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tteokdoroki · 7 months

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ೀ⋆OCT 3RD MEAN GIRLS ━━ katsuki bakugou + free use !

୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. katsuki bakugou + free use. on october third, he asked you what day it was. btw, in girl world, halloween is the only time of the year when katsuki bakugou can slut girls out and no one can say anything about it. boo, you whore! (4.9K)

୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, characters aged up to 20s, college!au, free use, dub-con, cum-play, voyeurism, humiliation, manipulation, dacryphilia, no prep, public sex(ish), unprotected sex, suprise guest appearance from shouto as aaron samuels, fem!reader, reigina george coded!bakugou.

୨୧ — director’s note. "it's october third." and you know what that means! another nasty kinktober fic for you all! i hope you enjoy this one, its probably my favourite...because uh hello!? reigina george and bakugou? name a more iconic duo! anyways enjoy mwah! - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧

halloween is the only time of the year where anyone can dress like a slut and not get called one for it.

in the world of the conventionally attractive (or the plastics), the kings and queens of the social jungle, it means ditching the guts and gore in favour of skin tight lingerie with a little fake blood that drips calculatedly through the valley between your breasts — just for a little bit of added attention. it’s the one night of the year where self-objectification becomes acceptable, and you by all means, were not planning on missing out.

for you, a well spent Halloween consisted of tooth rotting candy corn, bad movies and trying to avoid the feeling of fomo (fear of missing out, fyi) building up like fluid in the lungs of a sick person. you’ve been an a-grade loser all your life and you’ve never had the chance to experience a proper friend group, high school, (and now) college experience.

however this year would be different. this year you would be ditching loser-ville for boobs and bunny ears and the shortest dress you could find. because you finally had a friendship group who did these kinds of things and you had an invite to the biggest festive rager hosted by the hottest guy on campus — shouto todoroki.

the rest of your friend group, the college renowned plastics, had warned you not to get involved with the half and half campus jock. he already had relations to your beloved ring leader, katsuki bakugou, and your involvement would be breaking several laws of girl and guy code — according to dumb blonde kaminari (he swears he has ESPN or something). katsuki was the head of U.A. university, ruling over the entire student body with an iron fist, an attitude so mean you’re sure you’ve seen professors cry and a glare so sinister he could turn milk sour if he tried hard enough.

bakugou was the definition of the picture perfect guy and he knew it. it was almost as if his face had been ripped straight from a vogue magazine, his shoulders broad, waist slutty and tiny, abs to die for too — you’d be a liar to say you hadn’t thought about him a few times before bed. katsuki was a king bee (if bees could even have kings) and you were a nobody lucky enough to have been indoctrinated into his group of flawless friends — taken under the guidance of his wing.

your own friends had told you not to fall for the glitz and the glamour that seemed to follow the barbie blonde everywhere he went. but you couldn’t help it, you were enamoured by everything that katsuki did — turned a blind eye to his bitchy persona and twisted mindset. you hardly believed the rumours about him, blissfully ignoring the truth behind the gossip because katsuki was nice to you. just the other night he had been kind enough to offer his help in setting you up with shouto. even if kirishima had tattle told on you.

regardless, katsuki had your back — you knew that. he was even talking to shouto right now, admist the full swing of the halloween party. how could anyone ever hate bakugou? he was so kind, so considerate, treating you like family from the moment you got here. you see shouto look your way fondly as they chatter about you, his lips curling perfectly around your name while he sends you a wave that makes you feel like the only girl in the world.

“she likes you, yanno.” the shorter blonde purrs, the corner of his perfectly plump lips twitching up into a knowing grin. he says your name, glowering at the way his ex perks up at the mention.

shouto blinks slow, mismatched eyes filling with affection the longer he looks at you awkwardly swaying to music you’ve never heard before. “yeah? she does?”

“it’s adorable, really. she writes your fuckin’ name in the corner of her notes with little hearts. even has the name of your future brats written in a cute little list.” the lie slips from bakugou easily, as if manipulating people is second nature to him.

“don’t bother with that, katsuki.”

when todoroki’s gaze on you lingers for too long, he kicks it up a notch pressing the head of his body into his ex’s side. “listen, half ‘n half,” with his eyes dark and sensual, the blonde allows his voice to slip into deeper, more mocking tones — playing up this innocent act. one that shouto falls for every time. “i know that she can be a little fuckin’ weird but, she’s my friend…so be nice, yeah?”

men are such fickle creatures — for all it takes is a pair of sweltering, red puppy dog eyes to drag the jock under his spell. shouto nods slowly, his own topaz and granite eyes glossing over with some form of obedience, a loyalty to bakugou that no one else would understand. “yeah, alright.”

“good,” bakugou purrs, the sound causing his brain to short circuit. “such’a good friend, half ‘n half.” the tail end of his words are replaced by the sloppy sound effect of his lips on shouto’s, tongues beginning to clash and hands possessively gripping waists.

your rose-tinted window shatters at the sight.

background conversation falls away as your friend and your crush begin to make out right in front of your fucking eyes. “you know who’s looking fine tonight, neito monoma.” kaminari squeals, shimmying in his little mouse costume.

“denki, that’s your cousin.” kirishima frowns.

the blonde shrugs. “yeah! but he’s my first cousin…that’s not right is it,”

you don’t have time to dwell on their chit chat — you feel like someone has thrown your entire body out of whack. you feel like you’re drowning as the realisation hits, katsuki bakugou doesn’t give a shit about you or your feelings. storming away from the scene, you make for the nearest bedroom, hurt and confusion swirling around in the tightness of your chest.

“what are you doin’ in here sweetness? ‘minari and kirishima have been looking everywhere for ya.”

you’re still crying like a sore loser when the king of the plastics finds you hauled up in one of shouto’s many rooms. and you hate that it’s katsuki who’s come to comfort you, sitting beside you on the queen sized bed as his hand slips over your bare thigh.

but you shrug him off, barely keeping your cool. after all, you’re still mad at him for making out with your crush. “don’t touch me, katsuki.” you snarl, doing your best to sound menacing. “i saw what you did. how could you? i thought we were friends?”

he clicks his tongue, ruby red eyes rolling as if he gives a fuck. “oh, you mean that thing with icyhot?” you don’t understand how the blonde can be so nonchalant, tossing around the situation as if it weighs nothing — costing not an ounce of your feelings. “he came onto me, sweetness. i’d never do somethin’ like that to you.”

denying katsuki bakugou is never an easy feat, he’s a man that knows where his strengths lie. in the deep timber of his rumbling voice and those eyes, with the blood lust curled around each of his pupils. katsuki is a well trained hunter, and on this occasion, you are his prey. a large hand smooths over the meaty swell of your trembling thigh, pushing the likely pair wide open for him to make room between them. “i’m a good friend, r’member?”

his hands roam your blistering hot body, gripping and grabbing at your flesh from over your costume — it feels good, you feel wanted and melt like a lump of butter in a pan at every cascading touch of his.

you’d be smart to come to your senses, before you’re snapped up in the unrelenting jaws of a hunter. but you’re entranced by those insanely red eyes, the perfect slant to his lips and all-knowing smile — it’d be useless to escape when you’ve fallen this deep. “you’re not…” your bottom lip wobbles, the achy feeling in your chest now submissive to the liquid lust katsuki has spent months conditioning you to feel. “you’re a bad friend.”

“d’aw…you don’t think i am?” dropping his tone into a sultry coo, bakugou leans in real close and you instinctively follow the tilt of his head. he looms over you, just enough so that you can see the smear of pink eyeshadow across his eyelids, the plasticky glisten of lip gloss masking the true colour of his plump lips, along with the spark of lust swirling through the brown flecks in his eyes.

you shake your head no. “no, you’re not.” big mistake.

the of temperature of the room rises just from his proximity and you find yourself willing to let the king of the plastics swallow you whole. “i don’t think i like the way yer talkin’ to me, sweets.” he growls darkly and in warning. “i should make you apologise for bein’ so fuckin’ mean.”

his breath is warm and wet against your cheek, grip rough on your waist and you can’t help but think how mean he is to you. katsuki gaslights you like it’s second nature or another one of his five senses, manipulates you with ease, putting himself on you when you know you can’t say no. because without him you would have been in social suicide, you wouldn’t have any friends, you wouldn’t have had the college experience. you would have just been ordinary.

“gimme a kiss, gorgeous.” the blonde bites down on your lower tip, tugging it away from you because he misses the metallic taste of golden blood on you — the taste of blossoming obedience in your bloodstream.

you push back, but it’s no use — bakugou’s closing the gap before your brain can even catch up, fizzing like candied pop rocks while you sink further into debauchery.

“c’mon…” he forces his tongue past the seams of your lips, bursting through with only the darkest of intentions. you briefly seize up, because your body knows this isn’t what you want, at least not 100%. but katsuki knows how to work stubborn, prude little things like you — squeezing down on your waist heartily as he leads you into a stupid-drunk kiss. “that’s it, there we go…good fuckin’ girl.”

the world tilts on its axis and you grow lightheaded at the blonde’s praise — you should be mad at him for kissing your crush but at the same time, you’ve never wanted someone so bad. mewling against his watermelon and alcohol flavoured lips is like sealing your fate, giving up little pieces of yourself just to appease your ring leader.

“katsuki, i don’t—“

his thumb digs into your cheeks, preventing you from pulling away — not that you’d want to. wet sounds from your kisses vibrate through you and cause a twinge in the heartbeat between your thighs. “i wasn’t askin’, i was tellin’.” he grunts into your drooling mouth, wide open to echo your sweet and pliant voice. it’s with those words that you remember your place, being a plastic requires sacrifices — for you to give up pieces of yourself in order to stay by katsuki’s side.

including letting him use your mind, body and soul freely.

“so fuckin’ pretty when you’re obedient for me,” he’s snarls, hot under the collar and eager to steal more from you. he grins at how your eyes roll back just from a couple of half-hearted words. leaning back, katsuki shrugs off his shirt, revealing his perfectly carved hips and washboard abs, golden skin that only the gods could have blessed him with. the sight of him is enough to make your quivering cunt deep juices into the crotch of your panties. “let’s get back at sho, huh? for playin’ us both.”

the lines of morality and dissoluteness are often blurred when you’re with him — you become a vessel for his pleasure and you don’t even think to mind. somewhere amidst the messy, sensual lip locks bated breaths, katsuki has managed to get you onto your back and tear through your skimpy little halloween costume to suck his claim into your neck. painting you with deep mauve and midnight blue hues. his eyes dilate, roaring obsidian black taking over his mean, rage filled red eyes in a way that lets you know how bad he wants to fuck you.

it’s when the sharp edges of his canines graze your pulse point that you remember just how much of a wild jungle college is. you remember that katsuki has the ability to make your life a living hell, the power to take a bite and rip your throat out at any second. in this world, you are nothing but a meek gazelle and katsuki bakugou the lion ready for a feast.

irrespective of how much the very fact may frighten you, you ignore bakugou’s talons as they sink into your chest and leave indented crescent moons on against each breast. he rips apart the costume you worked so hard on and pushes your hands away from your body when you attempt to cover yourself up. so, from that moment, you let lust slither over your brain so you can arch yourself into him for more pleasure, and remind yourself that even if you're being used — it feels good. katsuki feels good.

you like that he’s a little mean, a mean girl. all teeth and tongue and biting when he licks into you and breaks the strings of honey saliva that tie your tongue to the roof of your mouth. you love how he roughly grabs you by the meat at your hips and tugs you up to meet the grind of his cock against your underwear. you adore how he pulls the very fabric apart like they’re nothing, rolling you onto your stomach and positioning your hips in a way that makes your back arch.

you don’t even realised that bakugou has kicked off the lower part of his costume until you feel the heat of his firm thighs against the backs of your own and the sticky tap of his flushed cockhead on your ass cheeks — smearing white globs of precum over your hot skin. the blonde groans at the visible twitch of your cunt, the way it glistens and spews lightly for him.

“oh sweetheart,” he laughs through the coagulated feeling of prurience in his throat. “so fuckin’ wet for me, hah?” he manages, spreading your ass cheeks apart hungrily, a curious finger running through your slick folds and dragging your wetness over your pulsating clit. “s’kinda embarrassing. barely even touched you.”

the situation is embarrassing, humiliating almost and a fresh set of tears burn at your waterline — mascaras already tracking down your cheeks. you don’t fight bakugou as a muscled arm snakes it’s way around your waist and pulls you onto him until your sex is flush against bakugou’s thick cock — your hearts beating in sync, heavy breathing in tune. his dripping dick slips and slides a through your quivering pussy lips, grinding against the pulse in your clit before easing the mushroomed tip through the tight ring at your entrance.

“f-fuck!” you squeak, a little out of turn. fuckdolls don’t talk. katsuki is quick to growl and remind you, collapsing his entire weight into your body while you take him with ease. no prep required whatsoever. there’s a delicious burn as his girth stretches you wide open and he fucks you with just the tip — a pleasing buzz layering itself over your logical thoughts. the ones that tell you this isn’t right. the ones that tell you that you’re more than just a plastic play thing.

bakugou squeezes your hips harshly when you push back onto him, desperate to be fed more of his cock. “keep fuckin’ still, alright?” the king of the plastics rasps, taunting you as he thrusts all the way into your tight heat with no warning. you ooze at the sudden stimulation, basking in the weight of his dick against the insides of your crying cunt and fluttering walls. “sho’s gonna love this, maybe he’ll really want you then.” he continues to purr, jamming a thumb past your swollen lips to press down on your tongue. his other hand grasps at his phone once lost in the sheets, talking a picture of your teary face while you suck on his digit to soothe yourself.

like a baby sucking on a pacifier as it cries.

sending the photo to shouto, bakugou takes a few more selfies of you like this. his favourite is the one of your face squished between his large fingers, covered in salty tears and sticky drool. “don’t cry sweets. ‘m gonna fix this, help you get together. what are friends for?”

his voice is soft, nose nudging against your cheek in a reassuring manner.

but it’s all too good to be true.

briefly, there’s a second where everything is calm, where the blonde lets you relax around him between gentle juts of his hips forward and affectionate kisses peppered against your skin. you should have realised that katsuki’s pleasure is always above your own. because he suddenly finds the motivation to pull out of your snug, sensual heat to pound into you properly, dragging is seedy cock along all of the spots along your ribbed walls that make you see stars.

you feel like a pocket pussy, only one that comes with crybaby wails and pitiful hiccuped noises. it’s all music to katsuki’s ears, blending seamlessly with the intense base from the party’s music and thump of the headboard smashing against the wall all from the sheer force of his thrusts into you. it’s easy to forget how humiliatingly loud you’re being, you can’t find yourself to be worried about someone catching you either. even if the door is wide open.

why not? because katsuki claims you willingly, over and over again with each brutish brush of his leaky cockhead against your g-spot. “s-suki! please.” you slur around his fingers that fuck your drooling mouth in perfect rhythm with his dick that plunged in and out of your puckered, creamy hole.

“yeah, yeah. i gotcha. give into me, sweetness.”

where he had been keeping you pinned against the sex-soaked cheeks — bakugou pulls his sweaty chest away from your back and adjusts the roll of his hips, letting them crash into you like waves on a shoreline. to support his body weight above you, his toned arms cage you in, head tilted to the side to watch you sniffle on his dick, red rimming your watery eyeline. “you’re so fuckin’ pretty when you cry, sweetheart.” he moans condescendingly against the shell of your ear, painting a chaste kiss against your wet cheek. “what a pretty fuckin’ girl, suckin’ me in… takin’ my cock. oh fuck.”

if you could see him, will yourself from the pillows you take purchase in and use to muffle your salacious screams — you would notice how an evil smirk as spread across the blonde’s lips while he ravages you, fucks you beyond the stars and back. “you my pretty girl, yeah? fuckin’ sweet thing.” the praise has you spiralling and simultaneously soothes the burning hatred you have for katsuki in your chest. “why you cryin’ so much? is it over him, or over me?”

the answer to his question slips out of you faster than your sex-crazed brain can catch up. “o-over you!” it’s like you can’t even think for yourself, make any choices for your body outside of what bakugou has planned for you. you’d do anything to please him so that he keeps fucking you, so that you can forget your feelings and keep your place amongst the socially elite. maybe that makes you selfish, maybe it makes you dumb — that you’re a whore for katsuki’s bully cock that churns up your guts and uses you for ecstasy filled relief.

“y-yeah? mmhm, just like that baby,” katsuki stutters, licking his lips while you throw it back on him. the weak snap of his voice (caused by you clenching down on him) has you gushing nastily down bakugou’s length. bathing him in your juices, dripping down his balls as they clap against your ass, and swing against your clit.

“yeah…yeah…y-you’re my friend, k-katsuki! didn’t wanna lose you…”

satisfied with your response and feeling a little mean once more, the king of the plastics brings a heavy hand down against your ass before gripping it tight, forcing you back and forth on his creamed dick. you hiss at the newfound pain blooming underneath your skin, blinking back more tears.

“that’s right sweets, you’ll let me do anythin’ to keep me right? stay bein’ friends.” bakugou barks salaciously into your shoulder blade. greed and power and control sparks between your bodies that move in sync with one another, your hips shakily attempting to catch up with his rough pace.

you gasp when he hits a spot that’s got you howling at the moon. “y-yes, god, yes!”

“even let me fuck your crush? let me fuck you in front’a him?”

all you can do is nod and gargle in response, passionately sucking on his fingers. “get ‘em nice and wet for me. wanna play with you, gorgeous.” he nips at your skin, leaving the imprint of his canines against you before his red eyes laser focus on where your bodies continually meet. “lift your hips. atta girl.”

a heinous squeal escapes you, borderline pornographic as katsuki fumbles between your body and shouto’s high thread count sheets. his sticky fingers press into your pleasure nub in tight, calculated circles and he rewards the sound of your choked moans with another barrage of love bites to your neck. ones that you won’t be able to cover up. ones that show how much you’ve been used.

you wonder if his appetite for your dedication will ever be satisfied. even though your pussy works it’s way back onto him and swallows his cock down like fucking magic — bakugou still wants more of you. he grins sinisterly at the bruises that form just under your skin, that make you hiss when he licks over them and spills his curse words over against that sensitive spot underneath your ear. the sensitivity makes you yelp loudly, despite the people that walk by.

including none other than shouto todoroki.

“you’d even let him watch as i creamed your cute cunt, wouldn’t ya? so pathetic. it’s adorable, sweetness.” the blonde goads, pulling back so that he can get a better view of your ass bouncing against his slender hips. spreading you apart with large hands, he drools down onto his cock and your asshole, spitting onto the point at which his shaft slips inside of you — watching the white froth mix in with your viscous nectar and disappear into the creaminess of your tight hole.

your crush audibly gasps as he enters the room — mismatched eyes drinking in the view of you being absolutely wrecked from behind by his ex. shouto can’t help but admire your puffy face and equally puffy folds while he settles on the bed next to katsuki. he has no idea how his feet even carried him there.

“bakugou what are you—?”

the tail end of shouto’s words slip away when you clench down hard on bakugou, his head falling onto the latter’s shoulder while you share shaky moans. “oh my god,” katsuki pants, pulsing against your silken walls and driving his dick upwards into your sweltering mound. “you’re fuckin’ obsessed with me. with him. you just won’t let this dick go, will ya?”

admitting that you like shouto watching you get fucked by bakugou would be just as embarrassing as admitting your crush on him. it doesn’t matter if you’re crying too hard to confess the matter with words, both of them know it. they can tell by the way your pussy spasms around katsuki’s bulbous cockhead as it bullies it’s way into you with every thrust. “see icyhot, told ya she was a weirdo,” He chuckles down at you menacingly. “letting me be the one t’stretch her pussy open even though you’re the one that she wants. s’so embarrassing.”

todoroki let’s out a noncommittal grunt, equally amused by the situation like his ex. “yeah… so weird…”

he reaches around to grab at the fat of your waist and tugs you back onto katsuki so that his dick never leaves you. so that your clit is smooshed up against perfect abs, that contract with every thrust and overstimulate you.

maybe it’s not such a bad thing to be used by the king of the plastics, if it means shouto gets to touch you too.

“i think she’s about to cum, katsuki.” the two-toned haired jock states as if it’s obvious, his voice husky and low as the scent of sex trickles into the air. “you’re gonna make her cum, baby.”

“can fuckin’ feel it, she’s ‘boutta make a mess of me.” they share a lustful look behind you, that leads to them sharing sloppy, uncoordinated kisses as if you’re not even there. truly treating you like a sex toy to be used whenever, wherever.

the sounds of their kisses ring in your ears, cause heat to burn at your cheeks and shame to settle in your chest once again. but this time, you don’t fucking care — not when you’re close to cumming, not when both of the people you adore in your life are using little old you.

forcing you back and forth over katsuki’s dick even faster, shouto finds it in himself to address you, moaning out your name. “a-are you close?” he simpers, tongue rolling over his ex’s.

“i— i am. p-please. let me cum. lemme cum. lemme c-cum—!” you chant as if it’s the gospel, voice tapering off into a set of whistle tone simpers as you finally hit your high. black spots dot your vision, katsuki using a last burst of energy to canter into you, slamming against your g-spot over and over again. the dam breaks before your brain can register it, release trickling out of your fluttering hole like a flash flood after a vicious storm. it soaks his soft tuft of blonde pubes and soils the sheets below, your body wracked with shakes and aftershocks.

katsuki's cock against your cervix being the epicentre.

the two men behind you share a sick little laugh when you collapse into the sheets face first, both of them leaning down to kiss either of your cheeks soothingly.

“so fuckin’ cute ‘n loyal,” bakugou coos in a twisted tone, pulling out of you to jerk himself off over your quivering body.

shouto smiles and rubs soothing circles in the small of your back in an attempt to calm you down — taking pleasure in your tiny sniffles and hiccups while you come down from your high.

“your turn, bakugou.” he purrs slightly, using his arm to prop himself up on the bed for a perfect view of you both.

“mmfuck, shit ‘m so close.” colourful curses spew from between bakugou’s perfect, cherry bitten lips just as he hits his peak. slick sounds accompany the movements of his rough palm up and down his length, coaxing himself towards orgasm. he cums with a shout, a feral growl tearing his chest in two with how loud it is. all while ropes of his blistering hot and white cum land on your ass, pussy and back.

he collapses next to shouto after that.

you feel a finger drag through the hot mess on your back and turn around just in time to watch bakugou feed a scoop of his cum to your crush. todoroki sucking his fingers happily. “go get her a towel, icyhot.” he demands, and like a slave to the crown, todoroki follows — disappearing from the room in search for a rag to clean you up with. surprisingly, the blonde helps you to sit up, taking you into his chest so you can snuggle against it. “don’t cry sweetness, s’okay. i forgive you for thinkin’ i was a bad friend.”

tilting your chin up, you’re rewarded with a firm chaste kiss — swallowing katsuki’s moans as he tastes the saltine tears in your lips. “you’ll never do it again, right?”

“r-right…” you reply meekly, flinching at the blonde who boops your nose almost affectionately.

he busies himself with fixing your costume until shouto returns with a wet rag to wipe the cum from between your thighs and the rest of you. you try not to let it get to you when they share another passionate kiss, sucking on each other’s tongues and mussing up each other’s hair until they’re all rosy cheeked and short of breath.

you would be a fool to think that you ever stood a chance with shouto todoroki after tonight.

much like you, he’s just another piece in katsuki’s game of chess. he’ll never escape the toxic cycle of their relationship when things keep going like this.

“you look sexy with your hair pushed back, icyhot.” katsuki says to shouto once they come up for air, ruffling his silky locks out of place. his ruby, crazed, gaze slinks over to you next, a coy smirk playing at his lips. “sweetness, tell him, icyhot he looks sexy with his hair pushed back.”

katsuki bakugou is terrible. evil. conniving. but he’s all you’ve got, even if he is a mean girl.

“shouto…you look sexy with your hair pushed back.”

2K notes · View notes

mochimooon · 6 months

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Nurse Gojo - gojo satoru x reader

pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem! Reader summary: A few days post-op, you're still in the trenches of recovery. You had expected this, and assured everyone that you would be okay. In Satoru's mind, that meant you need him to be your nurse. word count: 2600+ notes: Back on the fluff train 🚂 The prompt used came from this list. Not requested, just something I wanted to write. Inspo came from my own experience recovering from a tonsillectomy. Nothing but fluff here. Also, still experimenting with Gojo's character. Haven't pinned down a solid characterization yet, but I'm having fun playing around with his personality. No references made to canon, but can be interpreted as in canon or as a non-curses AU. warnings: FLUFF ! the sugary-sweet kind ! stubborn and prideful reader, zero plot, just an excuse to write something cute ☻

prompt - ♞: Caring for each other while ill

A series of coughs burst forth, one after the other like a litany.

Your eyes fly open, cursing the coughing fit that tore you back to the waking world as you reach to the end table for your bottle of water.

It quells the tickle in your throat, but swallowing a gulp sends lances of pain along the surgical site.

You inhale sharply through your nose to keep from coughing from the pain this time. Seconds tick away until a minute passes, and you set your bottle down, certain that you’re okay for now.

The bottle nudges the humidifier on your nightstand. A steady stream of moisture floats in the air like it has been the past few days. Cutting a glance at your mirror on the wall, you notice it's fogged up, and you don’t doubt that your whole room is mistier than normal.

But it’s meant to help. Moisture and hydration, along with the pain pills will ease your recovery—not expedite it.

You sigh, lying back down on the stack of pillows. From the corners of your vision, the afternoon sunlight pours in through the window, reminding you that you’re inside confined to bedrest. This’ll be worth it when you’re better, you muse.

A light knock on the door grabs your attention. Too tired and unable to speak, the door opens on its own.

Utahime peeks through the crack, only to push her way in when she finds you awake. “Hey, heard you coughing, so I figured you were up.” She takes in your appearance.

You haven’t showered going on three days post-op and have been living in the same oversized shirt since. Because you’ve been laying around, you didn’t bother to run a brush through your hair. And during the last few days, you had next to nothing in your stomach. Tonsillectomies rule.

You barely had the chance to look at yourself except for when you go to the bathroom. The rest of the time you’re watching TV or asleep. Either way, you’re stuck in bed.

As far as your room goes, it was already a mess before you left for the hospital. By the time you made it back, it only got messier. Several empty plastic bottles piled in a box for recycling that you’ll get to when you recover, overflows onto the carpet of your room. Open, half-eaten cups of applesauce litter the nightstand and your dresser, joining the bottle of pain medicine you had within reach.

“Would you like more?” Utahime gestures to the applesauce.

