i love them. #otp

so. lemme know if you want more, lol. i've got so so much more alkfdjh

#and the answer is #Anonymous #Declan Lynch #Ronan Lynch #TRC #fics by me #in a manner of speaking #wesleyverse #csa tw #rape tw

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deantfwinchester · 1 year

Text

A Simple Request

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: After returning to Jackson, Joel and Ellie finally meet their neighbor, a young woman who teaches at the schoolhouse. While the two settle in, Tommy asks her for a favor - that she look after Joel and Ellie from time to time, when he can't. She's happy to help of course, and may find its a better fit than either could've hoped.

Part 1/?

Word Count: 818 (drabble length for Ch 1 honestly)

A/N: Honestly, we just need more content where Joel gets cared for rather than vice versa - that is mostly what this will be. First time actually posting anything, so let's hope I actually write the other chapters!

There's a lot of beautiful writing that shows how empathetic and caring Joel is to the people around him - it's his turn to receive.

___________________________________________

She met Joel on a Thursday.

To be precise, she met Joel and Ellie on a Thursday afternoon, a few days after the two came back to the house they’d left behind months ago. She’d caught a glimpse of the broad, somber-looking man and a chattering young girl entering the house next door to her own one night around Christmas, but when she’d gone to introduce herself the next day, the house was empty. Curious, of course, but not entirely surprising. Jackson was a kind of haven in a world ravaged by fungus, fear, and all the choices people make in between – and sometimes those people see the comfort they could have here and run back into the dark.

Wednesday, Late May 2023

One day, as the spring shifted from wet to warm, she saw them again while tending her garden, trudging back toward the house as Tommy led the way. The pair certainly looked worse for wear – exhausted, weathered, and in need of a shower for sure, but while the somber look he’d carried on her previous glimpse had lightened just a tad, the girl in tow was quieter. She looked around distractedly, and smiled softly to the other two when addressed, or nodded where necessary. Perhaps she just needed some rest.

Frankly, both of them looked to need sleep desperately, so introductions would need to wait until tomorrow. She greeted Tommy as he exited the house and ambled down the porch steps.

“Got some new neighbors for ya” he said, sucking air between his teeth, hesitant.

“Yeah I noticed. Didn’t get the chance to introduce myself back at Christmas, kept wondering what happened to them. He’s your brother, right?” This she already knew (the town talks, especially around the holidays) but she was pressing a bit, and Tommy didn’t mind.

“Yep. They’re staying this time, I hope. I’m real glad to have ‘em back.” He nodded, reassuring himself.

“I’ll bet you are. Get to know he’s somewhere safe, ease your mind.” She says, nodding along. “I’m excited to meet them, but they look like they need a while. When do you think I should…” she trailed off, confident Tommy could fill in the blanks.

“Yeah, maybe give ‘em a couple of days. Gotta warn you though, Joel can be a bit… prickly. He doesn’t mean anything by it he just, might take some time to warm up. If you’re willing to try.” He said, hesitantly.

She can tell he’s holding back, like there’s something to ask that he’s afraid to mention. She brushes it off, hoping to put him at ease enough to say what he needs.

“I’m sure it’ll be great. You know me, love a challenge” she says, inhaling with a brow raised.

“I do know that, you’re right. Schoolhouse sure is full of ‘em” he huffs a laugh and smiles at her, squinting in the May sun peeking behind the clouds.

“I got ages 5-17 down, I’m sure I can handle one prickly guy and his little girl.” She smiles back, and looks at Tommy with a warmth she hopes is reassuring; that it lets him know she won’t give up before she starts. She can tell he needs that for his brother.

“Listen, I’d really love it if you would try, even if it takes some time. He’s been through hell and back, they both have. I put ‘em up by you hoping, maybe, you’d keep an eye out? Make sure they’re alright every now and again?” She could see he was anxious to ask, but his concern for the two kept him from wavering. For the second time in their conversation she found herself wanting to assuage any fears he had in this regard. Of course she’d look after her neighbors; that’s what this community was built on, after all.

“Yeah, of course I will. Maybe I’ll bring some food by when I introduce myself tomorrow. Seem like they could use a hot meal to themselves -- dining hall can be a lot when you’re new” she said reassuringly, hoping her words and the understanding in her eyes would be enough to allay Tommy’s previous hesitance.

He exhaled a bit in obvious relief, “I think they’d like that. Ellie certainly will, at least. Thank you, really. You’ll tell me how it goes?”

“I’ll be sure to give you guys a full report.” she says, smiling. She says goodbye to Tommy, and he makes his leave, as she turns back to her weeding.

Joel and Ellie. Nice to put names to the faces. Already she’s mentally flipping through her rolodex of doable recipes, wondering what will get her some brownie points with Ellie, and maybe alleviate some of this hesitance Tommy’s warned her about. No matter – she spends her days at the schoolhouse, dealing with hesitant or moody kids of all ages, she can handle a little prickle.

_____________________________________________________________

Part 2 is now up here !

#joel miller fluff #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller ima #joel miller imagine #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fluff crusade

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hb-writes · 1 year

Text

Little Lady Blinder - Chapter 32

Between the Lines, 1919

Also available here on ff net or here on AO3.

Chapter Content Warning: canon-typical content

—

“Don’t even think about it."

Clara turned toward her brother, finally pulling her gaze from the family car as it plodded around the corner, Tommy and Grace disappearing along with it.

“Don’t think about what?” she asked, scuffing her feet as she stepped a bit closer.

John rolled his eyes, taking measure to be theatrical about it, before fixing his sister with a look. “Tom’s done his bit. He's cheered you all up,” he said. John would never admit that he was a bit hurt by the fact Tommy had managed to drop Clara off with a smile on her face—everything between the two of them seemingly fine now—and less than a minute after being left alone with John, the girl was already sulking again. He pressed his finger into the corner of Clara’s frowning mouth. “Don’t go getting all grumpy on me again.”

Clara huffed, slapping at John's hand and he snorted, lifting his eyes above his sister’s head as she started complaining.

“I’m not—”

“Well, hullo there, Lizzie,” John said, interrupting Clara to greet the woman. John pushed himself off the brick to stand up straight, shoving his hands into his pockets and stepping a bit in front of Clara as he observed Lizzie approaching. “Looking extra lovely this morning. Got anything special there in that basket for me?”

Clara spun on her heels, coming face to face with a blushing Lizzie Stark.

Lizzie shrugged. “Just some special treats for the kids.”

John hummed, thinking but not saying the first few things that came to his mind—the first, that his little monsters didn't deserve any special treats and the second, that he wouldn't mind a special treat from Lizzie. John swallowed down both comments and set his hand on Clara’s shoulder instead, maneuvering her to stand in front of him. “You’ve met my sister.”

Lizzie nodded, offering another small smile, her face still flushed. Lizzie had been about to greet the girl properly, but John continued on without realizing he was interrupting anything. “Clara and I were just arguing about whether or not she looked grumpy.” John shifted his hand beneath Clara’s chin, smirking as he tilted her head back and leaned over to look down at her, going through the motions of giving Clara’s face a thorough examination.

Again, Clara tried to push her brother's hands away, unsuccessfully in her attempts to put a bit of distance between herself and John. The struggle went on only a few seconds, but Lizzie could've sworn it felt like ages while she stood there watching. If Clara hadn’t looked particularly grumpy before, she certainly did now with her arms folded over her chest and her face a bit red, a mix of anger and embarrassment coloring her features. Lizzie glanced away from the pair, down the lane, purposefully appearing to catch her gaze on a bit of movement in one of the houses near the corner.