On cue, your stomach groans, making your head spin from the lack of food. You had never been hungrier in your life, and yet each gulp of anything, mushy food or water is like swallowing glass.

You part your lips to speak but stop yourself, opting to shake your head instead.

Utahime nods. Your roommate means well, and you’re grateful for her checking on you.

Unfortunately, there’s little she can do. There’s little you can do other than ride it out. Three weeks you were told and warned that tonsillectomies were harder to bounce back from as an adult. It was just your luck that your tonsils suddenly gave you trouble when you hardly had issues as a child.

There’s an urgent knocking somewhere in the apartment, followed by a few dings of the doorbell.

Utahime checks over her shoulder, brows pinched together. “I’ll be back.” With the click of your door, she’s gone.

A minute passes and there’s an argument playing out in the living room.

You straighten to sit up, arching a brow.

Muffled voices rise, growing louder as they approach the other side of your door.

“Gojo, I didn’t say you can come inside—”

“I’m her boyfriend, I have every right to be in there with her, and if you don’t mind—”

Your bedroom door swings open with grandeur, your boyfriend and your roommates’ bickering flood inside.

“—I’m here to nurse her back to health.” Satoru hangs onto the door handle, motioning to close it.

Bless your roommate, Utahime, but the ire she holds against Satoru is next-level and shoves past him to demand his departure.

“She could have been sleeping, you idiot!”

Satoru waves her off, beaming at you. “She’s not, my girl has a sixth sense for me; she knows when I’m coming for her.”

You cringe at his words, even if they are well-meaning and incorrect. It is a regular occurrence for Satoru to drop by unannounced, you’re still shocked to see him here.

It had been a few days since your surgery, and you ensured Satoru that you would be okay. Utahime was kind enough to check in on you every once in a while.

Naturally, Satoru insisted that he come stay by your side, which led you and your roommate to persuade Suguru to keep him busy so that you could heal in peace.

Yet, here’s Satoru in the flesh, breaking that four-day streak.

“Get going, Gojo—”

Satoru spins around to glower at her. “Respectfully, Utahime, she’s got me to take care of her.”

Utahime flounders, another litany ready to spill out when her eyes flick over to you.

With a wave of your hand and an apologetic smile, you let her know that you’ll be okay, wishing that Satoru didn’t look so smug at your roommate like he’d won some victory.

But, of course to him it is a victory. “Told you.”

Utahime bites her tongue, stepping away until she begrudgingly leaves your room. Satoru is quick to shut the door and lock it behind him.

He turns around, doing a sweep of your bedroom and whistles. “Wow. Did a truck drive by?”

You level him with an annoyed scowl. If you had the ability to speak right now, he’d get another earful from you.

Satoru crosses the room, stopping at the end of your bed. He rocks back on his heels, hands behind his back.

You give him an expectant look.

Satoru smiles wide. “I got your favorite.” He reveals a carton of strawberry ice cream and two spoons. Because when it comes to sweets, Satoru believes in sharing.

You bend your knees under the covers to allow him space to sit.

He leans over, kissing the top of your head. “Still smell beautiful to me.”

Your face burns and you shove his shoulder, only for him to lasso you in with his arm. You’re too weak and mute to fight him off, accepting the shower of affection all over your face.

“These past four days have been the longest of my life. You know how much I missed you? Loads! Just picked this up. Still frozen. We’ll give it a few minutes to thaw out.”

He’s on his feet again, moving about the room like a gust of wind. He grabs your trash bin, tossing the applesauce cups and any other debris you’ve left around in the last few days.

Your eyes widen, trying to get his attention, but now he’s collecting the plastic bottles, picking the fallen ones off the carpet, and tossing them into a box. All while he laments how lonely it’s been without you around.

“Every time I was ready to head over, Suguru needed something. I don’t get it. Yeah, he’s my best friend, but he’s been so needy lately…”

He moves as fast as he talks that the room spins with his energy. You shuffle out of the blanket, clearing your throat.

Big mistake.

Another cacophony of coughs cut through your throat, and you scramble to the side in search of a bottle of water.

An arm is spread along your shoulders, Satoru offers you a new bottle, rubbing a hand along your back.

The water is sharp going down, but after a long gulp, it puts an end to the coughing fit.

A moment passes as you wait, expecting another tickle to rise in your throat.

“Better?” Satoru tilts his head.

Pursing your lips, you nod.

He gives you a bright smile, on his feet in a hurry. “To finish my thought…”

You don’t hear him, not because you don’t want to but because you’re back to watching him bustle around your room, resetting the space to how you normally keep it.

If he notices your attempt to get his attention, Satoru is slick about it, skating in circles as he gathers the last of your mess and opens the door.

He leaves the room, cutting his own rambling short and shuts the door.

Tension simmers in your chest, ears straining to catch any sound of another argument somewhere in the apartment.

Instead, silence is all you hear, a rarity that you associate with Satoru’s absence. But it’s brief. The door widens again with his return, already yammering on about something else.

And he’s also back to sorting your room again. You didn’t notice the glass cleaner and the paper towel roll he brought with him. He coats your mirror with the foam spray, talking a mile a minute, clearing the mist that’s built up and only pausing to grin at his own reflection.

“That’s better,” he says. “Now we can both see ourselves."

Now he’s across the room, spraying your window. After a few swipes, your room is brighter, stronger and the warmth distracts you for a moment. That is until Satoru’s at your nightstand, lifting up the humidifier.

“Whoa, this is empty already,” he muses.

You want to interrupt and ask what he’s doing even though you’re already aware. The better question is why. Sure, your room is in shambles, but that’s not something he needs to worry about. It’s not something anyone needs to be concerned with.

During the first few days of recovery, Utahime did offer to help tidy up the place, clear up the empty bottles and even do your laundry. Every time, you politely rejected her help, privy to the way your roommate would purse her lips like she wanted to say something.

You knew what she was thinking. The same as what Satoru had once expressed.

“You don’t have to do it all, you know? That’s what I’m here for.” It was always said with a bright, albeit overconfident smile.

“Sa…Toru…” His name scrapes harshly in your throat. “Satoru…”

In a flash, Satoru snaps his attention to you, eyes wide, setting the humidifier back down. “Whoa…don’t speak, you’ll hurt your throat.”

You pout, huffing through your nostrils. “You…don’t have to…” Your voice is so hoarse, you don't recognize yourself. Clearing your throat, your lips press tight as you wince. “My room…I’ll clean—”

Satoru presses his palm over your mouth. “Hey. Shhh. Don’t say anything.”

Forever obstinate, you pull away with a frown. “Satoru…”

He shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. Not going to listen if you don’t listen to me. It’s going to hurt if you keep trying to talk.”

You refuse to heed his advice, though your withering pride fails to ease the throbbing in your throat, voice cracking. “I’m fine. You…don’t need to…do anything.”

A humored sigh spills out of Satoru’s mouth. “You don’t need to do anything, other than stay in bed and let me take care of everything.”

Your lips part again to argue, and you’re already bracing yourself for the pain to follow when you speak.

Only your words melt away before they have a chance to form. Your mind blanks, heartbeat in your lips at the firm yet soft kiss.

You’re grateful that Satoru holds your face in his hands. The longer he kisses you, the harder it is to think let alone stay afloat, forgetting your train of thought.

His lips move along yours, gentle, minding that you’re still recovering and can only handle so much. However, you wish you can deepen the kiss, let him explore your mouth that you’re almost ready to endure the discomfort in your throat.

He smiles as you whimper from the loss of his lips. Instead, he levels you with a tender gaze, holding your attention with the calming blue.

“You’re so stubborn,” he murmurs, lacking any ill-feelings. “What am I going to do with you?”

Your face goes warm, looking up at him with a furrow in your brows. When you say nothing, Satoru fills the silence like he always does.

“I know you’re okay doing things on your own. No one doubts that. I just want to help. Won’t you let your charming, strong boyfriend spoil you, hm?” There’s the playful tease you’re familiar with. But his words are earnest, you know that.

He's right, you are stubborn. Too independent, oftentimes soldiering through everything, declining all assistance with a strained smile, never asking for help unless you had no choice.

It’s a mystery, even to you, why it’s so hard to receive help. Bedridden, mute, starving, yet for the past few days, your pride wouldn't accept a single helping hand.

But with Satoru here, stubborn in his own way, you realize how much better your spirits are now that you have his company again.

And when you relent with a nod, it warms your heart to see him beam, knowing that the feeling is mutual.

He kisses the crown of your head, spinning around to take the humidifier. “Be right back, I’ll have this thing filled, and the ice cream should be nice and soft to eat.”

As promised, he returns with the humidifier full. Satoru plops next to you with the carton of ice cream, blinking at the two spoons in his hand.

“Don’t know why I brought two, when we can always share one.” He wiggles his eyebrows, setting the extra spoon aside.

He lets you have the first scoop, the cold strawberry coats your throat, numbing the pain as the flavor revives your spirit.

Satoru leans closer, giving you a knowing look with his lips splitting apart.

You bring the second scoop to your lips to tease him.

He pouts. “After all I’ve done, that’s how it is?”

You smile, unable to resist feeding him a spoonful.

The ice cream is gone in minutes and the carton is tossed out. Taking stock of your room again, it’s like night and day since Satoru dropped by, tidy as though you hadn’t been wasting away for the last few days. You’re grateful for him. You take another pill to manage the discomfort. Satoru hands you your bottle of water, rubbing your back as you force a gulp down. "Another few days, and you'll be better soon."

But you're better now. The pain may flare up, though it's minimal compared to the company of your nurse—boyfriend who's just happy to be at your side.

Satoru settles on the bed, kissing your forehead. Long legs dig into your blanket, falling at his ankles as he gets comfortable. With one long arm wrapped around you, the other stretches to your nightstand for the remote.

He’s already scrolling through Netflix, making a comment about binging something together.

“What’re you in the mood to watch?” He scrolls endlessly at titles until he stops at your ‘continue watching’ list. “Oh, you’ve been watching Bridgerton! Already on season two? Well, I haven’t seen any of it yet, let’s start from the beginning.”

The show plays, Satoru rambles at something every few minutes (“Look at that dress she’s wearing. You’d look really good in it”). It’s a sudden contrast to the last few days you had, alone and miserable.

Satoru’s intentions are always good, golden even, and no matter how much you try to put on a front that you’re okay on your own and can heal fine in solitude (in peace), it’s an odd blessing that Satoru refused to leave you alone.

You snuggle closer to his side, hooking arm across his chest, and as always, he pulls you even closer. While your words remain lost, Satoru hears you through your silent gesture.

“I love you too.”

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x you #gojo saturo x you #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfiction #mochi-writings #gojo fluff

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modelbus · 2 months

Text

Anyone else have a newfound love for this song and an addiction to task force 141? No? Just me?

To my mcyt readers: …I can’t explain. Just know that is ✨ different ✨ from my usual. (Quite Suggestive) To the COD readers I've attracted: I haven't played the games and reality is what I decide to make it (feel free to send asks educating me or info dumping <3)

Pairing: John Price x Gn!Reader

Too sweet

Baby, I can never tell How do you sleep so well?

”Morning Captain.” The words are practically a ritual, although you know he won’t respond. He never does this early in the morning.

There were a lot of unwritten rules in 141. When you first joined, you fucked them all up. Continuously. More often than not, it was Soap who laughed at you while Price patiently explained why you can’t joke about Ghost being afraid of snakes.

This rule, though, only took you a few days to catch onto. The “don’t talk about the sleepless nights” rule. Everyone knew why that rule existed; you’d seen enough combat to not be that naive. You’d been there enough to wake up before the sunrise, to watch the sky bleed orange.

And that’s exactly why you don’t ask Price about the circles under his eyes. If he’s not up doing paperwork, he’s up for other reasons. You don’t pity him; being Captain isn’t something you could ever do.

“Had a dream that Gaz found a goat and convinced you to make it the base pet.” You continue. His lips quirk up, gaze turning amused, so you soldier on. “Then it ate Ghost’s clothes, so he kicked it out of the base and Gaz quit the task force over it. And Soap claimed he could speak to it, but I called bullshit on him and he disappeared.”

”Disappeared to where?”

“Hell, maybe? That’s where he fucking belongs.” You smile at him, and his eye roll—you pretend it’s fond—seems like a victory of its own.

You’re too sweet for me You're too sweet for me

“No.”

The finality of his word rings clear, but you persist. You were never too good at stopping before you crossed that line, never too good at giving up while you were ahead. Things, more often than not, ended up right as rain.

“Price—“ You try.

“You’re too young, and it’s wrong.” Never before have you seen a man so tortured. It wasn’t a question of if he wanted you, it was a question if he would let himself want you. And you both knew it. “I won’t take your innocence from you.”

You scoff, following him down the hall and out of the briefing room. So much for staying after to help him gather papers.

“I’m a soldier, hardly innocent!”

“Compared to me, you are!” He turns, and you automatically look up to his eyes. As you said before: tortured. “I’m harsh, and we both know it. You deserve to be with someone soft, someone who can be sweet with you.”

“I don’t want to be.”

From the second you laid eyes on John Price, you knew you’d never want to be. It wasn’t his age, although you never minded an older man. It was his passion, his care, his leadership and skills and everything else about him. He was magnetic, drawing you in despite everything.

And you weren’t blind to the way his gaze always met yours in a room, either.

Price sighs heavily. “Go to bed, soldier.”

Tactful retreat it is, then. “Good night, Price.” You murmur, turning away.

A pause, then another sigh. This one is lighter. “Good night.”

I work late where I’m free from the phone And the job gets done But you worry some, I know

Knocking twice, you don’t wait for Price to respond before entering his office. His light was on, shining out a signal to anyone in the hallway that he was awake.

”You’re about to owe me.” You announce, ignoring his groan.

“I was working.”

“And now you’re going to eat dinner. I had to smuggle these from the dining hall, you know.” You drop the napkin bundle you had made on his desk, opening it to reveal the food. His and yours.

“I was going to get food later.”

“Liar.” You sit in the chair across from his desk, grabbing a bread roll. “No drinks, because even I can’t smuggle that out.”

“I could get you in trouble for this.” He points out.

“But you won’t. I’m your favorite.”

Price reaches forward, taking his bread roll. Mimicking you, although he never puts his pen down. The paperwork spread out in front of him is just like every other night you’ve brought him food.

“Who says you’re my favorite? Maybe it’s Ghost.” Price smiles, and you beam back at him.

“Don’t insult me like that. I’m proud of my title as your favorite. I mean, I am the only one that you let lounge in your office.”

“Tenuously.”

“Still.”

His attention turns back to filling out his paperwork, leaving you to sit there. Per usual. You stay until all the food is gone, leaving him with only crumbs on his desk to show for it.

Sweeping the napkin and crumbs into his desk, you pause by the doorframe. His hat obscures his face, but you know he’s aware that you’re still there.

“Get some sleep sometime tonight, yeah?” You hedge.

“I should be the one telling you that.”

“Someone gotta look after you, Price. Besides, I’m not the one who doesn’t go to bed before daylight.”

Knocking at the door to signal your exit, you head out.

You treat your mouth as if it��s heavens gate The rest of you like you’re the TSA

"Never have I ever... been a virgin." Soap says, raising his beer.

"That's not how it fucking works." You argue. "You were a virgin at some point, obviously."

"You know wha' I mean."

"Just pick something else." Ghost butts in gruffly.

This is why you prefer not to play drinking games with the task force. Soap always ends up fucking them up first, and then it manages to devolve into chaos. For an elite spec ops team, 141 sure did struggle at these games.

"Fine." Soap groans, taking a drink of his beer while he thinks.

"In the meantime, I'll go-" Gaz starts, but immediately gets cut off.

"Never have I ever been a virgin right now."

You stare at Soap. He stares back. "I'm going to beat your ass for targeting during training tomorrow." You threaten him, taking a sip of your wine. You're the only one drinking wine here, but you prefer the taste of it over beer or whatever the others are drinking.

As you tilt your glass back, your eyes lock with Price's. You're reclined on the floor with Soap while he's in a chair, giving you the perfect line of sight on each other. He watches with dark eyes as you swallow, tracing your figure with a gaze so heavy that it makes you shiver.

In his hand, his whiskey remains untouched.

"You just need to get laid and then you won't be such an easy target." Soap is saying, oblivious to the tension simmering between you and Price.

"Unlike you dumbasses, I'm don't want to sleep with the first moving thing I see." You don't look away from Price pointedly. "I prefer to wait for the right person."

Ghost makes a disinterested noise from the chair next to Price, making you flick your gaze to him. He inclines his head slightly, well-aware of the thing between you and Price, but doesn't say a word. Thank fuck for Ghost.

"I'm heading to the bathroom. Don't set the room on fire while I'm gone. Soap."

"God, I didn't do anything yet!"

"Yet."

"I'll go too." Price says lowly, his footsteps tailing yours. It's not until you're in the hallway and out of earshot from the others that he speaks to you. "You're a tease, doll."

"I'm aware." You turn to grin at him, but startle at his proximity. He steps forward and you take a matching one back, your back hitting the hallway wall.

"In front of everyone, too." He murmurs, boxing you in. Your heartbeat pounds loudly in your ears, but not from fear. You know what fear feels like, and it certainly isn't the warmth pooling in your gut. "Begging for it."

"You know I have been."

His head dips, and just for a moment the bitter taste of whiskey invades your tastebuds. Your eyes flutter shut as his tongue swipes across yours, and when you open them he's gone.

Point, you.

As soft as the rain Pretty as a vine As sweet as a grape

John Price was everywhere.

His hands on your hips, his bookshelf pressing against your back, his mouth on yours. Every inch of him invaded every inch of you, and you loved it.

As it turns out, all you had to do was get shot in the field. A graze made well worth it by this reaction.

“Don’t you ever pull that shit again.” Price says into your mouth, hands tight on your skin like you’ll disappear. You’d worry that they’d leave bruises, but you already know your love looking at the reminder of him.

“Or what?” You taunt when he pulls back for air.

“Or I’ll tie you to my fucking bed.”

The threat lights your blood on fire in a way it’s never done before. Want, roaring strong, sears through you.

“Truly a terrifying prospect, the guy I’ve been waiting to ask me out finally taking me to his bed—“

He smothers your laughter with his lips and tongue, hand coming up behind your head to protect it from the shelves. You tug at his hair, earned yourself a low addicting sound. Yeah, you need to hear that more. A lot more.

“What’d medical say?” Price asks, dipping his head to trail kisses along your neck. Because he had been waiting to ambush you the second you stepped into his office, you never got to tell him.

“Um.” You struggle to collect any rational thoughts as he nips at your neck, his beard and mustache scratching your skin. “They cleared me. Wrapped it and said I was good.”

“And what do you think I have to say about that?”

Trick question.

You groan, but it comes out less annoyed and more like something entirely different. He hums in response before you can even be embarrassed by the sound.

“I don’t want to run for training.” You complain.

“I think you’ve gotten enough things that you want from me.” As if to serve as an example, he presses a quick kiss to your lips before pulling back. Not too far: his hands on your hips ensure he’s still got a hold on you.

“…maybe.” You relent, staring up at him.

He smiles, reassuring, and you know this is going to stick. “Pretty thing.”

“I know you are.”

“I was talking about you, doll.”

And you knew he was, you were making a joke, but the way he says it has your cheeks flaming. He laughs, breath fanning over your hair, amused.

“Let’s grab food from the mess hall.” He suggests.

“You? Actually grabbing food? At a reasonable time?” It’s a goddamn miracle.

“Yeah yeah, don’t rub it in. Wipe that smile off your face.”

“Yes sir.” You don’t wipe the smile off your face.

“I had my tongue in your mouth, I think you can stop calling me sir. Or Captain, frankly.”

“What, you don’t like that stuff?”

His eyes widen briefly. “Oh, you little—“

#john price #captain john price #captain price #task force 141 #call of duty #captain price x reader #john price x reader #captain johnathan price #cod #tf 141 #john price cod #john price x you #john price call of duty

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huramuna · 3 months

Text

banshee's lament - chapter 1.

aemond targaryen x stark ofc minor jacaerys velaryon x stark ofc masterlist prev | next

a former ward of alicent hightower and aemond's childhood companion, shera stark, returns to king's landing after ten years. ten years after the incident at driftmark that left her and aemond permanently disfigured. after so many years apart, shera and aemond are almost strangers. almost.

a/n: i posted the first two chapters of this story before, but they're being reworked -- so just poof what you know about them out of your mind when reading it now and think of it as a clean slate.

wordcount: 3k

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! no taglists right now, sorry.

content: smut, angst, fluff, disabled ofc, aemond being delulu & obsessive, major canon divergence, ofc has a service direwolf, i'm taking canon rules and putting them in a blender and taking a shot, arranged marriage

story playlist

The wind had finally died down that day, the trees somewhat still over the horizon. Their branches still wobbled with some errant breeze, whistling through the wood like a song.

The window was pushed outward, the crisp air crossing paths with the smell of smoke, whirling and mingling like lost friends. A small fireplace was warming the room as the lady perched on her windowsill, dark copper curls hanging around her like tendrils. Shera took in a deep breath of air— it was crisp and refreshing, pushing away the errant effects of sleepiness.

Her skin prickled in goosebumps beneath her nightgown as she turned to her bed. A large black mass was snoozing softly still, taking up the majority of the mattress. Slinking over, she snuggled herself close to the giant canine, blowing softly on his muzzle to wake him. Large amber eyes met brown and milky blue, pupils dilating and constricting in tandem, before the wolf let out a sleepy chuff.

“Wake up, my love,” Shera whispered, fingers digging into his shaggy mane as she scratched just the right spot. “Moongeist, we must start the day.” she hummed.

The direwolf rolled over onto his back, belly exposed to the chilled air. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, one leg kicking as his companion got the one itch just out of reach of his own claws.

“Oh, you’re a ham,” Shera mumbled into his fur, peppering him with kisses. “You’re no wolf, you’re a honey glazed ham,” she tickled his belly, causing him to let out an almost laughing whine. “With a side of sweet potatoes and winter chard.” she rolled next to him, snuggling into him like he was a person. Sprawled out from the tip of his outstretched legs, up to his nose, he outmatched Shera’s height by about one and a half feet. Westeros would surely need to watch out if her wolf ever learned to walk on two feet!

They lazed together for the better part of an hour before Shera called in the maids— but not before donning her veil and choker. The maids would only help dress her from the neck down, and were ushered out after for Shera to do her hair alone. She took in a deep breath as they fastened the corset around her form.

“May need to lay off the blueberry hand pies , my lady,” one of the maids murmured. “‘Tis getting hard to lace you up.”

Shera felt a swirling pit in her stomach at the comment— it wasn’t a secret that she was no svelte ermine. She had curves and a bit of extra mass in the softer areas of her body, coupled with scarred stretch marks around her sizable bosom and thighs. “… hm.” she snorted, not wanting to dignify the maid’s comment with a response. This was, unfortunately, the norm. The jabs, the pokes, the insults between sentences— even the serving girls have become brazen, snickering as Shera walked past. She didn’t exactly understand it— mayhaps it was because she could hardly speak to defend herself, mayhaps they think her daft and non-understanding of their less than tactful barbs.

As normal as it was, it made it no less tiring. “Just… lace it up,” she quipped, a bit too harshly, as she held her thumb and forefinger to her throat at the scratch of pain. “… I have things to attend to…”

“Yes, my lady.” the maids responded in tandem, squeezing poor Shera into a corset much too tight.

After they left, Shera picked up a shoe and threw it at the door, startling Moongeist. “Damned ptarmigans… clucking hens… when do they cease?” she groaned, patting the wolf on the head as he, ever dutifully, retrieved her shoe. “I’m… we’re the wolves— they’re supposed to be afraid of me.” she continued, as it usually went. She would whisper and murmur to herself (to Moongeist) while she readied herself. Sitting in front of the open window, her fingers deftly weaved through her auburn locks, working absentmindedly into a braid. She pinned the braid upon her head, glanced at the mirror, then unpinned it.

It became a back and forth task as she meticulously decided on a hairstyle— she wasn’t usually so vain, but apparently, Prince Jacaerys was arriving for a meeting. She’d spent some time with him the past few moons as they ‘courted’. He was polite, of course, and had grown into himself well since their childhood. But… Shera felt nothing for him, princely charm be damned. And she was increasingly sure he felt the same, more inclined to enjoy the company of Cregan rather than her.

But that was the way of the world, wasn’t it? To be trapped in a loveless box for titles, for armies and alliances, for oaths— that was fate. And fate… was usually unchanged. Shera oft cursed the Gods, the Old and the New, for weaving her tapestry of life in such a bereft and depressing manner. If she were to look upon it, it’d be dreary and uncouth, not fit to hang upon a wall, destined to rot and mold in a cellar for eternity.

But what did Shera know of love, anyhow. How could she— for who would love a banshee?

She settled on twin braids that settled upon her back, pinned up into two loops. Adjusting her veil in the mirror and assuring she wasn’t too visible, she made for the door, Moongeist pressed to her.

The winding halls of Winterfell had become second nature, muscle memory— but her mind wandered, imploring herself to think… Did she remember such paths at the Red Keep? She hoped her memory, if nothing else, would serve her well one day.

None of the denizens she passed by in the corridors spoke to her, only gave her stiff nods before avoiding her eye line. Was she such an abhorrent sight? Her heels clicked against the stone, fingertips skimming the walls as she stayed close to them, using the familiar winding gait to guide her to the Great Hall. Her stomach grumbled under her tight corset– she hadn’t even had time to break her fast before already being shoved to the dragon’s maw. She heard the whispers of the ‘dashing dragon prince’ arriving early, upon his dragon which was the color of a witch’s brew, green and sprightly. Shera couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she pushed the heavy oaken door to the hall.

Cregan was there, beard trimmed so as to not be unsightly, and laden in dark aurochs fur. Their ancestral weapon, Ice, was strapped to his back like a second spine, rigid and unyielding. He was faced towards the fire in the hearth, while Jacaerys was to his side, the two already deep in conversation.

The sound of the door opening was as good of an indication of her arrival as she would get, and they both turned to her in tandem. Jacaerys, gallant and princely as ever, rushed to her side, but not before stopping a few paces before, as Moongeist was pressed to her thigh with a wary look in his eye.

“My lady,” Jacaerys exclaimed, flashing his dazzling smile, his brown mop of curls bouncing as he approached, albeit cautiously. “You look radiant as ever.”

Shera’s brow rose from under her veil– her facial expressions were hardly seen, and she was able to give her unabashed reactions to things quite often. She was woe to master the art of masking, so she simply did not. He called her radiant– an alluring lie if she ever heard one, he couldn’t see her face, how could she possibly be radiant? She presumed his mother had been schooling him in the art of politics. That is what this is, isn’t it? It’s all just… politicking.

“My prince,” Shera responded softly, giving Moongeist an ever subtle command to sit to the side, allowing Jace to take her arm. She didn’t much like being touched by other people, it made her skin crawl, but she too needed to… continue the charade. “Thank you– you are quite early, I hope I look… presentable.”

“We were waiting for a bit, Shera,” Cregan commented offhandedly, cracking his knuckles slightly. He was a bit annoyed, she could tell. “But, ladies do take long to get ready, do they not, my prince?”

“It wasn’t a long wait, no worries,” Jace responded coolly. “But yes, it takes a small army and frequent turning of an hourglass for my mother to finally be ready, I imagine it’s similar for most ladies.”

Ah, yes. As if it doesn’t take Cregan an hour to pick out his furs for the day, pompous ass. And did Jacaerys don himself in that heavy dragonscale plated armor? Doubtful. Shera suppressed the urge to give an indignant huff. “My… deepest apologies,” she murmured. “I do hope my dear brother wasn’t such a terrible conversationalist.”

Cregan snorted as Jace guided Shera to her seat, pushing it in for her. “My mother– she wishes to meet you, of course,” Jacaerys prattled, scooting into the chair next to her (and Cregan). “We are going to go to the Queen for approval for the official betrothal… and subsequent wedding.”

Shera blinked slowly as she absorbed the information. She expected to have to meet Princess Rhaenyra at some point and for the Queen to become involved in the betrothal– but the wedding? Subsequent? The nail on her pointer finger dug into the nail bed of her thumb idly, picking, picking, picking as she mulled over her next words. “... will the wedding be soon, my prince?” she asked, sneaking a glance at Cregan, who had a glazed over look in his eye.

“... my mother wishes to secure the… union before her ascension, my lady.”

“The King is not yet dead– I don’t understand the rush.” Shera blurted out, her nail sinking deeper into her flesh. She felt like there was some sort of secret she was not a part of, some undisclosed plan that she wasn’t privy to Oh, yes, of course– she was just the pawn, wasn’t she?

“That is well and true– my grandsire, the King, has been in poorly health for the past few years. It is… only a matter of time.” Jace stammered, trying to regain the upper hand in the conversation.

“Rhaenyra’s ascension will happen sooner than later, Shera. It is only a wish that you and Jacaerys are well bonded by then, mayhaps even producing an heir.” Cregan interjected.

She wanted to vomit, she wanted to scream, she wanted to lash out at everyone– she was a vessel, a puppet for a greater vision of Westeros that nobody cared if she was specifically a part of– ‘twas only her luck she was the sister of the Warden of the North, who held an amassing army and ferocity for those he was bidden for. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Warmth spread onto her fingertip and Moongeist shuffled at her feet, a low whine coming from the back of his throat. She felt such a rage come over her for a split second, her vision blurring as she felt the overwhelming need to sink her teeth into someone and make them feel her despair.

“Okay.” she finally said, her voice sounding far away and small, as if it wasn’t even hers.

Jacaerys and Cregan conversated further while Shera stared off into some small point in the distance until her eyes watered from not blinking, blood pooling and staining against her nails.

“Thank you. I must break my fast now,” Shera suddenly spoke up, not caring if the two of them were in the middle of a conversation. “We will leave within a fortnight.”

The journey from the hall back to her room was a blur, she remembers curtsying to Jacaerys and bidding him goodbye and some other innocuous pleasantries. Sitting back at her desk, she tore off her veil in frustration, bracelets and earrings alike jingling. She put her head in her hands, feeling the all too familiar ache of tears building.

She didn’t want to go— why did she have to be married? Why was it her destiny to be a pawn? To be a wife? Especially to someone who was there. Her throat clenched as she tried to hold back the tears— to no avail. They burned and stung, her already tender demeanor withering.

Prying her hands away, she looked over her desk. It was strewn with miscellaneous books to which she struggled to read, along with some half-done charcoal sketches of prospective sewing projects. Shera wasn’t known for outbursts, as her quiet and ghostly prefecture was one that stayed in the background of things. But, she felt a roiling in her stomach, wrought over like forged castle steel, molten and aching and hot— it burned in her like a plague, working its way through her and exiting her body in the form of a wail, coupled with her arms sweeping off the contents of her desk to the floor.

The momentary feeling of anguish subsided as soon as it came and her throat ached from her cry. Her eyes felt heavy as she tried to get up and subsequently failed, sinking to the ground like a discarded rag. Moongeist let out a whine, propping his head under Shera’s arm, having her rest some of her weight upon him.

“I’m pathetic, my love,” she whispered, feeling all the part of a fallen porcelain doll, placated on her bottom upon the floor, legs out in front of her as if she were a child on a playroom floor. “Nothing like the Winter Kings of yore. I’m sorry.” Shera’s thumb rubbed on the wolf’s ear as she wallowed momentarily in self-pity and self-loathing.

Gathering some strength, she pushed the papers below her desk to the side. The sweeping motion befell something new— no, not new. ‘Twas old, upon inspection. It was a stack of letters, covered in dust now, but neatly tied together with wool twine. Unveiling one, she skimmed it over to the best of her ability.

Dearest Shera,

It isn’t the same without you here. My head hurts all of the time, I keep bumping into things and I can scarcely write. In fact, I am having Helaena pen this to you right now. She says hello.

Mother is in shambles, frayed at the ends like your old blue dinner dress. Her and grandsire are constantly whispering and she cries more often. I think she misses you.

As does Helaena. As do I. Mayhaps even Aegon.

Does your head hurt as well? What do you do to help with the pain? Are you able to walk without bumping into things?

I hope to hear from you soon.

Best,

Aemond Targaryen

That had been the first letter sent to her from King’s Landing— Cregan, to his own dismay, sat down and read it to her after she had spinned herself into a crying fit, sending the maesters into a tizzy as she threatened to reopen the stitches upon her throat.

In her poppy-addled young mind, she hadn’t recognized that it was not Aemond’s writing or words, but most definitely Helaena’s, as the letter Shera sent back were those of Cregan, and not hers.

Prince Aemond,

It is an honor to hear from you. I’m recovering quite well, at the behest of my brother. Winterfell is very different from the South, but I am finally finding my footing here in the cold.

I have been a wolf at heart this entire time, like my forefathers.

My ability to walk has been improving, as the maesters here are excellently equipped for such a feat.

It is my hope that we can both find a sense of normalcy in our lives once more.

I wish you well.

Regards,

Shera Stark

She’d hardly remembered when Cregan read it aloud, and she didn’t catch the cold, rigid wording, bereft of any warmth and camaraderie that she would have included. Truth be told, at the time of it being written, Shera couldn’t even hold her own spoon to sip at bone broth, much less walk.

It was unclear to her still, to this day, why Cregan felt the need to lie about her condition— but it was apparently a well placed one, as the next letter to come was in another tone all together. It was about three moons afterward, and the handwriting was different. It was a bit shaky, but proper and dignified.

Lady Stark,

I am most gracious for your reply. It is a balm to the Queen to hear you are doing well.

Let us both hope we are well on the road to our full recoveries.

Stay warm.

Signed,

Prince Aemond Targaryen

Shera’s fingers traced over the letter, she could still recognize it as Aemond’s handwriting— but the tone seemed clipped and cold, colder than even Cregan’s letter was.

There were a few more envelopes in the stack, but if she remembered correctly, there was nothing of substance. Her chest ached occasionally when she thought about it all— did Aemond think of her still? Or was she just a silly footnote in his life? She abhorred to admit to herself, much less anyone else, that she still did. Aemond Targaryen still had a place in her mind, an undeterred host in the recesses of her brain that she couldn’t rid herself of— if she even wanted to. She wondered what he looked like now. Was he finally as tall as Aegon, mayhaps more? Did he finally get his hands upon the book he had been wanting to read? She hoped he spent his days flying upon Vhagar’s back— a gift that he had paid the price for.

She did as well. But her price wasn’t for Vhagar. It was for Aemond.

Her throat burned and constricted with the threat of tears once more as she pulled herself from the floor, Moongeist’s body pressed to her hip to guide her. Padding to the fireplace, which was nursing a few hot coals and sparse flame, she fed the letters into the fire one by one. The flames grew as they burned, the ink upon the pages fettering into nothing but ash and sickly memory.

Were they strangers now?

Does he remember her?

… why does she still wish to see him?

A wolf travels south at the behest of one dragon– but her mind upon another.

How sordid.

194 notes · View notes

soullumii · 9 months

Text

if my heart’s gonna break | joel miller x f!reader

part 1 (read part 1 before reading this!)

summary: a couple nights later, you head back to joel’s

warnings: 18+!!!! smut again. unprotected piv. fem!afab!reader. angst again don’t worry i’ll make a happy ending okay

word count: 4k

joel mod in gif is by speclizer (so fucking hot oh my GODDDD)

a/n: finally finished part 2 omg i’m sorry for the wait yall… i’m a perfectionist it’s lowkey debilitating. anyways… i hope u guys enjoy <3 tysm for the support on part 1 and tbh on all my other fics too… i can’t believe ppl like my writing that much. i am very grateful! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

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im scared but if my heart's gonna break before the night will end

i said we're in danger

sleeping with a friend

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You cant stop thinking about the kiss.

The kiss that honestly shouldn’t mean so much to you. You’ve kissed him, like, so many times. So many times his tongue has been in your mouth, been in your damn vagina. So why the fuck… why the fuck are you so worked up over this right now?

It’s just…it was so heavy. It felt like…like more than just a kiss. Like he was laying his life down for you, much like he does in patrols.

He… Joel… he usually never kisses right after sex. He recognizes in the post-coitus energy that things are different. They mean more. He has to know that. So… why now? Does he…?

No. You’re just in your head again. Maybe you’re thinking about it too hard. You’ve never had a friends with benefits situation before now. Maybe this… maybe this is regular.

But for your own psyche, you think you might have to set some ground rules.

There was always that main rule, that wretched, critical rule. The one you said to him on the first day of your strange exchange.

“Don’t go falling in love with me, cowboy.”

Well, to hell with that one, right? Pretty sure you’ve beaten that shit to death. Shattered all possible remains of it.

So more rules. More rules will have to do. Starting with:

No kissing.

Should be easy enough.

You’ll figure out the rest later. You have got to stop thinking about it, though, because you’re on the way to his house right now.

You knock swiftly on the door, and you swear you feel your heart drop into your pussy the moment he opens the door to reveal himself. A plain, black t-shirt is stretched across his broad chest, haphazardly tucked into a pair of plaid pajama pants that hang loosely around his hips. His graying hair is ruffled beyond belief, curling around his ears and falling over his forehead. In your fits of passion and desire a couple nights ago, you hardly realized it had grown longer. It looks nice.

This sleepy and soft Joel is not one you’ve seen in a while. Well, it’s not like you’ve seen him much lately anyway, with him having been gone and all. Still, it’s disorienting.

“Howdy,” he says.

“Um. Hi.” You try not to gawk. “Did…did I come at a bad time, or something?”

“No, not at all. I just got back from patrols… took a shower,” he says, leaning a shoulder against the door jamb, strong arms crossing over his chest. There’s a tiny, barely perceptible smirk on his lips. “Need somethin’?”

You see it now, the water clinging to his hair, darkening it, beading at his temples like sweat. You follow a line of water trickling down his throat until it disappears behind his collar.

Rule 2: Don’t come over after he’s showered.

“I…uh, I can come back later if you want—“

You’re nervous to ask him what you want to ask him, which is honestly ridiculous considering you guys have been doing this for months now. You used to be able to just knock on his door and he’d pull you in, and it was that easy. Or you’d give him a look when in public, and he knew exactly what you needed.

Now, you’re painfully awkward. Curse him and curse your feelings.

He straightens a bit, his brows furrowing in slight concern. “What’s goin’ on?”

Heat spreads down your neck, embarrassment. Shame. It’s strange, how just a couple nights ago you let him finger you in public, and now you’re afraid to ask him for sex again in his house and for your panties back.

You should honestly just say something like:

I’m here for my underwear.

And you’re positive he’d say:

Want it back? You gotta earn it, sweetheart.

And your knees would buckle and you’d sink down to the carpeted floor in front of his couch and suck him off until he was coming down your throat, stroking back your hair and thumbing his cum on your plush bottom lip.

But instead you’re scowling at him and blurting: “I need a drink.”

How dare he leave you high and dry for three weeks, come back and fuck the shit out of you, make you realize you’re in love with him, and look this good?

God damnit, you need to get your shit together.

Joel’s eyes widen, surprised only slightly by your outburst, before he backs up to allow you inside his home. When he shuts the door behind you, his hand settles warmly on your lower back as he steers you toward the kitchen.

He immediately beelines for the liquor cabinet and grabs a bottle of red for you. A warm, tingly feeling stirs in your stomach at the fact that he knew you’d want wine. The frustration you’ve been feeling fizzles out.

“You know me so well.”

He gives you a light smirk, uncorking the bottle. The liquor gurgles as he pours it into a glass. “Think you’d kill me if I didn’t know after all this time.”

You laugh, “Sure, but the real test of friendship is if you knew how I’d kill you.”

“A swift kick to the nuts and then one of my guitars to my head.”

Your eyes widen on a guffaw. “You think I’d damage one of your guitars?”

“You care more about my guitars than my genitals?”

“Yes. Why would I ever smash one of your guitars?”

He rolls his eyes. “Kill two birds with one stone—my soul and my body. It’s effective. If you needed to kill me, I’d hope it was like that. Now how would I kill you?”

You hum in consideration. “Trick question. You wouldn’t—no, you couldn’t.”

“You know me so well.”

His words mirrored back at you so gently, with his brown eyes trained on you intently has the warmth in your belly spreading, making you drop your gaze.

His smirk grows and he hands you the wine glass and reaches for some homemade brandy. You watch the muscles in his arm flex as he pours, sipping daintily while your mind replays thoughts of filth. Of you dragging that arm between your legs, grinding down on it until—

“So, you really only here for a drink?” He asks with a playful lilt, taking a sip of his own beverage and effectively jolting you out of your daydreaming.

You lean against the island, wondering if you should tell him the truth. From the way he’s looking at you, hungrily and heated, like a lion ready to pounce, you’re tempted to.

But…you’re afraid. You can’t stop thinking about The Rule. The one you broke and the ones you just made. You wonder if whatever might happen between you two tonight will unravel them before you can even put them into place.

You look up at him through your lashes, lips pursed around the rim of the glass. “Maybe, maybe not.”

His eyes darken, tongue darting out to lick his lips of sweet fermented wine. His gaze travels up and down your figure, comfortable and breathable in a t-shirt and shorts. Nothing fancy and cute like your sundress from the other night, because today you had to work. But Joel has never minded what you’ve worn, swearing you always look sexy in anything.

Which is something that also makes you question this friends with benefits situation you have here.

He sets his glass down and eases in closer, curling an arm around your waist to pull you into him. “How high’s the chance then?”

“…What do you mean?”

“I mean what’s the probability that you really did only come here for a drink?” he drawls, eyes following your lips as your tongue dips out to wet them. “Or was there another reason?”

The cold tip of his nose brushes along your throat, lips ghosting over your skin. You tremble in his hold. “Odds are in favor of the first option,” you breathe, “ran out of alcohol at my place.”

“And you couldn’t just stop by the Bison? Had to steal from my stores?”

“You know you have the good stuff.”

“You’re lyin’ but I’ll pretend like you ain’t.”

That makes you laugh, and more tumble out of you when one of his hands traces lazily over your stomach, fingers light and delicate and teasing.

“So why d’ya need a drink?”

Because you’re driving me crazy. Because I’m driving myself crazy. Because the universe wants to fuck me over.

You smile and your free hand skates up his muscled back, your fingers brushing along the stretchy fabric of his tee, your voice soft. “Just needed to destress a little. Work has been intense.”

He grins back, presses it into the spanse between your throat and your shoulder, before he lightly scrapes his teeth over it and lays a gentle bite that has you keening into him, pressing your body against his.

“Well, I could help you destress another way too,” he murmurs, palm squeezing the pudgy flesh of your waist, fingers digging lightly into your muscle.

“Mm… yeah?” you hum, your voice a low purr, back arching. Your breasts press into his chest, and Joel makes a sound deep in his throat in agreement.

He presses you into the island, caging you in with his hands on either side of you. He towers over you, a sweatpant clad leg sliding between yours.

He leans down to kiss you, and a flashing light blares in your mind — NO KISSING — loud and bright and distracting. You turn your head at the last second, his lips landing on your cheek. But Joel doesn’t pull back, doesn’t question you. He just kisses down your cheek, along your jaw, mouthing at you. Sucking your skin to leave little marks that will either fade or be covered by concealer.

It used to upset you when he left marks because they’re a pain to cover up. Then, you started to like it. You didn’t mind covering up the marks because when you took the makeup off and saw them at the end of the day, all you could think about was him. About the how he made you come. About the words he muttered in your ear. About the feeling of his hands on you—in you.

Now, you’re starting to grow upset again, but this time it’s because you want to wear them proudly. Want people to know he gets to claim you like this. But… you can’t. But you also don’t want him to stop.

You allow him to continue marking you up, his hand coming up to rest behind your skull, holding you in place. You press your body into his eagerly and with desperate, soft noises that he returns with placating moans.

And then he shifts, and his thigh ruts against your clothed core, and you moan lightly, airily, grinding your hips down against him, searching for any friction.

His hands curl around the hem of your white tee, and he peels it off your body. One skates behind your back to easily undo the clasp of your bra, and then your breasts are heavy and on display for him.

Joel stares down at you with heavy eyes. “Christ, you’re beautiful.”

Longing claws at your chest, and you look up at him coyly, your lip caught between your teeth. Joel groans like he’s in pain, and squeezes along the underside of one of your breasts before leaning down to close his mouth over the nipple while his other hand gives attention to the other, squeezing and pinching. Your hands find purchase in his damp hair as low moans tumble from your lips.

When he’s deemed one nipple adequately appreciated, he moves onto the next. Licking, revering, his dark eyes peering up at you while his peppered hair is fisted in your hands. The sight has slick arousal pooling in your underwear.

Eventually he pulls back and his hands clamp down on your hips. He guides you along the muscle of his thigh, your clit pulsing at the contact.

“Want you to come on my thigh, baby.” His voice is a ragged slur of words against your ear, warm and paired with a kiss to your cartilage.

“Fuck…yes, Joel,” you whimper, sparks flying through your nerves with each roll of your hips.

His fingers grip your chin, tilting your head so you have no choice but to keep eye contact with him as you rut against his thigh. He’s grinning, eyes heavy lidded and deep, dark like wet tar. They suck you in as if they were quicksand.

You’d let him drag you under a million times over.

Your best friend.

“Joel,” you moan, feeling yourself grow close. Standing at the cliff's edge. His eyes bore into yours, his grin slipping as he focuses on you. Focuses on making you shatter atop him.

“Come on, baby. You can do it. You can come,” he says encouragingly, fingers stroking the skin of your hip. You feel tears prick your eyes as the waves crash, spreading from your throbbing clit along your muscles. Filling you with warmth, stronger and deeper than the buzz from the wine.

“Good job,” he praises gently. “Did so good.”

“Shut up,” you huff.

He laughs, and despite yourself, heat floods your body, throbs between your thighs. His words caress a deep, carnal animal inside of you, and the hunger takes over.

You frantically pull at his shirt until he has to tell you to slow down, and takes it off himself. Your hands run along his chest and stomach the moment they’re able to and down to the waistband of his sweats. You palm his hardening cock through the soft, gray fabric. Joel groans deep and heavy, his lashes fluttering as he stares you down. His hips thrust into your palm automatically. Involuntarily.

God, that makes you light up like a firefly. Makes your nerves sing and your cunt flutter and your mind go numb.

He tugs down your shorts and underwear and sets you on top of the granite, but before he can strip the underwear from your ankle to no doubt pocket this pair like he did the other, you flick it off your foot across the kitchen. It lands somewhere near the door to the dining room.

He can’t steal all your underwear, or you’ll have none left.

“I wanted those,” he drawls, expression on the edge of a pout.

“Yeah, well I need them. It’s not common to come across a good pair of panties in this world.”

“But I’d give ‘em back.” He’s full on pouting now. It is, unfortunately, very cute, but you’re used to it.

“Sure… like the pair you took from me the other night that I have yet to receive.”

“How else am I supposed to get you to come over?”

“I dunno? Maybe ask?”

“Should I leave a note on your door? Is that good enough for you?”

“At least be classy. A letter delivered in my mailbox with a wax stamp, please.”

He laughs. “As you wish, Princess.”

He finally peels off his sweatpants, free of underwear beneath them, and you watch with barely concealed hunger as his cock springs free.

And while you like the idea of him fucking you on the counter, you’d much rather him fuck you against the counter, so you hop down and turn so your back faces him. Your hands curl around the granite lip of the counter top, and you push your ass out and back, peering at him over your shoulder.

This way, it’s easier for him not to kiss you. Easier for you to turn your head and deny your lips to him.

“Look at you…” Joel hums appreciatively at your show, at the wiggle of your hips as his palm smooths down your back and over your ass, squeezing at the plump flesh.

You moan quietly, and Joel’s eyes darken, watching you intently like you’re the only thing in the room.

His fingers drift down to your cunt and your slickness coats his fingers fully. You’re so wet for him. So ready for him to bury himself inside you and call you his.

It’s funny, you’ve lost all your heat from a few nights ago. All your sharp edged words. Now, you’re soft and pliant.

He swirls his soaked index and middle fingers along your clit, punctuating your sensitivity, before sliding them back inside you to the knuckle. You keen and push back, desperate for more. His fingers are so much longer than yours, thicker, and yet you crave more.

“That’s it, Joel,” you huff. “Fuck, feels so good. Need more.”

“Yeah? Tell me what you need, baby girl.”

Shame lights your cheeks, but you push down the embarrassment. “Need…need your cock inside me.”

He lays a kiss on your neck. “Still a bit desperate aren’t we?”

“You’re the desperate one, Mr. Panty Stealer. You’re a fucking creep.”

He chuckles against your neck, but he squeezes your ass in retaliation. “Be nice, would you?”

“You like it when I’m mean.”

“Wanna see how much I like it?”

“If you’re willing to show me and get on with this, sure.”

He huffs in amused frustration. “God, you’re annoyin’.”

You just smile innocently at him.

Your legs tremble, slick running down your thighs when Joel pulls his fingers out. He replaces them with the hardness of his cock, of which he runs along your wetness, readying himself.

“I think ‘bout you way too much,” he says into your back, pressing a gentle kiss there. “D’ya think ‘bout me too?”

It’s an odd question. One you’re not expecting. One that has your heart stuttering in quiet confusion from this sudden switch in tone.

“Of course I do.” Obviously. You told him as much. Three weeks. Three weeks you thought about him.

“Good… wanna be the only thing on your mind.”

A high pitched keen hisses through your teeth as Joel eases himself inside you with a long, slow stroke and a low moan. Your fingers white knuckle the countertop, gripping it tightly.

He presses in close, burying himself all the way in before he withdraws slowly, his cock sliding inside you torturously.

“Joel,” you moan.

“I know, baby.” He presses kisses to your shoulders.

Joel’s hand gravitates to the back of your knee, and he slowly pushes up to lift your leg until your knee is resting on the counter.

And then… with this new angle…he starts fucking you in earnest.

His hips snap against your ass, the sound deafening in the kitchen, and you crumple against the granite with a moan.

“Shit,” Joel grunts. “Yeah.”

Each of his heavy thrusts punches the air from your lungs, and your fingers slip on the countertop, scrabbling for purchase every chance you can get. He’s hot, thick inside you, warm as he folds over you, his hand on your tummy holding you upright, the other keeping your leg up to continue hitting you at that pleasant, delicious angle.

“H-holy shit—oh—“

He breathes heavily at your neck, low grunts and moans escaping his lips from his efforts. “Could spend eternity inside you, darlin’. Fuck, you’re mine.”

Your heart stutters, the words uttered in a lust filled craze, likely meaning nothing. But to your traitorous brain, to the hope lingering in your chest like a persistent cough, they mean everything.

“All…” you’re losing your train of thought, fucked into blissful nothingness. “All yours, Joel.”

It’s too difficult for him to kiss you from this angle, which you’re relieved about. But a part of you longs for it, longs for the feel of his mouth moving against yours.

Joel’s strong arm wraps around your chest, and pulls you up so you’re flush against his back as he pounds up and into you. Keens and whimpers and breathless pants escape you with every thrust.

“Please, Joel,” you cry, tears pricking at the edges of your swirling vision.

“What, baby?” He huffs. “Need’a come?”

You nod crazily. “Yes—need to—“

“Shhh okay… I’ve got you,” he murmurs gently, the hand wrapped around your tummy inching down to circle at your clit steadily.

Your legs buckle beneath you but Joel keeps you upright as the pleasure soars through you, sudden and strong. He strokes you through it, groaning praises into your ear before he comes inside you a moment later.

The two of you hiss in tandem when he pulls out, but he smothers it when he lays his mouth over yours. You’re hardly coherent enough to remember your rule, and for a moment you let him kiss you. You kiss him back, chasing the heat of his mouth with your own, moaning against his lips when his tongue dips into your mouth.

Then, you remember.

You pull back panting, cheeks a flame, “Joel.”

“Hm?” He murmurs, dragging his lips down your jaw before moving back up to pull you into another kiss. You move away before he can. His brows furrow in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t… I don’t think we should kiss anymore.”

He blinks. “What? Why?”

Your eyes flit across the kitchen, catching on labeled jars and wooden spoons and spices, anything but his own. “It’s too intimate.”

It’s a lame excuse. Joel sees through it immediately.

“And my cock inside you ain’t?”

You sigh heavily, avoiding eye contact. “It’s different.”

“How? Enlighten me.” His tone has gone rougher. Hurt swirls in his eyes, and you feel worse than you did the other night.

Because you and I are friends. Because I don’t think I can pretend like that’s the truth when all I want is to call you mine. Because when I kiss you it’s like my world finally starts to make sense.

“Please, Joel. Just…I don’t want to do it anymore. Can you respect that, please?”

He runs a hand down his beard, his hurt expression hardening into a stoic one you haven’t been on the receiving end of in years. Fuck. “Alright, I’m sorry. I won’t kiss you anymore.”

You expect relief but all that comes is a deep longing and sadness that you try to push to the depths of your conscience. Though, like a buoy, it keeps popping above the surface.

“Thanks,” you say quietly.