John abandoned his attempts at handling his sister and glanced up at their guest. “What do you think, Lizzie? She look grumpy to you?”

“Oh, I—” Lizzie started, a bit flustered by the question. Her eyes darted from John to Clara and her face mirrored the girl’s for a second, a small frown passing over her lips. “I um…”

“I told her the grumpiness is hiding here and here,” John said, once again battling with Clara’s hands to point out the grumpy corner of her mouth and the stubborn little line between her brows.

“John!” Clara complained. “Stop it!”

"Fine." John snorted, holding his hands up in defense as he leaned back against the brick. “Fine. Maybe you’ll have better luck with her, Lizzie.”

He winked at Lizzie and then he leaned to the side, reaching out to open the front door. He stopped suddenly before stepping over the threshold and turned back to the girls, Clara nearly bumping into him since she’d been following behind so close.

“And if she gives you any trouble—” John spoke directly to Lizzie as he reached out toward Clara. “—here’s a little trick.” Clara caught John's arm as he reached out to tickle her beneath the chin, quickly swinging under it and bolting through the open door. Clara figured she could just dissolve herself into the chaos that was John’s children while her brother got on the road, avoiding him for the next few minutes, and ensuring that the children would eliminate any opportunity Lizzie might have to speak with her brother alone.

Clara made it up the first three steps before her brother's hand closed around her elbow. She tried to push him off, going so far as to lift her boot and sending it into his leg. “Oi! Enough. You take a seat,” he said, with a nod of his head toward the stairs.

Lizzie quickly excused herself at that, moving past them to drop her basket in the kitchen. John watched her go, waiting for the kitchen door to swing closed before turning back to his sister. John ran a hand over his face before he spoke.

“Promise me you’ll be nicer to Lizzie than you’re being to me, eh?”

“I’m not being—”

“A brat?” John scoffed. “Could’ve fooled me.” Clara was poised to protest, but John continued on. “And maybe you have every reason to be. Maybe where me and Tommy are concerned, you’ve got the right of it, but not with Lizzie and not with the kids. They don't deserve this, eh?”

John said the words though he didn't quite know what this even was, still a bit confused by the course of their morning and his sister's shifting mood. A wave of exhaustion came over him as he looked at her, feeling as though they'd already lived a whole day in the last few hours. He could see she felt the same, another wave of emotion building up in her as she sat on the steps in front of him.

A lump was forming in Clara's throat, a few tears suddenly spilling out of her eyes as she buried her face in her arms. “I wasn’t gonna—”

“Alright, alright,” John said, sitting beside her and interrupting when he heard the strain came through in her little voice.

Clara looked up at him and John frowned, reaching out to wipe away the stubborn tears. “And you still don’t want to just tell—” he started, raising his hands in defense as Clara shook her head and tried to shift away from him.

“How about a—” Clara smacked John’s hand away as he tried to fit it beneath her chin once again. He nearly got a smirk out of her before Clara closed back in on herself, crushing her arms around over her chest and backing against the wall, putting as much space between them as she could on the tiny third step of the staircase.

John sighed and pulled her into his chest with an arm, half certain she’d fight him on it and push out of his hold, but Clara seemed to thaw a little instead as he held her. Only a few seconds passed before she was stretching out her arms around him and holding him back just as tight.

“I’m not a brat,” she mumbled.

John snorted, shaking his head. “Yes, you are. But you know who else is?” he asked, waiting a beat before answering. “Tommy and Polly and Ada and Finn and Arthur…and your nieces and nephews, for sure.”

“And you,” Clara said.

“No, no,” John said, shaking his head. “The rest of you lot, maybe…”

Clara smiled this time, but the moment was short-lived as Finn smashed through the front door, his cheeks red and his breaths huffing from running through the streets. “Arthur says it’s time.”

John nodded, some type of urgency and excitement shifting in him as he guided Clara up from the steps and moved all three of them toward the kitchen.

Finn eyed Lizzie as he came through to the kitchen a moment later, meeting Clara’s eye quickly before John steered him out the back door, giving him instructions to tell Arthur he was on his way. Neither twin had gotten the chance to speak, but Clara knew they were both thinking the same thing—that Lizzie Stark being there was risky for them. And it was risky, but there wasn't much either of them could do about it, not now at least.

Clara and Lizzie watched in silence as John doubled back through the house to grab his hat. He stopped to kiss Lizzie on his way to the back door. Clara busied herself with studying her shoes, not looking up until John cleared his throat.

He stood at the threshold of the back door when Clara finally looked up. “You’ll be good, then, yeah?”

Clara nodded. “What about you and—?”

John rolled his eyes. “Don’t you go worrying about me,” he said, though it wasn’t quite possible. Clara knew she might be able to get lost in the chaos of John’s kids for a bit, but she’d not be able to really stop thinking about her brothers—worrying about them and their absence—until they were all back home in Small Heath.

“Just help keep my lot in line,” John said, lingering only long enough to get a nod out of his sister.

Just like that, Clara was alone in a quiet house with Lizzie Stark. As the silence stretched on, Clara started thinking to herself that today of all days must've been the first time in her memory that John’s kids were sleeping in. Of course, it was the only time that Clara had been banking on their help for a little chaos—a little distraction, a little something to do other than stand in the kitchen alone with this woman.

Clara toed around the kitchen looking for something that needed doing—anything, really—but the room was already spotless. Clara imagined John had tidied up on account of Lizzie, trying to make a good impression.

“Have you had breakfast?” Lizzie’s back faced Clara as she retrieved the bread and biscuits she had baked at home from her basket.

“I thought we could have something to eat and maybe some tea before the little ones wake?” Lizzie continued. “To fortify ourselves.”

Lizzie giggled and Clara allowed herself a smile at that, something in her loosened by the woman’s smile.

“Do you like tea?” Lizzie asked.

Clara nodded and Lizzie got to work on their tea and breakfast.

“They won’t misbehave with you this time." A few moments of silence had passed before Clara directed the words to Lizzie’s back while she settled the kettle on the stove. “They’re right terrors when they want to be, but—”

“They’re kids.” Lizzie shrugged. “Kids cause trouble sometimes.”

And adults, too, Lizzie thought to herself, but she wouldn’t get into that—not with a kid, even if Lizzie had already known all about the trouble caused by adults by the time she was Clara’s age and suspected the girl knew a fair bit as well. Lizzie figured she had to, having Peaky Blinders for brothers and all.

Lizzie sliced the bread loaf in silence, thinking of all of the things she’d learned about Clara Shelby over the years, but especially in recent months. Lizzie knew far more about the girl than just what John had told her. Far more than the things Tommy had told her about the girl, too. Lizzie suspected she knew more about Clara and Finn’s scrapping than either of the brothers knew, which was partially her own doing. Lizzie had had the opportunity to tell both John and Tommy, but she hadn’t told either.

Lizzie had decided quickly and without much debate that she would keep what she had seen to herself. And when Tommy had shown up at her doorstep not ten minutes after the kids cleared off the lane, she said nothing of what she’d seen of the Shelby twins. How could she? How could she tell Tommy without having to explain why they were there. And then if she told Tommy, John would be wondering why she hadn’t told him…and why Tommy had been at her doorstep. Lizzie’s secrets were somehow tied right up there with the twins’ secret. There was just no way Lizzie could see for explaining what the twins were doing there on her lane without the details of her dalliance with both Shelby men coming out.

Lizzie turned to watch Clara. The girl was clearly lost in a sea of thought as she stared out the back window. Lizzie couldn't blame her, really. John had told Lizzie all that had happened to the girl recently. The constant back and forth with Tommy, Clara being dragged off to the police station...it sounded awful, even if it was something John had laughed at, like it was a right of passage for a Shelby and he was proud of her for it, but based on the bits and pieces of Clara that had been described by her brothers, Lizzie didn't imagine she shared John's sentiments.

Tommy rarely spoke about her—he rarely spoke of anything, but when Lizzie prompted, saying she had seen him out here or there with the little girl, keeping herself from further commenting that the sight of him with the girl by his side was a softer version of Tommy than she was used to so that she didn’t risk him shutting down. After a note of quiet, Tommy would usually say something about her then. Just a few words, but they were enough that Lizzie felt she understood something about the youngest Shelby.

John spoke about his siblings often, loose with his words with or without liquor lubricating his memories. He told stories and he blew off steam, condemning and celebrating them all from one sentence to the next.

“First in line to Tommy’s throne,” John often joked. “Well, if she wasn’t a girl. Been that way since she was born.”

Lizzie had started to get the impression that John was a bit jealous, both of the way that Tommy doted on their sister and the way she reciprocated that care and attention. There was a part of John that wanted to be loved, wanted to be chosen. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, that part of John resonated with Lizzie, but whatever the brothers said, Lizzie got the impression that neither of them saw her quite right. They each knew her in their own way, but like anyone else, Clara was more than what she showed to any one of them.

Clara Shelby had always seemed so polite, a conglomerate of caution and wisdom that she wouldn't call exactly normal for a kid, but it was there, consistent whenever Lizzie read between the lines of a story delivered from one of the brothers or when she came across the girl in the streets. Almost like she was an adult, like they all believed because she was clever and well-mannered, she was mature, but Lizzie she was a kid. She seemed like a good kid, a thoughtful kid, but a kid all the same. That too, was a part of why Lizzie was keeping her secret. The other two boys had been fine, aside from a little blood. It was nothing to cause more trouble over.

“John says you’re good with your nieces and nephews,” Lizzie finally prompted, pulled from her thoughts by the steady whistle of the heated kettle.

Clara nodded as Lizzie pulled the kettle from the heat. “They listen to me,” she offered. “Well, sometimes…”

Lizzie nodded, noting that the girl was still skittish, unsure of the woman and the tension of the power differential that thrummed between them. Lizzie knew exactly where it came from. She had seen the look pass between the twins as John had put Finn out the back door—the uncertainty, the fear.

“Just so you know, I didn’t…I didn’t tell your brother what I saw the other day. I won’t tell—”

The kitchen door swung open before Lizzie could say anything more. Robbie launched himself into Clara’s arms, shouting out her name as he latched onto her. Clara knew that was the end of their silence, the end of Lizzie’s quiet assurances. The others would be up soon and there would be no more talk of secrets, no more time for worries about her and Finn being found out. That normally might have troubled Clara, but it seemed that bit of her worry was unwarranted, so long as Lizzie Stark kept her word, anyway.

Clara squeezed her nephew tight for a moment, realizing as she held him that he’d grown a bit. She hadn’t seen Robbie in some time—far too long considering they lived just down the lane, but Clara had been staying close to home, caught up in her own troubles.

“Did you say hello to Miss Stark?” Clara whispered as the boy loosened his hold, looking about the kitchen.

Robbie buried his face back against Clara’s dress without an answer.

“Oh, it’s just Lizzie,” Lizzie answered, stealing a glance at the two children.

Clara tried to shift her nephew around, tugging him from his spot, but he held his positioning.

“Are you hungry, Robbie?”

“Robert,” the boy quickly corrected, pulling himself from Clara’s side. “Robbie’s a baby’s name.”

“Robert it is, then,” Lizzie amended. “A very strong name. Would you like some breakfast, Mr. Robert Shelby?”

The boy nodded, a sly smile creeping onto his face at being called a mister, at being taken seriously by an adult.

“Maybe you’d like to help?” Lizzie suggested, reaching out for one of the kitchen chairs and pulling it over to the counter.

Robbie glanced toward his aunt as if asking permission. Clara nodded, guiding him forward with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Clara left the kitchen to go check on the other three and Robbie was already giggling as he and Lizzie leaned over the eggs, something very sweet and almost conspiratorial there in the way their heads bent toward one another, the whispers passing between them quiet enough that Clara couldn’t hear a word that was being said.

The moment had her thinking suddenly of Martha. Clara had always held a certain love for her sister-in-law, but she didn’t remember many playful moments where Martha was concerned. Her brother’s wife had been a smart and swift sort of woman. She had been a carer in all the most efficient ways. John had never had to lift a finger in the home while Martha was alive. Clara remembered her laughing and smiling when she was very young, being playful with her, but that was before the war…back when Clara was very young, the memories fragmented by time.

The Martha that Clara remembered best was the woman who’d raised four kids alone during a war, the woman who’d grown sick while she was still raising them alone. Clara remembered that woman as one who tolerated very little nonsense. Polly had once told Clara that doing it alone could change the type of mother you planned to be and Clara had to believe it was true. Martha had always been caring and efficient and kind, but there was a certain strictness in her during the war that didn’t seem to really be part of her—something foreign or imposed on her, incongruent with the core of her. Martha hadn’t had the time or energy for something like allowing the kids to help with breakfast.

She certainly hadn’t been baking cookies for the kids as a special treat…

Clara wondered what Martha would think of the way John let them run wild now…letting them live without structure, letting them lead things a bit. Clara didn’t imagine she’d like it, but Clara thought maybe she might understand.

As Clara came up the stairs, the door to Robbie and Joe’s bedroom was wide open, the room beyond empty aside from a bed with messy covers, so she proceeded to the girls’ room. The door was ajar, only just, and it was quiet—a quiet Clara wasn’t used to in her brother’s house, not when her nieces and nephews were awake, at least.

As she reached the door, Clara could discern that quiet was only made possible because the kids were whispering—Katie, Sarah, and Joe all speaking over each other though little more than an indiscernible hum reached Clara’s ears as she pushed the door open.

“Lizzie and Robbie are making—”

The kids all jumped apart, startled by Clara’s sudden presence there. Clara recognized something in the air—a familiar tension tingling in her limbs—the tension of being caught doing something wrong, a bit of fear and defensiveness and secretiveness pushing and pulling in the space between them. Clara had experienced enough times to know. She was close enough in age to John’s kids that she and Finn were more used to being a part of it rather than being the one to set the tension into the air. Clara, Finn, and John’s kids all usually played together as something close to peers. John’s kids recognized Clara and Finn as having some slight, nearly insignificant bit of authority over them. They knew Clara and Finn were their aunt and uncle, but most often it didn’t matter.

They played and got up to trouble together. There weren’t many secrets between them.

“What are you doing?” Clara asked.

“Nothing,” Joe answered, the word coming out so quickly that Clara imagined that it would’ve been the answer regardless of the question. He’d stepped in front of the girls and shot a glance back at Katie now.

“Your dad said you have to be good for Lizzie today. Better not be—”

“We’re not doing nothing,” Joe interrupted.

“Just talking,” Sarah added, her tone a bit softer than her brother.

“What’s for breakfast?” Katie stepped around her brother, coming to stand by Clara at the door. “I’m starved.”

“C’mon, Katie,” Joe said as he moved across the room, pulling on Katie’s hand and taking her from the room.