The cleanup is awkward. He watches you silently as you pick up your underwear and slide them and your shorts back on. He seems far away, here and gone all at once. It makes you worry, makes you wonder if what you just said was the biggest mistake of your life.

But you have to do this. You have to hold him at arm's length because if you admit to him…if you tell him how you really feel… maybe he really will leave you. He’ll realize you’ve gone and fucked everything up, and the friendship you’ve kindled, the trust you’ve built, will all be for nothing.

You can’t lose him, even if it means you can’t keep him close.

“Thanks for tonight,” you say eventually, when he’s walking you out the front door.

He smiles at you, faint and untrue. It’s like the one from the other night. Like that laugh he forced out for you. You feel like a Joel from the past has teleported to the present, with his thin smile and his hard eyes. “Yeah, of course.”

“You okay?”

Joel frowns, shifts on his feet. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I dunno. You just seem… I don’t know. Never mind.”

“I’m good.”

“You sure?”

He nods. “You need me to walk you home?”

“No, I’ll be okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you hum. A moth circles the porch light. The two of you stare at each other for a long moment. He looks as if he wants to say something, but thinks better of it.

“Okay,” is all that he says.

“Okay,” you repeat, feeling empty. A waif, a lonely white flag waving in the wind. “Um, I’ll see you later, then.”

“Yeah, sounds good. Night, darlin’,” he says, squeezing your arm, like he’s trying to be normal. It doesn’t work. His hand is cold. “Sweet dreams.”

“Night, Joel.”

It’s raining by the time you reach your house, and you curl under your blankets after a shower, your hair cold and wet against your scalp, listening to the droplets splattering against your window.

Sleep doesn’t come easy.

part 3

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #tlou #game joel miller #pedro pascal #the last of us #joel miller #this is trouble

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oneshlut · 6 months

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AHHHHH, YOU WRITE FOR VARIAN??? It's so hard to find anyone who does that- could you possibly write hcs for dating him?

A/N: EEEEK!!! yesyes, varian's one of my favs to write for!!!! i may have a thing for dorks,, ty SOSO much for the request, this was so much fun to write for! (for my followers, or just any1 else.. KEEP REQUESTING VARIAN)

Explosive Heartbeat (Varian x Reader) [Headcanons]

Rules For Requesting

Characters I Will Write For

Masterlist

Summary: General dating/relationship headcanons for Varian

As friends, you're kinda like nerd buddies! Varian would rant to you on and on when you visited him in his lab. After a bit, Ruddiger seemed to grow affectionate towards you, so you kept visiting. You'd help him with his experiments sometimes, but you'd mainly hang out with Ruddiger, reading a book somewhere. The two of you grew close! And.. Varian found himself hoping you'd visit more and more.

As partners? Well, Varian doesn't change much, but he definitely becomes a lot more awkward. He tries at romantic advances, but.. they don't turn out well. While dating him, expect lots of dorky, unsuccessful flirting attempts.

He tries for you, though! Varian doesn't know much about romance, other than how to artificially create it. Which he.. hasn't figured out how to do yet. At least he has a natural source, now. He finds himself relating to a lot more.. lovey-dovey things, that he'd normally never understand. In a way, you opened his eyes to love. All of these emotions, suddenly exploding inside of him--all because of you. Sweet, huh?

Varian often finds himself distracted when you visit. He hardly gets any work done because you're there.. which is partly his fault, for looking at you every 20 seconds. He's grown a love-hate relationship to you visiting. Mainly "love", though.

After you leave, he immediately groans, thinking of all the things he did wrong around you. You can find him ranting to Ruddiger afterwards, mainly complaining about the way you made him feel. Not the way you made him feel, but rather the way you made him act. He feels a fool around you.. and wonders why you even love him back.

Ruddiger isn't gonna stand for that bullcrap. This little rat rascal bites Varian to snap him out of it. Once he gets over his self-concious arc, Varian finds himself smitten. Sometimes he becomes a blushing mess just thinking about you. Now he's tripping over his own feet, (with as awkward as he is), and Ruddiger feels as if he's made him even worse.

About the failed flirtings. They're hysterical. But, talking about some things that actually land in your relationship, are nicknames. For him, you range from Var, nerd, V, to some of the more romantic ones, like "hun". He seems to get flustered at that one. As for romantic nicknames for you? He.. well, he tries. In turn, Varian also uses hun or honey, seeing as they're the most comfortable, but he doesn't use them often. Either calls you by your initial (if it works), or just some inside joke like "geek" or "smart-alec"

Surprisingly, or maybe not, Varian's an absolute sucker for PDA. Him, being the dork he is, will explain to you the physical benefits on the human mind to hugs and physical affection--and when you actually hug him, he'll freeze. He's grown used to your touch, though, and finds himself hugging back most of time time, if you don't startle him. If anything, he loves to hold your hand. If he's opened up enough, he'll let you hold his hand without his gloves.. may not happen often, though. But yes, anywhere you're going, Varian's holding your hand. No way around it.

Sometimes you'd fall asleep at his lab, most likely with a book in your hand, and it's the most adorable thing he's seen. Theres an 89% chance that Ruddiger's there, snuggled up next to you. Varian makes sure to wake you up before it gets late.. on your busy days. If he knows you have nothing to do in the morning.. he'll leave you be to sleep till morning. He knows you need the rest, and you looked too cute peaceful to wake up now. (This situation can go for Varian aswell, especially if he spends nights awake working on experimenting)

As for dates, you two would have many home-dates, but if you're going anywhere, you're going to the library! Despite the location being extremely tame, he still feels nervous asking you out. Corona's libraries were always quiet and peaceful, and the best place for Varian to nerd out to you about any chemistry books that they happened to have. Either this, or a field somewhere out in Old Corona. Exploring dates were fun aswell, where one of you would take a backpack and just wander around the forests, chatting about any little thing that comes to your mind. If nowhere else--Monty's sweet shop, if it's a special day of sorts, like the Day of Hearts.

Oh, how could I forget? The Day of Hearts was always a holiday that Varian would pass over, seeing as he had more important things to do than indulge himself in romance with.. himself only. So when you reminded him about it, he almost spit out his hot cocoa. And if he was being completely honest, he most definitely forgot about it. Feels slightly ashamed, but now excited for the holiday! Excited to spend it with you, mainly.. And of course, you sign the journal together. Varian's still a nervous wreck, so his signature was a bit more shaky than he'd like it to be. It was the thought that counted.. right? If you stumble into Rapunzel and Eugene at the festival, expect lots of adoring coo-ing from Rapunzel and relentless teasing from Eugene. He's still as dorky and sarcastic as ever when confronted with the teasing, but the fit of flushed red on his face gave away everything you needed to know.

But Rapunzel's right. The two of you are extremely cute together, you even look like you were made for each other! The simple thought of that makes Varian want to faint, but he'll come to terms with it eventually. Just know that romance is definitely not his strong suit, but he managed to not draw you away, so he's gotta be doing something. Otherwise, Varian stays his loveable, dorky, sarcastic self. But now, with just a little bit more of hand holding.

And you did sign the Day of Hearts journal together, so if that doesn't give you a telltale sign of where your relationship is going, I don't know what will.

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peachhcs · 1 year

Text

The 5 times Neteyam loved you and the 1 time he said it.

Neteyam x fem!reader

Word count: 15.6k 😳

Summary: pretty self explanatory I think, but the 5 times Neteyam loved you and the 1 time he finally said it 😌

Warnings: near character death, talk of absent parents, gun & knife violence, blood

ITS FINALLY HERE!! THE LONG AWAITED 15k+ fic I took like a week to write 😭 This is cliche but I haven’t seen anyone else do this prompt before. I listened to the people and put this into one large fic, so I hope y’all like it!! The ending is..a little rocky, but it’s what you get after forcing myself to finish this. There is a prologue in this & I wasn’t originally going to include it, but I liked it too much to delete it from the story LOL

If you guys want a Lo’ak version, I have one in the drafts, but idk if that is something y’all want. My requests for fic ideas are open, so send some in if y’all want! Thanks for all the love!! (ps, not quite proof read so if there’s some spelling or grammatical errors my apologies)

MASTERLIST

PROLOGUE.

It was no doubt that you were an extreme pleaser. Growing up as the eldest sibling to your parent’s five, it was your job to stay in line. Set the example. Follow the rules. Be the golden child. It was the whole reason why you and Neteyam bonded so quickly when you met.

He knew how it felt to be the perfect one. You both carried the same burden, the same pressure, the same expectations set by your parents. All you wanted was to please them and get the praise you desperately craved.

You saw Neteyam for a few weeks now. It started one day in the woods when you were out exploring. Foana and Ni`awtu insisted going out into the forest. You knew being the eldest that you couldn’t possibly leave them to their own devices, so you reluctantly followed after them.

That same afternoon, the Sully kids decided embarking on their own expedition. The clan was so large and spread out in nearly every part of the forest that you hardly knew every single person. You knew of the Sully children and their great father Jake, the Olo’eyktan and Toruk Makto, however you did not know them.

Everything changed for you and your siblings that afternoon when Foana wandered off. You had no idea that a certain Sully boy would change the entire trajectory of your life that day.

You were distracted with admiring the beautiful flora that you didn’t even realize your younger sister disappeared. A tiny tug on your tail made you spin around, hissing at Ni`awtu standing shyly behind you.

“Ni, what do you want?” You answered annoyed that she interrupted your gazing. Seeing her little worried features made you scrap any annoyance you ever possessed in the first place.

“It is Foana. I do not know where she went.” The fear laced through the young girl’s voice. Your eyes shot up, now realizing that the youngest sibling was no longer around the two of you.

To make matters even worse, you only brought your knife with you expecting a quick and short trip.

“Ni`awtu, you were supposed to be watching her at all times. Argh.” You pushed past her, beginning to sniff out any possible trails Foana may wandered off on.

“I am sorry, sister. I swear, I thought she was right behind me.” The familiar wobble of Ni’s voice and her trembling hands told you she was close to tears. Sighing, you collected her into your arms.

“Do not worry, it is not your fault. We will find her.” Being the eldest meant you could not be mad at your little siblings for long. You also could not let them take the blame for things—even if it was their fault at times. That was just what came with growing up as the eldest. You took nearly all the blame.

The two of you walked the tree lines, scanning every possible inch for that little rascal. She hardly knew the forest like you, so she couldn’t have been too far. If anything, she was probably cowering underneath a leaf or behind a tree because she did not know where she was anymore.

Your ears perked up when you heard voices ahead. In a quick maneuver, you shoved your sister behind you incase it was a threat. Not many from your clan ventured this far out into the forest by the old shack. It was forbidden by the Olo’eyktan—so whoever was ahead couldn’t possibly be Na’vi.

There was a tiny laugh, though. It caught you off guard and your defenses fell for just a moment. There came another laugh, louder and one you recognized this time.

“Foana.” You muttered and ran ahead through the brush.

When you came through clearing, you grew surprised seeing your little sister playing around with another younger Na’vi girl.

“Y/N, look! I made a friend!” Little Foana sensed your presence and motioned towards the other little girl. She smiled up at you with a toothy grin.

“Foana, what in Eywa are you doing all the way out here? You do not wander away from me or your sister.” Your mom voice came out, loud and booming. The little one looked down in shame realizing she was in trouble.

“I am sorry, sister. I did not mean to. I just..I saw a flying lizard and had to follow it. I found her on the way.” She stuck out a thumb at other girl. Another sigh escaped your lips knowing she must’ve also strayed off her path and probably had people looking for her as well.

“Tuk! There you are! Why did you wander off?” A new voice entered the scene. She raced past you, scooping up the girl in her arms.

“Sorry, Kiri. I found a friend, though.” Tuk pointed at your sister who gave a similar toothy grin and a wave.

“It is okay, sister. Just make sure you tell someone next time, okay? Neteyam, I found her, it is okay.” You didn’t realized there was entire group behind you now. Two boys, no three boys, stood behind you. Two Na’vi and the singular human boy you knew lived around here.

“Tuk, I told you to keep up with us.” The shorter Na’vi boy went past you to ruffle up her little braids.

You hadn’t moved a single muscle since their sudden arrival. You were too awestruck in the way they comforted the girl. Neither of them showed any signs of anger or annoyance that she wandered off. It was so unfamiliar to you—all of that sincerity and comfort to one another.

“Oh, please excuse us. I am so sorry. I am Kiri. This is Tuk, Lo’ak, Neteyam, and Spider behind you.” The girl that came in first finally acknowledged your presence with a warm smile as she introduced what must’ve been her siblings.

“Oh, no need for apologies. I am Y/N. This is Ni`awtu and Foana.” You did a bow of greeting which your sisters quickly followed after.

“It seems as though our sisters have befriended one another. We were so worried when we realized she had wandered off.” Kiri laughed and pinched Tuk’s little nose. You smiled at the affection.

“Yes, us too. I was glad I found them both unharmed.” You pulled your sisters closer, trying to show a tiny bit of affection like the other siblings displayed.

“Let’s just be glad we didn’t need to call dad in. He would have beaten our asses if we told him we lost Tuk.” Lo’ak laughed and then his older brother smacked him on the head. The unfamiliar terms and use of some English words intrigued you. Not many Na’vi knew English besides the Olo’eyktan—obviously being from the sky.

You began putting two and two together. The five fingers of Lo’ak and Kiri. Lo’ak’s use of English phrases you didn’t quite understand. These were the Sully children. The Olo’eyktan’s kids.

“Oh my Eywa, I am sorry. You are children of the Olo’eyktan. It is a pleasure to meet you.” You rushed out, flushed you had not picked up on it beforehand. You bowed again, urging your sisters to do the same.

“Woah, we’ve never been greeted like that before.” Lo’ak snickered and the older boy hit his head again.

“Lo’ak, stop it. Do not apologize. We are Omatikaya as much as you are. It is really our father who gets bowed to.” The older one spoke to you in a kind tone that had your face heating up in a way it had never done before.

“Well, it is still a great pleasure to meet all of you.” He grinned at you. There was something igniting inside of you just looking at his smile. Something you had never felt before.

“Can Foana and I have a playdate sometime?” Tuk spoke to you, her little voice adorable as ever. However, you were unfamiliar with the term she used.

“Playdate means like a hang out.” Kiri must’ve seen your confusion. You quickly nodded.

“Of course, anytime as long as neither of you wander off again.” You joked some, smiling down at your little sister. She grinned excitedly.

“Perfect, you may bring her over anytime or we can bring Tuk over. She has been so excited to start making new friends ever since our parents allowed her to go out more.” Kiri was so soft spoken and so gentle. Her presence alone just made you feel so warm and welcomed.

“You could bring your other siblings, too. You have two others, right?” Lo’ak spoke up more. You quickly nodded, a bit surprised he even knew that. It wasn’t like your family was well known like they were.

“Tsanten and Naria.” You did not miss the way Lo’ak’s face blushed at the mention of Naria.

“Well, bring them all and even yourself, we love the company.” Kiri beamed and you couldn’t help but smile yourself.

You hardly received invitations out often. You were always busy taking care of your siblings, cleaning up, staying in, following your parents’ orders. It didn’t leave much room for fun and going out.

Neteyam was still glancing in your direction. He just couldn’t seem to pull his eyes away from your pretty hair flowing loosely down your back, or the way your eyes lit up when Kiri extended the invitation to you and the rest of your siblings.

He knew of your family through passing here and there. You were the eldest, just like him, yet he never saw you out much. Either you were hidden away in your tent, or out hunting. He knew you were a hunter because Beyral spoke of your name often.

You intrigued him. He liked the way the confusion floated over your face when Lo’ak or Tuk used phrases you didn’t understand. He liked the protective nature you held over every single one of your siblings—similar to him. How you held them close to you. He wanted to know more about you. He wanted to make you smile again because it sent an unfamiliar feeling of butterflies in his stomach that he enjoyed.

He wanted more of you. If only the two of you knew what your future held.

ONE.

Neteyam was protective over everything in his life—his parents, his siblings, and now you. Being the eldest, especially to the Olo’eyktan, it was his job becoming the protector when his father wasn’t there.

He fought off anyone who poked fun at Lo’ak or Kiri for having five fingers. He made sure someone was with Tuk at all times when she went out to the forest. He helped his mother anytime she asked whether it was with food or his siblings.

There was no denying how similar the two of you were. It was what drew him to you. You held the same protective nature as him. You took care of your siblings the same way he did. You understood the burdens he carried because you held them high on your shoulders as well.

It was when the two of you were together that he could let go of everything, even if it was just for a little bit. When the day was done and everyone was sound asleep for the night, tucked safely into their tents was when the two of you snuck out to spend time together.

It was more of a private relationship for the time being. Being the next Olo’eyktan in line, Neteyam knew that if he told people he was seeing someone it would spread like wildfire across the village. People would start talking and they probably wouldn’t ever leave you alone once the word was out. He wasn’t sure if you wanted that on top of everything else and if he was being honest, he wanted you to himself just a little while longer.

His feet worked quickly jumping from tree branch to tree branch. The luminescent forest was his guiding light through the night and he took one final swing to his destination. When he got his footing, there you were right where you met almost every night.

Your back was slumped against the tree and you hadn’t noticed him yet, instead, your gaze was focused on the glimmering stars above. Every time, Neteyam was so in awe of you. He knew how stressed you were throughout the day having to do this and that, so seeing you here waiting for him in the most relaxed state gave him a sense of pride.

“Oh, hi.” You finally noticed his looming presence. The boy grinned, walking towards you.

“Hi, sorry I am late. I had to make sure Tuk was truly asleep for the night.” The sound of your laugh made his heart swell in his chest. He snuggled himself in beside you with his head resting on your stomach.

When you put your hands across his back, all of his muscles finally relaxed. The stress slowly dissipated and everything felt right being in your arms. During the day, he was a leader who held no fear. At night when he was with you like this, none of that mattered. He didn’t have to put on the facade for you.

“She never falls asleep on time. I think she is afraid she will miss out on something. Foana is the same way.” He hummed when he felt your other hand begin brushing through his braids.

“That explains why she is always following Lo’ak and Kiri around.” Your stomach rumbled with laughter again and the vibrations were so calming to Neteyam. If he could, he would have your laugh on repeat.

“Your training, how did that go today?” Another thing Neteyam adored about you was how you never failed to ask him about his day. Any detail he told you, you remembered and talked about it the next night. He had never been listened to like that before. It made everything inside of him feel warm and appreciated like he had a purpose.

“It was okay. I think dad is getting mad at me because I can not seem to understand things as fast as he wants me to.” Neteyam sat himself up so he could look at you properly. His back fell against the tree in the same way yours did, still keeping your bodies close.

“You will get it, do not worry. It takes time learning all the ways of the Olo’eyktan. Your father probably struggled as much as you did once.” You clutched his bicep to give it a comforting squeeze. Neteyam’s gaze fell away to the sky, though. His mind beginning to turn elsewhere.

“Yes, but he was already strong when he fell into the position. He was an adult already. I am merely a teenager still.” He heard you scoff beside him.

“You are just as strong, Neteyam. Do not tell yourself you are not. You are learning and your father just wants what is best for you.” You always knew what to say to him to make him feel better. His gaze finally fell back to you, your gentle gaze making his face blush.

“I think my parents are catching up to the fact that I may be seeing someone.” You giggled, looking away as you changed subjects. Neteyam, however, stiffened up at your words.

“What do you say?”

“Well, I just laugh it off and say I am not. They do not ask much more after that.” He could not read your expression because you weren’t looking at him. He didn’t know if you were upset you had to deny it or something entirely different.

He certainly wished he didn’t have to be so private about his personal life, but he was afraid his mother wound disapprove—not that there was anything to disapprove of you. It was mostly the others in the clan. People would start talking. They would start seeking you out. You would have to start learning the ways of Tsahik, maybe (Hopefully in his mind). He wanted to make sure you were completely comfortable to be put into such a spotlight like he was before anything was really said about the two of you.

“Neteyam? Are you alright?” Your voice snapped him from his thoughts. You were already looking at him when he met your pretty golden eyes.

“Yes, sorry. I was lost in thought.” He gave you a gentle smile to reassure you.

“About what?” You loved to pick his brain though. His expression twisted and he found the need to place his arm around you and pull you closer towards him. Your head fell absently against his chest.

“It is not important.” He had this thing where he would sometimes hide his emotions from you. He did not want to burden you with this one right now.

“I feel like it is, though. I will not make you tell me, but you can if you want to.” Another feature he absolutely adored about you. You never pried, but made it known that he could tell you anything. He squeezed you a tiny bit closer as if there was anymore space left between you two.

“Are-are you..upset that our relationship is not..for the entire clan to know?” He blurted and then avoided your gaze so he wouldn’t see your expression.

“No, not necessarily. I like the privacy.” You answered honestly, but Neteyam wasn’t sure if he believed it yet or not.

“Are you lying?” You sat up more to look at him. He was gnawing at his lip, worried that you were lying.

If he could give you the world, he would. He wanted to give you everything. He wanted to show you off and take you on dates that weren’t in the dark. He wanted to hold your hand and kiss you in front of people so they knew you were his. However, he could not do any of that in fear that someone would be mean to you or say rude things. The entire clan was kind, but there were few who said things when they did not approve. Neteyam only knew because he heard the things people said about his father when he became Olo’eyktan.

He is demon blood. How would he know how to lead a clan?

Can we really trust him with our people?

What does she see in him?

Those children, they are demon blood. Five fingers.

They are not true Na’vi.

He could only imagine the things they could say when he announced his possible chosen woman. He wanted to keep you out of that. He wanted to protect you from it as much as he could.

“No, I am not lying. Why would I lie?” You gave a small chuckle; however, Neteyam was still not eased.

“Right, sorry. You would not lie about that.” He looked down, embarrassed he even thought you would lie to him. A gentle hand cupped his face and directed his attention back to you.

“What is going on in that head of yours? Tell me, it seems to be bothering you.” You observed his entire face and Neteyam was flushing under your intense stare.

He took your hands in his, squeezing gently and blowing out a long breath.

“I want to give you the world, but I can not. I only do not tell people about our relationship because I am afraid they will say things we do not like. I do not want them to hurt you and say things like they do about my father and mother. That is the only reason I have kept us from them. Not because I am embarrassed or anything of you.” Neteyam spilled his entire heart to you right then and there. He watched your face for a reaction and subconsciously prepared for a negative one.

Instead, you just grinned and stroked his hand with your thumb.

“I did not think you were embarrassed of me. I know you have a lot on your mind all the time. You do not need to explain yourself to me. I do not mind keeping our relationship private.” Your head tilted to the side, still grinning.

“I just want to make sure you are completely ready to have every eye on our relationship when and if we tell people. It is a lot of pressure and people will be talking. I do not want to just push you into that if you are not ready.” Neteyam continued.

“I am ready whenever you are ready. You worry too much about me.” You laughed and Neteyam’s head fell against your chest. You cradled the back of his head with a smile.

“So you are sure you are ready to handle it? You can tell me no.” He looked back up at you, scanning your face for any possible secret resentment you weren’t telling him.

“You forget I have thick skin. I grew up with parents who were perfecting my every move. If I can take them, I think I can handle being your girlfriend in public.”

It was then that Neteyam knew you were it for him. You held no fear in your eyes that he seemed to be harboring deep down in his depths. You were ready to be by his side under any circumstance.

He brought your face into his hands so he could pull you forward for a kiss. It was everything he could not say and everything he wanted you to know. The night was young and so were you two in that moment.

TWO.

Tonight was a big night as Neteyam ran around the hut like some mad person. He was shoving Tuk’s toys away, cleaning every single space, forcing his family to be on their best behavior—especially Lo’ak.

You were joining his family for dinner so they could properly meet you. Despite all of his siblings already knowing you, it was his parents who did not have much knowledge about you. It was mostly just name in passing, but one they never asked much about.

When Neteyam told his parents he was even seeing someone in the first place, their reactions were pretty priceless.

“Hey, mom, dad?” The eldest Sully walked into their hut while his parents worked away at their own separate projects. They turned his way at the sound of his voice.

“Yes, what it is ma son?” Neytiri questioned. The boy was flushed and picking at his fingers, unsure of how to even approach the subject.

It wasn’t that his parents were against him dating around, but he had never shown much interest beforehand, so he wasn’t sure how they were going to react now.

“I..I um-well, you see, I met this girl a few weeks ago. She is very kind, strong, intelligent, a hunter. I-I would like you to meet her one night over a dinner, maybe?” He carefully watched for their reactions.

His mother, wide-eyed, looked over at her husband. They exchanged a few glances, probably speaking with their eyes, but Neteyam had no idea what they were silently saying. He worried it was bad things.

“Oh! Yes, yes, of course. We would love to meet this girl. Who is she? Is she Omatikaya? Does she live around here?” His mother stood, embracing him while asking the hundred questions she had. His father sat back with a tiny, proud smile on his lips.

“Her name is Y/n. She is just a few huts down. She is a great hunter and warrior. Beyral speaks of her sometimes.” Neteyam explained your background as best as he could. Both of his parents were beaming widely.

“Yes, I have heard that name a few times before. She sounds wonderful, I am so excited to meet her. I had no idea you were seeing someone.” Neytiri was the most enthusiastic for her eldest. He had nearly reached all of his requirements that would make him one of the People and it was only a matter of time before he would begin looking for a future mate.

Tuk went on all day about her excitement that you would be joining them tonight. Neytiri worked all day preparing a great meal with the help of Kiri.

“Bro, I can’t believe you never told us about dating around with Y/n.” Lo’ak snickered as he helped with some of the cleaning. He earned a slap on his head for that comment.

“Well, it was not much of your business, was it?” Neteyam retorted and the younger brother only shrugged.

“I knew you were sneaking out late at night. I could just never have proof.” Another snicker and another slap. Lo’ak finally let up on his annoying teasing.

“Tuk!!” A little scream broke the boys from their conversation. Nearly everyone in the hut looked over to see a little Na’vi girl run in. Tuk was smiling widely, bringing her friend in for a hug.

“Foana! What did I say?—“ Suddenly, you appeared, grabbing at your youngest sister. Neteyam noticed your other three siblings just behind you. You met his eyes before darting them over to his parents who were glancing your way. Your entire face flushed.

“I am so sorry. Foana begged me to bring her to say hello to Tuk and then..well, I could not leave everyone else out.” You quickly explained yourself in small embarrassment. Neteyam rushed to greet you.

“Tsanten, Naria, what’s up?” Lo’ak happily got up to greet your other siblings. Ni`awtu stood shyly behind your back.

“I am so sorry for them.” You whispered to Neteyam when he was close enough. He only grinned.