When Clara turned back to the room, she watched as Sarah busied herself with pulling up the covers of her bed before moving on to the girls’ toys scattered across the floor, making the room a bit neater as she went. The girl was dallying. Sarah was usually quieter than the others—more sensible, Clara thought, more like their mother. And Clara thought of her differently than the others…thought now that they were alone, Sarah might say something more, but the girl stayed quiet and on the other side of the room.

“Are you coming?” Clara asked.

Sarah dropped the toys she was considering and nodded, passing by Clara without a word. As Sarah made her way down the stairs, Clara’s eyes swept over the room searching for some indication that the kids had been doing something more than just talking, but nothing was odd or out of place.

Clara was tempted to keep looking, but then she remembered that her being upstairs left Lizzie alone with the lot of them, a situation she didn’t imagine yielding anything positive.

The kids were yelling as Clara came down the stairs, their voices carrying over each other and conglomerating into one big indiscernible sound, just as their whispers had done upstairs just moments before.

Sarah and Joe were arguing over setting the table of all things and Clara’s voice got quickly lost among all the shouting while her niece and nephew tugged a stack of plates back and forth between them.

Clara made to step forward and separate them, difficult as it would be considering it was the two oldest ones fighting, but Lizzie beat her to it, grabbing the plates and setting them aside before pulling the two kids apart.

“Dad said no fighting,” Robbie said, still standing on the chair by the stove, watching over the food.

“Shut up, Robbie ,” Joe answered. “Quit being a baby.”

Sarah reached out and smacked her brother upside the head, an attack that he quickly returned, but it didn’t matter that they were fighting because the damage was already done, with Robbie’s tears already clear by the time he hopped off the chair and ran out of the room.

“I’ll see to him,” Sarah offered, but Lizzie shook her head.

“You three sit and eat,” she said. “And I hope not to hear a sound other than the sound of forks against plates.”

Joe laughed. “Or what?”

Lizzie’s mouth opened and closed, and Clara sensed she hadn’t been anticipating having to give such an answer. Lizzie had figured her sharp tone would've been enough, that the kids wouldn't be bold enough to argue.

“Or Aunt Polly’ll hear about it,” Clara answered as she took the stack of plates. “And if Aunt Polly hears about it, then—”

“Stop fighting! The eggs are getting cold!” Katie interrupted, already in her spot at the table, leaning across the space in front of her to scoop food into her mouth straight from the pan with her fork.

“You’ve got this?” Lizzie asked, waiting only for Clara’s nod before exiting the now silent room.

Clara was surprised that the threat of Aunt Polly was enough to bring John’s kids to behave themselves, but they all sat nearly silent at the table for the short minutes during which Lizzie was off with Robbie. None of the kids said anything when their younger brother came back into the room, his eyes still a bit red as he hopped up into his chair.

“Eat up,” Lizzie said, when she realized all except Katie and Robbie were simply pushing their food around their plates. Clara and Sarah were studying Robbie for their own reasons. Joe was glaring daggers at Lizzie, defying the woman though he was starved. “We’ve got loads to do for today.”

“Like what?” Sarah asked.

“It’s a surprise,” Robbie answered between bites, a conspiratorial grin shot towards Lizzie.

“Oh! I want to know! I want to know!” Katie answered as she shifted out of her seat and moved to Lizzie’s side, giggling when Lizzie leaned down and whispered in the little girl’s ear.

“And what about you three?” Lizzie asked, looking at Sarah, Joe, and Clara. Would you like to—"

“No, Lizzie!” Robbie answered. “It's a surprise."

“What do you think, Katie?” Lizzie asked, the conspiracy quickly growing to include Katie.

“Surprise,” she agreed, sliding back into her chair to resume eating her eggs, rather pleased with herself that she and Robbie and Lizzie were sharing a secret and for once, and that the two youngest had the upper hand. It was so rare that the two of them knew anything before their older brother and sister, or their aunt.

Clara didn't say anything though she didn't love being on the other end of a secret or being lumped in with the kids, especially not when Clara was meant to be helping Lizzie. Clara didn't like not knowing, but some nagging part of her said she could trust Lizzie, both with this and with hers and Finn's secret. And anyway, Katie and Robbie's smiles put her at ease. Surely, if those two were happy about it, Lizzie's plan for the day couldn't be too bad.

As Lizzie slid into the last seat at the table, the one just beside Robbie, Clara took a sip of her tea. Joseph was watching Lizzie, watching as she sat there smiling at Katie and Robbie, watching as she brought a piece of bread to her mouth.

"That was my mum's seat," Joseph said as he continued to stare at her.

Clara nearly choked on the hot liquid in her mouth. Lizzie's face colored at the boy's words, her cheeks full as she stopped chewing. Silence held over the table as each of them considered what the boy was saying...the meaning there between the lines.

Lizzie Stark was in his mum's seat, but Lizzie wasn't his mum...and Joseph Shelby didn't want her to be.

—

Chapter 33

Little Lady Blinder Masterlist

Please take a moment to tell me what y'all think! Reviews and comments are always appreciated. 😌❤️

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #john shelby #lizzie stark #finn shelby #john shelby's kids #clara shelby #little lady blinder #shelby!sister #shelby sister

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livesincerely · 9 months

Text

take a shot (but how’s your aim?) ch. 8 - interlude: recalibrating

Also on Ao3. Chapter seven here.

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“And you’re sure you’re okay with this?” Jack asks for what feels like the hundredth time, the shadows cast by the setting sun emphasizing the worried furrow between his brows. “You jus’ say the word and I’ll tell Racer to kick rocks—“

“Jack,” Maggie sighs, stopping him before he can get worked up again. “It’s fine. I’m sure it’ll all be fine.”

As if sensing her nerves, Jack wraps a protective arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer as they continue making their way downtown. “If he tries anything stupid, if he steps a toe outta line, I swear I’ll—“

“You said he wanted to apologize,” Maggie reminds him.

“That's what he said,” he confirms with a frown.

“Then I’m sure it will be fine,” Maggie says, trying for optimism despite the flutter in her stomach. “Where did you say that we’re meeting him?”

“You know Irving Hall?” Jack asks. “Ms. Medda, the lady that owns it, lets me use it sometimes. Figured it was a little more private than Jacobi’s or the Square. She said it’s fine as long as we’re out by 8.” A sudden scowl. “Racer better not be late or I’m gonna—“

“Can we talk about something else, please?” Maggie blurts, and Jack falls abruptly silent. “How was your day?”

Jack’s eyes turn stormy. “It was fine.”

“Have things gotten any better?” she presses tentatively. “Or are they still giving you a hard time?”

An unhappy shrug. “Could've been better. Could’ve been worse.”

“Well, maybe this is a sign that things are starting to improve,” she suggests. “At least one of your friends is making an effort to fix things, right?”

“Yeah,” Jack mutters. He doesn’t look the least bit convinced, which doesn’t exactly instill her with confidence. “Right.”

All too soon, they arrive outside the theater. Maggie can’t help another swell of anxiety, smoothing her hands over the pleats of her skirt.

Jack’s keen gaze catches her fidgeting: his expression softens and he lets out a long breath, a warm hand landing high on her back.

“Hey,” he says gently. “It’s all gonna be okay. I know he ain’t made a great first impression—god knows he deserves a few smacks upside the head—but Racetrack ain’t a bad sort. Me an’ him… we’re havin’ our own issues that ain’t got nothin’ ta do wit’cha.”

“You keep saying that,” Maggie notices. “And I know I shouldn’t care so much about what one person thinks of me, but he’s one of your closest friends, Jack. One of your brothers. I don’t want him to hate me.”

“Racetrack don’t hate you,” Jack says, and on this point, at least, he seems sure. “He ain’t hardly even met you. Don’t let him make ya nervous.”

“I just don’t know what to expect,” Maggie admits. “I only really know him through what you’ve told me, and you’ve been so angry with him—“

“Like I said, we got our own issues to sort out,” Jack assures her wryly. “I’m mad at him, he’s pissed at me, an’ that ain’t lookin’ like it’s gonna change any time soon. But, even when he’s bein’ a—pardon my French—a complete asshole, Racer ain’t never been mean. You shouldn’t’ve gotten dragged into the middle of our shit: I know it, an’ he knows it too. It’s all gonna be fine.”

Maggie takes a steadying breath. “It’s all going to be fine,” she repeats.

“Atta girl,” Jack says, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Chin up, ya hear? And, hey, if things end up goin’ south, I’ll shave off his eyebrows while he sleeps,” he offers, a spark of humor tugging at the corner of his mouth. “So you can keep that in your back pocket, too.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she says, returning his grin with a smile of her own.

“We can head inside while we wait for him,” Jack says, inclining his head towards the theater. “It’s jus’ in here.”

He reaches for the handle of an unobtrusive metal door, but right as he opens it he walks into the path of someone coming through from the other side. There’s a kerfuffle of fumbling footsteps and flailing limbs, then they both reach out to steady the other as one.

“Dave!” Jack exclaims, eyes wide.

“Jack!” the other person says, just as surprised. It takes Maggie a moment to place him: it’s David—Jack’s David—the one he’s been so worried about recently.

The two of them stand there, staring at each other, locked in their pseudo-embrace, for a moment longer. Then all at once they surge apart.

“What are you doing here?” Jack asks, and the change that’s come over him is as all-encompassing as the break of dawn. It’s not the frustration from earlier, or even the easy comfort of just beforehand; his attention catches and flares like fresh kindling, intensely focused and flame-bright. “I ain’t seen ya all day.”

David hoists his bag higher on his shoulder, shuffling another step backwards. He seems far less enthused at seeing Jack than Jack does at seeing him. “Oh, well, you know,” he murmurs. “Just needed a place to think.”

His gaze lands on Maggie and his expression seems to stick for a moment, like a rusted crank that won’t quite turn smoothly. When he smiles at her, his eyes are weary.

“Oh,” he says softly. “Hi, Maggie. Sorry, I didn’t see you there at first. How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you,” Maggie answers, not quite sure what to make of him. Even without the familiarity Jack has with him, she can tell at a glance that he’s not at his best: there’s a heaviness in his posture, a dullness to his pallor that speaks of several sleepless nights, and the haphazard way his curly hair falls over his forehead reminds her of her own hair when she’s at her most frazzled. “How are you, David? Or do you prefer Davey?

He winces, mouth curling into a grimace.

“Oh, David’s fine,” he says. “And I’ve been good, thank you.”

Jack gives a pointed scoff, the noise unexpectedly harsh amongst the polite small talk. David’s frown deepens almost imperceptibly and Maggie can feel something similar settling across her own features, her eyes darting back and forth between them.

“Jack mentioned you’d been under some stress, recently,” she says carefully, trying to navigate the obvious tension that’s fallen over their odd little trio. “I hope things start to take a turn for the better soon, if they haven’t already.”

David’s expression turns even more brittle around the edges. “That’s kind of you to say,” he responds after a moment. “But I’ll be fine, regardless.”

He glances between her and Jack in much the same way that she’d been considering the two of them. He seems to come to some sort of conclusion—fresh understanding swells over him like a crashing tide.

“Ah,” he says simply. “I won’t hold you up any longer. Have a nice evening.”

“Whoa, hey! What’s the rush?” Jack asks, lurching forward on unsteady feet, a hint of panic behind his eyes. “You don’t gotta run off.”

“I need to get home,” David says, a touch curtly. “And I’m sure the two of you have plans you’d like to get back to.”

“But, Dave—“

“But, what, Jack?”

Jack’s mouth works soundlessly for a moment, hurt bleeding across his features like an open wound. David doesn’t meet his eyes, staring past him towards the main road, his shoulders hunched like he’s bracing for an argument.

Maggie’s wondering exactly how to de-escalate the situation, what, exactly, she’s de-escalating, and if she even can, when a voice from behind her drawls, “Well, ain’t this a party.”

“Race,” David says, relief evident in every inch of his body.

“Racetrack,” Jack acknowledges much more cooly.

“Jack,” the boy, Racetrack, greets. “Maggie,” he continues, tipping his cap in her direction.

“What are you doin’ here?” He asks David, giving him a scrutinizing once over. Maggie’s not sure what he sees, but his stare turns to Jack for a brief, accusing second, and he steps closer to David’s side, as if to put a barrier between them. Judging by the way Jack’s expression sours, he’s noticed the same. “You don’t gotta be here for this.”

“I was just leaving,” David says quickly, then seems to process Racetrack’s words. “What do you mean…?” His eyes flit from Racetrack to Jack to Maggie in short succession. “Oh. Then I should definitely get out of your way. It was nice speaking with you, Maggie.”

“Wait,” Jack interjects before he can make his exit, and there’s a depth of feeling in his voice that makes her heart lurch in her chest. “Will I… I’ll see ya in the morning?”

David hesitates, then gives a brisk nod. He gives Jack a wide berth as he walks away, but one of his arms trails behind him as he goes—like he doesn’t know what to do with the empty space at his side, even as he creates it.

Jack’s stares after his retreating form for several long seconds, his hands curling into fists that he shoves roughly into his pockets. Racetrack lets out a long exhale, almost a sigh, as it all plays out. Maggie turns towards him automatically at the sound, and their eyes lock behind Jack’s back.

Racetrack’s gaze is piercing but not unkind: a little exasperated, a little rueful, and far too knowing. Biting her lip, Maggie looks away.

“Jack,” Racetrack eventually calls out, and Jack startles at the sound, clearly lost in his own thoughts. “Maybe we should, uh… get back to business?”

Jack is not ready to get back to business. “He looks like hell, Race. I thought you were lookin’ out for him?”

“I am lookin’ out for him,” Racetrack defends, in the sandpaper tones of someone who’s very tired of repeating themselves. “I ain’t a miracle worker, cowboy.”

“Yeah, tell me somethin’ I don’t know,'' Jack retorts, and Maggie’s always known him to be the protective sort, but the feeling seems to hone the edge of his words particularly sharply in this instance. “He looks like he’s ‘bout ta keel over any second!”

Racetrack bristles visibly at his tone, but to her surprise, he doesn’t lash back.

“Jack,” he says instead, sounding like he’s reaching for the deepest reserves of his patience, and it occurs to Maggie that they’ve already had this argument—several times over, it seems. “I ain’t here to hash it out with you over Davey.”

Jack stares at him, uncomprehending. Maggie shifts her weight, feeling increasingly out of place, and some part of her almost wants to laugh at the irony of the situation, given that they are, ostensibly, only here on her behalf. The motion draws Jack’s attention and his eyes snap to hers, remembering her presence. The fight seeps out of him like a candle that’s been snuffed out.

“Right,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “We should, uh… head inside, I guess.”

“Actually,” Racetrack says, holding up a hand. “Maybe you could give me and Miss Margaret some privacy for this one?”

“Uh huh,” Jack huffs, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “How ‘bout, no.”