“Do not apologize.” He kissed your cheek and then stepped aside for his mother who approached.

“It is nice to finally meet you, Y/n. I have heard many things.” Neteyam watched the exchange, still a tiny bit nervous for his parents approval of you. You smiled, nerves also evident behind your eyes.

“It is so nice to meet you as well, Mrs. Sully. I have heard so many things about you.” You bowed your head using the I see you gesture.

“Please, call me Neytiri. It is so nice to meet all of your siblings, as well.” She grinned again at the other little kids talking with her own children.

“Oh, thank you. They will not be staying, they just begged me to bring them to say hello.” You rushed out, eyeing each one of them to make sure they were being well-behaved in the home of the Olo’eyktan.

“Oh please, we have so much food. They can stay.” Your eyes shot to Neteyam. He only gave you a small shrug, ultimately it being your decision. He figured it would be easier to get your siblings’ introductions out of the way now too.

“Oh, no, you do not have to do that.” You shook your head, but Neytiri was persistent.

“It is no trouble. I insist.” She gently touched your arm. Neteyam could tell you were not used to such hospitality. He also touched your arm and you glanced his way. He nodded, saying if his mother thought it was okay, then it was okay for them to stay.

If anything, it would hopefully keep Lo’ak out of trouble or saying things he shouldn’t if he had other people to talk to that he liked. That was Neteyam’s biggest concern of the night, really.

“Okay, thank you, really.” You thanked Neytiri by bowing your head once more. She grinned and then walked away.

Jake came next to greet you. Neteyam knew you were worrying about him more than anything. He was Olo’eyktan and Toruk Makto after all and it was the most important to get his approval.

“Hello, Y/n. I am glad to finally meet you.” You bowed to him which he did the same back.

“It is a pleasure to meet you.” Neteyam watched as you urged your siblings to bow before his father as well. They listened to you, doing as told.

You held such power over the little ones, but not in a bad way. Neteyam wondered if they listened to you more than your own parents. You had told him many stories of you becoming the main parent for your siblings growing up. Your parents were very absent. They were always on hunting trips, so it often left you caring for them. The eldest Sully could tell it wore you down—slumped shoulders, tired eyes, callouses on each of your hands, cuts, and bruises.

“Please, please, come in. Make yourselves at home. Our hut is your hut.” Jake ushered all of you in further. You smiled at him, not quite understanding the phrase, but you knew it was a kind one by his tone and expression.

“Y/n! Y/n! Guess what I did this week?” Tuk grabbed at your arm. You smiled down at her and crouched to her eye level.

“What did the mighty Tuk do this week?” Neteyam smiled at the way you ruffled up her hair.

“I caught my very first fish!” The little girl jumped up and down in excitement.

“That is amazing, Tuk! I am so proud of you!” You squeezed her tightly.

“Tell her how big it was.” Neteyam encouraged. His little sister held out her arms wider than herself. Your eyes widened.

“No way. That is bigger than you!” She giggled in excitement.

“I know! Everyone was so excited for me.”

“I certainly hope they were. That is a great accomplishment little Tuk.” You stood and Neteyam beamed at you. He saw your face flush a bit.

“You know she adores you, right?” He reached up to push some of your hair away from your eyes. You were wearing it loose like usual and some of it was pinned back with little petals hooked into it.

You blushed again. Neteyam loved how he could always make you blush like that.

The night went on just the way Neteyam planned. His parents asked you and your siblings many questions which you all happily answered. Just by the smiles and exchanges, Neteyam knew his parents loved you already which relieved him. He was worried something would go wrong. Lo’ak even managed to keep his comments to a minimal and mostly because he didn’t want to look like some fool in front of Naria.

Later, after helping his mom clean up, Neteyam went looking for you. He stopped short when he saw you sitting with Tuk, Foana, and Ni`awtu. You were playing some game with some sticks with them. There was a large smile on your face as you laughed at what Tuk would say. Even your sister, Ni`awtu, was smiling despite how shy she came off as.

Neteyam felt a hand come around his back. His mother appeared next to him, also watching the scene unfold. The sun began to set and eclipse was near. The forest was illuminating around you four. It was the prettiest sight Neteyam had ever seen—you with his little sister playing her games she always made up.

“She is a wonderful woman, Neteyam.” He smiled, glancing his mother’s way for a moment.

“So you like her?”

“We love her. If you do decide one day, she will make a great mate.” A small wave of relief washed through the older boy. He was so glad his parents approved of you.

Now it was just a matter of telling the rest of the clan. He knew most of them would be as supportive as his parents, but there was always the handful that had something to say. Neteyam would do his best to protect you from those who would say things.

Although, for now he would just enjoy the scene in front of him. He wanted to keep the warm feeling bubbling up in his chest for as long as possible. You were utterly perfect in his eyes.

“Neteyam! Come join us!” Tuk had noticed his presence. His mother squeezed his arm before letting him go. You made room for him to join the circle. The two of you exchanged a glance, knowing exactly what the other was saying.

You were definitely a keeper.

THREE.

Neteyam knew you were an excellent fighter. You were the best in the age group every time you went for trainings. He was always so in awe anytime he watched you skillfully use your bow and arrow to hit the targets on the ground from above. Or, your stealth as you dodged in and out of the trees. He knew he could never be as great of a fighter as you were.

However, with that also came the fear he held every time you left to go on missions. This one in particular was an especially dangerous one. His father appointed you to the head and it even shocked Neteyam a bit when he was told to hang back on this one but you were going.

You sat on the ground between his legs as he worked separate little braids into your hair for you. The only time you ever wore braids was for these missions or when you went hunting.

Neteyam did not want you to know he was worrying and playing every single worse case scenario in his head, so he kept quiet as his fingers worked quickly through your hair. However, his leg was bouncing right beside your head and that was hard for you to keep ignoring.

“Neteyam, are you alright?” You placed your hand over his knee. He realized it was bouncing and quickly stopped.

“Yes, I am fine.” You twisted your head around, pausing his braiding for a moment. The look on your face told him you didn’t believe him.

“Liar. What is wrong? Tell me.” You urged and Neteyam knew he couldn’t keep being quiet anymore.

“I am just worried is all. It always happens when you leave for missions like these.” He admitted, forcing a smile so you didn’t see all of his worry. You frowned a bit.

“You know you have nothing to worry about. I am a warrior. I always have been. When have I not come back from one of these?” Your tone was more of a “duh” tone. It didn’t ease Neteyam’s fear though.

“You never know what can happen, though.” He quickly make his defense. Instead of meeting your eyes, he just continued to work away at your hair.

“I suppose I do not, but you trust me, right? You trust your father. He would not send me into something dangerous.” Of course, Neteyam trusted both of you. It was the Sky People he had no trust in. He had seen them fight and the way they always had the upper hand with their crazy machine guns.

“Of course, but I am even not going. Is that not saying something?” He made a face and you were unsure what to say.

Neteyam finished off the last of your braids. The ends jingled together with the beads he added in. They were some of his own and he smiled at the fact that you two were going to match.

He turned you around and dipped his fingers into the bowl of paint beside his leg. You stayed still as he traced it around your face. He thought how jealous Lo’ak would be that you got to wear the war paint he didn’t on missions.

The two of you were silent. The feeling in the air changed ever since you didn’t know how to respond to Neteyam’s last statement.

You stood to look at yourself in the mirror when your face was done. The blue and yellow streaks went down your cheeks and around your eyes.

“Here, do not forget these.” Neteyam stood with your riding visor. He gently reached up to hook it around your ears.

You never flew with a riding visor, but then Neteyam made you one because he was worried about the wind drying out your eyes. You had happily accepted his very thoughtful gift and ever since then, you never rode without it.

“I am a warrior. I will make it back.” He felt comfort in the way you squeezed his arm. Your gaze was on him with a reassuring expression.

“I know you will. I just worry about you.” He cupped your face into his hands, bringing you towards him more.

“I have been doing this my whole life. I have my transmitter, too, so you will be able to listen in.” You placed the collar just above your necklaces and then hooked the earpiece into your ear. Neteyam remembered how thrilled you were when Jake gifted it you.

“We’re off in five minutes, everyone. Be ready!” Jake spoke through your ear. You glanced towards the opening where others headed out to their ikrans.

Neteyam brought your forehead against his. He closed his eyes, breathing you in and savoring every single detail about you just in case.

“Good luck. Be safe.” You smiled at his Earth phrases and brushed your hand along his cheek.

“I will see you soon.” He brought you in for one more kiss. His lips worked a bit rough like it was the last kiss he would give you. He was worrying that much.

You were the one to pull away, knowing you had to be out there very soon. He leaned into your touch when you kissed his cheek and then hurried out of his grasp. Neteyam hurried outside of your hut to watch you take off.

His dad took the lead as he dove off the cliff first. You were quick to follow, disappearing from his view almost immediately. Others in the clan who stayed behind clapped for the war party. Neteyam’s worry was only piling higher in his stomach, already anxiously awaiting your return.

—

Hours felt like days in his mind as he paced around his own hut. Tuk was in the corner playing with her toys and Kiri eyed on her older brother as he paced.

“Brother, you need to stop worrying so much. You know she will make it back. Y/n is very strong.” Kiri tried reassuring the anxious boy in front of her.

“I know, I know. This mission was a dangerous one, though. Dad did not even let Lo’ak and I go, yet he had Y/n go?” The logic still didn’t make much sense in Neteyam’s head. He wasn’t trying to discredit your abilities, but if you were going, he should’ve at least came along too.

“You have to remember that Y/n has been a warrior her whole life. Even when she was a kid. She was out hunting when she could walk. This is in her nature. Your father knows that and he knows she is a very useful asset to this mission.” His mother piped in from the other side of the hut. He didn’t even known she was listening to the conversation.

“Yeah, what mom said. She’s been fighting like this her whole life. She knows how to handle herself.” Kiri added on.

“Yeah, plus, she doesn’t always need you at her side and call.” Lo’ak had piped in now and Neteyam glared at him. Since when did his whole family become involved in this conversation.

“I am just trying to protect her.” He said in defense to what his younger brother said. Lo’ak just shrugged.

“Ma son, I know it is scary to not know what is happening, but we need to trust the Great Mother and everyone on that mission. They know what they are doing.” Neytiri squeezed Neteyam’s arm for comfort. The boy sighed, but nodded.

As if on cue, people started shouting outside of their hut. In the distance, ikran calls filled their ears. Neteyam instantly knew what that meant—the war party was returning. Everyone in the hut ran outside to greet them and check for any major injuries if any.

Jake’s ikran landed roughly atop the rocky cliff. You flew in not a moment later. The crowds were thick around the edge and it was hard to truly see what was going on. Being as tall as he was, Neteyam still could not see that well past the others trying to get a closer look.

He did not know where you were. You must have gotten down from your ikran, because it’s back was empty and there was no sign of you. Neteyam tried to push through some of the crowd, but it wasn’t much use because no one wanted to move.

“I heard it was bad. Many people were injured.”

“I can not believe he let that little girl go on such a dangerous mission.”

“This was one of their toughest missions yet.”

The words floated around his head as he heard people muttering to one another. He tried not to picture the worst for you. You had made it back, he knew that, but were you severely injured? Neteyam’s heart was practically beating a hole in his chest trying to find you.

Finally, he caught sight of some familiar braids and war paint near the edge of the crowd. He recognized Tsanten and Ni`awtu at your side hugging you.

“Y/n!” He finally was able to break out of the group. He hurried to you, joining in on your siblings’ group hug. He felt the way you clutched the back of his head with one hand and the other held onto his arm with a firm grip.

“Are you okay? Are you injured?” Neteyam pulled back to back to examine your face for any injuries.

Despite the minor cuts and scrapes, nothing looked too alarming to his knowledge. You had a pretty large gnash on your back, but it wasn’t bleeding out profusely or anything.

“No, I am not injured. Just scraped up.” You gave him a tiny smile. He was glad he got to see that again as he cupped your face and placed a quick peck onto your lips.

“Come on, I am sure Mo’at has medicine for these cuts.” You let Neteyam lead you away from the crowds and back to the huts. He sat you down on the ground and then disappeared to find his grandmother.

When he returned he had a handful of herbs, creams, oils, and bandages in his arms. You giggled at the sight.

“I did not think you were much of a healer.” He dropped everything at your side and then kneeled down to your level.

“Well my grandmother is the Tsahik after all. I happen to know one or two things.” Neteyam argued, his lips dancing with a tiny smile.

He gently worked to take your visor off and then wiped away the war paint. He knew you didn’t like to talk about the missions right away, so he enjoyed the comfortable silence between you two instead.

Neteyam’s hands were gentle as he rubbed the special herbs against your skin. You would occasionally hiss when it hurt a little bit more and he would mumble something about how he was almost done and you were doing so well.

He certainly wasn’t a healer like his grandmother or Kiri who had a special hand at medicine, but it meant a lot to both of you when he would heal your wounds for youor, when you would heal his after a long hunting day.

“Many, many people got hurt today.” You spoke after some silence. Neteyam hummed behind you.

“It was that bad?”

“Their machines are just so powerful. We are no match with our bows and arrows sometimes. They had to have known we were coming because they attacked back at us so harshly.” You shook your head some and Neteyam knew there was vivid images replaying in your mind.

“It is so hard to understand why they want us dead. If they were just a bit kinder then maybe there could be more peace worked out.” You continued on with your little rant, frustration becoming set in your body language. Your shoulders fell tense under the Sully boy’s hands.

“You know how hard they have tried with us. Someone always gets hurt. I suppose after all the failed efforts they have no other choice but violence, unfortunately.” Neteyam knew all about the schools his mother once attended in her earlier years. It seemed like the Sky People tried making an effort, but nothing ever held permanently.

“I know, it is just so frustrating. Tsanten and Naria are growing to that age where they will be old enough to go out on their own. I worry for them and what those demons could do to them.” A scowl sat on your face. Neteyam turned you around, cupping your face in his hands.

“I know how terrifying it can be. I worry for my siblings everyday, but you are very strong and you will be able to teach them well.” You smiled, but it didn’t stay for long as you casted your gaze away from him.

“I just wish I was not the one to always do it. My parents pay no attention to them anymore. They are always away. It should not be my job to teach my siblings every single life skill they will ever need.” You pushed yourself up from the ground, leaving Neteyam’s grasp.

He watched you wander to the entryway where you stared at the people moving about outside. Many were still tending to those who were wounded more worse than you.

Neteyam wasn’t a complete open book, but when he was with you, he felt comfortable enough to share the things bothering him the most. You, on the other hand, had a more harder time opening up to him. He knew you trusted him, but he couldn’t pull everything from you. He knew you parents were strict and absent people, always being away, which is why you held so much responsibility and burden. However, he didn’t know much more than that. You always closed it off.

Hearing what you were saying now, though, it was more than what you would usually say. Neteyam got up to join you at the entryway.

“You are right, it should not be your job, but unfortunately it is. You do a great job at teaching them and raising them.” His hand fell against your back. You leaned a tiny bit closer to him while your gaze was on Foana and Tuk a few feet away.

“I worry that they think I am too hard on them, but I am really just trying to help them survive on their own.” In that moment, Neteyam realized something. His whole life, his parents taught him how to hunt, fish, make kills, but their biggest motto was “Sully’s stick together.”

While yes, he was learning things on his own, he was also learning that he wouldn’t have to be alone because his family would always have his back. You did not have that.

You were the one who would always have your siblings’ back, but they wouldn’t always necessarily have yours. You were teaching them to survive on their own, not to depend on one another like he was taught growing up. Independence was a key feature of your family dynamic. Dependence was the key feature of his family dynamic.

“You are not too hard on them. You are doing what you know and hoping they will learn it too. It is a great feature to know you will always be dependable for them. However, you can always depend on me if you ever needed something.” You met his gaze and Neteyam smiled warmly at you.

“Your words are too kind. Thank you, my love.” Neteyam’s ears perked up. He had never heard that nickname before from you. You giggled upon seeing his surprised reaction.

“No, thank you, pretty girl.” He engulfed his arms around your shoulders to bring you into his chest. You chuckled and he knew you didn’t quite understand his nickname he gave you, but it didn’t matter.

He thought that maybe you going out on these missions weren’t so bad as long as he was the one to patch you up afterwards—and he always was going to be the one patching you up every. single. time.

FOUR.

Neteyam ventured out on a day-long hunting expedition with his father, brother, and even your own little brother. You remembered how excited Tsanten was when Jake approached him one night to ask if he wanted to tag along to get some pointers from the older guys.

It warmed your heart to see Neteyam’s family being so welcome to your own. Tsanten didn’t have your dad to take him out like this, so being able to finally go out was like a dream come true for him, especially with the Olo’eyktan.

You had a pretty slow day considering Neytiri decided to take Tuk, Kiri, and your other three sisters out for what she liked to call a “girls day.” She extended the invite to you, but you figured with everyone out of the hut was a great opportunity to get some cleaning done.

With a job that would usually take hours, it only took about two and you were done by noon. Toys were put away; the rug was cleaned; things were put back where they belonged—the entire hut looked spotless.

You ended up venturing over to the Sully residence to see if Neytiri and the girls returned yet. You thought it was empty approaching since it was practically silent until you saw Mo’at sitting near the back grinding some of her herbs together.

She caught your eye before you could walk away. You had never really spoken to the Tsahik before. Most times, you would send your siblings in if they had gotten hurt and waited outside for them. You knew she was a woman of few words despite being so highly respected within the clan.

You bowed to her.

“You must be Neteyam’s…oh what do they say..girlfriend?” The older woman cracked a tiny smile causing you to flush.

“I suppose so, yes. I apologize for interrupting you.” You nodded to her bowl of herbs. She waved you off though, beckoning you inside.

“I come here sometimes to get away when I want to be alone. There is always someone bursting into my hut needing fixing.” You smiled a bit, sitting down beside the older Na’vi.

“I understand. It is always nice to get away sometimes.” She smiled, glad you understood her.

You felt a bit strange being in Neteyam’s home without him there. Ever since the family dinner, you had only been over a handful of times, so being here alone with just his grandmother was definitely different. The usual organized chaos that filtered through his home was replaced with tranquility as the day grew shorter.

“You are a hunter and warrior correct?” Mo’at spoke up again. Flushing that she knew that about you, you nodded.

“Those are very useful skills to have as a Na’vi like you. I am impressed, especially with how much my grandson tells me about you.” She waved her finger around. You were sure that if Neteyam was here he would be embarrassed she had said that.

“Thank you, Mo’at. My parents grew up that way, so they raised me the same.” Your parents had always been die-hard warriors, so it was practically in all of your blood to become just like them one day.

“I do not see your parents around as often as I used to.” Who knew the Tsahik knew so much about your family. You scratched the back of your ear to find some excuse that didn’t sound horrible to tell her.

“They are always on hunting trips. They like to travel a lot.” Not a complete lie, but not exactly the entire truth.

“I see, I see. They always seemed to be very ambitious people.” You nodded. Yes, ambitious was certainly one way to describe them.

“It is mostly just my siblings and I around the hut. They like to take very long hunting trips.” Mo’at nodded once again.

“Yes, Neteyam says that you are the main caretaker of your siblings.” You flushed again. How much was Neteyam actually talking about you when you weren’t around? A lot, apparently.

“That task can be rather daunting, but he says you handle it very well. All of your siblings seem like very respectful people.” She continued before you could respond. You smiled. That compliment meant a lot coming from Tsahik of the village.

“Thank you, that means a lot coming from you.” She grinned at you while continuing to crush and grind away in her little bowl.

“Would you like to try?” She looked down at the bowl. You flushed realizing she was asking you to help grind up her herbs.

“Oh, sure.” She switched places with you and you began doing exactly what she had done. You crushed them down into tiny little bits and pieces.

“This could be your job one day.” Mo’at eyed you as she added in another handful. Your entire face deepened into a darker shade of blue.

“Oh..I do not know about that. Maybe?” You liked Neteyam a lot, but you two were teenagers still. His selection for a mate was still so far away and he would not become Olo’eyktan for quite some time.

“You like my grandson, no?” For a woman of few words, Mo’at seemed to have a lot to talk about with you.

“Yes, I do. He is a lovely young man.” You weren’t sure, but you thought you saw her grin from the corner of you eye.

“I do not know much about..what does Jakesully say..teenage love, but I know my grandson likes you a lot. He talks and talks about you so much. I know it can be scary stepping into that kind of love, but I usually do not steer wrong when I watch my children fall in love. I was not wrong about Jakesully and my daughter.” Hearing all of this coming from Tsahik meant so much to you. You held a lot of respect for the older Na’vi and now she was sitting beside you giving you advice about relationships like you were one of her own.

“Your hunting and warrior skills matched with your caretaking skills would make a wonderful Tsahik one day if that is what happens.” She squeezed your arm and everything in you felt so warm and comforted. No one had ever said things like that to you before and hearing it from Mo’at made it even more special.

“You are too kind. Thank you.” You flushed for the hundredth time in the last twenty minutes. Mo’at grinned once more.

“I know a kind soul when I see one. Eywa would not have brought you and Neteyam together if she was not wanting you two to be together in that way.” Obviously, Mo’at would know best when it came to Eywa. You smiled, glancing back down at the herbs.

Maybe one day this would be your fate.

—

Neteyam returned from his day-long hunting trip exhausted and ready to collapse into his hammock for a long nap. His mother was there to greet him with a kiss to the cheek and to his surprise, his grandmother was sitting inside eating her bowl of food.

“Hello, grandmother.” He bowed to her and she nodded back.

“Hello, my grandson. How was the trip?” Neteyam shrugged some, dropping his belongings to the ground for now. It was as best as it could be with Lo’ak being his usual self plus an added friend along for the ride.

“It was very informative. Father gave us great tips.” That part was not a lie. Jake always gave his sons great pointers for making their kills.

“That is great, I am very glad. I had a nice visit with your Y/n today.” Neteyam’s eyes widened a bit.

“You did? When?” He suddenly worried his grandmother told her embarrassing things about him or exposed how he would talk about her all the time.

“She stopped by here looking for you, I think, but I was here instead. I offered inside and we had a very nice chat. She is a wonderful young woman.” Neteyam couldn’t help but smile hearing that. You were amazing. He was glad to hear his grandmother liked her as much as he did.

“She would make a very wonderful Tsahik one day. She has nearly every skill necessary without even having much training for the position.” Mo’at eyed her grandson. Neteyam’s entire face flushed, but he also felt a sense of pride. You were great at nearly everything, he wasn’t surprised Mo’at thought that.

“Well, I hope one day it will happen. We are still young and—“

“Tsahik knows everything, son. It will happen.” Neteyam watched his grandmother beam at him widely. He flushed once more and then tried to hide the smirk forming on his lips by looking away.

In his head, he knew you were the one for him, but that was never definite. Hearing his grandmother basically confirm it was enough for him. You were it for him. Through and through.

FIVE.

You hadn’t snuck out during the night in awhile. Neteyam suggested it would be a nice way to get your minds off of things and just be with each other for a bit since your siblings were always interrupting or needing something.

Neteyam swung along the oh so familiar path to the tree he had taken so many times before. Eclipse had just begun and every time he was so amazed at how the forest lit up around him. It made Pandora that much more magical.

Like always, you had beaten him to the spot. Except this time, you weren’t alone. Your ikran was perched a few feet away and you had your riding visor on. Neteyam grew suspicious, but you only grinned at him.

“I thought we could go for a ride. We haven’t flown during Eclipse in so long.” You freckles were glowing and Neteyam could see the large smile on your face and your eagerness to fly.

“I did not bring any of my things and I only have my—“ You cut him off by revealing your hands that were hidden behind your back. You held his riding visor in your hands.

“I knew you would say that, so I planned ahead.” Neteyam could only smile at you. You always thought of everything.

“What if we get attacked or something?” Neteyam was still skeptical. He loved riding at Eclipse with you, but he felt under prepared if anything happened while you two were out.

“Nothing will happen, I promise. If it makes you feel any better, I have my bow. Come on, we have not ridden in so long.” You were tugging at his hand and he couldn’t resist your pleas. He took his visor from your hands and smiled.

“Okay, fine. Let’s do it.” He would do anything to be able to make you smile like you were right now. He called for his ikran while you hopped up on yours.

Once you two were both on, you exchanged a glance. There was a playful smirk on your lips as you pushed your visor down. Neteyam grew curious of the look.

“Last one to Ayram Alusing loses!” And then you were off before Neteyam could even process what you had said.

He quickly took off with you already five paces ahead of him. He had no idea how you gained so much speed already while he struggled to even pick up momentum. The wind blew against his face, making it burn some of his skin that was not protected. It was definitely not working in his favor tonight.

“You are losing, Neteyam!” He heard you call from ahead of him. He growled some and focused all of his energy into catching up to you.

He was finally able to catch up to your side. He smirked over at you.

“Who is losing now?” He teased and pushed ahead ignoring the harsh breeze as best as he could.

The two of you soared through the sky, the Hallelujah Mountains just ahead. Neteyam had the lead, but you were just on his tail, literally. If you reached out, you could probably touch the end of his ikran.

You had a competitive spirit, so there was no way you were letting yourself loose to Neteyam. From his peripheral, he saw you creeping up on him.

“You can not win everything, Y/n!” He called over to you, but there was something in your eye telling him you were definitely not losing this round.

He tried focusing through the bond to get his ikran to pull ahead as the first two mountains came up. However, you blew right past him like magic and crossed the imaginary finish like. Neteyam sighed in defeat as you pumped your arms up and down for another victory.

“I told you I would win. You do not win against me.” The eldest Sully still smiled nonetheless, enjoying seeing you so happy. He would lose a hundred times to you to be able to see you as happy and carefree as you were right now.

“My apologies, I should have known I had no chance.” Neteyam held his hands up in surrender. The little smirk continued to dance on your lips as you took off to keep flying around the mountains.

The boy stuck close to your side, the two of you smiling widely as you weaved in and around the large rock formations. You would occasionally dive over the larger branches hanging out to make it a game.

Neteyam felt like his parents where he knew they still snuck out at later hours of the night to do this. It was so thrilling, yet so relaxing at the same time. The breeze had finally died down and it no longer felt like bullets pelting his skin as he rode.

“You want to rest here? There is an open spot.” You pointed up ahead at a clearing in one of the mountain tops. Neteyam nodded and followed you to the landing.

You jumped off your ikran, taking in your surroundings. The entire area was glowing its bioluminescent glow. Each flora, leaf, tree moss, everything was shining bright acting as the light in the dark night.

“That was easily the best ride I have had in awhile. What about you?” You flipped your visor up and turned to Neteyam. In a swift move, he snaked his arms around your waist to bring you closer.