“It’s okay, Jack,” Maggie interrupts before they can continue squabbling. She finds herself suddenly exhausted with this whole ordeal, more than ready to get things over and done with. “I don’t mind.”

Jack studies her expression. “You sure?”

She gives him a tight smile. Of all the things she’s unsure about in this moment, this is perhaps the least of them. “I’m sure.”

“I’ll be right outside,” he says.

Racetrack holds the door to the theater open for her, which gives her a second to collect her thoughts. The inside of the building is larger than she expected—unfinished brick walls and high, vaulted ceilings—and almost entirely empty, save for a few tall, rectangular structures covered in drop cloths leaning up against the far side of the room. Maybe set pieces, she wonders idly, but she’s not familiar enough with the workings of a theater to do much more than guess.

Racetrack seems a touch more familiar with the space—he knows where to find the cord for the overhead lights, at least—but his eyes are just as curious as her own as he takes in the covered pieces.

However, he doesn’t give them much more than a passing glance: he rolls his shoulders back and turns to face her, solemn and determined.

“I’m sure Jack told ya already,” he says, sweeping his flat cap off his head and tucking it into the waist of his pants, “but I asked to meet wit’cha because I wanted ta say sorry for bein’ so rude to ya, when Jack first introduced ya to everyone. I don’t got a good reason for why—they’s all jus’ excuses, if I’m bein’ honest, an’ it’s not even really my story ta share—but even if I had the best reason in the world, I’d still owe you an apology. Because you didn’t even do anythin’ wrong, I was jus’ bein’ nasty to ya ‘cause you were there to be nasty to. An’ that ain’t right. So, I’m real sorry ‘bout it.”

Maggie blinks, overwhelmed by the barrage.

“That’s it.” Racetrack tacks on awkwardly, something undeniably nervous creeping into his posture. “Uh, I can try sayin’ it again if I went too fast the first time, Albie’s always tellin’ me ta slow down—“

“No, you don’t have to—“ Maggie takes a breath, some of her own nerves fading away in the face of his own. She offers him a small, but honest smile. “I accept your apology.”

“You don’t gotta,” he tells her seriously. “I was an ass—sorry, ‘cuse me—a jerk, an’ it’s okay if you’re still mad. You prob’ly should be, I’d deserve it.”

“I’m not mad,” Maggie tells him. “I never was. Jack already explained that you were upset about something else, I was just… there. But I do appreciate you apologizing.”

Racetrack stares at her.

“…I kinda feel like you’re letting me off the hook too easy,” he says, looking perplexed. “You sure you ain’t mad? Nothin’ I can do ta make it up to ya?”

“Well, there is, maybe, one thing,” Maggie says. “I don’t mean to insert myself, but whatever’s going on between you and Jack and…” She pauses. “…and David, can you please try to fix it?”

Racetrack’s expression turns blank.

Hurriedly, she continues, “Not that I’m saying it’s your fault, or anyone’s fault in particular, or even that it’s up to you to fix it. But whatever it is that’s wrong, Jack’s been really, really bothered by it. He’s been beating himself up over not being able to help, over making things worse and being useless, so maybe you could… reach out? Extend an olive branch? Call a truce? Anything that’ll start to patch things back up between you all.”

“…Not askin’ for much, are ya?” Racetrack mutters under his breath, reaching up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “I… Listen. I’ll be honest, things are… complicated, to say the least. I’m not even sure if things can be fixed—at least, not in the way that Jack thinks they can be fixed. There’s a lot of hurt goin’ around, an’ most of it ain’t even mine. So, I can’t promise nothin’. But I guess… I could stand to let up on him some,” he agrees with a sigh. Then, nonsensically, he adds, “It ain’t his fault, really, even though absolutely it is.”

“Thank you,” Maggie says, deciding not to probe further. “I know it’s probably none of my business.”

Racetrack snorts.

“You’re the last person that should be thanking me,” he says, with a grim sort of smile. “But I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all I ask.”

Racetrack leans back on his heels, his gaze making its way around the room again, and his eyes land on one of the tarped-over pieces.

“Beatin’ himself up, you said?” he wonders, stepping closer to it. He lifts hand as if to uncover it, but he only reaches for a corner of the sheet, twisting it around between his fingers. “I shoulda figured.”

“What do you mean?” Maggie asks, not following.

“You know,” Racetrack says, unhelpfully. “Jack and his paintings.”

“His… paintings?”

“All these?” Race says, gesturing around, looking a little confused that he has to explain. “These are all Jack’s. He paints the backdrops for the shows here.”

“Jack paints?” Maggie asks, surprised.

“You didn’t know?” Race questions. “Yeah, he’s into all kinds of artsy stuff—drawing, painting—and he’s real good at it.”

“I knew he could draw,” Maggie says, feeling the strange need to defend her limited knowledge. “I mean, I've seen his comics in the paper. That’s how we met.”

Racetrack waves a dismissive hand. “No, yeah, he does the weekly comic ‘cause it’s good money and ‘cause he likes ta rub Joe’s nose innit, but he’d paint for Medda for free, jus’ ‘cause he loves it so much. Oh, don’t worry, Ms. Medda’s a good lady, she keeps things square, don’t take advantage or nothin’,” Racetrack hurries to assure her, misreading the expression that’s settled across her face. “I jus’ meant, this is the kind art he really loves.”

“He’s never mentioned,” Maggie murmurs, taking in the assortment of covered canvases with new eyes. “I had no idea.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Jack,” Racetrack says, rolling his eyes. “He and Ms. Medda got some kinda deal—she gives him the supplies and the space to work and he gets to use whatever ain’t needed for the theater for his own projects. Judgin’ by all the stuff that’s lyin’ around, he’s been at it a lot, recently. Says it helps him think. Don’t take it personal, he gets kind weird about it. None of even knew about it until after the strike an’ he don’t hardly show ‘em to anybody except—“ he coughs, fumbling for words, then continues, “—uh, except when, uh, Ms. Medda wants to check on his progress. For the shows, I mean.”

But that wasn’t what he was going to say. And they both know it.

“Oh,” Maggie says softly. And to think that she’d been so nervous about this meeting in the days leading up to it. How silly she’d been. “I see.”

“Aw, hell,” Racetrack groans. “I didn’t— I wasn’t gonna say anythin’. Really, I wasn’t! But…” He gives a helpless sort of shrug. “You saw ‘em yourself. You saw how they were. You don’t even need’ta say anythin’.”

Maggie closes her eyes.

“…No,” she agrees after a moment. “I suppose you don’t.”

“Please don’t tell him,” Racetrack begs. “Jack, I mean. He doesn’t know, and he’s definitely not gonna take it well if you storm outside and tell him.”

Then it’s Maggie’s turn to stare.

“What do you mean, he doesn’t know?” she demands, hands on her hips. “How on Earth can he not know?”

Racetrack winces. “He… hasn’t noticed, yet.”

Maggie takes a deep breath. Then she takes another, deeper breath.

“So, he hasn’t been stringing me along maliciously, is what you’re saying?”

“No!” Racetrack assures her, and it sounds like the truth even though it looks like he’d rather be literally anywhere else but here, explaining this to her. Maggie feels about the same. “No, I think he really does care about’cha. It’s jus’ that…”

“He cares about him, more,” she finishes for him.

“Yeah,” Racetrack says. Then, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Maggie sighs. “So, the two of them…?”

“Yes and no.”

“Well, is it yes or is it no?”

“It’s complicated,” Racetrack says. “Ta be honest with ya, you’ve been most of the complication.”

Okay then.

“That’s certainly one way of putting it,” she says faintly. “God, what a mess.”