“That certainly was a great ride, but maybe next time you will lose the race here.” He grinned and earned an eye roll from you.

“In your dreams. You may be future Olo’eyktan, but you can never win against me.” You shook your head and Neteyam only chuckled.

“And you may be future Tsahik one day, so that competitive nature may need to die down a bit.” He smirked and your face flushed. You broke away from his grasp to look up at the blue-purple sky.

“Your grandmother speaks of the same thing.” You smiled, thinking about your time with Mo’at a few weeks ago.

“Is that what you two talked about that one day?” Neteyam questioned, always wondering what his grandmother could possibly be saying to you when he wasn’t around.

“She is a very kind lady. She knows what she is talking about.” You laughed some. Neteyam cringed knowing she definitely embarrassed him during that conversation.

“Did she say anything about me?” He had to ask even if he didn’t want to know.

“Oh, so many things. She loves you.” You found a comfortable spot against one of the trees to stargaze. Neteyam joined you.

“Anything embarrassing?” Your tiny giggle told him all he needed to know. He internally face palmed.

“If I told you, it would ruin the fun.” You grinned and Neteyam knew that Mo’at definitely embarrassed the shit out of him. Wonderful.

“Well, I am serious about your future Tsahik fate. Just think, you and I head of the clan one day. It would be perfect.” Neteyam threw his arm around you and you giggled at the image appearing in your head.

The Sully boy pictured it too. It looked very similar to his mother and father right now. You would still be a warrior while also caring for the people when they needed it. He would wear the large feather chest piece and headpiece his father wore—planning hunting trips, war parties, overseeing the entire clan. The future was so close yet so far. He knew it would be before him soon.

For now though, he wouldn’t worry about that and enjoyed the time he was spending with you by his side. It was enough waking up in the early hours of the morning, spending hours on specific skills, he didn’t need to wish it upon himself right now.

“Well, if it does happen, at least the people seem content with your choice of..me.” You giggled at your wording. Neteyam smiled.

“It is a miracle no one has talked much. I think they know my father will be at their throats considering I am their son if they did say anything about you.”

“I knew it would be fine. You worry too much sometimes, you know.” You poked at his chest, making him squirm away from you.

“I am merely just caring about you. It is not worry.” Neteyam attempted to defend himself, but it was clear he had a weak defense.

“You also worry. Do not be afraid to admit it. It is charming knowing you worry so much.” Another grin came from you.

“Well of course I am going to worry and care. It is who I am.” You pulled him back towards you so he could cuddle into you.

“And I love who you are.” You cradled his head, pulling your hand through his pretty braids.

He almost said it. He almost had the courage to tell you.

Jake taught Neteyam the phrase when he once asked what it meant after hearing him tell it to his mother. Jake explained how it was much more intimate than I see you. It was something the Sky People would tell those they cared deeply for.

Neteyam had been wanting to say it you for ages, but he never thought it was the right time. He didn’t know how you would react. Would you freak out? Would you say it back? Did you love him? He for sure loved you, but he wasn’t sure if you reciprocated his feelings that much. He didn’t want to scare you with such a meaningful phrase. It seemed like the right time, but it also didn’t at the same time.

Instead, he nuzzled his head further into you and breathed you in. He savored the way your hair smelled—somehow it always smelled like fresh flowers. He listed to your heartbeat, nearly putting him to sleep. The moment was taking him over. It was complete bliss and comfort being in your arms.

THE ONE TIME HE SAID IT.

Everything was perfect until it wasn’t.

You planned a cute little picnic in the forest for you and Neteyam. He was dragged out of his hut with instructions to keep his eyes closed or he would ruin the surprise. Your grip on his hand was tight as he was dragged through the forest, occasionally knocking his head against a low hanging branch you forgot to push out of the way.

“Y/n, that was the third branch. Where are we going?” He laughed trying to figure out where he was, but it wasn’t much luck considering he was blindfolded.

“Just be patient. You will love it.” You hoped he would love it. You worked to put it together all day yesterday, so if he didn’t like it you’d be damned.

Trusting you, Neteyam kept accepting hits to the head and scratches to the arm knowing it had to be worth it in the end.

When you two finally arrived at your destination, you pulled the cloth from his eyes. He squinted, not used to the bright light, but when his vision finally leveled out, he was in awe of what he saw.

The little clearing had been decorated with numerous vines that wrapped around each tree branch. Flower petals were scatted along the ground. It looked like something from his dreams.

“Surprise! What do you think? A picnic in the forest.” You held your arms out, excitement bouncing across your face. Neteyam was still speechless at the effort that must’ve been put into all of it.

“You did this all for me?” You nodded, leading him further in.

“Of course I did. I had some help from Kiri and my sisters, but you deserve it after all the work you have been doing.” You turned to him, grinning widely. Neteyam cupped your face trying to find the words to express his gratitude.

“You are the best person ever. Thank you, my love.” He pecked your lips and then went to see what you had packed for your picnic.

You joined him on the blanket Neytiri let you use while Neteyam immediately began eating anything he saw. You laughed at his actions.

“Someone has not eaten yet today?”

“Oh, you have no idea. I have been out since the eclipse ended training with my father.” You grinned, glad you could feed him.

Everything was perfect until it wasn’t.

Since it was a spur the moment surprise, neither of you thought to bring any weapons with you besides the knives you always carried. It was a part of the forest only Na’vi went. There was no possible way danger could lurk around the corner or behind a tree.

“If you could come back as anything you wanted, what what you want to come back as?” Neteyam laid across the blanket staring up at the clear sky. Your head was beside his as you laid the other way. Your stomach’s were full of food and now you were just relaxing in the sun.

“Anything?” That was a hard question. There was so many things you wanted to be.

“Anything.”

“I think I would want to come back as an ikran. They are so beautiful and just imagine being able to go anywhere you wanted basically. Flying through the sky with your rider. It sounds like such a dream.” You adored your rides with your ikran and being one would be a whole other level you would want to experience.

“I think I would want to come back as one of the good scientists like Norm or Dr. Max.” Neteyam’s answer surprised you and even himself. Sky People were evil and even some didn’t fully trust the good scientists who stayed behind, but he wanted to know what it felt like to live as human.

His father told him and his siblings countless stories of his time being apart of the Sky People and it always intrigued Neteyam.

“I know it sounds crazy, but my father told us so many stories as his time as one of them. It just seems so interesting to me.” He continued his reasoning when you didn’t respond.

“I understand it. I think it would be interesting to live as them for a day.” It was strange to Neteyam. Sky People could live like his people whenever they chose to, but he could not live like them. There was no science to make human bodies for Na’vi people who wanted the experience.

He got a lot of exposure from Spider, but it wasn’t really the same. Neteyam wanted to see it, feel it for himself.

“I have just always felt human because of my father’s blood. Even though I do not have the five fingers like Lo’ak and Kiri, I still have half of his blood in me.” Neteyam tore his gaze to his hands. His long, thin fingers that were just like his mother’s and Tuk’s.

His parents liked to say he took on more of Neytiri’s genes while Lo’ak gained Jake’s.

“It is okay to wonder and want to feel it, Neteyam. You are half human, half Na’vi. It is good you are curious.” You reached up to caress his cheek and the boy leaned into your touch.

“It just feels wrong, though. The Sky People are demons. They hurt us. Why do I want to wonder more about them?” In a sense, he also felt guilt. He knew how much his mother despised those people and even sometimes Spider because he was one of them. Why should he want to know more when all they did was hurt people?

“Do not feel guilty for wondering. Your father was them once upon a time,” He grinned at your english phrase you used. Him and Lo’ak were definitely rubbing off on you. “And he is a good human. You can still wonder and want to be like them and still be good. Norm and Max are good Sky People. It is your blood, your ancestors. Do not feel bad for wanting to wonder.” Neteyam liked the reassurance you were giving him. He was worried he sounded crazy or something.

He was about to respond when his ears twitched for a second and he suddenly got a random chill across his arms. A faint rustling noise floated into his ears. He quickly sat up.

Normally, he wouldn’t have been so alarmed, but the way his skin started to crawl told him it wasn’t some animal lurking.

“Neteyam? What is wrong?” You sat up seeing his quick change in demeanor.

“Shh, be quiet for a second.” He held his finger to his lips. His eyes bounced around the area you two were in and he grabbed for his knife.

The rustling noise continued and it got closer to where you guys were. Neteyam grabbed your arm, making you stand up with him. His actions were frightening you because you didn’t know what was going on.

“Someone else is here.” He whispered to you. He felt his heart beating a bruise into his chest at the idea of someone else lurking close by.

Everything was perfect until it wasn’t.

A noise and then an arrow was flying just above your heads. You screamed out of instinct and fear. Neteyam’s hand was back on you about to hide behind a tree. When he spun around, two larger hands with a much stronger grip grabbed ahold of the two of you.

You screamed again. Neteyam hit them with his knife causing a minor distraction. He spun away from the prying hands, until four more people emerged from the bushes, large guns in their hands. He suddenly stopped, knowing he couldn’t take them with just a knife.

“Well, look at what we have here. Looks like we crashed someone’s date.” Neteyam knew it wasn’t a true Na’vi by the way they wore full clothes and spoke in english to him. It was Avatars.

The one, tall with a buzz cut haircut, crouched down to be at his eye level. Neteyam hissed at him as he scanned his entire face with his eyes. He held his knife out for defense.

“I heard you talking a few moments ago. You said your father was from the..Sky People. Your father doesn’t happen to be Jake Sully, does it?” With the English Neteyam did understand, he knew this guy was bad and clearly had his dad on his radar.

“Oe rä’ä tslam nga.” (I do not understand you) Neteyam growled out. The avatar looked at him, quirking his eyebrow and exchanging a glance with his accomplices with him.

You continued to struggle in the hands that held a tight grip on you.

“If you tell me where your father is, I’ll let her go.” He nodded towards you. Neteyam only hissed at him once more, knife high, ready to strike.

“Or we can do this the hard way, it’s up to you. You are definitely your father.” The avatar man grabbed Neteyam’s hand. He examined his fingers, raising his eyebrow once more.

“Sure didn’t get his genes though, that’s for sure.” The others snickered around them. Neteyam pulled his hand back, unsure of what to do. If he went for a hit, they wound shoot and he didn’t want that to happen.

His eyes gazed over at you. You met his gaze, the same unsureness resting in your look. If you were scared, Neteyam couldn’t tell because you hid it well.

He couldn’t call in his dad because that would just lead this guy right to him. He was out of any good options.

Everything was perfect until it wasn’t.

“All you have to do is tell me where your dad is and no one will get hurt.” Neteyam thought of an idea.

He slowly raised his hands in means of surrender. The guy looked at him, curious. Neteyam set his knife down by his feet and then slowly moved his hands to where his transmitter sat on his neck.

He pushed into the buttons and began speaking in Na’vi since these guys clearly didn’t understand it as well as he could speak it.

(Let’s pretend this is Na’vi because I can’t translate the entire conversation 😌)

“Dad, we’re under attack, I need help.” Neteyam glanced warily at the man standing before him who watched his moves carefully.

“Neteyam? Where are you?” His dad came into his ear, urgent and worried.

“In the forest where the open clearing is. Avatar men with guns. We’re surrounded.”

“We? Who is we?”

“Y/n and I. We need your help.” The guy wasn’t exactly picking up on what Neteyam was saying which was good. His plan was working so far.

“Okay, we’re on our way.” And then he was out. Neteyam knew two things after that: one, his father was a much better fighter than these guys were. He was Na’vi, he had years and years to adapt. He could take these guys out easily. Two, his dad wasn’t going to give himself up to this guy and if they could defeat him, it wouldn’t even be in the question.

“He is coming now.” Neteyam spoke in english so the guy understood. He quirked his eyebrow once more, almost surprised.

“Well, that was easier than I thought it would be.” The others chucked around them. Behind his back, Neteyam made a small hand signal to you that he hoped you would understand.

Suddenly, there was a screech. You had bitten the arm that was holding you. Neteyam used that distraction to grab his knife from the ground. He went for the guy’s leg.

You wrestled out of the grasp. The others went for you, but being the skilled warrior you were, it was easy to take them out. You swung your leg around, taking one out with your foot.

Neteyam slashed the leg of the guy and went for his gun. His father had taught him and Lo’ak how to use one, so he knew exactly where to go to blow the amo out of it.

He used his knife to slash another one’s arm. It was pure chaos. Blood sputtered every which direction and the others were trying to fire their guns at you two. You were quicker than them, though. You knocked them from their hands and kicked their legs out.

One particular cut Neteyam made went across the entire face of one of the avatars.

“Quaritch, we need to fall back. We can’t take this many losses right now.” One of them urgently spoke to the one Neteyam slashed the leg of.

“I need Jake Sully. I am not leaving without him.” He argued bitterly.

“We’ll come back when we’re better prepared! At least we know they’re close by.” He seemed to finally give in. He called something Neteyam didn’t understand and all of his accomplices began retreating back into the forest where they had come from.

Relief flooded through Neteyam. They were leaving and the both of you were still safe. However, his relief didn’t last for very long.

Everything was perfect until it wasn’t.

He turned to you, a smile spread across his lips until he saw the way you clutched your stomach. Your hands were trembling as they slowly revealed what was happening. Your knife handle was sticking out and blood was dripping from your skin.

There wasn’t a smile on his face anymore. His relief disappeared and was quickly replaced by fear.

“Neteyam..” You sputtered, swaying on your feet. He was quick to catch you before you hit the ground.

“No, no, no, no, Y/n. It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay. Look at me. Look at me. You’re okay.” He was sputtering, clutching your arm and staring at the way your knife was lodged into your stomach.

“Why am I so warm? Is it warm?” Your entire face was losing color by the second. Neteyam, even though he tried not to show it for your sake, was panicking.

“You’re fine. It’s going to be fine. You’re going to be fine. Help is coming. They’re coming to help us.” He knew better than to pull the knife out, but you were practically pouring blood everywhere.

“Am I dying? Is this what it feels like to die?” The blood loss was making you go into shock. Neteyam was cradling your head, trying to stay calm for you and himself.

“No, you are not dying, my love. You are going to be okay. You are not going to die. I will not let you die.” If he had his bow and arrow, maybe he would’ve been able to take down those other guys easier. If he had a better weapon, anything other than a knife then maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

You were not dying.

Your breathing started becoming rigid. It was broken into heavy pants and you were sputtering again.

“If-if I don’t..If I don’t make it..Can you-will you take care of them for me?” Your siblings. Neteyam visibly shut his eyes for a moment. How would he explain this to Foana? Who would take care of them if you..no you were not dying.

“Do not say that. You are going to take care of them because you are going to live. My dad is coming. Everything is going to be okay.” It was mostly just so Neteyam would believe himself too. Everything was going to be okay.

His ears twitched and perked up when he heard sounds of ikrans coming. His father’s ikran came into view along with his mother’s. They landed and then rushed to where you two were.

“Dad! Someone put her knife into her. She..she is losing so much blood.” Neteyam’s voice broke that time. He couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“Shit, shit.” Neteyam watched as his dad gently flipped you to your side. Luckily, there was no exit wound, but the blood kept coming.

“I-I do not feel very good. I-I-“ You were heaving at this point. Your eyes were glazing over and your entire skin had gone from a deep blue to an entirely lighter shade.

“Y/n, you need to stay with me. Please, please stay with me.” Neteyam cupped your face, trying to keep your eye contact with him.

“We need to get her to the village. To Max and Norm and Mo’at.” Neytiri had a look of pure horror on her face seeing you like that.

Your eyes couldn’t stay open much longer. The blood loss was becoming fatal. Neteyam began shaking you when he saw your eyelids drift closed.

“Y/n! Y/n!” He was in too much of a panic to even check if you were breathing or not still. He could not lose you. Not now.

“We need to get her to the village, right now. Neteyam! Are you with me?” His father was practically yelling at this point. However, his eldest son fell into what was his own shock.

He did not and could not move seeing your almost lifeless body in front of him. He didn’t process it as his dad lifted you up to his ikran. His mother had to pull him to his feet, trying to snap him back into attention. Nothing worked, though.

All he could think about was you. You, you, you. You were in love. His future woman. His future mate. You were the sister to his siblings. The sister to your siblings. You were their care taker. Who would..who would take care of them now?

He should’ve told you. He should’ve told you the other night on your night ride. It was so close on the tip of his tongue. Why couldn’t he find the courage to tell you then? What if he never got to tell you ever now?

Your body became so lifeless in his arms. Pale skin, gone eyes, blood nearly everywhere. This couldn’t be the end. There was so much life ahead for the two of you. Your future plans. He couldn’t possibly do it all without you.

His mother somehow managed to get him onto her ikran. She flew quickly through the sky after her husband who clutched your body tightly.

When they landed, you were rushed directly to Max and Norm. Mo’at was brought in to give you a heavy sedation medicine so they could pull the knife out without damaging anything serious. It was near chaos. No one but Mo’at was allowed where they were inside the labs.

Neteyam chewed on his bottom lip. Guilt, fear, anger, sadness, everything at once was eating him up inside. He figured he should be the one to tell your siblings what happened, so he did.

Their faces were enough for him to finally break down right in front of them. It should’ve been me. It should’ve been me. It should’ve been me. The phrase repeated in his head like a broken record.

All five of them sat on the ground of your hut hugging one another close. For a moment he hated your parents for not being here in this moment. They had no idea what was happening to their daughter right now.

Neytiri offered their hut to your siblings without hesitation to stay in.

Hours were ticking by it stated to feel like days to Neteyam. There was no word on the progress or your condition. It was merely a waiting game at this point. The knife was lodged deep and you lost a lot of blood.

Everything was perfect until it wasn’t.

Mo’at finally emerged after what seemed like almost six hours where a large group had gathered outside of the lab doors—Neteyam and his family included. All of them deeply concerned about your well-being.

“The knife has been removed. She is stable, but she is sleeping still and will be for a few days.” A tiny bit of relief washed through Neteyam knowing the operation was at least successful.

—

The days went by and you had finally awoken. Once visitors were allowed, your siblings were the first to check on you, of course. Neteyam hung back, a bit anxious and nervous to see you again.

He felt so guilty for what happened. He could not protect you after saying countless times that he would at any given moment. His failure caused him to hang his head low and avoid looking people’s way when he went out.

Kiri, Tuk, and Lo’ak were the next group of visitors. Neteyam still hung back. Maybe it was fear that was holding him back?

Could he possibly look you in the eye again after seeing you with a knife lodged into you? Not really. His fear made him feel upset in a sense. Why could he not face you? You were his love, yet he could not find himself to step foot into the lab.

A few more days passed and eventually the doctors and Mo’at agreed to move you back into your hut for more comfort. Neteyam avoided the entire village that day, in fear that he would see you.

What was wrong with him? One minute he could not stop seeing you and now he was afraid to even make eye contact with you.

It made him feel even more guilty.

One night, he sat outside by one of the drop-off spots. His head pounded and every single thought he ever had was swirling around like a school of fish.

He didn’t feel another presence until he caught sight of his mother sitting down beside him. She had began recognizing his absent behaviors and his avoidant gazes anytime he was around people. She knew how hard this was on her son.

“Have you seen her at all?” She crafted her words gently. Neteyam shook his head.

“I cannot. It pains me and the guilt is eating me alive.” He grabbed his chest like something was actually messing with him in there.

“Well, she is asking for you. She is confused why you have not seen her yet. You should go see her, Neteyam.”

“I can not. Every time I look at her I remember the horrid images of the knife deep in her stomach as the blood seeped through. It was the worst part of everything. I promised her protection and I can not even do that anymore.” He wanted his mother to understand, but he knew she wound not. Not completely, at least.

“Neteyam, this is not your blame. You did everything you could and no one is blaming you. I promise you, son.” Her arm outstretched to bring comfort to her son. She rubbed his back, trying to get him to understand.

“Then why do I feel so, so guilty like it is my fault?” He pleaded for an answer. His mother tried to come up with as best of an answer as she could.

“When you care for someone as deeply as you do, whatever happens to them begins to feel like it is your fault. It is not your fault, though. You take the blame because you think there is no where else to place it. My son, you did everything you could. No one is upset at you or mad or angry. Y/n is not upset with you. Do not think that.” Neteyam’s head hung low.

“I think it will fix a lot of things if you go see her. You will begin to realize this was none of your doing or fault.” Neytiri urged once more and Neteyam knew he couldn’t keep refusing. He had to be mature. He was almost Olo’eyktan and he couldn’t even face his own injured (almost) mate.

“Okay. I will go see her.” Neytiri smiled, giving her son a nod of encouragement.

The Sully boy stood and turned in the direction of your hut. He started bracing himself—for insults? Anger? Sadness? Frustration?

The closer he got to you, the faster his heart would beat against his chest. From inside, he could hear your siblings talking and at times arguing with one another.

He tapped on the wood before pushing aside the flap that covered the inside. Tsanten and Naria looked his way.

“Neteyam! You’re here!” Foana was at his legs, hugging him much like Tuk did. He smiled down at the little girl.

“Hello, Foana. Tsanten. Naria. Ni`awtu.” He bowed before them. Their looks told him they had never been greeted that way before.

In the corner, Neteyam caught sight of your figure. You were sitting upright carving something when you finally noticed his presence in your home.

“Neteyam, hello. Come in, come in.” You urged him in further. He slowly went to you and your siblings filtered themselves out knowing you two probably needed some space.

“You look so much better. How are you feeling?” He questioned taking in your skin that returned to its usual blue shade. You smiled some.

“I am definitely feeling a lot better. How are you?” You took ahold of his hands. The questioned seemed silly to him considering he wasn’t the one who got stabbed.

“I am doing okay. I am not the one who got stabbed, though.” He stifled a small laugh. You rubbed at his fingers and he was just glad to be able to feel your hands in his again, not the lifeless feeling they once were.

“Well, I have not seen you yet, so I was making sure you were okay.” Neteyam grimaced just a bit. He felt guilty for not visiting you sooner, but he just couldn’t bring himself to face you in the state that you were in.

“Yes, I am okay. I am sorry I did not visit you sooner. I..I just felt guilty about all of this and I was being selfish with myself.” His head hung low, ears dropping. You grabbed his chin though, shaking your head.

“There is nothing to feel guilty about, Neteyam. You did everything you could. Eywa gave me life again because she knew my time was not over yet. This was not your fault.” Your words were reassuring. He forced a small smile.

“Plus, you forget how strong I am. I have thick skin. Literally.” You laughed this time. The joke was corny, but it made both of you smile.

You allowed yourself to pull Neteyam closer and he situated himself so his head laid in your lap. He closed his eyes at the feeling of your fingers raking through his braids. It was a familiar feeling he had grown to miss while you were recovering.

“Hey, Y/n?” You turned your attention to the boy in your lap.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.” Neteyam’s heart was pounding, nervous for your reaction. He wasn’t sure if that was an Earth phrase you knew or understood, but he hoped it was.

A tiny smile danced on your lips. You caressed his cheek, leaning down to kiss it.

“I love you.”

The rest of the evening was spent wrapped in each other’s arms.

2K notes · View notes

dizzycoffee · 3 months

Note

Oh my gosh I really love you Vox x Angel Reader!

Can we please get a part 2 of it but Valentino tries to take Reader away?

(Because you can't have a nice cup of tea without any drama 😏)

— Vox / Angel!Fem!Reader; Headcanons Part 3

it's a little shorter from the rest, but here you go !!

for the first post, click here ! for the second post, click here !

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･ HEADCANONS ･*:.｡..｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

Obviously, Vox put all his efforts in ensuring you and the other Vees DIDN'T meet

So when he comes to his private bedroom and finds Valentino and you pleasantly talking, Hell went on a blackout for good minute

"Voxy! How come you didn't tell me you were keeping this cute little angel?" Valentino's voice made Vox freeze for a brief moment, watching as the moth demon smirked up at him. Vox couldn't help but follow Valentino's hand, which was placed around your waist. Vox felt like tearing Valentino apart right then and there.

After you left for the day, Vox made it very clear that he didn't want Valentino around you

To which Val replies "But how could I do that when she's just so appetizing?"

Vox feels like he's going to lose it

At first, he feels like maybe Val is just teasing him. He thinks to himself, Val isn't that fucking stupid to actually go against his commands, not when Vox has been compliant with Val's own rules in his sets, right??

Oh boy was he WRONG

Those private moments the two of you shared became a trio hanging session

Vox HATED having to share moments with Val, especially since he hardly considered preserving your pureness

Val constantly making dirty jokes or offering you "a job" as "a star" made Vox sick to his stomach

You reassure him that you've heard worse by a certain angel coughcough adam but it still pisses Vox off to no ends

What's worse is that Vox knows that had he established a relationship for the two of you sooner, maybe Val would've had better decency

What REALLY drives Vox to become openly possessive was when Val had the balls to actually take the initiative with you

"Let's go on a date, pretty angel. I'll be sure to make your time worthwhile!"

Before you could reply, you felt Vox stiffen behind you. His claws dug into your waist as he pulled you back into his chest. You didn't turn to look, but you were sure he had a death glare in his eyes as he said, "Sorry to disappoint, but she's my girlfriend. Now, do you mind fucking off? We've got our own date to get to."

After Val had "fucked off," Vox and you FINALLY put a label on the relationship

He confessed that the simple idea of you being with anyone but him made his blood boil

He wants you all for himself, as selfish as it is

You tell him it's okay to be selfish sometimes, because as pure as you are, you selfishly want him just as much

Pulling you into a warm embrace, your wings instinctively around him, he also confessed that he loves you <3

#vox hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel vox x reader #vox headcanons #vox x reader #vox x y/n #vox x you

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politemenacephd · 5 months

Text

Arachnophilia (Part One)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

You're a new recruit to the spider society, and you've just been sent on your first mission on one condition: Do not contact Miguel's variant in this universe. When your mission goes wrong you break that rule very quickly, desperate for help, only to find that Miguel's variant here is not what you expected. He's stoic but kind, awkward but sincere, and he's also an enormous human-spider hybrid: A drider, both human and arachnid. You decide to continue seeing Miguel in secret, with the rest of the society unaware. You really want to stay friends after all. That is, until Miguel suddenly goes into a rut. Word count: 2457 Notes: fun little thing i cooked up while ill and after being inspired by a mutuals work. chap 1 + 2 set up and characters meeting, chap 3 and onward is the smut, enjoy x

‘Hey! You got a mission!’

You glanced up from your desk and peeped around your holographic screen, curiously perusing for whoever had called. A mission? Who was it this time?