“Tell me about it,” Racetrack mutters, and they share a weary, companionable look.

“I won’t tell him,” Maggie finally decides. “Not tonight, anyway. I need some time to figure out what I want to say, how best to end things… I cannot believe I’m going to have to break it to my own boyfriend that he’s in love with someone else.”

“…Sorry,” Racetrack offers once again. He does not, Maggie notices, offer to help, but given how the two of them have been fighting—why they’ve been fighting—she really can’t blame him. “But, uh… what are you gonna do in the meantime?”

There are a lot of ways she could answer: flippant, hysterical, furious, despondent.

She thinks of the kiss Jack pressed to her hairline, of the way his hands settle over her shoulders or high on her back but never around her waist, of how she’d been the one to ask him out all those weeks ago.

Then she thinks of the dark blue yarn she’d picked up the other day, the fingerless gloves that are nearly finished, just waiting for her to pick up her knitting needles when she gets home.

She smiles sadly, and her response is more honest than she’d intended, though perhaps not as straightforward as he’d like. It’s all she can muster up at this point. “Seems I’ve got some stitches that’ll need to be ripped out.”

00000

Special shout out to @the-broadsword-and-the-book , @livininmyhead , @claireverlasting and @sapphosboy for beta/test reading part of this chapter for me! I so, so appreciate your help with this 🙌🏼

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midnightkolrath · 4 months

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Oh boy, its thinking time again.

Though this time, I'm thinking about Mainline Dante and the "Black Sheep" for most fans, DmC Dante. Personally, I don't mind him and he grew on me in some cases. As much of a mess DmC is, playing through it recently after several years....I've seen crumbs of what could've been better than what we were given.

Of course, there's other things about the game that fairly rubs off on hardcore fans and I'm not gonna excuse the bad parts...[ahem] but there's things I like. The world building, parts of the lore....what they were trying to do with Dante as a character in the world setting...alas, I'll probably go on a talk about that stuff another time.

On topic of what I was going to talk about though. I was thinking back on the common reception of DmC and the fanarts of Main Dante beating the shit out of DmC Dante and I got to thinking...what if they actually DID meet each other? Would they respond similarly to these fan vent interpretations accordingly to their characters?

The answer, I think, would be a yes.

Not in the violent and aggressive "I hate you immediately" way, though. For this, I'm going to use DMC5 Dante for Main Dante, for the sake of how I've proccessed this inner question for myself.

For those who've played DmC and know of that Dante (and have paid attention to the story despite the icks), we know he's a fighter. He's been raised in the world that way due to his tragic and shitty upbringing. Same with him having anger issues amongst other things. He shares the impulsive nature Dante used to have back in Pre-DMC1 and DMC3, but cranked up abit.

He'd likely see Main Dante and purposely try to start shit cause he is a little shit like that. He's a teenager who's been through so much shit that he does not meld with people at all at first. He hates authority, is full of spite...yeeeeah....

I think Main Dante would entertain him and be willing to throw down with him because hell, man also loves a good fight and knowing this kid is another version of him? He'd be all over that to see just what the kid's made of.

Though I'd take this fight as Main Dante also trying to help the kid let off some steam, similar to how he handled Nero back in DMC4 when he was steamed and keen to rescue Kyrie and helped him regain a cool head before continuing on his quest.

The big difference between Nero and DmC Dante though, is that DmC Dante has even BIGGER anger issues. He's more violent. More spiteful. Fueled by how much worse he had it growing up. Had to watch his mother's heart get ripped out by Mundus, got seperated from his twin brother and had his memory sealed away....then he also had to deal with being in an orphanage ran by demons, in several foster homes and correction facilities (also, no surprise, ran by demons) so he went through alot of abuse growing up. Its how he knows the usual procedure of being detained and tries to give Kat advice as she's being arrested later on in the game.

He spent his entire life basically having to fight for it with no other choice.

As much of an edgy mess DmC is, it had so much messed up backstory for Dante himself...like aside from all the painfully forced edge of the setting most of the time....I can appreciate what they've molded in the cracks for the setting. Its fucked because the world he's in is fucked.

Anyway. Main Dante would probably let him get so much venting out through fighting, maybe try and try and help him work out his issues. Especially if this is seasoned DMC5 Dante. He's done it with Nero, he would do it again. It'd take alot and I mean ALOT of time I'd feel and I think Main Dante would even snap at DmC Dante over a few things, buuuut....I also feel like it'd eventually simmer down to a mutual understanding. Hell, Main Dante would likely see abit of his Pre-DMC1 and DMC3 selves in him. Kid's just abit more messed up and would need things drilled in more, but it IS stated that DmC Dante has a big heart buried beneath all that he displays. Hell, he shows it a few times in the game. He has a few moments.

I won't try and change minds on how people see him because I know DmC is a touchy subject for most hardcore fans and I get it, but you know. Personally, with it being an alternate reality at this point now that's still recognized by Capcom officially, I see it as harmless nowadays. We got mainline DMC swinging back, so its pretty much just there, haha.

I won't go into powerscaling (because that's a whole other beast of a rabbit hole I don't wanna poke into yet, even if I do think our Mainline Dante would win...the details of it will be thoughts for another time), but considering the circumstances of their characters and how situational it may be.....its just a thought. I dunno, the braincells just decided to think about this topic tonight, lmao.

#devil may cry #dmc devil may cry #leo's DMC analysis #dmc #YUP I'm talking abit about DmC Devil May Cry tonight for once #pardon if I repeat a few times and stumble abit I'm running on low sleep and sickness atm #Might talk more about DmC devil may cry one day but here have some crumbs of thoughts

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kandyrezi · 1 year

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I saw your Grey Garden Main Characters Becoming Yandere Post and thought it was great! Can we have one for the Pocket Mirror Girls?

Prompt: 'Pocket Mirror' girls realizing they're yandere, with possibly them trying not to act on said feelings of obsessiveness/jealousy.

(a/n: thank you for requesting, i really enjoyed writing it! ❤)

(can be seen as either platonic or romantic.)

⌜goldia.⌟

• Goldia lives in a mansion far away from any nearby towns. There isn't anyone else to spend time with aside from her dolls, but pretending like they're alive gets to her after a while. She doesn't like her brother. Father is always away. And mother spends all her time in that room, hardly ever leaving. But she comes across you, living in a small cottage with your family – a little bit of a walking distance from her home when she went to pick hydrangeas for mother.

• She almost becomes lost, but you help her find her way back—and the two of you become fast friends. She brings you to her home often after that encounter, and you stay over countless nights, playing games throughout the day in her room, drinking tea, reading together, and having sleepovers once the sun sets. You're one of the very few (if not the only person) who keeps her... erratic mood swings at bay, almost like a column keeping a temple afloat.

• For the most part, Goldia is good at keeping any yandere tendencies hidden within her true feelings—but that doesn't mean she doesn't feel them any less strongly than any of... the other girls. She becomes overbearingly clingy, using any excuse she can to be near you, and becomes noticeably upset if she senses any inkling of rejection from you.

• She even starts to neglect her studies when she would rather spend time with you. She knows it's unwise, but after a while she would eventually snap back into reality when you express concern for her well-being.

• She was so agreeable and nice when you first met her. She even volunteered to look after you when you sprained your ankle on accident until you got better. But that was then. Now you're saying she seems like a completely different... almost hurtful person at times? You told her you can't attend the ceremony where she'll be giving her speech that her family is hosting, and she nearly threw a temper tantrum over it. She's never shoved you, or insulted you either for being from a lower-class family, so why was she doing it now?

• If she doesn't mend her behavior, then perhaps it's best your paths be split from one another, you eventually tell her.

• Eventually Goldia promises herself to give her friend more breathing room, to avoid being so overbearing and unkind... maybe then they can go back to what their friendship was like before...

• But it would all be for naught, on one day, when you end up disappearing without so much as a word or a trail. The more time passes, the more she feels only anger boiling, and takes it out on whoever is unfortunate enough—like her brother, Henri, or one of her tutors. Were you angry with her? She doesn't know. She becomes obsessive over you only after you're gone, idealizing the delusion you could've been happy together and comforted her when her family eventually is torn apart and stolen by that ancient demon, before she's also taken away to be locked behind four luminescent walls.

⌜harpae.⌟

• Harpae behaves as any good, proper friend should to you; listening to your troubles, spending time together in the lounge drinking chamomile tea, discussing academic writings, and so on... nothing seems to be wrong... on a surface level. Harpae reasons to herself you're completely capable of handling yourself, yet she secretly hopes you think of her as reliable, that you'll come to her if you need any aid, emotional comfort, or words of advice.

• She wants you to rely on her, and eventually her facade crumbles underneath her inferiority complex. She dodges any questions you have about her acting strange, possibly even becoming annoyed if you keep on persisting something is amiss, or think she might not be entirely truthful. It's improper behavior from a lady of her high-societal standing, but she hardly cares about that where it concerns feelings for her darling.

• She feels immeasurable (familial? sisterly? or another type of?) love in her heart towards you whenever she's needed. She is utterly in denial about behaving... unseemly towards you, and it would lean to her being a more of a delusional type of developing yandere for this reason.

• When she wants affirmation and acts on these feelings is when she lets you become injured on purpose. By... 'accidentally' letting you fall down a flight of stairs, then pretending you were just uncoordinated in your step, that the mansion is quite ancient and a mere loose board or a nail is what you stumbled over.

• She almost feels guilt for her actions, but those feelings quickly disappear when you thank her for the trouble of taking care of you with your sprained ankle. With a gentle smile, she would stroke your hair and promise to look after your whenever you need her to. (always. forever.)

⌜fleta.⌟

• Having been alone for so long – the princess with a smile sweet as sugar yet temper eruptive as lightning during a storm – Fleta is guaranteed to form an attachment if you withstood her mischief and antics, actually becoming her friend... well, more likely she 'claims' you as her friend. You don't have any say in it, really.

• Blinded by delusions and complete disregard for the feelings of others, she just does what she wants, however and whenever she wants. unlike the other girls, Fleta will not hold back on acting on any violent or obsessive impulses, intent on never letting you leave.

• She even lashes out at Egliette when told something she doesn't want to hear, and she will be pretty mean towards you if she doesn't get her way. Egliette can only placate her slightly, but the words of the doll queen will likely fall on deaf ears.

• If you express any doubt in her words about wanting to be your friend, after she insulted your clothing (referring them as 'rags') or saying you're terrible at playing games, she will deflect all of your questions, insisting she was just helping you out! If you thought that was already too much, she shows her true possessive side when you refuse her. She is royalty! You're just some commoner, a nobody! You're so bold as to reject her?

• She's offering you a place to stay with her forever and to be your friend... and you don't want it? Then she'll make you regret ever being ungrateful towards her and Egliette for the kindness they've both shown to someone so lowly as yourself.

⌜lisette.⌟

• For the maiden of horrors, any desires forming an unhealthy obsession mostly stems from loneliness. She may push you away at first, but when you don't see her as some circus freak to be locked away, but a sympathetic girl who desires for kindness and acceptance, something in her changes—for better, or... for worse.

• She's mostly on her lonesome, so when you do visit her frequently, and when you want to get to know the real her, the attachment she feels becomes imminent, inevitable. Because remembering the affection she didn't have during any of her lowest moments, and looking at you makes her want to hold and care for you. She is unlikely to act on any violent desires she might be hiding away, as such, doesn't really have a 'breaking point' either.

• Lisette would rather cut herself with her own scissors (she has both been at the receiving end of it by the hands of others, or done it to herself before as form of punishment—she's used to the pain.) than ever hurt you in any capacity. She knows the feeling of terror from being blamed and punished for every misdeed or wrongdoing. Lisette doesn't like the thought of seeing fear in your eyes. It reminds her too much of... a certain someone. (herself. her own wretched self.)

• That, however, doesn't mean she won't have the desire to hurt others. Probably not physically, but she might lash out at them out of rage. Goldia is the only one who's able to calm her down, if any of the other girls tried, she might see them as threats who would try to discreetly take her darling from her.

• Aside from Harpae, she's the only one who actually feels shame over any feelings of jealousy and possessiveness. She just wants to hold onto you, and never let go...

⌜enjel.⌟

• Enjel is not very good at keeping intense emotions under wraps, no matter how much she pretends otherwise. She will probably not hold back on any yandere desires she might have either. You don't know where you are. You're lost. Just like she is. You don't have anything useful she can take from you, so she's cold to you a first, only using you if she needs you to do something to aid her in her quest, like discreetly dropping that bobby-pin through the mirror, so Goldia has something to lock-pick herself out of the room she got locked in.

• Enjel as a 'person' has not existed for very long, so she is, at best, inexperienced, but at worst, naive to some things around her, despite the knowledge that has been bestowed upon her. This will inevitably, always, become her downfall in the end. (but she will realize this much too late.)

• You are the only individual she has had any close contact with (aside from that Strange Boy), so while it takes some time, she would eventually warm up to you, and without anything to gain from you, doesn't see you as a means to an end, rather someone whom she shares with a similar fate. Enjel contemplates between either leaving you stuck in the realm of the mindscape and just forgetting about you, or finding a way to bring you to the real world with her. Both choices are... a conundrum to try to solve.

• She told you to approach the brunette-haired girl with the pocket mirror and to gain her trust, so that the two... three of you can leave this miserable cycle of limbo. Her plan may have worked up to certain point... but she sees through life-sized mirrors, you're becoming too close with that girl for her liking.

("I may not be a part of you, but it feels like I've known you for longer than when I saw you in that orchestra room for the first time...")

• The jealousy is too much for her to bear. She only thought she didn't care about you, but her breaking point is seeing just how affectionate you and Goldia have become, like you had been friends for years in the past at one point. Enjel has nothing. Goldia had, and has everything in her life. And now she wants to take you from her as well?

• She doesn't care if you look at her differently because of it. She's doing it for herself, and for your own good. She only planned on taking her pocket mirror, but now she will probably end up killing Goldia with the scythe, not out of any planned tactics, but purely out of anger and envy. She threatens with killing you too, if you won't stop crying for the dead corpse laying on the glass mosaic floor instead of just listening to her. she has the mirror, the two of you (blind, naive fool. you were never going to leave together) can finally leave this cursed place—

• It will all be for naught. Because she will have doomed you both. That much becomes clear when you hear the echoing laughter of the maleficent one-eyed demon.

. . .

a/n: expectation: a harem of yandere girls. reality: a tragic love triangle between the unstable MC, reader, and the jealous pinocchio girl.

haha... (／ˍ・、)

#yandere x reader #pocket mirror #female yandere #goldia die heilige #fleta (pocket mirror)#harpae (pocket mirror)#lisette (pocket mirror)#enjel (pocket mirror)#yandere #yandere headcanons #rpg maker horror #pocket mirror (game)#yandere scenarios #ficlets

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