You spotted Jess making her way down the opposite hall to you, her eyes scanning the other desks. Ah, of course, you knew her voice anywhere. So this was an elite mission. With your curiosity now fully peeked you slyly leaned your chair even further out into the corridor, eyes peeled to try and see who she went towards.

One of the new Peters, perhaps? They were always clambering for a mission. Or perhaps the new Gwen? She certainly thought she deserved a solo mission, and she wasn’t even wrong.

You became so enraptured with your own office snooping that you entirely missed Jess as she walked up behind you.

‘You okay there?’

You jumped in your chair and nearly fell to the floor, only barely catching yourself on the rim of your desk. ‘AH- Oh, hi! Yes! Yes, all good. All- fine. What is up, boss?’

Jess flatly squared her hands on her hips. ‘I was literally calling you with exactly what is up’ she noted drolly. ‘You got a mission.’

You felt your shoulders tense as your stomach dropped. Your fear must have been clear because Jess immediately raised a brow.

You were getting sent out? Finally? You?

You swallowed down the growing lump in your throat. It was a justified fear, at least in your mind, as if this was true this would be your first big mission for the Spider Society. No more fighting minor crime in your own home city, now you were patrolling the multiverse.

‘Well?’

You jumped a second time as Jess interrupted your thoughts. It was very clear that you were wasting her time.

‘Oh! Ah, shit- yes, sorry.’ In a hurry you pushed your chair back and hopped to your feet, struggling to look as professional as you could. Jess’s face hardly moved. She seemed to be eyeing you up, making tiny little conclusions in her mind that you couldn’t see.

Luckily that didn’t last. Her face quickly changed back to that casual smile, and with a wave of her hand she beckoned you to follow. ‘My god you’re tightly wound. They were right. Come on!’

You quickly powered down the PC you’d been doing busywork on and rushed to follow her.

‘I thought Miguel was the only Spider who didn’t have senses. I've never seen another spider surprised like that’ Jess noted over her shoulder as you followed. You opened your mouth to reply but were cut off as you both exited the research block, with the sliding doors revealing a bright and blinding midday sun beaming down through the glass walls above. You shielded your eyes and hurried to catch up.

‘I do have senses, sorry, just- I’m still getting used to being here. I thought I lost it, actually, funny story, but uh- no, see I don’t know if you ever got told this, but apparently, I heard from one of the older Peter’s there’s this unofficial but pretty established thing called sense fatigue.’

‘Ahuh.’ Jess was obviously just trying to get to Miguel’s office as quickly as possible at this point, but you didn’t notice. You continued rambling.

‘It’s like whisker fatigue on cats, did you know cats got that? So spiders, we’re so used to being the only ones with senses, that when you first join the society it kinda exhausts your senses being around SO many other people that it stops working as well. I think that’s what’s happening to me. Did that ever happen to you?’

‘Nope.’

Jess’s curt response didn’t dampen your spirits. You eagerly jogged along the final main beam towards the go-home machine, jumping and dodging the other spiders as they went by.

‘Huh! Well that’s why you’re an elite, probably, right? Along with other reasons, I’m sure.’

‘Many other reasons’ Jess said.

‘But uh- I’m sure it’s fine. It’s better at home so, won’t affect me on the mission.’

‘Let’s hope not.’

With that being the final word Jess led you down the corridor towards Miguel’s office. It was darker there than the rest of the HQ, down in these tight-knit spaces covered in half-made junk and unfinished tech. You had to jump over multiple loose wires and metal plates to get to the door.

‘Miguel! I got who you asked for!’

You scurried up to Jess’s back as you both entered into Miguel’s domain. It was enormous in scope, dark and shadowed with jagged metal spires reaching so far up that you couldn’t see where they ended. In the centre of the room was that signature floating desk, and on that signature floating desk was the man himself.

Miguel O’Hara, slouched over his desk with his hackles raised and his neck bent.

‘Miguel! I brought ‘em over.’

Jess’s call caused him to pause. He was midway through typing something.

‘The new one?’

His voice was smooth, gruff and cold. It sent a shiver down your spine.

‘Yep. The new one.’

With a grunt Miguel finished typing and turned to face you. You jumped as he dropped down from his desk to the floor.

God he was pretty. You felt your heart thud a little harder as he stared down at you, hands carefully placed on his hips to highlight his shoulders.

No, not pretty. He was beautiful. You struggled to stand up a little taller.

‘Hi! Hello, ah- sir, you wanted me for a mission?’

Miguel looked you up and down like he could see through to your very soul. It was very strangely violating to be stared at by those cold red eyes. After giving you the up and down he turned and manifested a new screen at his back.

‘You’re going to E-298. There’s a vulture anomaly.’

‘Ah! Alright. Sounds, do-able. Who am I with?’

‘No one.’

You blanked. Your mouth moved but no words came out. ‘No- no one? Sir?’

Miguel grunted. ‘Somethings up. Almost everyone right now is busy, there’s anomalies everywhere, which is why I’m sending you to clear this up.’

‘Uh- I mean, Jess, is—’

‘Jess is coming with me to deal with an anomaly hole in E-345’ Miguel barked, quickly cutting you off. You pursed your lips on any further complaints.

‘Just subdue and cage the bad guy, then send him back here. Lyla will deal with any larger anomalies. Can you handle that?’

You shuffled your feet to hide how hot you felt. You shouldn’t be indulging this, but your body was reacting quite strangely to being ordered around by the larger man.

‘Ah- yes, sir’ you replied. Miguel nodded his approval, and you ate it up.

‘Good. I’ll need you to head out immediately.’

When Miguel failed to say anything else you assumed that it was time to go, and quickly turned to leave. Short and brief, you thought, what more could you expect though? He was a busy man after all.

But then Miguel spoke again.

‘Wait!’

You paused and turned to see Miguel holding up a single claw. His eyes were narrowed, his brows knotted in a way that was unusually intense even for him. You hated the way you cowered under his shadow.

‘I- I don’t usually bring this up, but, you’re… new, so I want to warn you’ he said, his voice going low. You noticed his nose flaring as he came closer, almost like he was breathing something in. You stood rigid beneath his enormous body. ‘This universe you’re going to, is- home to one of my variants.’

Your eyes widened a little, your mouth forming a soft ‘oh’. ‘Ah! Okay! Is, will you- or, he, I guess- will he be helping—’

‘Stay away from him’ Miguel barked. ‘My variations are not to be trusted. Understood?’

You slowly closed your mouth, giving a short nod.

‘Yes, sir. Of course.’ You pursed your lips as Miguel returned the nod. He slunk back to his office without a second word, and you followed Jess out of the office.

….

Later that day

...

‘God- damn it!’

You stumbled across the street floor, hand clutched to your side. You were hiding in a back alley of a smoking building, your body covered in dust and debris. The muted, muffled screams of a frustrated vulture filled the otherwise empty street.

With a grunt you pressed your back to the wall of the opposing building. It was dark here and the bricks were wet against your suit. You forcefully and awkwardly pulled your mask aside to breath.

Your fight with the vulture hadn’t gone as planned. You’d started out well enough, but that’d just made you cocky. In an attempt to do your best you’d overstretched your web mechanism to the point of jamming it, and you’d soon been overpowered by your feathery opponent.

A few tosses into the wall had bruised at least one rib, and your muscles were straining to even stand.

‘I need… back up…’

It hurt to admit, but you had no other choice. You raised your portal watch and began scanning for anyone you could call for help.

You scrolled, and scanned, and scrolled and scanned until your finger hurt from scrolling. Your movements grew more frantic as your gut began to sink. No, no, no. You could feel your panic rising. Every spider you brought up had an X beside them, meaning they were out of reach for contact.

‘Shit- Shit! Everyone?! It’s really everyone?!’

X after X after X. there was no one who could help you now.

With a soft whine you sank back against the wall, gripping its sides for stability. This was bad, this was REALLY bad. Really, REALLY bad.

You gently cracked your knuckle against the damp bricks at your back. Idiot, you thought. Why had Miguel thought you were worthy to be in this society? Why had you taken the position at all?

In that moment, you felt very much alone.

But, wait. You weren’t the only spider in this universe, right?

Your eyes trailed down to your watch where it’d fallen on Miguel. His symbol for availability was red like the others, but it reminded you of what he’d said. He had a variant here.

Miguel said his variants weren’t to be trusted, but, why? It was strange for him to be so cagey with information like that. Miguel was famously too honest, too blunt, often to his detriment. He only left stuff out if it was inconvenient.

So, what was the issue? Your mind had, at first, gone to the worst possibilities. That he was a mad scientist, or a venom variation, or was so messed up by the DNA splicing that he was incapable of reason.

That didn’t have to be the case though, did it? Perhaps it was something else.

You unceremoniously scrambled to check your things. You had your weapons. You had your watch. Surely if he was dangerous you could just escape, and you could apologize to Miguel later for not listening to him.

Besides, what choice did you have? Either you failed to get the vulture and went back in disgrace, or it turned out Miguel’s variant is a bad guy and you go home in disgrace again. The only good option was the reveal that Miguel’s variant was just, weird, or made him feel inadequate, or wanted $10 for helping out. Thing’s that Miguel could conceivably view as making him unworthy to be a spider society member.

With that desperate cope you made up your mind. You drew your watch to your lips and whispered.

‘Lyla? Hey, Lyla?’

‘What’s up, newbie.’

The snazzy little AI appeared on your wrist, eagerly pacing back and forth as she waited for orders. You swallowed hard; it was now or never.

‘Ah- you, can trace people in this universe, right?’

‘Yep.’

‘You could, theoretically, trace any spiders here?’

‘Yeeeppp.’

‘Could… could you uh, please, trace the Miguel O’Hara in this universe, for me?’

At that Lyla paused. She spun on her heel with dramatic flair, her glasses falling down her nose without her even touching them. She looked surprised.

‘Wow! Didn’t take you for a risky little sneak.’

‘I’m not! I’m just- I need some help and everyone else is busy.’

‘Ahuh. Whatever you say, I don’t care. Honestly I’m just excited someone asked me. I’ve wanted to see his freaky variants for years, but he won’t ever let me look it up. Since you asked though, I got immunity.’

You tried not to think too much about the implications of what she’d said. You lay back and waited for Lyla to complete her scan, all while very aware of the vulture’s continued destruction going on in the building beside you. For now he was contained in there, as you’d put up a light shield, but that wouldn’t last forever.

Please let this work, you pleaded internally. Please.

‘Aha! Got ‘im.’

You let out a sigh of relief as Lyla re-appeared. ‘Great! Where is he?’

‘He’s close’ Lyla cooed, waving a fake document in front of you that was too small to read. You gestured with your hand for her to hurry up.

‘Yes! Okay! Where?’

‘The pine forest park just beyond the city line, to the north. Looks like he’s pretty deep in there.’

You felt your enthusiasm die just a little. He was in a forest? Why? You felt a little pang of anxiety in your gut about this whole thing, but you quickly shut it down as the vulture’s rampage grew louder. No, it was probably fine. Maybe he just had a hidden base in the woods, that was normal, right?

Besides, you didn’t have time to spare. Either he helped or didn’t, and if he didn’t want to help you needed to know that sooner than later.

‘Okay. Thanks Lyla, I owe you.’

‘Everyone does.’

Lyla zipped out of existence as you swung yourself back into the open air, flinging your body way above the city skyline. Up here, with the clear sky and wide-open city scape, you immediately spotted what Lyla had been talking about: an enormous pine forest way off in the distance, hugging the cities edge like a sleeping bear. It looked thick, untamed, and its edges were dark beneath the clouds of an oncoming storm.

You swung your way through the streets and watched the trees grow closer.

‘Alright’ you whispered, your body soaring through the sky. ‘Let’s meet the new Mr O’Hara.' Link to part two!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #smut fanfiction #drider #read on ao3 #smut with plot #smut

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kissagii · 9 months

Text

stardance - prince!sae x knight!reader

a fic for a trade with the lovely @saenora <33

cw: 2.5k words, gn!reader, hurt comfort, sae is pretty rude (to reader), mild descriptions of violence, there's a failed assassination but no blood or serious injury

When the palace walls and king’s carriages proved at last too confining for the eldest prince of the Itoshi family, Sae was assigned a knight of his own. A soldier to fend off the creatures of the forests; to discourage burglars with a glare and blade; to guard a door in a palace so thoroughly guarded that at times even visitors struggled to enter. In his mind, his guard was an excessive layer of protection for an already coddled son, another attempt to shelter him from the kingdom he would one day come to rule.

But mostly, his guard was a nuisance.

“With all due respect, your highness, just how long do you plan to look through these historical tomes that - if I may remind you - your father’s library already has.”

At the mere sound of your voice, he stopped flipping through the large volume in front of him. It wasn’t the one he wanted anyways, and neither were the twenty others the bookshop owner had presented him with. An honor to help the prince with his studies? Hah. If only the fools had what I needed. With a frustrated sigh, he motioned to leave in search of yet another shop.

“I’ll look until one of these shops has what I need.” He hardly looked back as he began making his way to the next bookstore. Technically, he was supposed to let you walk in front, parting the crowds around their crown, but in the near-empty twilight streets, he set a pace brisk enough to discourage anyone wishing to follow him, his guard included. For a moment, as the stars began to rise, he could forget.

Though peace of mind could never never last long. “Your Highness, it’s too late for you to be out. You know as well as I do that your father doesn’t like you being out in the city late, especially not on some wild goose chase for a history book that might not even exist.”

Sae knew that he should be returning to the palace. But in those grand halls, he couldn’t forget, not even for a moment. It was always someone or someone else pestering about something he couldn’t bring himself to care about. Courtship. Parties. Foreign gossip. Meaningless awards. Petty disputes between lords. His brother. His blasted annoying guard.

“Really, your highness, what even is it that you’re looking for?” You continued, beginning to get impatient. “Primary sources from the Cretaceous period? Because, I hate to break it to you, but crabs can’t write.”

Against his better judgment, Sae nearly chuckled at that remark. Nearly.

At this point, you didn’t know if Sae genuinely hated you or if his tendency towards bitter words was an overdramatized facade. Though whichever it was, it was slowly slipping further toward loathing as you urged him out of the library. It was a war of his stubbornness against your orders, and though the king’s own word should always win, it never seemed to.

Worn down by tiredness and the convoluted organization of his father’s library, Sae snapped. Once more you tried to convince him to leave and he turned sharply to face you, eyes darkened. Whatever curious stars had once been behind them had died out, leaving only the aquamarine void.

“Just leave me.”

So this is how he’s playing this. You pulled out his chair, a not-so-subtle sign that it was time to leave, regardless of what he thought. “Your Highness, I’m strictly forbidden from leaving you. I’ll escort you to your room now.”

“I’ll get to my room on my own,” He muttered, waving you off, “One of the sentries can take me if they see me.”

“Sae. You’ve had a long night, it’s time for you to sleep. You can find your books on a clear head in the morning.” There was a certain firmness in your voice this time - you weren’t about to let him ignore you, regardless of the fact that he was above you in rank and had no obligation to listen to you.

“Don’t call me that.”

“What, your name? I don’t answer to you, I’ll call you whatever I like.”

“I outrank you, remember. I don’t care if my father ordered you to make me rest, you answer to me, not him.” He refused to turn to you, gripping white-knuckled on the arms of his chair. If he squeezed them any harder, they might break. A normal soldier would stop provoking him now - you should stop provoking him now - but there was no point in shoving the frustration down any further. Sae was insolent, stubborn, lived on his own time, and wouldn’t take care of himself. But you would protect him. You swore so on your life and honor.

“They’re not his orders.”

“Then whose are they?” He seethed, turning to look you in the eyes. Though he couldn’t see your face in the dim light, Sae was sure you were grinning smugly, taking some sick satisfaction in watching him snap.

“Mine.” You stated plainly.

“Blasted nuisance,” Sae huffed, “You have no authority to give yourself orders. Leave.”

Suddenly he found himself being pulled by the arm, yanked up and out of his chair by a uniformed hand. Electricity prickled down his spine as he was forced to his feet. “I have plenty of authority to care about you and want you to take care of yourself because I know you wouldn’t otherwise. With that said, I will be escorting you to your room.”

Without sparing even a moment, you began pulling Sae toward the door. Your grip was far from rough - he could escape easily if he felt like it - but he saw no reason to struggle. He had hardly noticed the fatigue seeping into his body, sapping his strength as the night grew late.

Sae’s knight was an inevitability. A constant. Guaranteed to be somewhere in the vicinity, be it hovering at his shoulder or stationed at a doorway just out of sight. Even as he reclined in his barely lit sitting room, there was no mistaking the uniformed figure lurking in the shadows near the tightly bolted door.

“Aren’t I safe enough in here? You can leave,” He waved you off halfheartedly, “Get some of that sleep you’ve been hounding me incessantly about.”

Your laugh floated over from the dark corner. At least someone had the energy for humor at this hour. “Believe me, if I weren’t under direct orders to stay here until Kento comes to replace me, I’d be comfortably cuddled up in my bed. Like you should be right now.”

With a sigh, Sae stood from his reading chair and made his way to his bed. He was hardly tired, but pretending to sleep would at least give you peace of mind. The last thing he needed was yet another person overly concerned about his safety, especially not one who was only concerned because it was their job.

Or was it?

I have plenty of authority to care about you.

Your words echoed in his mind. That hadn’t been on his father’s orders – none of the insistence that Sae cared for himself had been. It was, startlingly, the first time that concern for his safety had extended past duels and burglars and-

“ASSASSIN!!!”

Sae turned his head sharply, watching as a badly illuminated figure entered his room from the moonlit balcony, empty glass bottle in hand. His heart stopped in his chest. His feet wouldn’t move. He urged himself to run, to make his way to safety, to make his way toward you. The most he could do was turn and watch you as you charged.

The assassin stepped up behind him. The bottle came crashing down.

The last thing he registered was you running toward him, sword drawn, radiant like starlight incarnate.

“Good morning, your highness. How’d you sleep?”

Of course, the first thing Sae would hear after coming to consciousness would be his knight’s voice. Classic.

“What… what happened?” At some point, he’d been moved from the floor to his bed, and the lack of light from outdoors meant it was still night. The only people in the room, as far as he could tell, were him and the knight.

The knight chuckled. Someone ought to teach them that assassination is not a laughing matter.

“Well, some fool managed to climb up your balcony and hit you over the head with an empty liquor bottle. He got you pretty good, but at least you didn’t get cut by the glass shards. The doc said you’ll be fine in a day or two.” Somewhere across the room, your uniform rustled as you stood to leave, satisfied to know that Sae was alright. “Well, I’ll be going now. Kento, Miroku, and Tatsuki are outside if you need anything, but I’ll hopefully be back before you wake up. Get some sleep, you’ll need it.”

As Sae watched you retreat, he felt the sudden urge to reach out toward you; to thank you for saving his life yet again; to savor your company just a little longer. All that escaped his lips was a croaked, “Don’t-”

“Huh?” You turned, “Don’t what? You’ve gotta be specific if you’re giving me orders.”

Struggling for words, Sae sputtered, not entirely sure what he wanted. Don’t hate me? Don’t abandon me? Don’t resign from your post and never return? “Leave.”

You sighed, turning back again. “Being evasive, I see. Good to know you’re back to normal. Goodnight, your highness.”

“Wait- No- Don’t leave. Stay. Please.” Sae didn’t realize, but he was reaching toward you with his hand as if trying to pull you back toward him. But of course, you were across the room, and his fingers couldn’t find purchase.

“Your Highness, you’ll be perfectly safe, I promise. There are two guards outside and one on the balcony… I can tell Kento to come inside if that would make you feel safer.” It pained Sae how you didn’t look him in the eyes as you spoke – you hardly turned to face him. But that was about the treatment he deserved, considering how he had treated you, pushing you away and still expecting you to save his life.

“It’s not- Stay, Y/n, please. I- It’s nice. Having you around.” He begged, voice breaking. He cursed himself for sounding so foolish, so unnecessarily vulnerable. You were his guard, nothing more.

Oh, how he wished it was more.

“Oh. I guess… I guess I could stay,” You murmur, striding back toward him, “For what it’s worth, you’re not half-bad of a guy to guard. Following you around all day is pretty fun… even when you’re mad at me.”

Sae groaned, wanting nothing more than to hide under his bedsheets. Half the time when he snapped at you it was just to provoke a clever quip or witty insult from you who never seemed to care, and the other half the time, when he stepped too far, his stubbornness left the apologies aching in his chest.

“I’m not mad. Not usually,” He muttered, not entirely sure if you could hear or not. Sae assumed not, from the way you settled into one of his sitting chairs, leaning your sword belt against the arm.

No, don’t sit there- The words were on the tip of his tongue, but you spoke first.

“I’ll sit here as long as you want, but you should get to sleep. Let me know if you need anything, alright? I’ll do my best to not doze off.”

“There is one thing,” Sae said, internally shuddering at how foolish his request seemed. But it was you, and you wouldn’t make fun of it… right?

You chuckled. “Spit it out before I fall asleep. This chair is ridiculously comfortable.”

“Come sleep with me. Propriety be damned.”

You looked at him incredulously, not believing the words that exited his mouth. A sentence you had long given up on hearing. But the response that forms bypasses that yearning entirely.

“Aww, does His Royal Grumpiness get cuddly when he’s concussed?”

He sighed and scowled – though the snarky reply made his heart skip a beat. “Shut it, Y/n. I’m serious. I’d like to be close to you.”

“As you wish, Sae,” You smiled, taking off your uniform coat and discarding it on the same chair that your sword leaned against. Sae watched you intensely as you removed your shoes and climbed into the soft, powder blue sheets. He’s quick to wrap his arms around you, drinking in the warmth of your skin.

If only for a night, you could be his. You were his. And he was yours. By the witness of the stars. His troubled soul was held in the comfort of another, melting into the tenderness of an embrace outside of the reach of prying eyes. For the first time in far too long, the tension left the prince’s muscles, eased out by the soft breathing of his knight, his friend, his beloved.

In the silent depths of night, sweet words were whispered in dulcet tones.

“I love you.”

Bonus: Two Weeks Later

Exactly two weeks after the ridiculous attempt on Prince Sae’s life, Aiku – Captain of the King’s Guard and your somewhat-direct superior – summoned you into his office.

Not pleased to be away from your job for too long, you intended to make this quick.

“Let me guess, you need help training new recruits? Because if that’s what you want, I can’t do it. I’m with Sae full time now,” You said, standing in the doorway. Aiku looked at you from where he leaned against his desk, letting out a soft chuckle.

“Familiar with His Royal Highness, are you?” The Captain asked, smirking, “Well, therein lies the problem.”

You furrowed your brow, not entirely understanding what he meant. “And how is that an issue? You’re plenty familiar with His Majesty the King, why should I not be the same with the man I guard?”

“It’s not quite the same. Rumors are spreading, you know, and if things continue like this then you might be reassigned.”

“Really? Why? I keep Sae perfectly safe, no?” Captain Aiku stepped toward you, straightened posture making him seem unnervingly tall. He lowered his voice, as if worried someone would overhear. “Listen, Y/n. Let me put it this way: If the king catches you and his son making bedroom eyes at each other one more time he will replace you. The rest of us on the guard don’t exactly appreciate it either.”

Suddenly a gentle wrapped around your waist, the newcomer’s chest pressed comfortingly against your back. You didn’t have to turn around to know that Sae had come to intervene, tugging you gently away from the Captain.

“Sorry to interrupt, Captain, but I will look at my knight however I please. If my father chooses to reassign Y/n, I will deal with him myself.”

i'm such a sucker for royalty au

#imagine ⋆｡°✩#sae x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #sae x gn!reader #sae x gender neutral reader #blue lock x gn!reader #blue lock x gender neutral reader

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thebibliosphere · 1 year

Text

TW: MEDICAL TRAUMA AND GASLIGHTING- UK FRIENDS, PLEASE HELP

Hey, this is a long shot, but do I have any followers in the UK--specifically Scotland, but I’ll take anywhere--diagnosed with MCAS/D with a doctor they can recommend?

My younger disabled brother who I share a lot of health problems with has just been hospitalized at the Queen Elizabeth Hospital (aka 'the Death Star') for symptoms consistent with a prolonged MCAS flare. He's hardly eating, he's got undiagnosable bladder pain, blinding headaches, worsening allergies, and his skin/eczema is so bad he’s at risk of sepsis and losing his eyesight because he’s been left to claw himself raw with chronic urticaria near his eyes that has been brushed off for years as “anxiety.” (Which he was then prescribed diazepam for and nothing else 🙃)

When my mother brought up my MCAS diagnosis over here in the US and how similar my brother’s symptoms and reactions are, the attending doctor said that MCAS “isn’t real” and won’t even prescribe famotidine for what my brother is describing as “suffocating acid reflux”—presumably because this doctor is now on some sort of bruised ego trip over my mother questioning his prognosis that my brother is suffering from anxiety and “a lack of personal hygiene.”

(My brother is severely disabled, and my elderly mother has to bathe and dress his wounds daily, just like she’s been doing for the last 32 years since he was born. This is not a lack of personal hygiene this is a lack of medical care!!!)

My mother is trying her best, but she’s got her own health problems and suffers severely from her own medical trauma, which is making advocating harder. They do have an appointment to see a dermatologist on Friday, but considering it's at the same clinic that said my chronic urticaria was also anxiety (🙃), we're not holding out much hope.

I've managed to find him some OTC meds that might help stabilize things, but he's at the stage where he needs a knowledgeable MCAS doctor to either confirm or rule this out and figure out what the hell is going on.

I'm trying to help, but from 4000 miles away, it's proving difficult and every possible lead I've found so far has been a dead end.

NHS is preferable but it doesn't have to be. I will find a way for him to go private if I have to. Fuck if you are an MCAS doctor in the UK, I'll pay for your petrol to go to Scotland. I'll pay for anything. I just can't listen to my mother crying in the Queen Liz car park anymore because she might be about to lose her second child to the illness that almost took her first.

Thank you. Sorry. I just don't know what to do anymore.

#chronic health tag #mcas #medical abuse #medical negligence #help needed #signal boost

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1d1195 · 8 months

Text

Protection VIII

Read the rest here: Protection

Hi, this is kinda fast paced, idk. I'm def not confident about this section at all. I feel like it's got potential but I don't think I know what I'm doing. But I don't have a choice but to give it a shot anyway. I know I've mentioned before, but I like Grey's Anatomy and stupid cheesy movies with scenes like this.

Warnings: angst, blood, weapons, lots of sad sad stuff. I actually don't know how blood loss works or g*n shot wounds either but it's for the plot also this is very dramatized because the writing side of my brain is a drama queen. I don’t think it’s very accurate scientifically or logically so if you would be as so kind as to look at it “holistically” and try to just envision something super serious along these lines I would GRATEFULLY appreciate it. Also, I don't know how tech works. Sorry if it seems a bit awful

~5.9k words.

Thank you oh so much to @freedomfireflies for beta reading so I could feel a little better about actually posting this.

More than anything he wanted her to be there. Sitting on her bed reading or sleeping as she always was. He imagined her smug smile and her lilting voice murmuring “gotcha,” like this was the funniest prank.

Harry, for better or for worse, prided himself on being a hard worker. But for the last three days, and especially today, he didn’t care. He had spent the first half of that horrific day answering thousands of questions. The latter half was spent learning his new office job. When he got back to his apartment—a place he’d hardly spent any time in over the last two weeks—he finally let the tears and frustration course through him. He tried to call her again, but he received a message that his number had been blocked.

He called his mum and broke down.

So, he entered the building. It would be this way now. Day three of filing paperwork that he had spent so many hours writing for her. Now he was at the other end of it. Learning an office job when all he wanted was to head right to her flowery little place and beg her to explain. He wanted to kiss her, touch her, and promise her anything her heart wanted. He didn’t understand and he was floundering. How did he fix this? How was he supposed to breathe? After all that. After all the kisses, all the touches. All the touches he didn’t get and all the ones he deprived her of because it wasn’t protocol. What a stupid idiot.

Good luck, honey bun :( his mum texted. She texted it yesterday too and he wondered how long she would have to text it to him before the frowny face disappeared.

Harry was destined for another hundred meetings explaining that he had no idea she was feeling this way. Because of course, despite the fact he did know what she was feeling—because he felt it too—he felt so much loyalty to her. He didn’t know what her game was or why she was trying to sell it that it was one-sided, but despite how sad he was, she was brilliant. A biochemist in the making, of course, and if she had to break his heart, he believed (or wanted to believe) that she was doing the right thing.

Harry sat at his newly assigned desk and looked at the papers in front of him. Eventually, he would make her grovel for forgiveness. This was too much paperwork for him, and she had to have known how much he would have hated it. But he also thought that she would just look at him through her pretty eyelashes that drove him mad, smelling like flowers, and say sorry and that would be plenty.

There had to be an end to this. He was certain of it.

Niall wasn't allowed to tell him anything that he heard. Harry wasn't allowed to ask about her either (Niall, naturally a stickler for protocol, was following the rule--he didn't even know what she was up to. His job was to train Harry. Their supervisor saw to it that she was under his own surveillance.

"It feels m'being forced t'write with m'left hand after being right handed for m'whole life," he explained to Niall dejectedly. For five months his thoughts were consumed with the flowery girl he fell so incredibly hard for. Overnight she was just gone.

Harry began flipping through papers and tapping at his keyboard for all of four minutes when Niall suddenly dragged him out of his seat, down the hall, and back out the front door without a word. “Niall!” He ground out bitterly. He wasn’t in the mood. He wanted to kill his friend a bit for even recommending he be part of this. He wished he wasn’t her bodyguard. At least he wouldn’t be sour with heartache.

But honestly, Harry owed Niall his entire life for bringing him to her.

“She’s gone.”

Harry stared at him blankly. “Who?”

Niall slapped him across the face—not quite hard but enough to stun him and knock some sense into him. “She’s gone.”

Harry felt like this was a dream. His brain was floating distantly. “What are y’talking ‘bout?”

“There's an email on my phone, to my private email, from a random address, a random IP address. It’s her. She said DSS is compromised...that someone in the department wants her out of the picture and if I’m reading it, it means that she is not in her apartment regardless of what they say. The very same email is going to be sent in ninety minutes to everyone at DSS.”

Harry shook his head. “No, that’s a lie.”

“Harry,” Niall said. “It’s going to...blow everything up. You have to—”

“Niall, that’s ridiculous. She would—”

“She said to tell you the email is from Miss Wildflower.”

The words died in his throat. “No,” he shook his head. That wasn’t something he’d ever written down, wasn’t something he called her to anyone else. That was for him and her...and... “No...it’s not her. She’s fine,” he was in denial. How could he not be? The thought that something happened to her? This wasn’t just some long routed way of her anxiety taking over and ruining something before it started. It wasn’t getting Harry off her detail so they could spend Christmas together (something he had convinced himself of when he was crying to his mom the night before).

“No, Harry, and I'm gonna have to go make a scene and tell them but I’m giving you a head start because she's giving you a head start. You don’t have time to waste here. I’m telling them I sent you home. That you’re too distraught to work.”

Swallowing hard, he nodded. “Okay.”

“She didn’t want you to get hurt,” Niall said. “She was...scared.” Harry frowned and nodded even though he thought he was going to be sick. He winced as he thought it over. Put his hands on his knees as he took heaving breaths. “Harry,” Niall said gently. “You don’t have time—”

“Jus’ shut up, Niall,” he croaked. Niall was silent, biting the inside of his cheek. He couldn’t imagine the heartache and anguish his friend was feeling.

“At least...at least there was a reason, right?” Niall murmured.

If it meant her harm or kidnapping or...worse. No. It wasn’t worth it. It didn’t matter the reason. “Yeah...” he mumbled.

Since Harry was no longer on her detail, he assumed he wouldn’t be allowed into her apartment building—at least not through the main entrance.

Even if he was allowed in the main entrance, he had to work under the assumption that whatever compromised agents would be waiting out front for him. So he would need an alternate route.

He hurried up her fire escape and opened her bedroom window just as he knew she did the very first day he met her. He was suddenly grateful for her never listening to Harry about protocol. He was glad the window was unlocked. That seemed like a lifetime ago.

Her pretty poinsettia and snowdrop apartment enveloped him like a hug. He wanted to bask in the smell of her pine-scented Christmas tree, the way her perfume made him feel at home, and just be there with her. But instead, he was trying hard to keep focus while he wanted nothing more than to break down and sob into the pillow that smelled like her shampoo.

He listened quietly and heard no one in the rest of the apartment. He searched for clues of any kind but there were none. No sign of a struggle. It was like she went with them willingly. Knowing her, she probably convinced them to let her walk on her own. But part of him believed she would have put up a fight. She had to have, right?

Her phone was on the counter. So there was no way to track her, he saw the tens of messages that came from him before he was blocked, a few from Niall, and several from the professor she would be working with next semester.

But it was Harry’s phone vibrating in his pocket was the one that pulled him from his thoughts.

Unknown: Video Attachment.

She was there. He could see her in the preview. Seeing her was like breathing again after being stuck under water for a hair too long. She was alive. She had memorized Harry’s number.

Harry thought memorizing his number was...

If it were possible to fall more in love with her, he did. It couldn't be possible because there simply wasn't room. He was already so in love with her. And it was just his phone number, after all. But he did. He fell so much harder. It felt like the marrow in his bones were aching for her touch.

Harry swallowed and sat on her sofa as he played it.

“Hi Dad...um...” she swallowed hard, like there was a lump in her throat. She looked okay. Her hair was in a braid, strands of it coming out and there was a redness to only one of her cheeks...like she had been slapped. Harry gripped his phone tightly to keep from throwing it. Her eyelashes, those pretty fluttery things that drove him nuts with desire for her, looked wet. His heart pounded. “You know,” she took a deep, shaky breath and she sucked her lip into her mouth.

“Hurry up,” he heard in the background. Wherever she was was nondescript. A construction site by the look of it. Nothing in the video sounded or looked like anything of use to finding her location. She shook her head quickly and tried again. Swallowed again.

“When Mom died, I thought the people that murdered her should have just...ended my life too. I know you know someone murdered her. No one believed me. Not one person. And I thought...I was the only person left in your life. You were supposed to love me and take care of me the way she always did. It killed me every single day that you didn’t—that you don't. It hurts so much that you hate me. Please. Just do what he asks; give him whatever...I don't want to die," she was being so brave. It was the way she held herself. How she seemed to stand straighter in the video. But Harry could hear the nervousness. Who wouldn't be nervous? It broke his heart that she was fighting and being so incredibly brave. "I’ll never bother you ever again. I’ll...go....I'll leave the country...I’ll just go."

“You have two hours,” and then he received a message from the same unknown number, the location of the park he went to when she twisted her ankle.

Harry only had a little under an hour because he knew DSS was going to be on their way soon—especially after Niall sent them on their way. If they received this message too, they would go through some inane plan that would decidedly not work--especially knowing that they were compromised. He was going to send the messages to Niall’s email from an rerouted IP address as soon as he watched the videos a few more times because if they were going to terrify her, Harry was going to help ruin their plan. They would wait for the park. It was what they did. It was the surest way. Protocol.

Harry would have given anything to see her roll her eyes at the word.

He watched the video again. And again. On the third time he was looking at the screen so closely, his eyes looking for some secret message hidden in the pixels. She looked okay, cozy. She was wearing the sweatshirt that Harry wore when he was soaked with rain—when the worst thing that happened to her was that stupid guy leaving her injured in a park. She didn’t look injured now, at least. His heart was aching. It had to be something. She wouldn’t have sent this to him for no reason--it was intended for her dad. It had to be a sign. Moreover, she said something about leaving the country--that had to be for Harry.

Harry felt like he would die if he didn’t figure it out on the next play through. It couldn’t be too hard. She may be a biochemist, but she couldn't have made it something ridiculous for him to solve. He wasn't a biochemist after all. That concert seemed like a lifetime ago. His agitation for losing her phone seemed stupid in comparison. He would tell her such as soon as he found her.

Now he was thinking about everything, every interaction they had as he stared at his phone, trying to will the hidden message to appear. It felt like it was a miracle she lost her phone at that concert. At least he told her she needed a failsafe at that point in time. Although he thought it would be for a guy that was too forward.

It was her hands.

They fidgeted throughout the entire video. He didn’t notice at first. She was nervous, her hands were tied together. Her fingers had to be going numb. He wished he had taught her how to break out of zip ties, maybe she could have escaped all on her own.

But that was when he noticed it. If it weren’t for him knowing the basics enough to know his own name when he saw it, he might not have paid any mind to the shape of her fist. Her fingers were shaking near the middle of her stomach. Her left hand was fidgeting wildly. But her right hand had a pattern, a fist, her pinky, her index and middle finger, another fist, her index finger.

Harry was glad her backpack was untouched. He grabbed one of her index cards and searched on his phone for the American Sign Language alphabet. He knew the first one was A because of his own name. Her pinky meant I. An R. Harry got it...it was her failsafe.

“Good girl,” he murmured to no one. Air. It took him four extra seconds to discern between S, M, N, E, A before he finally moved to the last two. He settled on T because the next letters were another A and G.

AirTag.

What would have an AirTag on her? He didn't have time to question it. He slid her computer out of her bag next, an index card falling from it.

His heart broke.

Harry— I Am SO sorry. I am so, so, so sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you. I know you’re going to find me because...you’re you and you make me feel safe. And because...well... I adore you. So much. I tried so hard not to, and I tried so hard to push you away and... Please TRY to forgive me. I promise I did it with reason. I’m so sorry, Harry. SO sorry.

He didn’t have time to cry but he shoved the note in his pocket, wishing he told her he loved her at least once. Ever. He couldn’t pore over her words. Couldn’t guess what she was thinking or doing. There wasn’t time for him to guess how she knew he would find this note. Of course, she couldn’t just put all the answers on this index card because if she did, anyone could find it. Someone at DSS would have found it if she hadn’t perfectly planned for Niall to send him here beforehand. He had to find her faster and before that stupid, corrupt building got there.

Now he was tasked with her password.

Please be easy.

He clicked on the “forgot password" link. A helpful little reminder was there: Flower!number. It seemed daunting immediately. Especially because he was so distraught and worried. There were so many flowers she could have put. He tried Sunflower!14. Snowdrop!14. Peonies!14. How many times could he try? He was terrified it would lock him out. He took a deep breath and he only had moments to figure it out because he was certain people would be hurrying to her apartment from DSS soon.

Tilting his head back at the ceiling he almost felt embarrassed at how easy it seemed now.

Wildflower!14 did the trick.

With a sigh of relief, he searched AirTag on her computer. He opened the application.

She had no less than 50 AirTags. Forty-nine of which were in her apartment with Harry. All labeled with various names for her shoes.

Good girl. He thought. It was in her shoe. When would she be without shoes?

The only shoes that weren’t in her apartment were in a warehouse across the city. He scribbled the address on another index card and shoved it in his pocket alongside her perfect note telling him she loved him.

Harry could hear a commotion starting in the lobby. Sirens were ringing outside. They were coming up the stairs. He closed her laptop, slid it back into her backpack and hurried to her bedroom hoping everything look untouched. He quietly closed the window behind him as they entered her apartment. He descended the fire escape before they made it to her room.

If she could see him breaking protocol, he imagined she would laugh.

Harry parked a block away from the address. As soon as he entered the building, he hurried up two flights of stairs to where he heard talking. “It was a risk I had to take!” It was a man’s voice. Harry felt sick. “It was suspicious!” He shouted. “She said she would get more money. How was I supposed to know that?!”

“Get up,” he snapped.

She yelped and Harry thought he might die before he made it to her if he heard her getting hurt even slightly. If he pulled her hair or caused her to stub her toe, Harry would genuinely contemplate murdering him.

Harry pulled the gun from the holster around his ankle. He pointed it down toward the ground and waited by the entrance to the floor and peered so very briefly around the corner of the wall. He caught a glimpse of her beautiful being walking on her own. A gun pressed to her back. Harry swallowed the bile rising in his throat.

If something happened to her, Harry would never forgive himself.

"Listen," she said almost gently. Like she was going to reason with someone with a gun. She was going to get herself murdered and Harry couldn't stop her right now. "I know...I know you want money. I get that, honestly I do. Who doesn't, right?"

God Harry envied her serenity in a moment like this.

He wasn't actively putting bullets in her so she continued. "You're a smart guy. They wouldn't have picked you to do this if you weren't, but you...you have to realize you're their fall guy. This is a national security matter. The first sign of trouble they're going to say you kidnapped me, you hurt me. They will come out clean because they have to," she explained so rationally it would have been obvious to anyone with a pulse. "You don't have to take me there," she finally whimpered the true emotion she was feeling. Harry winced as if her pain was in his own body--he certainly felt like it was. "I can just go...I have a plan. I...or we can fake my death. It doesn't have to be this way," she promised. Like they were going to be a team.

But Harry knew what it was: all her rambling. It was a distraction, it was stalling.

Because she had no way of knowing if Harry made it in time to save her--but the one thing she did know? If she was brought to the park...it was all over.

Harry took a deep silent breath trying very hard to keep as calm as possible because he could not afford one second of hesitation or any kind of slip up. He turned the corner aiming his weapon toward the man holding her at gunpoint. “Harry!” She gasped and made three bold steps toward him; hands still bound up in front of her. The man behind her fired off a round right toward the concrete wall just feet away. Harry didn’t waver, holding his own gun steady in front of him as she yelped again, pausing her steps. It was long enough that he snagged her back before she got any closer to Harry.

The person behind her had his arm around the front of her shoulders. He pressed the cold metal to her temple. She wanted to scream or cry or something. Her hands clutched to the man’s forearm trying desperately to wriggle free. He was using her as a shield—the coward. Harry wanted to scream too. He held his gun aimed directly at his head from several meters away. But it was way too close of a shot for him to even think about taking it. Not with her right there. Not with a weapon held to her beautiful, perfect face.

It felt like all those times he watched guys lean too close to her at the bar amplified by ten thousand. It felt like the realization that stupid prick slipped something in her drink multiplied by a million. His lips were near her ear. Harry was so grateful she was alive and awake.

And maybe, most importantly to Harry, she looked pissed.

“He’s going to kill you,” she hissed at him, tears in her eyes. Bless her angry little heart.

That’s my girl. Harry thought. Harry was going to kill him. Especially if he harmed her in any capacity. He pressed the gun harder against her skin and she winced. Harry faltered for half a second.

“Are you okay?” He asked, sounding so much braver than he felt. He was a mess internally. It was a wonder his hands didn’t shake holding his weapon. He wanted to surrender himself—him for her, he would have taken her spot in a heartbeat. He would do anything to get her out of here.

“Right as rain,” the man said. Harry wondered if he should just take his shot right now. Damn it all because he wanted to kill him for thinking this was funny.

She nodded, just barely. Harry felt the most minor amount of relief.

She could try to run for him again. She was certain she could make it—she almost did. Harry would stop him before he even realized she managed to get away from him. A kick to the shin—or worse. The only thing that stopped her was the metal against her head. She was terrified that one wrong movement would set off a reflexive action that would take her life. Harry inched closer. Six measly feet away from her. She could nearly smell his fresh cologne probably applied habitually before he headed to work.

But six feet may as well have been six thousand miles.

“I can kill her, now,” he said. “Makes no difference to me. I get paid either way,” she inhaled sharply. She thought there would be a bruise from the circular barrel pressing to her skull.

She swallowed, staring at Harry. Perfect, wonderful Harry. If this was the last time her eyes were opened, at least he would be the last thing she saw. Harry had to focus on staying as calm as humanly possible. Even though the thrum of his pulse was like thunder in every inch of his body. She looked unharmed and said she was okay...other than her wrists tied together. “If you kill me, you’ll never get to my dad,” she reminded him. Harry was surprised to hear her talk about her dad. There had to be something more. But he didn’t have time to think about it. He had to get her out of here.

He eyed Harry as he inched even closer. “Keep moving, I’ll kill her,” he promised with a shrug. Harry stopped in his tracks, and she tried to pull her head from the gun. She was so brave, not even the tears in her eyes were stopping her from trying to get away.

Harry was going to give her anything she wanted. A thousand coffees, a million movies, a new set of pens and a fresh batch of index cards, or a hundred fake bouquets to decorate her place. Whatever she wanted.

“Harry,” she whispered breathlessly. He wanted to cry at the sound of worry in her voice.

“I know, love,” he murmured, trying to feign this wasn’t killing him.

“I’m sorry,” she croaked.

He wanted to wince, but he couldn’t blink. It felt like if he dropped his gaze for even a second it would be over. He would lose. He could not lose her. He didn’t respond to her. “Shut up,” the man snapped. She dropped her hands from his arm and Harry wondered how he didn’t drop his gun at the sight. It looked like she was giving up. It felt like they had to give up. What were they supposed to do? It was so quiet; even the cars outside the building seemed to be silent.

Harry and the unknown man stared at each other unmoving from their positions. It was almost like he was watching her in his peripheral vision he saw her fingers fidgeting just like they had in the video. A repetitive movement. Except this wasn’t quite sign language.

This was her thumb and index finger forming the shape of a gun and then her thumb pointing back toward herself shifting ever so slightly so her movement wouldn’t alert the man holding her hostage. Harry shook his head imperceptibly.

“Please,” she begged.

“I said, ‘shut up’,” he gripped her tighter, shaking her and Harry allowed himself to wince. He shook his head more obviously.

“Harry,” she whimpered.

“I’m going to put a bullet right in your mouth, shut. Up,” he pulled on the safety which clicked so loudly in her ear she thought it was the trigger on its own.

She released a horrific, terrified sob. “Harry, please,” she croaked.

Harry thought his heart was going to break. He nearly closed his eyes as he pulled his trigger right when she sobbed.

The sound of her cry marginally covered the ear-piercing ring of the weapon. She tore herself from the man’s grip impulsively. It was primal, the need to tend to her new wound. The sound and sight of Harry shooting at her had clearly done exactly as she wanted: completely distracted him. Trying to grab at the burning pain in her thigh with her wrists held together. She screamed so violently, so loud, Harry swore it was louder than the sound of the bullet.

As she dropped to the ground; Harry had a clear shot of the man and took it. It pierced directly through his forearm, so he dropped the gun. Harry placed another precise shot to the opposite shoulder rendering both his arms useless.

She was writhing in agony but somehow managed to reach for his weapon with her tied arms, and awkwardly shoved it out of his reach. Harry thought she was his hero. He was going to give her anything she wanted for as long as she lived.

Blood was pooling from both parties and Harry grabbed the man by his injured arm, nearly digging his thumb into the wound to make it worse. He groaned and yelled. He sounded worse than she did. He tried not to think about his beautiful angel bleeding with a wound he caused. All of the wounds he inflicted were well out of harm's way. They would repair eventually.

But Harry didn't need to be shot with a bullet to know it hurt. There was a reason people used the expression I need it like I need a hole in the head when they talked about something they definitely didn't want.

Harry thought honestly about snapping his neck. Instead, he shoved him behind the pole facing away from them, blood dripping in his path and wrapped his arms around the pole, handcuffed them together so he couldn’t escape with a set of zip ties he brought with himself--because Harry was not taking any risks when he found her. He had to be dealt with quickly, but he wasn’t important in the grand scheme of things.

With the few seconds it took Harry to rid himself of the nuisance now stuck behind the pole, moaning in agony until he could get DSS and the cops, (and everyone under the sun) here. It took a moment for Harry to realize he hadn’t heard her screams of pain as he did. She was lying on the ground, eyes closed, face paling, blood pooling around her lower half.

Oh fuck.

“Love?” He whispered brokenly. Harry dropped to his knees beside her. She was bleeding so much. Too much. The training he had from his EMT days was kicking in reflexively thank God. His movements were quick: yanking his belt off, violently pulling himself out of his coat and ripping the bottom part of his shirt off. Her jeans were soaked with her blood, seeping its way up her sweatshirt. He yanked her wrists free of the zip ties finally. I have to get her a new sweatshirt he thought uselessly.

Harry wasn’t nauseous about blood. But the thought of her dying because of blood loss made him feel so sick. Why did he listen to her? Why would he shoot her? Why, why, why!?

He was trying to do too many things at once. His right hand was holding pressure with the piece of his shirt against her wound. He pressed so hard; an insane amount of pressure—he thought he might break her already fragile leg, but it would be worth it if she would wake up. He nicked something. Something bad. Or she had a clotting problem. Something was amiss. This...this was one of the safest places he could have aimed. It had one of the highest recovery rates. All he had to do was follow her stupid fucking plan.

But it wasn't stupid. It was exactly what she wanted. It was what she expected. Harry just had no idea she had prepared for that.

If she could talk Harry down she would have. It wasn't his fault. He followed her plan even though she never explicitly told him. Even though he had no idea she didn't know her own anatomy all that well and accidentally lined up one of the arteries (but fortunately did miss her femoral artery--just barely).

His left hand dialed 911. He didn’t let the operator talk, he was spewing out the address, who he was, what the issue was, barely getting the details out in a messy rush. Harry barely waited a moment before he hung up and called Niall. He didn’t listen to anything he had to say at the other end of the line and repeated the same summary again, this time losing it the longer he talked, his voice coming out in a strangled cry and if it was anyone but Niall he would worry more about professionalism.

“Baby,” he croaked leaving the phone on, shaking her by the shoulder, he lifted her head out of the puddle of blood, her face and hair sticky with the substance. He slipped his jacket beneath her head, a cushion something to get her off the cold, bloody floor. “You gotta let me see those beautiful eyes...” he shook her head. “Love, please,” he begged giving her a squeeze. She moaned and her eyes fluttered behind the lids a bit. The slight relief he felt seemed like hope. “That’s good. Hey, hi, angel,” he cooed. Her eyes turned to little slits as she opened them so very barely. “Good job,” he praised. “Y’jus' gotta stay awake for like 10 more minutes, sweetheart. Okay? Ambulance is coming,” he promised. He continued working on her leg. He was wrapping his belt around her thigh, high around the top. He pulled it into a tight knot. She moaned at the feeling.

“Stop,” she whimpered reaching with her freed hand uselessly for his ministrations.

“I know, love, m’sorry,” he felt his voice dying in his throat. This was bad. So horrifically, bad. “Y’got a bit of a gash here, Miss Wildflower, jus’ like when y’were cooking,” he reminded her. “Remember?”

She didn’t respond and Harry found a piece of metal, like something from the construction that was left lying around, to slip in the knot he made. He twisted it causing an involuntary scream to rip from her throat. He winced at the sound of her agony.

“Harry please,” she begged, eyes dripping with tears. Her hands reached again for him to stop. “It hurts!”

“I know, m'love. M’sorry. Jus’ gotta...” he kept twisting and holding pressure on the wound. Her hands reached for it again, he grabbed both, she was too weak to do anything anyway, but he held them both against her side. “There,” he felt a pinch more relief seeing the gushing had stopped.

“S’cold,” she whispered after a moment of stillness. The burning seemed to stop. It was overshadowed by how cold she was.

Harry thought he might die if she died right in front of him. His heart was racing, the adrenaline was violently coursing through him. “I know beautiful, I know. Goddammit,” he hissed. “Niall, I need back up. Now!”

He pressed harder on her wound and looked at the pool of blood surrounding her. It was too much, too dark. “Ow, Harry! Please, stop! It hurts!” She whimpered.

“I know, honey, I know. I’m so sorry m’angel. I’m so sorry.” He could hear the sirens. “Jus’ another minute.”

She groaned for a few seconds before silence took over again. Harry pressed on her wound again. He was covered in her blood as well. She moaned again at the fiery pain. “M’sleepy,” she managed.

“I know, beautiful. I know; but y’can’t sleep yet. Not yet. I’ll let you sleep soon, I promise.”

More silence. “S’really cold.”

Harry wanted to cry. He sniffled and realized he already was. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”

“M’sorry I ran away,” she mumbled. He didn’t say anything because he didn’t want her to know how mad he was even though she seemed close to dying. “I had...had to...get you away...they’d kill you. And then... I’d have no one…at least this way...” she trailed off.

“Kitten,” he said firmly, he swallowed back the tears. Squeezed her hands. “You are going t’get in an ambulance in thirty seconds and you are going t’live a long, beautiful life. Please jus’ stay awake for jus’ a few more minutes.”

Harry swore she smiled faintly. “...With you?”

“God, if s’what y’want. I'll stay forever, love. Jus’ stay awake, please,” he begged. She didn't respond and Harry began to panic. Where was the fucking ambulance? “Angel, Tell me the functional groups.”

“Hmm?”

“Please, love. Tell them t’me again.”

“Ketone. Carbonyl. Acyl…” she sighed.

“Describe aldehyde,” he croaked. “Niall! Where is it?! Please, baby,” she could feel his hand on her face, but she realized she couldn’t see him anymore. “Kitten, honey, please open your eyes.”

Was he crying?

She wanted to say she loved him out loud. Wanted to say she was sorry for everything one more time but unfortunately her tongue was suddenly too heavy to speak. She swore she heard Harry crying, shouting, and whispering he loved her right in her ear as she drifted off to sleep.

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